The Stone-Cold Pros
The Stone-Cold Pros
Summary: The Genesis Tac Officer and XO discuss impending combat operations. While everyone else mourns, they are in their element.
Date: 3 ACH
Related Logs: None.

CIC Genesis - Deck 11
3 ACH 3735 Souls

The Combat Information Center is the tactical heart of the Genesis. This CIC is designed in a triangular formation, with one point pointing directly forward, while the other two point port and starboard. The forward point of the CIC triangle is where the tactical consoles are set up. Dead center, a large, clear display panel is suspended from the ceiling, green gridlines showing a map of nearby space. Under this, a large table is set, providing more tactical displays, a wireless handset, and a large, DRADIS console.
Both port and starboard other watch stations are set, in two rows of tiers like stadium seating, one above the other. Each station has a purpose - helm, weapons control, communications, navigation, damage control, and further tactical monitoring. More displays and banks of computer monitors line the walls.

-----< Condition Two - Duty Area >----——
Contents: Fotilas Kist CIC Terminal 1117

Exits: [A] Corridor

Fotilas steps into the CIC, a man on a mission. While some of the CIC crew look ashen and stricken - some even still trying to stave off tears - Fots is a stone. He heads directly to the plotting table and pulls out a series of charts, unrolling them into a heap. "Kist," he nods, without even looking up. Likely she's already moving over. "We have a lot to discuss so let's skip the bullshit and get down to brass tacks." A few crewmen look up who can hear but the Major pays them no attention. "What's on your mind?" he asks as he looks up to her. He's not looking for personal details at the moment. What's on her brain professionally?

Kist is a stone also, though an oddly bright one. The expression on her face isn't -exactly- looking forward to war, but there is a height of brightness in her eyes, readiness, that wasn't there before. This is what she was built to do. She expected it, silently…anyone with a mind had, truly. And after the information from Pandora… it was just a matter of time. Now, she is ready. She gives him a quick nods, "I think…" She considers, a faint, quiet chuckle touching her lips. "I think I am ready for orders, sir."

"Yeah, that makes two of us, Lieutenant," he offers by way of a joke. Its whispered, though. Very likely the rest of the members of CIC wouldn't be so amused. He takes a deep breath, wetting his lips and looking across the charts. "Alright Kist. Let's start simple for the moment. Short term to long term." He cracks his neck and leans forward onto the table with a grease pencil between his fingers. "We've got ammunition stores at these locations." He begins circling a series of locations, some which don't even look likely. "What I need you to do first of all is dig into the databases and figure out what is at these locations.. or what /was/. We've got stockpiles of ammunition loaded down in the lockers off the flight deck from what I'm told, but we're going to need a lot more to shoot than what we have on board." He taps the pencil a few times. "I just got out of a meeting with Major Carter, the PAS Commander. He says that station has oodles of free space and I intend to fill it with shit we can throw at the toasters."

Kist nods, looking down at the console and bringing up a separate file for herself so she can take notes. She'd like to think she'll remember it all in her head, but she does not have THAT much hubris in her soul. She finishes jotting that bit down before turning her strong eyes back to him, smile and chuckles gone. She's all business now. "Alright. So we need to not only figure out what is in the stockpiles, but get to them and conduct transfers….Preferably without being noticed, right?"

"Exactly. We need to know how secure these locations are and we should assume each one has already been hit by Cylons or is being guarded by them." There's a long breath, the man tapping the pencil a few more times as he looks over the locations he circled. He remembers one more and circles it. "..without being noticed. That's the key." A sly grin crosses him and he looks up to Kist. He knows something. "Just worry about which locations are the most likely to hold cylon activity. Don't worry about getting there. I think we have that covered." His eyes drop again to the chart. "Next, we're going to need supplies. We've got lots of stockpiles of food and all that, but find out what our consumption rates are going to be versus what we already have. We'll need to know how soon we need to begin looking for food."

Kist nods quietly, reaching out already and beginning to pull up a few charts as she punches in numbers. "Well… rationing should start. Now. It'll be a bit hard, but it is survival. We cannot afford to be fatted pigs any longer, living a lifestyle of peace." Julia states quietly, sternly, as she considers exactly how many people are in the fleet. "I need to look over what we have. With nothing coming in… it could get slim. Fast."

"No arguments. Good thinking on the rationing, too, Lieutenant." His eyes lift to her with a quick nod. Tactical Approval: Something every officer in CIC wants. "I'll make the recommendation to the Colonel with your name on it. But we'll need hard numbers. If you need to, get with Captain Zaharis and find out exactly what we need as far as intake and what we can survive off of. If we have to eat hot noodles with vitamin supplements, I don't care. Just find out what he thinks. Then start looking around these charts. We can forget Aerelon, too. Ten days from now, the whole planet will be a blanket of radiation, so we can't expect any more grains." Bah, who needs bread, right? The man then rises a touch to flip the circled ammunition chart onto the floor. Peters swings by to roll it up and put it back. "Next item: Gas. We're going to need a replenishable Tyllium source. We have a refinery freighter in the fleet, so processing isn't an issue but we need the Ore. If I recall, the Tauron's got into a heap of trouble for trying to mine it up near the Arm Line some years back. Check into that and other known sources… and even likely sources. If you have to talk to some of the planetary boys and girls from PAS, I'll get you a pass to move between there and here."

Kist makes a few more notes, nodding quickly to each of his questions. "I… will assume that the same… secret method of getting into stock piles we can perhaps use to go for Tyllium, if I can figure out where they were trying to mine. If we find that… it might be worth going as soon as possible. Get some weapons, then get the tyllium… then go back for more weapons. We won't do anything without power." Kist continues to recommend, her mind flying a mile a minute.

"Well the problem isn't that if we use a cattle prod with enough voltage, we can unload an anchorage stockpile in an afternoon and evening. Chief Taylor and the Marines could get in on it and get it done. What's not so easy is the Tyllium. We would have to stay on station for quite some time in order to mine the ore. Now, that may not even be a problem." He looks up to her, absently shaking the grease pencil at her. "Find out what our Tyllium reserves on the processing ship look like, too. If we have six months or six years, we'll need to know ASAP." Fotilas looks back to the charts, leaning forward on his elbows. "Logistics.. logistics.. what else are we missing? Food… Gas… Ammo… What else does a fleet eat, Kist?"

Kist looks down to her console, not meeting his eyes, though he can practically read the gears in her brain turning. She takes a sip of her coffee, the usual CiC shite, she isn't picky about it, and finally murmurs. "Gas, ammo… Water." She frowns, considering that deeply, "Maybe easy to get… but if we run out of that… it'll kill us faster than anything."

"We're good for water. At least for a long time. We can tank off the other ships we've got and still process what they send us for waste." Not the most pleasant of topics, but its warrants discussion. "Still, not a bad consideration. It might do us well to map out our options…" Fots trails off as he reaches for a chart. "Yeah. We've got one known source." The pencil is tapped lightly against it. "Assume its tagged by Cylons. But again - something else to talk to the planetary people on PAS about if you don't find anything." He takes a long breath and looks around the room from his position, still leaned over the plotting table. Gears are turning there as well.

Kist breathes slowly through her nose, marking that on her list, but rather lower down. She leans against her stool, usually on her feet but sometimes she does actually lean when working. She slightly leans now, lost in thought…"Water and air can be processed. We've discussed fuel…food… though spare parts will also be needed. Especially if we're going into attack. Should talk to the Chief and see what… what is most delicate. What we might lose the most of the quickest."

"I imagine the Chief will tell you ammunition and spare parts for Vipers. Which.. is a consideration." He's thoughtful for a moment as his eyes scan over communications and navigation personnel. "People. These operations are going to eat people." His eyes fall back onto her. "Lieutenant, please come with me." The man straightens and grabs a couple of pens. He rolls up a few charts on the table as well and grabs a planetary reference guide. It's a lot. "Kist, please bring pens, and our reference for tactical allocations." He rights himself and heads for the door. "Captain McConnough, you have the Conn," the XO calls as he reaches the hatch.

Kist frowns a moment as he mentions people. "They are. We… we should start training up the civilians that are left… make certain everyone can fight, when the time comes." Kist says that rather quieter than before, not wishing anyone else to hear. She then nods curtly at him and stands from her seat, scooping up the pens, clip board and the reference material. She follows him straight out the hatch.

Ward Room Genesis - Deck 11
4 ACH 6735 Souls

The Ward room is used for meetings. Carpeting covers the floor in a muted gray/blue color. Colonial flags line along one wall, representing all the colonies. A sideboard for refreshments is along one wall and a large conference table sits in the center with a dozen, comfortable chairs around it.
-----< Condition Two - Duty Area >----——
Contents: Fotilas Kist Wireless 1249 — OFF

Exits: [O] Corridor

Fots leads them down to the Ward Room, the man moving at a brisk pace with all his material clutched under an arm. He holds the door for her as the move in, the man turning and latching it closed and locked. The XO moves to the table and dumps his stuff out. "Aircraft parts and people," is all he says for a moment. The man looks to Kist and cracks his neck. "I don't like planning things in CIC. Especially what I want to do. No reason for everyone else to know." He clears his throat and moves to the leftover coffee from the meeting earlier. Pouring a mug, Fots glances over his shoulder. "Want one?"

Kist looks up to the coffee and nods immediately, taking in a deep breath to see if it's his special blend or the usual ship stuff. "Thanks." She gives him a half smile, settling down into one of the chairs and laying the maps out before them before setting up her own pencil and paper station. Ready to work.

Its the usual Navy crap they pass off as coffee. Fots has already taken the idea of 'rationing' to heart. He passes her the mug and follows her to the table, but doesn't sit. "Excuse me if I don't sit. I think on my feet." The Major takes a sip of the coffee and looks to Kist. "Lieutenant, I want to throw together a plan on the double-quick that we can present to Colonel Regas. Something do-able and executable very quick with what we have available." He clears his throat. "I want to get back to the Colonies, grab as many survivors as we can, and pick up spare parts we might be needing. Keep in mind our time-table and radiation. It'll kill almost everyone on that planet inside a week."

Kist nods immediately, considering that. "Alright, well… do we have any positioning for the cylons at all. Know where they might be monitoring us from? If we can use the 'dark side' of the planets, that would help. But really, go in… do fast scans, get out. Go back, do drops, grab what we can, get out. Do it again. Start with the closest colonies then work inwards, that way if we get caught mid project we've saved the most people and wasted the least resources."

"Negative. No positioning. At least not yet. I'm going to talk to Regas about recon Raptors tomorrow. But I don't think we'll have time for hitting all the planets. Mounting an operation like this? Even more than one could get dangerous. But you're right." He spreads out a map of the system. "We shouldn't run too far in. Recon can tell us what we are looking at for placement with the Cylon's. We may have to base our operations around that.. Or maybe not." He taps the pencil against the plot. "What kind of manpower do you think we'll need on an operation like this? Best guess.."

Kist nods considering…"We'll have to look at what the colonies have to offer in people and supplies, and pick which ever is closest that might give us the biggest hit. Impersonal way of doing it, but… what needs to be done." Kist then looks down, frowning thoughtfully as she runs through some numbers in her head. "Hopefully? A few raptors. Something small and quick, in and out, that you fill up to the brim and move out as fast as possible."

"We also have the Phantasm." Fots absently taps the pencil a few more times. "We can use that for people. But we won't be able to grab very many." He looks back to Kist. "What do you think about trying to take an air base?" His brow quirks. "Too costly? Too risky?"

Kist considers…"I think we could strip an air base. Same as stripping people or food from a planet. In and out fast. Make certain we know what we're getting, where it's stationed, get all the info and go. We could not take it. Just like the PAS… it would make us stationary, leave us open to attack. We will eventually have to give it up, and trying to hold it thins our resources too much."

"Correct assessment, Lieutenant. But I have no intention of trying to hold off a Cylon fleet so we can get our giggles by holding on to an air base. They'd just nuke us from orbit and call it done." Fots paces around the table. "The Cylons would have hit every major city and military installation on all of the Colonies." A hand rises to rub the stubble on his face. "Okay, so we're looking for an auxiliary airfield. Closer to the poles of the colony.. Probably someplace like Picon. Maybe a training base. Or storage facility. The Fleet would have /had/ to have seen this coming in certain respects. There's got to be stockpiles someplace."

Kist nods quietly, "Picon is… probably a wise idea, if we can get there. People will be trained. Just by the numbers game, there might be the most left supplies for the military. It might also be the hardest hit and everyone might be dead. That's why we need to pop in and out on a quick recon. Raptor jumps in… gets all the information possible while spooling up again, jumps out."

There's a slow nod from him. "Very good point. What little we know has Picon one of the hardest hit. Which means our chances of finding anyone there are low." A low sigh escapes him. "Maybe Tauron? We know Taurons have always been a bit on the troublesome side. We might have a good chance of finding stockpiles there… But we can't risk too many jumps back there to find out or the whole operation is blown." The XO finally stops pacing and looks to her. "What do you think? Is it worth it? What we could lose versus what we could gain?"

Kist doesn't really hesitate, her coffee even abandoned, as she looks up to him, "Sadly, that's why you send one or two Raptors only to do the recon missions. It might be a suicide mission, yes, but then we only lose a few people and a bird or two. It's worth doing that, absolutely. The gain is necessary because, without those things, we will die. Slower, but we will die."

"Kist," he begins and heaves another long breath. "Look. Don't worry about dying. We're all on borrowed time. Realistically, we're looking to wage a guerrilla war on a far superior force. Don't expect to see this war to the end." He moves to sit down at the table and finally move for his own coffee. "We may die tomorrow. Next week. Two years. But what we're trying to do is kill as many of these frakkers as we can before they finally trap us someplace. All we can do is hit and run and keep us alive as long as possible." He takes a sip of the coffee and leans onto the table. "But as far as these supplies are concerned? We're looking for warfighting ability. We can't expect to find salvation back on the Colonies. Though I believe you are right about the risk benefit. I hate to make it a numbers game, but that's where we're at."

Kist nods curtly, "That's the question you asked me, sir, risk benefits. That's the answer i gave. We won't be able to fight back as long without food, fuel, or ammo." She actually seems pretty emotionless about this all. She's prepared for war all of her life. she knew she might die all of her life. This just means she's finally getting to do her job, or at least that is the expression on her face. She's simply ready to work.

Fotilas shakes his head. "We won't find much of use back on the Colonies. Food, fuel, ammo? The first two, for sure, are going to have to come from outside our homes. Its a fair bet that the Cylons have captured our storage and refinery facilities and have put them into production for.. themselves.." Fots brow rises and he looks to her. "Logistics, Kist." Another smile crosses him. "A fleet needs Tyllium. All those processing facilities we have left on the Colonies?"

Kist considers that, swearing faintly, and she nods. "Sorry. I have not much slept since this happened. That… might indeed be our wisest hit. Though dangerous. They'll be expecting it and… heavily guarded, no doubt. But that also can be reconned, hopefully. Really, right now, we need more real information to work with instead of just guesses." She reaches over, scooping up her coffee and taking another gulp.

"True. A lot is conjecture, but lets look at the facts.." Fots puts down the mug and steeples his fingers, elbows leaned on the table. "Cylons don't eat. Therefore food production for them isn't a problem. They're machines. But they need power. Right? Just like we do. We have more concerns which.. may be our strength in unpredictability. The Cylons need? Power. That's it. Tyllium is the best source in the Galaxy. And the best part? Its so volatile, it doesn't matter. Hell, we could probably jump the Genesis into orbit and shell the frakkin' sites from a thousand miles up! No reason to risk Vipers in the low altitude work. If we can take out refineries faster than they can rebuild, they're dead in the water. Sure, we can take apart their fleet piecemeal, but we could also take it down with a significantly smaller risk to ourselves this way.. See what I'm saying?" She has a point about intelligence, but he's just trying to pick her brain on possibilities. Definitely an 'ideas' guy.

Kist nods simply, "It's true, sir, and they are your orders to give. But it is a wise idea, it might just be an immensely risky one. And taking the Genesis in… I think that is unwise. The Genesis is really our largest asset. She gets taken out and we've lost the war then and there. Maybe the Phantasm. A bit more power and kick without risking a large resource. Or if we can get the Pandora up and running, she was made for the heavy combat."

"Oh Hades, Kist.. I'm not looking to issue orders on this for now. More to pick your brain about ways to approach this." The man offers her a quick smile before sipping at his coffee. "But you've got a point. The Genie is a lot to risk. As for the Pandora?" He tilts his head. "She's actually ready for combat. Captain Zimmermann down in Engineering worked wonders on it. The problem is that she is.. geez.. at I think about fifteen percent of needed staffing? We could run her in there, but if we lost the boat, we'd still be losing a lot of our own people." He leans back in the chair. "Interesting…" There's a deep sigh coming from deep in the man's soul as if he's finally arrived someplace. "I'm going to get permission to proceed with planning two operations. First will be the rescue/recovery operation. The second will be a campaign associated with taking out their Tyllium sources." He taps his fingers against the table a few moments before looking back to the woman. "First forty-eight hours, Lieutenant. What are we missing? Other than gobs of intelligence - which will be forthcoming."

Kist looks down at her note pad, considering quietly, a frown on her lips…"This might be a bit… personal of me, but… we're missing counselors. We need to mine… any… and every psychologist in the fleet. Grief counselors. Chaplains. Our current people…. they aren't all going to be well. We need to get THEM up and working, and fast. I don't want anyone going on a suicide mission to accomplish that goal and nothing else."

The XO nods a few times. "Excellent thoughts. But I'm already looking into it. As for suicide missions?" The man shrugs. "Things are going to get bad, Julia. People will want to do it and no amount of counseling is going to help." The XO is quiet for a moment. "But you have your orders. I'll get us permission, recon and intelligence. Got everything else that you need to do?"

Kist nods curtly, "Yes, sir. Thank you." She gives him a quick salute, waiting for dismissal.

The man rises and snaps a salute to her before looking to the spread in front of them. "Leave this stuff. I'm going to be in here for a few hours. If you have any questions, hunt me down here… and get me the results of your surveys as soon as possible." His eyes rise to her. "You're dismissed. Good hunting, Lieutenant."

Kist gives him another nod and turns upon the ball of her foot, exiting the room smoothly.

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