BCH #009: EVENT - Red v. Blue - Briefing
Red v. Blue - Briefing
Summary: The CAG creates an exercise to take the measure of Cerberus' pilots. The peanut gallery observes.
Date: 17 Feb 2041 AE
Related Logs: Red v. Blue
Sawyer Sitka Evandreus Daphne Julie Tisiphone Kefir Laskaris Wilkins 


With the hatches at the rear of the room, the walkways on both sides slope down towards the dais at the front of the room. The stadium seating forms a partial semi-circle around the speaking podium and provides enough seats for all three hundred members of the Air Wing. The walls are adorned with the patches of each squadron aboard and their mottos stenciled in white lettering above each one. Behind the podium is a set of large LCD screens that can display any matter of material from reconnaissance to maps to gun camera footage.

It's 1733 hours exactly when a frazzled-looking lieutenant traipses into the room, her mousey brown hair falling about the collar of her uniform. Unlike the pilots already inside, she's not dressed for combat; indeed, the state of her rumpled blues suggests that she's been awake for more than the length of one duty shift. "Sorry I'm late, guys," she calls, storming to the podium with small, short steps. "Got caught up with one of the evaluators, Lords of Kobol keep them, who wanted to know whether I — " The speed at which she produces those words makes her sound like a human typewriter. "Anyway. I think the CAG is giving some big boys a tour of the hangar deck, so here I am. We'll make this quick. Somebody get the lights?"

Sawyer lifts her chin a bit proudly as looks start getting tossed her way. No doubt there's an inner monolouge playing along the tunes of 'be cool. no one noticed. you can do this. don't let them sense fear.' She plasters a smile on her face like she's supposed to be here, and she even turns an attentive ear to the murmuring Evandreus. Whatever he says, she doesn't respond to, other then lifting a gloved finger and slipping it inside the hardseal ring of her flightsuit and giving a little tiny scratch.

Sitka also doesn't seem to have spotted the civvie in the flight suit doing the marshmallow man shimmy. His eyes face front as the Lieutenant strides in, pen held like the cigarette he wishes it was between two fingers of his right hand. Then again, judging by the faintly amused expression on his face, it's possible he is aware of Sawyer's predicament. At the call for lights, he hauls himself back out of his seat briefly, and slaps the nearby panel with the flat of his hand.

Evandreus grins at Sawyer in the wake of the whispering and, turning up front, chin lifted with an attention to the LT, mouth just a little open, he nods and wriggles around, getting a knee up under him and then another knee onto the armrest next to him, just about to reach the panel when Sitka comes and slaps it, instead. He grins a thanks at the guy and then turns back around to sit. Or. Tumble back into his seat. Something like that.

Daphne sits ramrod straight once the Lieutenant walks through the door, and then she mutters something to herself, silently counts to five, and leans against the chair. Not like she owns the place, but like she's not supposed to be 'sitting at attention'. A glance is cast towards Sawyer. Even the ensign can clearly see something's amiss.

Show's over, it seems. Laskaris looks away from Sawyer as the frazzled blues-clad lieutenant enters the ready room. Slate-colored eyes flash briefly to Sitka as the older man gets up to flick the lights, and then back to the front. His angular features smooth into a nonexpressive mask as the briefing gets underway.

Julie continues to sit comfortably in the front of the room with a perky smile at the ready, her attention focussed on the front of the room and the lieutenant about to tell them what's going on. Resting her hands on her helmet, she listens eagerly for her first assignment of sorts on the Cerberus.

"Thanks, whoever that was!" The diminutive lieutenant has to stand on her tiptoes to make herself seen above the podium. This problem is remedied when she drops her stack of reports to the ground to give her the few extra centimeters she needs for her lips to reach the mike. A tap of her finger and an image appears on the screen behind her: a stylized representation of four Mark IIs colored a peaceful green.

"Anyway. Right! Fresh from CAG country is Exercise One. Just a standard OPFOR, Red versus Blue. The objective is simple: team blue guards this quartet of old training Vipers kindly donated by our very own Hyperlights; team red tries to send them to a place where the sun don't shine. You'll be out in deep space, so apart from a few DRADIS blips from flares coming up from the blue supergiant back there somewhere — " Small hands flap somewhere to aft. "Should be smooth flying."

Tisiphone suddenly leans over, bumping shoulder to shoulder with Daphne, and mutters something short and uncheerful to her fellow Ensign before straightening again.

Julie taps her fingers on her helmet a few times before turning to the pilot nearest to her and says softly, "Ooo sounds like fun.." There's a moments pause before she sighs, "Except the smooth flying part, that biiites."

Daphne casually bites her lip, silently counts to five once more, and then leans over to whisper something back to Tisiphone, then turns back towards the front of the room.

Hey 'smooth flying' is music to Sawyer's ears. She struggles but manages to take little notes on her notepad, some strange short hand she'll suss out later. Just an observer here, the reporter seems more interested in the pilots then the objective of the training op.

"Toast knows all of you can do this in your sleep, so she's added a few fun tweaks." The lieutenant gets a mad little smile. "First, all you Harriers: you're getting what we in Ops like to call the Jumbo Load. No more weak-ass chaff drones: instead, we've kitted you with a full load of armor-piercing missiles. Here's the kicker: your bears are the only ones with fire control. You want them to jam, your plane's not shooting. You want them to shoot, your plane's not jamming." She tilts her head to port, grinning cutely. "Dilemma!"

Evandreus leans an elbow on the armrest he'd just been kneeing moments before, and he listens to the beginning of the briefing with an easy but apt attentiveness. Both of his brows rise in something like alarm at the news that his boat is going to have missiles fitted to it, but he relaxes again when he finds himself to be releived of the responsibility of actually dealing with them. The dilemma itself seems intriguing enough to keep his mind from wandering too far. Puzzles. Sweet.

Laskaris looks vaguely bored — that is, until Lieutenant Sunshine down there gets into the details. The bit about the supergiant is met with a look of interest; the Viper pilot straightens in his seat. The Raptor pilot bemoaning the smooth flying part gets an odd look. Then, the briefer continues. Lasher's attention again goes to the podium, even if she's just mentioning Raptor stuffs for the moment.

Sitka's pen scratches away while the Lieutenant speaks, his face a mask of silent attentiveness. Blue eyes come up for a second at something said, then drop again as he makes a note in the margin. No questions yet, though a couple may be forthcoming soon from the Captain.

Julie shrugs her shoulders about only being to fire or have ecm active and begins to fidget around in her seat, just wanting to get out of this podium and up into a bird. Stretching her hands in front of her, she awaits the rest of the mission briefing in silence for now, no sarcasm just yet.

Daphne starts on to the busy task of writing every damned thing down that happens, and then stops, considering things for just a moment. And then she starts drawing a cartoon cat on her clipboard, instead. Just a little one.

Tisiphone snorts once at Daphne. She may not say 'WhatEVER' aloud, but it's clear in her expression. She breathes out a slow sigh and tries to slouch against her unforgiving chair, folding arms across chest as attention returns to the dais.

Kefir was mostly just watching and listening. The watching is directed as much at his squad as ahead at the podium, however. After a few moments of nothing at all happening, he leans forward from his seat, half over another one, and looks over Daphne's shoulder. Then he pokes her.

"Two! Teams. We've got a Very Special guest with us tonight. Everybody say hello to Captain Ibrahim Sitka of the Picon Space Guards, callsign Shiv. Don't ask him what he did to the guy who made him drop the soap in jail." The lieutenant grins again, digging her teeth into her lips as she talks. "He'll be flying lead for Team Red today just so the CAG can tell her boss' boss that the reservists actually did something useful. On his wing she wants Lasher. The assault section will have Easy and Bootstrap in the lead Raptor, Bunny and Gasm in the wing Raptor."

Quick fingers flip the page. "Team Blue, there'll be three of you. Captain Abbascia has lead, and on his wing will be Ensigns … Kolettis and … " Her blue eyes crinkle as she squints down at the text. "Tizzy Phone. Or whatever. Get callsigns, girls. I got mine when I showed up shitfaced to a — " The woman stops there, chuckling at the memory. "Oh, and we've got a friendly little QUODEL person with us too. She'll be watching from a Raptor, so. Don't Screw Up or we'll all be on the front page of Home and Country Weekly or whatever she writes for. Well!" Deep breath. "Questions?"

Julie raises a hand and asks cheerfuly, "Hey, can the QUODEL girl ride with me? I'll show her some 'smooth flying' and let her see some of the action." She glances back at Sawyer and offers a cute little wave, smooth flying, yeah right.

Daphne blinks, and then continues right over to writing details about the briefing, as if she never detoured for Kalliope the Tenatious Tabby. A few hairs stand up on the back of her neck, too. She just writes along until the Lieutenant talks about getting shitfaced. The effect on the rookie's face is akin to a record needle skipping off of the turntable. She drops her pen, which rolls onto the floor. She barely manages to stop it with her foot. Keeping her jaw shut isn't easy, but she (barely) manages that, too.

"Your call, Home and Country Weekly — I can't see you out there, but. Hi!" The lieutenant waves into the crowd. "Your call. Easy or Bunny, I don't care."

"Tisiphone. It's Tisiphone." It's not /shouted/, but it's pronounced Very Clearly by a Very Grumpypants Ensign. Tis-i-phon-e. Another bleak look is cast over to Daphne. "We're /so/ frakked," she mutters.

As she's introduced, Sawyer raises her pen so she can be easily identified. Not that she doesn't already have a neon sign hanging above her head with a big flashing arror that points down declaring her as the civilian in the bunch. "Acropolis Monthly. Sawyer Averies." She corrects politely. "Uh. Which one is which?"

As Lieutenant Sunshine dispenses Cidra's in absentia wing assignments, Laskaris gives Sitka another look, as if sizing the man up. He doesn't seem to have any issues with what he sees; if he does, he keeps them to himself. Then, he looks down front to where Daphne and Tisiphone are sitting, and smiles wolfishly.

Kefir quirks a brow a bit as the teams are elaborated. From where he is leaning over the intervening chair and poking Daphne, he looks over to her frequent partner in crime, smiling vaguely. "Sounds like its just us against the big guns. Should be fun."

Evandreus looks back to Civvie Itchyknickers with a look of surprise that mellows into a smile as her presence gets explained. He lifts a hand, waggling fingers in a lazy sort of wave. "Evan Doe. Bunny," he introduces himself in simple, friendly tones.

Sitka gives an incredibly halfhearted little 'salute' with his pen that barely even qualifies as such, head staying down when the Lieutenant calls him out by name. He's either suddenly and furiously interested in the notes he's been making, or just doesn't give a shit. Damned part-timers.

Julie grins a little bit as Sawyer's question and replies with a playful smile, "I'm Easy.." She laughs before remarking, "It also happens to be my callsign."

"I'll take my chances with Bunny." Sawyer quickly spits out, because something about Julie is just unsettling. Maybe because the reporter suddenly feels like a canary and Julie looks like a tom cat with its tail twitching.

"Acropolis Monthly," the lieutenant chirps. "No, I don't read that either. Anyway, if nobody's got anything else — shoo. Get out, get flying, and get some." She pumps a fist in the air before hustling out of the room, undoubtedly en route to another tour.

Daphne manages to reboot her mind. She doesn't dare pick up her pen, opting to leave it trapped between the floor and her boot. "Nothing we can't take care of, sir. A bunch of stunt doubles and Raptors won't stop us." A smirk is flashed to her superior that shows a few too many teeth to be completely relaxed. She adds, nodding to Tisiphone, "I think they've got a reporter, too. So there'll be someone to write all about their -epic- defeat."

Sitka flips his notepad closed, slides an assessing glance Laskaris' way briefly, then lifts his hand as the Lieutenant brings the meeting to a close. "Question." He continues after a pause for her to find him in the assemblage of pilots. "Vipers will be using training lasers, I'm assuming? And what's the loadout going to be for each raptor?"

Evandreus got picked! He looks a little surprised, but pleasantly so, especially after his little 'advice' stunt. "Sweet," he offers to her in a low, rumbling tone. "C'mon, let's check in with our flight lead and then make sure all the bits of your suit are fixed up tight, yah?" he suggests, voice continuing warm and easeful, with a thread of a nasally Leontinian accent tossed in for good measure. "Don't worry, though. It's just a game. Nobody's getting hurt today," he notes, standing up and offering the flightsuited civvie a hand up, as well.

"Whoa. Hey." The woman stops at the door, her head swiveling. "Shiv! Thought they told you reservists just to sit there and look pretty. Uh. Yeah. Training lasers. We don't want any holes in our planes. And Raptors get missiles, as I said. Well, more like dumb-fire rockets, but. They'll be drones too. Hyperlights would be pissed if we blew up their shit."

"Raptors full of fake explosives," Kefir points out to Daphne. "Shooting at fairly defenseless old training rigs. Lets take this seriously, and try to make it back with our vipers in one piece, regardless." Could that possibly be a little reference to their first flight out? Surely not. "Alright, come on you two. Lets get our strategy hashed out en route."

At the briefing lieutenant's 'dismissal', Laskaris rises from his seat. That predatory smirk is turned full force on Daphne, and he snorts. "Go on, rook. We'll see about that, eh?" After a moment's pause, he turns away, approaching Sitka after he's done questioning the lieutenant. A pale hand is extended. "I hear I'll be your wing, sir. Anton Laskaris. Lasher."

Ensign Orr looks to Evandreus and the reporter. He mutters something under his breath, still sppearing a bit fidgety. The freshman ECO rises from his seat and slowly makes his way over to the pilot and attractive young reporter. "Okay, sir. I think I have everything ready. Uhm, howdy, ma'am." He dips his head to her jerkily.

Julie stands up from her seat and begins to head out the door with the rest of the pilots, helmet tucked neatly under her arm. Looking around the group, she sighs and says to herself, "Frak, now who the heck is my ECO." Approaching Sitka for the time being, she grins, "So what's the game plan, Cap?"

Sitka looks like he might have more to ask, or perhaps a clarification of his question on the heels of the LT's answer. But as other hands pop up, and a glance at his watch tells him he's wasting valuable planning time, he drops his head in a brisk nod to the woman and starts climbing out of his seat. "Got it. Thanks." The notepad and pen are tucked away in his flight suit, and his helmet retrieved just as Laskaris wanders over. He offers his hand in return, gripping firmly but not shaking. "Heard a fair bit about you. Walk with me, we'll talk on the way over."

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