PHD #173: New Toys
New Toys
Summary: New nugget Ania meets her CAG. Devlin is a mostly innocent bystander.
Date: 18 Aug 2041 AE
Related Logs: Takes place the morning after Carrier Landings!
Cidra Ania Devlin 
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.
Post-Holocaust Day: #173

Cidra is prowling the hangar deck, a not uncommon sight. She's dressed in duty greens rather than either flight gear or blues. So she will likely be here for awhile, engaged in vaguely dirt-under-fingernails matters that don't strictly involve flying aircraft. She's standing by a Viper Mark VII at the moment in conversation with a Deck crew chief. A cup of coffee in one hand, from which is is drinking deeply. She has a vaguely…pinched look about her face. As if she is in a poor mood. Or has a monster headache. Or both. Her conversation with the deckie appears rather clipped and involves a lot of hand gestures on her part. The mechanic is just kind of standing there and nodding, looking like he's waiting for it to end.

Ania's got a slightly slow walk today, the sort that stiff muscles give you. Clutching her manual, her notebook and a couple of other books to her, she heads into the hangar with the slightly gaping expression of someone not familiar with it. She doesn't stare open-mouthed as much as just tries to look at everything at once and ends up looking overwhelmed. Stopping one of the crew, they have some sort of exchange for a moment and he points over at Cidra. Ania peeks around him, nods, gives a flash of a smile and heads that way. "Uhm, excuse me, Major Hahn?" she asks once she's close enough. "I mean uh /sir/." The last part seems tacked on and uncertain.

Cidra turns. "What?" The mechanic takes this opportunity to escape, saluting and making some excuse about scheduled maintenance that, while probably true, can't possibly be as pressing as the way he scurries off to it suggests. This leaves Cidra with her full attention on Ania. She gulps more coffee, eyeing the younger woman. What she actually looks, upon closer inspection, is deeply hung-over.

Ania juggles her books to one arm and salutes, though it's awkward and a bit stiff. Awkward because of not being used to it, stiff because her entire body is one giant muscle that is protesting movement. Someone started PT yesterday and is paying for it today. "I was told to talk to you. Sir. Major. Sir." Yeah, someone's stumbling over that part a bit. "I'm Ania Kostasia. New uh nugget. Sir." She flashes her best smile and tries to look like she's not the slightest bit unsure of herself, though even she can't cover it all the way. "Uhm, I—" she trails off a bit and digs into her pocket for a moment, pulling out a couple of little aspirin-type of pills that she holds out in her open palm. "I have these to take later when the ones I took wear off, but if you'd like them, they aren't really doing much for me and you look like you could use them. Sir. I mean, you look like you have a headache."

Cidra brings her arm up for a fluid return of that salute, for her part. She's been doing it so long that the movement is instinctive by now. "Elbow stiffer, Midshipman. Your drill sergeant will be far less kind about that sort of sloppiness than I am. I hope." More coffee is guzzled. The pills are *eyed*. She looks less than appreciative of the offer. "No, thank you. I have had several of those this morning. Anymore and my blood will be thin enough that a papercut may very well kill me." Deadpanned. "Pain is gift, Midshipman. It teaches us many valuable lessons. And yes. I am Major Cidra Hahn. Kostasia?" It takes a moment for the name to align in her mind. "Ah. Yes. One of the brand new ones." She looks the woman up and down. There's a steadiness to her gaze, and weighing quality, though it's hard to read what, if anything, she immediately makes of Ania.

Ania slips the pills back into her pocket and tucks her books against her chest, nodding at the last part as she listens. "Uh yeah. Yes. Sir. Uhm, brand new. As of yesterday. I'm still learning all the uh, the protocol and things. I'll work on my salute. Thank you." She seems to fluctuate between eager newbie and overwhelmed scared girl with brief flashes of overconfident civilian thrown in for flavor. "I see you had a chance to read my file. I hope you found it uh… satisfactory. I know I'm not the most experienced candidate, but we all have to start at some point and I look forward to starting."

Cidra drinks deeply of her coffee some more. Draining her cup. "I require more of this. Walk with me, please." Despite the pleasantry on the end, it has the general sound of a command. She strides off to chase a deckie down who can procure her some brew. Clearly expecting Ania to follow. As to the satisfactory quality of the woman's file, she shrugs. "You were accepted into nugget training, Midshipman Kostasia. You are acceptable enough for that. There is a far steeper learning curve to flight training than in the other departments on this ship, it is practically a sheer cliff for one who has never been in a plane before. I am taking whatever I can get. So. What made you want to join up?"

Ania does indeed follow along, still clutching her books to her chest like they might give her some sort of armor against the unfamiliarity of the deck. Her eyes still flicker from place to place as she walks, keeping up next to Cidra and glancing at her at times, nodding. "Thank you," she says in a quiet, almost uncertain voice at the being acceptable enough. At the last question, she hesitates a brief moment, possibly deciding that 'Because Evan said that it was a much better way to die!' might not be the best response. "We can't really afford /not/ to, I suppose. The only difference between military and non-military is the training. I mean, the training gives you the uh— the structure that makes it easier to deal with these situations. We're all just trying to survive and it may come down to, literally, every last man stepping up to be part of that protection… Can I be completely honest?"

Devlin arrives from Midship.

Cidra is prowling the hangar deck. In duty greens rather than her more typical flight gear or duty blues, respectively. So she's likely engaged in some vaguely dirt-under-fingernails duty here that does not actually call for flying a plane. At the moment, however, she's just prowling with Ania. She procures a fresh cup of coffee from a specialist on duty near the Chief's Office. And drinks deeply from it. She looks…hung over, is the best way to describe it, upon close inspection. "The difference between military and non-military is duty and capability, Kostasia. Training is a part of that, but not the whole. But you are correct, at least, in that we really cannot afford to waste whatever skills we may have right now. Honors to your service." A little toast with her cup, before more coffee guzzling is done. "I apologize that I have not yet had the opportunity to meet you personally. I do like to get a look at the new recruits. Command is planning a return to the colonies, Sagittaron first and foremost, and it has been most involving."

"It's not the duty that overwhelms me, it's the capability," Ania mentions. "I just hope I can live up to it. Learning to do something doesn't necessarily mean you'll /excel/ at it." She has her books clutched to her chest and is prowling alongside Cidra. Whereas Cidra is hungover, Ania is stiff. Stiff and sore from her first day of being forced to use muscles she didn't know the human body even had. "And I understand. You're very busy. That's why I thought I would seek you out to introduce myself properly." Even as they walk and talk and things, Ania kinda looks around as if overwhelmed by the setting and afraid she'll do or say something she shouldn't now, like maybe she's already missing life as a civilian.

Devlin is in greens too since, well… 'on-duty' isn't really a thing he ever is yet and he's not allowed in a plane yet and so has no need of a flightsuit, either. He also looks a little bit grey, and moves like he's bruised (which his bare arms and shoulders are, darkly). It's not entirely clear just what he's doing on the deck this morning but when Cidra and Ania are noticed, he lifts his coffee-cup hand in greeting and ambles over. "Morning, sir," he greets Cidra without his usual nod, head turning only slightly to add, "Morning, Ania."

"You think so, do you?" Cidra fixes Ania with another of those cloudy blue *looks*. "I firmly believe that anyone can learn a thing, Midshipman. Albeit some can learn it *better* than others. It is the duty that is the difficult part. As it involves mastering oneself rather than just a task. We shall see what you make of it, though." More mental weighing from those eyes. Still no real clue what she thinks of the younger woman. "I have you assigned to Viper training once you are through with Basic, I vaguely recall." It takes her a moment to dredge from her mind *why*. "Ah. Yes. You flew the…little toys." The pause from when she was perhaps searching for a better term for the planes Ania was familiar with pre-attacks, but none apparently came to her. She turns her stride back toward where some of the Vipers are arrayed for work, now that she's got her coffee. It takes them past Devlin's 'work' area, come to it. "Mister Devlin." It is deadpanned, but she probably does not *mean* it to be unfriendly. More coffee is drunk.

"Uhm, I had an Eclipse," Ania says in an almost murmur at mention of her experience as she moves alongside Cidra. "Hi Alex!" she chirps, brightening at seeing him, though she quickly erases the smile from her expression and forces herself into a more neutral look. She very quietly clears her throat a bit. "I'll do my best, sir." She may mean the mastering of oneself aspect of it, since that had her nodding again. She does take a moment to look over a Viper and lets out a quiet whistle without realizing she's doing it.

"Nice to see you this morning, sir," Devlin adds to Cidra, his smile just a little too innocent, just for a second. Then he's sipping his coffee, and rubbing at the side of his head with the heel of his hand, the motion revealing the dark bruises scattered along the underside of his arm. "So you're all official, now?" he asks Ania, starting to nod and then stopping, and taking another sip of coffee instead before continuing, "Cool. If I can help — well, I'm not the best person to help with anything, really, but. Lemme know. You're all moved in?"

"A toy, yes." Cidra nods short when Ania gives the actual model name. She pauses by one of the Viper Mark VIIs. Faintest of smiles curved at Ania's whistle. "This, Midshipman, is *not* a toy. You have no experience with fighter craft, as I do understand it, from your papers. Did you ever consider joining the military in civilian life?" Devlin and his innocence earn a long look. She has no bruises that are readily apparent in her greens, but she moves a little gingerly in ways that suggest she is not unscathed.

"Me? Uh, no," Ania admits to Cidra. She tucks her books a bit tighter to her chest. "And I'll admit, being in the military isn't why I'm in it now. I need to learn to do something to help and this? Well this I think I'm more suited to than some of the other options." She keeps looking over the lines of the Viper. "Never been this close to one before. It's so… small." No, it's not /small/. She just must have thought it was, well, /bigger/ somehow. To Devlin she nods. "Yeah, didn't exactly have a whole lot to move but it's all settled in. Still learning my way around, though. Got lost last night trying to find my way back." She pauses and asks him, voice lowered a tiny bit, "Are you alright?" She seems to have noticed his bruises. Cidra's aren't so noticable so aren't paid any attention to.

Devlin sort of drifts along with the women, stopping by the Mark VII as they do. He crosses his arms and looks at the craft, offering in answer to the question he wasn't asked: "I did. I almost enlisted, in the navy or the marines." Why he didn't he does not say, just blinks once at Ania's question and then says, "Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just fell off a table. Twice." He flashes her a quick grin, and then flicks a sideways look at Cidra like he's debating asking her a question. He doesn't.

"Yes, they are small." This observation makes Cidra smirk. Oh-so-faintly amused. "My primary training is in Raptor flight, myself." She gestures to one of the buses getting its gimble worked on not far away. "They are bigger." Albeit, admittedly, not quite as pretty. "Each craft serve quite different functions but if they support each other effectively they create a most formidable defensive and offensive force for a battlestar. My pilots and countermeasures officers perform several functions but our primary and overarching mission is the defense of this ship. That is why we exist. That is what we remain to be, even after everything. That is our duty, Kostasia." Head tilts at Devlin. Curious. "Did you now, Mister Devlin? Enlist, that is." Brows are arched at him. Like she's awaiting whatever question he's not asking, as well as an answer to her own.

Ania nods, listening to Cidra. She keeps her eyes on the Viper, though, as if she's trying to memorize each line of it. "I see. I just never saw one of these up so close before," she admits before turning back to look at Cidra. "And of course. I mean, we /have/ to defend the ship. Even the civilians have a responsibility, though it's not the same of course." Her eyes narrow a bit as she glances between the two, as if she realizes there's something there that she isn't picking up on, but she isn't going to press. At least, not in Cidra's presence. "I hope you're alright," she says before adding: "And I never thought about enlisting. I don't think I'm exactly the prime candidate for military service, but I'll do my best. I mostly wanted to be a politician."

"No, sir," Devlin replies to Cidra, head turning slowly to look at her, and shaking very gingerly. "I thought about the navy, being a deckhand or something… but I didn't think I could stand being stuck on a ship for months at a time. Not being able to get outside or anything." The corner of his lips tilt in a wry little curve, but he goes on, "And the marines… Seemed like a good chance I'd get sent to Sagittaron or somewhere like that…." He lifts a hand to scratch the side of his head and shrugs, shaking his head a little more, which makes him wince faintly. "It just didn't seem like a good fit," he concludes finally.

"It is not quite the same, no," Cidra says, her own eyes resting on the Viper now rather than Ania. "We are protectors, Midshipman Kostasia. Of this ship and all the people aboard it. This means our lives shall be spent before any and all of theirs. We are their spear and shield. This is our duty." She's quiet for a beat after that. Downing more of her coffee. She finally does turn to Devlin. Rueful. "You seem to have lost out on both counts, Mister Devlin. Well. You are not doing so poorly for yourself thus far. We shall see what is made of you in the end."

Ania offers up a hesitant smile, one that wavers a little and doesn't seem overly optimistic. "I'm sure I speak for both of us when I say we'll do our best, sir," she offers to Cidra before looking at Devlin as well. "They do say things happen for a reason, Alex. I'm sure that's one thing that has reason for happening as it did. Eventually the choice got made for you."

Devlin smiles, crookedly and as ruefully as Cidra as he nods, "So I have, sir. And thank you. I'm doing my best, we'll just…see where that gets me. Hopefully I'll make something useful of myself sooner rather than later." He takes another long sip of coffee and then blinks at Ania, uncomprehending. His brow furrows: "I think I'm misunderstanding, because it sounded like you said the cylons nuked the colonies so that I'd eventually end up in the military, or something."

Cidra's brows arch at Ania. "At times the path of life limits the choices we have. And we must simply make the best of the pieces we have left." As if there was something in the younger woman's phrasing she did not particularly care for. "Well. We shall see what you both make of it. I have matters to be about." Those matters *might* involve collapsing in her rack for a couple more hours now that she's presumably done here. Just maybe. She doesn't specify.

"No," Ania says to Alex, brow furrowed. "I just meant that you're here now doing what you sort of wanted to do when we need you to do it the most," she offers, though by the end, her words are halting and trailing off. Probably because a glance between Devlin and Cidra has shown that her true meaning was way vague and not gotten at all. "Uh, yes sir. I just— nevermind. I don't mean to keep you from your duties. Sir."

"I didn't want to do it before," Devlin corrects Ania, "But now it's the right thing to do. Or to try to do, at least," he hedges and shrugs a little in deference to his still-uncertain status before looking back at Cidra. "Have a good day, sir," he offers, "Feel better. Oh, actually," he blinks, "I'm sorry, this is random, but I'd been meaning to ask. Do you know anybody on board who can do tattooing? I know yours aren't new, but I thought you might. Nobody else has that I've asked."

"Clear eyes and steady hands, Nuggets," Cidra says. It seems to be some sort of parting. Though she does reply to Devlin before she goes. "There is a civilian who assists on this Deck, actually, who mentioned she had some skill in the Art of tattooing." Her tone capitalizes the word 'art' to imbue it with more meaning. "Miss Santiago Blue, I do believe her name is. Is there any particular sort of work you are looking to have done, Devlin?"

Ania chimes in, "The woman with the shoes!" Then she goes a bit quiet, as if perhaps she shouldn't just be blurting things out now. "I mean, I know who she is, but I don't know her."

Ania also adds, mostly for her own benefit, "She was part of the delegation…"

"I'll have to ask around for her," Devlin nods, "Thank you, sir. Oh, I'm designing an addition to my tatau," he says, "It… it seems like time. I've got my own equipment, but tattooing yourself is really never a good idea, I've found."

"No. It is not," Cidra agrees firmly, as to the fallacies of tattooing oneself. She eyes Devlin. As if imparting that, *really*, he should not attempt this. A nod to Ania. "The shoes. Yes. She is the woman with the shoes." Cidra does *not* approve of the shoes. But, beyond just that deadpan recognition of them, she says nothing about them. And off she goes.

Ania hasn't even thought about inking herself. But she manages to do another awkward attempt at a salute for Cidra, just in case she's supposed to. The way she's firing off the 'Sirs' and salutes, she's probably still very much unsure of herself and the protocol. Plus she's edgy and nervous and awkward. This is not Typical Ania. "Sir," she calls after Cidra in farewell before giving Devlin a bit of a smile with an 'I am glad that's over' expression.

Devlin doesn't salute as Cidra leaves, just rubs at his eyes and then glances at Ania. "Yeah, she's tough to read," he sympathizes, scrubbing his hand over his face and taking another swig of coffee. "But good at her job, I think. Pilots seem to like her and trust her. Anyways."

"She hates me," Ania says flatly as she turns, watching up until Cidra fully disappears. Then she looks back to Devlin. "I don't think there's a person who doesn't. What made me think this was at all a good idea? I don't belong here, Alex. /Look/ at me. I don't even know how to salute. I even do /that/ wrong." Her books are still held against her chest as she starts slowly strolling back toward the exit across the hangar. "I'm sure she's great at what she does. The problem is, I'm /not/. You saw how she looked at me. Oh I've flown /toys/. I never said I had any sort of real experience!"

"No, that's just… how she looks at people," Devlin shrugs. "I mean, you saw the look she gave me just for saying good morning. And that bit about not doing so poorly is the nicest thing she's ever said to me. When she had me fly a viper sim to decide whether to let me become a nugget, she seemed surprised to discover I hadn't lied about having flown any sort of craft before. That's just… the CAG. You need to calm down," he adds dryly, "This is so not the hard part. Also if you could talk a little quieter that'd be awesome. My head is killing me."

Ania stares at him for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought. "Alex Devlin, are you /hungover/?" she asks. Her mouth gapes open a little and then she laughs quietly. "Sorry. I— it's not funny," she says, spluttering into slight laughter that she tries very hard to not let slip out. But she's not all that successful at it. "Uhm, maybe you might need these more than me," she offers, tugging out two aspirin-type pills from her pocket. "I got them because I could hardly move when I woke up today but the ones I took aren't really helping much, so they're all yours if you want."

"Yup," Devlin replies, "And so is Major Hahn, so cut her a break this morning. But don't tell anybody else that," he adds, sticking out a warning finger, "Especially not that you heard it from me." He takes another sip of coffee, and eyes the pills, admitting, "I already took four, that's the only reason I'm standing. But…" he reaches out and snags the ones she offers, tucking them in a pocket, "Those'll be good later. Thanks."

Ania oooohs softly, as if she's just getting why Cidra looked hungover. She /was/. "Well, just be careful. I'm taking it that has something to do with you falling off a table."

"Yeah, we were doing, umm… carrier landings?" Devlin tries to explain, gesturing a little with his non-coffee hand, "You, like… run and slide on an icy table and try to catch a cord with your feet, which isn't that hard, really, but then not falling off the table after is a bitch. So everybody's kind of banged up. Oh and they made me do shots everytime someone tried it. So, yeah." He grins, "It was really fun, actually."

Ania asks, "What?" Apparently she hasn't heard of this game, or whatever it is. "I— didn't know people did such a thing. It sounds dangerous." Apparently it /is/! They're all bruised up. "Why would you want to hurt yourself like that?"

"It's a pilot thing," Devlin explains blithely before shrugging, apparently having injested enough aspirin that the movement doesn't hurt that giant bruise on the side of one shoulder, "Because it's fun! You go real fast, and then you -can- manage to get off without hurting yourself, a couple people did it. Or without hurting yourself as much, I guess. Also you drink a lot, so you don't feel it as much at the time."

Ania hmmms quietly. "Pilot thing. Guess I have a lot to learn about pilot things," she says in a bit of a joking tone. "I don't see why drinking would make it any easier. It seems like you'd want to be sober to try and do that. Then again, the times I've drank much, I've ended up puking, so maybe I just don't drink /enough/."

"Yeah, this was a good one," Devlin insists, "And Tis and I almost had it at the end, but we botched the dismounts again. Stupid marines." This seems to make sense to him, and he goes on, "Nah, the drinking makes it more fun. Plus everybody was drunk, so… anyways, it was a really good time. We'll have to do it again and you can try."

Ania doesn't look convinced. "I dunno. I— I don't think I'm gonna be invited to many of the pilot get-togethers. I haven't really made many friends in the ranks. Okay, aside from you and Evan and Psyche, I'd say I haven't made /any/ friends. I don't know why. I heard that that Boots guy was … well how he is, so I thought I'd just show him that I'm not afraid of him, that I'm capable of holding my own. And he ends up reaming me out. Then I try /really really/ hard to do everything right with the CAG and— well, you saw how it went. She didn't even like my salute. Said it was sloppy."

"I mean…make more friends, then," Devlin suggests with a shrug, "That's what I did. Evan and Psyche are good people to start with because they're so friendly, and then you can get to know more people through them. Tisiphone snapped and glared at me for being in the pilots' berths at first, but now we're friends. You just have to, like… I'm trying to remember what Bunny said to me. Just, like… take one person at a time, and find out about them, and get to know them. And don't expect them to accept you overnight. These guys have been through a frakton of shit together and they're really close and it takes a bit to work your way in, but it can be done, little by little. Just don't expect them to treat you like a real pilot or an equal or anything. And stop caring about Trask. And don't expect anything more from the CAG than what you just got. I carried her home last night, and you just saw the thanks I got, so. You know. Just…lower your expectations and go with the flow."

"I never said—!" Ania pauses and lowers her voice and tilts her chin up a bit. This is more the usual Ania. The self-important rich girl trying to make the best of things. "I don't mean I want them to think of me as one of them. But it'd be nice if they didn't just /ignore/ me. And I don't care about Trask, but I /do/ care what people are led to think about me. It's obvious he hates me and doesn't want me to succeed. He could have said something to her. They're friends, right? They must talk. Probably laughing at me."

"So?" Devlin scrubs at his face again with his hand, "So what, Ania? I mean, first of all, I can't picture the major and Trask laughing together about anything, ever. Second of all… what's it matter? You're not here to make people like you. And it doesn't really matter at all what they think of you right now. What matters is what they think of you after you've gone through training and worked hard and done your best to succeed at becoming a pilot and I guarantee you the CAG is not going to wash you out just because Trask doesn't like you. They are desperate for pilots, and if you can prove you deserve to be one, that's all that matters. So just… get over it, all right? You're being paranoid."

Ania mumbles, "Not being paranoid." Awww. She's got the pouty thing going for a moment. But she shrugs it off. "I just know that look. It's the same one I got in school. That I'm just /there/, that I like pulled strings or something and have no business being there, no matter how hard I try and how much I work. That I don't really belong. It's just hard."

"It's been, like, three days," Devlin sighs, "What were you expecting? Seriously, Ania. Get over it. Focus on studying, focus on basic, and focus on making friends among the people not totally covered in shiny pins and epic responsibilities. Or Trask. Seriously, you're worrying about the wrong stuff. Just work hard and don't whine, and stuff'll come together gradually, alright?"

Ania just stands there, looking down for a moment, keeping her books against her chest. "You're right. I'm just— I'm just being a big baby. Besides, I /do/ worry about other things. Like how I'm going to be able to move if I have to do these calisthenics every day. Plus I have tons of stuff to memorize so I can start sims."

"Yeah," Devlin says simply, not quite adding 'you are' but. Yeah. "Sims aren't for a couple weeks," he tells her, "You've got to get through firearms and basic self-defense and rules and regulations and everything first, which is hard enough on its own. Focus on that stuff first and don't start trying to absorb the flight stuff til you start there with Shiv. Or whoever will be training you. And the work-outs will get easier when your muscles get used to doing stuff. Look, I've gotta go," he says, "I have stuff to finish here before my sim time later. But you're gonna be fine, Ania, alright? Just… you know. Let the little stuff go."

Ania nods, forcing a smile. "I will. Thanks, Alex. I guess it's just a harder transition than I thought it would be. I'll see you later. And take care of yourself. Don't fall off any tables today. You're plenty bruised enough."

"Yeah, I know it's tough," Devlin says, "Just don't make it harder than it already is, you know?" He shrugs a little, and then nods. "See you around. I won't go diving off anymore tables, don't worry."

Ania nods and smiles, a nice wide smile, eyes crinkled up and all that. She unhooks one hand from around her books and waves a little. "Thanks," she says before turning and heading back toward the entrance again.

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