PHD #069: What We Make Ourselves
What We Make Ourselves
Summary: Quinn and Cidra have an honest conversation.
Date: 06 May 2041 AE
Related Logs: FAQ About Electricity
Players:
Quinn Cidra 
Pilot Berths - Naval Deck - Battlestar Cerberus
The battlestar's pilots call this place home. Bunks line the walls with grey curtains to cover their sleeping areas. Lockers sit between each pair of bunks and a round metal table sits in the center, furnished with simple but comfortable steel chairs. A hatch at the rear of the room leads to a communal head.
Post-Holocaust Day: #69

Quinn knows she should write, but getting the soot off of her suit and showering out the aches which are forming in her muscles from that concussive blow is enough that her report can be put off an hour. Maggie's just back from the rather failed mission and steps into the hatch, her suit's front more black than it is the usual tarnished gold… she's walking sorely, but still walkign at least, as she heads for her locker and slips her helmet inside automatically..

Cidra is in her bunk. The curtain's closed at the moment. Well, mostly. It's ajar enough that cigarette smoke can be seen drifting out of it. She doesn't want to asphyxiate herself in there, after all. The sound of someone else entering the bunks makes her nudge it open a notch. And roll over to eye Quinn. Cidra, for her part, is in her off-duties. Laying on her stomach, some manner of paperwork or other doubling as her bed-time reading. "Rough go, then?" she asks simply.

Quinn looks up towards Cidra, shaking her head slowly…"Power lines blew out and our back thrusters blew out because of it… or vice versa. We nearly barrelled head first into the Eidilon…" Maggie mutters, a bit of angry frustration in her voice at a mission gone down poorly. She slowly begins unstrapping her dirty suit, definitely aching with each motion but she gets through them steadily enough.

"Power lines blew." Cidra bites it off flatly, almost like she's swearing. Deep breath. She straightens out of her bunk, hands on hips, stretching. There's some audible cracking of joints as she does so. The CAG is not a young woman. "Not a week after Shiv's Viper nearly blew up out from under him. Power lines, explosions, targeting mix-ups…It is getting to look like more than technical problems. Though we are running those birds ragged. So who frakking knows…" Said softly, but it's one of those fair few occasions the woman indulges in profanity. "Are you and the others aboard all right?"

Quinn nods quietly, "I'm just bruised up… Kahuna got himself a concussion because he was right next to the thing when it happened. It could have been a lot, lot worse… but yes. I don't think this is simple concidence or wear and tear any more." Maggie states flatly, a bit of protective anger in her voice which brings that hidden lilt out all the more. She continues peeling out of her suit, frowning down to it…"gonna have ta clean this up…"

Cidra catches the lilt in Quinn's voice. For a moment, blue eyes fix on the other woman. Hard to read a particular expression in them, as it ever is with the woman. But they're weighing in that way of hers for a beat. But she merely clears her throat and says, "That is for the good, at least. That none were seriously harmed. The Raptor was returned to the ship as well? Again, that is something to the good. We aim to get more craft from Leonis, but it shall be a dangerous thing."

Quinn nods in affirmation, "Yeah, we got towed in…" She then looks up towards Cidra, catching that thoughtful look, "Something on your mind, Sir?" Maggie prompts rather strongly, her mood not really allowing for subtle at the moment. She finally gets all the way out of her boots and suit, folding it up so the soot is on the inside and rolling it up to stick in her locker. She'll clean it in the morning.

Cidra regards Quinn a bit longer, then sighs, shaking her head. "I suppose not, Maggie." Her own Gemenese lilt is more tired than anything else. She lets it lie at that. The use of the pilot's first name is fleeting, and her manner returns to professional briskly enough. "I saw you had put in for Leonis. That is for the good, you've more experience with ground operations in potential combat situations than most. I would like you to take the lead of the aerial personnel down there. Defer to Captains Sitka and Laskaris in matters specific to Viper tactics, of course, but see that all keep it together and serve the missions overall commanders from Tactical to the best of our abilities.

Quinn studies her boss quietly for a moment…"Sure, whatever you need… but, Cidra…" Since the woman started with the first names, she's pulling back to not quite professional, her uniform so off and duty far over now…"Only if you tell me what -is- actually on your mind. What's up?" She murmurs gently, leaning against the woman's bunk for the moment.

Cidra crosses her arms along her chest, regarding Quinn again. Though, as ever, what's going on behind her eyes is hard to decipher. She takes in but gives very little of herself. Though there's a slight lowering of that personal wall just now. Very slight. It's tentative. "It is not my business," she says softly. "Most times you speak as a Caprican. Other times…you do not. But we've all a right to make of ourselves what we will. I will see whoever you wish me to see."

Quinn frowns slightly…"You're my CAG…it is your business… and I suspect very strongly you've seen my personelle jacket… that should answer that question…" Maggie states simply, though there is now indeed a good touch of discomfort in her voice. She's been doing a lot of rethinking about her whole heritage thing but for lack of decisions…she's stuck to the status quo..

"I have made a study of the personnel files of all my squad leaders in great detail," Cidra affirms softly. A little nod. She lays it out as simply as that. "As I said. It is not of my business. I understand why you did it, I suppose. I was the only Gemenese officer in my flight training class. It is a…difficult way to come up."

Quinn frowns a bit more, finally just sinking down onto the edge of her bunk which is really rather near to Cidra's, so the conversation can still continue comfortably…"Yes. And I was young… and very alone… off planet for the first time ever… barely treading water to keep up with all this technology I'd never seen in my life… I was already such an outcast. Totally disrespected. I thought I'd never be an officer… so… I changed. Became a new person… and… you tell one lie, they just keep snowballing." Maggie admits quietly, staring down at her hands. Calloused, working hands, a farm girl's hands… "How do you tell a squad you've lied to them since they've know you?"

Cidra hesitates a moment, then sits next to Quinn. Taking the invitation to converse a little more privately. She doesn't answer that last question. She can't really. "I had never been off-planet before I joined the Fleet," she says softly, for her part. "I was twenty-one years old. A gawky, shy girl who had thought I'd spend my days seminary not a year before. Life off world was so…alien. I fit in nowhere. The first ECO I was assigned refused to fly with me. A Gemenese fanatic." Even now, she says it with no small trace of bitterness.

Quinn nods slowly, but there is almost immediate, intense understanding on her features. Yes. That's what it was like. "I was 18…" Quinn admits. Half her lifetime ago, signed up the moment the military would take her… She rest her elbows on her knees quietly, slightly leaning forward over her sore ribs, but the bruising isn't all that bad.

"I used to say a prayer to the goddess Athena before I launched. To myself. Comms off. I saw no harm in it. I stopped doing so aloud after that," Cidra says. "My Gemenon was…imperfect. Had I not thought it so I likely would not have left. Few do. But I wonder how much of that young girl I shed. It was never enough to fit with the Caprican heirs or Picon admiral's sons, of course. I always felt I fit imperfectly." She sounds unsure whether to sound proud of that or not. "Well. I am what I am and what I've made myself. I hope the balance is not too warped." A little rueful, that.

Quinn gives a faint half smile, "At least you stayed yourself… you… you tried to embrace it. To change.. adapt… but stay yourself. I just left it behind. I wanted to fit in with the Caprican heirs and the admiral's sons… so I did. I became them. Left everything else off." Maggie shakes her head faintly, a touch of self anger crossing her face…"Frak, -Kal- saw my family more recently than I did… because he was willing to go back, touch base… I… I didn't even go for my father's funeral. How could I explain running off to Aerilon?" She sounds disgusted with herself..

"We have all of us our sins, Maggie," Cidra says. Again, tone very soft. And thoughts still clearly as much inward on herself as on Quinn. "There were times in my life when I was not so true to myself. I…" She trails off. "Well. I have made my penance. Or tried to. I try to sort it out with the gods and within myself. That is all one can do. Forgiveness from others, even the gods, is not so hard to earn. Most give it more freely than we give it to ourselves. I have not quite figured out that part of it yet."

Quinn nods faintly, "Yes… perhaps. We… we'll get through Leonis and I'll just see if it's an issue after that…" Maggie states with a grim little smirk, but the joke really doesn't come off all that while. She reaches over, giving her boss' arm a quiet squeeze. "Sorry to get you all… thinking tonight. didn't mean to derail this sort of conversation."

Cidra is a little surprised at the touch. She doesn't pull away from it, however, but lifts her hand to clasp Quinn's briefly. The apology is shrugged off, though she says nothing for a moment. And, when she does speak again, it is on an entirely different note. "I was telling Ibrahim once…" She's all of first names tonight. That one seemed used quite unconsciously. "…that I considered it a good omen to have a Sagittaron in him and one of Aerilon in Captain Laskaris among my squadron leaders. I include you in that as well. It almost makes me laugh. And I still think it a good omen, somehow."

Quinn gives a half smile, "Perhaps, sir… Perhaps. I hope at least." She then moves to stand but, really… she hurts. Sitting wasn't the best idea. "…Permission to write my AAR in the morning, sir? I just want to… curl into sleep. And Trask wants to give me a run down on what went wrong exactly to be included anyway…" She's definitely ready for bed, already slightly sinking to the side into her pillow.

"We remain. There is hope in that. The rest…you look too hard, I suppose you'll see signs everywhere," Cidra says, standing and leaving Quinn to her bunk. "Permission granted. I will be most interested to see that myself. It is yet more fearful strange." And perhaps a not-so-good omen. Though she dwells not on that aloud. "Sleep well." And off she goes.

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