| Coping |
| Summary: | Cidra and Tillman talk following the relay strike mission. Conversation eventually turns to the less duty-related subject of one Captain Margaret Quinn. |
| Date: | 18 Apr 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Down But Not Out |
| 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: #51 |
Cidra is showered and changed following the operation. Albeit into duty greens rather than officer blues. She's not long for the on-duty world, but there are some odds and ends to tie up. Chat with the XO being one of them. So here she reports, idly running her fingers through her still-damp ruddy brown hair.
Tillman is still rockin his blues from a long day in CIC and wanders down the side of the room's stadium seating as he unbuttons his tunic. If someone didn't know better it might look a little more.. ahem. "Hey Cid. Heard you guys had a rough go of it out there." He takes his time on the approach, yawning. "Let's keep this informal because I've about had all I can deal with as far as protocol today." He moves to flop into a chair in the front row.
"Clive. As you will." Cidra sinks into a chair adjacent to him, legs crossed, turning so they can talk easily. The woman rarely flops. Her polite manners were ingrained in her much deeper than anything OCS can manage. "It was a rough ride, I'll not deny it. We did not anticipate facing missile fire from those turrets and my Vipers took some heavy hits. Three planes lost. Four really for the moment, as Captain Laskaris' Viper shall require quite substantial repairs. And Bunny's Raptor took a beating on entry as well. But we had no casualties, thank all gods."
Tillman nods to it, running a hand across his forehead. "Yeah. Kulko said that your SAR abilities were amazing despite the hits still taken." He deflates a bit and leans back in the chair, looking to her. "So. He also mentioned that you guys also tried to engage multiple gun stations at once. You know you only had to take out two of 'em, right? Shoulda opened up a hole large enough to provide the Raptor access."
"It is most simple to should have that now, yes," Cidra replies. "We did not expect to face that kind of fire and or that the turrets would take repeated hits to disable. There armourment was also more than we had expected. Could my pilots have focused fire more effectively? Yes. Many pieces of the op could have been more effective."
Clive shuts his eyes. "Gods. How come I can't get chairs like this in CIC?" he asides. "Yeah. I know. Kulko planned the whole thing himself. He needed the experience. He's got a sharp mind and I need him trained in case something happens to me or we lose some of our experienced planning staff." He clears his throat. "But see 'bout getting your sticks to focus their fire. The rest.." He waves a hand. "I can wait for the AAR. I don't need a debriefing right now. But did want to hit you on something else - in regards to all those munitions from Parn. Can't remember if we talked about them?"
"The operation was completed successfully," Cidra says. "The loss of the planes shall not go easy for us now, with the fabrication facilities damaged, but I would rather lose planes than people. And we accomplished what we set out to accomplish. As I told Lieutenant Kulko, I am mindful enough of that state of things to know this to be a win, as these days go." So she's seen the new lieutenant, then. A nod to that last. "I've reviewed the tallies. The aircraft munitions, of course, shall be put to good use by my people. I shall see that my pilots are drilled in the take and their possible use." A pause. "I noted some of the mines were salvaged." It's noted very mildly.
"I told Kulko during his debrief that he was damned lucky nobody got killed and that its not something he should expect. I don't think he needs to be told how important it is, though, that everyone comes home." The XO opens his eyes. "Yep. I'm sure you will. But we took a lot of stuff off that station that, as I understand it, we can't even use. Especially those cruise missiles." He lets that hang. "Look, I went and talked to Petty Officer Damon down on the Deck today. I'm putting him in charge of the security of those tactical nuclear weapons. Told him to make sure the Marines are standing over them twenty-four horus a day. But I also told him that I was going to have the CAG send someone down to talk to him. Anything that can be modified for use, try and get a member of your aircrew down there to consult. I doubt we'll be able to make use of all it, though. Especially with our facilities still down. Not lookin' for miracles from your boys and girls, either. 'Least, not more than you have already delivered."
"We'll do what we can," Cidra says. "Perhaps some of what we salvaged can be used to make repairs to the fabrication area. Engineering's worked more difficult endeavors before."
"That'd be a nice break but I'm not counting on it. Anyhow, just send someone down to find Damon. See about getting those weapons systems operational. I saw we got some of those old-ass door guns left over from the first war. Don't know how much action we'll be seeing inside atmo, but they might come in handy if we have to go there. If you want to futz with your Raptors to get 'em installed, go for it. We also grabbed those buddy stores for refueling. No tellin' how long we might have to ask some of our people to fly in the coming months. Might do some good to get some practice in there, too." He rubs at his eyes, pinching the bidge of his nose eventually. "There was something else but frakked if I can remember what it was."
"We'll see it done," Cidra says simply. Head tilted. Regarding Tillman, gaze a littler softer than it normally is. Sympathetic. "Perhaps you should get some sleep, Clive. You know where you can find me."
Tillman chuckles, suddenly remembering what the last thing was. "Thanks for the reminder." He clears his throat once more and when he looks back to her, there's something more personal about him, too. "I ah, well. You probably already know. You've seen us. I've been spending a lot of time with Captain Quinn. Things are a little more than just friends, Cid. Don't know if there's somethin you wanted to say on it or not."
"I did get that impression, yes," Cidra replies, as to Quinn. Very hard to tell her opinion on that relationship. The woman is inscrutably difficult to read when she wants to be. She could probably win decent money at Triad with that face. "Honestly? I am surprised. It is very quick, Clive." There is concern in her tone. For him, not for Quinn. "I know things are very hard right now. We are all searching for connections and…well. It is none of my business, really. Gods knows I've no right to criticise someone for…finding comfort however they can."
Tillman doesn't look away, though he nods. Its probably something he was expecting. "I know. So does she. I'm not going to lament my case as if its my way of grieving. I- I dunno. Maybe in some ways it is. But its complex. Mostly because she reminds me so much of my wife. They look nothing alike but hearing her talk and her mannerisms? Its calming ..and reassuring. Like that maybe things will be okay." He finally does look away and gives a light shrug. "We're not dating. We're not in love. We're just coping I guess. I just didn't want you to get any wrong impressions or rumors. If you ever think I'm showing her some kind of preference, take me aside and tell me though? Please? Or if you have a problem with it, let me know. I don't want to screw with your wing, Cid. You all are too damned important."
"Clive, after Daedrek died…" Cidra's husband. Viper pilot. Killed some ten years ago in a flight accident. She almost never speaks of him, but the soft way her Gemenese-tinted alto wraps around his name makes it clear he's rarely absent from her thoughts. "…I was not right with myself for a very long time and I…I did some things and treated some people in ways that…well. That time lives with me as a very dark one. All I can do is try and be right with the honor of his memory and with the gods now. I hope this does not…I hope you find comfort in it and your grieving does not turn it into something harder. Both of you." As for the Wing, she waves a long-fingered hand. "If Command has no problem with it I've no call to. There is a good deal of separation between you and the Captain. It shall have little bearing on my dealings with her. There may be rumors but…well. You are both adults. Deal with those as you will."
Clive looks to her as the name of her husband is brought up. Probably not expected. "I think about my family every day. I imagine most of us do. Sometimes I want to think they're someplace better but I hit that conflict with religion. It drives me nuts. I'm not proud of.. No. Wrong way to say that." He sighs. "I'm not ashamed of what's going on with Mags and I. I like to think and rationalize that my wife would understand. On some levels I believe she would. But.. Like you said. All I can do is try to honor the memory. I don't even know what happened to them. With all the crazy shit that happened leading up to it? I sent a letter home about a week before the attacks. Told my family to get off Scorpia and try to get to my in-laws on Gemenon." To the rest, he shakes his head. "I think Trask knows. I imagine Evan does, too. We're not hiding anything. As for Command not having a problem? I am Command. My opinions are probably a bit skewed. Just- if it crosses any lines, let me know. I'm doing my best to make sure its kosher but I might miss something."
"You've not made the Admiral aware of this, then?" Brow arched. "Ahh." Released simply with a nod. Cidra renders many an opinion through those soft 'Ahh's of hers that her good manners perhaps keep her from being more blunt about. "As I said, from a professional point of view as it relates to the Wing, I've not a problem with it. For the rest…those are things you must come to terms with yourself, Clive. I hope you find some comfort, and some peace, as I said. I hope that for all of us."
The man shakes his head. "Abbots in the dark. Might call it avoidance, but I'm going to say that its not a big deal unless someone makes it a big deal. The only blessing I'm looking for is yours. She's your Captain." Tillman's still looking to the floor, though absently. He's got a lot on his plate - just like everyone else. "Comfort is about all we can hope for. Peace? Its a nice idea but I'm not gettin' my hopes up. Hopefully, like you said, the rest of the crew can find it. Including you, Cid." He finally looks back to her and smiles. "Thanks. Anyhow, I'm gonna get some rack. If you're mixin' the crews, you'll probably be seeing more of me. ..Stay safe." He hesitates a moment as if he might say something else before rising from the chair.
"Such things are only issues if one feels there is reason to hide them," Cidra says. In that obliquely chiding I'm-Not-Telling-You-What-You-Should-Do-But…sort of way. She could've made a decent schoolmarm. Or priestess. But she lets it lie at that. As for peace for herself, her eyes drop from his to her hands. "We all cope as we can. A good eve, Clive." She lets him go at that. She'll linger here awhile, for her part.