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Miss A picked herself up off the dusty ground and brushed herself off, looking slightly dazed but otherwise little the worse for wear. "That was a dirty trick." She listened to the shouts coming from the dome and quickly took to the air again, heading in that direction. "Just give me one minute, Jill, I think I can help you out." She dug into the pocket of her suit for her electronic toolkit, then grabbed the small device she used to generate her personal protection forcefield. The little ArcheTech device was much too small to be of any use in stabilizing the dome or even patching the hole, it would need far more power than the battery could provide. 

 

With a muttered curse, she flicked open her penknife and sliced open the arm of her suit from glove to elbow, then opened the access panel on the inside of her left wrist. As she approached the damaged dome, she fiddled hastily with the power conduits to her hand, freeing one and tugging on it till it poked free of its housing. Her entire left hand went dead, which made the work awkward, but it was still easy enough to plug the power conduit into her forcefield generator. They were, after all, both ArcheTech products. Cradling her damaged arm, she landed next to Jill and activated the device, sending a warm blue hum of energy rushing over the surface of the dome and making Miss A stagger just a little bit. "All right?" she asked Jill. 

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After giving his friend a quick once-over to make sure he wasn't about to break any so-fragile human bones, Caradoc carefully knelt down and took Jack's hand, raising him upright with uncommon gentleness for someone so big. "We are both in good hands, my friend," he reassured Jack, even as he looked over the other man's injuries. The auto-sealing features on the borrowed Farsider spacesuit had saved Jack from an unpleasant fate when shrapnel tore its tough fabric, but he knew the wounds on the fabric had to reflect wounds within. To match the still-burnt scar carved into the metal and flesh over where the 'Star Knight's sword had struck him. 

 

"Miss Americana and Jill O'Cure have sealed the gap in the dome. For the moment, we have warred on the Moon - and won." As he spoke, he cast his head upwards, his gaze looking for the Communion ship that had detached from its armada to raid the Lunar dome - and didn't find it! Comm signals were coming in from the dome. The troops there, who had taken only light causalities thanks to everyone's quick thinking, appeared to be praising their saviors, and thanking the gods worshipped by the Farsiders for their salvation.

 

"Go inside," he urged Jack, heedless as ever of his own injuries. "Rally the Farsiders." 

 

Not far away, the multicolored Star Knights had rallied together, the salmon-colored one carrying the broken remains of the crimson-hued 'Knight', the corpse it had once been wrapped around left to lie unburied on lunar soil. Without a word to the organic heroes on the scene, the 'Knights' took off, vanishing after a few hundred meters into the pocket spatial distortion they had used to travel there in the first place. 

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Jill noted the exposed electronics in Miss Americana's forearm with perhaps less interest than she might have under other circumstances, the bulk of her attention still on maintaining the force field over the dome. It made sense, she supposed; Mara had mentioned with some grudging admiration that her rival - if that was even really the word - specialized in bleeding edge prosthesis. The medic didn't comment over the open comm channel, unsure if anyone else was close enough to have noticed. Everyone knew how image-conscious the CEO was and if she wasn't inclined to make her replacement limb or limbs public knowledge then Jill certainly wasn't going to take the choice out of her hands, especially not as a result of saving her bacon. Instead she gave Miss Americana a significant look from behind the faceplate of her suit and said, "S'alright, yeah. If you can help with the heavy lifting I can make sure the lattice stays in solid shape."
 
With a grunt, Jack wobbled for a moment as he regained his footing. "Sure hurts a lot for winning. I guess losing doesn't hurt at all, haa-ow, okay, no laughing right now." Breathing through his nose for a few seconds, he marshaled his wits and jogged off toward the dome as Steve had suggested. "We're all big time space heroes now, folks, it'll make a lousy story if we die now! Evacuation time, let's go!"

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Steve sometimes had no idea what was going on when it came to Earth-Prime culture - but Harrier could recognize danger instantly and adapt accordingly. "Yes. You rally the Farsiders. I will assist the evacuation." He turned to Jack of all Blades and told him seriously. "Make sure your sister tends your wounds. Do not work until you faint." Left unspoken was the natural reality that Steve himself would work until he fell without a single complaint. He strode quickly for the force field, trusting that it would be permeable for matter entering from this side.

 

Inside, the Farsiders were obviously tense - but not at the point of panic. After all, they were a population of airbreathers who lived on an airless rock. The idea of evacuation drills and suit prep was something they knew from childhood. He left Jack to speak to the deputy commander of the base, an efficient professional who towered over both men with the usual long, lanky Lunar build, his superior being worked on by medics nearby their conversation. "By atmo, your clade should visit Luna more often!" declared Lieutenant Tri'ennek to Jack, in the central square of the small military complex. "I can't...I can't believe no one died!" 

 

When Caradoc reached one particular structure inside the domed compound, a small shelter barely big enough for two people to move around in (as he knew), he quickly began sealing it up - after all, the precious cargo in here might be needed to save the entire planet. He paused for a moment, knowing Gina was only inches from his fingers, before he returned to work. 

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Geckoman swiftly jogged after Erik, easily keeping pace with the wounded man even if their positions were reversed. He clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Slow yourself down, asshole." He overtook him, as if in demonstration. "You're hurt, and we don't need you to go busting another rib or something." He knew that no matter what he said, Erik wasn't actually going to stop. Which kind of made sense, he'd do the same, but that didn't mean it was clever.

 

"I will help you evacuate the dome, OK?" He purposefully didn't change his tone of voice, but nonetheless wasn't intending it as a question.

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"Knight armor robots are gone," Dragonfly announced, swooping in flanked by her drones. Without a target their large eyes were blue again, bodies swiveling around to survey their surroundings with something akin to protective curiosity.

She flexed a shoulder plate, carefully picking out a piece of shrapnel that had gotten stuck under the joint. lucky - a little more force would have pierced the first seal "Can start running groups to safety - pocket them, fly over. Leave a drone here for communication. Any injured or infirm that are priorities?"

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Miss Americana was still huddled protectively over her damaged arm, but she looked over her shoulder to tell Dragonfly, "I have some, ah, sensitive equipment in the dome that would be damaged if it gets depressurized, but I think Caradoc is taking care of it for me. I don't know about any other specific cases, but the Farsiders probably have some protocols in place?" The link between her internal batteries and the device she'd hooked up remained steady and strong, but the power fluctuations caused by its varying energy demands were playing merry hell with her internal gyroscopes. Rather than risk falling, she carefully knelt down next to Jill, knees together and bottom sitting comfortably on her heels. "I can keep this up for awhile," she assured the medic quietly, "though my arm's not going to be worth much for awhile afterwards. You still okay?" 

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"You're an asshole," Jack shot back grumpily, even as he accepted Geckoman's support and rested some of his weight on the younger man with a pained grunt. "Nhff. Thanks, hermano. You ever notice how every time we deal with alien stuff I always get halfway blown up? What's up with that, right?" An unpleasant pattern was definitely starting to form. Figuring that the Farsiders had to be pretty good at dealing with the impending threat of hard vacuum, the leader of the Interceptors deferred to Lieutenant Tri'ennek, mainly serving as a rallying point for the startled moon-dwellers when the junior officer's confidence or authority seemed to waver. Decapitating one of the corpse-filled Star Knight robots in a single blow might not have been the wisest long term course of action but it certainly lent some credence to the swordsman's shouted instructions.
 
Jill offered Miss Americana a faint smile even as the muscles in her jaw tightened with the concentration of maintaining the force field around the dome. "So far so good, yeah. How, uh, about you? I don't want to make a thing about it or anything but if I'm going to be playing healing potion for everybody later I might kinda need to know what the deal is with the Bionic Woman routine." There was a note of apology in her tired voice, reluctant to pry into what could well be a very sensitive topic, but harsh pragmatism won out.

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Miss A jolted a bit at the question, but quickly calmed herself back to impassivity, her eyes focused downward on her arm and not going anywhere near meeting Jill's gaze. "I'm doing fine," she assured Jill in a low voice. "I can do this as long as necessary to evacuate the dome. You don't need to worry about doing first aid on me, I won't need it." She snorted a little. "Even if I did, your girlfriend would be the more qualified to render it. There'll be plenty of people here who need medical attention, I'm sure. That blast into the dome was pretty severe, even though you managed to keep it from depressurizing. Caradoc?" she called out, activating her radio with her working hand, "how are you doing in there?" 
 

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