[indent]“I’m still alive. Dog still alive… Die another day, I suppose,” Kinsley breathed out into the atmosphere, a hapless statement whispered towards the flicked ear of her canine companion as she spotted him close to her, as always - his eyes out on the horizon and on the looming threat amidst the mists that they were entrenched in. He whimpered quietly.

[i]Trauma.[/i] 

Her round doe eyes scanned instinctively for someone in the ship and in the torn shreds outside before narrowing. There were more aboard, she knew that much. She hadn’t given it too much thought, she’d just sat and glazed over as she always did - Chowder had been sat between her knees - his own backpack fastened over his rough blue and white coat. As always, his tail was wagging furiously at the salutes - yelping as if in unison with them. 

The ringing in her ears was thicker than usual, louder too. Or was that a different sound? As she turned on her heel, she saw in the cockpit the young Knight, gardening apparently. A deep crease formed over Kinsley’s brow and she made a dash for it.

Still in the pilot’s seat was Frank, pinned in place by the sharp and knotted arm of a tree - punched through him. Kinsley stopped at his side, her eyes moved over him, and the remaining buzz of Brown’s weapon was the undertone of her evaluation. A young Kinsley would have looked at this as a challenge, and a younger Kinsley might have been more prepared to accept it. But not this Kinsley. Her lips pulled to the side, and she took hold of Frank’s hand. 

“It’s Frank, right?” She asked in her disturbingly gentle voice, before turning her face to catch Brown’s gaze, it was a single look — with strength enough to demand her attention. 

Patty nodded and matched the look, strength for strength. Dr. Kinsley might be older than she, but she was no soldier - hell, a few years ago Patty would’ve considered her a local. Still, she had seen the things she could do in the medbay. Brothers went in, shot, sliced, and burned to hell and are still kicking. That warranted respect, of a sort. Patty stepped aside and motioned toward the cockpit with her free arm and said, “He’s all yours, doc.”

In the meantime, [i]Lancer[/i] Brown had made his way back over to the cockpit. He wasn't going to be much use for [i] Knight [/i] Brown's plan, so he thought he'd offer his help seeing to his pilot-in-arms with tree-in-torso. He brushed past Patty, giving a nod of respect for her command and lack of objection to her minigun-centric tactics. He then crouched next to Frank, on the opposite side to Dr. Kinsley, and sincerely asked [b]"is there anything I can do to help?"[/b]. As he said this, he gave Frank, who was losing his wits as if they were located in his blood, a worried look. The man was uncharacteristically vacant, breathing heavily and roughly. 

Frank indicated the chest pocket of his flight suit. Breathing labored, blood pooling in his chair, the pilot had no illusions of survival. His mouth tightened into a thin red line. “My kids. Give them,” he groaned until his words faded in the air. Eyes glazed, devoid of light and aimed at Lancer Brown. The doctor held his hand, but the burden fell onto Brown.

Sami reached into the pocket that the late pilot had gestured towards, knowing full well what it contained. He somberly looked upon the photograph, and felt his heart sink as he realised that the two siblings it depicted had just been made orphans. They may never have an idea of why dad didn't come home if the rest of the crew didn't make it out of this desolate land. Either way, their lives just got a lot harder.

Sami struggled to hold back a tear for his fallen comrade. He'd known loss of friends before, and Frank was barely even an acquaintance, but he felt upset by his death that had so suddenly come about, if only because it exemplified the fragility of life and of its enjoyment. One moment the Lancer was cracking jokes about good times, the next he was choking to death on his own blood. 

And with that thought, Sami wondered what the fuck he was doing here. 

The crease in Kinsley's brow relaxed and she slowly blinked, placing a hand flat over their now deceased pilot's eyes to gracefully close them. "Ad victoriam" she said quietly, once again the words blanketed under her breath. 

His blood perfumed the air, and then Chowder was beside her too, his eyes bright and attentive. "No boy, no," Kinsley said, rubbing his ear with only a sliver of the affection that Grimshaw would have. He placed his chin in Frank's bloody lap, a weak whimper came out of him again. 

"Are you hurt Brown?" She asked, turning to face the Lancer who had made his way to them. Sami shook his head, and murdered a faint 'no'. "You too Brown… [i]Other Brown[/i]. Are you hurt?" A brow quirked in the Knight's direction, and she had something of a word or two for her, but even she had enough tact about her to not do it while someone was in a state of grief at her side. She knew that look, those eyes. Her entire life had been spent under the deep scrutiny of those eyes. 

“I’m fine,” said [i]Knight[/i] Brown.

That wasn’t the truth - well, the whole truth anyway. Her head was pounding and she was a little dizzy, but she’d be damned if a little headache was going to stop her. She shook her head to erase the thought from her mind. A man had just died and here she was thinking about a damn headache.

“Guys,” Owen shooshed, waving a hand back toward the others. “Keep it down. Damn doors won’t shut... We’re screwed if they hear us.”

Craning his neck out of the left door, he caught a glimpse of the area. Tall trees stripped down into lithe, blackened things. Puddles that seemed to glisten eerily close akin to glass. The ruins here appeared particularly devastated. Skeletal remains of a forest the scribe imagined had once thrived here. 

Owen turned back to the group and gestured outside. “I don’t know if trying to mow them down is the best move. What if something goes wrong?” The scribe rubbed the dreadlocks running along the top of his head. “I mean, could we try to fix the damage? Maybe patch it up long enough to hop out of here?” 

“Best way to find the others is from above,” Kinsley chimed in, in as hushed of a tone as she always did. Pointing up to the sky before placing that finger upon her temple, half scratching at her hairline, and half tapping as if in thought. “They could only have gotten so far away from us, based on the speed of the bird here and whatever direction we were facing when they were flung… And how far up or down we were.” She shrugged, eyes moving left to right as if she was already putting together an equation for maximum distance fallen in the moment of silence between speaking again. “I also do not wish us to fire a gun if it can be helped. Could be more of those things lurking out of sight. Fifty counted does not mean fifty in total. Don’t be the hare in this situation.” 

“What other equipment do we have onboard?” Patty asked, “If we won’t go in guns blazing, at the very least I want to be ready for them when they finally notice us. I’ll be damned if one of you brings down the horde on us with our pants down,” she said in a half-whisper, so as to avoid drawing the attention of the ghouls.

She shook her head and turned to Lancer Brown, “You know how to fix these things, right? I’ll have your back if you want to try to repair it quietly.”

[b]"Yeah I can have a look at the wing. It's probably just a case of fixing the servos. But it might be loud and attract those rotskins. I don't wanna be a sitting duck out there"[/b], replied the (co-)pilot. 

“If we need to, Chowder can do a run around and force them from the area but it’s risky for him…” Kinsley offered, despite her beliefs that he was the luckiest dog left -- he really was still in danger if they had to use such a tactic. “He’s a good herding dog, he’ll know what to do so just say the word…”

"[b]That could be an idea"[/b], Sami responded. [b]"But Ghouls ain't Brahmin. Are you sure you wanna risk his life like that?"[/b]. He scratched the dog on his chin as he spoke. Chowder was certainly a very good boy. He always liked dogs, and mistrusted cats. [b]"Are you up for that, boy?"[/b], Sami asked the dog, rhetorically of course. Though if Chowder spoke back, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing to happen in Sami's witness. 

Kinsley brought herself down to Chowder's level, placing a hand on his head, before meeting Lancer Brown's eyes with her own, "he's made for things like this, just like you're made to fix this broken bird." Sami stuck his bottom lip out and slowly nodded his head in acknowledgment. [b]"Well ain't destiny just a specific bitch[/b]", he mumbled to himself, but audibly enough so the rest of the group could hear him. "[b]Alright then. I'll need as much time as you can give me, it could be a quick fix or a while if it's something substantial. And I won't know until I see the damage[/b]". 

“So, we send Chowder out as a distraction. I can cover you while you check things out, Brown. And if things go to shit.” Owen pointed to the minigun. “Patty will be ready with the big gun. If you’re sure about this Kinsley, then I think we’ve got a plan.” He could notice Sami already nodding in his peripheral. 

“We’re between a rock and a hard place… We have to get this fixed to find the others. If running off the ghouls gives us our best shot, it’s the best shot,” Kinsley sighed wearily, “He’s fast, and has more stamina than you’d expect, and a good drive. He’s hardy. But just in case…” The doctor reached into her own bag, removing a notepad and pen - and on it she began to scrawl out a message. 

[center][i]Vertibird down. Algarin, Brown, Brown, Kinsley alive. Surrounded by ghouls. Fixing the vertibird. Look to the skies.[/i][/center]

She carefully folded the paper, and slipped it into one of the pockets on Chowder’s own lightweight backpack. “If he can’t make it back to us, he’ll keep running. Maybe he’ll find the others and they should know we’re alive. Or that we were. It’s a shot in the dark.”
[/indent]