Reminds Me of Gold Wing
Reminds Me of Gold Wing
Summary: Kalypso makes an impression on Orion.
Date: 54 ACH
Related Logs: None

Battlestar Genesis, Deck 11, Ready Room, 54 ACH

The Ready Room is for pilots to get their assignments for the daily CAP. Rows of seating line six deep and back to the wall. At the front of the room there is a whiteboard, star maps and a podium for the CAG or Squadron Leaders to address the room. The flags of the colonies stand along the starboard wall as well as plaques of recognition. One plaque stands above those who have lost their lives and reads:

Captain Ide 'Screamer' Kolis
May he rest in peace among the stars.
So Say We All.
'Star Screamers' - Fighting 58th

Orion is leaning back, casual-like in a front row chair, peering into a projection screen. The screen is showing playback from what appears to be a viper's guncam during some sort of military engagement versus Cylon raiders. There's no sound, as is normal for such things. Orion himself is watching with a mixture of detatchment and serious attention, if such a thing is possible. His eyes are right on the screen, but the pad of paper and the pen is on his lap, not in his hands. Instead, the man appears to absently be playing cat's cradle with his ten fingers and a poor, innocent length of string. He's in uniform and squinting at the screen.

Kalypso was just walking by, wandering through the ship to get her bearings. By now she knows the Hera inside and out, but the Genesis is a whole new map for the blonde pilot to get a feel for. It's the light of the projection screen flickering that catches her attention and draws the woman into the ready room. She's in uniform herself as she leans her shoulder in the doorway and stands there watching Orion from behind. One perfectly sculpted eyebrow lifts and without another word, she pushes off from her perch and saunters into the room… right to the front row. She plants herself in the seat next to Orion, arms crossing over her chest. All this empty space and she just comes in and sits down right next to him. "Pen and paper aren't doing you much good." Who asked the peanut gallery?

Orion is strikingly good at cat's cradle, as it stands. He's not looking at his fingers at all, and he's playing it like he's trying to rush through to 'end game', except cat's cradle doesn't really -have- an end game. He's apparently got a classic case of pilot's coordination. He turns towards you when you enter, "Oh… you got a flight comin' or goin'?" Afterall, people entering the ready room often means a flight briefing or debriefing is about to occur, and that would mean he's got to get out of the way. Clearly, that's not why you're here. "Yeah… I ain't even gonna try unless I just need to graph out what's happening. Not much for taking notes when I should be just plain fixing my eyeballs to the wall. Ain't met you yet. Got a name?"

The screen is showing a particularly viscious dogfight between a standard Combat Air Patrol of two vipers and a raptor and what seems to be four cylon raiders. It's not looking particularly well, with the raptor having two craft on its tail, one of which is lighting it up. Not the best omen… People die out here. No pressure!

Bemused, Kalypso follows the agile movements of your fingers. Eventually her two-toned eyes return to the screen to watch the footage and the smile melts back to neutrality. There's no waver in her expression though. Hard to judge what's going on in her head as she watches the Raptor being lit up by the raiders. "Neither," she answers. That is, he's free to sit here for a while yet. "Makes sense," her words have an almost aristocratic flow to them, "Ensign Kalypso Leto. Those Vipers should throttle back, drop behind the Raptor and the raiders on her tail." Pragmatic, this one. At least… in a "classroom" setting.

Orion thinks nothing of your assessment. Afterall, he has no idea that you've probably seen less dogfight footage (and no more real dogfights) than he has, and your comment seems sound enough for someone who hasn't seem the rest of the clip. "Oh… naw." He slides his left hand out of the cat's cradle like it's no big deal, and reaches for the remote to pause the screen. "Naw. See that bird off the port side? Can just make out 'er blowers. That's the element lead. He's got two bandits on him, his wingman's got a busted wing, near as I can tell. Cam's shaky as all get-out. Can't slow down like that. Wing Lead'd get splash with those shadows. Least that's what I think." He's just assuming you've been doing this for a while, apparently. The man reaches off to unpause the video, "Ensign Orion Scala. Just hit the 58th Squadron a week ago." He adds with a smirk, "Done been a messed up week."

"Missed that," Kalypso says, accompanied by a soft 'huh' acknowledgement. She leans back in her chair, hands linking behind her neck and ruffling up her blonde locks. "Not the best scenario. Leaves the Raptor to have to do some more serious maneuvering to shake off her tails… work up a good jam." She sounds like she knows what she's talking about. She's just never had practical application of any of this. And in turn, she's assuming that Orion knows what he's on about. "Pleasure to meet you Scala." Pause. Snort… that… was un-lady like. Her father's dust is rolling over on Caprica right about now. "It's been more than a messed up week. I just came off the Hera."

"It's all frakked. That's why I pulled this one." One of the craft persuing the viper suddenly breaks off.. probably because its systems are getting jammed by the raptor. The ensuing furball is probably hard to follow. Orion's sure taking his time pausing, rewinding, and resuming. "Reckon they've got to pull some shit out their ass or it would've been a bravo tango foxtrot for sure." Pilots often abbreviate things using military letters. Especially swear words. In this case, BTF. It's not some official well known abbreviation, but he probably means 'buy the farm'. "Oh… shit." He looks up at you, and apparently does not notice the snort in the least. He's used to women acting like men down here. "That fraking… I flew CAP for that frakfest of an op. They had some kind of riot on the Nebula."

Kalypso is wracking her brain to figure out what BTF might stand for. Technically she's only been 'official' for less than twenty-four hours. She lifts her right hand, picking at her cuticles while she looks at the screen. "We had a battlestar rape the ships of their FTLs. What do you expect? Everyone to be happy that the Genesis answered the distress call? Sure, some were celebrating, but we were damn sure skeptical. Then I hear one of the Marines got trigger happy and shot fifteen people. Thirteen dead, two wounded? Civillians." She lowers her hands and suddenly pushes up from her seat. "This is all frakked."

"You might could say you're lucky they didn't take it out on you. Why'd they leave you the frak beind?" Orion shifts in his seat, then threads his left hand right back into the cat's cradle and, I shit you not, goes right back to what he was doing. He's far too good with that string. He narrows his gaze a bit, "Can't believe the Pegasus pulled that. What you have there is.. well… it ain't right, I'll just say no more on that. Don't reckon I have to." When you mention the shooting, Orion stops. The pilots didn't hear too much about this over the radio. His jaw opens and for a second he looks a little mortified.

Kalypso is up and pacing between the rows of chairs. Her shadow passes back and forth across the screen. When he says something about being left behind by the Pegasus, she stops and turns bi-colored eyes on him. "They stormed into the ships and TOOK what they wanted leaving everyone behind to die," she says, an edge to her voice now. "The frak if I was going to speak up and say I was an Ensign with the Colonial Navy before being shuffled off to that pleasure boat. I didn't want any part of the Pegasus or her crew. No. It's NOT right and they'll get theirs in the end… just like whoever that Marine was that frakked up." Her silouhette is cast up on the screen, the image playing out around her while the Vipers and Raptor fight for their lives. She's looking right at Orion. "Daddy thought sending me off to the Hera would get flying out of my system. Well, looks like he was wrong. I was meant to be on the Hera, to survive, and now I damned sure am going to make use of my training." She spins on her heel and starts for the door.

Once the momentary shock of your report wears off, Orion is a little quiet. He listens to everything you said, and casually adds, "That there attitude's what'll keep you alive. That'n the wing. Squadron looks out for itself s'long as you look out for it. What are you? Gold or Ares?" He watches the stillscreen view from the guncam languidly.

"Ares," Kalypso says over her shoulder. Her hand hits the door and she looks back, sending her hair swinging. She doesn't actually open the door yet, as she's looking at the back of Orion's head. "I'll see you around Scala."

"Ares Wing." repeats Orion, not even looking at you, "Surprised. You're kind of a bitch, Leto. Reminds me of Gold Wing." He chuckles to himself, then turns back to the guncam, "Yeah. Toodles."

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