PHD #297: Debriefed
Debriefed
Summary: Cidra touches base, and exchanges words, with the Areion's XO after the attack over Tauron.
Date: 20 Dec 2041 AE
Related Logs: Pressure Points - Air Wing
Players:
Cidra Riederer 
Map Room - Deck 7 - Battlestar Cerberus
The hatchway opens into a dimly lit corridor, stark grey walls now and again painted with some mural appropriate to the religious season, stretching from floor to ceiling and then sloping down away from the ceiling in two triangular forms that bracket off the tiered seating areas to either side. Straight ahead, in the center of an open space, stands a simple rectangular altar, the emblems of the Lords thereupon arrayed to receive sacrifice in the tall room when the altar isn't decked for some more specific use. Hestia, who is not vouchsafed her own emblem on the altar, is etched in relief on one side of the altar itself, shown tending the hearth in her usual fashion. In the wall behind the open area are three evenly spaced hatchways which can only be opened and closed from the inside. The small cubicles behind each hatchway are each furnished with a small altar against the back wall, upon which sometimes the dark shape of a sacred object can be discerned even from the tiered seating for visiting on the sacral days. The hatches can be closed to block out profane eyes from rites they were not meant to see. The walls between each little cubicle can be retracted to create a larger space for more well-attended mysteries.
Post-Holocaust Day: #297

With the Navy Offices irradiated - not to mention the chance of being spaced if the hull fails on that deck - Cidra has relocated a good part of her planning operations to the Map Room. She presently has the run of the place, LCD screen lit up with a display of Tauron high orbit. She's moving Vipers and Raptors around a plotting table with a slim frown on her lips. She's still in her flight gear, ready to go up at a moment's notice, though she must not have been called to it for awhile.

"Good evening, Major." Lieutenant Colonel Alke Riederer's cultured alto precedes the long shadow she casts across the plotting table. She's as impeccably dressed as always, her blonde hair done up in a professional-looking bun; the room's dim light glints off her polished brass pins and the plain silver band she wears on the fourth finger of her left hand. "I play three territory cards for a squadron of Vipers on Caprica City. Roll defense die."

"Are we playing Colonial Domination?" Uptick Cidra's cloudy blues eyes, posture straightening from its languid slouch when she spots Riederer. "Ah. Colonel. You would be better off building a block using Libran, Scorpia and Virgon. More points in the end, and not so hard to keep as Caprica. If less glamorous. In any case. If you are in search of Major Tillman or the Colonel I believe the former is in CIC and the latter in his stateroom. Or the other way 'round."

"You know what they say: never get into a land war in the central belt." The driest of dry retorts. "And your command staff is otherwise occupied," says Riederer, not minding in the least the fact that Cidra hasn't saluted. With what, she doesn't say. As she gets closer, the bags underneath her eyes become clear: not a woman for makeup, this one, though her disdain for the stuff means she can't pretend to have had a good night's sleep. "I'm here for you, actually." Her severe expression softens as she grabs a cue from the bottom of the plotting table, shifting three Mark VII models into intercept position at the top-right-most corner. "Tango's holding a memorial for her men. I'm to debrief you instead."

"I hope you will convey all honors to their service, from me to her," Cidra says. No trace of make-up on her face, either. Lines and tired circles growing more and more evident by the day. Though she has managed to grab a shower at some point not too long ago. "I attempted to get a word with her when I was docked on the Areion, but I quite understand if she was occupied at the time." She leaves it at that.

"She was." Absently, Riederer detaches a single bird from the formation and thrusts it forward, lining it up like a cue ball on the tail of a Raptor bearing the insignia of VAQ-141. "I'm sure Papa's already conveyed your regrets." An oblique little smile plays across her cracked lips. "Was it the felt hat?"

Cidra's eyes widen a notch. Just a notch. A hint of color might just creep into her cheeks. It might. "I like hats," is her oblique reply. Ahem. "I have not had a chance to speak with Lieutenant Colonel Baer in detail since disembarking the Areion, beyond a bit of logistical chatter via wireless. The coordination of our CAP runs does seem to be going smoothly, however. Do convey to him my compliments." Her gaze follows Riederer's toying with her little ships.

"I shall." Riederer's face is the very picture of innocence, though she does acknowledge Cidra's little reply with a delicate cough she covers with a handkerchief. "He asked me to tell you that your pilots are improving." Just like that, the conversation pivots. "We didn't expect the amplification field to hold as well as it did." Which, Cidra will recall, it didn't — not really, after two Screwtops died under the protection of the Black Knights. "Our simulations made us expect more Raptor casualties in your sector. So. Keep on the good work."

"I shall." Riederer's face is the very picture of innocence, though she does acknowledge Cidra's little reply with a delicate cough she covers with a handkerchief. "He asked me to tell you that your pilots are improving." Just like that, the conversation pivots. "We didn't expect the amplification field to hold as well as it did." Which, Cidra will recall, it didn't — not really, after two Screwtops died under the protection of the Black Knights. "Our simulations made us expect more Raptor casualties in your sector. So. Keep up the good work."

Cidra's eyes narrow at the word 'improving.' She did not like that descriptor very much. "I hope we are learning to more seamlessly fly together, his and mine. There is ever a learning curve. This shall be speeded as we undertake more joint operations and cease to function as separate units sharing the same patrol space. My regret is that the net did not hold entirely. Your Gun takes a good deal of time and intense focus to prepare, though I cannot say I fault its results. Though I confess I still do not understand how it works entirely."

"I'm not sure how it works, either." If Alke understands the response she's elicited from the battlestar's CAG, she doesn't show it, though that handkerchief remains over her lips. "All I know is that it does, which is more than I could have said ten months ago." Insofar as there weren't any Cylons in the Cyrannus System ten months ago, this is technically a true statement. "You flew one of ours out there. Raptors, I mean." Another conversational pivot. "Did you or your ECO encounter any difficulties? If so, I'd like to hear them. I've asked Tango to put together a manual for the amplifier mods our crew's made to our birds, and any suggestions you might have would be most useful. Once that's finalized, Rudy intends to move forward with plans to equip your Raptors' EW suites with the same capabilities."

"My ECO can probably tell you better than I in terms of the fine points. The main of its differences do seem to be in its electronic warfare capabilities. I was honestly surprised there were not *more* differences in its handling than our standard Raptor." Cidra's brows arch a notch at Riederer's claimed ignorance in regard to how the Gun works. Still, she doesn't press. "Indeed, it does show much promise. I would not like to roll out all our birds with that equipment right away, however. I would prefer to see how our Raptors take to it. Preliminarily, I would like to equip our Early Elevens squadron entire with them, and a smaller number of our Harriers, so we can compare and contrast how the mechanism effects overall combat operations. I shall confer with my squadron leaders and coordinate with Commander Kepner and Papa shortly."

"That'll do. Keep me apprised of your schedule, bearing in mind how important it is to get our respective wings on the same page. We're not exactly in the best tactical situation right now, and the sooner we maximize our capabilities the better. But you know this." That's the first concession Areion's XO makes to Cidra's expertise. Riederer rocks forward, using the rubberized base of her cue as a makeshift cane. A hand rises to sweep a lock of hair out from her face as she examines the Viper-chasing-Raptor scene she's created for herself on the table. "One more thing. I understand that the stress of battle can be overwhelming, but we are still a military and our procedures must be followed. Which is to say, Major: leash your ECO."

"We shall not be able to roll forward with any full refit effort until our technical crews have their hands less full in any case," Cidra says. "But I shall keep you apprised. I am curious to get Major Foxley and Lieutenant Colonel Baer's take on the long-term use of those amplifiers in particular. Have you found it puts any long-term stress on equipment? Any notable degradation in other systems?" But she's less asking the woman than spinning those questions out of her head. "In any case, we shall see it sorted in its time." As for the last. Blue eyes narrow at Riederer, though her expression remains carefully schooled. "You are referring to my Lieutenant Trask's verbal…I believe the term is 'pissing match,' yes? With Commander Kepner via the wireless? I found the whole episode embarrassing and distracting in a situation where it could not be afforded, and he shall be reprimanded as befits. But I shall thank you not to presume to tell me how to manage my personnel. Sir."

"Of course." Riederer fixes Cidra with a disinterested gaze more suitable for a queen talking to a subject than a superior talking to a subordinate — testament to the haughtiness that comes so easily to her. "Manage it sooner rather than later." Oh, two can play at the 'getting prickly' game. "We'll be in touch." And unless Cidra stops her, she makes for the hatch, pausing only to re-rack her cue beneath the table.

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