PHD #083: Seniority
Summary: Cidra appoints Pallas to fly lead for the Black Knights for the time being.
Date: 20 May 2041 AE
Related Logs: None
Cidra Pallas 
Naval Offices - Deck 10 - Battlestar Cerberus
Post-Holocaust Day: #83
This area is set-up much like any standard office building. Cubicles have been constructed using cheap waist-high walls, their contents left neutral for whoever needs to use them. Inside each cubicle is a desk with a laptop and chair. Simple overhead lights bring dull illumination to the room except over the back wall where each one of the colonies twelve flags hangs from its own pole. Fake, potted plants dot the room and seem to be standard issue along with the water cooler and coffee machines. Off the main room are a few private offices such as that of the JAG or CAG.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear

Cidra is engaged in some sort of duty that does not involve flying a Raptor at the moment. She's ensconced back in her little office area. Smoking. The hatch to her lair slightly ajar, as it tends to be. There's nothing of import on her desk. She smokes, and waits.

And waits and waits and waits. Pallas is slow to reply to his summon, but he does eventually show up. Other pilots might be nervous or anxious when showing up to the CAG's office, but he looks… well, pissed off, more than anything. A slight frown creasing his brow, he raps his knuckles sharply across Cidra's door before taking one step in. "As requested. Sir." He's got that pause before the 'sir' down pat now.

Cidra rises smoothly from her chair. "Lieutenant Ellinon. I hope you were not pulled from anything pressing. I was wondering what kept you." An oh-so-polite, not-quite-admonishment for his lateness. "Do come in, please."

"Only matters of gravest importance would keep me away from your office, Major Hahn," is his blithe response. Pallas steps through and stands opposite her before her desk. The frown has mostly ironed itself out of his visage, and now he just watches her to see what's coming next. No doubt that there's a laundry list of things that she could peg him for if she wished at any given time.

"Sit, please," Cidra directs him, retaking her own chair once she's seen to the opening protocols and pleasantries. A quick puff is taken on her cigarette and she eyes him a moment across the desk. There's an appraising manner about her. One of those long stretches of silence where it's unclear if she *is* going to say something commences. But, she finally does get to it. "Captain Laskaris remains down on Leonis, as do many of our senior pilots. Within the Knights especially. I am sure you are aware of this."

Pallas sits. And waits. Long stretches of silence don't seem to bother him none, and he's pretty good at keeping still and stone-faced until Cidra speaks. But when she does, his brow twitches. "You're not seriously going to say what I think you're about to say," he says flatly, trying to read the CAG's face. Which is almost always a futile task.

"I cannot read your mind, Spiral. So we shall have to see," Cidra says. Another drag is taken before she bothers to satisfy his curiosity. "Captain Valance of the Checkmates is overseeing most of the administrative affairs of the Knights and Petrels while both Lasher and Shiv are down on the planet. All gods protect them. That shall continue until there is… sign more permanent change is required. But the pilots need someone to look to. Lieutenant Bell has already stepped up as lead pilot of the Petrels. You are the most senior of the Black Knights." No kidding. He's older than she is.

A long stretch of silence is punctuated only by a heavy sigh. "Seniority only goes so far, Toast," Pallas says in a resigned voice. "It's a double-edged sword. A senior Lieutenant who's good at what he does commands respect even from his superiors. But a career Lieutenant who's got more time in the service than the CAG, well…" His lips twist into a wry smile. "Bottom line is, nobody's gonna look up to me unless I play the Seniority Card."

"Officers look up to who they are asked to look up to," Cidra says with a shrug. "I hold no illusions that all pilots in this Wing do love me. They respect my position. That is enough. I hope in time I can earn their trust as well. I wish we had all flown together longer before…everything. But. Well. If wishes were horses we would all be knee-deep in manure, I believe is the Aerilon expression. Just fly their lead and keep my apprised of any other duty matters that might need more attention. I am sure they are under much stress."

"Well, I've been wading through a lot of shit, if that speaks to your 'wishes' any," Pallas responds. Ever the poet. "I'm not saying I won't do it. I'm just saying that where you think not all the pilots in the Wing love you, I know that none of them do." But for whatever reason, that assertion brings with it a smile from the old pilot's face, as though it were a point of pride. "My wingman's down on that Gods-forsaken planet, anyway. Guess I gotta do something to pass the time." Not like the CAP rotation's been thrown out of whack by so many pilots out of the mix, y'know.

Cidra smirks, ever-so-faintly. A little nod of satisfaction, though as ever with the woman, much beyond that is hard to read. "I do hope it will be merely a brief formality. The Knights in particular have been through much upheaval. But, we shall all muddle through. A rescue plan for those on Leonis is in the brewing stages, though I have yet to hear from the XO on the final word upon it. We made brief contact with those on the surface and there was some good news. It seems there *were* a good many intact Vipers in the air base on Leonis. Near to thirty, ready for the taking if we can get to them."

"As long as it's not a trap," Pallas says when she mentions good Vipers for snatching. His eyes darken as he continues, "Not like the Cylons are hard-pressed to set traps for us on the ground. They managed to hit our birds time and time again on Cerberus just fine." He's referring, of course, to the 'virus' that hit on Warday and the explosion in the launch tube. "Well. This ought to be interesting."

"Every day is interesting," Cidra says in a fatalistic sort of way. "Just not always in the way we desire. The Vipers, I think, are not a lure. At least, in our brief contact with Lieutenant Kulko, that did not seem to be the issue with them. The only trouble is how to get them off the surface. With the Eidolon gone, we do not have a craft capable of landing there to load them without attracting more Cylon attention than we can handle."

"Give 'em something they want more than they hate to lose the Vipers," Pallas says offhandedly. "Distract them elsewhere, get pilots down on the ground, and fly the damn birds out if we need to." Almost childishly simplified, but then again, he isn't a tactical officer. Nor does he have any kind of idea about the situation down on the planet's surface. "So do I get my sitrep on the current status of the Squadron from you or from Blowback?"

"That does seem to be the only option. Fly the birds back to the ship," Cidra concurs. "As for the distraction, I agree. Our Raptors have swallows that could make a great deal of noise elsewhere while our Viper pilots get the planes off the ground. Part of the problem is getting the pilots themselves down. Though the XO had an idea on that score." Smirk. "He did suggest our pilots parachute in. Dropped from Raptors after we jump in near-atmo. Once they are down, Raptors break off. Perhaps one to distract, while the others evacuate our people stranded down there."

Pallas looks extremely skeptical at that plan. "Sounds like a damned suicide mission to me," he says flatly. "Then again, the eighteen-year-Lieutenant is probably not the best tactical mind aboard." Self-deprecation finished for the time being, he goes quiet again and watches Cidra. Trying to read her again, or awaiting dismissal? After a minute, he lights up a cigarette of his own. "Frak the Vipers," he says suddenly - and emphatically. "Frak 'em. It's not worth losing one pilot to gain five Vipers. Give the ground party a weapons drop, let 'em establish a secure firebase, then land and extract. Worry about the birds another day."

"The birds are most certainly the secondary objective," Cidra says firmly. "We get our people off the ground. That must happen. But we get the Vipers if we can. Anyhow, Spiral, I shall send word down when I know more of the timeline for all of this. In the meantime, I thank you for your service."

Pallas rises from his seat and gives Cidra an informal type of salute with his cigarette. "Don't be thankin' me - you'll be cursing my name again soon," he says with a twisted grin. Always good to have high aspirations when being put somewhat-in-charge. "Always a pleasure. Sir." Again with that perfectly timed pause. The proper respects (technically) being given, he turns and leaves her office, leaving a trail of smoke in his wake.

Mannered as the CAG is, she is perhaps surprisingly not overly exacting in matters of protocol. Her reaction for his skirting respect is…hard to decipher. Par for her. Cidra watches him go with the barest hint of a smile on her lips, cloudy blue eyes inscrutable. "Clear eyes and steady hands, Spiral."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License