| Evolutionary Hiccups |
| Summary: | A weary Evandreus, Tisiphone and Marko talk about the ins and outs of genocide and hiccup cures |
| Date: | 09 Mar 2041 |
| Related Logs: | All that's happened previously. |
| Players: |
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[ Raptor Squadron ] [ Naval Deck - Battlestar Cerberus ]
The Raptor squadron pilots and ECO's call this place home.
Berths line the walls with a locker between each one. A table and chairs sit in the center and there is a hatch to the Pilots Head, which connects to the Viper Squadron Berthings.
[ Condition Level: 2 - Danger Close ]
Evandreus lies languishing in his bunk, curtain open, pilot writhing in just a pair of sweatpants. His bruising has cleared up nicely to some muted patches of yellow-brown along his chest. He finds a few minutes of peaceful respite, eyes closed, before— HIC! he grimaces and groans in the wake of the spasm, turning to his side. HIC! Back to his back again. This marks the eighteenth hour of his fit of hiccups, and it's rapidly becoming no longer funny.
A more than slightly bedraggled Marko, head still wet from a shower and dressed in regulation sweat clothes, comes staggering into Raptor country with a cup of coffee in one hand and a pile of notes in the other. The hiccup gets his attention almost instantly, and he winces as he notes where it's coming from. Hiccups for Bunny, with all the beating he took recently, cannot be fun. "You okay in there, Bunny?" he calls.
"Uhhhghhh," is the Bunny's pained reply, arms folded low over his chest as he kicks a bare foot out toward the foot of his bunk, the other knee raised a little. "How much would you take to come hold a pillow down over my face?" he groans to the ECO. HIC! The unrelenting procession of hiccups continues its assault on the pilot.
"Eh, I dunno about that one, but maybe I could get you some water or something?" Marko asks. "I got some coffee here if you think it'll help any." he offers, extending his cup to his fellow ECO. "How long have you had those, anyway?" he asks, sounding concerned. "Cause if they're hurting that bad…Maybe we oughta get you to sick bay?"
Intruder! Intruder! Enter one (1) Viper jock by the name of Tisiphone. She doesn't even step in completely — just sort of snakes halfway through the hatch, le-e-eaning in around the threshold with a rather tentative expression. "Wait a second. I distinctly remember being told there were candy machines in here."
"I drank two liters of water earlier," Evan lets Marko know, rolling onto his side again, grabbing his pillow up under him, resting his chest against it, "Then tried to stop breathing for like an hour. I've had them since last night. I've been out on CAP twice. Next time I'm decompressing the cabin when I get out there. Maybe that'll help," he mutters. HIC! "Auuugggh," he notes, peeking about toward the hatch, "That's the only way we can get people in to visit us."
"Heh, how do you think the Fleet conned me into ECO school?" Marko asks with a chuckle. "Damned recruiter lied to me." he smirks. "How's it going Money?" he asks. "Was just tending to one of our fallen comrades here." he says nodding to the hiccuping Evan. "Damn….that's almost twenty four hours, Buns!" he says blinking in surprise. "Maybe we really ought to get you to sick bay." he says, sounding more concerned than previously. "There's gotta be something wrong with….Frak, I dunno…something."
No alarm klaxons, no poisoned dart guns — Tisiphone deems it safe to enter, and so she does. There's a quick glance behind her before she closes the hatch partway. Can't be seen hiccuping with the enemy, and all. "What?" she says, crossing toward Evan and Marko with many a curious glance swept 'round the room. "Twenty-four hours of hiccups?"
Evandreus gives a quick count-up, "Eighteen. Closing in on it." Deep breath in. Slow breath out. "If it goes a full twenty four I'm going to the s'bay. If it goes another twenty four after that, I'm taking my lungs out my own damn self," he grunts, nostrils twitching a little as he waits. Is another one coming? It's been a little bit, now.
"I can't think of anything to tell ya to do to help relieve 'em." Marko sighs, then pauses and makes a beeline for his rack. A few moments of digging later, he's back with a silver hip flask. 'Dad always gave me a snort when I got 'em really bad." he offers. "And when I started to get colds….headaches….toothaches….Basically any other kind of ache." he adds, blushing a little.
Tisiphone looks to Marko and his flask, then over to Evandreus. There's a glimmer of evil mirth in that expression. "Heartache… finger-ache… sleep-ache… It's useful stuff." She's helpful when she wants to be, see? "Tried standing in the shower until you were half-boiled?" she asks, as if she already knows the answer. "If a snort doesn't work, one of my- brothers knew a trick." She cracks her knuckles, gives her fingers an ominous wiggle.
HIC! There it comes, catching the Bunny off-guard just as he was starting to laugh at Marko's dad's medicine cabinet, as it were. "Twice," he notes, to Tisiphone— of course, this is his typical mode of showering. Swinging sweatpants-clad legs down and falling from his bunk, landing in a slight crouch before standing up straight, he peeks toward the door. "Just a sip. If they put me up against the wall for it, at least the hiccups will be gone one way or the other. Tisiphone gets a further wary look.
"No worries, I'll claim 'medicinal purposes." he says, handing the flask to Evan and chuckling at Tisphone's comment. "Yeah, it was pretty much Pop's solution for everything." he sighs, shaking his head a little. "Hey, Money here's pretty religious, maybe we could call it a ritual?" he suggests with a grin.
Tisiphone's evil-glinty grin falters for a sec at Marko's comment, the sort of preliminary expression before someone gets either hurt or angry. She saves it, though, and re-bolsters her spirits with a bit of snark. "Dude. If that's all it took, we'd have ourselves a little chamalla smoke-circle faster than you could find me a lighter. And don't worry." This to Evandreus. She cracks her knuckles again as she says it. No wonder they're bony. "It's- pressure points in your scalp."
Evandreus uncaps the flask and takes a deep breath, holding it and tipping his head back, taking gulpers and holding his breath for the duration of the burning down the center of his being, finally letting out the air in a raspy, "Kaaaah!" Capping the flask again, he hands it back to its owner. "Your brother told you that noogies were a cure for hiccups?" he asks of Tisiphone, a corner of his mouth twitching upward a little bit, "I think you got had, guy," he lets her know with a kindly look.
Marko accepts the flask and offers it to Tisiphone with an 'I'm sorry' expression on his face, having just registered his glib remarks about religion didn't go down as intended. "Noogies?" he asks, looking back and forth between the two Aviators. "For hiccups?"
"Noogie? /Noogie?/ I wouldn't noogie you," Tisiphone replies, pale brows shooting up her forehead in a mock-wounded look. The grin that splits her mouth says the opposite. "Seriously, though." She pantomimes a scalp massage… or an evil wizard at his crystal ball. "Works for me. Trust me." Before accepting the flask, she glances back to the hatch — when she sees it hasn't moved, a quick nip is very, very, /very/ gratefully taken.
Cubits' grin sows the seeds of one in Evan, and soon he's offering her a bright beaming grin in return, "-Right.- I had a sister once," he notes, as if to indicate that he can see through all her crafty tricks. Hands move to his sides, then to the front of his ribs as he settles to perch on the edge of Marko's bunk. "It -is- seriously taking the edge off the shooting cracked-rib pains when I breathe…" he remarks, cautiously optimistic.
Marko takes the flask back and moves to get it tucked back into his rack. "I'd have a nip myself, but then I'd probably just fall over." he yawns, stretching expansively. "Between CAP flights and this project I've got with Lt Oberlin, Flasher's a busy boy." he explains. "What've you been up to, Money?" he asks.
"CAP. CAP. CAP," says Tisiphone, a mite sourly. "Then sometimes, to shake things up, there's a CAP thrown in. Lieutenant Oberlin- wait, isn't he with Intelligence?" Sleet-blue eyes narrow curiously at Marko. "What's up with /that/? Or you have to shoot us if you tell us?" She leans a bony hip into the locker next to the bunk Evandreus is perched on. Curling and uncurling her fingers.
Evandreus shifts further up Marko's bunk with him, giving Tisiphone room to join them if her bottom os craving bunk space. "I haven't heard of any project, either. Must be a top-secret sort of thing. But if the results of that project is anything like the data he was showing me in the rec room yesterday… I'm sorry, dude," he chuckles a little bit.
"Yeah, I dunno what I should say about it, so I'll just keep my mouth shut." Marko replies with a slight grimace. "If you two could keep it under your hats as well, I'd apperciate it." he adds. "Any word about…hell…anything?" he asks. "Or are we just gonna sit here and fly around the flotilla morning, noon and night?"
"Not a peep, blessed or otherwise," says Tisiphone, letting her head loll forward so she can scrub back and forth at her scalp fuzz. "Snips of conversation — a Marine saying the search-and-rescue they did went totally tits-up. Talked to someone in Engineering who said the same thing. Why the frak they had a FTL nerd ordering Marines about is-" She stops there, with a shrug and a sigh. She moves over a step, and parks her behind next to Evandreus. Makes a little circle-gesture with one pale finger. "C'mon. Turn a bit." She's back on the hiccup-curing kick.
Evandreus has not suffered spasm since the swig of liquor, and so the finger-circle gets a little look of puzzlement before he does turn to offer his back to her. "Did either of you read my AAR from the return recon to Virgon?" he wonders. Speaking of news. "Got my ass chased all the way home by three Cylon Raiders. They've built up triple-A sites in Skyler City. Looks like they're setting up camp."
"I read it, yeah. You didn't say anything about being chased by Raiders, though." Marko says, taking a long breath. "Trip-A, huh? That's interesting. Wonder who they're trying to protect it from?" he asks, turning to sit cross-legged on the bunk and peering at Evan curiously. "I mean, obviously, we're not in much of a position to mount a ground assault."
"They stopped? For real?" Tisiphone asks Evan, fingers poised for noogie- er, pressure-point attack, Sagittaran ninja-style. She watches him for several seconds before relenting, putting her back against the wall at the foot of the bed, knees drawn up toward her chest- boots. Temporarily scratch that. She half-turns to start unlacing her boots. "If they're setting up anti-air, they're not confident they got everyone."
"We couldn't one hundred percent identify the crafts," Evan admits, "So in the paperwork they had to be 'unidentified vessels' or whatever. But holy crap, Raiders," Evan shakes his head, curling up his own legs with him there in Marko's bunk, slouching over toward the back wall. "I think they're gone, yah," he notes to Tisiphone. "But I don't understand why the Cylons would stay on any of the colonies at all. Don't they have their own planet somewhere by now?"
"Sounds like it to me, Money." Marko nods, pursing his lips a little. "Hell, Buns, I can't figure out why they bothered coming back to hammer us in the first place. I mean, why put all that time and energy and resources into an attack on us when you've got a whole galaxy to go out and investigate?"
Inside the combat boots are Tis's usual non-regulation gold-and-red striped knee socks, fuzzed from wear. /Now/ she can rest her feet on the bed — which she does, back propped against the inside of the bunk, knees drawn to her chest, arms stretched out over her knees and left to dangle mid-air. She makes it look comfy, somehow. "If they're not confident they got everyone…" She leaves that to dangle, as well. It's perilously close to good news. "We built them in our likenesses," she says, with an odd grin at Marko. "How well do /we/ hold grudges?"
"I know, right?" Evan agrees with Tisiphone, looking back toward her again, then to Marko. "I mean, imagine if -we'd- been held in slavery for however many years? We'd be chomping at the bit to get a little of our own back, wouldn't we?" he reasons.
"Yeah, guess you guys have a point at that." Marko sighs, slumping back against the end of the bunk. "Not exactly our finest hour, was it?" he asks. "For years, we treated them like objects knowing they were a _lot_ more than that, and then we were surprised when they got sick of it." he grumbles. "But this?" he asks, waving his hand around as if to take in the whole situation. "This is kind of a bit of frakkin' overkill, isn't it? I mean, Gods beneath us….We'd already had an armistice…"
"Maybe they just knew we'd uphold our end of it," says Tisiphone, folding one arm across the other and propping her forearm on it. Two fingers on the still-outstretched hand make little grabbing motions at the nearest fold of fabric on Evandreus's sleeve. "We didn't see them once during those forty years. Agree to an armistice. Retreat to safety. Rebuild. Come back to finish what they started." She rubs her jawline against her arm, frowning a bit.
Evandreus is not, at present, wearing a shirt, but he's got a nice loose pair of sweatpants for pinching, if Cubits doesn't want to pinch at the Raptor bunny's arm. About that time, his diaphragm decides it's done with its little nap, a squeaking sound coming from the Bunny as some air is jerked in through tensed vocal chords. At least it doesn't hurt so bad. "They're probably even better at holding grudges than we are, since they don't age or forget," he notes. "Time doesn't heal any wounds of theirs."
"Yeah, I guess so." Marko sighs. "Well, maybe after we get through thinning them out a good ways, we can finally get around to turning the rest of them into toaster ovens or something." he muses with a grim smirk. "Just solve the whole thing with baked goods or something." he yawns, fully aware he's making no sense.
The grabby-fingers immediately convert to stabby-fingers of accusation at the sound of the hiccup. "I told you. I /told/ you." What Tisiphone is claiming to have told Evandreus remains unsaid. "What's our goal even going to /be/, at this point? Beyond turning Cylon helms into beer-steins. If your village gets shelled, you don't rebuild in the crater. You find a new place for a new village."
"Eek eek eek," Evan eeks out his end of the fingerstabbies, "I know, I know," he tells her. "Honestly, I don't see the point in turning Cylons into toaster ovens or beer steins at all," he points out. "We're just going to get more of us killed in the effort, and piss them off more, so they'll come after us, and MORE of us will get killed. Haven't enough people died already?"
"True enough, Money." Marko nods to her comments. "Can't really rebuild there now anyway…not with all of the rays those bombs must've pumped out." he adds. "Guess this means we have to find somewhere else to go. But where?"
Evandreus lifts a shoulder, shaking his head slowly. "I dunno. Maybe the Cylons aren't using their planet, anymore," he suggests with a huff of a laugh that turns into a squeak of a hiccup.
"Heh, well they made a right mess out of their new digs, if borrowing ours was the plan." Marko adds with his own grunt of amusement. "And I know you're right about the heads as beer steins thing, but, honestly, after all this? I think we've earned the right to collect a few on our way out the door."
Evandreus draws his lips together just a little, ribs spasming with another hiccup, silent, this time. "I don't know. We taught them how to hate. And see all the good that's come of it? I think that the best thing we can do in memory of the fallen is to learn a lesson… to learn to put aside vengeance and violence and hate and our deep grudges… and hope that the Cylons will follow the example. One side has to be the first to turn from warfare."
"Noble words." Marko nods, voice serious. "Dunno what the Cylons will do with them, mind." he smirks darkly. "But they're good words. I doubt it'll be as easy as all that, though. Never is. Hell, look how long the Colonies took to stop blowing each other up?" he shrugs.
Evandreus lifts a shoulder, himself, and peels on up out of the bed, giving Marko a little snuggle on his way out. "That's our nature. Maybe it's time for our nature to change. We can evolve. We can make ourselves better. Will we? I dunno. A lot of people are chanting for Cylon blood already. But for my part— I won't bear them any hatred. It only harms me, not them. Thanks for the sip of hooch, guy." he stretches. "I'm gonna try to sleep."