Notices


IC: So Say We All

 


Dr. Jared Meas

Jared said nothing while they both filled their plate with refreshments, restricted to some fresh fruit and a glass of water in the Doctor's case, he hadn't been that hungry to start with and performing even the most minor of surgeries in practice didn't really boost his appetite. But when they advanced toward their next objective he couldn't keep his opinions to himself anymore, "I think you must have misunderstand me back there, or perhaps the substance of it all was lost behind all the words. You have been to medical school, you know the impact the mind has on one's health and more precisely the importance of existing in the future as well as the present but not in the past. If your only state in life is war or pre-war, you will soon stop living in the future and then what? Of course you can find pleasure in the small things in present life, perhaps even enough of those to have you carry on. But you will never find true peace on the inside if you don't except any moment of peace on the outside."



Artemis was fully prepared for her flight as the subtle alarm and blinking cockpit light informed her of being pulled out of the catapult. Unworried, she figured that it was something wrong with the tube until her Viper continued to be pulled to the rear of the deck.

No... Gods no!

Artemis had every intention of arguing with AT2 Stone, no doubt the cause of the relegation of her bird to Deck Queen, though she knew all the pleading in the Twelve Colonies wouldn't get her flying any time soon. She had wrestled herself free of her harnesses and opened her canopy, irritably waving away those assigned to helping her. As her feet touched hard deck, she overheard the report from Stone to the Chief.

"... each skid assembly has two to five severe fractures, and at least two of the gimbal housing have visible fractures in them."

Artemis knew very little beyond basic maintenance and confirming her Viper didn't actually run on Pure Frakking Magic, but she knew enough to know that fractured skids cost lives, whether from a misfired launch or from a botched hard landing; it was likely Arianna Stone had just saved her life.

"A word."

Artemis didn't expect the Chief's taciturn response, but the hushed tones that followed, as well as Stone's complexion turning beet red let her know she was probably receiving a dressing down. Her peripheral vision caught Snakeshit, so she decided to have a word with him while she waited for the Chief, one of the fathers of the Mark VI, to finish and to make the full diagnosis.

"Really? A Crazy Ivan Catch? In a Raptor? With your cargo at the time!?" She sternly asked him as she stepped into his path, shaking her head as he replied. "That has easily got to be one of the craziest things of today... and today's rewriting the Book on crazy." She couldn't hold her 'cold' stare any longer as a sly smile stole across her lips. "Fortunately it was only the second craziest thing a pilot did." With a wink, she turned on her heel and headed back towards the chief. She didn't know if he knew what she was talking about, and she had no intention of letting him inquire about it, or add some witty retort.

Her path back to the Chief had her cross her savior's path, her shoulders slumped from being lectured for some crime unknown to the Viper pilot.

"Arianna, that's twice you've saved me today. Carry on like this and you'll be my favourite Techie." She beamed a smile to try and put back some of the wind that was no doubt knocked out of her during her talk with her Chief. "But seriously... Thank you." She gave Stone's shoulder a friendly pat and a squeeze before carrying on, not wanting to hold her up and get her into more trouble.

She reached the Chief just as he had finished with a Marine officer, no doubt the ship's new M-C-O. She gave him an ackowledging nod before turning her full attention to the one man who could get her flying again today in her Viper.

"C-Lt Alana Gorgo, callsign Artemis." She introduced herself. "Hell of a first day in charge, eh Chief?" Her eyes flickered over to the M-C-O; no doubt the sentiment wasn't lost on him either.

ATC Joran Belar



Sure that 3Lt. Fuller was doing okay with Goshan and his crew, Joran concentrated zipping up his coveralls and slinging his tool-belt on. As he did so, Artemis approached him.

"C-Lt Alana Gorgo, callsign Artemis. Hell of a first day in charge, eh Chief?"

Finishing his buckle in the nick of time, he straightens up and gives the cadet a quick salute - formal enough to give her the respect she was due and to train her in receiving them, but casual enough to note that though she's an officer, she is still a cadet and he is the master of the deck.

"Lt. Gorgo, it's good to actually see you not stuck in a lift," he quips back. Running his hand through his hair, he lets out a sigh. "And yeah - this was DEFINITELY never covered in either basic OR any of the annual GMT's we sit through. But I suppose this isn't a social call - you're wanting to hear about your bird, right? Why don't you walk with me over to her - I'll fill you in. Just a warning though, I'm already thinking repairs in my head, so I might be a bit... out of touch."

Joran's understatement manifests almost immediately - oblivious to anything Artemis may have replied, or even if she was still with him, he begins walking over to the Viper sitting Deck Queen, brow furrowed in thought and his eyes half lidded, as if he were reading the insides of his eyelids. He also absentmindedly pulls a spanner from his belt and, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, begins to draw it back and forth, his left arm out before him fingering a phantom instrument.

"So your bird has three skids, right? The damage to them tells me how you like to land when you land heavy - and it actually tells me that you're either naturally right-handed or you were a lefty as a kid and are now more-or-less ambidextrous because your teachers forced you to use your right hand and now you overcompensate with it unconsciously. You see, each one of your skids has at least two major fractures in them - the rear right one has five - your nose doesn't hit as hard as the rear two when you're dropping. That's to be expected - but you've got more fractures on the right than on the left, which tells me that even with both hands on the stick, you're still pulling right a hair when you contact. Either way, they need to be repaired, especially the rear two. That's because within each skid assembly there's a gimbal with some electronics in the center that help you orient as you touch down in gravity to make sure that your skid lands flat, and THEN the rest of your skid and bird straighten up. Sort of like your ankle when you're running? Anyway, the housing mounts for the gimbal assemblies on the rear two skids are part of what's cracked. I have to get into them to make sure the electronics are okay and none of the gimbals have locked into shared axes, and then patch up the housings. Luckily the fractures on the load-bearing struts are where the most damage is, and those can just be straight swapped out. I could replace the gimbal housings too, but that requires the machine shop to get hopping on making brand new replacements to cover what we use from the stores, AND it's a much longer evolution to replace them and recalibrate them instead of just patching the ones you have. That is, if you want your bird flying in the next 48 hours? Though I suppose if you really want to get back in the air, you could try swapping with another pilot as they come in - you'd have to talk to the Major about that, or the CAG or whoever has authority over it. I just fix these frakking things."

Almost like it was rehearsed, Joran finishes speaking and seems to come back to himself at the same time as arriving at Artemis's damaged Viper. Again, without regard to whether or not he's been talking to himself this whole time or not, he gets down to work. Finding a nearby creeper, he lays down on it and slides himself under the nose to get at the skid assembly, hoping to get the easy strut replacement done first. As he gets into the
Dice Roll: 1d10 1d12 1d10t
d10 Results: 7
d12 Results: 9
d10 Results: 5
Sum Total: 21
rhythm of his work, the time seems to pass like nothing else is going on in the entire galaxy.

Raptor 212

Mast just looks at Thompson, nods her thanks for catching her, sits back down, and looks at him with the slightly-altered expression he knows is expressing curiosity. "Isn't that just a little overly paranoid, even for us? I mean, the trust is nice--since we have been saving each others' asses and living in the same space more often than not for several years--but still..." Her voice was laced with humor and a slight edge of worry...after all, if Thompson had gone cracked, it wouldn't be the first time. By far.

And it was--sadly--part of their escorts' duties to look after the crazy ones until they, too, could be 'rendered safe'. They were well-trained in the signs; it was obvious she wasn't really worried, but Julie never let personal feelings get in the way of duty.


3LT Sampson Fuller
Life Points:18/18 Plot Points 7/7

All Dressed Up
"C-Lt Alana Gorgo, callsign Artemis." She introduced herself. "Hell of a first day in charge, eh Chief?" Her eyes flickered over to the M-C-O; no doubt the sentiment wasn't lost on him either.

Sampson Fuller noticed the look he received from the attractive fighter jock. And she was attractive, but that seemed to be the order of the day on this new assignment. It was brief, but he acknowledged her unspoken addition with a look of his own. Yes, hell of a first day. But he had shed that self-absorbed companion to the vice-prez, so even with the Cylon invasion his day was actually looking up. Right now facing down the tin cans alone, armed with a toothbrush and still in his skivies seemed like a boost. But that wasn't really fair. The doctor had been under undue stress. He was probably a much more likable human once you got to know him.

Once Goshan sorted the people Belar gave him to work with he stopped a moment and glanced back at her. He gave her a reassuring smile before turning back to Petras. "If the tinnies hit us here I intend to hold the ship by focusing our strength at the main entries points and falling back by quarters to choke points if necessary. My Marines are tough enough, and no doubt skilled enough to do the job but we have been left under strength. There are also the MA's and as you can see they are ready to rumble, but we still have an entire ship to protect."

Fuller looked around at everyone present and willed himself to project the seriousness of his position. "To do that I am going to need your people to team up with my Marines and the MA's and act in support of our actions. We need to stop the Toasters here. This far, no farther. So I need an honest assessment of how good your people are and where you think they can best be used. Don't sugar coat it or try to give me BS about killing a Cylon for Picon. We may have to repel boarders and we know for certain it takes a lot of effort to bring down the enemy. Rate your people for me. How competent would you say you are in a knockdown drag out fight. Don't worry about being honest with me but keep in mind I'm going to ask Cpl Aramaki here for the exact same evaluation of your people in a second."

"Same goes for you Goshan," Fuller added, "Can you shoot and fight? Either way, if it hits the fan and you can't get back to the chief, stick with me."




Thompson cocked his head quizzically to the side before it dawned on him, "Come on Julie, obviously I meant the only other person, besides myself, that I trust right now is you. You know me better than that." He had a slight smile on his face as he looked over the packages they brought. "I think it's all this talk about Cylons and them showing me up that's got me a little ahead of things in my mind that I'm missing words here and there. But right now we need to take a moment and focus. We've got these party favors, a raptor, balls of steel, and a pack of bubblegum. What you think'n?"


Raptor 212, Meleager Interior, Galactica and Meleager Near-Space, Meleager Interior

Mast looks at Thompson. "What I am thinking, Tick-Tock, is that gleam of mischief in your eyes indicates you would like to figure out how to get our 'party favors' fused and then deliver them with this Raptor. I say that you should probably go out and get with the CO of this ship and get her arming codes so we can get these things prepped just in case. And I still think you're a little too paranoid, and I'm slightly worried about you with your headaches and such earlier today, but I really think we need to see if we can get these weapons either to a ship that can launch them or in at least in the appropriate Weapons Condition." She smiles at him just as the radio crackles.

"ALL PERSONNEL, ALL PERSONNEL, STAND DOWN TO CONDITION TWO. SAY AGAIN, ALL PERSONNEL, ALL PERSONNEL, STAND DOWN TO CONDITION TWO. CYLON CONTACTS HAVE JUMPED AWAY. PREPARE FOR TRANSFER OPERATIONS WITH THE FLAGSHIP, GALACTICA. VICE PRESIDENTIAL RESCUE TEAM AND DECK CHIEF, PLEASE REPORT TO THE CIC FOR DEBRIEFING WHEN YOU HAVE TIME. SAY AGAIN, RESCUE TEAM AND DECK CHIEF, PLEASE REPORT TO THE CIC WHEN YOUR DUTIES ALLOW...THIS IS NOT AN IMMEDIATE PRIORITY, NOR DO YOU ALL HAVE TO REPORT AT ONCE." Through the Raptor's hull, Thompson could faintly hear Major Deering's voice announcing the same thing over the 1MC.

***

Goshan smiles--slightly dreamily, indicating she's still somewhat 'stoned'--at Fuller. "Aye-aye, Sir. And I don't think you should hand me anything dangerous like a firearm right now, No." She shakes her head. "While everything is one, sometimes things turn odd colors for a couple seconds, and I learned I had to adjust everything I see a few degrees to starboard walking to the Hangar or I walked into walls. So, No Weapons For Me." Goshan is quite cheerful about this...but, despite clearly being drugged-up, is still alert to everything going on in the Hangar. She smiles cheerfully--she is quite good looking, and now is 'cute'--at Fuller as she takes a step closer to him. "Sticking to you, Sir!"

Right then, throughout Meleager (from the Hangar to the Infirmary to the CIC), the 1MC rang out with Major Deering's voice. "ALL PERSONNEL, ALL PERSONNEL, STAND DOWN TO CONDITION TWO. SAY AGAIN, ALL PERSONNEL, ALL PERSONNEL, STAND DOWN TO CONDITION TWO. CYLON CONTACTS HAVE JUMPED AWAY. PREPARE FOR TRANSFER OPERATIONS WITH THE FLAGSHIP, GALACTICA. VICE PRESIDENTIAL RESCUE TEAM AND DECK CHIEF, PLEASE REPORT TO THE CIC FOR DEBRIEFING WHEN YOU HAVE TIME. SAY AGAIN, RESCUE TEAM AND DECK CHIEF, PLEASE REPORT TO THE CIC WHEN YOUR DUTIES ALLOW...THIS IS NOT AN IMMEDIATE PRIORITY, NOR DO YOU ALL HAVE TO REPORT IN A GROUP AT ONCE."

****

When Meleager had Jumped, her Navigation Officer (who was normally Captain Fenq's understudy; while a competent astrogator, he was not quite up to a No-Notice Hot Drop) had used the largest mass reading around as the basis for his Jump calculations. And he had masterfully made those calculations, dropping Meleager right at Major Deering's ordered five kilometers from the mass.

Problem was, the mass he used was Asteroid X-51, not Galactica.

Meleager flashed into existence from her Jump 1,203 meters away from the Resurrection Ship...although Meleager classed the Resurrection Ship as a 'Basestar' and responded...appropriately.

Meleager exploded into fire as she directed every single weapon--including her point-defense batteries--against the Resurrection Ship. The Resurrection Ship's Hybrid writhed in pain for nearly ninety seconds before successfully Jumping away, heavily damaged...right before Meleager managed to get a lock for her nuclear missiles. The 19 Vipers Meleager had launched to engage the massed Raiders had almost made contact with the Cylons when the Raiders, too, Jumpe away...much to the surprise of the Viper Pilots of both Galactica and Meleager.

Meleager came about and quickly headed over to take up a position three kilometers off of Galactica's port side (and her sole functional Flight Pod). Major Deering and Commander Adama began to confer over the wireless--immediately after Deering had personally announced the Stand-Down--about transferring critical supplies and personnel to Galactica.

****

As the shuttle--containing the last of the Marines and three very traumatized teenage girls--finished coming down the Lift and arrived at the Hangar, the food began arriving onboard heavily-laden trays pushed by struggling yeoman. Previously-detailed personnel split off in ones and twos from the various Sections to help set everything up in an accessible but not-in-the-way location...which, ironically, ended up being by Raptor 212 (just outside its Access Control Perimeter).

***

Corporal Clarence and Red Team lead Stryker to Marine Country, and Clarence leads him into the Squad Bay. "Go ahead and grab your preferred load-out, Lieutenant.
Legate71, go ahead an look over the spare equipment lists in the Marine Thread of the Background Section; submit a request to me--either OOC or IC with OOC text--but everything should be good. (My preference is IC, by the way.) Any questions I will happily field OOC; specific stats can be found in the 'Ares Guide to Infantry Weapons in the Colonies' under Links in the Background Section. IC will be addressed to Corporal Clarence (since she had the keys to the equipment lockers at the moment).
If we have it, it's yours...besides the 'Cylon-Slayer'."

***

Crane looks at Meas with an odd expression and shakes her head when he's done speaking. "Must be something in the air at universities combined with being a civilian of means." She goes back for seconds, almost a third of which is dessert. She raises an eye at Doctor Meas. "Would you like a slice of the chocolate-fudge-mint-peanut butter pies? It's a specialty of one of our cooks, who scuttlebutt says was an Admiral's chef before something got him 'exiled' to Meleager." She shrugs. "Anyway, they are amazing. Best mixed-chocolate-and-other-flavors dessert I have ever had. Want a slice while I'm over here?"



Dr. Jared Meas

Jared didn't reply, simple because he couldn't/felt no point in continue the discussion. As she speaks to him again he manage to give her a somewhat joyful smile, "Thanks, but no thanks. All this" the doctor discreetly gesture towards himself "doesn't come without any sacrifices you know." he gave her an intriguing look making it hard to tell if he was actually sincere or making fun of the sensation of hubris that he brought with him.

2nd Lt. Stryker



"Thank you, Corp." Stryker looks at the various equipment lockers and starts mentally kitting himself out. "But, umm..." Holding up his left arm..."Could you first find me a hand cuff key? Just so I can check my luggage into this fine establishment." He adds with a bit of a smile.





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