AWD #015: Early Birds
Early Birds
Summary: Several of the air wing's pilots converge on the ready room for an impromptu early morning meeting.
Date: 21/01/2013
Related Logs: None
Holtz Cole Tiptoft Zachary Jess Ygraine 
Ready Room
Capable of seating every member of the wing with space to spare in its stadium organization, the Ready Room has more than two hundred seats and is the largest room on the ship dedicated to single briefings. Sections of desks were manufactured specifically for this and wrap the width of each level of seating, rolling leather seats positioned at even points through each row. The walls have the tenant squadrons' patches painted on individual panels as well as a Kill Board up to the left side of the dais and podium, the Training Board on the other side to log progress. At the rear hatch, on a barren section of wall, is the framed and cased photo of 'Bad Dog' Ruegger.
January 21, 2005

Shhh. A wild Tiptoft has appeared.

He has appeared in the Ready Room, to be precise, which at 0615 hours happens to be very much abandoned. The big man has stuffed all two hundred pounds of himself into a very small chair, and scattered all around him are the usual accoutrements of flight school: one (1) very large flight manual whose title, 'MK VII VIPER FLIGHT MANUAL,' has been crossed out and re-titled in black ink 'HOW TO PEWPEWPEW'; four (4) Predator avionics control settings for various engagements; ten (10) assorted markers, pens, pencils, and highlighters; and one (1) wrinkled lads' mag from December 2004, opened to that gorgeous centerfold of Candy Applebottom. It's on that last manual that he's most recently been concentrating, judging from the fact that it's lying on his torso — which now shudders as he lets out a very loud snore.

Caution: the wild Tiptoft is asleep.

Arriving in the ready room to grab a few items before he hits the sims, Zachary pauses when he sees a wild Tiptoft in a chair. It's been a wild few weeks. He can't blame the pilot for being asleep, so he goes past the pilot and searches for he supplies he needs. And then realizes. There's no more highlighters. So.. Tiptoft has plenty. He frowns.

And then he takes a small whiteboard and writes on it before placing it gently in front of Tiptoft's chest.

Hornicus Piloticus Caninus
Horn Dog Pilot
Natural Habitat - In Hibernation
Do Not Tap the Tiptoft

Setting it down, he finishes scavenging about for supplies.

Holtz enters the Ready Room clad in slightly rumpled blues, still rubbing sleep from his eyes as a toothpick twitches between his lips. His usual binder, containing a notebook and his own, slightly older flight manual(not old enough to describe the Mark II as cutting edge technology, despite scurrilous rumors to the contrary) is slung under his arm, and he stifles a yawn as he walks down the steps into the ready room. The big pilot stops as he sees Tiptoft, though, and an eyebrow raises slowly. There's a soft snicker as he reads Zachary's sign.

And then cue Cole, carrying not just one but a stack of manuals. He's got to one up everyone, the gods damned over achiever. If he's tired, it doesn't show beyond a redness that rims his eyes. If he knew that Zachary wrote that sign, he might take it as some sort of gospel or indirect order. As it stands, the sign is disrespected as a heavy Raptor manual gets dropped down like a brick just shades away from pancaking Miss Candy. "Wakey wakey, eggs and baccy."

Filling his Horticulturist mug, Zachary turns as other people enter the room. "Oh, didn't know you had the room reserved, Janitor." he comments, topping off his mug. "I was just grabbing some caffine before hitting the simulators to run the Picon simulation again."

That gets Thumper's attention. The big man lurches to life in an explosion of punches and kicks, sending Miss Candy arcing backwards into the dastardly Cole and Zachary's sign forward into Holtz's head. "Gods damn it," he yells, or would have yelled were his vocal cords not stupidly scratchy from his nap. "I frakking hate you all. Was just getting to the good part, yeh?"

Holtz manages to deflect the flying sign with his binder-holding arm. "Lock it up in the spank bank for later, Leo," he teases the younger pilot with a shit-eating grin on his face. A nod goes to the others. "Mornin', Major. Janitor."

"Oh, I don't." Cole tells Zachary, "Just came in to drop off supplies for the pre-shift briefing later." One of the Raptor manuals is lofted in demonstration for the DCAG before it gets extended in Storm's direction. "And you love me, Thumper, don't lie to yourself. I saw my picture pasted over her face. So. Who wants to prove jocks can fly the slow bus? No offense Major."

"So, what would you consider the good part?" Zachary says, offering Tiptoft a thin smile. Then he offers a nod of his head to Holtz. "Storm. How goes the taming of the gamer?" he asks, before his crooked smile turns chagrined at Cole. "Well, Cole, considering that we can make Vipers a dime a dozen, finding a beauty like a Raptor is a bit more challenging. We can't just jump on line and see if we can find one."

"Yo, uh, sir. You know. The, um." Thumper makes an illustrative gesture with his right hand while squeezing his eyes together, apparently taking Holtz's advice. But a frustrated whimper indicates that, in fact, whatever might be running through his brain has gone the way of Virgon. (Ayyyy.) With a grunt, the man leans back into his chair, rubbing away the crust around his eyes with his left thumb and index finger until Cole's offer grabs his attention. "Shit, Cap," he says with a grin. "You want me to wear granny panties too?"

"I was afraid you might have broken him, Major," Holtz replies to Zach with a thin smile, "but he's off to a good start." Storm's brows furrow contemplatively, but he reaches out and takes the Raptor manual when offered. "Shit, you don't know slow until you gotta drive a luxury liner full of drunken tourists," he grouses lightly, thumbing through the pages. "Haulin' Marines'd be a step up."

Zachary rolls his eyes, and sighs. "I was flying Raptors before Tiptoft even know that Rosy Palmer and her five sisters were his new best friends." he gestures to the rude hand motion that the big player is making. "Anyway, I think I'm going to have to scrap the nuclear ops." he says with a shake of his head. "There's not been one attack run I've done yet where I can't get the bird in close enough to put a good spread into her crack." he murmurs as he sips from his coffee, his flight suit already stained with sweat. He's probably been running the mission from every perceievable angle. "Well, I'm not looking for haulers, I'm looking for people crazy enough to jump from a running raptor to hot start a downed raptor and get it back here."

Janitor slips up on one of the tables, the remaining stack of Raptor manuals set down next to him. A pack of cigarettes is pulled out of his pocket and knocked against his fingers to lose one out from it's friends. "Hot wiring and driving it like you stole it. Shouldn't be anything new for you, Thumper."

Tiptoft smiles one of his rare smiles. "You gonna need a dude with stones to do that, CAG-man, and Storms's dried out like two decades ago." Thumper offers the DCAG a casual finger-flutter before leaning over to the next seat to retrieve his things. The PEWPEWPEW Manual and Predator sequences are smashed together into a single stack of paper and shoved into his big gym bag. "I'm in it to win it, Coach Cole. And for the godsdamned record, I never stole a car in my life. Shit. Just 'cause I came up in Kingston doesn't mean I went around robbing people."

Holtz' eyebrow quirks when Zachary mentions the job description, but he nods. As Janitor speaks, though, a twisted smile begins to spread across his face as he looks from Cole to Zachary. "Hell, sounds like fun when you put it that way. Where do I sign?" Then a look over at Tiptoft, and Holtz shoots the man a rude gesture. "Pound sand, Thump. They weren't too dry in the big scrum over Caprica." A sneer follows. He's not usually the preening, posturing type, but this is that stubborn pride of his talking.

"Was there some sort of breakfast meeting I wasn't invited to?" Jess wonders as she steps into the Ready Room and finds it not-empty. She's still buttoning up her blues jacket, tied-back hair leaving a damp patch on the back of the collar. "But minus the breakfast," she says, seeing none. "What're we driving like we stole it today? What is that?" She has spotted the sand now and is peering at it.

"Sounds like you have your first volunteers, Janitor. I don't need to many people for the project, but the cross-training can be helpful. Just be sure to let Butch know not to break them too much if she takes on the assignment?" Zachary offers a chuckle as he sips from his coffee again, and glances up as Jess arrives. "Just discussing the idea of crosstraining you sticks to drive a smoother ride if we find a wounded Raptor in the field."

"Yo chill out, Storms. Just taking the piss, yeh? And breakfast? Shit, that's an idea. Gotta raid the pantries when we get back to the Colonies. Get some black pudding, get some fresh bread, get some bangers, get some mash, throw on some beans, and BOOM BABY." Thumper slams his palms together in anticipation. "Maybe throw some tomatoes on there, too, 'cause of that order to eat our veggies." Apparently, Thumper has resolved the great fruit-vegetable debate in the latter's favor. "Anyway. Just to make things crystal, you just need us to fly the thing? Don't need to fiddle with the E-Dub business in the back or anything?" Math is hard.

"Impromptu." Cole assures Jess before he leans over the flame of his lighter, sparking up a cigarette which seems to be his breakfast. "Yeah, I'll get together a list 'n talk to Butch." He mutters, taking the first few drags to soak up that sweet nicotine. "Wanna give it a go, Nags?" His fingers thump the cover of one of the Raptor manuals at his side.

Yeah, yeah, Leo, I got you," Holtz replies. "Just shootin' a little back, is all." A chuckle. "I dunno about that, Thump. Heard the Cylons were throwin' a lot of nukes around down there. You eat the wrong thing, you'll be glowin' brighter than my daughter's nightlight." He looks at Zachary with a snort. "Smooth only matters in frakking and slow jams, sir. But what the hell, I'll take a stab at it anyways."

"Huh," says Jess at the explanation, and then shrugs at Cole, "Sure, why not." She straightens up from eyeing that sign, gives Tiptoft a sideways look, and then pushes off a chair and says, "Later, though. I got stuff to do, first. Holtz, we still on for lunch to go over the latest drafts?"

"Just want you to know enough to not crash it into a tree in the middle of space." Zachary clarifies. "I can't ask for miracles, after all." he comments, apparently able to hold his own with the relentless Viper teasing. But Jess' comment catches his attention. "Is that a private discussion or something we can go ahead and talk about here, since you have the ears of your SL and CAG?" he offers in suggestion.

"You want the bus home without scratches, boss, better take out some insurance. Those Raptors don't have wiggle." Unlike Thumper, who illustrates the point with a flex of his hips. Then, to Holtz: "Your baby girl still needs a nightlight? Thought she was, like, fifteen." See? Math is hard. "And yo, all you need to do to fix that problem is serve up that Full Virgan with a jab of anti-rads or something. C'mon, man. Use your brain." At which point Tiptoft completely misinterprets Jess's sidelong look and offers her two thumbs-up. Yeah baby.

"I'm more concerned with the landing than the flying. What chapter is /that/?" Not that Cole seems intent on looking it up just now. He has three volunteers already, but it doesn't seem the pro ten SL is going to preclude himself from at least learning what he expects his pilots to learn. Janitor is sitting up on one of the tables, smoking a cigarette while the group discusses cross-training.

"You bet, Nags," Holtz replies, nodding. He's standing not far from the others, rolling a toothpick around in his mouth and leaning against the podium at the center of the platform at the front of the room. "Handle what you gotta handle, I'll catch up." A sidelong glance goes to Zachary, and he shrugs. "Wouldn't say private, sir, so much as routine. Nothin' worth taking up your time at this point, I don't think." He looks questioningly back at Jess, in case she has a different idea. "More like eight." That's to Tiptoft. He rolls his eyes in the other man's direction. "Hey, man, do what you gotta do. Just don't come crying to me when your hair falls out and your balls snap off."

Ygraine walks in, a copy of the predator manual in her hot little hands. There's a quick perusal for coffee and any potential for baked goods before considering her seating options.

"Well, maybe I should ask the ECOs to be more gentle when walking you through the flying. After all, they're going to be the ones handling the jumps while you grip the stick." Zachary lets out a low breath. No, no baked goodies today, Ygraine. Stalk him another time for that. "Very well, then." he comments towards Holtz. "I know I posted a ton of orders this morning. Any questions on any of them other than the Raptor training?"

Thumper shrugs. No questions from him. "You're the one who does the crying, my man." Thumper chuckles as he bumps Storm in the shoulder with his fist. "Right. Well, glad I ran into you guys — this shit's gonna be fly. I'm gonna rack out before the morning brief. Long night and all." The man isn't joking; his bloodshot eyes are testament to that. Hefting his overloaded gym bag over his shoulder, he heads for the hatch, nodding at Ygraine as he passes. And before he forgets: "Yo Janitor, you can keep the mag."

Jess shakes her head at Holtz, agreeing, "Like Storm said, sir, just routine. It's a lot of data to compile and crunch and perfect, it's just going to take another week or two, there's no real getting around that. We'll let you know when we've got something worth showing anybody else." In the absence of breakfast, baked goods, or further orders, she says, "Right, morning, then. I hope you laminated that shit." This with a point towards the magazine before she gives a casual salute and heads for the door.

No baked goods; sad. Ygraine is getting spoiled. She half-heartedly perks when she hears the magic word 'ECO', but when there's no direct follow up she moves along with getting her coffee and finding a seat to park in. Kicking back, her long legs get placed on the chair in front of hers, and she tugs out a highlighter as she opens the manual. Tippy's nod gets returned, and she half keeps an ear on the convo otherwise.

"Oh, shut the frak up," Holtz sighs after Tiptoft, but there's no real acrimony there. "Hey, mornin' Shakes." He waves at Ygraine from across the room. Then, eyes slide over in Zachary's direction. "You got anyone specific in mind for those Viper mods, Major? Or were you just taking volunteers?"

Cole leans over, taking a hold of the Miss Candy Applebottom magazine with forefinger and thumb in a pinch at it's very corner. Underhandedly, he pitches towards the trashcan, living up to his call sign.

"Just looking for volunteers that are willing to handle the Master Chief's orders. He runs the deck and the birds are his when we aren't in them. Just let your SL know you're interested." Zachary says, and offers Ygraine a smile. "I am not sure if Booboo will be around, but I am returning to Picon tomorrow if you want to sit in the ECO, Shakes. If not, I'll get Beachcomber to come along. He's been helping me run the training sim." he comments, a chuckle as Cole chucks the dirty mag. "Someone may claim that as a culturial icon someday."

"Sure Boss, if Bennett hasn't appropriated me for anything she's assigned for, I'd be glad to go." Ygraine says cheerfully. "Morning, Stormy. Janipants, you on a moral crusade or something?"

"I just don't prefer second hand spank material. Some bloke in Support can find it and idolize it." Cole slips off the edge of the table, "Alright. I'm off. All this talk about breakfast and lunch reminds me I'm not following my own orders." That being getting three squares in a day.
GAME: Save complete.

Holtz throws off a lazy half-salute in Cole's direction. "Nobody likes a hypocrite, Cap," he remarks dryly. "Eat up." An eyebrow quirks in Zachary's direction. "Back to Picon? You goin' for another look-see, or what? Sir," He hastily adds at the end.

"Yes, I am. If there is a Command element still in play, we're going to try to track down where the Union Bays may have run off to." Zachary starts to say when he gets a message from CIC on the results of the latest sim. "If you will excuse me, I need to look into this."

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