| Annual Performance Review - Flasher |
| Summary: | Marko gets his annual performance review… and pitches something Cylon related. |
| Date: | 21 Jun 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | Those involving Marko and Mark working on Hammerfall foo |
| Players: |
  |
| Ready Room - Deck 7 - Battlestar Cerberus |
| With the hatches at the rear of the room, the walkways on both sides slope down towards the dais at the front of the room. The stadium seating forms a partial semi-circle around the speaking podium and provides enough seats for all three hundred members of the Air Wing. The walls are adorned with the patches of each squadron aboard and their mottos stenciled in white lettering above each one. Behind the podium is a set of large LCD screens that can display any matter of material from reconnaissance to maps to gun camera footage. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #480 |
Another day, another performance review. This one finds Captain Kal Trask clad in his flight suit, sitting up front where he reviews footage. Pause. Rewind. Play. Slow-mo. Rewind. Play. Pause. Jot some notes. Resume. Jot some more notes. This is how he passes the time while waiting for the recipient of the impending review to arrive.
Marko pauses just outside of the ready room to adjust the line of his flight suit nervously before giving the hatchcombing a few quick raps with his knuckles. "Okay, relax, Marko, you'll do fine," he tells himself. "Just don't let him rattle you."
That's almost like pleading with a force of nature. Even so, whether Bootstrap's general air of calm is that which comes before the storm remains to be seen. "This room's been reserved, so you either better be Flasher or this outta be important, and keep in mind that I'm the one who decides whether or not it's important," is casually quipped in response to the knuckle rapping. Eyes still remain on the screen.
"Ah…." Marko says, chuckling nervously as he makes his way into the room. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Marko Scaurus reporting as ordered, sir," he says to his squad leader, snapping off a salute and coming to attention. He's learned a long time ago that, at his rung in the food chain, it's better to be formal first and get ribbed about it, than familiar and have his head torn off. Marko is fond of his head.
Trask has never been one much for ceremony, but he nonetheless returns the salute, as a matter of professional respect, if only because he professionally respects Marko. "At ease, Scaurus, an' take a seat." Which is indicated with a tilt of the SL's head. Simultaneously, the footage is paused. That done, the remote is set down and a folder on his desktop that is labeled SCAURUS, MARKO is flipped open.
Marko slips out of ramrod-spine mode and sinks gratefully into the offered chair. The sight of his folder is meant to rattle him, no doubt, and, despite his knowing that it would be there, this being a performance review and all, it does manage to send a flutter through his innards. He doesn't speak, figuring this is one of those 'when spoken to moments', but it's clear Trask has his complete and undivided attention.
"So," Bootstrap begins rather simply, "the last time we spoke about your skill levels, you were told to improve your handling of the guns. Going over your numbers, you have, so that's good. There's also been increased proficiency in countermeasures, which is to be expected, so that's also good." Those preliminary points out of the way, the Captain continues, "Your assorted programming work's been awesome, so nothing more to comment about that other than stating it's been awesome." Which is his way of doing so.
Marko nods slowly, "Thank you, sir." Marko replies simply, starting to breathe just a little more easily with this thing starting out going well for him. Though he knows full well how quickly that can change.
The other boot to drop? Here it is: "Moving forward, all Harriers are to be cross-certified in both Raptor pipelines. I'll slate you for a flight assessment and we'll go from there. The aim is for you to earn your wings within the next six-to-nine months." That all said, Trask leans back in his seat and merely regards the junior ECO. After a moment, he inquires, "How d'you feel about teachin'?"
The bit about going back to flight elicits a momentary wince, but only a momentary one. "Yes, sir. Frankly, sir, I was kind of expecting this, it's good to finally get it out in the open. Flight training with the goal of wings in six to nine months. Sounds like fun." he says, trying to give a brave grin, with an expression that also says 'Sounds like the days of me being friendly with the deck crew are going to come to screeching halt for a spell.' Trask has his results from Raptor training; he passed, but barely. "Teaching, sir?" he asks, cocking his head a little. "Actually, that sounds like fun." he replies with a real grin this time.
"It's been a long time comin'," Trask admits about the cross-qualifications and leaves it at that. As for the teaching, Marko's response conjures a smile that illumes the Taurian's face. "Good, 'cuz I sure as frak don't have the time to be playing professor." It's said in a good-natured way. "You're bright and personable, and I've certainly learned stuff from you. I have no doubts that you'll make a good instructor. Toast will be taking aside those tapped for teaching, and she'll likely be the one to instruct you on how to instruct others. If ever you have questions, though, don't hesitate to let me know, yeah? I'll sit in on the classes when I can, and I'll help you put together the ECO lesson plans."
"Sounds good, sir." Marko replies, nodding amiably. "It'll be good to be able to bring the new ECOs up to snuff with all the stuff we've learned since Warday." he adds. "Especially now that we more or less know what works and what doesn't." he adds. "And what we really need to emphasize and what we really don't."
"Agreed." For Bootstrap is actually capable of being agreeable, provided the proper conditions are met. "Right, then. Any questions, comments, or… anything, really, that you wanna bring to my attention before we conclude this review?"
"Eh, just one thing, sir. I'm sure you know that me and Mark have been doing a little bit of experimental work with the Hammerfall missiles." Marko begins. "Just computer modeling, nothing too serious, but we've made a _lot_ of progress and the bloody thing looks like dynamite." he grins wolfishly. "Well, a new concern's entered our heads." he adds, turning a bit more serious. "If things go the way they look like they're going, and we wind up in some kind of alliance with the Cylons, we're going to need to develop a version of the Hammerfall we can selectively target so we don't wind up having a blue on blue incident." he adds, more tentative now. "The big question is about the Cylon Raiders, how they work, how they 'see', their sensing capabilities." he says. "And for that, I think, and this is just me personally, we need to talk to one of the skinjobs we've got in the brig. I can make it sound like something else, a kind of 'If you're serious about all of this business, then give us some hard data we can really use." he adds quickly. "I've already sworn bloodcurdling oaths on the Scrolls of all the Gods in our Pantheon not to even breathe the word 'Hammerfall'."
The pen in Kal's left hand idly taps for a few beats while he considers the proposal. "To be perfectly honest, I doubt they'll give anything of much use, but some use is better than nothin'. Even I-F-F keys for their fleet would already make our jobs easier. And with Doc Adair still out cold, the sooner we have somethin' more to work with, the better." Faintly, he frowns when mentioning Cameron, and it darkens all the way to his eyes. Now is not the time to brood, however, so he notes, "I'm fine with the notion. I'll run it past Toast." That settles that. "Anything else?"
"No, sir." Marko replies, shaking his head a little. "And thanks, I can't make any promises I'll get anything useful, but like you said, half answers are better than no answers at all." he nods. "Just let me know, sir. I'm already writing down my questions."
"Shoot me a copy of what you come up with," the SL says. "I might think of somethin' you might've overlooked." It's conveyed in a dotting of 'I's and crossing of 'T's manner. And speaking of copies…
More than meant to just rattle junior officers, the folder on the SL's desktop serves another important purpose: to house the triplicate review form that he subsequently retrieves and places before Marko with a pen. "Sign an' date." The contents are pretty much all that Trask said, complete with his own signature already on the dotted line.
"Yes, sir. Good thinking." Marko replies, nodding and taking up the pen. A quick scrawl of his signature and a datestamp later, the official functions are taken care of.
The good thinking comment conjures an amused smile. "I didn't earn my rank based solely on my good looks, and it sure as frak had nothing to do with a scintillating personality." Carefully, the triplicate sheets are separated and the JiG is given a copy for his personal files. "You've yet to disappoint me, Marko." Which is no small feat. "Keep it that way." Which is relayed off-handedly enough to not sound threatening, but it's not as if what a displeased Bootstrap is capable of is any secret, and that should more than enough make up for the somewhat innocuous tone. "Say hi to your wife for me." And just like that, Flasher is dismissed.
"Aye-aye, sir." Marko replies with a nod. "I'll be sure to do that." he adds. A displeased Trask is certainly high, very high, on his list of Things He Does Not Want To See, just somewhere below the shape of a Cylon missile getting larger milliseconds before it explodes inside the hull of his Raptor and just above The Wrath of Zeus. "Well, I'm off for CAP, sir. Good hunting, sir." and with that, Marko beats a hasty retreat.