Jeremy Al-Jahad stared intently at his clock. 9:53. The ship was scheduled to leave at 10:10. The bomb was then programmed to blow once a certain altitude was reached, which, if all calculations and intel were correct, would result in the ship hitting the Presidium. He was sitting in the lounge of a volus bank, someplace up high in a skyscraper, looking out the window with a clear view of the docks. Soldiers and officers were hectically moving back and forth, and a small crowd of soldiers was gathering outside the ship. With him was his wife and three other men, with whom he'd plotted this scheme. There was an eerie silence between them all.
One of the men spoke. Disregarding formalities, he went straight to the point. "Jerry, you'd better be sure this'll have the effect we're intending. You were in charge of the payload, and if your team's screwed up, you're going down."
Jeremy, whom everyone knew hated being called 'Jerry', nodded. The 'payload' in question was the bomb, and sure enough, he'd been the one who'd recruited three ex-military sappers to set it up. This was a high-stakes gamble for him - if it worked, he'd be given more influence in Terra Firma; if not, he'd probably be shot. He looked at his wife, who had been in charge of of integrating the sappers as employed by the dockyard in the Citadel's database. If Jeremy was tense, she was downright anxious, though this didn't show as she stared coldly out the window. The three men in their company were also solemnly strained.

_______________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, Corporal Alisha Khan was waiting outside the SSV Kristiansand along with Harris, Sock and Hernandez from her squad. Since they were minutes away from briefing, the vast majority of the crew were already inside, but the three of them had decided to stay and wait for the last man in their platoon who had yet to show up, Lisowski. Sock, an easily irritated man, had been speaking almost ceaselessly for the past half hour, and he was getting on Khan's nerves, especially considering the fact that they were all hung over from the previous night at Flux. This was why she made a heavy sigh of relief and loudly, perhaps a bit too loudly interjected with "There he is!" upon seeing the blonde-stubbled man hastily making his way to the cruiser. After quickly greeting him and receiving an apology from him, they headed inside. "Okay, people, back to soldier mode," Khan announced, and the rest of them responded with a "Yes, Corporal."
They hurried into the briefing room, where they were reminded of their business in Argos Rho by Captain Carson. Since no-one was entirely sure what was going on over there, it was a recon mission first and foremost. After the briefing was over, which it quickly was, Khan went to the soldiers' quarters to try and catch some very light sleep. Though her headache wasn't too severe right now, she knew from previous hangovers that it was going to get worse an hour or two from now, then subcede. Getting to her bunk, she climbed up and lay down, closing her eyes.

What happened next was indescribably painful.

A deafening bang was heard, so loud Khan couldn't quite decide where it was coming from. Not that she cared, because if she had to guess, it was the sound of her brain exploding. Her headache grew astronomically, and the fact that the ship's alarm was howling and the cruiser itself was shaking wasn't helping. She understood that now was probably a good time to move, despite the pain. Jumping down from the bunk, she ran through a corridor to find out what was going on, much like everyone in the vicinity. She heard the pilot's voice in the speakers:
"This is Flight Lieutenant Louis speaking; some sort of bomb has just gone off in the engine room. Do not go near the engine room, repeat: DO NOT GO NEAR THE ENGINE ROOM!" The last part was shouted, making Khan cringe somewhat. The pilot continued: "We, uh, might have to crash-land on the Citadel. Like, uh, right in the middle of everything. Hope you like court-martial," he said. Khan, hoping that some sort of advice would be given, hurried into the briefing room along with pretty much everyone on the ship. The pilot's voice was heard again: "Forget the crash-land thing, we're crashing. All I can do is make sure it's only the poor bastards down below who die. Pretty much all the controls are down, so brace yourselves," it was clear in Louis' voice that he didn't expect a lot of people to live through this.
Contrary to popular belief aboard the ship, the briefing room didn't offer salvation. As soon as Khan discovered this, she hustled aimlessly around the ship, confused and positively terrified. With every step, it felt as if someone'd sucked the fluid out of her skull and that her brain was hammering into the inside of her cranium. "I swear to God, if I get through this, I'm going teetotal," she muttered to herself in an attempt to think about something other than her likely impending doom.

Suddenly she bumped into Sock. Sock was in much the same state as her, and his eyes were wide open, much like those of everyone in the ship. Khan skipped formalities, and simply asked him "Where are you going?!" Sock managed to point down the corridor in the direction he was headed and stammer "Cockpit." The Corporal responded by simply turning around and going the proposed way, followed by Sock. Upon reaching the cockpit, their hearts sank in their chests. Out the acrylic glass panes, they saw one of the Citadel Wards.
Louis looked back at them, obviously preoccupied with trying to save as many as he could, and sombrely said "If you wanna live, go back." He then redirected his attention back to the controls, ignoring the two soldiers, who then both ran off as far back as they could.

In the midst of the confusion, it was hard to imagine that anything could make the mass of panicking soldiers quiet down. However, everyone went quiet as soon as the ship started hitting the Citadel. That is, everyone realised the futility of shouting when they heard the terrible mixture of crash and screech that was summoned by the contact of metal on metal. The noise cut through Khan's ears, and expanded the pain in her head to the point where she almost fainted. What happened next wasn't entirely clear to her. What she did know, though, was that she was at least twenty metres away from where she'd been since the last place she could recall being in, and the majority of people near her were injured, unconscious, or dead. She didn't recognise anyone near her, a side effect of the shock, she determined.
Standing up, she looked down the corridor towards the cockpit; what she saw then would probably stay with her forever. It looked as if the foremost quarter of the ship had been crushed, much in the same way as when one stomps on a can. This also meant it wasn't possible to get out through the two front exits. Khan headed for the one in the back part of the cruiser, ignoring more than a few pleas for help. Finding the exit crowded, she wasn't sure what was going on. The only communication she heard was incoherent shouting and yelling, and she wasn't seeing anyone coming out. Maneuvering in between people, she saw that the entire port side of the ship was sealed off by some sort of wall.

Khan then had a frightening moment of clarity, in which she realised the odds of her dying if the ship wasn't opened soon. She moved out of the mass of people and walked slowly towards her quarters. In her footlocker she found a diary, which she'd only bought for the sake of writing a will in case something akin to this happened; she hadn't ever expected she'd need it, though.

_______________________________________________________________________

One of the men accompanying Jeremy Al-jahad was now staring him in the eye. They'd followed the rest of the people in the lounge, rushing to the window to look at the crash in mock surprise. The man reached in and talked in his ear, the crowd not hearing him because of the chatter.
"It didn't hit the Presidium."

Within minutes of the crash, Citadel Security had scrambled all of their fighters into the air, so to speak, as well as many of the associate races. The explosion was too big to be an engine malfunction, and the way it just missed the tower, it seemed the attempt was on the council.

Staff Lieutenant Jæden C. Starr was in the cockpit of his C-34 cargo craft. The Alliance had scrambled their craft for a search and rescue effort. The ASC co-pilot was flying a platoon of soldiers to the crash to look for survivors.

My first mission is part of a terrorist attack. Great.

The sound of alarms, screams, and general panic could be heard but they were slowly subsiding. Major Carson blinked his eyes repeatedly in an attempt to clear his vision, the room was spinning somewhat. Following soon after the room stopped spinning the throbbing pain in his head began.

Michael stood up and took in his surroundings. He was still in the briefing room, when the ship had impacted with the citadel he had been through to the ground, hitting his head on the way down. Michaels blood was still on the table edge. His augmentations were blocking out most the pain now and his vision was clear. Carson made his way to the table and tried to active the ships comms. The result was static, the ships power must be off in this section.

Michael pushed aside flipped chairs and entered the corridor, emergency lighting and warning strobes were activated and it looked as though the frame had buckled in areas. A marine lay unconscious on the floor in front of the Major. Michael reached down and checked his pulse, it was weak but still there. With little effort Carson put the man in a fireman carry and headed for the med bay. Hopefully it still had power and was accessible. at the very least it would have supplies for this man.

Jæden and his the flight commander, aka the main pilot, landed the craft meters from ground zero. As soon as the cargo ramp was down, marines scrambled out. Some were armed as guards, others were medics. Many came out with power tools and the such. Jæden took off his helmet. He was wearing utlity clothing [[OOC: What Shepard and most people wear while on the Normandy]] with a Kessler at his side and a slug-proof armored vest, and gloves.

He scrambled out of the back. The pilot stayed on as he went to assist the medics and such.

They were not the only ones. Soon after them, C-Sec officers as well as fire fighters and other emergency personel arrived.

((Guys, remember that they first have to make a hole in the ship for people to come out from))

The sound made when Terren placed some money on the counter seemed to resemble more along the lines of a ship exploding in space while you were in a neighbouring one. Years of experience had resulted in two things - finish what you're doing, and get moving - Fast.

In the space of seconds, Terren had gone from being a customer in a booth in the Markets to being a full-fledged sprinter with a pistol at hand. Vaulting up the stairs, careening around corners had Terren at the edge of the market, to the door that hooked into the main corridor along the ward. He ran up, tapping the door's controls. Taking a moment to look around, pistol dangling at his side he look to his right - only to see the floating, battered, and beaten hull of the SSV Kristiansand floating lifelessly towards the windows.

"Everybody! Inside the market! Move!" he bellowed and fired off a shot of his pistol to get everyone's attention. He watched in horror as he pack as many people as could run into the market, as the Kristiansand neared, his heart sunk, as he looked to the swarm of people running towards the door which he had held open. He eyed the ship carefully and begun counting down - anticipating its velocity and point of impact.

"10..." A little Asari girl tripped in the doorway.
"9..." A human man desperately threw aside an elderly Salarian in order to save his own skin.
"8..." Men began throwing punches amongst each other in order to pack into the market.
"7..." At the far end of the corridor, Terren watched as a man stared into his eyes - he wasn't going to make it to the market.
"6... 5... 4..." The door took 3 seconds to close, and get a proper seal.
"3..." Terren slammed the door's controls, the door hissing shut, to the screams and cries of countless civillians on the otherside. Each one of them pounding on the door.

Terren could do little more than spread his feet a little further than shoulder width, and lean up against the door.

"2... 1..."

He took the moment to bellow, "Brace yourselves!"

And then the ward shuddered violently as metal-on-metal and metal-on-flesh, crushing, squishing, grinding, and all variation on the unpleasant noises available to be made.

He took a moment to count again, and waited for the grinding to stop. He took a moment to unclip his pistol and aim it at the door, hoping an airtight seal had been made - luckily for him, and every other person in the markets, there was an airtight environment.

He poked his head out a moment, then stepped back into the market.

"I need every C-Sec officer, every Marine or soldier in here - and i need everyone else to go get the medical officers, stretchers, water, blankets, and tools!" he ordered. It wasn't long before he was standing next to the Kristiansand staring at the battered doorway, and then at the workers working at the ship.

He looked around, and spotted a man who seemed to know what he was doing. Terren approached Jæden, and gave a quick nod of respect, "Terren Moursun," he offered his Turian claw-like hand to the man, "What do you need me to do?"

(OOC: I wont be here till around 3:30)
Michael Turned the corner and was confronted with a wall of debris. Just beyond it the medical bay doors were visible. Michael carefully placed the soldier down, making sure the man wasn't laying on anything. As he walked toward the rubble of steel and god knows what else Carson tired his comms again. He received more static.

The constant alarms that sound on the ship had been drilling into Michaels head, he managed to block it out a little. But now he heard something else as well, it was feint and had he not been just starring at the rubble trying to figure a way past it michael might not have heard it. It was the sound of ships and possibly torches?

Michael turned and looked at the soldier, it might be best to not move him he thought.

'Hang in there buddy, ill have you out of here soon" he said as he step by the man and moved as quickly as he could to the sounds. They were a level above him, possibly near the main hatch.

Jæden hadn't seen many Turian's before, let alone talk to one, so it was somewhat of a shock when Terren spoke.

"Staff Lieutenant Jæden C. Starr, Alliance Space Command," Jæden said, shaking Terren's hand. "We need something to get through that hull. You can help them bust through by talking to him--" Jæden pointed at a marine wearing medium armor and a large, jack-hammer like tool who was trying to start it up. "He'll show you how."

(For Now, this is a continuation of my other post in Flux)
James Flannery came stumbling out of Flux.

As the people around him ran around chaotically, sparks came shooting out of various broken lights and panels. Only the emergency lights seemed to be working properly.

Flannery could make out a light at the end of the hall wall. He shoved several volus out of his way, making his way to the central wards. As he stepped out into the light, all he saw was chaos. The remains of a massive ship were lodged into the windows. Several people lay scattered about, some of them pinned down by wreckage. Bodies lay spread across the floor. Some survivors were trying to help others. Some were fleeing. A couple of C-Sec officers came rushing out from under a broken containment door.

“What the hell is going on?”


__________________________________________________________________


Retona Barralo rose from the massage table.

"What was that horrible noise?"

"It sounded like a crash of some sort," his Asari massage therapist exclaimed.

"It was probably nothing. Carry on"

Retona lay back down, relaxing.


__________________________________________________________________


Flannery looked over to the wall of rubble blocking the med bay. he turned to one of the C-Sec agents.

"Hey, someone might be trapped in there. Some of y'all come help me get them out."

The agent nodded and signalled two turians over. As the four of them made their way over to the rubble, a piece of the wrecked ship's hull snapped off, cutting through the overhang. James and one of the turians dove, and fell through a newly created gap in the debris.

Flannery looked up. He saw two men leaning up against the wall. One of them was wounded. The other was looking at him.

"Hey there. I guess we're the rescue party."

The crew of the Normandy were responding to the crash, although most of the ship had landed in the Wards closest to the Presidium, but debris had still made it into the city. Superheated metal from the explosion combusted when it fell into the atmosphere in the rest of the wards.

Curtis and Crystal and a small group had gone up to the actual crash site, the rest of the crew heading down into the city to assist C-Sec and emergency crew in putting out the fire.

The small group from the Normandy came across a Turian and Alliance soldier (Starr). Curtis needed to know what was going on, so he decided that he might as well asked.

"Curtis Freeman, SSV Normandy, whats the last sitrep?" he asked him.

Jæden looked over at Curtis and saluted quickly without waiting for it to be returned.

"Captain, we have the ASC sending in C-34's from the docks. I'm XO of the operation currently. We have surviovers trapped in the hull of the ship, fighters all over the place, C-Sec and military personel are trying to secure the area."

He saluted as the other officer did, seeing that he was in fact an officer. He was surprised anyone had survived, from the new on the radio it seemed that the thing would have totally been destroyed.

"My crew is helping out down in the city, looks like some debris was hot enough to light up some buildings. I have 8 here, and the other 20 or so are down there, just tell us where you need us" he told him.

Terren nodded to Jæden, and quickly moved over to the man with the jackhammer, relatively forcefully taking it from him, and shoving him aside. With one quick maneuver he pulled the rip cord, raised it up, and eyed the hull carefully. Terren took a step back, eyed the "line" where the who hatch's lined up.

Quickly raising the tool high, he rammed it into the hull, sending an array of sparks flying. His arms pulsated with the rhythm of the tool. He estimated the ull to be about a foot thick - that includes of course heating, air support, cables, insulation, and of course the actual metal which lined the hull. That meant he had alot to do. Growling with perseverance, he pushed on, harder and harder.

Unfortunately this really was going to be a slow and gruelling process. The tool had a 3 inch flat-headed bit on the end, which meant in order to cut a hole big enough to enter/exit, Terren needed to cut at least 30 holes. which basically meant he had to cut through 30 feet of metal.

This really was going to take some time. As he continued he turned over his shoulder yelling to Jæden, "This isn't going to be fast enough!"

He cursed. He pulled the tool out and dropped it - most likely broken. He took a moment to think, and set off on a jog down the ward, making his way to the med-clinic. The door - disabled due to the crash - made for little resistance as Terren simply pulled his pistol on the door and shattered the reinforced glass holding it in place. He stepped through eyeing a trolley labelled with nitrogen oxide. He then moved around to a bed-side tool box, pulling from it a hose, and a nozzle.

He threw them onto the trolley, and skidded around the corners with it. After a bumpy jog, dodging debris on his way back to the Kristiansand, Terren sat down, withdrawing a combat knife and a medical kit from his belt-mounted pack. He lay the tubing down in front of him, and shoved the nozzle in to one end, spraying a medical-grade sealant on it, hoping that it would hold. He then grabbed his new tool, and moved to the tanks of flammable gases. Repeating the same procedure with the other end, he then carted the trolley nearer to his cutting point.

Noting the curious eyes of the marine who he had formerly taken his job, he simply smiled. "Home-made acetaline torch," he grinned. "Never had a pyromaniac stage?"

With a flick of his muscular wrist, the Turian flicked the gasket on the tanks, the surge of gases could be heard. Quickly, but effectively he adjusted the nozzle, and then drew up one of his pistols, and shot it very near the path of the gases that left the bodge-job tool. In an instant, a small "pop" could be heard, as the home-made torch lit up, with a few minor adjustments it became a straight flame.

Wasting no time, Terren took the flame to the hull of the ship - it'd be slow, but a lot faster than the jackhammer.

"If you could help load casualties onto that C-34--" Jæden pointed to the gleaming ship, "that would be great, Captain. I've got to get sitreps from everyone."

Carson bounded over a piece of hull that have been crushed and scrapped up like tin foil. Beneath he saw the metal of the citadel. Sadly it was cold hard floor and there was no way anyone was getting out that way. this ship had turned from a fine war machine into a metal box of death. Who knew what could possibly go wrong with it, power was out and he remembered the report saying the engine room had been hit. For all Michael knew the ship could blow due to any number of reason in the next moment.

Pushing those types of thoughts away Carson continued forward pushing metal cross bars and cables out of his path. The sounds of what must be rescue crews had grown louder but were still distant enough for him to know he wasn't at the main hatch yet.

"Shit!" Michael exclaimed as a wire hanging from the ceiling sparked near by illuminating the corridor. Michael baked away from it and stumbled into the mess hall. He was surprised to hear voices. Michael turned and saw that crews members, either taking refuge here or were already here when the ship crash, were alive. And it seemed that the ships chief medical officer had set up a small MASH.

"Major! We have wounded we need to get to the medical bay" said the chief medical officer as she walked towards Michael. She had a gash on her cheek and a little limp but seemed fine otherwise.

"Already been that way LT the path is blocked. Those noises must be rescue crews trying to cut through the the hull. We need to get to them and help speed up the process anyway we can so these people can get to the proper medical facilities." Michael reached over to her and grabbed a small device out of her pocket...it was a radio, he pushed it into his ear and activated it on all channels hoping to get to the crews outside. Interference from the ships damaged electronic systems made the signal weak but he still had to try.

"This is Major Michael Carson, Commanding military Officer of the SSV Kristiansand to any rescue teams, we have wounded and need to get them off the ship ASAP. What is your location?"

Jæden was busy talking to a Salarian C-Sec officer when he heard the weak transmission.

"This----ajor M-----arson, Comman---- military Officer of the SSV Kristians--------ny rescue teams, we-----ounded and need to get them off the shi------AP. What is your----ation?"

Jæden put his hand on his headset. "Major--" he assumed that was correct, "This is Lieutenant Jæden Starr, ASC. Do you read me?"

More static.

"Martinez, clean that up!" Jæden ordered an enlisted soldier aboard the C-34.

After what seemed like an eternity, a circular hole had been cut in the hull of the ship - appropximately 70 centimeters in diameter. More than enough to get tools, people, and stretches both in and out. Terren looked around for something solid - finding nothing of substance, he took a few steps back, shoving the trolley aside.

He spoke at a normal volume, his tone demanding and decisive. "Stand back," he said as he withdrew his pistols and aimed them at the solid chunk of metal between him and the rescue of the crew of the SSV Kristiansand. With several loud shots from his pistols at the lower part of the "plug", the chunk twisted enough to allowed a grip onto the top end. Quickly holstering his pistols and moving forward, grabbing a firm grip on the chunk, he began pulling furiously - the other marines and c-sec personell standing nearby noticed and jumped on assisting. After a minute of heaving and grinding, the plug fell free.

Terren took a minute, "Get medical supplies, fire extinguishers, and follow me in," he spoke then clambered in activating an omni tool on his left hand - a flashlight. The beam shed a blue-white light across the seemingly "access" tunnel along the edge of the ship - it was enough. He clambered in, ripping wires with his hands as he carved his way into the ship. Once finally on the grated maintenance tunnel, he moved aft, quickly shimmying down the hall to a panel.

With a forceful kick, the panel popped off, and he crawled out. He looked around a moment, and stood up and yelled, "Anyone there?! Any crew alive?" he looked around and quickly pulled a small electronic flare from his belt placing it at the panel - a simple signal to where the exit was. He stood there a moment, waiting for tools, and the other men who were helping the effort to get onboard.

After helping several wounded patients out of the wards medical facilities, Flannery continued on his way. Pushing his way past several C-Sec response agents, he made his way over to the remains of the hull.

He could see several Alliance and C-Sec officers searching the hull. It now had a large hole down the middle. Rescuers were searching through the ship for survivors.

He walked over to the officer talking to a Salarian.

"Hey, what can I do to help."

"Major--" he assumed that was correct, "This is tenant Jæn Starr, AS. Do you re m?"

A broken message came through the channel confirming that Carsons thoughts. Rescue teams were here and from the sounds of it, they were getting closer.

"Starr?? I hear you but the signal is rough im gonna move to a better position copy?" Michael signaled the medical officer to begin prepping the injured for transport and he ran out of the mess hall.

"Starr?? I--ear you but-----ignal is rou----m gonna mo---a better posi----copy?"

"I copy," Jæden responded as he moved toward the gigantic reckage, near the hole made by the Turian. "I've got them on radio. Let me through."

James moved aside as the human with the radio (Jaeden) brushed past, moving towards the large hole that had been carved into the ship. He followed.

"Damn, y'all done got yourself a signal on that thing! Who all is in there? Ain't nobody gonna survive an impact like that without a couple broken ribs. Do y'all need some help down there?"

"We could use a few people."

Jæden sighed as he touched his headset.

"Major, do you copy? This is Staff Lieutenant Starr. Do you copy?"

Michael was moving as quickly as somebody could in a damaged vessel such as this. He had passed a few dead body's and regretfully couldn't stop. He had to get to the the main hatch or at least closer to this Lieutenant. The only problem was that Michaels sense of direction had been completely thrown off. He hadn't had enough time to familiarize himself with the ship before it crashed. Now he had to depend on any sounds he could hear.

As Carson reached a junction in the corridor he picked up another message on the channel, this time it was coming through much clearer . Hopefully that was a good sign.

"Major, do you cop..? This is Staff Lieutenant Starr. Do y.. copy?"

Michael stopped for a second looking around the junction before responding.
"Roger this Major Carson, your signal is much stronger Lieutenant."

"Good. I'm going to move around, tell me if the signal is getting stronger or weaker."

Jæden motioned for some of the workers to follow as he picked a random non-blocked path.

James followed the lieutenant down the ship's corridor.

"Damn. It's pretty nasty in here."

Burnned-out flight consoles and equipment dotted the semi entact sections of the deck. Charred remains lay in some singed chairs, while other casualties were slumped on the floor. The overhead emergency lighting flickered, sending sparks across the ceilling.

Good thing there ain't a fuel leak, James thought.

A large, broken panel fell from the top of the roof, hitting the LT on the head. He fell out on the deck, holding his head.

"SH--T!" he yelled vulgarly. "What in the hell was THAT?"

His "statement" transmitted through the radio, as well as the clunk of metal-on-bone.

Michael continued on until the voices were loud enough to sound like they were right beside him.

"Damn. It's pretty nasty in here."

"SH--T!" "What in the hell was THAT"

Michael moved forward only to be blocked by a bulkhead that had sealed during the crash.

"This is Carson I can here you inside the ship, look for a sealed bulkhead marked corridor //25Z-06// I am on the other side."

"I will....as soon as I get this hunk of metal off of me."

Jæden threw the hunk off of him, dust himself off, and kept walking. He spent another 15 minutes searching through the wreckage for the Major until he found the sealed bulkhead.

"Major, do you copy? I am on the other side of the bulkhead. Repeat, I am on the other side of the bulkhead."

"Here. This is my specialty partner. Tell your friend to step away from the other side of the bulk head."
James drew out his moddified shotgun, and began pumping.

"I'm gonna blow this sucker up."

Terren stepped forward, grabbing James' hand, pulling his shotgun down. "Imbecile. You think a pea shooter like that will work against an Alliance bulkhead door?" He growled at the human's stupidity as he towered over him. "Not to mention its a blast door, meant to reflect energy and projectiles. You shoot at that door, we're going to wear more damage than the door!"

He growled once more. "Don't cowboy around when people's lives are at risk, boy," he looked around once more, noting a panel on the side. Grabbing its asthetic covering with his hand, he grasped it and pulled forcefully. Reaching to his belt he pulled a power cell and clasped it in his hand softly as he fiddled with the combobulated mess of wires.

As he worked, he turned his head to Starr and Flannery, "I need you two to pull on the door when the seal breaks - It should open a few inches and the motor will grind it but we need to do the rest."

He spoke softly as he connected the power cell up, and a small orange light ticked on on the panel.

"Ready?"

[What do you mean you failed?]

Jæden nodded, grabbing on to it.

Since she did not have much experience writing wills, Corporal Alisha Khan was going through the process slowly, and had not written much when she began to hear the loud noises of people trying to open up the ship, and though she had assumed that was simply a futile attempt by the people trapped at first, she quickly realised it was coming from the outside. Looking up from the diary, she found an excessively large Private 1st Degree (she saw on his uniform) with a dark complexion sitting opposite of her, staring eagerly at her. Apparently her sudden movement had inspired him to react, and his deep voice rang clearly in her mind, which was clouded with pain and grim expectations. "Khan? You there?"

While it wasn't surprising that her knew her name (her surname, specifically, which was in fact written on a tattoo on her lower arm, which was visible because of her sleeves being rolled up), it was odd how familiarly he said it. She remembered that she didn't recognise anyone on the ship currently, so she asked tentatively, though perhaps not too subtly "Who are you?" The man had obviously not expected this answer, and he hesitated a bit before answering. "It's Harris, don't you recognise me?" Obviously, Khan thought before trying to recognise the face. While she did indeed still remember her friends from the squad, it didn't quite compute that the man in front of her should be Harris. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, knowing that her judgement right now was highly flawed. "Right, sorry, just kinda hazy right now," she mumbled, pretending to recognise Harris, "what's up?"
Harris replied somewhat off-handedly, "Not much, except we're pretty sure someone's gotten in." Khan jumped, "They opened the ship up?! Already?" She understood she had been pretty distracted, so making an assumption about how long it'd taken was probably a bad idea. Deciding that conversation ranked second to getting the hell out of the cruiser, she stood up without thought and began to run out the corridor, guessing which way to go. Looking at her surroundings, she realised that she was surprisingly unscathed, having suffered only a few superficial cuts and bruises.

Sure enough, she eventually found a big LED flare, which led her attention to the big hole in the exterior. Not wanting to stir up too much of a riot, she began climbing out of the hole. People noticed her and began to point, but no-one really took action until she saw the people trying to open the blast doors. Hurrying down to them, she identified them all as ranking above her. She saluted to them, not entirely sure what to say, then settled on "Uh... Hi." She quickly decided that this was one of the worst ideas she'd ever had, but it was too late to change now.

"Corporal," Jæden said, "help us open this bulkhead...enghhh...."

Not seeing, or hearing Khan, Terren quickly tapped the button on the console, a profound "hiss" seeping through the door as a quick exchange of expired, heated, and fresh air seemed to diffuse through the growing gap in the door. Terren then quickly lurched his body to the door, jamming his leg into the gap, pushing against the bulkhead in order to get leverage. The group of people who had been working on the door quickly managed to open the door.

Terren simply smiled as he saw Major Carson on the otherside, a bewildered look on his face. "Hello, Major. Heard you locked the keys in the ship?" A grin on his face quickly turned to seriousness as he turned around, spotting Alisha.

He took the moment to move over slowly. "Corporal," he spoke softly, "Hows the hangover?" he grinned softly.

The Corporal continued her salute, obviously somewhat cheerful at the opening of the door, but also obviously extremely hazy. She looked at the turian, whom she had no recollection of, and confusedly answered "Uh... Not good, sir. Can't say that the ship crashing helped me out alot, either."

She kept standing at attention despite her raging hangover, fighting an overwhelming dizzyness that was coming to her head. Inside she wished for nothing other than one of the officers to say "at ease" or, even better, "dismissed, soldier". She noticed one of the men holding a shotgun in his hands, and let her curiosity get the better of her, directing her attention once again to the turian, speaking as hushedly as it is possible when standing at attention: "Sir, I am curious as to why there is apparently a civilian wielding a firearm in the vicinity of the... the crashed ship, which is full of injured soldiers, as well as near a growing civilian crowd, sir."

Jæden noticed she was at attention. "At ease, Corporal. No need for formalities here. As far as him...." Jæden looked back, then back at the Coporal. "He was going to 'help' us bust through the door, but Terren here found a better way."

In the midst of the this chaos Carson let a small chuckle escape his lips. Than it was back to business. Open the bulkhead had revealed numerous men on the other side all with gear and supplies at the ready.

"We have set up a makeshift medical bay in the Mess hall, anyone with medical equipment or supplies report to the ships Chief Medical officer she will know who needs treatment first." Michael walked up to Terren and extended his hand.

"its good to see some faces, we better start searching the ship for others"

"So, I guess I don't need my 'pea shooter' afterall," James said bitterly. He did not enjoy being made a fool of, especially by a Turian.

"So any idea what the hell happened here?"

He turned to Carson and Khan hoping for answers.

Terren turned, eyeing off Carson, Khan, Starr and Flannery.
"Enough chatter. Get flashlights, and search the ship. Get everyone off as quickly as we can," he spoke quickly and shoved past the group heading towards the mess hall where Major Carson and his men had set up a make-shift medical bay.

Jæden nodded, pulling a flashlight from his flight gear. No matter how advanced technology got, the flashlight wasn't going anywhere.