It was true, the deck of the ship was going to get really dangerous as those beasts drew closer. Mary was no stranger to this sort of situation, though, and would have managed herself just fine using the various forms of cover scattered on the quarterdeck. Still, an order was an order, and she could hardly refuse. "Aye, ma'am!" she succinctly responded, before hurrying abaft, even as she felt the very ambience drain away into magical fire. It could be a little disorienting, but she hadn't spent enough time in the area of effect for it to matter. Her feet carried her down the stairs to the gunnery decks, and she closed the door behind her.<br/><br/>She soon came upon the first officer, to whom she promptly reported the situation above. The crew was already preparing for such an instance, and so mesh netting had been pulled out of the supplies and was being distributed to the gun crews. The officer quickly barked orders to double-time the netting, and Mary moved to help. The netting was affixed to the inner hull, around the cannons. It wouldn't stop a fleshpecker from tearing through it, but it would slow them down long enough to put a bullet through their heads if they tried to make their way inside through the gunports.<br/><br/>This seemed much less stressful than being abovedeck, the Sergeant considered. Sure, she had an officer yelling orders at her at any given time, but she was part of a crew here, rather than being the only person in a group who couldn't use magic or control warpieces. As long as she did her job, here, nobody would really notice her, and that was the way she'd grown accustomed to, in her years of service. Was that really for the best? Well, from her experiences of trying to be an officer, probably.<br/><br/>Suddenly, she heard a strangely familiar voice from outside. Could it be someone from the camp? Moving to the other side of the ship, she gently lifted on the mesh hole that the cannon fit through, and peered beneath. She spotted the woman hustling toward the fallen fleshpecker bodies. She didn't need her scope to see who that was. Though they had never formally met, the two had likely seen eachother around when Mary had been helping to scout the territory the first time around. Mary had gotten the impression that Miss Greon was a little too attached to the wildlife for her own good, while she had probably not given the mechanic much of an impression, if she was remembered at all, as she tended to keep quiet and low-profile when she wasn't in a combat situation. Perhaps she had noticed the steam-powered prosthesis Mary had, despite her attempts to keep it concealed, much as Carrie had.<br/><br/>Still, at this point, it was unlikely Mildred would have spotted her, even if she did know who she was. She was a face sticking out in a mesh in a gunport amidst dozens of other gunports in a rather huge airship. There were still a handful of live, scattered, albeit probably more hesitant fleshpeckers trying to circumvent the fire and gunshots to get themselves a snack. In Stalwart's view, Miss Greon couldn't have picked a worse time to come out and grumble at them and pout over dead birds. Mary pulled her face back and let the mesh close around the cannon again. "Oh, boy. What's she doing?" she quietly wondered. It wouldn't do to yell a caution at her from where Mary was; this would only draw the birds toward the gunports. Then again, she probably somehow, some way, knew exactly what she was doing out there.