PHD #058: Fun With Rehab, Pt. I
Fun With Rehab, Pt. I
Summary: Bell and Tisiphone take a crack at the sims.
Date: 2041.04.24
Related Logs: Fun With Rehab 2.
Bell Tisiphone 
Flight Simulation — Deck 11 — Battlestar Cerberus
Post-Holocaust Day: #58
A training room specifically dedicated to honing aerial skills, this area is equipped with several flight simulator pods that allow the pilots to practice maneuvers and tactics without being in a real live plane. The Viper-pods are installed on one side of the room with a little space between them, an attempt to provide a realistic feel for close-range wing training, while a smaller number of Raptor sim-pods are installed on the opposite side of the room from the Vipers. A central computer terminal and overhead display screen sits at the head of the room, where one can input exercises and data to be run in the sims, scroll through score records, and control the training modules.
Condition Level: 3 — All Clear

Round Two: FIGHT. It should actually have been Round Four, for the two pilots, but Tisiphone bowed out of the first session, claiming scheduling conflict with her deck duties, and the second session for a supposed trip to Sickbay. This time, she's actually here, loitering tensely near the door, smoking her cigarette like it was full of cancer-causing resolve.

Bell meanders in, fully decked in his flight suit (for accuracy's sake, perhaps), sans helmet. He offers the younger pilot a warm smile and a half bow at the sight of her, and begins to slip gloves over his fingers. "Ms. Apostolos. How good of you to join me."

No flight suit for Tisiphone. It's not necessary, so why bother, right? Pay no attention to the fact at least half the sims training is done by folks in their suits. "Uh. Professor. Hey." Tisiphone twitches a smile back at Bell, lifting her cigarette to him a little in a smoky salute. "Yeah, sorry about- yesterday." She drags on her cigarette and looks up to the ceiling while she exhales that-a-way. "Training's going good for you?"

"Well enough," comes the Lieutenant's response, equivocating with the first hand to secure a seal. "I am making progress on rebuilding the strength of my grip. Ideally I will be able to fly an entire CAP within two or three weeks. Thought perhaps I'd try a rehearsal in costume today, to see if the suit gave me any support or made things any more difficult. And for you?"

"Yeah. It's, ah. It's going just fine, Sir." Tisiphone rattles that off so dutifully and ungenuinely that she even flubs the name. "Sorry. Professor. Yeah, the-" She looks around the room for some sort of inspiration in her verbal flailing. "The gym's been great." /There's/ something truthful, and she sticks to it with relief. "Wind's starting to come back. Arm's- well, it's getting better. Not feeling so trapped in my own skin anymore, you know?" She takes a final drag off her cigarette and crouches to grind the cherry out on the edge of her boot-sole.

"Believe me when I say that I can sympathize entirely." Bell moves to 'his' simulator and begins prepping it for 'flight'. "I thought perhaps we might try a spot of mock combat today. As much as I enjoy formation flying, I think the days where a Petrel could rely on his aerial prowess alone are behind us. Agreed?"

"Watching your flight footage still puts me on edge, you know?" Tisiphone musters the start of a grin, there, slanting it toward Bell. "Rest of the Petrels, too, but. Watching it always feels like I'm too close to everything." There are a couple interpretations to that, and she clarifies neither, pushing restlessly off toward her own sim-pod to set it up. "No debris field this time? It seemed to give you a little trouble last time." Ah, that's better. Shit-talking.

Bell uses his good hand to support himself as he hops into the mock-fighter craft. "You can see how far your wings extend. Anything past that is fair game. All that five meter, ten meter doctrine is nonsense. Rules devised by administrators who cared more about property than people."

"Yes, Professor. Will this be on our quiz tomorrow?" There — a real, if cheeky, grin. Tisiphone finishes punching in her own sim's flight parameters before giving her right shoulder a careful, testing roll. Into the 'cockpit' she goes, muttering something under her breath as she pulls the 'canopy' shut atop her.

"Seems those officer's pins have gone to your head, Ms. Apostolos," Bell responds with decidedly less humor. "We are, all of us, constantly learning. When we stop - when we think we know enough - we die." Easy as that, it seems. He closes the canopy over his head as well, and keys up the simulator.

[Sim-01-540: Tisiphone] There's a brief pop of static and a rustle as Tisiphone pulls her headset on and flicks the mike with her thumbnail to make sure it's live. "I didn't say anything about not learning anymore, Professor." Someone's been stung, by the sounds of it. "Starting at one thousand meters." Her virtual Viper abruptly pops into being, soaring in its kilometer-wide radius around Bell.

[Sim-02-541: Bell] "Only a thousand? You might have a little Petrel in you after all," Bell replies, his voice even more nasal over the comms, and some of the good humor back in his tone. "Ready or not, Ms. Apostolos, here I come." With that, he punches his throttle to three quarters and begins to close the distance.

<COMBAT> Bell has changed stance to cautious.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone has changed stance to evade.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone attacks Bell with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Bell attacks Tisiphone with KEW but MISSES!

[Sim-01-540: Tisiphone] "Didn't want you getting lonely, Professor." Another crackle of static, probably meant to be a snort. The second Bell's engines flare to life, hers do as well, scything her around and down. She only has a tiny pocket of time to get a shot off as she comes around, at a terrible angle to boot, but she takes it anyway, the bullets sweeping an arc far to Bell's side. Virtual bullets are cheap, at least. The moment their birds pass, she's throwing hers around in a pilot-jostling pirouette, coming around at an angle perpendicular to where inertia's carrying her. Trying one of Spiral's tricks out for size.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone has changed stance to banzai.

[Sim-02-541: Bell] Bell is characteristically silent on the comms as their virtual dance of death begins, his own shots arcing wide. Cheap, indeed. His own about-face is decidedly more leisurely, a long arc across the X and Z axes that betrays his comfort with atmospheric flight.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone attacks Bell with KEW - ARMOR on Body stops the attack!
<COMBAT> Bell attacks Tisiphone with KEW and MISSES!

[Sim-01-540: Tisiphone] "Black frakking mother of the gods-" comes over the comms, Tisiphone's voice tight with either frustration or pain. Her maneuver was good in theory, but in practice she's finding it difficult to segue into a more standard pursuit, her bird lurching through an awkward curve as she tries to come around. "Sorry about your- paint job, Professor."

[Sim-02-541: Bell] "Quite alright." As the bullets start raking his armor, Bell breaks hard to starboard, cutting throttle to tighten up his turn and try to eat into the Knight's angle of attack. From the outside looking in, he's the slow-moving target in the center of a whirling circle of Tisiphone, waiting for the opportunity to line up a shot or ease himself into a pursuit trajectory.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone attacks Bell with KEW - Moderate wound to Body.
<COMBAT> Bell attacks Tisiphone with KEW - Moderate wound to Nose (Reduced by Armor).

[Sim-02-541: Bell] This time, the rounds actually make their way into his Viper, and Bell lights up his afterburners in an attempt to evade. Too little, too late. He barely takes notice of his own shots hitting home, marginal successes as they were. The transition is sudden, from wallowing faux-Raptor to making use of the Viper's full capabilities, and Doc charges off in pursuit of his former student with his thumb locked down on the firing stud.

<COMBAT> Bell has changed stance to normal.

[Sim-02-541: Bell] OOC: The day I set Bell's stance to Banzai is the day someone slips him amphetamines.
[Sim-01-540: Tisiphone] OOC: I try to use it whenever she's doing something she deserves to get shot down for. I'd be happier with a +stance dumbass.

[Sim-01-540: Tisiphone] Tisiphone's bird swings out too wide as tries to nip back in after finally coming around — poor stick control, tch — and bleeds off more of the frenetic speed she'd been trying to maintain. The two birds cross firing lines a second time. Quick reflexes save her shot, but not her attack vectors, and she finds herself trapped into shaking off the Professor's pursuit.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone has changed stance to normal.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone attacks Bell with KEW - Light wound to Nose (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Bell attacks Tisiphone with KEW - Serious wound to Cockpit.

[Sim-01-540: Tisiphone] It never fails. It Never. Frakking. Fails. Some glorious day Tisiphone will actually learn to stop shit-talking. She tries to push her Viper down into a come-around punishingly full of negative Gs, but only succeeds in making herself an easy target for a hail of virtual bullets. Her engines flare, brighten further with afterburners as she peels off and tries to come back for a more conventional attack.

[Sim-02-541: Bell] This time around, Bell's pass brings him in above and to port of Tisiphone's fighter, and a good solid burst of kinetic weapons fire punches holes in her cockpit - and presumably, her virtual meatbag self. He breaks off past her, the two craft streaking apart, and starts to come about in a tight arc, rolling his Viper 90 degrees and pulling back hard.

<COMBAT> Tisiphone attacks Bell with KEW and MISSES!
<COMBAT> Bell attacks Tisiphone with KEW - Serious wound to Body (Reduced by Armor).
<COMBAT> Tisiphone has been KO'd!

[Sim-01-540: Tisiphone] The sim-pods installed on the Cerberus are state-of-the-art things — at least, the Mark Sevens are — and full of passingly realistic blinkenlights and klaxons warning of Impending Soul Evacuation. First the cockpit's torn apart with bullets, then the fuselage, and Bell's readouts happily inform him of Loss Of Target while Tisiphone's bird blows itself apart.

[Sim-02-541: Bell] Bell, for his part, does a simple victory wing-waggle before ending the simulation. He pops the canopy open and sets about powering down the Viper-pod. "Was that your arm bothering you, or simply youthful exuberance?"

Tisiphone doesn't swing open her sim-pod's canopy until Bell's nearly done with his powering-down routine. It flies open with a lurch, and she swings her legs out crossways from the seat, bending over while her shoulders hitch and surge, one hand brought up to curl around the back of her neck. Assume Please-No-Fainting position. At least it's not the Please-No-Vomiting position.

Bell looks over at Tisiphone's display and moves quickly to the side of her simulator. "Vertigo? What's wrong?" he inquires, though tactfully keeping hands to himself. Remembered an altercation or three in the classroom, perhaps.

Tisiphone never put hands to anyone who didn't start things first. It's probably the only reason she wasn't bounced out of Academy. There /was/ that unfortunate bit of fisticuffs in the classroom, but the guy learned to mind which asses were for grabbing and which weren't. Win-win, right? "'mfine," she blurts, after a deep and shaky breath. "Justfine." It'll be true if she keeps saying it. "S'nothing." She brings both her hands up and over her scalpfuzz, scrubbing hard at it before she looks up. "Just- spun funny at the end."

Bell begins to un-latch his gloves from the sleeves of his flight suit. "Got a little bloodthirsty there, at the end. Unless that was your arm acting up?" He clutches both gloves in one hand and rests the injured wrist on the top of her simulator. "Need a moment? Perhaps you'd like a cup of tea?"

"Little- Column A, little of Column B." Tisiphone looks down again for another hard scalp-scrub. A stubborn litany of deep breaths seems to be working her away from abject terror and back towards calm. "No, I'm cool. I'm cool. It's nothing." She clears her throat, which triggers a brief spate of nervous coughing, then pushes herself upright, closing the sim-pod canopy behind her. "There brandy in the tea?" she asks, with a breathless laugh.

"If that suits your fancy," Doc replies with a smile, "I'm sure there's a soul or two in the berthings who'll take pity on a poor wounded bird."

<Fade for RL.>

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