PHD #343: MidRats
Summary: MidRats brings three Air Wing and one Marine together for conversation and something that passes for food.
Date: 04/FEB/2042 AE
Related Logs: None
Cidra Devlin Lunair Marko 
Behind the two hangar decks, the Cerberus' Galley is the largest room on the ship. Nearly half the size of a football field, the eating area is made up of long lines of stainless steel tables that can be folded up and placed against the wall for larger events. Individual seats are the standard military issue, boring and grey with lowest-bidder padding. The line for food stretches across one of the shorter sides of the room while the kitchen behind works nearly twenty-four hours a day to produce either full meals or overnight snacks and coffee for the late shifts.
Post-Holocaust Day: #343

-=[ Condition Level: 3 - All Clear ]=---------

Over the 1MC comes the old familiar twang-hum followed by: "Attention, Attention, MidRats now serving in the Galley. Repeat, MidRats now serving in the Galley. All non-watch holders may report to the Galley for MidRats at this time." Words that, as always, elicit a rush of hungry black shoes, snipes, air dales and other rates towards the galley to fall into the queue for the last night's meal before the Galley closes until 0500 for the first Breakfast sitting. For Marko, it means a quick towel-off from the shower he was in the middle of, a struggle into his off-duty greens and a mad dash from Air Wing country to here.

Cidra is in her flight suit as she strides into the galley, albeit it's unzipped at the moment. Presently she's only flying a chow tray. Or intends to. Toward the line she goes. As she approaches the line, Marko is spotted. "Ah. Flasher." Barest hint of a smile in greeting to the LTJG. "The call of the midrat is enticing for you as well, I do see."

Yay! Midrats! Lunair is amongst the snipes and hordes. She pauses, noticing those in flight suits. She seems a bit worried. A smile at a passing air dale. She seems more quiet than usual, perhaps thoughtful. She's off-duty for now. But what grabs her attention is Marko and Cidra. She quirks a brow and smiles, heading over once her tray is loaded up. "Sirs." She beams.

" Heh, it's just about the one meal I can count on making, sir." Marko chuckles to Cidra, snagging a tray just behind Cidra and turning to beam at Lunair. "Hey there, hon." he calls. "Wow, twice in a week! That's gotta be a record." he winks playfully. "So, looks like we're ready to go tomorrow." he adds, surveying the serving line curiously. "Hey, look, Lun, they've got carrots!" he grins.

"Bootstrap has worked out some very fine ideas on how to approach the mine field, and Poppy has drilled the Vipers well in them," Cidra replies to Marko, as to tomorrow. "If all goes to plan, our part in Operation Silent Mastiff should actually be rather simple." 'If.' The 'if', as always, sits uneasy with her before a mission goes off. "Well, we are as prepared as we can be. The rest is execution. Ah. Lieutenant." The last to Lunair, who earns another faintest-of-smiles as she moves forward to get her food. "How does the day find you?"

Lunair is respectfully silent a moment. She looks amused and smiles, then laughs softly. "I know, a mythical husband sighting. Twice in one week?" She seems disbelieving, but happy. She smiles at his wink. "I wish you lots of luck if I am not on the list to go," She remarks quietly. "And ah! They do!" She seems pleased. A look to Cidra. "I am much better now, sir. It goes, as time is wont to. Whether I'd like it or not," She considers. "I am much happier for seeing both of you. I hope you're well?"

"Well, in that respect, sir, I think we'll do pretty well, if I may be so bold." Marko replies with a bit of a smile even as he plunks his tray down to receive the meager ration of carrots along with the many, many other expressions of protein and nutrients to which the Colonial Fleet liberally apply the moniker of 'food'. "Doing, good, hon." he adds for his wife's benefit. "Just getting ready for Mastiff and all the fun that'll entail. Do we have a roster of who's flying who?" he asks Cidra, cocking his head curiously. "Or do I need to know that?"

Devlin arrives from the Deck 9.

"Last I saw of the rosters were you were down to fly with Bunny," Cidra replies to Marko. "Presuming no changes - and it is foolish to make them this close to an op - prepare for that. Ah. Carrots." The portion of them that's delivered onto her plate draws an approving nod. She's done with the line by now, though she takes her time getting her coffee, scanning the tables for a free seat. "Would the pair of you care to join me? I would not impose upon your personnel time, but I would not mind the company."

Lunair smiles. "I believe in you," And Luck. And the Gods. That won't stop her from throwing up a few quiet prayers for her husband and his friends. She nods at Marko. "I am glad to hear that," She admits quietly. "I don't know if I'm on the roster just yet - I doubt it if not now," She sighs, seeming disappointing. She goes quiet though, and smiles as Cidra gets her carrots. "I would not mind if Marko does not." She is going through the line with Marko and Cidra, seeming cheered for their presence.

MidRats time and the Galley is full to bursting with hungry shipmates pulling odd hours. The menu selection tonight is the standard 'I can't believe it's not food' that the Colonial Fleet is so (in)famous for, plus a tiny helping of fresh carrots on each plate. The hydroponics project is really starting to pay dividends, as there seems to be enough for everyone to get a few. Marko is on the chow line with his wife while Cidra scopes out a spot big enough for the three of them.

"That sounds good to me, sir." he replies, nodding. "Got a few other things I'd like to talk to you about as well." he says, moving off the serving line to fill up an industrial porcelain mug emblazined with BS-132 and the ship's logo emblazoned on it with bug juice.

Cidra takes her tray over to a table and sits. She starts in on her coffee before her meal, sipping it carefully while it is still hot. She scores a table that's reasonably sparsely populated for now, so they can fit in as they will. "Do you now?" A curious look to Marko. "Well, we both of us have time while we digest, Lieutenant. At your liberty."

Devlin enters the line a ways behind Marko, Lunair, and Cidra, waiting his turn to collect rations and carrots as they're passed out. He yawns, eyes closed, for a good portion of his way through the line, arm finally lifting so he can scrub at his face as the yawn draws eventually to a close. Eyes re-open in time to hear Cidra inviting people to join her, and when his tray is full a few minutes later, he meanders in that direction. "Room for one more?" he asks.

Lunair is happy to have spotted her husband for the second time in a week. He's practically a unicorn for all she knows. But she does seem pleased some of the hydroponics work is starting to pay off. Even enough for all of them! She nods and helps look for a seat, following Cidra. The CAG is wise and inscrutable. She smiles and listens, as she settles in to eat. "I don't mind if they don't," She even scoots to make sure Devlin has a good seat and room.

"Sure thing, pull up a chair." Marko calls to Devlin, nodding to the man as he takes a seat next to his wife and leans over to brush his lips against her cheek. Public Display of Affection in front of a superior officer, yep. And he's not the least ashamed of it. "I do indeed, sir, Sweet Pea figured out the errors in my plot." he says simply, figuring Cidra to be deft enough to catch the reference. "So we've got a full orbit projection now."

"Decoy. Hello. Certainly." Replied to Devlin as Cidra settles into her meal, though her attention remains on Marko. "Of the unidentified ship? Very good. Can you posit anything further on the craft from it? I doubt we shall get scouts back to it until after Silent Mastiff is settled, but it remains a priority for Command. A most…curious thing."

"Thanks," Devlin replies to all involved as he takes another of the chairs at the table, tray set down upon it. He takes a sip of water, listening curiously, and then begins eating as he does, asking, "Does the orbit, like…show where it's been or where it's come from or anything? I suppose you'd have to be able to plot it on a map or something. Have we even got those, for how long it's been out?"

Lunair blushes at that and gently returns the quick kiss. Daw. She smiles faintly. "That's very impressive," She admits, her voice soft. She seems out of her area of expertise, but quite proud of Marko and his efforts nevertheless. She will eat with impeccable manners and listen into the conversation. "Didn't someone take samples or something?" She offers quietly.

Marko nods between forkfuls as he eats. "Yeah, we took samples when we boarded her, Engineering's already processed them." he replies simply. "And no, the orbit she's on now's just an extrapolation of where she was parked once she came here, Decoy." he adds. "There's a few thousand years worth of stellar drift to take into account as well,." he notes, then chuckles. "Which Sweet Pea helped twig me to."

"Thousand years, my gods…" Cidra murmurs, allowing a trace of awe into her tone. She clears her throat, giving her head a small shake. As if pulling it off some thought. "Well. We shall see more of it soon enough. I had meant to speak with the both of you, actually." A slight inclination of her head to Marko and Lunair as a pair.

"Ohhh," Devlin replies with a slow nod that doesn't necessarily indicate actual understanding, and nor does his, "Gotcha." He takes a few bites of his meal, listening, and then happens to glance down at his watch, and blinks, and curses, "Shit." He straightens abruptly, and starts getting to his feet, apologizing, "Sorry, I promised I'd be in the gym… and now I'm late, I've gotta run. Sorry, guys. Nice to see you, Marko, Lunair, Cidra, sir. I'll see you all later, yeah?" His smile is friendly and a bit chagrined, tray carried off and disposed of before he heads quickly out.

"No worries, Dev." Marko replies, nodding amiably. "Take care. See you soon, no doubt." he adds, polishing off the last of his meal with the aplomb of someone too hungry to really care what they're eating. "You were?" he asks Cidra, cocking his head curiously as, under the table, he fumbles for Lunair's hand. "May I inquire as to the subject?"

Lunair quirks a brow at that. She is listening for now. A smile at the news of Sweet Pea. "It's alright. Be well. And yes, see you around." She waves at Devlin, her voice cool, soft and gently as usual. She resumes eating. She will let Marko find her free hand and curl her fingers about his. She peers over to Cidra. "Sir?"

"You are aware Captain Quinn is living in what was the Guest Quarters since her child was born?" Cidra asks of them. "A portion of the bunks have been converted so there would be room for her and the baby. The place is not really used anymore, with the QUODEL civilians in large part moved to the Elpis. It has become an option for family housing. I do hope there are no further children on board for some time, but for a married couple it could be made into a space where they could share some privacy. Command seems amenable to opening it up to such."

Lunair tilts her head at that. "No, I was not. I am glad they were able to accommodate her. It's been tough for her. She's felt really lonely and frustrated unable to fly," She notes quietly. "But I am happy it worked out." She seems pleased. "And I hope so too. A Battlestar is no place for little kids," She frowns. "Granted… perhaps someday but." Not for now. Not until she and Marko are good and ready it seems. "But … that might be nice," She seems brightened by this idea. "Are they?

"That sounds interesting." Marko muses, looking thoughtful. "They do, of course, realize that by opening up private quarters, they're basically asking for more babies?" he asks with a grin. "If its an option, the bunks, not the babies, I mean." he adds quickly. "Then that would be nice. Beats sneaking in and out of each other's quarters like teenagers." he chuckles softly.

"Military grade birth control, Lieutenants. Use it," Cidra says mildly. But it is an order. An unofficial one maybe but…yeah. "In any case, do think it over. It would require the permission of Major Willows-Cavanaugh as well as myself, of course. But you can presume you would have mine were you to take the option." On that note she digs further into her meal. The carrots, particularly.

"Of course," Lunair agrees quietly. She nods and smiles at Marko. She definitely looks amused for a moment. "I don't know, a Mini Marko would be cute but ill-timed," She shakes her head. Then turns briiiiiight red at the mention of sneaking around quarters. Ahem. She straightens a bit, smiling. "I would be glad to ask if we consider it," She looks to Marko, perhaps tallying his vote. "Thank you for telling us sir. And don't worry. I wouldn't stress Marko over parenthood right now." A headshake at that again.

"Heh, as much saltpeter's in this food?" Marko chuckles, blushing slightly himself. "No worries, Toast." he smiles. "No babies on this front for the foreseeable future." he adds. giving his wife's hand a kind of 'but one day' squeeze. "So, do you think you could put up with living with me at close range?" he asks Lunair with a bit of a teasing smirk.

"Good." Cidra confines her opinion on breeding to one, short syllable and a nod of affirmation to Lunair's last. And continues to eat. The carrots - which do appears to be what she came for mostly - disappear quickly. So she's soon down to nursing her coffee. "I shall leave the pair of you to discuss it," she says. "Though I do thank you much for your company. I shall be on duty soon."

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