| Restless Hours |
| Summary: | Ships passing in various forms on the Obs Deck. |
| Date: | 13 Jun 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | None in particular |
| Players: |
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| Observation Deck - Deck Three - Battlestar Cerberus |
| 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. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #472 |
It's quiet on the observation deck at this hour. Though 'restless' might be a better way to describe the mood than simply quiet. Crewmembes mill about, either sitting with paperwork or books - or just their own thoughts - or talk quietly or sprawl together on the sofas. Most of the conversation is hushed, however, and some eyes are heavy with thought as they peer out at the space beyond them. Cidra Hahn is one such who's peering at the moment. She's dressed down in her off-duties, tattoos on display on her bare arms as she smokes on a cigarette and ponders the stars. She's sitting alone at present.
Stepping in from the outside while singing a bit softly to himself, Malone shakes his head at a notebook in his hand. The others in the room is thankfully glad for the singing being done softly, from what they might hear of it. He's far from a good singer, that's for sure. Pausing near the door for a few moments after entering.
The singing, faint though it is, makes Cidra's head tick up. She half-turns toward it. Noting Malone as the singer, though she does not immediately greet him. Rather she watches him. And listens, cloudy blue eyes narrowed. Perhaps she's trying to place the tune.
The tune seems to be a bit of a sad, slow one as Malone looks around the room for a few moments. Noticing Cidra, he offers her a bit of a nod, as he continues singing, thankfully still rather softly.
It's quiet on the observation deck at this hour. Though 'restless' might be a better way to describe the mood than simply quiet. Crewmembes mill about, either sitting with paperwork or books - or just their own thoughts - or talk quietly or sprawl together on the sofas. Most of the conversation is hushed, however, and some eyes are heavy with thought as they peer out at the space beyond them. Cidra Hahn is one such who's peering at the moment. She's dressed down in her off-duties, tattoos on display on her bare arms as she smokes on a cigarette and ponders the stars. She's sitting alone at present.
Though she's turned her attention away from the stars, to the sound of Malone's faint singing, as the pilot enters. His nod is returned. "A sad little tune," she notes, not exactly disapprovingly.
Malone finishes the tune, and shrugs a little bit, "The first one that slipped into my mind, I guess," he replies, moving a bit further into the room now.
Holy crap, it's Evan. The Bunny has hidden himself away in his hidey hole for over a month now, only coming out when he's got duty or other things that people will yell at him if he doesn't do. But here he is, out, looking pretty much like he just woke up, pillow lines across his face and afflicted with a mad case of bedhead, eyes still half-pasted shut with gookies. He scratches up over an ear with a pinky finger, loitering on the limen and then shuffling on in to a plugged-in water heater to pour himself some hot water for tea.
"What is it called?" Cidra asks Malone, turning a little in her seat so she's more properly facing him. She's in her stocking feet, he might note. Long legs folded under her on the chair she's chosen, boots tucked under it. "The song, I do mean? I had never taken you for a musical man, Splash, though I cannot say quite why."
"Actually, I'm far from a musical man," Malone replies, with a bit of a shrug. "I enjoy singing, though. It's like a few sports, something that's fun to do even though one isn't good at it. And I think the song's called 'The Return Home' or something like that. It's just something I heard someone sing back home at some point." He looks around, noticing the Bunnyman being present, and offers a nod in his direction.
There's a ripping of wrapper and a gurgle of hot water on styrofoam and then Evan's bobbling the teabag in the water with one hand while he carries the cup carefully in the other. Malone gets a bleary nod on his way downstairs.
"'The Return Home.' Ah." Cidra nods some as she takes in that particular title. "That is a sad song in these times. Yet one I do think many of us would like to sing, were it to will it true. What put you in mind of it just now?" Though as she waits for an answer, she follows Malone's gaze in Evandreus' direction. Idly she ashes her cigarette in a convenient ashtray, finally putting it out altogether. Carefully. She can still smoke on that one later. "Doe. How goes the day?" The question is asked in a casual enough tone, though she eyes Evandreus up and down thoughtfully as she asks it.
Malone shrugs a little bit, "Not really sure what did it. Probably the fact that home seems to be so many lifetimes away now." Going quiet again, as his gaze moves on to the planets outside.
"Cid," Evan answers back, voice gravelly over the rough syllable before he registers a wince at the corners of his eyes and takes a careful first sip of tea. "About the same as yesterday. And probably the same as tomorrow," he answers dully, but with a less sleep-addled voice, settling on the arm of a sofa across from Cid, shoulders slouching as he huddles over the tea.
"Many lifetimes gone, aye," Cidra agrees with Malone, her own gaze going back out to space. "You are Libran-born, are you not, Splash? That is a place I saw little of when the worlds were whole. A few lay-overs when I was passing between assignments, but I cannot say I knew it much." Evandreus' words earn a slow nod. "Same as yesterday is a victory in and of itself. If one does not grow better, at least one does not grow worse. And such is the way we remain."
"I am," Malone replies, nodding a little bit. "Born there, grew up there, educated there…" Looking over at Evan again, he offers a grin, "As long as that 'same as yesterday' includes the 'being alive' part, that's a good start, right?"
Evandreus looks to Cid, attaining and maintaining eye contact as long as she'll allow it, head tipped a degree or two to the side, eyes dim and unenthusiastic. "Hm," is his judgement on her philosophy on the human condition, neither agreeing nor disagreeing but making enough noise that she can tell he heard her. "Guess so," an equally non-committal answer comes for Malone. "Though, what did the one guy say? Now we go our separate ways; I to die and you to live. Which of us is the happier only the Gods know."
"So say we all," Cidra intones at Malone's words. The 'being alive' bit. "From there at least, is a beginning. I shall meet the gods one day, but not just yet." The former seems to answer to Evan, though her focus is still on the Viper pilot. Another soft "Ah" to Malone. "Educated, yes. I do vaguely recall from your personnel file you studied to be a…lawyer?" A hint of curiosity there. He's plainly not one at the moment.
Malonenods a bit at the part about him studying to be a lawyer. "That's true. Had a bit of a… change of heart when I finished my studies though." Looking back to Evan, he nods a little bit, "Unfortunately, those that go to the afterlife can't really tell us if they were the lucky ones, or we, I guess."
Evandreus withdraws, emotionally if not physically, breaking eye contact with Cid and looking over the white curve of styrofoam to the lounge carpet with a tired stare. As for the drink, he continues to sip at it, ostensibly listening to the exchange on Malone's lawyerdom, but refraining from comment.
Cidra smiles very slight at Malone. "Back at the Colleges I did study Theology. But this seemed a better calling." She's seated in one of the chairs with a good view of the stars out the viewport, talking quietly with Malone. And Evandreus, even if he's not participating overmuch in the conversation at present. The observation deck is moderately populated at this hour, several members of the crew spending a quiet moment there in between shifts.
Longinus is one of those crew members spending a quiet moment in the lounge in between shifts. He's gotten himself a drink and is looking for a seat. "Good evening, Lt. Colonel," he says, greeting Cidra as he happens to approach the group of chairs where the off duty pilots are chatting. Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, he finds a quiet spot to stand and enjoy the view of the stars.
Malone nods a little bit as he hears that, "It did," he agrees, before he adds, "Was planning to go for the law career again at a later point, when I'd gotten more experience with people. Guess I made the right call by not going for it straight away, all things considered."
Evandreus shifts, looking uncomfortable on the chair arm, or as though he hadn't quite slept straight. He draws a leg up onto the arm with him, straightening his back and cracking a vertebra or two as he does so, still being conversationally about as interesting as a hill of beans, greeting Longinus with a yawn half-obscured behind a wrist brought to his face for the purpose.
"I am very glad to have all hands in the air who can handle a cockpit right now," Cidra says with a small nod to Malone and Evandreus both, at Malone's words. Though the approach of Longinus turns her attention in that direction. Cloudy blue eyes go to the deckhand, recognition in them. She offers him an ever-polite inclination of her head in greeting. "Ah. Petty Officer Corsel. Your labors at the planes treat you well, I trust? For the sake of me and mine I do hope so."
Evandreus returns his sights to the carpet, "'Scuse me a sec," he murmurs, getting his feet on the ground and finally standing, headin up to the hatch as if to go hit the head, diminishing the necessity for farewells of any sort. But he does not, as his words might have indicated, return. Maybe he got distracted. Maybe he fell in. Either way, Evan's not back tonight.
Dana enters the observation deck, looking as upbeat as a wet washcloth. No one ever said being a nugget or a pilot for that matter didn't come with its perks like stress, sleep deprivation and cramming tons of technical information into your head each and every day. There's open seats here and there, but seems like the place where she might stretch out the most without sticking her foot in someone's face is near the others quietly chatting. As Dana nears, Cidra gets a blink of recognition. "Lt Colonel," she murmurs an echo to Longinus' words moments eariler.
Longinus walks over to talk to Cidra when she asks how he is doing. "I just came up from the deck and everything's running smoothly, m'am. Thank you for asking." When it looks like Evandreus isn't coming back, Longinus takes his seat. "Evening, officers," he says in greeting to the two he doesn't know, Malone and Dana.
Malone nods a little bit, "Evening," he offers to Longinus, before he nods a bit to the others, "I should get going as well. Need to speak to someone about something… If you will excuse me…"
Cidra watches Evandreus go, a slim frown on her face. "Bunny." She bids him farewell whether he hears it or not. "Splash." A parting inclination of her head to the Viper pilot as well. "Clear eyes and steady hands, in all matters." It seems to be a sort of send-off from her. To Longinus, a nod. "That is good. I am reminded I do need to speak to your Chief Damon about a matter. But. It shall keep another day, I do suppose. It has already kept long enough. So long as the Vipers and Raptors are in good repair, I shall thank you for it." At the use of her rank, that cloudy blue gaze swivels to Dana. The younger woman is eyed. In a mild sort of way, though there's a measuring quality to it. "Midshipman Castell." She knows the Nugget's name, at least. "How does the eve find you?"
"Evening," Dana replies to Longinus as she weaves between some chairs. She's found a seat but hovers before it for a moment, too tired to squirm under Cidra's gaze, but hesitant to just conk out in front of a superior. "Uh… well, tired, sir." She's honest at least, fumbling with the zipper of her flight suit. "Just stopped in here for a moment to recharge."
Longinus introduces himself with a smile to Dana. "I'm Longinus Corsel. So you're one of the new trainees. Castell, was it?"
"Lieutenant Duncan is keeping you hard at your work, I see." Cidra sounds pleased with this, and looks generally so with Dana's tired appearance. "Such is good. When the worlds were whole it took two years to make a combat pilot, you know. We have months aboard this ship, weeks ideally. It must be hardly done." A small nod at Longinus' guess, though she's quiet apart from that so Dana can properly answer the question.
"Yep." Dana slides into a chair, returning Longinus' smile, albeit wearily. "That's me." Noting his uniform she adds, "We'll probably run into each other in the hangar… at some point." A little emphasis on the last phrase, a raise of the eyebrows. That point, from here, is a ways off. She pauses, her tired brain trying to process Cidra's way of speaking. "And he is, sir. But I guess I asked for it."
"I'm sure we will run into each other soon," says Longinus. "I haven't seen you before. I take it you're still in the simulators? Lieutenant Duncan's training you…that means you're a Viper pilot. Is it exciting?"
"Petty Officer Corsel works upon the Deck," Cidra says to Dana. "Gain his friendship now, Midshipman, and take care not to lose it. The deckhands guard our lives with their good works on our planes." That said, she still adds little to the conversation. Gaze shifting between the pair of them in that watching sort of way. She's still mostly watching Dana, of course.
Dana nods to Longinus. "The sims mostly, but some pencil pushing too. It's not easy, but I like it… the feeling of being molded into something. You know?" she says with a flicker of a smile. "Vipers, yes. Well… it's far different than what I was used to." She looks at Cidra, still with the smile. "No kidding. Where'd we be without guys like you?" she tilts her head towards Longinus.
Longinus gives them an embarrassed smile, responds modestly. "Thank you. You pilots are out there every day, risking your lives to protect ours. Hearing you tell us from time to time that you appreciate what we do, that means a lot. This feeling you're talking about, of being molded into something, what do you mean, exactly?"
"We are all pieces in the greater work, Petty Officer. We serve in our own ways, and by such the work is strong." Cidra philosophizes in an idle sort of way, picking up a cigarette she'd half-smoked earlier. She removes a lighter from her pocket and fire it up again. Might as well finish it. Head tilts at Dana. Cocking in a rather birdlike way. "What are you used to, Midshipman? In flight, I do mean. You were plucked from the civilian stock, if I do recall correctly."
Dana brings her knees up and swings around so she can sit sideways in her seat. "Just learning and then putting into practice things I'd never thought I could do. Of course, those moments are pretty rare at this point…" Her eyes sprint to the CAG for a second. "But, uh, each day it comes just a bit easier. What about you? Have you always worked on the deck?" she asks Longinus, then addresses Cidra's question. "That's right, sir. Mostly freighter work for my family's company, running stuff here and there."
"Oh no kidding," says Longinus. "I was just talking to one of the new deckhands, last night, who used to do the same thing, freighter work for his family's business. That actually sounds like an interesting life, and liberating, to be able to travel between worlds on your own ship. As for me, you guessed it. I have more or less always worked on the deck. I was an A-school instructor for a few years, too."
"There is a freedom to such a life, though it is not one I have ever known," Cidra says. "I was born and raised upon the planet Gemenon. I had never left it before I joined the Navy. In part, at least, that is why I did so. I did want to see what there was of the worlds beyond my home stars, and the Navy gives one at the least opportunity for travel. I have been flying with the military for some fifteen years now. It was longer than I thought I would serve, I shall admit."
"Really?" Dana smiles over her knees at Longinus. "That's funny. It wasn't exactly liberating, but was more or less a release for my travel itch, you could say. Not much sightseeing though, I'm afraid." While listening to Cidra, her mouth tilts in a half smile. "I would have given my eyeteeth to do that, sir. Join the Navy, go to college, something to get away from Aerilon." She glances down and scratches her arm for a second, before returning her gaze to Longinus. "So we've got Gemenon, Aerilon… where are you from?"
Longinus looks to Cidra as she talks about her past, a moment of discomfort showing in his expression when she mentions Gemenon. He seems a little startled when Dana asks where he's from, and tries a little too hard to sound casual as he answers, "Oh…Gemenon. I'm from Gemenon, too."
"The Petty Officer and I do share a colony of origin, indeed," Cidra says, with a little nod to Longinus. "It is not a usual thing. Few from Gemenon leave the homeworld, fewer still join the Colonial service." Though she shows no outward discomfort when she speaks of her homeworld, it is not a subject she lingers on. "I saw little of Aerilon before the worlds fell. There was still beauty there when we undertook our rescue missions upon that colony. I can only imagine how lovely it was before the Cylons came."
"Gemenon too?" Dana doesn't pick up on any discomfort, her question is more or less a remark of surprise, especially when Cidra explains that few join the service. And here are two Gemenese right in front of her. There's a little flicker and Dana straightens when Cidra mentions a rescue operation. "Oh, it wasn't bad." she says with a dismissive note. Then, after a moment, "It /was/ lovely." Lifting her arm to brush some hair from her face, she catches the time on her watch and pulls a face. "Um. I better get back. It was good to meet you - both." With a smile no less weary than when she entered, she gets up and heads back to the grindstone.