PHD #271: Shine On, Shine On
Shine On, Shine On
Summary: Shiner proves he is not a gimp and calls the CAG 'dude.' This is a unique route to career advancement.
Date: 24 Nov 2041 AE
Related Logs: Older Chicks; Special Projects Part 2; To Become a Pilot
Shiner Cidra 
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: #271

It's the deck. It's… decky. And this is the worst set ever. Ahem. No, more accurately, there's the usual banging and clattering going on over at the downed aircraft, the sparks and acrid smell of welding going on somewhere else, and the raised voices of an argument between two deckies over in another area as they fail to agree on the best way to complete some task or other. All in all, a fairly normal day on the deck. Shiner, for his part, is in a forklift, shifting a rack of long pipes slowly across the deck, currently backing it up into the space between two downed birds with a loud BEEP BEEP BEEP just to add to the general din.

Cidra is prowling the Deck as well. Not an unusual sight, though she's in her duty greens today rather than her more standard flight gear. So she's devoting her time to something other than driving a Raptor. She's presently having a conversation with one of the avionics techs working on a Viper Mark Seven. "No, that is fine, keep it off the rotation until you have double-checked its systems. I would not have it go out again until you are convinced it has not been mussed with."

The forklift stopping, and Shiner spying the old woman on the deck, he swings down from the cab with all the grace you'd expect, in that he looks about as agile as an asthmatic hippo with some heavy shopping. Nonetheless, once on the deck, he deliberately sets his cane against the vehicle, sets his jaw and, concentrating hard on the ground in front of him, begins the slow and careful journey to pace over to Cidra and her AE(A) accomplice.

"See it done, PO, clear eyes and steady hands," is Cidra's parting to the tech. She turns to head off in another direction as he goes back to work on the Viper. And spies Shiner. Strolling toward her. She watches him, in that inscrutable, vaguely weighing way she has of watching things. "Apprentice Wright. A good day upon you."

Shiner inflicts his best, brightest smile on her, coming to a very slightly wobbly halt a few paces from her, whereupon he throws up a crisp, precise salute, worthy of the parade square for sure. "Major Hahn, sir. Frakking good day, yeah?" He gestures to himself, waggling his eyebrows. "Take a look, sir. This is me, walking on my own, right up to you. As promised." And once again that hopeful smile comes out. "You remember what you said, right, sir?"

Cidra does not smile back. Her expression remains inscrutable. She continues to eye Shiner. The salute is returned fluidly and he is given a quick "As you were." A pause. "I say a good many things, Mister Wright. To which one are you making reference to?" She is not going to make this easy.

Shiner deflates. Not literally, although that would no doubt be amusing, watching him rocket through the air like a punctured balloon, but his shoulders slump and the smile flickers a little. "About flying, sir! You said when I could walk you'd consider putting me forward for nugget training! Remember?"

"You are still interested in pilot training?" Cidra cannot conceal her surprise. A soft "Ah" escapes her. She looks him up and down again. Continuing to assess. "I must admit, I did think this was but a passing thought. I warn you again, Wright, this shall not be flashy flight suits and all the…pussy? Is that the word?" The CAG's use of the term is comically tentative. And her drawling Gemenese accent pronounces it 'Poos-CEE.' "The work me and mine do is highly technical, takes months of training to even be vaguely competent at, and as dangerous as any job done on this boat. It is not some flight of fancy to be taken up on a whim."

"So you've got /months/ to try to convince me I shouldn't do it, then," Shiner argues, grinning crookedly. "I know it's hard work, sir, I've talked to a bunch of the guys. But, look, put it this way, sir. When I signed up, I didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of ever getting through the entry stuff to learn to fly. They told me the best place for me was on the deck where I could lift things, paint things, drive things and most of all clean things. But now? Now, sir? Well, no offence, but you're desperate for bodies, right? So if maybe I'm not so sharp at history or writing essays or whatever, you'll give me a chance now that I'd never have got before. I'd be a dumbass not to make the most of that."

"Yes. We are desperate," Cidra agrees in a deadpan. Still watching him. Skeptically. Very skeptically. She sighs. "All right. It cannot do harm to let you try. In addition to flight training you would have to go through a truncated version of Officer Candidate School as well. Usually one would not be considered for an officer without a college degree but…we have given up sticking to that requirement for pilots. Indeed, we are desperate."

Shiner fistpumps, letting out a hiss of triumph. "I could kiss you, sir! Frakking /awesome/!" He straightens, lifting his chin. "You point me at it, sir, and I'll frakking do it, too. Dude, I even hit the /library/ the other day. I can do whatever you throw at me."

"For now I shall give you clearance for sim time with our other Nuggets," Cidra says. "On very…low levels of difficulty to start. Put six hours of time in this week and if you do not entirely wash out of the physical requirements, I shall get you signed up formally. I shall have to speak with Chief Damon about this. I do not know if he can afford to lose you entirely on the Deck. Besides, I actually do think it would be valuable for you to continue to familiarize yourself with the birds."

"Six hours, yes, sir!" Shiner agrees, beaming at the woman. "Dude, you're so totally not going to be disappointed." If nothing, he does at least have keen in spades. "I can go and try the sims when I get off shift today?" Like a puppy with a new toy.

"If you like," Cidra says. Again, a little surprised by the enthusiasm. But it does not displease her. "I shall make certain someone is there to supervise you." Because she's not going to let him play with her precious machines without a babysitter. "Dude?" The nick-name makes her blink. She is likely not often called it. But she seems more confused than displeased.

Shiner pauses to consider, then corrects himself. "Well, technically dudette, I guess? Sir, I mean. Sir. Totally sir." An easy grin and a shrug. "I'm off at six. I mean, uh, eighteen hundred, sir. But if I can get one of the guys to supervise, can I try any time there's a sim free? Can I, sir?"

"Dudette?" Again in deadpan. Cidra considers that. "Let us stick with 'Major' for now, please. Or 'sir'. Or 'Toast.' That is my callsign." She says it with a certain amount of pride. Her brows arch, considering. "All right. If you are willing to put the work in, I shall see you are able."

"You're the best, Toast, sir," Shiner tells her earnestly, adding with a lascivious wink, "If you were ten years younger, I'd totally chat you up." Ten. Twenty. But saying twenty years would probably be considered rude, after all.

"Yes. Yes, it would be rude," Cidra deadpans more. Pretty much everything she says to Shiner is a deadpan. "In any case. I shall speak with Chief Damon about how we shall work this if you are to enter flight training. In the meantime, I must leave you to it." A pause, and in a more speculative tone, "Clear eyes and steady hands, Wright."

Shiner gives a cheesy double thumbs up, then remembers himself and throws up a salute instead. "Totally, sir. And you, too. With the clear eyes and hands thing. I won't let you down, sir." A pause. "Well, if I do, it's not deliberate, anyway. I'll try as hard as I can is what I mean. Okay?" He wrinkles his nose, brain finally kicking in and telling him to shut up. "Sir." And then he turns to hobble back over to his forklift, grin threatening to split his face once more.

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