06-17-2016, 06:12 PM
Carmelita waved to acknowledge the short man who was working in the depths of the plane to unhook people and carry them out of one of the emergency exit, and swiftly joined him.
The first trip out of the plane, with the crew member clutching on to her tightly, she could see that the situation was poor. It hadn’t been obvious inside, but from the outside the way the tail had landed meant that the still huge segment of the plane had bent, shattered and warped, the rearmost sections in the sea (though the emergence of a girl wielding a red spear suggested that the evacuation of those parts were possible) whilst the middle section had bent upwards. The branches that had threatened to skewer her were in fact part of the canopy of the island’s trees. Overall, everything was a complete mess, and it was all she could do to help get people out of the wreckage.
She stood at the bottom of the emergency slide that had deployed with a sad puff upon the door being opened and took the bodies, unconscious or deceased, and took them a safe distance away from the wreckage. Once or twice they’d squirm in her arms, waking fitfully, and she’d mutter empty words before depositing them in the shade of the tree sheltered from the drizzle that occasionally turned into short sharp downpours.
Halfway through evacuating the section on the upper bounds of the beach, she and the short man took a breather for a moment.
“Carmelita,” she introduced herself from where she was standing below.
“Gin,” came the reply, before they proceeded to continue the task of pulling people from the wreckage.
It wasn’t long before the section she and Gin had been in had been cleared of bodies, and Carmelita took a moment to check for signs of fuel or other dangers that might prohibit salvage. Nothing immediately caught her eye, but then again she was no expert. Now would be an excellent time to call one.
Her earpieces extended into the eyepieces, and she tried to activate the Dataverse connection. There was nothing but a cold silence.
“Call Chip.”
--No signal--
“Mierda.”
Carmelita took that as a sign to check herself over again, as well as her equipment. She still had her shock pistol on her, her collar and its stealth cloak would likely be unharmed, and her belt was both intact and had her cuffs still in their container. She hadn’t lost her earpieces and the Dataverse connector box was still intact. She checked the wire that connected the two communications equipment, but it was not broken. The communications problem appeared beyond her capabilities.
She turned away and strode back to where people had gathered, thankful for her red trench coat in the light rain, looking to find someone who knew their aeronautical engineering.
The first trip out of the plane, with the crew member clutching on to her tightly, she could see that the situation was poor. It hadn’t been obvious inside, but from the outside the way the tail had landed meant that the still huge segment of the plane had bent, shattered and warped, the rearmost sections in the sea (though the emergence of a girl wielding a red spear suggested that the evacuation of those parts were possible) whilst the middle section had bent upwards. The branches that had threatened to skewer her were in fact part of the canopy of the island’s trees. Overall, everything was a complete mess, and it was all she could do to help get people out of the wreckage.
She stood at the bottom of the emergency slide that had deployed with a sad puff upon the door being opened and took the bodies, unconscious or deceased, and took them a safe distance away from the wreckage. Once or twice they’d squirm in her arms, waking fitfully, and she’d mutter empty words before depositing them in the shade of the tree sheltered from the drizzle that occasionally turned into short sharp downpours.
Halfway through evacuating the section on the upper bounds of the beach, she and the short man took a breather for a moment.
“Carmelita,” she introduced herself from where she was standing below.
“Gin,” came the reply, before they proceeded to continue the task of pulling people from the wreckage.
It wasn’t long before the section she and Gin had been in had been cleared of bodies, and Carmelita took a moment to check for signs of fuel or other dangers that might prohibit salvage. Nothing immediately caught her eye, but then again she was no expert. Now would be an excellent time to call one.
Her earpieces extended into the eyepieces, and she tried to activate the Dataverse connection. There was nothing but a cold silence.
“Call Chip.”
--No signal--
“Mierda.”
Carmelita took that as a sign to check herself over again, as well as her equipment. She still had her shock pistol on her, her collar and its stealth cloak would likely be unharmed, and her belt was both intact and had her cuffs still in their container. She hadn’t lost her earpieces and the Dataverse connector box was still intact. She checked the wire that connected the two communications equipment, but it was not broken. The communications problem appeared beyond her capabilities.
She turned away and strode back to where people had gathered, thankful for her red trench coat in the light rain, looking to find someone who knew their aeronautical engineering.