PHD #427: Strive for Honor
Strive for Honor
Summary: Bran and Keenan receive their post-Ophion decorations, and Bran gets more responsibility dumped on his shoulders in the form of LT pins.
Date: 29 Apr 2042 AE
Related Logs: The Areion battle logs, particularly We Are Evocati
Cidra Bran Keenan 
Ready Room - Deck 7 - Battlestar Cerberus
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.
Post-Holocaust Day: #427

Around the ship, honors are being handed down by Command for various merits earned in the recent battle against the Areion. Piece by piece, such are being portioned out in the pilots and ECOs of the Fighting Fourteenth. Bran and Keenan have been called by the CAG to to the Ready Room to receive their due, whatever it may be. Cidra awaits them, standing at the podium in her duty blues.
Linus has left behind his security blanket in order to escape the guest quarters and see the world beyond. After the trials and tribulations presented by the combined forces of cylons, space flus, and traitorous humans he looks rather well, he can even carry himself with a light, good-natured smile and ease of step. The ECO pauses when entering the ready room but it's a familiar room, nothing dangerous, and so he continues in his duty blues. "Sir," he greets, even going so far as to salute.

Ensign Keenan Raios has been the topic of a slight amount of gossip lately, and the reasons for it are obvious the moment he walks into the ready room. The clean, impressive officer's blues that he wears are a stark contrast to the small white bandages covering his left eyebrow, concealing the stitches beneath. Still bearing a black eye, and a few small, scabby wounds rest on his knuckles.

Stepping in just after Pens, the ECO that he shared a Raptor with during the fight with the Areion, he turns to see the ever stoic form of Cidra standing once more behind the podium, the very place where they first officially met.

The salute is acknowledged fluidly by Cidra. "Pens. Pom-Poms. As you were." Keenan earns a decided arch of her brow at his rather battered state. She regards him, mildly. For a moment, it looks as if she's going to ask him about it. But, she doesn't. Instead, she descends on the pair of them, with two little black boxes. "Ensign. Lieutenant. In these troubled days honors are being paid to the services shown during the battle with the 'Evocati' during the Areion mutiny. I am most gratified by the reports of the performance of my pilots during this sortie. You two in particular. First and foremost, you are both awarded the Fleet Commendation Medal, with valor device, for courageous and gallant services in the course of combat." That said, she flicks open said boxes and makes to pin said medals on the pair of them in turn. First Keenan, then Bran.

Bran makes use of his right hand in sweeping down from his brow and over the front of his chest, glancing away from Cidra and regarding Keenan. He keeps quiet though for the time being and with that his attention flits back in Cidra's direction when she moves toward them. With her explaining things, his expression starts to sober itself. There's a moment of quietly clearing his throat and then looking down to the medal when it's his turn to be pinned. So shiny.

Moving a little slower than he should, Keenan's salute rises and lowers after Toast's just after falling into line next to the ECO. Eye contact is established, and the moment that Keenan senses the CAG eyeballing his recent wounds, he lowers them to focus on the box in her hand. The box is opened to reveal the Fleet Commendation Medal, and his pupils widen, a recognizeable sign of surprise on his face.
When she steps in to pin the medal to his chest, he takes in a slow breath and dares to show a small smile on his face, rather proud of himself at this very moment.

"Additionally," Cidra continues, retrieving a pair of octagonal folders from the podium. "Captain Trask did recommend your conduct in battle for special recognition, and Command does agree. I present to you special commendation from Commander Pewter, for exceptional gallantry in the course of battle. On April the Fifteenth, Lieutenant Bran and Ensign Raios did break through the battle lines of 'Evocati' at risk to their own lives and deliver a tactical missile strike to the Escort Carrier Areion. This action disrupted the Areion's ability to deploy its flak cannons in that sector of the battlefield and made things a fair bit less hot for the rest of those flying out there. Well done, gentleman. Very well done indeed."

Bran breaks from his relatively rigid stance in order to look down toward the medal pinned against his chest. There's a short whistle under his breath and a quick smile offered to Keenan, and then Cidra is speaking up once again and that's where his gaze goes. "The Lords guided us well that night," murmurs the man under his breath before returning to his quiet. "And the Ensign happens to be an excellent pilot." Because he'll honor everyone but himself.

The side of Keenan's mouth tugs into yet another smile at the mention of their dreadful attack run on the Areion's flak batteries. Arms clasped behind his back, he glances down to the shiny medal on his chest before raising his gaze to the folder in Toast's hands. His jaw tightens as the memory of white-knuckling it through the flak screen is still fresh in his mind. The part that softens him the most, however, is the mention of Commander Pewter's name with Bootstrap's, forcing him to swallow. It's a high honor indeed, forcing Keenan to suddenly feel slightly ashamed for the stitches in his eyebrow. "Thank you sir." The words come out easily. "The Lords did guide us," He nudges his head in Pens' direction, playing along. "I just picked a hole that Pens made clear. The Cylons weren't touching us, and I believe it's because of his screen-work."

"And you have more than fair aim, Pens," Cidra says to Bran. Now that she's handed the folder over to Keenan her focus is entirely on the ECO. Gaze mild, vaguely probing, though her expression is inscrutable. "The gods have guided you well in your service in the Navy, even before the worlds fell. Why did you join the service, if I may ask? I always do like to hear the tale from those who have lived it." It's unclear *why* she's going down this particular tangent now. She's inscrutable.

"Hey, I'm just doing my duty." Brans weakly tries to deflect from their compliments and explanation of things; it all makes him begin to smile. He would fully do such if it weren't for Cidra focusing on him. There's a glance given to the folders, particularly the one still left and presumably for him. "I always wanted to fly. I've worked all my life too, assumed enlisting would let me do both at once." He never went to Academy, enlisted right at the age of seventeen. Just not bright enough or lucky enough or skilled enough for that, Academy, but it's a moot and hypothetical point now. "I may not do the flying, but I do work to keep others safe. Strive for honor, I'm doing that. It's one of the few things our enemies can't take away from us unless we give it to them."

Keenan's eyes remain on the folder in his hands while they talk, but there's no doubt that he's listening to their conversation. His eyes scan from left to right, reading over the diagonal commendation from Pewter, taking in the sight of it. He's received a medal and a commendation from his officers, a sign that perhaps he might be finding his way more on the Cerberus than he ever did in her cargo holds as a civilian.

"You do at that. You do your duty well, Linus Bran. And now you are being called upon it to do it higher." She fishes into her pocket for another little box, which she flips open. It contains LT pins. The Full LT sort. "Honors to you service, Lieutenant. It shall get heavier in the coming days."

Keenan's eyes shift to look sidelong at Pens at the mention of his promotion. Closing the folder in his hands, holding it in such a way that it can be taken away from him or passed to Pens for his viewing, Pom-Poms turns his head and flashes Pens a broad smile. "Well done, Lieutenant. You do good work."

Bran starts to speak up but thinks otherwise, particularly in catching sight of the shiny, brand new pins. "Ah," he starts with a quieted rasp, appreciative just as well as taken aback. "Thank you. I look forward to things then." He gets a promotion but he's looking briefly aside towards Keenan with a short grin. "Oh, you'll be catching up with little old me in no time, Raios."

"Honors to your service, Lieutenant," Cidra says, reaching over to stick on the pins on Bran's collar. And then she leans in to kiss him. Briskly, once on each cheek if he'll allow. It's not a romantic gesture in the least. There is a formal sort of ceremony to it.

Keenan looks back towards the podium in the center of the room as cidra leans in to kiss Bran on the cheeks. While the gesture isn't romantic, it's awkward to watch people hugging nonetheless. He opens his mouth to respond to Bran's comment, but catches himself. It's a grand moment, one that he chooses to formalize a bit more. "Yes. Honors to your service, Lieutenant."

Honors be to Bran. With a respectful smile to adorn his expression, he takes each incoming kiss with ease and lightly bows his head upon them. "Thank you, Sir." He then rights his posture and brings his hands to the small of his back, chin lifted now that there is a new set of pins at his collar: Junior, no more.

"No thanks are necessary, for rank is a responsibility," Cidra says. "As befits, I shall be expecting more of you in the days to come. I would like you to begin working more intensively with Lieutenant Aydin and myself on your qualifications as a pilot, as well as an ECO. Your record shows you have a fair hand on how to manage a Raptor in an emergency, but you have the best foundation among your fellow ECOs to qualify properly for general flight promptly. I should like you to be available to pitch in the role when necessary, though countermeasures should always remain your primary assignment. We do the best we can to get the Nuggets through quickly, but it takes due time to make a combat pilot. And time is a thing we all have precious little of remaining."

Lifting his eyebrow as Bran is put on the fast-track to doubling up on his operational capacities, Keenan nods his head a few times in silent agreement. Bran is a damned good ECO, and countermeasures should always remain his primary assignment, but he was not aware of Pens' pursuit of flight status. He's got the right group of instructors indeed. Taking in a slow, quiet breath, Keenan shifts his footing from left to right, eyes forward as he resists the urge to rub at the sore side of his face.

Bran opens his mouth to speak up but once again falters and thinks otherwise, if only because his duties have just about tripled. Though briefly shocked he is not fully daunted and so speaks up in turn, "Of course." He's raising a baby with Quinn. That's more difficult than defying death many a time when out amongst the black of space, or something: one of those, he is more experienced to handle. He stops reflecting on the thought and nods. "I can do that." There is no doubt with the ECO. There's only the expectant look for more.

That appears to be all for today from Cidra. Or she's just giving Bran a reprieve after his brief open-mouth. Probably the former. "You can and shall. Anyhow. Dismissed, Lieutenant. Ensign." Her gaze lingers on beaten Keenan. "You and I shall have to talk later." Ominous. "But for now, take your liberties. They have been earned."

Oh that's not good. Keenan's eyes tilt to Cidra, watching her as her gaze locks in on him. In a non-challenging way, he holds that eye contact until she offers for him to take his well earned liberties. His shift is over, and he doesn't have a CAP today. Either way, he's got a rough conversation ahead of him. Bringing the side of his hand to his brow in a crisp salute, he holds the CAG's gaze as he pays his respects. "Thank you, Sir." He says, lowering the salute as he turns to leave. Only then does he turn his eyes for the door.

Bran will be sure to check out his folder in time but for now he settles in nodding to Cidra before glancing over towards Keenan. That does sound rather ominous, in a way. He turns his attention back forward and up shoots his right hand into a penultimate salute. He's dismissed though and lingers just long enough to follow the other man out of the room.

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