The New-Old XO
The New-Old XO
Summary: Salin asks Fotilas to become XO. Again.
Date: 96 ACH (17 Feb 09)
Related Logs: None
Players:
Fotilas..Salin..

[Intercom] Pass the word. Captain Fotilas to the Ward Room

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Ward Room Genesis - Deck 11
96 ACH 23797 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 Three - Duty Area >----—-

Contents: Fotilas Salin Wireless 1249

Exits: [O] Corridor

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At this particular moment, Salin is seated in one of the chairs at the table, a variety of papers scattered around in front of him. There's a pen held in his left hand and he's apparently going over a variety of different things. Next to the papers, ont he left side, is a small box.

Fotilas steps through the hatch in his off-duty garb, the shirts tucked into his pants. He's still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, even though this isn't the time he's normally racked-out. He spots Salin at the table and his brow rises with everything scattered there. But after shutting the hatch behind him, his hands tuck behind his back falling at-ease. "Colonel. What can I do for you, sir?" He wasn't told to report, so the man's eyes linger around the XO (CO?) for a moment.

Salin doesn't immediately look up from his paperwork. Rather, a hand lifts and he's motioning towards one of the chairs, "I'm sure you heard my announcement the other evening, about Commander Regas? Or, by now, you're aware that the Commander has passed away?"

Fotilas takes the hint and moves to the indicated chair. "Aye, sir, I heard the announcement. There's a lot of scuttlebutt about what happened but I think I'm going to wait until I hear something official." He doesn't sit ramrod straight in the chair. Rather, he sits back a touch but still keeps his attention on the man with the bars.

There's a nod as Salin scribbles something on one of the papers, "As for what happened, that's staying under wraps for the time being. At least until the investigation has been completed." It's then that he's setting the pen down so that he can lift his gaze to settle on Fotilas, "As is normal, I've taken over as the Fleet Commander. Colonel Carter has taken over as Fleet XO." There's a pause, "But, I need a XO. Your name came up a couple of times during Command's meeting last night. You interested?"

The Captain nods once to Salin's intentions to keep it under wraps for now. Its not his place to ask. He listens patiently while the Colonel outlines the set-up, though the last catches him by surprise nd its hard to hide. "Me, sir?" Fotilas blinks a few times, looking side to side. "I, ah.. Look, Colonel," he begins, settling forward with his forearms resting on the table. "I'm a tactician and a Marine at the heart. I know how to fight. Save for the Virgon strike, I spent the last month and a half in the XO position running myself into the ground with paperwork. I know its part of the job, but I don't think I'm the right man for that job. I was behind on the work and communication was abyssmal. To be honest Colonel, you need a PR rep in that slot, not a combat commander." He knows he's overstepping his bounds with that, but says it anyway. The Captains voice is cool, even, and low. Methodical. "If I might be so bold, sir, I would suggest Major Zimmermann."

There's a faint chuckle as Salin gives a slight shake of his head, "Neither Major Zimmermann nor Major Zaharis are interested. And frankly, they really can't be sparred from their duties in their respective departments." He's leaning back in his seat now, hands clasping together, "I know you had issues in the position with Regas, Jameson, but I'm not him. Nor, do I have the combat experience that you or he had. As it is, I'm a paper pusher with a moderate amount of training. I -need- a tactician and combat commander in CIC. And I also need someone that I'm capable of trusting."

The Captain takes a long breath and hearing his two choices won't take the slot. But the man nods, conceeding the point to Salin with a simple gesture of his hand in the Colonel's direction. "True enough." As Salin continues, the hand lifts to rubs at his forehead a bit. He's quiet for a moment, still thinking. "Colonel, I know you aren't Regas. Not by a long shot. But the problem still lies with the fleet. We're not a combat vessel anymore. We're a police force with delusions of warfighting. Now, let me make it clear that I don't support splitting us like the Commander did. But when the Cylons show up, we just run or jump away. We don't make any sort of offensive actions or raids against them anymore. And if I accept this offer, sir, as much as I appreciate the gesture? I'm just going to have to resign again because I can't do paperwork." At least the guy is being honest with the Colonel.

"True enough. We need to get our priorities in order, which is something that we're going to be working on. Whether it's hanging around the Colonies for supplies and raids, or if it's setting out into deep space in search of a planet." There's a lift of Salin's shoulders then and he's offering a quick smile, "Frankly, both are possibilities. And as to the paperwork? Leave it to me. I need someone who can spend their time in CIC and go be seen out with the crew. I don't want the XO bogged down in paperwork."

Fotilas looks down to the table. He can already feel the paper headache returning just with thinking about that office. "Sir, like I said, you need a PR rep. You've seen how good I am at handling civilian matters. I can cruise around and be seen on the ship no problem. But I can do that as a Captain." Then the man stops for a moment and looks at Salin as if he's decided to take a new approach. "I don't have much interest in being a policeman, sir. Running away to protect the fleet is the right thing to do. But we never engage. We're always reacting to their moves - which is how you lose a war. Sure, we've already lost, but its not like we don't have twenty-four thousand people that have more to lose. I just can't in good conscious accept a position where I'll be ineffective, sir. I know you want a combat commander but I don't see the need."

"Fair enough." Salin's offering as he picks up his pen, "Accept the position then, and work with Colonel Carter on ways to strike back at the Cylons. Methods that don't require us pulling the Genesis and Pandora away from the Fleet for months or years. While I'm all for finding a new home and seeing that these people live, there's nothing stopping the Cylons from showing up on our doorstep if we do that." He's pausing for a moment, "We can start with the Colonies. I'm thinking of speaking with Colonel Carter and sending a scouting team to Scorpia, to see what's left of the shipyards. There's bound to be supplies there, amongst the wreaks and our first step is to resupply. We are running dangerously low on too many things."

Fotilas lets his eyes settle on the box. He knows whats inside. "Attacks are easy. There's no place left in the Colonies we can't go to without finding targets. just before I resigned, when we did the recon for the raid on Virgon, we got a lot of imagery of the situation back there. Its a mess, but you can't throw a stone without hitting forty toasters. As for the recon? Once you select a CAG, I'd suggest giving them free-reign. Have them get with the tactical officer and Major Gaelan and look for targets and what we need." The man is still a Tac Officer no matter where you stick him. "As for the pins? …I.. reluctantly accept, sir. But if I think I have to become a policeman again, I'll let it go. I can't do that anymore. I worked past being burned-out."

Salin pushes the box across the desk, giving a slight nod of his head, "Congratulations, Major." Settling back in the chair, there's a quick smile, "I'm not keen on us being policeman and I'm not keen on us being overloaded on paperwork. You start getting bogged down on paperwork, slip it under my door. There's no reason for you to be worrying about that. As for the rest? Get with Carter. Our first priority right now, is to resupply. We can't fight or survive much longer with what we've got and I'm not keen on running out of fuel or food."

Fotilas eyes the box as it moves, still not reaching out for it just yet. "Ah, thank you, sir." He thinks. He'll wait before getting excited. Again. "We need that civilian government set-up so we can stop fussing over those people ourselves. Those cops I remember you talking about? We need those volunteers set-up so we can pull out Marines back. If you intend to follow-through with what you're saying, sir, we'll be needing them. And more. Gaelan will need to start recruiting Marines the same way the Air Wing will need to start pulling pilots." The losses lately haven't gone missed by him, apparently. "We can get supplies, but we need men and women to do it. I'll have to review status logs, but we're cutting it close." Finally he reaches over and takes the box without opening it. "What are my orders with Carter, exactly? I know he's going to have a fit with abandoning his star-missions for getting back into some combat."

"The Civilians have their government underway. Isabeau Aragon is the point person for that project. If you're interested, seek her out and find out what we can do to help speed things along. As for the Police Force? It's already underway. The Security Forces are accepting more and more responsibilities, which has allowed our Marines to be pulled back." His pen is lifted and he's making a few notations, "As for Carter? Supplies, first and foremost. Find us somewhere to resupply. If the Cylons are there, fine. We'll come up with a plan to deal with them and get what we need. But we won't be able to do anything, unless we have full stores." A pause, "By the way, the Pandora is being all but decommissioned. I've ordered her stripped of all available resources and she'll be used to store supplies for us. And, don't move into the XO's Quarters, yet. While the investigation is underway, they're going through those quarters, so I've been sleeping off in the married quarters, since it's relatively sparse."

Fotilas seems to be taking his own mental notes, jotting down what needs to be done. The news of the Pandora gets a rather pleased look from him. "Thank the Gods. I've bene trying to advocate that for awhile now. It's a damned resources hog. Last I checked, it was responsible for a pretty sizable chunk of our fleet's fuel consumption. I'd rather see the thing just flat-out gone, to be honest, but?" Fotilas shrugs. Not his call. "Oh, I might just stay in the Officers berthings anyway, Colonel. Use the office when I need someplace private. I prefer being amongst the crew, I think."

There's a nod of his head and he's chuckling softly, "As much as I'd like to strip it down and leave it .. if we can fill it with supplies and resources, we'll be better off in the long run. It's a fairly large craft." There's a quick smile and he begins to gather up his papers, "Your choice there. Won't make you use the quarters and if you decide against it, let me know. For the moment, I need to run to prepare for another meeting. I'll make sure the crew is aware of your acceptance to the post in a little bit. If you need anything or anything comes up, just let me know."

Fotilas rises carefully with the box in-hand. Christ.. what the hell is he doing this to himself for? "Aye, sir." That's all he says about the Pandora. There's only a nod to Salin as he says he will inform the crew. "I'll be in touch, sir. I guess it would seem I need to go find Colonel Carter, anyway." He moves towards the hatch. "Thanks for the consideration, sir. For both our sake, I hope I work out this time."

"Sounds good, Major." Salin's giving a soft laugh and then a nod of his head, "We'll make it work, Jameson. There's little doubt about that. Take it easy and here's to hoping we can restocked." That said, he's rising from the chair as the last of the paperwork is placed in his folder. Then, he's lifting it under his arm as he begins to head towards the door.

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