| Midshipman's Revelations |
| Summary: | Sonja gets a dose of reality about life in the fleet. |
| Date: | 17 Jan 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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| Observation Deck - Deck 3 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| With a quiet view to the stars, this tends to be one of the more popular 'quiet areas' of the Cerberus. Up front is a small-unseated area for ceremonies or other activities while the seating rises up behind it. Each level rises up behind the one before it, comfortable chairs and couches set up for crewmembers to relax, get some work done or even take a nap. A large armored plate is lowered during Condition One to protect the interior against a breach in the glass. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #325 |
A head peers into observation deck, which happens to belong to Midshipman Lyon. She's doing her happy fun explore time again, a new room behind every door and she's found a few today already! "Would you look at that." Sonja's voice is filled with awe at the sight of the stars before her. "Prettiest darn thing I've seen in a long time." She keeps her voice low, having the inclination that perhaps this is an inside voice place. Her fingers touch something cold suddenly and it's only then she realizes she walked straight to the screen more then likely glassed eyed and rather astonished at the sight before her.
The idea that this is a place for low voices comes from the reduced lighting used to make the view even more spectacular. Save for a few bright spots directly under the lights, the majority of the room is kept dim, to keep it quiet and private…or at least to falsely lure someone into thinking the space is in fact private. The sound of someone bumping the glass gets one of the only other occupants to look up, closing the book she has, and to observe this person who has obviously not been to the observation deck before.
Sonja doesn't even notice the dimmed lights or the faint sound of someone closing a book, she's totally and utterly engrossed in the stars. "It's just so beautiful." She whispers, not even daring to blink least the sight be suddenly taken from her: a sharp in-take of breath comes from her direction; she had forgotten to breath. Slowly she comes around, having gotten over the initial shock of the star filled heavens. Sensing someone else in the room, Sonja pivots around giving the woman a nod as a slow smile comes to her lips. "Sorry, I guess I was kinda glazed over there for a second." A quick glance at the other occupant, confirms them to be military but what she can't tell off hand. "Hi," she adds, not offering a hand — most people haven't shaken it, so she's kinda given up on offering. "I'm Sonja Lyon, Midshipman."
"Major Madilyn Willows-Cavanaugh, Colonial Marine Corps. But since I'm off-duty, there's no reason to be official with it. It occurs to me that if you're so glazed over by the stars, piloting a Viper or a Raptor may not be the best career choice." Of course, Madilyn has no way to know off-hand whether she truly is going for officer status to fly, but it's a better than 50/50 chance and she plays the percentages. Last time it came down to a numbers game, some people are saying she bet the wrong way.
Sonja gives the woman a salute before she's finished getting her name out. "It's a pleasure to meet you Sir," she says cheerfully. "It's kinda different when you're in a cockpit, not that I'm one-hundred percent sure, just been in the sims. But this," she points behind her. "It's just amazing, the view that is." She dares to peek over her shoulders. "I think it'll be different once I'm flying for real…I hope." A sheepish grin graces her lips briefly.
"For your sake, I hope so too. Distracted pilots tend to be dead pilots…or so I've heard. Flying isn't something I'm particular good at; I find the cockpits terribly uncomfortable for my own part." The book that was closed earlier is a slim, unmarked leather volume; the page is marked with a sliver of something. Whether it's a photo, a scrap slip of paper, a postcard is impossible to say, even if one takes a glimpse when Madilyn stands up and before she slides it behind her back. "Though, the interior of a tank is even worse. That's been so long ago, though. So very long."
Sonja seems to have such a large array of different smiles one would think she's simple. "Noted Sir," she says, stumbling over the unfamiliar military talk. She heard it was polite to acknowledge when someone gives you advice. "I'm sure I'll be fine though, got a lot more to think about then the view, as you pointed out not dying is a good thing." She glances briefly at the book, then back to the female marine. "Say I've been looking for some extra hand-to-hand training,. I used to wrestle all the time back home, so I got pretty good at the grappling and throws. Just need more training in what you military folks do. If you know someone who has the time, send them my way if you don't mind sir?"
To the girl's query into extra hand-to-hand, Madilyn just nods. Her expression isn't aggressive or disagreeable, nor is it overly friendly or welcoming; it just is, stony, with some dark circles forming under the eyes and a sort of far-away stare through the girl and beyond, into space through the viewing glass. "There was some interest among the pilots for additional combat training. I'll have to remind my marines to make time for their training commitments," she says with a small nod.
Sonja doesn't seem too affected by the stony display as they are at war and people tend to hide behind a facade more often then nod. "I'd appreciate it sir, never know when you're going to be in the middle of nowhere without a weapon to defend yourself with." The silence lingers between them for a few moments.
"My job, if I do it correctly, is to see that that never really happens, not to a pilot, or not for long. But then, things haven't exactly gone as planned, have they? Not since I've set foot aboard this boat; not since anyone's set foot aboard it, in fact. That all seems like ancient history by now, I suspect," Madilyn comments. Whether the midshipman catches the meaning or not seems inconsequential to the woman, who appears to be in a reflective mood.
Roland arrives from Deck 3.
Roland has arrived.
Sonja isn't sure what to say and it takes her a good few minutes to comment. "I don't think any of us excepted what has happened over the last few weeks. If nothing else it's taught us to be prepared, and that we have skills beyond our normal professions. I never dreamed I'd join the military and live on board a battlestar…but here we are." Whether or not she's caught the meaning isn't clear, she's just trying to coax the woman out of her mood or simply but an ear to listen and reflect upon.
Sonja and Madilyn are over near the large viewing screen talking quietly to one another, Sonja has her back to the stars while the marine is facing her.
Madilyn gives a little chuckle at that comment, perceiving it in a rather droll way. "You have no idea just how true that is. Truly." That, of course, in reference to the fact that Madilyn may be the most unlikely candidate ever to be one of the highest ranking marines left alive after Those Things happened to humanity.
Roland moves through the steady stream of people coming to and from the observation deck. It looks like a pretty popular place. He gets sidetracked by a couple of Vipers flashing between the ships, and moves over to the glass, looking to see who it was. He pushes away from the view, and turns scanning the people nearby looking for someone.
Sonja can't help but grin when the woman chuckles, finally a positive emotion from her. "Trust me Sir, I know I'm farm-bred from Leonis. I'm the most unlikely person ever to join the military. Look at me, I'd break in the smallest wind." As Roland comes into sight Sonja lifts a hand to waves at him, her smile warm. "Lieutenant Roland!" she calls softly. "Come join us?" She glances at Madilyn for her permission.
"I don't speak pilot-ese, if that's what you're planning to do," Madilyn replies to the young pilot. "But this is a public place, and there's not much I can do to stop more people from gathering; not off-duty, at least." She's not about to continue talking standing up, either, it seems. She feels her way backwards to the chair that she was occupying moments before, and sits back down.
Roland glances up when he hears his rank and name. He moves toward them stepping around someone that else that pushes toward the view. He nods over to Sonja, "Hey…I didn't." He pauses, and looks over to Madilyn for a moment, and nods to the Marine. "Sir." He looks back to Sonja, and smiles slightly. "Is there anyone on the boat you won't talk to?"
Sonja shakes her head. "I can't talk pilot-ese either, sir so no worries there." She likes the idea of getting off her derriere and sits down also on one of the couches, kicking off her boots she brings her small legs behind her and eases back comfortably. "It's always good to get in with the locals," she says with a bright smile. "I'm not a social butterfly so much as I'm just well friendly and eager."
"I wish I could say I wasn't a local, or that this wasn't my home, but like everyone else, I am, and it is. No homes to return to, no end in sight for this conflict." Some would call it a war, but that would imply some equal footing between combatants; Madilyn is not so free with her interpretation, it would seem. "I'll never see the place where I was born again before I die, and the fact that I accept that is what is truly alarming."
Roland glances between them, as the conversation goes suddenly serious. He stays silent, and looks over to Sonja as she sits down.
Sonja looks guilty for a moment. "Didn't mean to seem crass there sir. I understand that and perhaps I should have chosen another name," she says, glancing down at her hands for a second, then lays them on her fatigues. "I know how you feel though. I'll never breath the cool fresh air of home again, or hear the sounds of my brothers in the hay barn bantering, or pick a grape from the first crop of the harvest. It's kinda hard to imagine the things we've lost; overwhelming sometimes. I still cry, I think we'll be mourning for generations." She glances now towards Roland, sighing softly as her eyes go to the space next to her, inviting him to sit down if he wishes it.
"We're in it for the species, at this point. I just wish people would see it the way I do," Madilyn says to the two of them, though the comment doesn't seem to be directed at them. It's a reflection on some of the events of the past week or so, things that have gone above and beyond what she would've ever imagined happening on the tour she was signed up for.
Roland moves slowly over to the seat next to Sonja, and sits down. He glances over to her before looking back to the Marine, unsure what to make of it all.
Sonja sighs softly, a hand lightly touching Roland's arm before it's placed back onto her thigh. "Fight to the death and I'm not sure it's not going to be our own. We'll either die out or get wiped out." Such wonderful positive thoughts tonight.
"And some of us may not even make it that far," Madilyn says with a strained, weird, pained little tug of a smile on her lips. "I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing, though. For all the advances we've made, and as far as we've come, there are still some things that escape us." Just what, she doesn't seem inclined to say.
Roland shakes his head, "Its sounds really bleak, but most of don't have the luxury of makin' sure the planets keep turnin.' You deal with what you can. You fly straighter. Shoot straighter. Work harder. That's about all you can do. If you try to eat an elephant all at once, you'll choke. You have to eat the frakker one chew at a time."
Sonja is beginning to understand Madilyn and she'd rather wish she didn't. "Another reason we need every good officer we have," she comments giving the marine a leveled look. "None of expected to be here, but like I told a few others, I saw it my duty to sign up. I had skills the fleet could use. I may not be the best pilot we got, not even close, but I'll do my part just like everyone else and maybe somewhere down the line I'll surprise myself and do something exceptional and make all my training worth while." She glances at Roland, a burst of laughter escaping from her lips. "Trust Blue to make the mood anything but, Blue," she chuckles.
"Well, I guess that's why the gods saw fit to give us power tools, no? And barring that, there are always marines looking to play demoman for a day. Or at the very least, for the few milliseconds it takes to blow up an elephant…hypothetically speaking, that is." Madilyn cracks a wan smile at that thought.
Roland chuckles, and nods several times. "Hoo-rah Sir."
Sonja pauses her lips and asks thoughtfully. "I wonder what an elephant tastes like." Then she gets the image of exploded elephant guts flying everywhere and she doesn't seem to curious anymore. "Oh second thought…hey you trying to jump ship Lieutenant? Wanna go native and wear green instead?" she comments after Blue's hoo-rah.
"If that's your intent, you may want to Lieutenant Ulixes. He managed to go green for some time, before we found him, I mean." As Madilyn says that, she's on the rise already. "While I hate having to cut such stimulating hypothetical conversation short, I'm afraid my time sitting here musing is expired." A single nod is all the two pilots get on her way to the hatch.
Roland nods over to the Marine, as she stands up. "Good luck with the elephants Sir."
Sonja seems disappointed that the Major is leaving and stands up to give her a nod. "It was nice meeting you Major. Happy hunting," Sonja says before sitting back down and watching her leave.