BCH #007: The Good Word
The Good Word
Summary: A pair of former and now current shipmates catch up on the Deck.
Date: February 19, 2041
Related Logs: None
Laskaris Atreus 

Uh, hangar deck. Will add later.

The deck is absolutely busy. Vipers are being moved into and out of repair bays with a regularity that is nearly hypnnotic in it's rhythm. Crews are swapping frameboards out and in with software removal then installation as they go. Atreus is working in one of the repair bays. Having just finished with one bird, he pops out and whistles shrilly. A hand lifts and makes a rotation twice above his head. Crews convien, one set to move the viper out of the way. the second to pull a new one into place. Before delving into this new bird, the man wipes his hands on a rag and takes a moment to watch those around him at work.

In fact, it's possibly the busiest Laskaris has ever seen the deck in the short time he's been aboard. He weaves in and out of the crowd of jumpsuited deck crewmen; he's wearing his blues, not a flightsuit, so it doesn't seem he's here to fly. The blond Viper pilot watches silently as Vipers are shuffled from bay to bay. After a bit of watching, he begins to move off until something catches his eye. Stopping abruptly, he raises an eyebrow as he catches sight of the deck chief. There's an amused snort as he steps towards the man. "Constantine Atreus, as I live and breathe," he says when he's a few steps closer to the chief, a thin smile on his face. "Had no bloody idea you were here."

The voice seems so out of place that Atreus blinks twice before it registers that this is here and the voice is real. Signaling the crew to lock the new viper in its bay, he then turns. Taking a moment, he looks around until he spots the blue-clad fighter pilot. When he speaks, his voice is filled with amazement, "Anton Laskaris! The feeling is mutual. Didn't know you were aboard." Delight flashes to the man's face wiping any stress from his eyes. Striding forward, he almost claps the fighter jock on the shoulder but catches himself. "Ah, frak." Standing at attention, he raises his hand in a salute that is not only picture perfect, but shows a great deal of respect for the man before him, "I mean. Welcome to the Deck, sir."

"Cut the shit, Chief, it's me." Lasher's smile widens, but he does quickly return the other man's salute. Formalities aside, the Viper jock extends a hand. "So, seems I'm not the only Hyp refugee that ended up on this behemoth, eh?" There's a sardonic chuckle, and then Anton has to quickly step aside as a pair of knuckledraggers pass through lugging a piece of an engine cowling. "Was wondering when we'd get around t' getting a real deck chief. Makes me feel better t' see it's you."

Atreus's lips twitch a bit and the salute is lowered. He clasps the offered hand firmly, the other rising to grip Lasher's upper arm briefly. "I know it's you. But, I've just finished giving the crew a lecture about showing proper respect an' all. Can't undermine it just because the best damn pilot on the boat happens to be a good friend." He releases both, then tilts his head to watch the knuckledraggers with their burdeon. "Thanks. I'm glad to be here. The previous Chief… Well we do things differently." Looking back, his gaze has grown momentarily hard. Then, with a blink, it is gone, "I'll say this for him, though. He put together a crackerjack team. But, enough of that. I'm really glad to see you. How did you end up here? I thought this posting was for newbies and hacks." And yes, his eyes sparkle with an inner mirth.

Lasher nods in understanding. "Ah, I see your point. In that case, you may bow and scrape t' your heart's content." A smirk lets Atreus know Anton's far from serious. "From what I've heard about the goings on afore you got here? A chief with stones is exactly what this deck needed. But, ya didn't hear that from me." There's a snort at the deck chief's question. "Believe you me, Chief, I was a little confused myself, when I got the orders. Fully expected the CAG t' have my arse shuttled back to Tau Garrison as soon as the decommissioning ceremony was over. Got a feeling that fr— uh, upstanding officer would've liked nothing better than t' see my arse stewing in the desert for the next decade." He shrugs. "Apparently my SL put in a word for me. Captain Raske was always a more sensible sort."

Atreus lifts a hand to his brow, but rather than saluting, he makes a very flashy, highly styalized formal bow complete with foppish hand gestures and everything, "Of /course/ m'lord. Anything you say." Rising, he laughs once more, the sound warm, rich and low. The laughter dies, however and he nods, "Well. Thanks. Luckily, the CAG here understood the need for me to get a handle on things without pilots; or anyone else, jumping in to help. Not yet, anyway." He frowns then, slowly, "Frak, Lash. If I'd known it might come to that? I'd've put in a word for you. Sending a pilot of your caliber dirtside would've been criminal." Then the frown eases and he chuckles, "Captain Raske was a good officer. Knew the business. I was always glad to see the Captain on the Deck, y'know? As opposed to some others who shall remain nameless but we both know." He clears his throat, "Speaking of. You haven't seen Lieutenant "PrettyPrettyPrincess" McGee up in Viper Country, have you?" He sounds rather hopeful that the pilot in question is not aboard.

Lasher snickers at the chief's impromptu bowing routine. "I'm not quite as good as all that, Chief. Careful, all that praise might go to my head." Sarcasm only exaggerates his heavy Aerilon lilt even further. The man might have an ego, but at least he recognizes it. "Yeah, I'd heard about Major Hahn's imposed moratorium on pilots working on their birds. Guess I'll have t' find something else to do with my spare time besides spending half of it mucking around in Viper computers, eh?" There's another shrug at that. "Ah, well." There's a pained expression on his face at the mention of McGee; obviously, he and the chief are of one mind on the former Hyperion pilot. "Thank the Lords that I haven't, Chief. Actually, I thought I heard something about her getting a rotation on the Pegasus. Fine by me; she and Cain deserve each other. I hope that fascist breaks her, the brown-nosing twit." He tilts his head to one side. "Though, I ought t' warn you, Chief… McGee's hardly the only pretty princess in the bloody service. Don't be too relieved just yet, eh?"

Atreus snickers, though it is soft, "Ah, well. That's my fault, to tell the truth. I heard that some pilots were doing more than just routine maintenance and stuff. You know I'm okay with that. But, I'm not so okay with anyone who'se skill level I don't know mucking about." He motions with his head toward his office, "I've coffee. The same brew I had on the Hyperion." He shifts his weight just a little to allow himself a glance back toward the crews at work. "Eh. I could talk to the CAG about you, though. I know your skill set and you don't frak up and 'try stuff' without getting a good grounding first." He looks back and snickers just a little, "Now, that is a blessing straight from Hephaestus, if you ask me. That bint couldn't fly her way out of a paper sack. The Pegasus? Good riddance to bad rubbish." He pauses for an instant, then shudders, "Bet they get hitched." Refocusing, he winces and nods, "Yeah, I know. I heard that you had one here. She is a lot of why I put the ban on anyone but my own folk working on the birds. She was trying to be Deck and a pilot. You know how I feel about that, Lash. I haven't changed that much."

"You know I'm a tea drinker, Chief. Quit trying t' seduce me with that devil's brew." Lasher follows the chief towards his office anyway, one of his patented crooked smiles on his face. "Well, I never mucked around in much besides the computers and the electronic systems anyway. I figure if a master's degree in computer science doesn't qualify me t' do that much, what does, ya know? But the rest of it…" He shakes his head. "Heh. You lot are more than welcome to it. They're not paying us t' keep the damn ships in order. We break 'em, your lot fixes 'em. As far as I'm concerned, you've every right t' deliver a swift kick in the head t' any of us who thinks we can do the job better than your people." He doesn't get any more specific than that; after all, the chief himself did obliquely remind Lasher about propriety not too long ago. "Bad rubbish indeed. I'll drink to that. Or, I would if I could." There's a sharp intake of breath as he suddenly remembers something. "Speaking of which… as soon as this bloody drinking ban is lifted, you and I ought t' get together. My sister's supposed to be sending me some more of Uncle Vanya's finest." Lasher grins. "It's about the only thing that makes that rocket fuel of yours palatable."

Atreus snorts, "Yeah, I know. There's tea available too for those too pansy-ass to drink a man's brew." Sarcasm is heavy in the air and he shadows a snicker toward the pilot. Then, almost whistfully, "I keep hoping you'll come around, but noooo…" Rolling his eyes, the man pushes the door open, confident in the fact that not only Lasher knows he is teasing, but his crew does as well. "Get in there, y' bum." But, then he stills and a slow smile warms his expression, "Yeah? Vanya's hooch? By Hephaestus… That is something that I've missed. Please give your sister my best and ask her to send two? I'll even offer to get Chloe to send a blanket or a hanging or… whatever it is she and the boy are up to these days."

"She's sending six. I'll make sure one of them falls out of the box where you can find it." Laskaris winks conspiratorially. "Figured I'd stock up this time. Of course, that was before I heard about the prohibition from up high." Another shrug. "Well, plenty for later, I suppose." Lasher leans against the nearest wall; now that there's a door between him and all those nasty flammable things on the hangar deck, he lights up a cigarette. The pack is offered to the chief with a questioning glance. "Here now, Chief, a true man is one who doesn't have t' drink sludge to prove he's got a pair." Laskaris gives the other man a teasing smirk. He nods thoughtfully. "Karin loves the blanket she got last year. But really, no need for her t' go to any trouble." The man's eyes fall upon the frame on the wall. "Chloe does good work, have to say."

Atreus sighs in absolute envy, "Six!?! That is… Truly a joy to hear, Lash. Truly." As promised, there is a basket with a bunch of tea bags in their little wrappers on a shelf below the coffee pot and a pot of steaming water. "Thanks. I promise not to drink it all by myself." He leans over to accept the pack. A cigarette is slipped out and the pack returned. Digging a lighter from his pocket, he flicks it, moving the flame to the cigarette. When the flame turns the end of the stick to red cinder, he turns the lighter off and tucks it away. Opening a drawer, he retrieves an old, battered tin can that is pushed half way across the desk. By the stains along it's sides, this is an ashtray replacement. Looking up, a snicker releases smoke around the cigarette. Taking it out of his mouth, he lifts it, "Touche. Help yourself and grab a seat if you like." Looking over his shoulder, he smiles in that softer sort of way. "Yeah, she does. But, she wouldn't tell me how much was her work and how much was the boys. How is Karin, by the way? And, tell her not to worry." He looks back, laughter once more clear in his gaze. "She thinks of Karin like a little sister. She'll be pleased as punch to hear that you and I got the same assignment."

"Ah." Lasher makes a small noise of approval as Atreus brings out the tea. Grabbing a spare mug, he fills it with water and drops in one of the teabags, setting it aside for the moment as he flicks his cigarette over the ersatz ashtray. "She's doing quite well, actually. Finished medical school last month, and she should be starting her internship…" His gaze flicks down to the date on his digital watch. "… a little less than a week from now. Turns out she did get that last open spot at Acantha General on Caprica after all. And apparently, she's single again." He raises his hand to forestall comment. "That's a good thing, mind you. The guy was a total waste of skin." Another flick of ash into the can, and Anton takes a sip of the piping hot tea. "What about you? How's Chloe and the kid?"

Atreus turns to pour himself a mug of sludge, though it is richly scented and vaguely spiced with cinnimon. Sitting in the chair, he angles it until he can lift his feet up onto the corner of the desk. Crossing his ankles, he sighs. A drag on the smoke and a sip to chase it and he puffs out slowly, "Hmmm. Good for her on the medical degree and good for Caprica General to recognize talent." He pauses for a moment as memory floats to the surface, "Seems to me that I remember you weren't fond of… What was his name? Fred? Looking for a free ride, if I remember a'right?" He rests the mug on the desk, "I'm glad she's rid of him, then. She should wait and find someone worth her time." He shakes his head but then smiles a bit, "Chloe? More beautiful every day. I wish they allowed families on these boats. But, if they did, I'm not sure that I'd get much done on the Deck. Tommy?" He laughs, "He goes by Tom now, or Thomas. He's apparently started getting his own following, whatever that means. Chloe says he's planning on going to some fancy-dancy art collage. But, she did say he was paying for it himself, so he must be making money. I wish he had a more mechanical bent, but… Frak, as long as he is happy. She says that his…" Here he releases the coffee mug to make finger quotes, "Lady friend" then the hand returns to the mug, "is supportive, creative and good for him. Can't ask for much more than that."

"Farad." Laskaris corrects the pronunciation of the ex-boyfriend's name with a thin smile. "Now, I don't hate Sagittarons more than I hate anyone else, mind, but this frakker was doing his damndest to prove every bad Saggie stereotype true. Guess he figured he'd hit the gold mine when he got his fingers wrapped around a med student." Lasher's grin turns predatory. "Karin's a smarter girl than that, though. If a wee bit sentimental." His cigarette crackles and a small puff of smoke jets from his lips as he takes another drag. "Families? On a battlestar?" Anton shrugs. "I'd be skeptical, personally, but then I'm not a family man, and not likely t' ever be one, either." Lasher's misanthropist streak is well known, at least to his friends. There's a chuckle of understanding at the finger quotes. "Good, good. At least that frak Farad isn't giving all art students a bad name. Tell him I'm pulling for him."

Atreus nods, "Farad. Right." He says the name with a measure of distaste, then shakes his head as he reaches over to ash the cigarette into the tin. "She has always been sentimental though. Remember when we were back on the Hyp when you said she had adopted that puppy? What did she end up calling that frakker? I can't remember." He lifts the cigarette again and thinks a moment. Darting you a grin, he adds, "Just haven't met the woman who could clobber you about the head and shoulders, make you think it was a good idea and enjoy it, yet." He winks, well aware of how unlikely that eventuality is. "Oh, I'll let him know, no worries. He'll be glad to hear from you. He still refers to you as his 'crazy uncle Lash'. I understand the girlfriend is dying to meet you."

"Uh." Lasher gets an abashed look on his face, as he too has trouble remembering, evidently. "Butler, I think. Said his coloration made him look like he was wearin' a little penguin suit." He smirks. "Like night and day, us two. If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if we were really related." He gives Atreus a short, barking laugh at the woman comment. "Karin always said I was too independent to keep a woman around for long. Can't say as I could argue with that, either. Like you said, she's a smart little cookie." His tea's cooled a bit by now; Lasher takes a long pull from the mug, and chases it with another lungful of smoke. "Well. I have no idea when I'll be getting leave next, but I'll see if I can find a day or two t' drop by and satisfy the little lady's curiousity."

Atreus laughs, "Butler! Right. Gods, I'd forgotten. I remember you told her he'd be a big dog when he grew up. Cause his feet were hugs. Remember?" His smile is warm now, relaxed. "You know you are. But, I know the feeling. Remember, I've got seven sibs back home." Shaking his head, he sighs fondly, "Mom keeps pestering Chloe about when we're going to live up to the Atreus name and have a brood. But… I think we've done enough damage to future generations." He nods as he inhales a slow lungful, "Yeah… Karin's smart. But, so are you, Lash. You remember the war games on the Hyp. You kicked a ton of ass." Then, he laughs very quietly, "Shore leave?" The smoke is allowed to curl, dragon-like from his nostrils, "Not for a while, I'm sure. But, I'll let Chloe know to expect you. We've still got that guest room with your name on the door." Literally.

Laskaris snorts. "Seven. I'd forgotten, actually. You lot'd have fit right in on Aerilon. I'd've gone mad, myself." He grins at the mention of the wargames. "I did all right. Might not be able t' fly with the best of them, but I've yet to find a Viper stick that could outshoot me." It's said matter-of-factly, not with the usual braggadocio that so many Viper pilots display. Laskaris might be arrogant, but he's generally not cocky. He nods. "Well, I look forward to it. Gods know it sounds more appealing than visiting either of my parents." Lasher sighs, rolling his eyes.

Atreus looks briefly pained, "Yeah. Seven. It was… loud." He chuckles, then leans over to grind the stub of the cigarette out. "Your parents are a mess, plain and simple. Sorry, but its the truth." Shaking his head, he looks at you for a while, then smiles, "Lucky thing you've got us to take care of that 'family visit' itch." Only then does he return to the wargames, "I don't know about the flying part but yeah. Best shot I've ever seen. Keep that up, yeah? Oh, frak. I forgot. I need a schedule of the games, if you have one. I got one… Can't frakkin' find it, though."

Lasher shakes his head ruefully. "Don't apologize for tellin' the frakkin' truth, Chief. They are a godsdamned mess. You know it, I know it, half of godsdamned Aerilon knows it." In one gulp, he drains the last of the tea in his mug. "Not that I get that itch often, mind. But it's nice t' know that some people have families that aren't rife with crazy." The shooting comment gets another one of those wolfish smiles. "Three kills already in the wargames. Even if Apostolos did take me down with her, bloody rook." The remnants of his cigarette are tossed into the battered tin can as he directs another look at his watch. There's a wince. "Well, Chief… I've taken entirely too much of your time." He turns to leave, but pauses. "I've got a schedule back in berthings somewhere. I'll dig it out and make you a copy." A final nod to Atreus. "Take it easy, Chief."

Atreus chuckles, "Yeah, well. Some folk make crazy into an artform." Once your cigarette is dealt with, he takes the tin and dumps the ashes into a trashbin. The tin is tucked back into a drawer and he lifts his mug in a pseudo-salute before downing it. "Oh, hey. When you get a chance? I've got a tech named Andreas Damon. I'd like your opinion of him? I'm looking for a second here and he's got the technical skills. I want to know how he handles you lot. Follow?" Rising then, he nods, "I'd best get back to the birds. The crazy corporate software geek's software isn't going to install itself. See you, Lash. Stop by any time."

"Sure thing, Chief," Laskaris replies with a pseudo-salute of his own in return. "I'll try not t' give him back to you too chewed up, eh?" A grin. "Will do." And with that, he's out the door.

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