| Brassed Part Three - Sisters in Arms |
| Summary: | Leyla is promoted. She and the CAG reflect upon matters of family, of various kinds. |
| Date: | 02 Oct 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Brassed Part One - Frak!; Brassed Part Two - Up the Down Money Shot |
| Players: |
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| Ready Room - Deck 7 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| 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. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #218 |
LTJG Leyla Aydin was summoned to the Ready Room for a little meet with the CAG as soon as her duty shift was over. No reason for this summons was given. Odd, that, in more ways than one. Cidra seems to actively avoid meeting with personnel in the Ready Room, unless it's during an actual briefing that requires more room than her rather cramped office provides. Whatever might be the import of this, Cidra is here to meet Sweet Pea. She's standing at the podium in her duty blues, leaning almost casually against it. Waiting.
It may not be usual. But it's certainly not casual. The pilot has yet to meet the CAG in the Ready Room when there wasn't a briefing, a meeting, a rotation rescheduling, an announcement of you know what about to hit the you know where. In short, never, without a reason. And given that she's just been assigned as an instructor-in-training, and assisting in training the SL of all people, well, you know it can't be good. So, shift over and the fastest freshening up a pilot ever took. In the history of pilots hauling their asses. So in Leyla comes, in her flight suit, though she did manage to ditch the helmet. A flip of her newly rebraided and slicked down with water hair, before she steps in through the Ready Room hatch.
"Aydin," Cidra steps down from the podium to meet Leyla, though she does not actually ask the younger pilot to sit. "At ease." Which isn't a particularly 'easy' stance, despite what the military calls it. "I thank you for your promptness. I shall try not to keep you long. I know you have many duties upon your shoulders now, with training and the retrieval of salvage and survivors from Aerilon. You have been doing good work, in case it has not been said before. First with the missives on Sagittaron, and now with your assistance in locating a salvageable civilian ship. It has not gone unnoticed."
At ease it is, hand settling behind her, feet slightly apart. It's like the perfect human target position, truth to tell. Which might or might not be why superior officers like it so much. "I've done what I can to earn my position in the Harriers, Major, and to serve the fleet to the best of my ability. But I thank you for the recognition." Though the tone might be closer to, well, 'I'm thanking you, but I'm not sure I should be thanking you, because it's sort of my job.' "But I haven't worked alone. None of what I have been able to do would have been possible without the other members of the crew." Oh, if Tisiphone was here right now, she's probably pimpslap her. But, thankfully, the Sagittaron pilot is in absentia.
"A Wing, at best, is a large machine with many moving parts. On the best days, they work well together. And we do fly surpassing well together, Sweet Pea. When we put our minds to it," Cidra says. The praise is not lingered on. The CAG does not give such much, really, except in the form of 'You did that task adequately.' "In the Harriers, you have done well. You shown not only competence and a level head - two qualities I hold in very high distinction - but also initiative and capacity as a leader among your fellow pilots. You do not at present have the proper tools to make full use of these, however. I shall remedy that today." She reaches into her pockets, grasping something and withdrawing it in a closed fist. "I am endeavoring to…settle many matters. But I cannot do this alone. To go forward I shall need to strengthen my arms. And so I lay more responsibility upon you, Lieutenant." And she opens her hands to reveal some brass. Full LT pins. Perhaps, given the end of the world, they're short on those little ceremonial boxes one tends to get when promoted.
Leyla remains standing, still, quiet, and attentive. If there's one thing every member of the Air Wing knows, it's that when Major Hahn opens her mouth, yours had better be closed. And your ears had better be open. Just the slightest wrinkle at 'when we put our minds to it.' She could so say something right now, but alas. The moment passes uncommented. "Whatever I can do, or can learn to help you, Major of course I—" Full stop. This is not a sim. This is not a drill. Set Condition One throughout the ship. Leyla's eyes, previously focused on Cidra's face as, well, that's sort of part of at ease, drop down to the CAG's hand. And for a long moment, she doesn't move a muscle. But then, that moment too, passes, and Leyla unclasps her hands from behind her back, reaching, not for the pins, but to unlock and remove her gloves. "I will not disappoint you, Major. And I will do whatever I can to assist you." And then, well, there aren't any collars, or places for pinny pins or buttony buttons, so she simply holds out a hand, her dominant left, giving preference to Cidra's righhandedness. "Thank you, Major." And this time, there's no doubt in the thanks.
The barest hint of a wry smile crosses Cidra's lips at that wrinkle from Leyla when she hits that bit of her spiel. Her words were likely carefully chosen. She sets the pins in Leyla's outstretched hand. "No. You shall not disappoint." It is said firmly, as if giving an order, but with a certainty behind it. In this case, it's not something she particularly doubts. "Bootstrap and I do both agree you are ready for it. He needs a strong right hand with the Harriers, and you have shown yourself more than capable of being that. I thank you, Sweet Pea." And then she leans forward. As if, for all the worlds, like she's about to kiss the other woman. But, a glance down at her gloved hands, and she hesitates. Pulling back a little she asks, rather randomly, "I have noted your hands are usually gloved. Even when off-duty. This is a Tauron mourning custom, yes? I…admit I know little of it. I am of Gemenon, for my part, and our ways are…quite different than most."
Leyla's hand curls around the pins now settled into her palm. And there they lie, still and heavy. "The Lieutenant seems more than capable with both the right and the left hand, Major." And that's said with absolute honesty. Whatever Leyla might or might not feel for the SL personally, she absolutely believes in the man, and in his abilities, "But I would be proud to do my duty to him, and to you." She makes no movement to retreat from the Major as the other woman approaches, nor to mirror the movement when she draws away. "When someone we love, or are close to dies, they are something precious, a connection in the world to the world that is lost. We wear gloves to distance ourselves from the world, as a visual and physical reminder of what was lost, until such time as they and their memory have been properly acknowledged and their spirit put to rest." For all Leyla might be logical 'scientist' type, tradition and upholding them seem exceedingly important to her. "I wear them so that I do not forget them."
"Competence is one thing. And in his duties, Trask is more than capable. But a leader must look beyond himself, to his people. And they must have a trust in those around them, those they can lean on when things are particularly hard. I have felt this most…keenly in these past weeks." Cidra says not why, though a flicker of sadness crosses her face as she notes it. Though she quiets as she listens to the explanation. Letting out a soft, "Ah." She nods. "I see. There is much comfort in such traditions. This I do know. Before I joined the service, as a younger woman, I did consider entering the seminary. Taking my vows as a priestess of Athena. I…life took me in another direction. But I have always felt the bonds between pilots, between those who serve together, not unlike those of the Sisters. They live together, share in their worldly ministries and toils, are there through each other's struggles, griefs, triumphs." A pause. "All who fly with me are my brothers and sisters."
"I believe the Harriers do trust him. I know that I trust him. But my mother once told me," exceedingly wise woman, was Aylin Aydin, "that a warrior does not go into battle, willing to give his life for the man he trusts. He gives his life for the man he loves. The man in whom he sees what he hopes for the better part of himself. " Clearly, 'love' is an issue with most of the Harriers, that's no lie. And Leyla isn't going to sugarcoat that. "We carry the loved and lost, with us. We need only sit in quiet to hear their voices." And perhaps that's why the gloves never come off. Hard to think, to be, with the voices of the dead in your head. "I am not a religious person by nature, as I am certain you know. But a good man or woman, does not need to wear robes, or say prayers to minister to the needs of those around them." And a nod, at Cidra's estimation of how she views the air wing, "We are a family forged of will and like minds, as strong as any family forged by blood."
"We fight and fly and die together, and that is no small thing. If I had my choice, I would choose no others for it than the pieces I have here to do it with. I love you all," Cidra says. Simply, and admitted soft, but with deep feeling. It is not the sort of thing the CAG admits…ever, basically. Not while clear-eyed, at least. But she seems to feel the need now. She clears her throat. "You have been well-forged, Lieutenant. And I have no doubt you shall wear those well. Dismissed. And good hunting."
"And yours love you, Major. That is why we fight for you, and when duty and need requires, we die for you." And more than a few have given their lives in Major Hahn's service whether by her will or no. "Thank you, Major. Fair winds and full sails." As traditional a parting as she can offer. An honest one as she can give, which is pretty damned honest. But dismissed she is, and Leyla steps back, before she turns away, heading back to the ship proper.
Cidra looks not quite sure if she believes that or not. But it does bring that bare hint of a smile to her lips. And a somberness to her cloudy blue eyes as well. But all she offers in parting is "Clear eyes and steady hands, Sweet Pea." She lingers in the Ready Room after the lieutenant goes, eyes going out over the all those chairs. "I love you all," she murmurs again, to herself.