AWD #266: Admiring the View
Admiring the View
Summary: A group of Orion's marines admire the view from the control tower at Crandall
Date: 29/Sep/2013
Related Logs: Nothing specific
Amos Callen Kostas Jena Knox 
Control Tower, CFAB Crandall
The lower levels are full of marines work on air operations and such, but the glass wallked top floor is badly damaged and on the exposed side. It does offer quite the view though.
AWD #266

While the majority of CFAB Crandall is firmly under the control of the Colonial Marines, there are still areas of sporadic fighting that necessitate body armour and rifles for all but the foolish, whereever they might be in the sprawling complex. The control tower though has long been secured and made safe with various rooms turned into Operations centres from which the ongoing activities can be co-ordinated. The top level though, with it's glass walls, has been deemed too dangerous for prolonged occupation while there are still hostiles and is thus empty of the thum of people. It's still got a bloody fine view though, even though many of the panes of glass are long gone, and so that is where Captain Ommanney is currently sat, watching the progress of patrols through field glasses and keeping an ear on the radio. Just in case.

Corporal Methos has never been known as a big talker. The kind of type that tends to stay out of the big picture and just wants to do his job, whatever that might be. But it's a moment of quiet in an otherwise couple of tense days. People can't be on edge all the time. But he sits on a now empty ammo crate, emptied out some time ago. His rifle sits next to him, ready to go at a moments notice, but that's currently not his main concern right now. Fighting will come again whenever it happens, that can't be helped. What can be helped is breaking of the monotony, the silence. So, he's been sitting there, playing his harmonica. It's not much, but it's something.

Setting the binoculars down once the patrol he'd been following moves out of sight behind a hanger, Amos is content to just scan the surroundings with his own gods given vision for a moment or two before he's glancing towards the radio. It stays stubbornly silent though and so he glances to the marine with him, "you know anything Libran Corporal?" Not that his home colony is noted much for music, but there are a few old tunes floating about that claim it as their origin.

The one thing Callen does is stop playing whenever the radio crackles on. But it has indeed stayed rather silent today. That could either be a good thing or…not so good. He pauses for a moment, knocking excess saliva from the harp against his leg. He sits for a moment, trying to recall something that might pass as Libran, most of his stuff that's not bluesy has been Aquarian sea shanties. "I think I know one or two tunes, sir." he nods, then blowing on the line of holes that go across the harmonica. He begins to play again, this time it's a bit slower, a bit more soulful. If fits the weather, if anything.

There's the sound of bootsteps taking the stairs up one or two at a time, until Ensign Kostas appears at the top of them. She's got her rifle slung over her shoulder, helmet on but loosely strapped, and a battered steel mug of what smells like really bad coffee. She too seems to be eager to catch a high-up glimpse, though the peers around curiously at the sound of the harmonica, and hides a grin at seeing Amos up here.

Theres the faint echoing of a raport of gunfire a long way off to the east, far side of the AMARG most likely, but there's a whole bunch of marines aready in the area so no call to drag in the 3/8th as well. Theres a silent nod of thanks as the tune changes and he leans back into the ATC chair that seems to have survived well enough these past few months. His movement are still cautious at times, but he's looking a lot better for have managed both proper medical attention and a few hours of decent sleep. While he would have been content to simply listen to the music the sound of bootsteps approaching has him turning, or more accurately, the chair turning since he opted to park his arse in one of the swivel ones. "Ensign," he offers with a faint nod as Kostas is recognised, "come for the view, or to check up on me?" There's a faint hint of amusement as he then adds, "I promise you I have been no where near any of the fighting and the corporal here is my witness."

Callen has always enjoyed playing requests where he can. It's something he's learned since bringing the musical skill from him on Aquaria that when you're between battles on some planet, soldiers like something that remind them of home. Of better times. His foot has been tapping to give something of a drumbeat, but there's only so much you can do with boots and a hard cement floor. Kostas' arrival gets a following of the eyes but he doesn't seem inclined to stop playing. Granted, he nods when the Captain refers to Methos as a witness.

"Bit'f both," Kostas admits. "You only look half shot ta shit now, sir. Not too bad." She glances out the shattered window. "We find anything *interestin'* yet?" she raises her brows, as she slurps her coffee, trying to not make a face. Callen is given an appraising gaze, and then a nod, before she turns back to ask, "Sure hope th' one we brought back yesterday weren't too interestin' though."

There's a brief nod of thanks from Amos to Callen as his statement is confirmed, and he listens on for a few moments longer before he answers Kostas. "Not since last I was in Ops, nor over comms since." Not that he sounds disapointed by that mind, he's deeply thankful. "Still need to get all the guys checked out I image, but there's been no indication of anything yet." He doesn't have a specific update onthe individual referenced so he just ives a very slight shrug of his shoulders before turning back to Callen again. "Need a drink with all the blowing?" he asks, unstrapping his canteen as he does so, he's about to take a swig, so it seems reasonable to offer.

Callen has learned to usually shut up in the presence of officers. Or at least, that's how his last tours went. Be seen, not heard. Much like his trips to his grandparents house. So it's role that he's been used to for the majority of his life. He does exchange glances between Amos and Kostas as they chat, but he doesn't really seem to have much to add. But he's never been much of a chatterbox. He does his talking through his harmonica. The thought about getting something to drink hadn't really occured to him up until he was asked, so he finishes the last bit of mournful warbling from the small instrument infront of his lips, then pulling it away. "I could probably use, yeah." His voice quiet, soft. Not shy, just quiet. "Thank you, sir."

Up and about early this morning, Jena had already made some rounds with a few of the less wounded who hadn't been transferred back to Orion. Swapping out bandages, checking stitches, just general first aid kind of stuff. Once leaving that area, she steps out, wearing her armor, her pack. Hearing the music lightly drifting over, she heads over in that direction.

"Sure it's comin'," Kostas says, her gravelly voice quiet before she takes another slurp of coffee. She glance back out the window again, though it's more to the horizon rather than the base itself, frowning slightly before her expression relaxes back into its for the moment affable neutrality. "Where you in from, Corporal?" she asks, head tilted slightly as she notes both Orion Patch, and Dog Platoon. And that has a spark of a white-toothed grin in her tan features. "Welcome aboard, Corporal. Silvia Kostas, Platoon Officer fer Dog."

Amos unscrews the top of the canteen and takes a mouthful before reaching carefully to pass it to Callen. A spot of movement on the apron below has him reaching for his field glasses again but it quickly turns out to be a couple of the CMC's armoured vehicles which he watches for only a moment or two before setting them down again and turning back to the marines as Kostas works the introductions. "Here's hoping not Ensign, the fewer of those abominations in existance the better I feel."

Did someone say ABOMINATION? "Thought I heard laziness up here," Knox muses as he climbs the stairs, boots clomping. "They need a working elevator. Screw the six flights of stairs." He leans against the wall in the stairwell, looking over the others from his lower vantage point. He's still got his radio pack on and a new rifle held in one arm. Given the streaks of dirt and sweat run right over the straps holding on his MICH helmet, he probably has been moving since Kostas saw him last.

With a nod, Callen takes the offered canteen, drinking, but not chugging. It's really only one swallow anyways. "In from?" he blinks glancing over to Kostas. "Been a lot of places. I hadn't been stationed on the Orion for much more than a week before getting sent here. Before that, did a lot of planet-hopping. Originally, from Aquaria. But, thanks. Good to be here, you know, for whatever it's worth." Handing the canteen back to Amos, he fiddles with his harp a bit, noting one of the small screws holding a metal plate down got loose. "Can't lose this." he says softly, managing a small smile. "Without this, I'm sure I would've been the bait for some recon plan months ago."

Not far behind the Six, Jena follows up the stairs, making out a little of the banter above her. As the Six stops to lean on the wall in the stairwell, she offers him a more friendly nod than he had received the last time their paths had crossed. "An Elevator.. that'd be nice, Sergeant." Though she doesn't stop, just continues onwards and upwards, not allowing the weight of the pack on her back to slow her down.

Amos takes the canteen back and replaces the cap carefully. He's still noticly favouring his right arm, but his left is good enought hat he doesn't seem to require addition assistance. Using his feet to swivel his chair round so he can see the stairwell he gives Knox a brief nod in acknowledgement. "You're free to join us Sergeant," he starts, then adds "Petty Officer," as Jena's appearance is revealed as well. "View's spectacular, although likely as not we shouldn't stay and enjoy it too long, just in case." Not that that means that he's making a move just now mind, more a reminder to himself at least not to get too complacent. Finally, to Kostas, "oh, I'm sure there'll be plenty more ahead, of all varities."

Oh good, more people that Callen has never met. Or rather, hasn't said more than a couple of words. It's only been a week since he was on Orion, and here even less. But Picon(they -are- on Picon, right?)is somewhere he has been. Which takes him all the way back to War Day. Sometimes things come full circle. Either way, he doesn't seem to dwell on it. "Sergeant. Petty Officer." the Corporal greets simply in the same quiet voice of his. Then he just goes back to playing. It's his way to pass the time for whenever they have to move out again.

Coop looks to Jena as she passes. "You're a machine, Petty Officer. And coming from the token engineered being in the unit, that's saying something. Where the hell do they assemble PJs at, anyway? Between the titanium balls and the iron spines, its a wonder you don't get Centurions trying to get you all in the sack." To Kostas he shakes his head. "Just looking to escape the Battalion Bullshit. I missed the fighting but not other aspects. Know what I mean, sir?" He tosses Amos a lazy salute. "Feelin better, Captain?" Callen gets a nod as well.

Amos glances upwards as Knox salutes and grudingly accepts that enough of the roof is missing that this probably doesn't count as inside any more. He returns the salute, but he isn't getting up or anything, not unless he really has to or has sufficent notice to do it slowly. "I'm reliably informed that I now only look half 'shot ta shit'," he quotes, with a wry smile towards Kostas, "so I guess that means I'm improving. And yourself Sergeant?"

Finally arriving at the top with the others, Jena offers a friendly smile to the group at large. "Hello, Sirs." Should just about cover it, right? "I think the view is great." Though her lips twitch at the mention of not enjoying it too long. "Heard the music and had to come check it out." The PO grins at Knox. "Yeah.. about that. How's St. James doing? I didn't see her when I was checking over the other wounded."

Amos glances upwards as Knox salutes and grudingly accepts that enough of the roof is missing that this probably doesn't count as inside any more. He returns the salute, but he isn't getting up or anything, not unless he really has to or has sufficent notice to do it slowly. "I'm reliably informed that I now only look half 'shot ta shit'," he quotes, with a wry smile towards Kostas, "so I guess that means I'm improving. And yourself Sergeant?"

Again, Callen is playing, but this time, the song doesn't last nearly as long as the previous one. There's more people about, and as much as he'd like to hold a privat concert, this probably isn't the best time. But he does maybe maybe want to kill the tension of being in such a dire situation. Finishing his song, he taps the harp against his leg again. "That was me, Petty Officer." he offers quietly. "Thought the Captain could use some mood music, y'know? And he looks right as rain, I think." And then he realizes that nobody here probably really knows him. "Er, Corporal Callen Methos. I, uh…I'm new here."

"Its my duty to inform you, sir, that people are kissing your ass when they tell you that," Knox states bluntly to the Captain, but its obviously Marines frakkin with each other. There's a hint of a grin there. He holds up his bandaged hand. "Lost a small chunk. I'll survive, Cap. Just eager, otherwise." The grin holds on his face as he looks over to Jena, but the question has the expression melt away. "Last I saw she was holding her own. Other than that, no idea." There's a distinct way its spoken that says something happened and the two aren't together anymore. Looking over to Callen, the man nods. "Sergeant Cooper Knox. Joint Terminal Attack Controller." He's an air support and artillery specialist. Radio geeks too insane to want to be special forces, too smart to quit. He's also definitely a skinjob, yep.

Amos smiles a little at Callen's words then notes with an amused hint to his tone, "I like you Corporal, you can stay. You however," he continues, turning to Knox and pointing a finger, although not loosing the amused tone, "are apparently too damn honest for your own good." There's more sounds of vehicles moveing along the runway, but a quick glance confirms it to be yet more colonial armour. Eyeing Knox's hand a moment he nods once then tilts his head towards the corporal, "how's about the corp's quick march, seems fitting don't you think? Or perhaps the slow one, whichever you feel more comfortable with."

Jena can't help but chuckle when Knox speaks about kissing the Captain's ass. The expression is hard to miss and she realizes there was more to St. James and the Six than she's aware, so she doesn't ask further. Soldier code there, she can read between the lines. A brief flash of sympathy enters her eyes, but she looks away quickly after. "PO2 Jena Cruz. Medical." The music draws a smile back and she nods approvingly. "Sounds beautiful."

"Thank you, sir. I'd like to." Callen isn't a suck up, he's just…nice? Polite? Hard to say, given how little he really talks. Most times it's more about his harp than anything else. His rifle looks pretty meticulous. As does the knife strapped to his boot and the second one on his shoulder. Another blink. "JTAC? Hardcore." he whistles. "And I thought wanting to be a sniper was BA. Too bad I never got that training." Missed chances, that. Trying to get a gauge of the other two, he suddenly feels a bit small. "JTAC and a PeeJay in one room. Suddenly, I feel a bit emasculated. But thank you," the last goes to Jena. "I can't add much, but I can at least carry a tune."

Coop smirks a little. "Wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't cut through the bullshit for you, Cap." He slides a glance to the others and lets off a huff, mood darkened. "I'm going to go try and get a nap, sir. If you need anything, I'll be in the commo tent at the base of the control tower." Looking to Callen, Coop shakes his head. "You want something badly enough, Corporal, you can have it. There's nothing that says you can't still learn to put on serious levels of skill with shooting. Biggest mindfrak that comes between people and that kind of skillset is their own head. You want lessons and you're willing to work with a skinjob, let me know. I'll make you cry but you'll get there as long as you don't quit. Stealth is another man's game, though." He glances to the senior officer. "Cap," he offers as he turns to trudge down the stairs.

"Careful," Amos retorts, "or I shall find the corporal here a bugle to serenade you with." As he turns to go though he offers a brief nod in acknowledgement and a "rest well Sergeant," before he shuffles the chair back round a bit to take in more of the view. "How long before the rest of 'em notice we're up here do you reckon?" he asks of no one in particular, "I think I could grow to like it as a vantage point."

"Didn't get the chance, sarge." Callen shrugs. "Not that I wasn't good enough, just wasn't room and I didn't feel like waiting a couple extra months at AIT to be let in. It was…well, a regret anyhow." The mention of him being a skinjob gets a shrug. "That was something I was briefed about before I came onto the Orion and if it'd be an issue. Say the same thing I told them: I don't have time for hate. Rather think with a clear head, not a clouded one. So yeah, you want to offer the time, I'll offer the effort." That said, he gives a nod when he makes his way out. A nervous laugh then follows that moment of seriousness. "Aw, Cap, I'm not good with a horn. Totally different mouth placement. Though..that might be the point."

"A serenade?" Jena teases. "You offer serenades?" Leaning a hip against the wall she observes the Captain and Corporal before the Sergeant mentions leaving. "See you around soon, Sergeant." An encouraging smile is given to him though once again, it's brief. "Sounds like you carry a tune really well, Corporal. Do you play any other instruments?"

Amos cracks a grin at Callen and states in his best 'officer' voice, "Don't worry Corporal, thats merely a minor detail I am sure." Glancing back to the stairs again he then adds, more in his usual tone, "I think however, that I have pushed my luck up here for long enough this afternoon so if you'll excuse me. If anyone comes looking I'll be seeing what they've managed to rustle up in the mess tent." There's a definite grimace as he pushes himself cautiously to his feet, then he's reaching to resecure his canteen and collect his rifle and binoculars before heading carefully for the stairs.

"I can, but I'm not sure if anyone would want to be serenaded with a harmonica." Callen chuckles towards Jena. "Not exactly the most romantic instrument in the world. Usually most people think violin or piano or something like that." He leans back on the ammo crate he's sitting on. "I'm alright with woodwind instruments. It's similiar to how lip placement goes on a harp, as is the breathing techniques. Clarinet, saxaphone, though I'm more fond of a sax, really." He can't help but grin a little. "Of course it is, sir. Minor detail an all." Then a nod. "Alright, sir. I'll keep a watch out here, let you know if anything worthwhile comes over the horn." Then he looks over at Jena again. "Would the Petty Officer like to keep me company. I could play some more if you like."

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