2237-04-22 - Raptor Plotting

Isolde, Paige, and Calliope chat while also plotting about how to go about fixing a Raptor.

Date: 2237-04-22

Location: Hangar Deck, Galactica

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 988

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Isolde has a hard time not doing everyone else's jobs. She pokes around one of the Raptors still being repaired, obviously trying to look inconspicuous as she starts to play deck mechanic. She casually pops a panel open, and starts to peek around where some of the navigation inputs are tucked away. She reaches in, threads out a diagnostics cable, and attaches it to her hefty tablet. If whistling actually helped with looking inconspicuous, she'd be doing that, but right now, her dark eyes are focused on the scroll of data that starts to fill her screen. She is at least in her ECO jumpsuit, so she looks like she's supposed to be this close to a Raptor without supervision.

Paige moves through the hanger deck with a crisp, businesslike stride that is her typical pace on duty. She angles her tread towards the Raptors, wanting to look over some logs from the last battle, only to pause as she sees Isolde sitting at one, scowling at a tablet. "Hey," she greets, Caprican accent clear. "Reviewing logs?"

Isolde jumps at the sudden voice. If she was chewing gum, she probably would have choked on it. She turns hastily to look at the Captain, unable to hide the little flutter of guilt across her face. "Ah, no... uh, sir... I, uh." Frak. "I actually was trying to see where she was in her maintenance schedule, sir. I, uh... I was the one who was with her last, and I think her nav systems are wonky." The ECO offers a guilty smile. "The deck crew is busy, and I just wanted to see if I could, maybe, uh, help."

"At ease, Ensign," Paige says gently. "We all check up on our birds like that. Though, be careful. They'll snipe at you, if they think you're messing with their side of the panels." She moves closer. "May I see?" She's got a eye for tech, herself. So, she understands the impulse. "I like to tinker on my own bird, periodically." Much to the deck crew's chagrin.

"You do?" Isolde sounds a bit surprised by that, but she does offer out the tablet. She shifts slightly, letting Paige step in closer if she wants. The Ensign offers a smile then. "I, uh... well... I used to be a Technician for the Galactica here... it was my job to look over her systems all hours of the day. Guess now the Raptors are the ones I want to keep checking up on." Beat pause. "They are a bit less complicated, actually." Then she offers a light smile. "I get in trouble by the Deck Chief a lot. I'm surprised I'm not given a chaperone every time I'm here."

Paige makes a soft noise at that - a singular chuckle, soft and centered in the back of her throat. She steps in beside Isolde and takes the tablet, looking it over. "So, you're telling me you actually have some clue what you're doing," she concludes, eyeing the Ensign sidelong. Were she a more demonstrative person, her blue eyes would be dancing with amusement. As it is, they merely glint, faintly narrowed. A beat. She nods. "That's good." Because if she didn't, Paige would drag her by the collar well away from the bird. She starts to scan the data, instead. "What did the problem feel like to you when you were in-theatre?"

"Yes, sir." Isolde beams slightly. "That's why I think Kallas agreed to me training up as an ECO... I didn't really need that much extra training beyond, well, learning how to be an Officer instead of an NCO. Until recently, I was an odd one... still a Tauron Specialist, but a Galactica Ensign. I'm kinda glad they got that sorted out." She stops rambling, and considers the actual question being posed. "Well, I think that she's off-caliber, like having a concussion. She drifts just slightly off by about one-point-five degrees. Of course, that sounds tiny, but when you're talking about a distance of one-hundred and fourteen meters, that's an entire meter and a half of difference."

Paige nods in response to Isolde's assessment. "Yes, that can completely screw your flightplan in the long run. It can also affect targetting, if you're using missiles -- or kew, if you're not using visual tracking." And who really does, right?

She stands beside Isolde, at the hatch of a Raptor, where the Ensign has plugged a tablet into the onboard flight computer. The captain now holds the tablet and starts poking through calibration logs. "We should look and see what the maintenance reports on this bird say; see if the problem's been reported before."

Calliope does not look like she's back on duty. She's in military garb, but it's a tank top and trousers only, and there's a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. Her casual stride takes her generally toward the Raptors. And Isolde and Paige, as things go.

Isolde nods in agreement. "Good practice for visual tracking, I guess... but that's got its own pitfalls." The ECO Ensign stuffs her hands into her pockets while Paige looks over the readouts. She nods in agreement. "I had thought it was a dinge... something that knocked something off-center. But, I always thought it took a lot more oomph to set something askew with Raptor navs." She looks up as Calliope approaches, and she smiles at the pilot in greeting. Maybe with Paige snooping around, Isolde is less nervous about being caught trying to play deck mechanic.

Paige nods to the Ensign's assessment. "Practice visual tracking," she suggests. "We're fighting tin cans that like to mess up network control. Doesn't usually affect a well-maintained Raptor, since we went self-contained, but it can." She's been doing this for over 10 years, now. She's definitely a lifer, and she's very, very serious about her job. "Usually takes a pretty serious hit to send us askew."

The captian glances up as Calliope's shadow draws her attention, and gives the busdriver a nod in greeting. "You flown this bird, lately, Lieutenant?" she asks without preamble, in what probably seems an entirely random question. "Or one of the others?"

Calliope returns Isolde's smile easily. If there's anything wrong with the tech-turned-ensign playing deckie, she's oblivious to it. "Hi. Asa, right? So you're officially an ensign now?" Her duffle bag is deposited somewhere out of the way and she zips over to check the roster of flights in-and-out today. "Captain Graystone." Paige is given a respectful nod, captain and all. It takes her a second to respond to 'lieutenant.' Like, that can't possibly mean hers. Oh, it does! Blink. "This one? Umm..." She pads closer. "Not lately, I don't think. I'm usually in my luxury liner over there." She says it wryly, pointing to an identical Raptor not far down. "Though with the way the ships run, sometimes you get what you get. What's up with it?"

"No longer being beta-tested," Isolde offers to Calliope. She even offers a brightening smile at that. She rolls her hands around inside her pockets, maybe even gripping some tidbits within them. When Paige suggests some skill focus, Isolde nods agreeably. "Right, so... convince whichever pilot I'm assigned to next -- " Alas for not having a consistent partner yet. Welcome to being at the bottom of the ladder, kid. " -- to let me practice some visual targetting." She dimples slightly. Then she looks to Cal again. "It's got some skewing in its nav, causing drift. Very minimal, but space is really big, so small becomes massive pretty fast."

Paige nods in response to Isolde's explanation and gestures to her lightly. "That," she says to Calliope, letting that explanation stand. "It's probably just a calibration error, but we should likely run a diagnostic." A beat. "Or ask the deck crew to do that." She glances between the two women, almost conspiratorially. "My preference is to run our own, then make them run theirs, and compare results."

"It still hasn't stopped feeling weird when people call me 'sir'," Calliope admits to Isole. "I mean, you've been military longer than me, so maybe it won't be weird for you. Congrats. Gods know we need more backseaters out there. My ECO has saved me from myself like loads of times." Should she be admitting that in front of Paige? She blushes slight and says no more about it. "I'll fly with you anytime. Well, except today. I'm due for more leave time, but I wanted to check the schedule before I got off-ship again."

"We should probably ask the deck crew," Isolde offers, but then pauses with a wry smile to Paige. She then starts to nod in agreement. "I mean, it is always good to have multiple data points." She looks to Calliope, perhaps getting the woman unwittingly rolled into a Raptor crew conspiracy. All in good fun, of course. Then again, a little professional competition was never a bad thing... then she grins to Calliope. "Yeah, I'm still trying to convince Newton to put in for leave. Guy's in desperate need of a break. I think our evac from Canceron reminded him too much of Triton."

"You get used to it," Paige assures both kindly. "It just takes a while." Unless, of course, they're the sort to demand such respect. That's not her read on them, however. And she actually isn't inclined to stand on much ceremony while they're problem-solving, anyway. "Me? I'm more interested in results than strict protocol." A beat. A hint of a smile. "Unless, of course, the latter gains the former." Yeah, she's used that club before. She passes the tablet back to Isolde. "Well, ensign. It was your idea to poke around here, in the first place. "You can do the honours.

Calliope's grin quirks at Isolde. She is up for any Raptor-related conspiracies. "I figure I'd better get in as much as I can now. The Timber Wolves sound hardcore. I mean, not that it isn't hardcore on the Galactica, but I don't really know what to expect. I felt like I was just getting used to things here." She keeps back, not getting in the way of Isolde's work on the Raptor. Though, from how she watches it, she's interested in the results. "Do you think it'll be much different than our previous ops, sir?" she asks Paige.

Isolde offers Paige a dimpled grin before she nods, and takes back the tablet. Dropping into a kneel, she starts to tap into the various programs on the tablet before she finds the one she's looking for: Raptor Navigation Diagnostics. She taps it, keys in some kind of code, and then sets back on her heels while the data starts scrolling again. "About fifteen minutes," she tells Paige before she looks up to Calliope again and then to Paige, silently seconding the question.

Paige 's mouth twists wryly, almost a smile. "I really don't know," she admits. "I served in the ICJPK before the CF and saw a good bit of action there. But, special forces are a different breed altogether. And we'll be learning on the job. Not ideal." She's concerned, but not worried. "That said, given our size, it does mean we're less likely to see a frontline broil and more likely to be sent on sabotage, reconnaissance, and diversions. But that's just my speculation. I could be wrong. Who knows what the top brass thinks?"

Calliope considers that, idly reaching up to spin a strand of blonde hair around one finger. "Guerilla stuff. Maybe like we had to do on Canceron after the base got evacuated." She does not sound entirely enthusiastic about this. But she tries not to show it too much in front of the senior officer. "Right. Well. I'll be as ready as I can. Tell Newton he is, like, ordered to take advantage of shore leave when you see him next, Asa." Pause. "I mean, he still outranks me, but you get the idea. That guy always looks like he needs to unwind like wow."

Isolde wrinkles her nose. "I hope that this means we can actually do something... take the offensive for once. Feels like we've been responding to threats this entire war." She shakes her head ruefully before she starts to laugh at Calliope's observation of Van. "Yeah, well... he's not shaved his head again, so we're in smooth sailing for now. I've got him putting in a two-day pass, so he could maybe sleep in something that isn't a hospital bed, cot, or bunk." Then she resumes looking at the scroll of data, not that she can track as quick as it flies by, but it has the same quality of watching rain on a window for Isolde. What a weirdo.

Paige leans against the hatch, now, arms folding lightly over her chest. "Sounds like he needs a visit to the chaplain, or one of the shrinks," she says, not unkindly. She's seen enough action herself to know. "Some things, you just shouldn't keep bottled up, even if your pride or privacy says otherwise." Yep. Voice of experience. She glances to Isolde as the younger woman becomes absorbed in data staring. She's done that, too, though she suspects Isolde is better at it than she. Which is fine by her.

Calliope leans in slight as Isolde begins to track her data. Blue eyes scanning it. Not that she can make much of anything of it, fast or slow. The recommendation from Paige just earns a blink, and she studiously does not comment on anyone else's mental state. "Offensive. Right. I mean, that sounds like the plan. A unit who can do more to get the toasters off-balance. Much as you can unbalance a toaster."

Isolde frowns at Paige's observation, taking in a deep breath and saying mostly under the exhale, "Maybe you're right." She glances up to Paige and offers a slight nod before she looks back to the data scroll. She snorts a bit at Calliope's observation. "I dunno... I was working with the Tauron Military when we got our first shipment in of Centurions. I remember being told I could not get within a hundred feet of their code. No one could. They really are a mystery." She realizes belatedly she is within arm’s reach of a Greystone relative, so she kind of shrinks back down over her tablet.

"Let's hope my uncle was wrong about that," Paige says dryly. She gives a mild shrug. "He told me I couldn't get within 100 kilometers, so don't feel bad." In other words, she's not going worry about what other people say about her family. They're no longer her problem, most of them being dead, as they are. She purses her lips. "Maybe we should fix that, eh?"

Calliope does, of course, glance at Paige when the mystery of the Cylons is mentioned. But it's an involuntary stare, not really questioning, and she quickly averts her eyes. They flit toward a Raptor that's being loaded for transport. "I think that's my lift. I'll be interested to see what's up with this Raptor when I'm on ship again, Asa. All those malfunctions when we were fighting on Tauron make me kind of freak whenever there's even a random unusual reading." Quick nod to Paige. "Later, sir." And off she goes.

Asa gives Calliope a passing nod. "Enjoy leave, Drake!" She calls after her, and then looks back up at Paige. "Do you get that a lot, sir? The association with you and the whole... well... everything." She tightens her mouth. "My dad was one of the biggest supporters for the Cylon integration. His name is on several of the documents. Comes up a lot... that he made a choice that caused the Taurons so much pain." She looks away. "Even if I think most of that is self-reflective."

"Mm," Paige says, not unsympathetically. "Often enough," she concedes. "I suspect you're lucky your name comes only from a paper-signer on Tauron and not the man who gave his name to the whole lot. But, I've learned to ignore it." It helps that she has a record that proves her skill over and over again. She gives Drake a wave, however, as the Lieutenant retreats. A beat. "I was on Caprica when the uprising started." And everything unsaid in that statement is probably imaginable to the Tauron.

Calliope escapes the conversation justin time for any talk of the uprising on Caprica. Unclear if it's intentional. Though there is a long, if hard to read for generally expressive Cal, look back towards Paige before she boards her Raptor.

Isolde looks up at Paige again, and her mouth tightens. She gives a slow nod of understanding to the unsaid things, and she looks back down at her tablet. "Caprica City was hit hard," she intones, but also leaves that empty space filled with everywhere else that was hit hard. "I want to know something, though." She shakes her head. "How are they reproducing?" She looks at Paige again. "They don't seem to mind how many of them go down, so that tells me they might have more resources than we're ready to accept... right?"

Paige cants her head at that. And then nods slowly. "That would be reasonable, yes," she concedes. Again, that thoughtful purse of her lips. "I suspect -- not that I'm sure, mind -- that the Cylons planned this long before the initial uprising. They were programmed to be logical, after all, as well as with tactics and strategy; the military models, at least. So, I believe there must be supply lines out there providing them with resources." Her eyes narrowed. "Maybe we should speak with the CAG about sweep patrols to start looking for evidence of that."

Isolde begins to nod in agreement. "That's what I think is where we can actually do damage... we need to slow their production of Centurions, if that's what they are doing, or find where they are... storing... themselves." That is an awkward sentence, but the ding of her tablet distracts her. She stands, looking over the data. "Huh. Looks like we've got something up with the gyrosphere. The ship is basically off-balance." She hands Paige the tablet to look over. "Should probably suggest the deck crew look into that."

Paige takes the tablet from Isolde and looks at it. "Mm-hmm," she agrees. "Looks like. Could just need a swap out. I'll put an order in for you." 'Captain' carries more weight than 'Ensign', after all. She moves to sit on the edge of the bird, next to the Ensign. "Look, if you need a leg up with these birds, you let me know. I like how you think; we need ECOs who know how to think, not just blokes who echo what the computer tells them." A beat. She actually gives a smile, wry as it is. "Besides, I think you're on to something about the Cylons. Maybe we can work on creating some algorithms for the Raptors that'll help us track the tincans back to... wherever it is they hide."

Isolde brightens a bit at Paige's encouragements, and she nods. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate the confidence." The use of the words algorithms has the former technician almost grinning ear to ear. "I do like algorithms, sir." Then she takes back the tablet so she can unhook. "I think I'm going to go find Newton and talk to him about seeing Chaplain Kavanagh. Might be good for him to speak to someone. And also making sure he's got in that leave request."

Paige pushes to her feet, nodding. "Sounds like a solid plan," she says. She steps back, to give the ensign room to maneuver. "Good hunting, ensign." Another of those thoughtful beats. "And, so you know, my call sign is 'Princess'." A dry smile and a mild shrug. "You can guess why, I'm sure." Then, "Look me up, when you need."

Isolde starts to laugh, but doesn't get too far before all she does is smile. "Don't have one of those, yet. I'm sure it is only a matter of time." Then she offers another nod of thanks, and the Ensign starts to step away so she can find Newton -- and maybe a deck crew to casually suggest looking at the gyrosphere.


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