Neil reached for his gun right after Junebug shot York with his pistol, only realizing after the fact that she had his fucking gun. Well, it couldn't be helped. The pilot might not be nearly as well trained in hand to hand as Junebug or Woods, but he had basic training down and was scrappy, and while York was close to superhuman levels of physical capabilities, he had just been shot with a large caliber bullet. Neil spun acrobatically and launched out with both of his feet in a drop kick, hitting York in the chest to add insult to literal injury. The sophisticated man cried out in pain and clutched his chest from the blow that had been struck into the bullet wound. 

Neil caught himself with his hands, landing apeishly into a crouch. He just barely dived into the shield in time before the lasbeams and bullets began to ricochet off the void fields. Neil hit the ground in another roll, only to slam into the trunk-like limbs of Saxon, who looked down at him as if he was a particularly large shit he had just stepped in. "Your doing, I imagine." he rumbled, and to Neil it truly did look like he was contemplating on stepping on the lithe pilot. Neil shook his head emphatically. 

"Not this time." He assured him with a grin. "Other times, yes. But this time, I didn't shoot first."

The growling continued for a few moments before it fadded off, and then a very human-like sigh escaped his mandibles. The Hexanagallion then began to access the small console within his armor at the wrist, and a small compartment raised up from above his massive hand. Neil heard air being sucked into the strange compartment before it launched its payload; a wrist mounted rocket. It sailed out of the void shield and detonated at the feet of the marine's, killing four and wounding several others. 

"Don't stick around too long big guy, we're needing to get the fuck out of here." Neil said, scrambling to his feet and sprinting into the open cargo bay door. Saxon didn't respond, but he retreated nonetheless as he launched a volley of fletchlette rounds into the marines, who were leaping into cover and still firing just in case a few rounds pierced the shield, however unlikely that was. Neil passed Sven, who was simply doing his best to fix the parts of the Highlander that needed patching up. 

"I'm glad I don't have to do two things at once like usual." Neil said to himself as he vaulted over a workshop table and slid into the cockpit access corridor. He hit the pilot seat hard and began to set the systems to go, calculating and working furiously. Thank Gideon, Sven had fixed the ship at least well enough to where it wouldn't detonate on impact, but Neil needed to still get things just right because going into the R.I.P. while already into the R.I.P. was probably the most risky thing one wanted to do in a ship. 

When he saw that all were aboard, Neil revved the engine up and set the coordinates. The screen of the hanger bay appeared, and he saw Woods checking York on the ground, helping him up. Neil took a moment to watch her, before he pushed the image away and groaned. "Another one bites the dust." he said, and he hit the launch sequence. Within moments, the ship would tear a hole through the fabric of reality at the far end of the hanger and disappear into the void.  

Neil felt as if his soul and nervous system were being tugged in two opposite directions, and he screamed as the ship tore through anotherarea of the R.I.P. He didn't even have air to warn the others to strap in. They simply were gone, and flew into the unknown. 
[@Penny]