Multitasking Experiment
Multitasking Experiment
Summary: Orion and Addie fly combat air patrol. Orion gets a callsign and vents.
Date: 55 ACH
Related Logs: None

[Genesis Intercom] Now hear this: Ensign Orion Scala report to the Hangar Bay. Ensign Orion Scala to the Hangar Bay. Pass the word.

Captain Nikos stands on the Hangar Deck awaiting the subject of her earlier page to muster his ass out of bed or prayer to dress and hit the stairs to join her in flight attire. She talks quietly with a deck technician, then sends them scurrying on their way with some notes on a clipboard.

Orion actually shows up: And sober! He's in a flight suit, with his helmet lugged under his right arm. When he spots the captain on deck, he can't help but sigh to himself. Time to face the music. He walks right up, "Sir." One word, but his tone says a lot. It's a little too crisp to be believed, especially considering his southern drawl.

Showing up and sober: two high points to the start of an assignment post brig time! Addie's expression doesn't change as she tugs on her gloves in ritual fashion. "Ensign." She nods to a prepped viper, ready to be towed to the tubes. "Mount up." She turns to head for hers. "Be sure to check the seals and coms before you close up in there."

Orion even salutes! Well, it's not really outdoors, here, but it's somewhat close. He's not making any attempt to hide the fact that he's absolutely playing this by the book for the moment, even using the pages which are normally not read by anyone, including superiors. He heads towards the indicated viper like he has a stick up his ass the size of an oceanliner. It probably seems for show.

Pre-flight checks aren't complicated affairs when the Deck Crew here is as on the ball as they are. Addie does a brief coms test after she's situated in her cockpit, all suited up and strapped in. "Green. Somebody give me a tow. You copy my signal, Orion?" She doesn't wait for an affirmative, but swaps over to tac as her bird is towed to the tubes. "Genesis, this is Viper 211. Fender and Orion request permission to launch for standard CAP."

Orion goes through the routine as well. He's had enough times in the cockpit for real to go through it nearly by route, already. "Viper 816. Preflight is a-go and I'm in the pipe. Standing by on flight lead's mark."

[Genesis CIC]: 211, 816, you are go for launch. Good hunting.

"Genesis, 211 Fender. Copy." Addie flips the switch, and notes via comms, "816, see you out there." Aaaand launch! 211 shoots free of the tubes with the usual barrel roll, and as soon as the mark VII has put a little distance between itself ad the battlestar, Addie puts the throttle down. Fuel shortage? Pfft.

"Fender, 816. Copy. Genesis, I am ready for launch." Orion flicks a switch on his console and is ejected quite violently out the hangar. Unlike Addie, there is no barrel roll. It's enough to just have a smooth takeoff… he doesn't go for any flourishes. Not yet, anyway, "Shadow lead, Shadow two. I am clear." He throttles down and engages afterburners to keep up with you. No way in hell will he let himself look bad in front of you after his last performance. He forms up on your wing, "At your seven, Shadow lead."

"How do you feel about speeding, 816?" Addie shakes her head slightly as she speaks over the comms, though it's not obviously visible even from a wing position. That name just isn't working. The new guy needs a callsign. He's a number until she comes up with something better. "Feeling bright and sober?" There's just a slight tinny quality to Addie's voice as the comms work their magic and transport it to Orion's ears.

"Bright eyed and bushytailed, sir!" The response is almost sarcastic enthusiasm, but some of that is likely to be dampened by the comms, as well. Regardless, he is overcompensating something fierce. "Speeding is fine." His voice can't help but transmit a little bit of worry. The faster one goes, the harder it is to maintain formation, naturally.

That is, of course, the point. "Fender will do when we're in the cockpit, 816." 211 keeps the pressure on, angling out from the fleet with a little maneuver that might have Orion scrambling to pop back into tight formation. "We'll take a wide loop. Eyes on. DRADIS is a great cool, but don't forget to look for yourself. You see anything remotely off, you sound off about it."

<Trait Roll> Orion rolls Pilot_viper and achieves a degree of Great (5).

Orion does not miss a beat and stays on you like glue. He may as well be stuck to you like a toddler's hanging mobile toy. "Copy, Fender. Peepers peeled, I am situationally aware." Sure. In theory. Lots of people think they're paying attention to SA. Regardless, he's nervous.

It's just that little shot of nervousness that might keep his eyes on target during this CAP. Addie doesn't sound concerned, nor is she riding him about his flying. The fact that he managed to hang on just then probably has something to do with it. "Any interesting conversations in the brig?" Since they're out here alone, without a lot of cross coms traffic, she loosens up on the protocol a little bit. 211 takes a lazy path through the black headed for the perimeter of the CAP, and the throttle is eased back a little for less burn.

Orion maintains formation, following fluidly. His newness to active duty is overshadowed by something. He's certainly flying a lot smoother than during the CAP over the Hera. Maybe it's experience. Could be courage. Possibly sheer terror. Regardless. "Oh, uh… yeah. Jailbird stopped by to tell me he's a superior officer."

Addie's chuckle is audible over comms, and yet she keeps most of what she's thinking riiight to herself. It's the officerly thing to do. "Jailhouse must be missing his home away from home. Did he tell you where he stashed his smokes?"

Orion doesn't answer that question. Instead he asks a different one, himself, "Would you brig me if I tried knocking the shit out of him?" Such a blunt question. Bizarre fellow. One can almost hear him spit.

"Take it to the ring. There's a gym with all the gear you need for a friendly sparring session." The Captain's response is somewhat vague, but the overall answer seems to be no. "Don't seriously injure reach other or my boot will be lodged so far up your ass, you'll taste what I stepped in last year."

Orion chuckles, loosening up somewhat, "No. I don't reckon he'd share that sort of information with anyone, Fender. Confidential, for his lips only information. Besides." He rolls slightly closer to your strike craft, then eases up on the throttle a bit, "I don't smoke. Why?"

"You swap paint with me, you'll be the talk of the wing," Addie comments casually as Orion lines up a little closer, just to give him a thrill. "I meant his metaphorical smokes in the Brig." Metaphorical smokes? "Used to spend a bit of time in there. Take his advice at face value, disregard the asshole. Jailhouse is what I like to call a bit tempestuous."

"He suggested I not let you catch me drinking on duty, sir." He switches to sir again, but only because the context makes it more amusing, "Good advice. I didn't want to say anything to you while I was in the brig, but.. I ain't exactly thrilled about what I done. Didn't want to, neither… that op was my first. Hell of a first run, and I had the whiskey on me for my first CAP. Didn't think I'd want to abuse it."

"That would be a good piece of advice, Flask. Better advice would be don't drink on duty. Anyone catches you, your ass is swingin' in the breeze." Thusly dubbed. He had to bring up drinking. The Captain gives it an easy turn to pull a roll over Orion's bird. She comes really, really close. That is not textbook. Quit it.

Orion/CALLSIGN - Set.
<Trait Roll> Orion rolls Pilot_viper and achieves a degree of Poor (1).
<Trait Roll> Addie rolls Pilot_viper and achieves a degree of Good (4).

"Respectfully request you leave my doggone ass alone, Fender." Orion sounds uneasy about his casualness, as if it may be some sort of trap! There's silence over the radio when you fly so close to him. Worried about a crash, he swings low, jams the throttle back… 'drifting' is not the word one would use to what this has done to formation. 'utterly slaughtered' is the phrase of the day. there is no formation, now. He hits the afterburners to wordlessly catch up to you.

"Noted and taken under consideration," is the Captain's reply. "Action is unlikely, just checking for signs of life." 211 eases down a bit, and re-establishes a more stable position to allow Orion to lock into formation.

Orion loops around and settles to your back left, "Fender, 8…." He reconsiders and, apparently, has caught on quick enough, "Fender, Flask. On your seven. DRADIS is clean, we're looking good." The rookie re-establishes formation with you, "I'm in the cockpit. Ain't gonna be more alive, otherwise. Cag told me eight days in the wing without doin' something frakkin' stupid was some sort of record. Was she shitting me?"

Fender settles down into a pretty smooth flight, and it's uneventful (for a bit) at least. "I wish she was. Makes you feel any better, half the time it's a marine." She sits back in her seat and taes a moment to appreciate the beauty of the ride. "You shore it up after this one, you'll be ok, Flask."

"Really ain't what I wanted to do." admits Flask. "Frakked up on a deuss con? That's what I'm frakking here for. Cag asked me why she should keep me in her squad. Know what I told her?" He drifts behind you with no trouble at all.

"I do not, but I've got it on good authority you're gonna tell me." Fender glances out to eye the other viper, and the pilot in 816's cockpit. She regards him for a moment. "Lay it out for me, Flask."

The statement illicits a chuckle from Flask before he even utters it, "Told her.." He has to stop for the chuckling, "Told her I'd moved on to safer vices that weren't gonna get me brigged." His craft drifts a little, but it doesn't look like a course correction so much as a bit of experimentalism, the Viper II strafing to one side while still travelling in the correct direction.

"Can't beat that reply, Flask." Fender shakes her head slightly and checks her readout. DRADIS still looks clear, but she gives the field a sweep with her eyes anyway, taking the long way around. "While we're out of view of the rest of the fleet, feel free to let your hair down a little. Just don't do anything embarrassing."

"Hey, you know me." responds the rookie pilot in protest as his craft swings around, steady on your wing once again.

With a glance from her cockpit to Flask's, Fender grins. "Flask, Fender. Switch your guns to training mode, be sure the safeties are on." So much for a traditional CAP. "Let's have a little look under the hood."

"Oooh, this is my punishment, Fender?" Flask laughs a few times, "Yeah, okay. Let's see what I got, aah… Fender, Flash. Weapons are confirmed cold, target lasers up. Just like at the academy, eh?" His craft increases speed so it's no longer behind and to your side, but directly next to yours. He 'assumes the position', banking his ship 90 degrees so the belly faces your ship, "You know, there's got to be a story behind that callsign."

"Keep one eye on DRADIS at all times. This is what I like to call a little multi tasking experiment." Viper 211 pulls away from the wing formation with a sudden slow, then pulls a sharp flip of the viper. She accelerates again, coming around hot. She really pulls some maneuvers a little harder than may be necessary. Strictly speaking.

<COMBAT> Addie aims at Orion.
<COMBAT> Orion aims at Addie.
<COMBAT> Orion changes stance to Cower.

"Affirmative, Fender." Everything until now has been a mixture of standard flight and new(ish) experiences. But this? No. Orion did this at flight school for far too long. The routine is rote and he is suddenly a lot more at home, "Right side is ready. Break in three, two, one. Break!" His viper turns sharply, breaking away from yours and heading in a different direction before it starts to loop around again. The pilot glances at his DRADIS for good measure, then looks around his cockpit, making sure he can see you as he brings the ship over for a pass. You can hear breathing over the radio.

<COMBAT> Orion attacks Addie with Viper and hits! (MODERATE DAMAGE to Tail)
<COMBAT> Addie attacks Orion with Viper and hits! (MODERATE DAMAGE to Guns)
<COMBAT> Orion changes stance to Normal.

211's dogfighting style has a little attitude. That is to say she flies a little more loosely than some other pilots, with an emphasis on risk. It might start to explain the callsign a bit. "Fenders are meant to be used," is her simple statement, slightly belated, regarding the story behind her callsign. It's really something you'd just have to see. "Going for my six, Flask? That happens more than I'd like…"

Flask seems less risk adverse than he is simply acknowledging the fact that his opponent is formidable. He swings around wide, jinking and weaving, and is still surprised when (virtual) rounds streak about his cockpit, "Frak. I didn't even…" Damage registers to his guns, and he swings hard to one side, pushing a considerable number of negative g forces. The other pilot is a little tense on the stick, but not so bad. His style isn't attitude so much as altitude. He's big on trying to abuse his airspace, and ends up on your tail as payback for your deflection shots, "I'm afraid military fraternization rules prohibit me from responding, sir." Har har.

<COMBAT> Orion attacks Addie with Viper and hits! (MODERATE DAMAGE to LeftWing)
<COMBAT> Addie attacks Orion with Viper and hits! (SERIOUS* DAMAGE to Body) !!KO!!

Orion continues to fog up your tail, and manages a few parting shots to your left wing before completely and utterly losing you. The pilot glances around his cockpit, inverts the craft, and does a split S before looking back to his DRADIS… no contact, and… and his opponent is already on top of him. He cringes, shrieks into the radio out of a mixture of amusement and irritation, and breaks very, very hard, desperate to get out of this situation. He's pulling enough Gs that the breathing is getting a little raspy.

It must be something about that comment that prompts a grin from Fender. It's obvious in her voice as she replies, "Chicken shit." Pulling it around she squints a little, watching Orion's maneuvers, her eyes drop briefly to DRADIS before she turns her attention back to the bird in her sights. Her hand is easy on the stick, then her viper drops to the right, rolling left over right. There's a moment when she's in a blind spot, but it wont last long. She pulls off a quick shot to the body of the other viper, but then both hands return to the stick and she pulls it up, back into view of 816.

A steady tone echoes throughout Flask's cockpit. If Addie could see his face, she'd see him briefly panic: You're not supposed to lose these dogfights. Usually the other pilot is holding back, or in a vastly inferior craft. The ships are equal, but was she holding back? Did he just brand himself an enormous liability? His laughter over the radio is twinged with friction and tension, "I lost you out there… and call me chickenshit all you want, sir. Cag just threatened to tear my frakkin wings off, but I gotta say I got hit dead to rights, there. Where did I go wrong?"

Addie drops into a wing position on Orion's seven for a moment, taking a look at his ship. She spins on past then. "Flip your training off, safeties still on, resume my wing position, Flask." She checks her readout and lines back up into position to resume CAP. Lalala no one stopped for a dogfight here. "Were you thinking about all of that while you were flying? Don't worry about your past, because you can't change it. Just fly. Don't think. Get in the cockpit and 86 the nerves."

Shit Shit Shit Shit She WAS holding back oh my gods. "W… weapons hot and corked, Fender." He reaches up to flick a few switches, then pulls the throttle back to generate thrust, and falls into place at your side, "Forming up on your wing. Bingo nerves, sir. I'll do better next time." The radio's silent after that, at least for a little while.

Fender lets the silence persist for a while. Sometimes the best way to level out those nerves is a little smooth, uneventful stick time. She's 10 years in, but you never forget some things. At last, she says, "You will do better next time. Training is over, Flask. You really don't have a choice. Which, when you think about it, is the best motivation there is. There is no fall back plan."

The response comes a few seconds too late to be casual. There's an awkward hush until he does respond with just two words, "Yes, sir." His formation is just about as razor sharp as he can muster and for the moment, he's simply not speaking until he's spoken to. He does finally quip, "We had a saying back at the academy when we were doin' quals… carrier landings, 'specially. You're only as good as your last landing."

"I have to tell you, nobody's a rook around here for long." Fender glances over to survey the fleet visually as it comes back into easy visual range. Her eyes are on the Genesis as she notes, "You don't have to be the best. You just have to be good enough to do your job. Everything else is just icing." Captain Nikos' pep talks aren't like other pep talks. Maybe that wasn't a pep talk. Was that a pep talk? Oh geez.

"We just gotta keep the fleet safe and let Ares get some work done. There's the assaultstar, Genesis, and us. And thats all." quiet acknowledgement. "You think we got a chance of really turning this thing around, or is this a spite fight? I don't mind a spite fight one bit."

"You either fight or you give up, Flask." Fender replies over comms. She checks DRADIS again, and makes a small adjustment with the stick. "You fight like hell. I don't do well with giving up." It's not really an answer, but she does sound sure. And committed.

"Yeah. I guess the answer to that question ain't really important, is it?" Flask is calming down, if the tone of his voice is anything to go by. He glances at DRADIS, then looks back up in time to realize he's suddenly a little off course from you, a fact he hastens to correct. "We're fixin to whup the canners' asses either way for what they did. They done blew up the Peach Pit, you know that? Best damned burger joint I ever did see. They didn't serve eel, neither."

"That's a crime against humanity," Fender replies dryly, at Flask's revelation regarding the burger joint. "It's impossible to find a good burger." She nods once, though the other pilot is unlikely to notice it from his position on her wing. "I'm a little hostile about this eel situation. That's what I love about the Air Wing. We usually get the first crack at 'em."

"Aaaaugh, Zeus save us. Fried eel. Eelcakes. Eelghetti. Eel ala King…" There's a pause regarding that one, and then the aside, "You know I right believe that particular King may have made a bad decision or two in his time on the throne. Ground eelburgers. Jammer just eats protein bars. Probably the smarter choice."

"Stop saying eel," Addie mutters, the words barely transmitting over the comms. "We're going hands on for the approach when we're finished with our rotation." She clears her throat and asks, "How are you settling into the Wing?"

Your eel-based comment illicits a chuckle over the radio, Orion's smirk probably impossible to see, but very easy to imagine. "They're a big pack of frakkin' assholes." His response is absolutely blunt, and absolutely casual in tone.

"Ah. I see you've met all the Ensigns," Fender chuckles, correcting course once again. "You'll fit in fine."

"Didn't know my rank was Ensign Junior Grade. Didn't even know that was a rank before I moved in here. The other ensigns sure do love to outrank me, though." Orion snickers, "They got some serious self confidence issues, and I reckon that some of 'em been ensigns so long they're hopin it means something good."

"It sounds to me like you've got a pretty good lay of the land, Flask." Fender glances over briefly, checking the formation. "You're the new guy. You know how it is. All eyes on you until you survive your first live engagement, and don't get anyone killed." She pauses, and does a flyby on the Genesis. "No pressure."

Flask grunts over the radio, streaking past the battlestar with his wingmate, "Naaw. None. At. All." The laughter is genuine, and a touch on the goofy side. It's a stress release valve. "Gold's a pack of wild dogs, I reckon. Recruiters make sure of that… they ain't in the practice of puttin quiet, introspective types in starfighters."

There's a laugh over the comms. "Gold gets the job done," Fender shakes her head, "The price is a little attitude. There's a line. We're good until someone crosses it. Meantime, all that fire gets directed in a beautifully effective way to the face of the enemy."

"Near as I can tell, we sure do. Don't think I ain't looking -forward- to facing some soon-to-be scraps of steaming metal garbage. Ares is a lot more like… normal folk." The rookie pilot gets a good laugh at that, "Imagine them staring at us Golds and thinking we got something wrong with our brains. Least I'm in the right squadron."

"Viper jocks. Gotta love them," Fender replies, the amusement obvious in her voice. Orion isn't your average rookie, at least not around here. Must be that down home personality he has. "You're not bad on the stick, Flask. You'll be good."

Flask all but chokes, balking, "I ain't? Computer says you done cut my ship into more parts than an assembly line." Regardless, the comment seems quite welcome. It's not like he's fishing for compliments, but the man -is- expecting low opinions of his performance right about now. "If I got hit like that at the academy they'd have given me a black mark the size of a cornfield."

"I didn't get a field promotion, Flask. My Captain's pins are the result of service." Fender gives the newbie a little glimpse of her history with just that. "This isn't the academy, son. And I'm not a flight instructor. Welcome to graduation."

"No, I wasn't… " Orion laughs a bit, "I thought you were holding back. Flight instructors used to do that. Only time I fought people at the academy who were goin full force, the were in really old ships. Just assumed you were watching to see what I'd do." A second of radio silence, "Shit. I don't feel half bad, then."

Addie doesn't confirm whether she was holding back at all or not. She just grins and keeps flying. "I'm always watching, Flask."

"I'll take that under consideration and wave 'Hi' on the next CAP I fly, Fender." Flask rockets through space, staying on your wing, "Mind if I ask you a personal question, Captain?"

The Captain is quiet for a moment as she settles back in her seat. "You're welcome to ask, Flask. Go ahead." Her eyes flick to the read outs, and she reaches over to give the nav screen a whack. It's always something with her viper.

Orion gives DRADIS a quick scan, then returns to the affairs of his cockpit and the radio, "Why'd you join? I mean, are you the next in some line of six generations of world class fighter aces I ain't never heard of like Novella seems to think she is?"

That brings a laugh to Addie's lips. The sound of it takes up tac for a long moment. "No." She shakes her head, though the other pilot can't see it. "I was raised in a family of marines. The pilots are the ones they never talk about with the neighbors."

Your laughter triggers some laughter on Orion's part, "So… sorta. I joined because it was the thing to do.. all the men in my family did service. Had an uncle who flew in the war, told me I had it in me when I was young. I figured, frak. Sign me up. Worked hard in school, did Picon, ended up here… is that -really- true 'bout her, by the by?" He elaborates, "Cav. I shortened her last name to Nova and you know you go to Hades just the same for lyin' as you do fer stealin', she blew a gasket for disrespecting her fighter pilot ancestors."

"I judge everyone on their own merits. I don't care who their fathers are. Unless Daddy's in the cockpit doing the flying, it's irrelevant." Captain Nikos apparently isn't going to entertain that question. "There's nothing better that we could be doing than this, right here, right now."

"Yeah. I done laughed my ass off at her." It's spoken with a tone that strongly implies he expects that his statement it a reiteration of what you just said to him. "She didn't appreciate that quite as much as I thought she might." And then silence again.

"People have their own ways of dealing with the stress of genocide, don't take that too seriously." Fender lets silence fall again, and swings around for another pass on the fleet. "Boundaries have become very important."

"Yeah. Figured it was something like that." Flask doesn't say too much after that, following alongside you as we make another pass. "Glad the waiting's over. Seven weeks of.. sitting on my ass, waiting for the paperwork to go through. Was supposed to have shore leave on the Carina for two weeks. Ended up being two months. Hell of a thing to do to a guy waiting for his first tour."

"Appreciate everything while you have it. Get the sleep you can. If you're into prayer, do it when it's a good time. Life in the hot seat is intense, and we're the first line of defense." Nikos begins the final pass of the fleet before the end of the CAP, which is convenient, because after a couple hours, flight suits gets sweaty. "How are your hands on landings?"

"Wing told me not to think like that. Said it'd get me iced quicker than shit does stink." Not in so many words, obviously. And he seems to be trying to take their advice, because your comments don't have too much affect on the tone of his voice. Landings, however, do. "Oh, uh…" Slight discomfort there, "Well, I ain't never failed one when I was tested. Ain't failed one here, neither, but…" And then the man confides, "They still scare the willies out of me. Small space, high speed, small margin for error."

Orion does have a way with words. Addie hms and flies past the Carina. She replies, "Every landing you do here will be hands on. It's a little more intense when you have raiders on your six. When we come around, you'll go in first, try not to bounce. Deck gets pissy if they have to pound out your dents." She swaps up to the professional voice to address the Battlestar. She requests permission to practice combat landings, and leaves it to Orion to go first. Natch, so she can study his approach. No pressure, rookie!

<Trait Roll> Orion rolls Pilot_viper and achieves a degree of Poor (1).

No pressure. No pressure. Orion nods, though surely you can't see that, "Yeah. Ain't screwed this up before. Ain't fixing to start now." His viper swings in with the gear down. His approach is.. one can see the stiffness. And I mean -real- stiffness. "CIC, Flask. Coming in for combat landing, bravo hangar." He was apparently not kidding when he said these sorts of landings make him nervous…but this? This is one of those 'You need to do it over again' landings… or would be if this were still the academy, which it isn't. A little too fast and with an angle at first not steep enough, and then too steep. The viper hits the deck with a shower of sparks. "Oof! Augh!" It almost flips OVER… it doesn't… but it comes close. The strike craft skids to one side, rotating a good 60 degrees, and finally comes to rest on the ground. The pilot is speechless.

<Trait Roll> Addie rolls Pilot_viper and achieves a degree of Good (4).

"Hades, Flask." Fender's mutter just catches on the comms. It's an impressive landing, if you're looking for 'oh frak' moments. The Captain comes in hot on the heels of 816, and her handing is quite a bit better controlled. Her thumb is OFF the transmit button for the laughing, so no one has to hear that except her. She'll get it together before the rookie calms down enough after his tow to the deck. It's funny as long as no serious damage was done. A moment later, she comes over the comms sounding stoic as ever, "Flask, Fender. Post flight check list, then hit the showers." Stern. Her voice is stern. The Deck crew is goign to be bitching for the next six hours at least.

"Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh gods." The comm is off, but if you look at Orion and can read lips, that's a very good translation. You'll hear him respond shakily, apparently trying to -sound- composed. He fails that, too. "Af.. affirmative, Fender. Post-flight and bed without supper." He shields his eyes.

After the tone of the response, Addie just nods to herself. No need to ride the rook, other than to say this, "Next time you come in that hot, wave off. Combat landing does not mean last one in buys the drinks." The com clicks off, and the Captain sits back for a tow.

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