2236-12-03 - Candy and Conspiracies

After one of the latest engagements, Kallas, Eva, and Niemec dig into emergency rations and later, plans for future adventures are discussed.

Date: 2236-12-03

Location: Catwalk, Hangar Deck, //Galactica//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 903

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Eva has managed to run the deck gauntlet and come out with all of her limbs intact. Not that the deck are going to let her get away scot-free. At the moment, she's standing at the railing of the catwalk, looking down at the crew that's working on the vipers that have just come back, trying to get them flight ready. She's still in her flight suit, but she brought her emergency ration bag with her from the cockpit. Not that the bag is strictly regulation, or that she could even use it, as her suit is pressurized when she's flying, but it helps to know it's there. At the moment, she's rummaging around the assortment of goodies she has in there.

Having completed all the rigmarole that accompanies the ships' return to Galactica, Kallas wanders up onto the catwalk to survey the deck. He takes up a spot near Eva, leaning his elbows on the railing. He's still got his flightsuit on, but the top is unzipped and down, the arms tied around his waist. "Survived the Chief, I see."

Eva catches the movement in her peripheral vision, and lifts a hand out of the bag in a sort of, 'I got it' victory handraising. It looks to be a raspberry fruity oaty bar. Once Kallas settles beside her, she offers over the bag, which has a number of different flavour fuity oaty bars, candy bars, caramels, and hard candies all rolling around in there. "I barely made it out with my scalp intact. I get shot up one time," here Eva holds up a finger for emphasis, "ONE time, and she gives me the face." You know the one.

"I know that look," Kallas says with a knowing chuckle. He peers at the bag. "What d'you got in there, anyway? Huh." He reaches in to grab a caramel. "Don't pass that around too much - you'll put the whole squadron into sugar shock," he jokes, unwrapping the candy.

"Well, I try not to." Eva shakes the bag, once you pick a treat, and tucks the loop of it into her belt, "These are my emergency rations. On the off-chance that I get shot down or shot up and I might be a while being rescued. I thought about putting real rations in there, but then I thought, if I'm going to die, I'm going to die happy, not worrying about my fat or cholesterol intake."

"I don't blame you. Have you actually eaten those rations? Almost rather starve. Almost," Kallas clarifies. "Seen much action back on Virgon?" he wonders.

"Yes. I tried one on a dare once. It tasted like eggs and lemon soda." Eva takes a moment, chewing her bite, before she nods, "Yes, and no. We had a large number of cylons at the uprising, but very few soldiers, so a lot of it was strafing runs in the cities. I was on the Lykos, with the Hell Hounds, and we saw some action above Virgon, but mostly it was like what we're doing here. I suppose I should be thankful for that. Before the cylons, action on Virgon would have more properly been called killing other Hibernians." A lift of her shoulders, "Before that, we were supporting the royalist efforts on Sagittaron."

"Eggs and lemon soda. That sounds horrifying," Kallas says in mock-horror. He and Eva are chatting on the catwalk not long after returning from a mission. "I suppose that's progress in a way," he says of the action on Virgon.

Eva nods, still leaning against the railing, watching the deck crew working below, "Well, our good King Kaeso has pretty much everyone on the surface of Virgon under his thumbs. And, whatever the party line might be, I think the only reason we didn't have more cylons in the military is because the Crown couldn't afford it." She looks over at Kallas, "Have you ever had to do that? Kill your own people?"

It was one of Niemec's 'off' shifts when the call to the mission went out. The woman is soon enough going to find herself on the hook for Alert, but for now she's just hovering around the hangar itself. To stay off the deck and away from fussy deckies, the Captain has opted to make her way up on the catwalk. Gives her a good view, but doesn't get her fussed at by the orange-suit-wearers. She's already in her own flight suit, though it isn't wholly zipped. It doesn't take long to notice Eva and Kallas on the 'walk and Antonie picks up her pace to intercept them.

Kallas shakes his head. "No, thankfully. Got out of Scorpia before I was ever put in that position." He looks over when Niemec approaches, bobbing his head in greeting. "Squeak."

"Would you have refused if you had?" It's a hard question to ask, but it's a reality quite a number of the people on Galactica have had to face. Eva turns her head, at the sound of bootfalls on the stairs, a grin brightening her expression, "Antonie, just the Tauron we were looking for." Eva finishes her fruity oaty bar, crumpling the wrapper into a pocket, "Smackdown here, has suggested we all get squadron tattoos."

"Sir," Antonio greets Kallas with a brief smile before coming to a stop by the railing. She leans a bit against it; positioning herself with a view of the people below as well as the two other pilots. She does raise a brow at Eva, looking from the redhead to the CAG. "Is that so? Do we have a tattoo artist on board or are we waiting for some leave?" It's not as if the Tauran herself is lacking in her own ink... though she's not 'covered' in it, at least.

"Probably not," Kallas answers with grim honesty. "Sooner or later everyone ends up picking a side back there." The mention of the tattoos helps him shake off the gloom enough to chuckle. "There might be one. I never asked." Another pilot comes hurrying up the catwalk steps, an urgent look of worry about him. "That can't be good," Kallas grumbles.

"Virgon too," Eva offers. Of course, given that she's with the VRN, what does that say about her. "I have no idea. I should probably ask around. That or we go with jail house tattoos. Sewing needles and pointy sticks and ink made from paper ash." Eva turns, as the bearer of bad news arrives, "You know what you need, sir? More minions." The better to foist off work. Eva, for her part, untucks her emergency rations bag from her belt and offers it to Niemec.

"I never even bothered to try," Niemec admits, of tattooing. "Not an artistic bone in my body." She looks over to Eva at the offer, eyebrows rising. The pouch is accepted with a flashed grin to the Viper jock. "Thank you." She digs out a caramel and offers the pouch back before unwrapping the candy. The woman does shift aside, letting the other pilot approach.

Kallas gives Eva a wary look. "I'll wait for shore leave, thanks." Then he flashes a grin. "More minions? Already got all you fine folks. What is it, Lieutenant," he asks the JG who came hunting for him in such a hurry.

"Sir, we just got a report - Raptor Bravo One Three crashed into the lake."

Kallas blinks. "Into the lake?"

"Yes sir. Kanga's flight is providing overwatch, and they've diverted another Raptor to go pick up the crew."

"I'll take a proper bone needle and ink, at least, thank you. I've seen what can happen with jail house tattoos." First hand. Probably of others in the mafia, in all her adjacent 'member because dad and grandad' glory. Niemec does look up to listen to the report given. Her eyes widen marginally at word of the crash. "Was it shot down?"

Eva waggles her brows at Kallas, a grin to Niemec, before she reclaims her bag, and returns to rummaging in it. Clearly she needs more sustenance. "You know any good bone and ink men up here?" A nod to Kallas, "Minions to foist your CAG responsibilities off on." Innocent as can be. She pauses mid-grab, at the announcement from the Lieutenant, "I'm ready to go." She they already have alert viper pilots assigned, but she's still in her flight suit and all.

The JG shakes his head to Niemec. "Don't know, sir."

Kallas frowns, and glances at the other two pilots. "You two be on standby on the deck. I'm going to go find out if they need us. You, come with me." That last bit was to the JG, who now has the (mis)fortune of being the CAG's runner.

"Not on board, no. On Tauron? Sure." Niemec flashes a smile that edges on smirk at Eva before looking to Kallas and the poor runner-jig. Her brow furrows, but she gives a quick nod at the orders given. "Aye, sir." She watches the two go off, leaning on the railing to look down at the hangar proper. And her Raptor, already waiting. The caramel is long since finished, but she's not grabbing for another. "I don't know why, but it... seems more messy than I expected and I'm not even sure what I expected."

"Maybe that should be our next goal. Kill enough Cylons to earn leave time on Tauron." Once again, Eva tucks the bag into her belt, though she does keep one hard candy in hand, "Yes, sir." She settles in for the wait. Her own Viper is already on the high lift and is not going to be ready any time soon. Thankfully, the ship has, for now, plenty of spares. "Because we're fighting a war of attrition. If we were fighting humans, eventually one side or the other would win, and there would be an end in sight. This...they can send them at us indefinitely. So all they have to do is put out enough effort to pick us off one at a time. Because eventually, there won't be enough of us old enough to put up a fight." Humans, after all, need at least seventeen, eighteen years before they can become cannon-fodder. "They're playing the long game."

"Well," Niemec doesn't immediately finish the statement. She just lets the single word hang there before shifting a bit nearer Eva. Maybe so there's no need to speak more loudly. Maybe other reasons. The Raptor pilot just settles in, staring out over the hangar. Of the people milling about. Working, boarding or disembarking. "I suppose that's true. But they still have to manufacture themselves. Why aren't we finding where they're doing that and bombing the damn places?"

Eva looks over, as Niemec approaches, leaning in close enough to touch the other pilot's shoulder and upper arm with her own. She looks down at her hands, slowly untwisting the wrapper around the candy. It's one of those, 'every grandmother has them in a candy bowl' ones, strawberry with the gooey filling center. "Maybe they haven't thought that far ahead. You know how war can be. We get so caught up in managing what's going on on the front lines, we can't think past that." She looks over at Niemec, studying the tauron woman's face, "Or maybe we can't find it. I mean, where they hell did they build those basestars? There's not a single colony they hold enough ground on to hide that sort of operation."

The last put forth by Eva earns a sigh from Niemec. One of those rushed things that leaves her shoulders slumped. "And that's why I'm only a Captain," she offers, even if she's not quite old enough to have 'missed out' on a promotion. Yet. "I didn't even think of that. Frak, those basestars. Where did they make those?" She glances towards her Raptor again, tutting faintly. "I'd almost like to ask about getting assigned a recon mission. Try to suss out where they're building all their shit. But I doubt it'd be a quick enough trip for a Raptor to handle."

"I'm just a Captain too. It's not that, don't worry." Eva bodychecks Niemec, before she pops the candy into her mouth. The wrapper, once again, gets squirreled away into her pocket. She's not about to start littering on the deck. Bad enough she let her viper get shot up. Littering too and she really might lose a limb. "I think a recon mission sounds like a great idea. I mean, frak, what the hell are we on this ship for, if not to do what the rest of the colonies can't?" She considers, looking back down to the deck, "We couldn't take the Galactica, but a smaller ship? A Heavy cruiser would be best, although we'd be shit for launch tubes, if we needed vipers," as the cruisers don't have them, "The LCV would be too large. But we could use our landing clamps, attach to the hull of the cruiser. Of course, refueling would be a bitch." The raptors, no problem, as the cruisers carry them routinely.

Leaning with the check, Niemec recovers from it and sort of slings her arm, in turn, around Eva's midsection. It's not tight, but if the Viper stick allows, it is a companionable gesture. Part hug, part hold. "Some cruisers have a small compliment of Vipers," she notes in a quiet voice, looking out over the deck. "Couldn't launch as fast, no, but if it was a fast enough ship... Focus on recon. Trouble shows up, you'd just need to fend it off long enough to prime the jump drive. Some of those cruisers have flak cannons enough to do that." Antonie makes a thoughtful sound, jaw tightening briefly. "Think I should bring it up to the CAG?"

Having freed her hands from the candy death grip, Eva slips one arm around Niemec's waist, an easy, companionable gesture, in return. "Sure. Plan a good firing solution that can keep enemies at bay long enough for the Vipers to get off the desk and into combat and it might work. Maybe even make it so that we wouldn't need to launch at all. If all we're doing is long distance scanning, we might be able to get away clean. The trick, is going to be trying to a: find one that isn't actively shooting at us, b: getting close enough to track where it's going, which is going to be tough since they can FTL out of wherever they are, and c: keep track of it long enough to get back to its home base." She ponders, considering, "I mean, I have some ideas for how we could do most of that, but getting close enough to a basestar without being blown to hell, is going to be the hard part."

"One way would be a radio. Tweak it enough for a single transmission. If it's only goal is to transmit out... it could probably be tweaked to be longer range. Not as likely to be noticed, I'd think." Since radio bands aren't computers themselves. Just some of the things that utilize them. Niemec takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Well, we can tell the CAG... or wait and see if the Admiral has any more of those dinners. Maybe if things on Tauron clear up, a mission could be done. Just recon. Gather intel, bring it back." She's about to say more, but the jig from earlier returns.

Poor guy looks a bit breathless and barely casts eyes over the two Captains. "Occupants of the downed Raptor have been picked up and are being brought back. No losses, but some injuries. Mostly hypothermia from the sounds of it." And then he's off again - likely to inform others of the same news. Antonie lets out another sigh, but this one is less frustrated. "Well, that's good. We don't need any more deaths."

"See? This is precisely why you're a Captain, Antonie. You're such a practical thinker." Of course it helps that Niemec's job is pretty much to scan and monitor and radio and all those other stealthy, non-combaty things. Eva tightens her hold on Niemec briefly, "My plan was to highjack a Mk. 1, without letting its cylon pilot send a message back to the base star, figure out how to send a 'friendly' message with its transponder so we wouldn't get shot down, fly it in, clamp to the hull of the basestar and follow it along till it got to wherever it was going. Brilliant really." And completely suicidal. A nod at the JiG, though he doesn't stick around long enough to see it. "No more deaths, but I do need a shower." A curl of her lips into a smile at the Tauran woman, "You can help."

"Have you been watching those action flicks they have in the rec room?" Antonie's voice takes on a teasing tone. "Last I checked, none of us had the proper jaw for an action hero." She grins, squeezing Eva in return. "Not a terrible plan, but we'd need to figure out what the friendly message would be. Might ask around the ECOs for that. Bet it could be used to mask a radio if we managed to plant one, too." Her brow does arch a bit at the last, but the considering gaze is barely held before her lips twitch upward and break it. Nope, she couldn't even fake stern. "You just want me to help you frighten poor Ensigns." But she does lean back a step. As if ready to depart the catwalks. "Lucky for you, I find it good sport."

"Now, while I like my plan for its flash and daring-do, yours is probably the most manageable, and I think doable. We could enlist the ECOs as well as any of the computer techs on board that have specific experience with masking radio signals and could potentially work with cylon systems. I mean, cyber operations is where I'm trained, but I'd still need a better handle on how the Cylon network, security, communications, and tech works, before I could do anything with it. And I'd need ramp up time." Even when you keep up with on the major you studied at the Academy, as a combat-oriented member of an air-wing, you spend more time flying than anything else. "I think we should definitely approach Kallas about it. I think he knows the score well enough to give the idea a fair shake. The whole point is to try to win the war." Eva turns, arm sliding from around Niemec's waist, but she manages to catch one of the other woman's hands, "If they didn't send us so many Ensigns, this wouldn't be a problem." She starts off, to head back down along the stairs to the deck below.

"Can't say I know much about masking radio signals beyond the basics. Mostly that short-wave is best, but... we'd need long-wave for this. Something like the backpack kit the marines carry." Being a Raptor pilot, Niemec would be fairly familiar with those. Gotta pick up the JTAC signals when they go up, after all. She curls her fingers into Eva's, allowing the other pilot to lead the way. "But I bet someone does. There's gotta be an ECO out there who has an especial focus in counter-measures." She's mulling the idea over, letting it roll around, but there is a grin in regards to the Ensigns. "Gotta break them in somehow, yes."


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