2237-07-23 - Squirrel Or Chicken

Marines and Pilots ponder their temporary home, and most are in bad moods.

Date: 2237-07-23

Location: Biscayne Hangar

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 311

Jump to End

It's been a crazy couple of days. Yesterday, Aubrey and Alain went and found her father, injured but recovering in a nearby hospital, then they got to pick up and fly back some brand-new Vipers, only to learn today, those birds are now going to have their names on them. The good and the bad were very mixed.

Today, Aubrey is lying on her assigned cot, in a tank top and sweats donated by the Picon Navy, reading a magazine purchased from one of the newsstands in the terminal. It's strange to be living in this space, where there are civilians running about in the terminals, and not being surrounded by the comforting walls of the Vanguard. Food court meals are a far cry from the Mess Hall, the showers here blow chunks, and no one has even the slight privacy of the curtains on their shipboard racks.

It is pretty terrible living conditions. But for some, they've seen and experienced worse. At the moment, one of those is currently.. not on the ground. As Aubrey is flipping through her magazine, if she's a perceptive sort, there's a lone figure that is moving through the steel beam and construction of the roof of the hangar, and making use of it as a makeshift area to exercise and explore.

The magazine tilts down at the sound of noise overhead, and Aubrey peers up into the rafters. "What in the name of the 12 Lords of Kobol are you doing?" she calls up to whomever is playing circus acrobat.

<FS3> Lanval rolls Climbing+Reflexes: Success (8 6 5 3 3 1)

Not realizing he had been noticed, Lanval pauses and blinks down at the figure on the cart, and takes a moment to consider her. Resting back on his laurels in a hunched position, he holds tightly to the beam he's on. "Exercising." comes the response finally in the form of a quiet Leonese accent. "Was out on the roof, getting my bearings." If anything, he seems comfortable, at least if he's talking.

Crazy damned Marines. Aubrey shakes her head and closes the magazine, still looking up at the nutcase in the rafters. "Did you bother thinking what would happen if you fell? Like crushing me?" Or anyone else.

There's a long glance to the floor. "Fifty feet. Concrete floor. If I fall, I die." he shrugs his shoulders. "So, I won't fall." he points out, before gesturing towards a ladder hanging down for maintenance purposes. "Welcome to join me."

"I just got a brand new bird with my name stenciled on it. I'm not going to get myself killed pretending I'm some kind of deranged squirrel," Aubrey points out. She is not a climber. A surfer sure. But when you hit the water, it isn't 50 feet below you and made of concrete.

There's another shrug of his shoulders before he considers her. "Better a squirrel than a chicken." he points out, perhaps rising to her remark with his own little poke at her as he moves to swing a little from one of the beams. "Seems that a lot of people make assumptions once they have rank. Without bothering to ever ask." with that, he climbs up a little higher into the rafters, reaching around in one of the pouches of the garb he's wearing and takes out .. a can of spray paint. There's the familiar clatter of ball bearing rattling within the can before he starts to spray, using a handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth.

"There's a great big gap between being afraid, and being stupid. Not afraid, just not dumb as belly button lint," Aubrey ripostes. She arches a brow at the spray paint. "Pretty sure if Gunny Mercer comes in here and sees you, you'll be cleaning the Head with your toothbrush for a month."

"So, I'm deranged and dumb as belly button lint. Anything else, sir?" Lanval asks as he sprays for a few more moments. "Then I'll be cleaning the Head for a month, especially if you tell." There's a thoughtful pause. "Just want to make sure someone knows I was here. That we were here." With that, he continues his work.

Aubrey props herself up on her elbows behind her, so she can squint up at whatever it is he's painting. "Pretty sure everyone knows we were here. And stop calling me sir. We don't bother with that crap in the Wolves outside of formal situations."

<FS3> Lanval rolls Tagging+Wits: Success (8 6 5 3 2)

"You're not exactly being friendly, figure it was best to be formal. And will they know in fifty.. one hundred years?" Lanval asks. "We may exist now, in the moment, which is good. But what about in the future?" He finishes his work, putting away his paint and slips back, leaving behind a small wolf's head outline in his wake.

"At the rate this war is going? Pretty sure the Cylons aren't going to give a damn that we were here," Aubrey mutters. She is clearly grumpy right now. Partly it's because of the living conditions, but mostly it's because her dad is in the hospital because of the toasters, and she's still worried about him. She tosses her magazine to the floor beside her cot and sits up, stretching to get some of the kinks out of her aching back. The racks on the vanguard are like a 5 star resort bed compared to these things.

"Are you concerned with what the Cylons think?" Lanval asks, giving a moment to let her consider that question. "Having been in a city under their control for close to a year, I can tell you that they don't give a damn about us."

"That's what I said. They aren't going to give a crap, and they're winning," Aubrey points out. "So no we aren't going to be remembered unless we turn things around and soon." She rummages around in a small bag for a toothbrush and toothpaste from her trip to the shops earlier.

"Then why not give up?" Lanval asks, twisting a look at her. "You sound defeated and broken already. This is just one battle in the whole of the war. We survive. We fight on. You don't need a new bird to do that, it's a nice perk - but at the same time, you have to learn to make do with what you have around you."

"I'm not giving up, I'm just pointing out that tagging the ceiling of a hangar, with no safety gear, 50 feet above a cement floor, just to be remembered, might not be the brightest thing." Aubrey gestures with her toothbrush. She's standing beside the cot she's assigned to, with a toothbrush and travel toothpaste in hand, gesturing up at something on the ceiling.

There's a roll of his eyes as Lanval glances back down towards Aubrey and then stretches out in the rafters. "So laying on a cot, sulking, is so much better, right?" he asks casually, considering the woman down below.

"I was reading, not sulking, before you appeared on high to regale me with your spray paint wisdom," Aubrey points out with a scowl. "Then it was a case of not wanting to be landed on by some crazy marine in the rafters."

"I was just up here minding my business when you decided to refer to me as deranged and.. what was it? Dim as belly button lint?" Lanval retorts. "Then added your own wisdom about how we're losing and it doesn't really matter." There's a little frown at that before the Marine rises up in his full height - which really isn't all that tall, but the light gives him a nice shadow.

Logan pokes his way into the hangar the oversized recon Marine apparently having finished up showering. He glances around the area and surveys grumbling, "And I just figured out where my bunk was." HE slowly paces one edge of the cots counting out numbers quietly to himself and then turning at a specific number and counting out again apparently that's how he remembers where his cot is. Then he glances over at the discussion. He peers over and offers, "My belly lint for the record is exceptionally intelligence for belly lint."

Aubrey shakes her head at Lanval and his overhead theatrics. Then Logan pipes up and the pilot rolls her head slowly to give the big man a look. "Well then why don't you and your belly button lint go climb up there with your buddy?" she asks him, gesturing at the man high above.

There's a sigh that comes from the rafters as Lanval just shakes his head. "I've seen your picture on a couple of billboards around here. So I know it sucks that your home is getting hit. But you're not the first one to have their home hit and hit hard. At least you have someone fighting back. Even if they aren't from around here." With that, there's a small salute thrown towards the two as he starts to make his way along the rafters, sticking to his high ground.

Logan tilts his head up and gives Aubrey a blank look, "Wait I have to climb? CAn't I just jump up and reach it. You know suffering is kind of terrible in some ways. No one really wins at it." He says with mild innocence his head tilting slowly up as if considering it and streting to reach up testingly. He seems to get a lot of looks. He also seems entirely okay with it. He pauses and then shifts and sighs, "This place needs some morale boost badly." He opines as he reaches up scratching his head and simply looking vaguely confused.

The rafters are 50 feet above, where Lanval is walking them. Aubrey frowns at the man's words about her home getting hit. "This is my actual home. Biscayne Bay. My family is here. My dad is in the hospital because of this attack," she points out crossly.

There's a momentary pause. Lanval's home was occupied. His parents are dead. For a moment, he opens his mouth to answer and then decides against it. "Welcome to the war, sir." he offers as he moves on towards the window to climb back out onto the roof of the hangar.

Logan watches the man in the rafters 'walking' away. He then glances towards Aubrey and sighs quietly. He apparently doesn't have a word to say and so simply drops into his cot (which clearly complains at the weight dropping roughly onto it).

Aubrey scowls after him. She mutters to Logan, "I've been in this war since day one. When my mother and all her students died at the Colonial Fair in Hyperion." She pulls moves over to one of the sinks in the mechanics showers at one end of the hangar and brushes her teeth, angrily.

Logan looks up and over glancing towards Aubrey, "And we haven't? Do you know how many people he has lost, or I have? Or anyone else around? Or are the people you knew the only ones that matter? Sure I joined up later than any of you. But how much do you know about what anyone else has faced?" He asks his voice carrying as he sits back up head tilted watching Aubrey.

Aubrey spits out the toothpaste and rinses her mouth before coming back over. "It wasn't about that. He wanted me to go up there with him in the rafters, and called me a chicken for not doing it. I pointed out that being smart doesn't mean being scared, and then it spiraled into," she gestures, "whatever that was."

Logan shrugs his wide shoulders, "We all deal with the suck in different ways. Figure he probably just wants some comraderie. Not saying you should have said yes. Just saying no need to get all angry about it. You have your pictures. He's got.. rafters." He suggests with a shrug.

Aubrey sighs. "Whatever. Asking a random person to climb up there though? What if I did get egged into it, and fell, and died. Then what?" she asks Logan pointedly.

Logan tilts his head and considers Aubrey, "What. You don't think I'd be there to catch you? I'm sure I'm good for a soft landing." He says in amusement, "And you're going to tell me that the stupidest thing you've done in your life would be climbing up into a few rafters?"

"When we all need to be healthy and whole to fight the Cylons? It might be. Other than that, probably hitting on my wingman publically last shore leave. Still feeling that sting." Aubrey snorts and puts away her toothbrush and such, sitting on her cot again.

Logan shrugs, "No one ever plays at a hundred percent. And sure a broken leg will keep you out. But it sounds like your head is hurting pretty bad and you need to deal with that just as well. Lots of things will keep you from playing well. And this isn't like a one bad game. This will get you frak'ed." He pauses at that, "Hey isn't that what shore leave is for? Saving up your stupid decisions."

"I was really, really drunk. And I hit on the CAG first, the last one, not Stirling. Not my finest moment," Aubrey admits. "I have to reign it all in. I can't let the Bay down, Lindus. Seeing my dad in that hospital bed, yesterday. It felt like I'd failed him. Failed to keep the Cylons away from here." She lies down on her back on the cot and stares up at the fresh Timberwolves logo tagged on the ceiling above.

Logan chuckles softly, "You have to keep in mind. I have, exactly, zero idea of who you're talking about." He says in amusement as she clarifies which CAG she hit on. "If that's not your finest moment you're not doing so bad. AT least your highest and lowest points weren't televised to all colonies." He suggests with a grin which quickly fades and then he offers, "That sucks. I get that feeling, you know like you let everyone down. But it's done. No point getting worked up with the people in the trenches with you. We've all got a lot of work ahead of us and we're all that we've got. And you can use that to feed the fire, least that's what I do. You know?"

"I guess," Aubrey says. "It's just all really hitting me today, I guess. And that guy just pushed all the wrong buttons." She drapes a forearm over her eyes for some semblance of darkness. Hangar life blows. "Why did you do it? Leave the pros to join the military?" she asks.

Logan chuckles softly, "It happens. Everyone's on edge. And that's a real hell of a weight. Don't blame you. Just... you know. Offering a friendly helpful kick in the ass." He suggests wryly and then chuckles, "Why?" He shrugs, "Most people would ask why I didn't do it sooner. It was a long while coming. You saw, most of us ended up joining up. We talked about it a lot. What did more good. For awhile... Some might say too long... we thought we could do more good doing what we did. Giving people something to watch. Something to think about other than the war. Some sense of normalcy and something to blow off steam about." He's quiet for a time, "But... eventually that excuse only goes so far. Eventually it doesn't feel right. I wasn't raised not to pull my weight. And... well it seemed like there was a different weight I could pull."

"When Hyperion was hit, when my mother died, it destroyed my dad. He stopped being the man I knew and crawled into a shell of himself. It was only in the last few months he started to come out of that, really. When he found out Addison Walker was MIA. I couldn't help my dad, but I had to do something. So, I left my acting and modeling career, my photography and surfing stuff too, and became a pilot. Part of it was wanting revenge for my mom. Part of it was needing to feel like I could DO something." She lets out a bitter laugh. "Turns out, I'm better at shooting down Cylons in a Viper than I ever was at any of those other things." She's closing in on triple ace, only a few months into her tenure on the wolves.

Logan chuckles softly as he listens, "Everyone had lives they walked away from. Not everyone had it as glamarous as we did." He's quiet for a moment, "Gaoth. It was the starport on Gaoth. That made it harder to bury my head in the sand. Before then it was kind of... a distant thing and then it became real you know?" He chuckles softly, "I don't think anyone knew what to do with me when I joined. Because of my size everyone expected I'd be a Gunner you know lug around heavy kit everywhere." HE admits ruefully, "We all find out things about ourselves we didn't really know. IF it helps from what I've seen you're still pretty good at the photography."

Aubrey arches a brow and lifts her arm to give Logan a look. "You're NOT a gunner?" she asks, because she can't see the big guy being anything else. "And thanks. All my equipment is back on the Vanguard though, otherwise I'd be documenting our new hobo lifestyle."

Logan chuckles softly, "You don't think you can scrounge up parts for a camera? Erin was looking for things to acquire. I can ask if she'll keep an eye out for a camera if you want." He says and then smiles, "No... not as such. I'm actually here in a purely Mascot capacity. They just keep me around for my good looks and charm."

"I'm sure they have some cheap ones in the gift shops, if I want to blow the money on one." Aubrey snorts. "If that were the case, Abby and Rothschild and I would all be on light duty," she points out. "Not a gunner. Rifleman? Engineer?" she asks.

Calliope has acquired a borrowed uniform, though it's entirely the wrong size. Made for someone both shorter and a little heavier than her, it hangs off her a little sack-like while also not quite covering her wrists. Such are the indignities of being a refugee. At least she's clothed. She makes her way into the hangar and wanders vaguely toward a cot she's claimed. There's an exhausted look about her but that's not unusual right now.

Logan grins at Aubrey, "I'm sure they do. But what's the fun in that. Come on I'm sure Erin would enjoy the challenge." HE tilts his head and considers Aubrey, "What you don't think I make a better mascot than the three of you? Maybe they just need someone here for balance." HE suggests lightly, "Oh is it a game now we're playing guessing games?" HE asks of Aubrey. He's apparently sitting up on a cot chatting with Aubrey looking clearly amused.

Aubrey is lying on her cot, chatting with Logan. She looks grumpy, but that is also not uncommon in this situation. "What, you're telling me you're recon? You?" she looks at the giant of a man incredulously.

"You know, I recognize this spaceport," Calliope says as she flops down on her cot. It's one of those 'to no one and everyone' sorts of comments. But she's near Aubrey and Logan, so it basically includes them. "I think I docked here a few times before the war. It is frakking surreal to be back here like this. Hi, Banshee." That last actually is direct. "Lindus."

Geoff comes into the hangar, which by no means feels comfortable or cozy, and lights up a cigarette right after he walks in, pausing to get that done before proceeding to his assigned bunk. Which is not at /all/ in the familiar relationship to the others because of this weird configuration.

Logan chuckles softly at Aubrey's reaction and he smiles, "I keep telling you. I'm here in a purely mascot capacity." He shrugs, "But I suppose yes if you must know. My specialty is officially Recon." He admits absently as he glances up and over to new arrivals. He inclines his head Calliope and smiles, "Hello there. So where do you come down on Rafter climbing?" He asks curiously.

"Hey Soundbite," Aubrey greets in return. "Yeah, I was through this place a lot growing up. My old house isn't far from here. Or what's left of my dad's condo." She still looks at Logan in an unbelieving manner. "Really? Do the trees just shrink out of your way so you make no noise sneaking around?" She gives Geoff a nod, though her nose wrinkles at the smoke.

Calliope blinks. At Logan first. Then, up. To contemplate the ceiling. "Like, up there?" She points. "I think I'll leave it to the Marines. I don't climb all that well without an engine and an air frame." Geoff's entrance makes her turn her head and she calls to him, "Hi, Courtois! Lindus was asking about rafter-climbing! Opinions?" A nod to Aubrey, look of sympathy crossing her face when the other pilot mentions her home. And her dad's condo. "It was a pretty place, the little time I spent in it. Still is, even if this wasn't exactly the kind of shore leave I wanted."

Geoff seems not in the finest mood when he comes afoul of Aubrey's disapproving look. He gestures to the space. "It's a big frakkin' hangar," he mutters around the cig. Then he looks over at Calliope, gaze raking over her in search of the meaning of her remarks. "What are you talking about? What for?"

Logan points out to Aubrey, "Well if you were a tree and you saw me coming through wouldn't you want to get out of the way?" He asks in a not at all helpful manner. He gives a grin at Calliope, "I suppose there is that. I guess Marines are just used to having to get up and down on their own." He says in amusement and then raise sa hand to waves at the arrival of Geoff. " Heyo. Eh. It's an ongoing theme. Some people are pro rafter life, some people are anti-rafter life. I'm conducting a survey. Possibly to do with expansion of useful living space." He says with his typical mild delivery.

"Probably would," Aubrey admits to Logan about getting out of his way. She snorts at Geoff. "Don't they store fuel in hangars? Wouldn't smoking in one be unwise?" Calliope gets a small smile. "It's hard to be this close to where I used to surf and not be able to. There's a lot of debris, a lot. Saw it on the way to the hospital yesterday."

Geoff blinks at Logan. "What, you wanna make this place /less/ safe to live in?" he asks. Then he looks to Aubrey. "This is an old one. Don't think it's in use or that they're tryin' to bed us down in the middle of a buncha gasoline fumes, but if you're so frakkin' uptight about it..." He squats down to scrape the cigarette out on the ground so that he can save the unsmoked portion (which is most of its length) for later. Cigarettes currently being in short supply.

Logan sniffs, "Well that all depends on the construciton and it's still in the idea phase." He waves a hand Geoff, "Everyone's up tight a little. Relax." He suggests watching Geoff put the cigarette out. He is quiet for a time and then asks of Aubrey, "How bad was the debris something that could be cleared out?"

Calliope indicates Logan as he explains his rafter survey, at Geoff's question. "I hope we aren't here long enough for me to take a firm pro- or anti-rafter position." She tries to sound hopeful. It doesn't quite land. "This isn't bad, but it's one of those 'never complain about the berths again' sort of perspective moments." Half-smile to Aubrey. "I can imagine. Maybe you can still get a little beach time, even if the water's too frakked up to go out in."

"Sorry, I'm just a little on edge right now," Aubrey says to Geoff. She shrugs at Logan. "It was just a glimpse from a taxi. Lot of buildings were hit. Lot of crashed ships too. The local authorities are still combing for bodies before they can start the clean up proper." She grimaces at that and begins braiding her hair reflexively. "Anyone figure out where they're sending us yet? We know it's probably not back to the Vanguard. Too many ships now for that boat." She looks among them for their guesses.

Geoff stands up again, and looks up to the ceiling. "Feel like the whole thing's gonna crash in on me as it is," he says. "But...it's nice to have a little more space while we're here. We oughta do something for morale."

Logan shrugs at Calliope, "One must always plan for expansions. You never want to just add on." He considers then and looks to Aubrey, "Maybe I'll slip out and give it an assessment. Might give people something to do that they can actually focus on. It sounds like beaches are a pretty popular past time or at least well known. I was originally asking Erin to keep an eye out for still parts but this might be a better plan. We'll have to figure out what gear we need so probably have to grab one of the engineers before we slip out." He then glances towards Geoff, "See at least if you were in the Rafters you'd be the one crashing in on people."

Calliope shakes her head to Aubrey. She certainly doesn't know. "The CAG and the Colonel and the rest of them will figure it out." Again, attempt at sounding confident, with debateable success. "But, yeah, probably not. If they can fly all those things, they're going to want to use them. Maybe they'll roll a new battlestar off the line, and we can travel in style." Her eyes go wide up the ceiling again, at Geoff's words about it crashing down. "It looks pretty sturdy...ish?"

"They might end up assigning us to some of the cleanup," Aubrey says quietly. "I never thought I'd miss my rack on the Vanguard, but these cots are the worst. As for morale? Maybe the gift shops have some cards and dice and stuff?"

Geoff looks at Logan, puzzled. "The frak are you talking about, expansion?" he asks. "For refugees?" He looks to Calliope. "It's too big."

Logan shrugs at Geoff, "Not for any particular reason. Just habit I guess. If you've got something you're going to do something with it." He nods to Aubrey, "I expect they will some of the units anyways while we're here. Morale's... pretty rough." He agrees and then grins at Callope, "Or more likely they'll find something in a junkyard and slap a new coat of paint on it."

Calliope shrugs to Geoff. "Yeah. Probably. Repairs to the Vanguard are going to take forever, though." Chuckle to Aubrey. "I know, right? Even if it felt like sleeping in a box sometimes, at least it was my box. I don't want to complain too much, though. Guess we could be a lot worse off than we are, given the state the Vanguard's in."

Geoff squints at Logan. "So...did /everybody/ go frakkin' crazy while I was gone, or what?" he asks. Then finally he looks to Aubrey. "Cards and stuff's all right, but maybe something better. A show or something to distract people. There's plenty of space to actually get everybody together all at once." He frowns thoughtfully at the berths.

Logan assures Geoff, "I STARTED crazy." He says contently and then nods to Calliope, "Anything that big they usually do. I'm sure we'll find something to oeprate out of temporarily. I mean not that a planet is a bad place to base out of it but it seems a bit limited for what we're supposed to do." He snorts then at Aubrey's comment, "Speak for yourself. Those racks are NOT one size fits all." He complains sourly for once.

"Maybe a light carrier. That could hold all our birds and all of the Wolves. It's not a battlestar, but it's not quite as small as the Vanguard either." Aubrey chuckles a little at Calliope. "I have a new appreciation for what little privacy those rack curtains give us, you know?"

"I can sing! Sort of." Calliope pipes up enthusiastically at Geoff's suggestion of a show. "You're right that we're going tohave to do something to keep us from going nuts while we're camping here. It's not like there aren't toasters to fight on Picon, so they might well keep us operating planet-side for awhile. We've got the planes to do it in." Head tilts at Logan and Geoff. "How're you all doing? The fighting on the ground sounded intense."

"I dunno, we're not really on leave here. They're going to be sending us on on patrols and CAPS soon, and to help out in the city," Aubrey notes to Geoff. "Something that largescale might have to wait for shoreleave, if we ever get it again." She laughs shortly at Logan. "Well maybe you could knock out the wall between two of them and be able to stretch out?"

Geoff wakes up from his contemplation of the cots to look at Calliope with interest. "Then you should sing," he says firmly. "Who said anything about leave?" he asks Aubrey. "Everybody has off-shifts." He scratches his chest as he looks back to Calliope. "Whenever I'm not bedridden, that means it must've gone okay out there, right? For me."

Logan glances to Calliope and smiles, "That sounds fun. I think singing and dance would be interesting." He points out and then he shrugs his shoulders, "Recon.... tended more towards the edges of things. The rifle units caught the brunt." He admits grimly, "Though we made a few marks." He says absnetly as he glances towards Aubrey, "Don't tempt me.... it's just all about finding the right set of explosives that will burn through rather than shred it."

"Maybe one of those bars where you can get up and sing survived," Calliope says. She pushes herself up off her cot again. Pacing restlessly. "Speaking of not being bedridden, I think I'm going to walk out and take a look at the Raptors again. And not stare at the rafters for awhile."

Aubrey gives Logan a small smile, then she nods at Geoff. "Maybe. I think I'm going to go get some food and pick at the offerings in the terminal shops. Be nice to not sleep in the same things I'm wearing all day." She stands from her cot and picks up a small bag, before she heads towards the exit to the terminal.

"Bring me back a present," Geoff says to Aubrey. But he can't mean it, since their interaction didn't seem terribly positive. Can he?" He lifts an eyebrow at Logan. "You gonna cut a rug for us, maybe?" he asks, somewhere between encouraging and teasing. "I heard you're light on your feet."


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