| Synchronization |
| Summary: | Bootstrap and Poppy go over detonation paths for the minefield surrounding the Cylon foundry. |
| Date: | 1 Feb 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | Making Sense From No Sense |
| Players: |
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| Flight Simulation - Deck 11 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Post-Holocaust Day: #340 |
| A training room specifically dedicated to honing aerial skills, this area is equipped with several flight simulator pods that allow the pilots to practice maneuvers and tactics without being in a real live plane. The Viper-pods are installed on one side of the room with a little space between them, an attempt to provide a realistic feel for close-range wing training, while a smaller number of Raptor sim-pods are installed on the opposite side of the room from the Vipers. A central computer terminal and overhead display screen sits at the head of the room, where one can input exercises and data to be run in the sims, scroll through score records, and control the training modules. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
'Sims. 0800 hrs. Silent Mastiff planning. As per CAG. — Bootstrap'
Concise, surely, but the memo relayed all that needed to be conveyed. Having arrived early, Trask has been spending that time with final configurations of the program he's uploaded. He's already gone over it a few times since Cidra signed-off, and a few times even before then, but what's one more test run?
Poppy steps into the sims, dressed in her flight suit - after all, there wasn't an indication as to what the planning involved, and there could be simulated Viper flyings. Prompt as always, the woman enters the room with little fanfare. "I'm here, Boots. What's on the table?"
For his part, the ECO-turned-SL is wearing his duty greens. "Test runs," is the reply, not peering up from what he's doing. "Toast wants you to take point on the Vipers. I'm just the man with the plan." Just what is that plan? "Been analyzing the video feeds of the minefield, crunching the numbers, making projections of the drift… I think I've figured out a flightpath to make the detonations look like a chain-reaction caused by debris. Have it down to a few percentage points, but that's why you and the Evocati need to run the drills to get comfortable with all the permutations."
"Me and the Evocati. Fun," comes Khloe's reply, as she wastes no time and climbs into one of the Viper simulators. "Why don't I just pass this off to Birdie and let him figure it out? The man would just end up swinging around his… ego… again." It does not sound like there is any degree of affection for the Major, and likely with good reason, as both she and he are cock-sure and abrasive at best.
"You. Plural. Like the Royal we, but not we." Aka, the Black Knights. As for passing it off to Birdie, Kal blithely quips, "Something about how Major Hahn said /you/, singular, were the lead." Sympathy? From him? Over this? Yeah, right. "How you wanna assign the streams is your call. I'm just here to give you a heads-up and make sure you know all the options." That all said, "Right. Pre-flight at your leisure. Ready on my end."
Grumbling quietly, Khloe mutters something about chewing out Cidra later, but it's drowned out by the beeps and boops of her going through the simulated preflight. "Board is green. Launching in 3… 2… 1…" And whoosh. Not very exciting from the perspective of a sim pod, but all the visuals are there, at least. "Waiting for your vector."
Evandreus left a binder here, earlier. From the strange way his hair's arranged, flat on one side of his head and sticking up all on the other, and from the pillow lines on his cheek, it looks as though he caught some sort of quick nap between then and now. He slips in around the frame of the hatchway, endeavoring not to call too much attention to himself as he hunts down the thing.
"Carom one thirty-three, sixteen, two twenty-seven is the first perm. They've all been plugged in, projections linked, so you can run through the lot of 'em as you deem fit. I'll stick around for the first one to answer any questions you might have." Not that Poppy can see from within her simpod, but Bootstrap picks up a nearby folder that he idly waves. "Hard data is here since I figure you'll wanna review it. And 'cuz it never hurts to have a better idea of a situation before entering it." Unlike now, where Khloe is effectively being thrown into the deep-end. "For this run, I've configured a section so you can get a better feel. When you have your peeps rounded, just scrap the AIs."
The simulation is pretty straight forward, displaying the minefield surrounding the Cylon foundry.
<FS3> Khloe rolls Vipers: Success.
Taking her Viper along the projected path, and dodging this way and that, she smirks slightly. "Fly it like you stole it," she says to no one in particular; those who know her, and Leyla, know that's a shared phrase between the two of them from the Hephaestus days. "Seems pretty straightforward, Kal… whoops!" She gives her simulated Viper a Dizzy-style roll to avoid one of the sim-mines she didn't account for. "Okay, maybe not so straightforward. But it's not that much more complicated than the obstacle course back at flight school." And, true to fashion, the Knights SL finishes the first leg of the course without further incident.
Evandreus lays hands on his binder and slides a knee onto a chair nearby it at one of the work tables, half-listening to what's on here as he opens up the pile of bound printouts and pulls it open to a given tab, where a pencil stub is already waiting for him where he left off.
As Trask's attention shifts from simpod back to the laptop screen, the Raptor bunny called Bunny is noticed. A simple upward tilt of the chin is offered as greeting before it's back to monitoring. Then, to Poppy, a faint smirk, "Never said it was like flyin' into Aphrodite's cooter and comin' out without contracting an STD, Pops. It's just to get you acclimated to the flightpaths and to coordinate the timing of the detonations. Synchronization is the key here." Because the Vipers can easily outfly the blasts. It's a matter of making the blasts look like a debris drift induced chain reaction.
Much as he said, when Khloe triggers a mine, her AI squadron also does its part to perpetuate the illusion.
Industrious Bunny is industrious. Gnawing on the blunt end of his pencil stub in between making annotations, if he weren't half-kneeling in his chair like a kindergartener leaning on a coloring table, he'd look like a regularly productive adult. Of course, when that bit of imagery drifts into his head long enough to strike cognizance, he lifts his head and looks over to Trask, eyebrows amused and mouth incredulous in a tickled little look before he goes back to his equations.
"Right. Simulated debris, so whatever AI or Toaster left on that facility doesn't suspect anything. Sounds doable." And that's when Poppy brings her sim-Viper back to the sim-barn, and goes through the landing cycle. Thorough to the end. "Everything else I need in that folder?" She asks, turning to regard Trask. At noticing Evan, she gives him a slight nod. "Bunny."
"See how quickly you picked that up? And you wondered why Toast wanted you in-charge." Pish-posh. Offering the folder, Trask adds, "Yep. All the numbers you could possibly want. The recon footage has been archived." And for anyone doubting the rumor that the man has gone cold turkey with nicotine, the lack of him tacking on something along the lines of 'so if you really wanna review all that film to make your own drift projections, knock yourself out, but that'd just be an idiotic waste of time' certainly is the proof in the pudding. "You have any questions or problems, lemme know. Other than that, it's all yours."
"Hiii," Evan calls back at hearing his name, the single syllable elongated into two, slightly sing-song, while his eyes don't leave the paper again until he's run out of space at the bottom of the margin and turned it around to continue the commentary crooked-wise along the bottom.
Khloe smirks crookedly at Bunny's engrossment in his numbers. Then, glancing up at Trask, she accepts the folder. "How many Vipers will we need for the task force? I'd rather use the least amount of our best pilots for this little fireworks show, just in case there's an alert-scramble. Gotta leave someone to shoot at the Toasters in case they spring on us while we're picking at their foundry." She flips the sim pod to "off" and clambers out.
"Minimum suggested requirements are all in there." At the end up the day, though, the Harriers' SL isn't in-charge of Viper operations. He simply saw fit to gather and analyze the data, and then pitch the idea to the CAG.
Evandreus tucks the end of his gnawed-on pencil back between his teeth. He never used to chew on his pens and pencils— that's something that's only started in the last few months. But every fellow needs to cope somehow, and Bunny's evidently taken to becoming as identifiable with his callsign as possible. He looks over the notes once more, then turns the page.
"Right," Khloe repeats, frowning slightly. "Make me actually read science-y stuff. Thanks." She doesn't even open the folder, instead tucking it under her arm. "That all?"
"It's the price you pay for not trusting that I know what I'm doing," Bootstrap smiles, even batting his lashes a bit. "But, yeah. That's all /I/ have to add." Collecting the laptop, he reiterates, "Like I said, though, you need somethin', lemme know." That said, unless further detained, the meeting is adjourned, as far as he's concerned.