BCH #014: Ensigns: 1, Basestar: 0
Ensigns:1, Basestar:0
Summary: Daphne and Tisiphone take their first spin in the Cerberus's sim pods.
Date: 2041.02.11 AE
Related Logs: None
Daphne Tisiphone 

Dude, did you hear? The frakking Galley burned down! The word is spreading fast through the ship, as more and more of the crew go for meals and are shunted off to makeshift cafeterias full of sub-par food.

Tisiphone slept late this morning. She hasn't slept in once since coming aboard, but this morning the curtains remained shut while you went about your morning business. Now, she's on her way out of the berths, looking like she's trying to sneak out after curfew. Slinking. She's even got the hood up on her hooded sweatshirt, as if trying for anonymity. Dry, hacking coughs trail along with her.

Daphne is Activity Lass, moving briskly through the corridors on her way back to the berthings. She's even got a clipboard in her hand. And then she runs into Her. Daph stops for a moment as if making sure it's really her friend under there, and then steps in front of her, "Tis. You look like the morning after shore leave." Amusement in her voice doesn't do a very good job of masking concern, "Are you okay? What happened?"

Tis doesn't stop. She reaches out, puts hands firmly to Daphne's shoulders, and attempts to turn her and keep marching her down the stairs and Away From The Berths. "Not here. Keep going." The last time she acted like this, one of her less-favourite flight school rivals was about to wake up with his hand in a bowl of warm water, having just pissed his bed.

Once two more flights of stairs are put between her and the berths, Tisiphone will come to a stop. "Frak. Let's do something. I'm going frakking stircrazy." Her voice is scratchy, her eyes viciously bloodshot. Realizing she won't be allowed to go Do Something until some curiousity is appeased, she rasps conspiratorially, "Three guesses who was eating when the frakking galley burned down last night." And the first two don't count.

"Are you dying of boredom?" asks Daphne with a skeptical eye as she's directed away from the berthings and in the direction of anything else. "Oh." She stops moving, "Oh shit." and then she turns towards her, "Holy frak. I heard about that. What the hell happened? Are you alright? You look like hades!"

"Nobody. Will. Frakking. Leave. Me. ALONE." Tis looks a little cagey. It took nearly all of Flight School before she could tolerate one of those 'hug' things, even from Daphne. "Wake up. Arkili's right there with tea. Nostos with coffee. The frakking medicator came in to check me. Frakking-" Frakkity frak frak, with a lovely frakky garnish. She heaves a sigh, which turns into a long, wincing cough. "'m fine. There were-" A glance around, conspiratorial again. "Daphne. The kitchen blew. People got their frakking faces burned off. Me, I'm like I got slapped with a frying pan and smoked a bale of ragweed. It's frakking nothing." Comparatively, at least. It would be easier to shrug off if she didn't still smell a bit like Burned Things What Should Never Have Burned.

Daphne is used to this from her, so she just takes a few steps away from her and continues down the corridor, though it's impossible to hide the look of shock and confusion on her face, no matter how hard she tries. "How… how could that even happen. THis is a battlestar. This is the colonial navy. Are you s…" She WAS going to ask 'are you sure', but doesn't bother to finish the question, since the other pilot's obviously pretty damned sure. "That's… holy shit. But you're okay." She covers her mouth with her hands, "Zeus' thunder. That's horrible."

"I think they had some sort of huge grill added to the kitchen. All the fancy food for the civilians, yah? It was a grease fire. Bunch of smoke. The- head cook, whatever. Came out, yelling at one of the cooks. Went back in, I thought it was sorted. Lights flickered. Then it blew." Tisiphone curls restless fingers around the back of her neck, and bounces a little on the balls of oher feet. "I think-" She shares a half-wry, half-worried look with Daphne. "I think they're bringing it out of dry dock too soon. But." Sigh. "Wanna do something?"

"Winterson nearly got electrocuted the day before I got here." admits Daphne with a cringe. "Then there was that… that -disaster- while we were picking you up and the Mesotanker blew… and this." She glances to her friend, "You know, I'm sort of not so sure that being on a brand new ship is quite as awesome as I thought. This place is really, really accident prone. Are they sure we're actually ready to leave? We might get a few million kilimeters out and then need a tow truck or something." Her chuckle is dim and hollow. She'd never have spoken about a battlestar like this while she was in school. She made them sound like holy temples the way she went on about them. "Sure. Let's… do something. I'm just glad you're okay, but now I'm worried about whatever happened to everyone else. You wanna hit the sims? The Captain let me off the hook for having that engine blow on me, but told me to hit the sims for brush-up."

And if Daphne, military brat extraordinaire, thought they were holy temples, who was a backwater Sagittaran nutter to disbelieve? Tisiphone's mouth has an unhappy quirk at one corner as she looks down, nudging an invisible bit of rubble toward the corner with a booted toe. "So when they rolled their eyes at us and said 'you'll see' and we thought they were full of it, I guess they were right, eh?" She coughs again, shakes her head. "Frak it. Sims. Medicator said I'm on light duty, but they count."

Daphne sighs, "Yeah. Maybe. This doesn't seem right, Tis. Fire in the galley. That's just… I hope those guys got in some serious trouble for all the shit they must've caused." She continues down the steps. "Alright. Sims. Want to fly two on two?" She shakes her head, obviously still creeped out by what she was told, but sucking it in, regardless.

Tisiphone suddenly chuckles, humour flickering in reddened eyes. "Frak. Daphne. That head cook? Fra-a-ak. I nearly saluted from thirty yards back. Dude was angry. Shout your frakking hair right off." Pale brows lift, and she deliberately rubs her head. Luckily, she can avoid such fates. She trails along in silence for a while before saying, "Yeah. Sounds good. Flip you for wingman?"

After what is actually an almost maze-like journey through the battlestar, Daphne and Tisiphone manage to reach the simulator pods. Daph signs in, then steps inside of the room, which contains rows and rows of pods. "That's, uh…" Her eyes widen a bit. There's the simulators they used at flight school, and then there's these things. They look very, very new. Top of the line, latest and greatest. "Holy shit." Her eyes practically gleam, problems with the ship temporarily forgotten, "Look at these things. Is that an MRX220?" She just stares at the pods, then runs her fingertips over the body of one of them, as if it were a powerful animal or, well, something. "Holy. Frak."

Tisiphone is nowhere near as giddy as Daphne, but she's still visibly impressed. "Frak me running. If I knew they had these, I would've been in here already." Mood improved, she looks sidelong to her friend and says, all full of mock-seriousness, "We're going to have to test them all, you realize." Quick, toothy grin.

"I'd say that's, uh… pretty accurate." Daphne reaches into her pocket and produces a small, octogonal coin adorned with engravings of some greek god or goddess. "Call it in the air. Heads or tails." She flicks her thumb and sends the coin tumbling end over end into mid air.

Tis watches the coin tumble through the air for several moments, tongue-tip to bottom lip, as if she's able to accurately predict the toss's outcome. She doesn't call it until the coin is close to landing, and then: "Heads!" Anticipatory grin. She knows she's right.

Aaaand… "Tails. Get in, flygirl." Daphne's satisfied smirk vanishes behind the cockpit as she climbs into one of the pods and slides the canopy shut. Depending on how long it takes Tisiphone to get inside, she may miss some of what follows across the comm, though there's a few moments before she's figured enough out to say anything at all: «Testing. Testing. Testing. Cadet Kolettis, Daphne, serial number 1923987298 for flight trial zero one sigma, ready to proceed, over.» This is followed by a howl of laughter. «This thing is awesome. Are you on feed? Seriously.»

Enjoy the momentary look of crushed confidence while it lasts, because it's soon replaced on Tisiphone's face with toothy anticipation. She clambers into the pod to the left of Daphne's, a little akwardly — cabin fever doesn't make the stiffness and pain go away. She's slower to get hooked up than Daphne, but once she does: « Test, test-test. Rear Admiral Apostolos accompanying Pitiful Ensign Kolettis… » Laughter over the headset. « Ho-ly frak. Are we the first ones to use these things? »

« I don't know, but it's got to be close! Hang on. Let me see what this thing has on it. Oh, here we go. » Images flit across the cockpit area, finally settling on a starfield, putting both pilots in vipers. Tisiphone's viper is a bit behind Daphne's, and positioned on her five-o-clock spot, effectively in a flying formation with Daphne in lead. « I guess we're supposed to go through preflight or something, but forget that. Figure, what? Two raiders? »

« Frakking FAN-tastic… » Tisiphone's still gawking. « Wow. Oka- ouch. Sec. » Finding a comfortable sitting posture is proving difficult, too. « Okay. I'm…ah. Ready, O Mighty Leader. Bring unto us some raiders, that we may send them to frakkin' Hades, already. »

« Okay, uh… » A few targets flit into view, as well. For a moment, the two vipers are in front of an immense basestar from the old war. « C'mon! We can take them! Are you with me?? Oh, wait. I'll bet they track stats on these. » She flits the basestar off, and there are immediately two contacts on Tisiphone's DRADIS. Daphne's, too. She does the honors. « Zero Two DRADIS contacts, bearing zero zero niner carom zero zero zero. » Her viper sways a bit to portside. There's time for planning, but not too much. The two cylon relics are swooping in, and fast. They peel off, one going port and the other going starboard. « Looks like there's one for each of us. Going in hot, stay tight. » She's lining up towards target alpha, the one heading for her.

The appearance of the basestar rewards Daphne with a deafening cackle. « Oh FRAK YES! Do it! Do- » Excitement takes back seat for another coughing fit. The mention of stats-tracking brings her back to seriousness. « Frak. We're not going to get reamed for not doing pre-flight, are we? » And then it's Sim Time for reals. « Roger. Staying tight, starboard. Call the target. » Tisiphone's viper follows close behind.

The cylons are getting closer. They fire a few 'warning shots' which hit nothing, but nor are they meant to. «I sure hope not. Designated target alpha bearing one three four carom two one six…» Her voice is obscured by the 'sound' of her own engines and especially her guns. « Break and attack. Break and attack. » Her craft rolls hard to one side and attempts to get behind the cylon targeting her.

Tisiphone fires a shave-and-a-haircut burst of gunfire in response. She may or may not have giggled while doing so — the com channels were NOT left open for it. « Target alpha acquired. Breaking to attack, port low. » Her viper slides out from behind Daphne's, swooping down and wide to the left.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone attacks Alpha with KEW - ARMOR on Right Wing stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Daphne attacks Alpha with KEW but MISSES!
<COMBAT> Beta attacks Tisiphone with KEW - Moderate wound to Cockpit.
<COMBAT> Alpha attacks Daphne with KEW and MISSES!

Shots streak in seemingly every direction as the cylon drones break and attack, just like the humans in the simulator do. They split up, with one raider attacking each pilot. Daphne's craft swings around and attempts to lock target alpha into a death pincer, with her coming in high and Tisiphone coming in low. Shots streak past Daphne's canopy, narrowly missing her. Her own shots streak wide, as well. Not her finest moment. While this is happening, the cylon after Tisiphone dogs her across the starscape, finally managing to send a volley of hot magnesium rounds streaking directly through her cockpit. Life Support alarms go off as the cockpit pretends to depressurize.

« Apostolos, are you green? » Daphne's viper comes around, attempting to shake the cylon she's caught in a veritable furball with. « Check six. Bandit beta is on you bearing one six four carom one one niner. »

Tisiphone's viper swings out wide and, as she and Daphne converge on the first raider, she squeezes off a quick burst of fire, trying to catch it before it twists into evasive maneuvers. Too slow — the bullets meet wing at such an oblique angle they skip off harmlessly into space. « Fr-r-rak… » Better shot next time, kiddo.

Except, as far as the sim's concerned, she deserves no next time — her cockpit shrieks and flashes as she tries to twist her viper into evasive actions. « Canopy hit. Canopy hit! » The sim even goes staticky, starts cutting her voice out. « -ta's right on my ass. Evasive actions. Bearing two seven zero carom zero nine zero. » She's jinking hard left and up.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone attacks Alpha with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Daphne attacks Alpha with KEW - Serious wound to Cockpit.
<COMBAT> Beta attacks Tisiphone with KEW - Serious wound to Cockpit.
<COMBAT> Alpha attacks Daphne with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Raider-7371y has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Alpha has been KO'd!

« Can you stay or do you need to return to base? » A proper flight lead might be a little more assertive than this. Of course, Daphne's a wet behind the ears rookie, so what does she know? The cylon chasing after Tisiphone smacks her again, and -hard-, doing enough damage that quite a few of the systems on her dashboard switch off to represent damage taken. The concept of anything like an atmosphere inside of the viper becomes a fargone conclusion, or would if it were real. Daphne does likewise to the other raider. Tisiphone set him up, and Daphne takes him down. She swings hard, burning tyllium fuel like it's going out of style as she jams on the overthrusters. « Splash one. New target beta. W… what's your status? »

There's no response for several long seconds, despite the fact Tisiphone's viper is still engaged in evasive maneuvers. Finally, through crackling, popping static: « -tegrity green. Readouts black. No cab- » More words are lost. « -injured. Don't know how. Frakkin' concrete canop- » Snapcracklie, pop. « -taining evasive maneuvers, bearing one three five carom one eight zero. » The viper starts to twist and double back on itself. « -it before I suck vacuum already. »

<COMBAT> Daphne attacks Beta with KEW - Light wound to Weapon.
<COMBAT> Tisiphone attacks Beta with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Beta attacks Tisiphone with KEW - Moderate wound to Nose (Reduced by Armor).

Injured? Daphne's first thought, and it's obvious in her tone, is to reality. « Bandit bearing two zero seven carom two four niner. » Of course, the obviousness of the situation kicks in pretty quick: It's just a sim. «Have target…» Shots strike against the old-skool raider's guns, bending one of them such that the next time it fires, smoke spills from it, as well as a few pieces. One gun down. There's… more. That's not going to help the situation very much. « Evade. Evade. Evade.» The Raider, down a gun, tears into Tisiphone's viper's nose. This is, at least, an improvement. Instead of ventilating the cockpit, it's gone farther north. Maybe there's just not that left to shoot.

This is getting ridiculous, already. Tisiphone is performing some sort of absurd Aerilon rodeo clown routine, keeping the furiously single-minded raider busy while her ship disintegrates around her. The static is getting worse, and the patches of transmission are more klaxon than voice. There's an obnoxious high-pitched feedback whine that builds the longer she speaks, too. « -ding from my own frakking evading. This is- » Blessed silence for a few, then another burst: « -dy! Frak it-t-t… Repeat, zero four five carom zero- » Well. That discounts /half/ the universe, at least.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone attacks Beta with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Beta attacks Tisiphone with KEW - Light wound to Body (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Daphne attacks Beta with KEW - Moderate wound to Right Wing (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Viper-9870x has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Tisiphone has been KO'd!

Daphne is hot on the tail of the thing attempting to turn her wingmate into kibble. She gets a good shot on it, tearing chunks off of the right wing, but not before it gets some personal insight into the internals of hull of Tisiphone's viper. Alarms go off in her cockpit: ~~EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT. EJECT…~~ The ship is coming to pieces and preparing to (virtually) fireball. « Apostolos, status check. Do you read me? » She basically has to ask if she's okay, though obviously nothing is -really- happening. Meanwhile, the cylon turns on the remaining viper.

At long last, the rodeo clown goes left when she should've gone right, and takes a trip over the bull's horns and under its hooves. « -known heading zero three five carom zero zero zero. » It's hard to be sure through all the chaos and distortion, but Tisiphone's voice may be shaking a little. « EJE- » The chair-and-pilot assembly hurtle away from the fireballing Viper.

<COMBAT> Daphne attacks Beta with KEW - Moderate wound to Weapon.
<COMBAT> Beta attacks Daphne with KEW - Moderate wound to Left Wing (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Daphne attacks Beta with KEW - Light wound to Right Wing (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Beta attacks Daphne with KEW - Moderate wound to Left Wing (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Raider-1771y has been KO'd!
<COMBAT> Beta has been KO'd!

«C-Copy that, Apostolos. Hang tight, please.» Losing her wingmate looks just as bad as getting shot down, personally. Possibly a little worse. The furball continues minus one viper, with Daphne's portside wing taking hit after hit. There's not much left to it, and her flying is just ugly at this point, but she does manage to take out the AI pilot, in the end. While Tisiphone's flying might be predictable due to the direction she favors, Daphne's is predictable because she does everything completely by the book, as if improvising might get her in some sort of trouble. The sim pods open and she exhales, turning towards Tisiphone. "Yeah. So…"

Tisiphone's sim pod opens to reveal a pale, sweaty face. She looks a bit nauseated. "It spins you when you eject," she notes eventually. "What the frak? I thought we were pilots. He took a frakking can opener to me like I wasn't even moving."

"It spins?" Daphne's not terribly amused, herself. She climbs out of the pod enough to rest her hands on her knees. "Maybe I had it set too high. Or they just got lucky. You held it together for a while, though. I've got no idea what happened. I think we just frakked it up somehow. This is just going to be the most glorious beginning to our careers. I can tell. Your ass gets lit on fire, I have an engine blow up in my face, and then we get our asses kicked in the simulators. At least we got them."

"Like… the whole sim. It didn't stop when I ejected. It spun the whole map. Left me drifting until you called it. Frakkin' intense." Tisiphone's voice cracks; clears her throat, then breaks into a coughing fit. "You got some good shots though. All I did was fly around with a target on my canopy. FRAK!" She slams the sim console hard enough to rattle herself. Breathing hard, she just stares at her fists for a second or ten. As suddenly as it was there, she slumps back and says, "Frak it. There's only one way to avenge ourselves." Pause. "Load up the frakkin' basestar."

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