| Tables and CAGs |
| Summary: | Quinn stumbles in on Tillman 'supervising' a table installation. Cidra appears. |
| Date: | Uhm. Today. |
| Related Logs: | Nuuuuuthin. |
| Players: |
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Map Room
The one object that dominates this room is the one it is named for: the giant plotting table in the center of the room. Bottom-lit like the plot in CIC, this one is twenty feet across and about the same distance wide. The maps, which are rolled and kept in a locker at the side of the room, provide much more detail than most of the charts in CIC and are especially useful in planning tactical operations. Unscaled models of ships are available to be situated on the surface of the table and risers on each side of the room allow for a small audience to watch or be briefed. A single large LCD screen is built into the wall at the far end to display reconnaissance or other supplemental material.
A lot of the doors aren't even labelled yet. This one is down the hall from CIC a bit and around a corner. Tillman finds himself standing at the end of the table as it flickers on and off. There's a technician underneath it, legs splayed out and futzing with the electronics. The Captain, in his fresh blues, looks unimpressed with his arched brow and crossed arms. "Look, son, this ain't rocket science. Plug the damned thing in and leave it plugged in." Without a reply it can only be assumed the contractor is giving him the finger from out of eyesight.
Quinn has always been curious. An explorer. Big barns, old planes, whatever she can get her hands into. And this is the biggest barn and newest plane on the block. So, after a nap and a shower, not technically on duty so her wild red hair has been permitted to dry free in big, frizzy curls, Maggie Quinn is just hunting around, finding whatever she can. She hears the comment about putting something together and her brows raise. She could never resist something to tinker with. She ducks her redhead into the room, staring at the two, the contractor on his back… She smirks…"Need some help down there?" She calls to the man, her accept all crisp upper class Caprican.
Tillman glances over his shoulder to the redhead and smirks, looking at those red curls for a moment. "He might need it. The dumb shit was closer before than he is now. I'm not quite sure why the Navy pays these guys." There's some muttering from under the table as the older man turns a bit to face Quinn more. "Don't think we've met? Fresh arrival? Captain Clive Tillman. The Cerb's Tac Officer."
Quinn looks up towards the slightly older man, though she's in her early to mid thirties at least. She offers him a hand, "Captain Margaret Quinn… new SL for the Harriers." Her accent is as clipped and professional as they come, somehow dissonant with her wild red hair and that heavy smattering of freckles all across her face and brow. She's got a strong grip, calloused hands not just from years of flying. But her hand is warm to the touch, the sort of hand that is a joy to shake. "Captain Tillman? An honour." And then she looks back down to the poor technician.."….May I?" She asks him, kneeling down to look under the table.
"A pleasure, Captain." Tillman's grasp is firm, the pump purposeful. She might get the impression this guy has a lot of confidence in himself. But his easy smile betrays some simple humility. "Good to have another Raptor Driver on board. Turns out I know your CAG - Major Hahn. Did part of my last tour with her. If you haven't reported to her yet, you're in for a treat. As damned fine a CAG as they come if her past experience is any tell." The man's smile spreads a little more but he quirks a brow at her with the offer. "Damn. You too? Yeah, go for it if he'll let you in there. Met some Raptor Lieutenant earlier like that. Kid seemed to think she was Deck material."
Quinn laughs a bit. "I… wouldn't put myself up there with the snipes. They're a damned sight smarter than the lot of us, I promise you, but I know a thing or two." And then she leans down, flashing her best pretty-girl smile at the contractor. He doesn't seem to mind, and she settles easily down onto the floor, sliding across the new carpet on her back as she looks up to the underneath panel of the big map table. She doesn't say anything a few moments, reaching up, letting smaller fingers used to hard labor tinker much the same way the contractor was. She just fits a bit better. "When you're in a Raptor, sir… lot more things to go wrong than a Viper, and often not the choice of getting back to the ship to fix it. We're the tow birds, remember? So… you learn a thing or two."
Tillman snorts. "See, that's a smart attitude. I told her I sure as hell wouldn't want a Deckhand flying my Raptor anymore than I'd want standard maintenance done by a pilot. Or an ECO. Nothing personal, I just think we specialize for a reason. I'm all for a hobbiest, though." The man in his blues shuffles around a bit to watch her move under the table and work at the electronic. It takes a few seconds but it finally lights up and stays up. "Hey! How about that? Success comes from an unlikely source. Thanks a ton, Captain!" The TACCO seems genuinely pleased, lowering a hand to help her up. Contractors don't need help. Especially when they FAIL.
Quinn slips back out from under the map desk, giving the contractor a briefly apologetic smile, "M'dad taught me." She slips into a touch of a lazier accent, just for a moment, like being under the bowels of a machine just reminded her of more relaxed days. But then she's got her hand in the TACCO's palm and she's letting him help her up smartly. She pulls up to her feet, shoulders and back straight, almost to attention before the bridge officer. "Thank you, sir. Just helps having smaller hands sometimes." She smiles warmyl.
"Dad's are like that, aren't they?" Tillman's grin might indicate that he knows all too well what that is like. Helping her back up, the man just nods. "Don't thank me. You fixed it. Thank -you-." He smirks and steps back to let the contractor out. The man does-so with a grumble and heads for the door with his tool bag. The TACCO watches him out before shaking his head. "So fresh redeployment as of, what? Today? Where'd you find yourself before this?" His backside sets against the map table, glancing to it briefly to make sure it still works.
Cidra arrives from Deck 7 Corridor.
Cidra has arrived.
"The AssaultStar Victory… far, far smaller than this, actually. It's been a while since I've been on a Battlestar… and, somehow… Cerberus seems… Bigger." Maggie gives a quiet, wide eyed look to the whole room around them before she begins to step towards the blank LED screen, like it could be a window looking out to the stars, but it's not. Somehow, she's still got that wide eyed girl look where a ship like this is concerned, even if she's a decade into her career and has seen her share of assignments. "And yourself, Captain?" She asks of the older man across from her.
Tillman is leaning against the giant maptable in the center of the room, the bottom-lit whiteness not illuminating anything just yet. He nods a few times to the other Captain. "Nice. AssaultStars are some crazy ships. I haven't been on one personally but I've done some combat drops with them running high cover back about seven years ago when I was on a Landing Ship - the Hairetos." He follows her gaze to the screen, that easy smirk not leaving him. "Me? Nothin' special. Finished up a couple years on the Battlestar Aegean. Its another Merc. A few differences from this boat, but nothing too major. Most of its in systems and junk like that." He looks back to her again. "Y'said your dad taught you some wrenching? Where ya from?"
Cidra's entry into the Map Room is quiet. She's not sneaking, precisely, but she takes some care to be unobtrusive to whatever activity is going on inside as she closes the hatch. For a moment she just stands there, gaze shifting about the room. It pauses on Tillman but finally lands upon, and regards, Quinn .
The question of where she's from makes Quinn's hazel eyes go momentarily wide. "..Uh… most recently, Caprica City, sir…" And that would match her accent, so clipped, perfect and proper. Of course, she's not lying. She did go to the Fleet academy there… even if that's not where her tinkering father is. She smiles smoothly, doing her best to distract conversation. "Eager to meet the CAG. She sounds fantastic." She admits earnestly, and then turns her head… and… Speak of the devil.
The TACCO bobs his head a few times, listening to the few details she's throwing out to him. "Heard C City isn't too bad a place. Always wanted to visit, myself. But yeah, the CAG's a-" Eyyyy! He glances over to the listening Cidra and smirks, standing off the table. "Welcome, welcome, Major. I think I know someone who is just -itching- to meet you." He leans a bit to stage-whisper to Quinn: "That's Major Hahn." When he finishes he slides a sly wink at Cid but falls quiet.
Indeed, speak of devils and they will appear. At mention of the CAG, Cidra clears her throat. Just a soft "Ahem." She laces her hands behind her back, venturing out of the shadows and striding over to meet the pair of them. "Captain Tillman." Though her tone is professional, there's a note of friendliness in it as she addresses the TAC officer. "I was told you were lurking about here. I was hoping to review the navigational maps we have on Uram." Her own alto voice is tempered by a strong Gemenese accent. Blue eyes are directed back to Quinn at that. "Has the Captain been telling tales about me?"
Quinn blinks back and forth between them both for a moment, before she half laughs, a lilting, husky sound from her usually so clipped and crisp voice. She turns instead towards the Major, warmly offering her small, calloused hand. "Major Hahn! It's a pleasure… no, an honor, to finally meet you. I went to report in when I first came aboard, but you were an elusive woman to track down. Now you've found me. Impressive." Maggie flashes a smile, trying to sound more comfortable and natural than her somewhat shy self feels, even if her heart's going a million miles an hour.
The TACCO seems more professional despite the smile from Cidra when she addresses him. "Absolutely, sir. I was supervising the, ah, installation? -of this wonderful map table. The contractor failed horribly and I believe we have Captain Quinn here to thank for its current function. I'll get the maps, though." He dips a head to her and slowly moves off for the locker at the back of the room, giving the two women time.
Cidra reaches out a hand - her left - to take Quinn's. She doesn't shake it so much as clasp it firmly and hold for a beat, blue eyes seeking to meet the younger pilot's. There's a steady, inscrutable quality to her gaze. When she finally drops Quinn's hand, her fingers return to their laced position behind her back. "Less impressive than a coincidence. I was, alas, not blessed with the gift of prescience. Pity. It would help my targeting immeasurably. Quinn?" The name is clearly familiar to her. She makes a soft "Ahh" sound. "Den mother to the Harriers." A nod at Tillman's words, though her attention remains on the pilot.
Quinn meets Cidra's eyes openly, earnestly, respectful but just a bit shy, a certain reserved nature to her that is probably fine behind the scenes, but must not come out in her flying or she never would have been promoted to any sort of command. It's a strange contrast to her flaming red head which, normally, is said to display such a ballys attitude. She allows Cidra to keep her hand for several heartbeats and then release, her palm returning to begin clasped behind her back. "Indeed, sir. I look forward to meeting the rest of my boys and girls… I already met Lieutenant Westfield. She's eager, ready to work. it's good to see." and then she smiles back to the TACCO for a briefly proud moment. "It was nothing. I'm just glad it's working, Tillman."
The CIC Captain takes his sweet time opening up the locker. He actually has to think a moment about the digital keypad combination, trying one before the second one clicks over. He gives the door a thumbs-up before opening it. The man taps the maps as he passes by them before realizing they're in alphabetical order - something he obviously wasn't expecting. Finding the right one, Tillman slides the huge roll out and shuts the locker before looking back to the two women as he makes his way back over. "You fixed my table. I'm indebted forever." He taps his free hand to his heart before looking to Cid. "Looks like we've got Uram divided into four quadrants, Major. Here's one." A big hand pops the top off the tube and taps the map out into it before he unfurls its length onto the huge table.
Cidra nods once at mention of Westfield. "One of our backseaters. The lieutenant is quite eager. Perhaps overly so, but that's not necessarily a bad quality in a younger officer if properly directed. What *did* you do precisely to the table, Captain?" She's curious. While waiting for an answer she strolls over to have a look at the map. "Excellent. I like to have the lay of the land in my head before I start any serious planning."
Quinn lofts a single red brow as the woman asks what she did to the table. She chuckles faintly, "Put a loose wire back into place. The contractor kept looking at the big picture, like something was installed wrong or a part had already gone dead. Instead of seeing the single tiny connection that was missing the plate. It should be fine now, sir." She explains it simply, a bit of pride in her clipped, accented voice. It really was an easy fix, the contractor's mind probably thinking -too- complicated for it. "…And yes, I… saw what you mean about Lieutenant Westfield. She's young. It… it's often a trap. I have no doubt we'll all set good examples for her. Perhaps I'll have her fly with me for the first bit, sir, to keep a good eye on her." Quinn also smiles back to the TACCO, almost a bit more shy as he mentions that…"Bring me coffee tomorrow morning and we're even, Tillman."
Tillman nods to the Major. "I know the feeling. I spent most of my first day here reacquainting myself with the area. I haven't actually been out there to East Bumblefrak but I've been just this side of it. Hear a lot of things. Some of the junk is obvious about this sector just by looking at this mess." The TACCO throws a hand out palm up, waving across the map in front of him. There's asteroids floating around, a couple odd magnetic anomalies, gravity wells, a thick belt of a combination of gasses.. you name it. Its just lacking a singularity. "This Westfield. She's a Lieutenant? Met her this morning. Lovely, she is." His voice is completely flat. Looking back to Quinn he smirks and nods. "Done and done. Consider your coffee delivered."
Cidra lets out another of those soft "Ahh"s. "Another cockpit technician. You and Lieutenant Westfield will get on. You should meet one of our Viper jocks as well. Lieutenant Laskaris. Intriguing fellow. His background is in computer science." She does not bother to hide the mild surprise in her tone. "He may be the first Viper pilot I've met with a master's degree." Lightest touch of ribbing toward the Viper pilots. A nod to Quinn about Westfield. "That is a good notion. She is newly promoted to full LT. I think likely feels the need to prove herself. Show her the best way she can do that is by competently doing her job. Spreading one's self too thin merely distracts the body and mind." Her gaze is then directed back to the map. Narrowing as she summons those details Tillman describes to her mind. "Should prove an interesting challenge."
Quinn laughs faintly. "I wouldn't call myself a technician. As I told Captain Tillman here… I know just enough that if we're floating in space, I should be able to patch us back together enough to get home. Trust me, sir, it's sheerly survival instinct and nothing more. We're the tow trucks after all, so… if shit goes wrong, who do we get a tow from?" She winks a moment, the slightly dirty words from her mouth definitely a bit odd with her accent, but it's an amusing combination. She then smiles back towards Tillman, a touch of wiry thoughtfulness as he speaks about bumblefrak. "…Well, I suppose I should let you both to it. If either of you need anything, I'm around, just ask, please."
"Now, now, Major. I'm sure there's probably another Viper Insert out there with a degree or two. Raptor crews can't hog all the IQ points in the fleet. Gotta spread that love out a little." Tillman inclines his head towards her a bit with a devious grin. He then leans forward to match the hang of his head, dropping his palms flat onto the edge of the table. "Oh it'll be interesting. And a challenge. That? That I'm fairly certain of. The biggest burr in my ass is going to be figuring out how to hunt out there. Last night I seriously considered stationing someone on the Obs Deck with a spotting scope." He shakes his head and looks back to Quinn. Till looks a bit surprised that she might be going but doesn't say anything, deferring to the Major instead.
"I make no claims of technical prowess myself, Captain Tillman," Cidra replies smoothly. "My paltry bachelor's has very little practical application. From a technical perspective, at least." She inclines her head to Quinn. "Do not let us keep you if you need to settle in, Captain, though you are quite welcome. We shall speak later. I have something of a special project in mind for my Raptor division to prepare us for the war games. Particularly those with some skill at fiddling with the technical end. I would like to see if there's a way the DRADIS can be configured to compensate for the interference in this system. I shall speak with you more on it at a later time. It may require some assistance from the CIC DRADIS experts as well. And perhaps an engineer, if complex DRADIS manipulation is required. I am still seeing if I can get the pieces to fall into place. There will also be a general briefing on the Air Wing's larger part in the games, once more of our personnel are aboard. This whole ship seems still to be settling in."
Quinn listens to the Major's words, nodding curtly, "Yes, sir. Sounds fantastic. I'll be more than ready, and I do not have to leave now, but I did not think either of you would care for me hovering in on a private meeting. I will stay and listen if permitted. All the better to be prepared." She flashes another warm smile, looking curiously over to that map, now actually curious as to what they're all planning. Quietly, Maggie mulls over the idea about the DRADIS, her smile falling into a pressing line of her lips, thoughtful. "…Hm. It's probably possible, sir. It will be a lot of trial and error just to see what adjustment and frequencies work better in this mess. But I think we can do it. Sounds like a fun challenge, at least."
"That doesn't mean you don't have the brainpower, sir," The TACCO allows. His words are quick as if reminding something to an old friend who's trying to get that edge in. The man falls quiet again through and looks to the map in front of him, letting out a long sigh through his lips. Eyes trail along the different systems in the sector and the specs on each one listed out beside it. His attention seems to slowly melt into the chart as if becoming one with Uram. Those blue/green eyes begin to dash around between different points like they're hooked to an FTL while his lips twist like there's a giant wad of tabacco in his mouth. Then, out of nowhere when Quinn finishes: "DRADIS pickets may be our best bet out there. It looks like we'll be facing a lot of background radiation from some of those pulsars out there towards the center of the sector. I just don't have a damned clue as to how to fight against some of this random debris. Looks like that red dawrf out there on the far end messed this area up when some star supernova'd, sir. Blew the dwarf to pieces and knocked out a few planetary bodies with it." A hand lifts to hang off the back of his neck.
"This is not top secret, Captain," Cidra replies to Quinn. "Besides, you are one of my squadron leaders, and thus should have a firm grasp of our tactical situation as well. Besides, I would like your opinion. Your service record said you served on the Tauron line, yes?" At the moment, Cidra isn't so much using the map to plan as just taking it in. As if fixing the points of it in her mind. The faintest of smiles to Quinn. "That is the idea. I would like to give a good account of ourselves in the games, yes. But I am also curious to see how my pilots work together to face such challenges. And how they work with non-flight officers as well. Speaking of, who is the Chief Engineer on this boat, Captain Tillman?" A tilt of her head at the TACCO. "I have yet to meet to them. I am still feeling out many of the personnel here. Though some, like Captain Mackay, encourage much about the Admiral's ability to pick his crew."
Quinn nods curtly to her superior, "Yes, sir. I would like to stay then." She confirms. And with that, she crosses the rest of the way back to the map table, looking down over the large spread before them. "And I was most recently on the Tauron line, yes. Doing Marine drops." In and out of the closest thing to a combat zone the fleet has seen in a while… she must not be too shabby behind a raptor stick either. SHe's now, however, focusing on the map before them. DRADIS Pickets will be helpful…but keeping them up and running when they're easy targets to pick off will be the challenge. Maybe we can… disguise them somehow. Make them look like debris and dampen their broadcast signal… " SHe murmurs, just throwing ideas out as they look across the map.
Tillman looks back up to Cidra and blinks. Not a question he was expecting. "The Chief Engineer? Uhm." He blinks for a second and tilts his head. "Captaiiin Gabrieli? I think that's him." He rights his head and looks back to the CAG. "Yes, sir, I believe that's his name. I haven't met the gentleman myself, though." The TACCO then looks to Quinn and nods a few times. "Yeah, they might be expecting that. But I'd got a few ideas I'm still chewing over. Once I get them to be more than just passing ideas and random thoughts, I'll fill you both in. Sir." With the last he nods to the Major before looking back to the table. "Now, like I'm so fond of saying - I ain't a pilot. You both of you are. LEt's take a look at this part of the Sector and tell me what you all see. What are the problems off hand? What is going to prevent what in your Raptors?" His eyes narrow. Cidra would have seen this before. The TACCO is zenning out on a map. It could be a long night.
"Captain Gabrieli?" There is, for a moment, the faintest hint of something akin to recognition of the name. Another low "Ahhh." But all Cidra says is, "I have not yet seen him aboard, either. Anyhow. To Uram." With that, her attention is entirely directed at the troublesome system, and planning.