PHD #355: Fresh Meat
Fresh Meat
Summary: As the Swarm racks up casualties, Sonja is thrust into the grinder.
Date: 17 Feb 2042 AE
Related Logs: Swarm 7 follows this
Cidra Sonja 
Ready Room - Deck 7 - Battlestar Cerberus
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: #355

With the ongoing Cylon attacks every 24 hours, matters in the Air Wing have been pressed, with casualties taking more and more pilots off the line. So this isn't exactly a proper commissioning ceremony, a handful of Nuggets informed this morning they were going to get their real wings TODAY and ordered to report to the Ready Room at half-past 14:00 hours. Cidra is here a little early, in her flight suit. She's not been seen out of it much the past days. Few of the pilots have, with the prospect that the Cylons could jump in at any moment at the front of all their minds.

Those Nuggets who've arrived already are lined up in front of the podium, waiting to be made proper air officers. And to be thrust into the breach, is the unspoken implication.

Sonja arrives along with the other Nuggets looking both excited and horrified, she didn't feel ready and after seeing what the Cylons can do first hand last night she was beginning to have doubt of her abilities and chances of survival. But here she is standing in line with the rest of the lucky or unlucky pilots.

There are only three other Nuggets present standing alongside Sonja. They were apparently the ones 'most ready' to be shoved onto the flight line. For better or worse. Cidra stands before them, bracing her hands on either side of the podium.

"I shall not belabor this, as we have all much work to be about. You have all trained hard these past months and earned your wings as well as they can be earned. Our strength is being tested now, and your skills are needed for real and for true. The days ahead shall be hard, but you have been prepared as well as you can be. The rest is in the hands of yourselves, your comrades, and the gods. Your duty is to protect this ship and those humans who survive in the Fleet, and there is no greater honor or greater burden you can hold. I trust you shall bear it well. Honors to your service, and gods be with you. Fight and fly."

That's it, as far as speeches go. With that, she descends from the podium to give the Nuggets their wings properly.

Sonja comes to attention when Cidra stands before her, she doesn't say anything until she's spoken to. Her mind is in shock and she's not sure what to do or say, so she doesn't do anything. The other cadets either side of her, are sweating, she can only imagine she looks as bad.

"Salute, Ensign," Cidra says to Sonja. Almost gently. Almost. She leans forward to pin a pair of ensign's pips on Sonja's collar. And then flight wings on her lapel. "You join your brothers and sisters in the Fighting Fourteenth now. You are ready." She says it firmly, perhaps to make the girl properly believe it. Or perhaps to convince herself. Hard to tell with the CAG.

Sonja nods her head and allowes herself a respectful smile for the CAG. "Thank you sir." And she gives a very smart salute. "So say we all." She mutters the pray and takes a deep breath, she's finally done it joined up and become a colonial warrior. Gods help her.

Cidra acknowledges Sonja's salute with a fluid one of her own. And then, she leaves forward to kiss the other woman. Full on the lips, if Sonja allows. It's not a romantic gesture, but there's a certain sisterly ceremony to it. She does the same with the others, albeit two on the cheeks rather than on the lips for the male Ensigns.

Sonja looks shocked at the kiss, but doesnt stop it, she's confused but then smiles figuring it some sort of ritual. "Thank you Sir." She says, her hand going to touch her wings. "I'll do my best, to protect and serve." She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

"I expect you less than your best, Lyon," Cidra says. If the kiss was supposed to be at all unusual, her composed manner gives no sign of it. "All of you, dismissed! Your squadron assignments are posted on the Flight Board. You shall be integrated into the CAP rotation promptly. You are much needed on the line."

Sonja nods her head slowly and does the tradtional dimissel moves she's learned over the last few years. "Major." She asks approaching her. "Will I be assigned a flight partner?" she's been as eager to find that out as she has to get her wings.

"You shall be assigned a wing within your squadron, yes, Lyon," Cidra replies as the Nuggets disperse. "I leave that up to Captain Vakos. She'll be your squadron leader, as you shall be with the Knights. But I expect you shall be flying with none under a full Lieutenant to start off. I trust your flightmates to guide you well."

Sonja nods her head once again. "Thank you Sir." She says, wondering what to do now. "I guess I should imform Shiner, he has to call me sir." That makes her grin. "And go back my stuff, and move into the pilots Barracks."

"Go quickly, Ensign. Duty may call you shortly." And Cidra lets her go, on that perhaps ominous note.

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