PHD #369: Black
PHD #369: Black
Summary: Andrea looks to test her skills with Khloe in supervision. Failure occurs. Poppy offers her frank suggestions to Hosedown.
Date: 02 Mar 2042 AE
Related Logs: Andrea injury logs
Andrea Khloe 
Flight Simulation - Deck 11 - Battlestar Cerberus
A training room specifically dedicated to honing aerial skills, this area is equipped with several flight simulator pods that allow the pilots to practice maneuvers and tactics without being in a real live plane. The Viper-pods are installed on one side of the room with a little space between them, an attempt to provide a realistic feel for close-range wing training, while a smaller number of Raptor sim-pods are installed on the opposite side of the room from the Vipers. A central computer terminal and overhead display screen sits at the head of the room, where one can input exercises and data to be run in the sims, scroll through score records, and control the training modules.
Post-Holocaust Day: #369

Decked out in her officer wings, Andrea is walking with a bit of a skip in her step, today. While she is carrying the cane medical still wants her on, it is being twirled rather than used for support. So far, every test has come out positive… no dizzy spells, no jumping someone just because they have a y-chromosome. She could be back on the line any time now. She even whistles as she walks. Who does that?

Certainly not Khloe, who is waiting in flight simulation as requested. In the few minutes that she's been waiting (as Khloe never shows up late) she's been reviewing more data on the Aeolus Belt, a number of stills and other data flashing by on the screen. She leans up against the master console, arms crossed, clicking a clicker idly as she watches. Click. Click.

"Hey, Poppy! Sorry I'm running late, I passed a doc in the hall and had to pretend to walk carefully up the stairs, damned if he didn't follow me most of the way here." She smiles bright. Reaching up, she brushes the dusting of red that is returning to her head. "Won't be too long, now. Decided what color you're gonna go with, when the time comes?"

Khloe pauses her playback, glancing over at Andrea's more-than-chipper entrance. "Is there something you wanted to speak to me about, Lieutenant?" Asks Poppy in her authoritative, no-bullshit alto. "I'm glad you're up and about. I'd recommend you take the doctors seriously, though, if you're going to return to full duty quicker."

Andrea laughs. "They're just being cautious. I haven't had a single dizzy spell since the surgery. If it were up to me, I'd be back in the saddle tomorrow. And actually, that is part of what this about. I was wondering if you could give me an evaluation in the sims, test out my ability to focus, that sort of thing. It won't test how I handle the gees, but it'll be another tick on my to-do list, and if its you giving me the okay, no one is really going to gainsay you. Not asking you to lie or anything, of course, just to really test my reflexes and the like."

Khloe nods slightly. "There's no harm in that. You're not being subject to any G-forces here, and the greatest physical exertion is you jamming your feet on the pedals. If you feel you're up to it, I can run you a quick program." With that, Khloe slips behind the console and begins calling up a program designed to test seasoned pilots, at Hosedown's shown approximate skill level.

Andrea smiles as she swings into the pod, leaving her cane leaning against it from the inside as she starts the pre-flight sequence. "So, I ask again, you given any consideration to the color of choice? Blonde doesn't seem quite you, and we have a bunch of gingers already. You should go black, I think. Jet black."

"Let it rest, Hosedown," comes Khloe's quick reply, a hint of an edge to her voice. She's not backing down, is she? As the simulation loads and spins up, it's a simulation of Tau Garrison on Tauron, complete with adverse desert weather conditions: heat, sand, crosswinds. "You'll be launching from the ground with a simulated wingman. Your objective is successful CAP of Tau Garrison's perimeter." And without further explanation, she pushes the 'go' button, and Hosedown is given full control. Poppy prefers testing the Knights in 'sandbox' simulations, where the pilot(s) have the choice of doing… whatever they feel is appropriate, really.

Andrea nods and punches it, pushing her Viper perhaps a bit harder than normal, as if eager to get going. She communicates per standard with her wingman, flying into a wide circle over the garrison, watching the soup the blowing sand makes of her DRADIS with a smile, watching for contacts as she pulls into the turn. "So how are your injuries, Poppy? The burns and the like?"

Khloe begins typing on her master keyboard; she's not the fastest typer, more like a hunt-and-peck typist. Whatever she's doing, though, she's not giving any hints - probably altering the simulation, or feeding the computer some information. "Mostly discolorations now, but I'm still taking antibiotics. I'll live. The shock to my leg was trivial and I've already worked through it." The latter injury sustained several swarms ago when a stray KEW took out a secondary bus near her cockpit. "You? I can't help but note that Tisiphone had that look far before you, and she pulled it off far better."

<FS3> Andrea rolls Vipers-10: Failure.

"I noticed her distinct lack of scars on her scalp, as well." Andrea says with a sigh. "They still itch like a Caprican whore after Colonial Day, but the docs say that will pass pretty soon, once enough hair has grown back to protect the skin from drying out, etc." She frowns as her bird has some trouble with the cross breezes. "Damn…"

"Compensate for the winds. Also watch your engine temperature. You'll overheat in this atmosphere with all that sand," Khloe advises as she continues to peck away. "Scars are a testament to your service." She clicks 'submit' and all of a sudden, all hell breaks loose. DRADIS picks up two bogies - not cylons, but what it designates as military-grade propeller craft, and all of Hosedown's instruments signify a missile lock.

<FS3> Andrea rolls Vipers-10: Success.
<FS3> Andrea rolls Gunnery-10: Success.

"Dammit… they've got lock, evasive!" Andrea calls to her wingman, jerking her Viper to avoid the incoming. She does so, barely, watching as the missile just barely misses her wing. Meanwhile, she has a lock on the one who shot at her, and squeezes the trigger, watching as the simulated craft explodes under her fire… at the same time her wingmate vanishes from DRADIS. "Dammit… Terrorists? Really?" She pulls around to get into position on the other.

Khloe frowns slightly at Hosedown's surprise. "Prior to Warday, the main threat to Colonial safety were from the civilian populace. Sagittaron separatists, dissidents, terrorists, criminals. They were using the dust storm as cover. Your wingman is dead," she states, the last bit being the obvious, of course. All of this said in her usual clipped speech. "The funny thing is that a Viper's maneuverability is more or less wasted on atmosphere, and on Tauron a chopper has far greater control than a turbo-charged aircraft that pretty much can only go in straight lines easily. So you've pretty much got one shot to deal with your target before he locks another missile on you."

<FS3> Andrea rolls Vipers-10: Failure.
<FS3> Andrea rolls Gunnery-10: Success.

The next lock doesn't take long, and Andrea grimaces as her wing sustains damage. Still, she gets the second bogey in her sights, as well, and squeezes off a shot, destroying the bogey. "Crap, I always hated atmo landings. Okay, okay, bringing her down…" she wrestles with the controls. "I did some atmo to atmo fighting in wargames before warday, but never, crap… Tau Garrison, Hosedown, clear the runway, damaged craft coming in for landing…"

<FS3> Andrea rolls Vipers-30: Bad Failure.

And as Hosedown attempts to land her damaged Viper in atmosphere and gravity, with crosswind, heat, and sand, all of her instruments and alarms begin to sound as the aircraft wobbily bounces once upon hitting the tarmac. Then, predictably, it lurches to the side of her damaged wing, skids, and the bird flips uncontrollably and fatally. Red lights up across the entire display, and the simulation ends. "Hmm, interesting," Khloe murmurs, and begins jotting down numbers on a clipboard.

Andrea grimaces as the readouts tell her she is dead, taking a moment to thump the seat. Not much to say, she looks out of the pod at Khloe.

Khloe takes her time in writing down whatever she's writing. "So, Lieutenant, here's where you went wrong," she offers, glancing up at her. "One, while the helicopter assault was meant to be a surprise with no chance of detecting it prior to being in the air, your atmospheric handling was… lacking. Had you been focusing on your instruments and less interested in talking about my future hair color, you might've had a better control on your craft. Two," she clicks her pen closed and sets it down on the clipboard. "In atmosphere a Viper's strength is not the acrobatics we depend on to defeat enemies in zero-G. The strength comes in three turbo-charged engines that can make you supersonic in a time shorter than conventional missiles can acquire, launch, and impact. And three," she says, stepping out from behind the console and resting her hands on her hips. "You chose to land a damaged bird rather than eject. Not only did the Colonial Navy lose two birds, it lost two pilots, instead of only one."

Andrea takes her lumps with a nod. She hadn't thought of just going hypersonic to outrun the missiles and then coming back. As for landing… you ALWAYS tried to land, if you had any maneuverability at all… in space. "Sorry, sir. Always been a space jock. I'll work on all of that."

Khloe nods affirmatively. There's a long moment where she scrutinizes Andrea's face and body language. Satisfied that she's not mopy, she adds, "Now, where you succeeded, you showed superior conviction in killing your targets. Your marksmanship was superb despite the crosswind and lack of maneuverability in atmosphere. I wouldn't call this exercise a complete failure." Just a partial one? "I would say that your skills and reflexes are fine. I would argue that you've been out of a cockpit for a time and your mind isn't ordered properly."

Andrea smiles again, getting out of the pod. "Or, at least, as ordered properly as it ever was, right, Captain?" She takes her cane as she stands. "I'll try to arrange a Gee test sometime soon. Maybe catch a lift in a Raptor on CAP, have them do some stunt flying, see how I hold up."

"I'd recommend you do random simulations as your light duty permits, to get your mental edge back," Khloe offers. "I'd also recommend you work with Medical in some physical therapy to get your physical edge back. I won't accept excuses; you can either fly, or you can't. I'd rather know sooner than later." She tears off the sheet, which appears to be an official pilot evaluation form, except that it has VOID stamped in red at the top. It's just notations as to what she spoke of, as well as the assorted numerical evaluation. She hands the paper to Andrea; if she reviews the page, at the bottom, out of place, is a single word: Black.

Reading the paper, Andrea nods, and smiles a bit when she gets to the bottom, out of place, word. "Understood, sir. I'll get right on it. It's good to be able to get out of bed again. Thank you for your time."

Khloe gives a slight dip of her chin in a nod. "Dismissed." And at that point, the Captain turns away, likely to resume whatever work she was doing when the Lieutenant came in.

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