PHD #001: Green Light
Green Light
Summary: The proverbial green light is given in more ways than one.
Date: 27 Feb 2041 AE
Related Logs: War Day logs & Broken Birds In Their Nests
Atreus Quinn Rat Sitka Tillman Trask 
Hangar Deck - Port / Midship - Battlestar Cerberus
The single largest rooms on the Cerberus are the hangar decks. Each flight pod consists of two stacked landing bays with adjoined decks and hangars, which along with computer-assisted landings results in a faster Viper recovery rate. Mirror images of each other, these two huge areas are located on the flight pods. The inboard sides of the deck, closest to the ship's main hull, are lined with parking and maintenance bays for Vipers and Raptors based aboard the battlestar. The outboard side of the deck contains the launch tubes used by the Vipers for standard deployment. Huge blast doors seal the deck into four sections, each one containing an elevator that leads up to the flight deck directly overhead. The fore-most section contains an elevator system that leads towards Aerospace Fabrication.
Condition Level: 2 - Danger Close

Although the initial chaos has somewhat subsided, it has not entirely passed. The first tsunami wave has merely crested and fallen, leaving choppy waters in its wake, and the foreboding sense of further crushing torrents.

Holding his own and picking up whatever slack he finds, Trask has made himself at home on the Deck. With his undeniable skill and experience, as well as Damon in his corner, the resident knuckledraggers seemingly have welcomed him into the fold. The fact that he acts like one of them — and even was one of them, once upon a time — surely helps. Especially considering that he's an el-tee. No small amount of officers tend to be douchebags towards the enlisted, but he sure as the Nine Hells isn't one of those.

Although Atreus sent out an order for shifts running 8 on and 12 off to give the crews time to eat, exercise and sleep with no one running double shifts, he has been down here with only a few breaks since returning from the Anchorage. While he has been working primarily with a few of the birds in the corner, his attention has been split between them and directing the crews hither and thither. What with one thing and another, the rumor of an LT amid the crews has only just reached the man. Keeping his expression only barely down-shifted from furious, he stalks off to find the interloper. When he finally does spot the man, he pauses in his stalking to half smile, though it is quickly lost. Clearing his throat, he bellows, "Trask! Front and center."

"In a sec, Chief!" Trask calls back, then continues, "Davis! Lend me a hand, bro." Whatever the ECO was working on isn't the kind of thing to drop cold turkey. The Specialist who's been tagging along to learn at the boots of Bootstrap takes over. "Thanks, man," is said, before the Lt(JG) is heading over to Atreus. "'Sup, Chief. Glad to see y'a'right." Despite his being an officer, he shows the appropriate respects.

Quinn dashes onto the deck, in her flight suit, helmet under her arm. From the look of her, she hasn't left her flight suit since the disasters of last night. Her previously prim and cute pigtails have erupted into a massive halo of frizzy curls all around her head, only barely restrained by their original plaits. She's got a double set of luggage under her eyes, but there is a renewed gleam to her gaze. "Chief! Bootstrap! You around? Do we have a single Raptor up yet? Command's gettin' ready ta' send us out!" Her accent is… weird. Not Caprican, not Aerilon… but this mix of propriety and a bit of lilting that comes when she's completely not thinking about it.

Atreus watches to see what it is that the LT(JG) is doing. A brow is lifted a little and his smile almost returns. However, when the LT is facing him, his expression is stormy. "What the frak do you think you're doing?" The admonition is only there for a moment, though he does add, "Does the CAG know you are down here, Trask? She and I have a deal…" But, whatever it is that is about to be said is cut short by the clearly exhausted Quinn. Although he is not currently facing the woman, Atreus closes his eyes, a particularly peculiar expression lighting on his face for a moment. For that moment, the man does not speak and does not turn. Finally, when the moment has passed and his expression is again under his control, he turns to salute Quinn. "Captain…" That is when the double set of luggage is noted, "You should be asleep, sir." It is out before he can check his tongue, though he hears the words as they are spoken, "Uh. I mean. Yes, sir. If the CAG has cleared you to fly, Harrier 307 is in shape to go out."

"I believe the technical term is 'fixing shit', Chief," Trask glibly replies, "An' yeah. The Major knows. My SL knows. Of most importance to you, no doubt: Damon knows. I've been deferrin' to him, apart from anything poppin' up in my immediate area requirin' immediate attention, at which point, I get someone qualified on it." He's not here to step on toes. He just wants what needs to get done to get done. "As for the deal… yeah, I'm aware. I'm also unquestionably qualified. Hells, if you bothered to go over the records and credentials I gave you, you'll know I'm more qualified than just about anyone on your team. So, I figured I could either do something useful /or/ I could sit around like some jagoff." Beat. "I hate jagoffs. Much more than I hate gettin' reprimanded."

That's about the time that the ECO hears his friend-slash-pilot-slash-SL. "Frak, Quinn. I hope you look that bad 'cuz you were havin' sexyfuntimes with that one Ensign." For the record, he's not looking too hot himself. Copious amounts of caffeine, Taurian stubbornness, ample physical conditioning, and a coping mechanism he's had since childhood that involves repairing things do go pretty far, though. "I'll go suit up." Then, to Atreus, "You don't mind chewin' me out /after/ I do my actual job?" Even now, in spite of /all/ that's happened, the man still manages to be cheeky.

Quinn pauses as she sees Atreus' back to her, not even having remembered, for the moment, who she looked like. But when there is that hesitation in the Chief the memories do come flooding back and she pauses, voice faltering on her lips. She just watches his shoulders, lost for words, before he turns around and addresses the matter. A faint, tired smile crosses her features in his direction. "Thank you, Chief. I'll inform the CAG. Suit up, Bootstrap. Who knows how long we'll have to wait for the Admiral's go ahead, but I want to be ready to launch the moment he gives it." Then back to the Chief. "Mind if I use your phone?" She nods to the intercom before heading over and picking it up. Hopefully the CAG is where she was before.

Atreus turns to look at Trask and, this time, the smile makes it fully to his lips, "Frak, son… If the CAG cleared you, you're golden. I did look at your creds and was going to ask her to give you the green light anyway. I don't need to test you. Not after what I saw of your handiwork. And, since you're following the rules, you are welcome here." So the reprimand isn't coming. "Just don't spend so much time down here that you frak up when you're up there…" Turning back to Quinn, he lets the smile remain, "Sure thing, Captain." His gaze lingers on her for a moment before he motions to the phone, "Of course." When she moves off, he shakes his head as though to clear it, then turns back to Trask, "I'll send a note to the CAG about it. Think I'll cc you so you know what is being said." With that, he lifts a hand to rub it along his head, the motion seeming to settle him. Finally, he heads toward the indicated Harrier calling for a team to meet him there, "Come on, Higgins, Evans, let's get this bird juiced up and ready to fly."

[Into the Wireless] Phone rings in the map room.

[Into the Wireless] Quinn says, "Captain Quinn speaking. Is the CAG still there? Harrier-307 is cleared by the deck."

[Into the Wireless] Quinn says, "Standing by."

[Into the Wireless] Quinn says, "Major. The Chief says Harrier-307 is completely operational and ready for duty. We're ready on your orders."

Trask doesn't look at all surprised by Atreus' response. After all, the Chief is an on-the-ball kind of guy. When being told to limit his time on the Deck, the el-tee does smile in his boyish, smirky way, and says, "Yes, dad. Be sure to give mom," presumably the CAG, "my love." It's all in good jest. "Right. Fashionable as I currently am, this look is all wrong for plunging into the deep black to figure out what the frak has happened." That said, he's off to suit-up for flight.

[Into the Wireless] Quinn says, "Understood, sir. Do we have an approximate timeline? And Bootstrap passes on to give his love."

Quinn speaks into the wireless, giving a full report, but adding Trask's love at the end of it. And then her eyes flicker away from the metal bulkhead she's been staring at for a few moments to look back to the Chief. She covers the phone and looks up to the Chief, giving a half smile, "The CAG says to convey her thanks for quick work under extraordinary stress. Mine too, Chief… mine too." Her eyes linger on his for a few heartbeats before looking away to Trask again and just rolling her eyes. At least they're able to relax, if just a little. She seems to have gotten a bit more renewed energy at the thought of going on a mission
Description set to flight.

Atreus turns a grin back to Trask, some of his earlier pain dissipated by the other man's manner, "I'll do that, son. I'll expect you to have her home by midnight. You know how you are when you don't get enough sleep." When Quinn speaks, the man turns to look her way. His gaze catches hers and a lopsided smile begins, "Oh. Right. Well, you are both welcome, Captain. She and you all have done some amazing work as well." Flustered, the man seems if only for a moment. When she turns away, he steps back a faint frown beginning. It is a 'get your shit together moment' if ever there was one.

Unfortunately — or fortunately, perhaps — Trask doesn't catch the Chief's quip over all the noise permeating the Deck. He just heads for the spare locker in which he'd stored his suit earlier.

[Into the Wireless] Quinn says, "Understood, sir. We'll head out on the next CAP with two of the Mark IIs, then come back and shower… sleep. I'll coordinate with Captain Tillman after CAP. Is there anything else, sir?"

[Into the Wireless] Quinn says, "Talk to you then, sir. <click>"

Quinn gives Atreus a bit more of a smile as she sees him smile back, lopsided and strangely cute like that. It was good to see a genuine smile. She keeps his eyes for as many heartbeats as he'll permit while she lingers on the phone with the CAG. However, once she's off, she frowns a bit at his back. Trask has lost himself to changing, it seems, so she heads up behind the Chief and calls a bit quieter, this conversation meant just for them. "…Chief. You okay?" Not a question she should be asking anyone, but she asks never the less.

It is such an odd question, really. Luckily, the definition of 'okay' is as loose as the reply he offers, "Fine. I'm fine, sir." He even manages a smile when he turns to look at Quinn. A smile that warms as his gaze searches her face. The lingering look remains for a moment before he again blinks and looks at her forehead rather than those too familiar eyes. "Listen. Uh. You get your flying done, yeah? Be safe and fly true." For a moment, he meets her gaze again and a hand lifts toward the woman's cheek.

Awkward it is. Maggie's worried, but as she sees his eyes searching her face like that, her half smile slightly falls. She nods curtly to him. "Of course, -Chief-. Always." She emphasizes his rank a moment, hopefully snapping him out of whatever memory land he was in. Her eyes never leave his, though, she just looks a hint more stern than before. "I should prep for CAP. Tell me when that bird is fueled, yes?"

This might be one of exceptionally few moments where Quinn is wishing her ECO were returning. (Then, again, he just might make it worse.) Regardless, Trask is still busy changing, so she gets to deal with the awkward without him there.

It might have been the rank, or the sternness, or perhaps Atreus' memory fog parted. His hand pauses for a moment, the touch never actually landing. Instead, he straightens, cheeks flaming, "Sir. Of course, sir." The errant hand stiffens and is lifted in a salute. More softly, "I'm sorry, sir." For… the awkwardness, perhaps. There is a moment when his lips work as though to explain, but it passes. "Good flying, sir." Stepping back, he turns to walk briskly back to the Harrier to check on its status. While moving, he shakes his head once more, the motion firm and apparently grounding.

Quinn shakes her head, a certain sadness of understanding in her features. This was going to be a strange bit of a relationship to work through. "Don't worry about it, Chief. Been… a long day for all of us. For what it's worth I… I'm sorry." What to tell someone when they are -certain- their family is dead. So many of the others just lost in not knowing. She does reach out one hand, touching his shoulder but a moment and giving it a squeeze before she turns on the ball of her foot and stalks across the deck to the fresh Raptor, beginning to go through pre-flight checks. She's never gotten out of her flight suit, so she doesn't need to get back into it.

Atreus stills at the touch on his shoulder. He nods, "Thanks, Captain." His voice is strange, strangled, soft. Then, when she moves off, he finishes his trek to the bird's front to check on his crew. After a moment, he assists in retracting the fuel hose and closes a side panel, "Checked and ready, Captain." Then the crews fade off, turning to other duties.

Thank the Gods for small mercies; Bootstrap missed the entire exchange. As Atreus passes, Trask says, "Oh, hey! Chief. About before… thanks." Presumably, he's referring to Deck privileges. The ECO's helmet is lifted in a 'cheers' gesture. "We'll try to bring 'er back in one piece." Some may question the appropriateness of all his quipping, but it is some manner of distraction.

Quinn nods towards the two, content with the outside of her craft, before she ducks in the hatch and disappears off deck, preparing for CAP.

Sitka clambers down the ladder of one of the vipers, still in the same flight suit he's probably been wearing since the previous night, though by some small mercy he's taken the opportunity to shower. Sweat trickles from his hairline regardless, and is swiped away with his forearm once he drops down onto the deck. He's already removed his helmet, and pauses for a moment to drag down the zipper on his flight suit while awaiting his post-flight checklist.

Atreus lifts a hand to Trask, "No sweat. I'll let the CAG know." He turns a glance after both Quinn and Trask, his habitual half smile returning. This time, it lights his eyes as well as his expression. Claiming a clipboard from where he left it, he flips to a new page and begins checking a few things. Noting Sitka, he heads that way, signaling for a crew to begin post-flight.

Trask nods to the Chief and then notices the Petrels' commander. "Hey, Cap'n," he calls out to Sitka, "How's it lookin' out there?" The ECO stands near the Raptor he presumably is going to board for CAP. "How ya holdin' up? Y'a'right?" Muttered to himself is, "All things considered, anyway."

It's coincidence, more than any pointed assignment, that has Rat scurrying toward Sitka. Well, more like… walking. The woman's characteristic hyperactivity seems… subdued. Small hands shoved deep into coverall pockets, and her hair left untamed. Hey, a world just got flambéed… who cares about hair regulations? A glance is swept toward the unfamiliar pilot, a 'brow arching a bit in half-hearted curiosity, before she's holding one of the familiar checklists toward the man. "Sir."

Trask's hail seems to catch Sitka slightly off-guard. It takes a second for the owner of the voice to register, and once he spots the younger man across the way, he shoots him a faint smile that barely puts a dent in his stoicism. "Hey, Bootstrap." The zipper's tugged down a few more inches, helmet given a little heft so he doesn't drop the expensive equipment. "Too damned quiet," is his summation of things 'out there'. Spotting Atreus headed over, he begins dragging off his gloves, and moves to meet the Chief. And nearly bowls over the tiny Rat with her clipboard. "Thanks," he murmurs, blue eyes flitting over her briefly as he reaches for the thing.

Atreus spots Rat with the clipboard. Yes, he notices the wild curls, but really is not in a 'by the books' mood right now. He nods to the pilot, "Sir." The greeting is cut short as the clipboard is passed. He turns to nod again at Trask, but refocuses on Rat, "Hey, Teresi. You've been doing great work. Thanks." The man fades a bit to keep out of the way while formalities are taken care of.

"Better that than the sound of shrieking death over the airwaves." The quiet, that is. Never mind that it's way too soon to be saying things like that. Trask is Trask, though, and this glibness is part of it. He leaves it at that, though, knowing that Sitka has post-flight foo to do.

Rat's used to being tripped over. The youth manages to swerve into a timely sidestep as Sitka almost flattens her, but save a wry look upward — it couldn't be called a glare, exactly, though the set of dark 'brows isn't quite friendly either — she makes no protest. Instead, she's sweeping a more pointed look between pilot and his ship. Lips parting in the beginning of a comment she probably would've gotten cuffed for, only to be interrupted by the oh-so-timely Chief. The girl's chin tips sideward, angling her face as opposed to actually turning it, as dark eyes blink owlishly at the man. Great… work? "Mm. Yes. Sir. Thank you? Sir…" Then, turning back to Sitka. "Checklist." So articulate.

Too soon? Maybe a little. Trask gets a slantwise look from the Petrels' Captain that's difficult to read, but maybe just a slight bit unhappy. "Afternoon, Chief," he murmurs to Atreus, attempting a smile in that the left side of his mouth pulls up in a poor facsimile of one. Finally, he slides a pen out of one of his flight suit's many pockets, clicks it on with his thumb, and relinquishes the curly-headed crewman of her checklist. "Have you had a chance to take a look at those upgrades for the mark twos, in all of this mess?" he asks. The question could be aimed at either Rat or Atreus, or maybe both. "I know it's probably not your first priority.."

Atreus turns briefly as one of the crew brings a new clipboard. A few sheets are handed to him and he looks at them for a moment, "I haven't yet, Captain, though Teresi or Damon might have." A frown creeps into his tone as he reads the pages more carefully. Turning to Trask, he clears his throat, "Bootstrap. You're going to be flying hot. Be careful, yeah?" Dad again. The man nods to the others, sparing a quick smile for Rat, "Yeah. You're doing great. Keep it up, Teresi." He then turns on his heel and hurries off. "Higgins! Latorsi! We're loading ordnance onto Harrier 307. Let's go."

Judging by the woman's expression, Rat's not accustomed to praise from superiors. Large eyes narrow slightly at Atreus, as if trying to deduce what game he's playing at, but then the man's shouting orders again and Rat's attention returns to the task at hand. Chin tipping upward to stare at the unfamiliar Sitka, and after a moment of watching the man tick off check boxes, she's speaking. "Who are you? Sir." You can say almost anything if you tack on a 'sir' close enough to the end.

If Trask catches Sitka's look, there is no indication of it. Atreus, however, is heard. "Yes, dad," he dryly intones, tossing in a mild eyeroll to cement what it is to be a teenager. "Don't worry; we're used to hot seats." Considering where he and Quinn were last stationed, it is a very accurate statement. "Catch ya later." With that, he dons his helmet and is off to board the bird.

"Ibrahim Sitka," the Captain supplies, voice a distracted murmur touched with a very faint roughness. He could've been shouting recently. Crying? He doesn't particularly seem the type, but given the givens… "Or Shiv, if you like. I fly the vipers." He hitches his head toward the red and white Mark II he just disembarked from. Trask, regardless of his previous comment, gets a tip of two fingers to his forehead and a farewell of "good hunting, Bootstrap" in parting. Then, to the little technician, "And you are?" Viper jocks generally don't care. But then, he seems a little non-standard, for a viper jock.

As Atreus' team heads off to bring a sled of ordnance for the Harrier, the DC pauses to speak quietly to Trask, "I heard you say you'll bring my bird to roust safely. Thanks. I know you two have lots of experience. Not dissing your skills, son. Just sayin'." He smiles a bit impishly, then adds, "But, I'll kill you if you get a scratch on her." Stepping back, he lets the other man board, if that is the plan. He keeps a weather eye on the crew loading the Harrier, but does not step in. They are doing fine.

It's the Viper jocks that don't care that Rat makes a point to harass. When Sitka actually takes the civil road, Rat's left with a bit of a dilemma. Egg the man into a bit of old-fashioned officer-vs-enlisted, or try this friendly route everyone seems so fond of? A long moment is spent mulling on the options — a little too transparent in the way she's staring up at him — and then she's snorting to herself. "Ee-brah-hchem." And yes, it's said just like that. "Seeh-t-kah. Gods. I'm Rat." Breaking another of those pesky little Deck rules, and catching herself before anyone can get their coveralls in a bunch. "Reya Teresi. But every'n but Chief calls me Rat."

Tillman, still in his dress grays, appears at the stairwell and moves deftly across the deck. He's got his eyes up and out, looking for someone in particular. The guy looks like most crew - not been to bed yet and in serious need of coffee and food. Seeming to spot who he is looking for, the man's voice barks up. "Chief Atreus?"

"/I/ won't scratch 'er," Bootstrap slyly smirks. Whether that is a diss at Quinn or an allusion to Cylons is not evident. Anything else he might've added is belayed with the TACCO's arrival. "Give Uncle Tillman my regards, will ya, Pops?" Quiet enough for Atreus' ears alone. And then the ECO departs, the Raptor launching shortly thereafter.

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