| Imperfect Pins |
| Summary: | Laskaris gets a quick and dirty promotion to the rank of captain. |
| Date: | format: 12 April 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Looking for Answers |
| Players: |
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| Naval Offices —- Deck 10 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| This area is set-up much like any standard office building. Cubicles have been constructed using cheap waist-high walls, their contents left neutral for whoever needs to use them. Inside each cubicle is a desk with a laptop and chair. Simple overhead lights bring dull illumination to the room except over the back wall where each one of the colonies twelve flags hangs from its own pole. Fake, potted plants dot the room and seem to be standard issue along with the water cooler and coffee machines. Off the main room are a few private offices such as that of the JAG or CAG. |
| Post Holocaust Day: #45 |
Cidra proceeds directly back to her office, walking slowly, so Laskaris can keep in stride with her. She says nothing. The woman is not at all uncomfortable with long stretches of silence. Into her office she goes, waiting until Laskaris has followed her to close the hatch behind her. She goes to sit behind her desk, motioning for him to take the opposite chair. "You were not too seriously injured in the boarding. That is for the good. How are you feeling, Lasher?"
Neither is Laskaris; he's perfectly content to follow the major's lead as they walk, finishing his cigarette in silence. It's discarded by the time they get to the CAG's office, and he sits in the proferred chair. "I'm… makin' do, sir," he replies after a short pause. "You know how it is. Could be better, but could be a helluva lot worse, eh?" A thin, humorless smile follows.
Cidra rummages around in her desk, removing something small and metallic from it. No little box for Laskaris. And very little ceremony. "I shall not belabor this. I do not think either of us should consider it an honor." The captain's pins are pushed across the desk to him.
Lasher is rather obviously conflicted as the pins are pushed towards him. There's a long silence, and he studies Cidra with a slightly furrowed brow before reaching out to accept the pins. His mouth tightens, but eventually he nods. "Yeah, I get the picture. I'm getting these because I'm the only possible choice, not because I frakkin' deserve 'em, right?" A definite sense of bitterness pervades his tone, but he seems to be directing it as much inwardly as anywhere else.
"Watch your tone, Captain." Cidra replies coolly. "Petulance does not become an officer a decade your junior. Yes, you are the only choice. It is a burden you should not have to bear at this stage in your career. But, that can be said of all of us now. It is time to do away with fiction that your are interim squad leader. There shall be no reinforcements from Picon." She regards him steadily across the desk. "And I would not give these to you if you did not deserve them. You have been put under tremendous pressure. You have not broken. That is enough now. You are raw, and very young to it. Too young in your career were this four months ago. But it is not. So take them and earn them. The Knights need that. I need that."
Laskaris straightens in his chair, flushing even further. "I… apologize, sir." Wonder of wonders, he sounds like he means it, too. "You're right." His eyes glance downward at the pins, and he rolls them around in his hand for a moment before looking back up to the CAG. His mouth works for a moment before words finally come out. "The situation is far from perfect, aye. But I… I do appreciate the faith you've shown in me." His jaw sets determinedly. "It won't be misplaced."
"I consider myself a fair judge of character, Anton," Cidra says. "I do not intend for you to prove me wrong." Again, the barest hint of a smile comes to her lips. "And it is always far from perfect. Perhaps now more than any other time, but I cannot say I felt any better for it when I was pinned with mine. Know I am here to support you, and the Knights, in any way you require. How is it with your squadron now? I know these times are most difficult. For all of us."
Lasher gives a jerky nod in response, though he doesn't match Cidra's smile. There's another long silence from the man, and he adjusts himself in his chair restlessly before finally answering Cid's question with a sigh. "In all honesty? It's not good, Major." The shame and hurt pride at that admission is obvious on the man's angular features. "I stand by the decisions I've made as squadron leader thus far, sir, don't get me wrong. But…" Another long sigh. "I don't know. I can't shake this feeling that I've somehow made a horrible mistake somewhere back down the line in dealing with them. It's been weighing on my mind of late."
Cidra makes a low "Ah" sound. "As I said. You are raw, Lasher." It is not a criticism. And she does not seem particularly surprised or off-put by what he says. If anything, she nods in something resembling approval. "No one is born knowing how to command. I still feel myself inadequate to it on many days. I have just learned to hide it. Or tried to." Said wryly. She slips a cigarette and lighter out of her desk, getting one burning. "And these are the worst of times to be thrust into it. If you have made mistakes…well. We all make them. They have, from what I've seen, not been in the field where it would've cost lives of your people. That is why you are the only choice. Being a leader is very different from being even a senior lieutenant. Your squad will look to you. Not just for orders, but for direction in how to conduct themselves. For support. You are their example, for better or worse."
Lasher snorts ever so lightly. "Fine example," he mutters, sotto voce. Following the CAG's lead, he extracts a cigarette of his own, and the flick of a chrome lighter sets the tip aflame. "So I'm learning, sir," he affirms more audibly a moment later. An eyebrow raises, and a hint of humor is finally allowed onto his face at her admission. "Hnh. You hide it well." Lasher purses his lips thoughtfully as he listens to her last. "So I'm learning," he repeats, a trickle of smoke escaping his nostrils with a sibilant hiss.
"Most of the time," Cidra says in not-quite-agreement, taking a long drag. "Anyhow. In combat, I do not have doubts about you as a leader. That is something some pilots who are wonders with people never master. And it is, right now, of the utmost importance. For the rest…you will learn. Just talk to your people, Lasher. That is the first step. Listen to them. Know them as if they were your own. For they are now. And let them know you and see that you have the utmost care for them, the defense of the ship and its people. The rest, it shall into place in time."
Lasher nods, and smiles crookedly. "Now… if'n I can only master returnin' from a fight without trashin' a bloody Viper in the process," he notes, his tone dry as a desert wind. For a moment, it's Dueling Smokers, as Laskaris raises his own cigarette to his lips a scant moment after Cidra does. "I don't doubt you're right, sir. I only hope I have enough time."
"There is no crime in deploying evasive tactics now and then," Cidra says mildly. "You will do well." It is somewhere between encouragement and an order. Though she does not let him go yet. "This does bring up something. You and Lieutenant Sophronia. You seem close. That is good. A Captain needs to rely on his strong lieutenants. However. You are her most direct commanding officer and shall continue to be for the forseeable. I do not care if my pilots…are friendly with one another." Ahem. "But a squad leader cannot afford to be so with the pilots he commands. We understand each other."
Lasher laughs, a harsh, barking sound that echoes in the close confines of the CAG's office. "I once had an instructor compare me to a 'rabid shark on steroids'. And not in a flattering way, either." He nods. "I'll try to remember that, though." Another short chuckle dies in his throat, however, at the mention of Allie. He remains calm and relaxed, though. "Hnh." He pulls another breath of smoke into his lungs. "She'd like to be closer than we are, I think. But… you needn't worry on that account, Major. We're of a mind on this, at least."
Cidra nods short. For a moment, a trace of relief that she does not actually have to have a conversation with him about his sex life /might/ pass over her face. Might. You blink and you miss such insights into the usually composed CAG. Moving right along. She stands. "Very good." A hand is extended to him. "I have not made this moment grand for you. These are not days for ceremony. Know that I trust you to be one of my strong arms. Clear eyes and hunting, Captain."
Lasher didn't blink. In fact, he has to suppress a smug smirk of his own at the CAG's moment of relief at not having to broach… well, a delicate subject. He stands along with her, taking her hand in a strong grip and shaking briskly. "No. They're not." He shrugs, before squaring his shoulders and snapping off a salute. "They are… what they are. We can only hope to survive them." The cigarette in his off hand, almost forgotten, is stamped out in Cidra's ashtray. "Thank you, Major." With that, he turns to leave, his back ramrod straight as he strides to the hatch.
Cidra acknowledges the salute and lets Laskaris go, without further ado.