ALT #314: He's Got Rhythm
He's Got Rhythm
Summary: Dolly and Milkshake encounter a brand new, musical ECO.
Date: 16/11/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Nope
Greg Phin Ygraine 
Flight Sims — Deck 2 — Battlestar Orion
The Air Wing has access to flight simulators to train pilots off the ground in combat maneuvers and situations that are hard to replicate with regular dogfight practicing and this is their home. A rectangular room, the hatch opens up beside the bank of computers that control the simulations and what is seen by the individuals when training sessions are in progress. The sims are actual cockpits cut out of old frames and installed here to function exactly as the real thing, right down to oxygen plugs for suits. In front of each cockpit, complete with armored glass, are LCD screens that cover most of the front view to the front and above. There are two Vipers, two Predators, and one full-cabin Raptor available.
AWD #314

The Simulator room is empty, lights are dimmed. Well, that's not entirely true as the full cabin Raptor is active, and running, whirring sounds and a voice coming from it, singing an upbeat tuns, though through the Raptor shell it's muffled, the quality of the voice is good. And who in hell would be in there?

Who the hell, indeed? Phin certainly wasn't expecting to find anyone else here, as he opens the hatch and makes his way inside. He definitely wasn't expecting random singing. He approaches the Raptor cabin, but he doesn't do anything to interrupt…whatever's going on inside. He just stands there listening, lips pursed to suppress a chuckle.

Ygraine arrives from the Air Wing Corridors.

Yep, the room is quiet save for the Raptor Simulator, which is active, a voice coming through. As the Raptor Sims ECM suite is going like crazy, the voice singing seem to be coming from within, much to Phins amusement, apparently, the voice is quality, and singing brightly, a snappy sort of tune actually.

Phin has just wandered into the sims, which were unoccupied apart from whoever is singing in the Raptor cabin. It's unclear if even Phin intended to actually use them, since he's dressed in greens, and usually prefers to 'realism' of sim'ing in a flight suit. For the moment he is, indeed, just standing by the Raptor and listening. And trying not to make any noise, lest he alert whoever's inside to his presence. He definitely finds random singing in a duty area out of the ordinary enough to be amusing.

Not far behind Phin is Yggy, amused as hell, who comes up to his shoulder and peers at the control boards to track the progress of the person in the sims. "He ain't bad." she notes with a quiet grin. "The sim score and th'singin'."

He's doing mostly jamming, really, the ECM going nuts as he lays out missile screens and direct Raider jamming, as they listen,

Don't you know I'm still standing better than I ever did
Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid
I'm still standing after all this time
Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind

Seems to be helping him keep rhythm, watching the telemetry.

"He's actually doing something besides the harmonizing in there?" Phin is surprised, and peers over at the control boards Ygraine is looking at. He can tell the scores are in the decent range, even if he doesn't have as much of a baseline for what they should be as the other ECO. "Huh. Yeah. Guess not." Even if he can't help but snigger as whoever's in there hits the chorus.

"Eh." comments Ygraine. "If he's not careful he'll fall in too much with th'rhythm of th'song and the raiders will pick up th' pattern. But ain't he a regular choirboy." A chuckle, and her fingers wiggle a little as if she's tempted to mess with the sim.

Inside, the ECO continues to work the Raptors electronic suite, setting up a communications net around one Raider, and focuses on maintaining that, as the Sim raider fights to get comms back. The singing continues, the 'Battle' sim just a set of preprogrammed ECM drills. It's running a program, yeah, but it's completely mess-able.

"You would not hear something like this in a proper choir," Phin says. But he has to add, grudgingly, "He's decent. If you're into that kind of thing." He does some more chuckling when Ygraine fidgets as if she's going to mess with the controls. He certainly isn't going to stop her. He's enjoying the show.

Ygraine waggles a finger. "Don't be jelly, Phinny." A wriggle of her nose and her fingers to the keyboard as she rapidly types, adjusting the simulator to add another raider which will promptly start pewpewing poor Greg while he's so focused on that one comm net.

A raider blips in and begins firing on the Raptor. Which was not supposed to happen.

Whole thing stops in a pause, as the singing halts, and the telemetry shows.. Oh he's coming out. The side door, opens and pulling the jawpiece from his helmet, he pulls it off, curly black hair, flatish nose and a smile, "Oh. Sorry sirs, there was no one scheduled." He makes a light salute, smiling sheepishly.

Phin rolls his eyes at Ygraine. "Jealous? Please. Whatever. Nicely done." The last part, followed by a snigger, as Ygraine's Raider blasts that Raptor. He clears his throat to stop chuckling when Greg comes out, though he's still grinning. The salute is briskly returned, along with an equally brisk "As you were. And no worries. We didn't book the room proper. I was just coming in to pull my last few scores and look at the schedule before I went off duty. That was…umm…tuneful."

"Why'd ya stop?" is what Ygraine wants to know, offering a salute, though more casually than Phin's crisp one. "Ya coulda dealt with that second raider, ya know."

Greg smiles, "Well, thank you, sir, I've been singing a while." He says to Phin, to Yrgaine, he smiles, "Because someone had altered the program. I thought I was alone. I'm Ensign Greg Coulton, Raptor ECO freshly minted from training. Haven't gotten a.. callsign." He shrugs.

Phin does still rather look like he practices saluting in the mirror at night. "In battle, Ensign, nothing is predictable," he says, doing his best to sound grizzled. With the boyish face, and being at least five years Greg's junior even without it, he doesn't really pull it off. Plus, he's still kind of trying not to chuckle about the program messing. "Lieutenant Phin McBride. Callsign's Dolly. I fly with the Seven-seven-sevens. Lucky Strikes." One of the Viper squadrons aboard.

"Never, ever leave your program unless you're ordered to, or someone shuts down your program outright." Ygraine informs him, serious about it though the corners of her mouth are upturned. "If ya don't want people messin' with it, then add security parameters to th'program." She inclines her head. "El Tee Jay Gee Ygraine Vashti, callsign Milkshake, ECO. Gentlemen Ghosts, best Raptor Squadron on this here ship."

Greg nods to Phin, "Dolly," Then to Ygraine, "Milkshake. I don't mind people messing with it, just wanted to make sure I wasn't getting Raidered out to be kicked off the Sim. I'll shut it down. I was mostly studying up on the latest Countermeasure signatures."

"We just get a load of fresh meat from somewhere?" Phin asks. "I ran into this newb Viper ensign in the mess this morning who practically jumped through the ceiling trying to salute anything that moved. It was way too much energy for before I'd had my coffee." He talks with the world-weariness of someone trying to forget they were doing the same thing a year ago.

Ygraine eyes Greg moment, and simply repeats, albeit kindly, "Don't leave your sim unless you're ordered to or someone shuts it down. If ya need t'be kicked off the sim, they'll put themselves on th'comm and let ya know ya gotta bugger off." A snicker for Phin. "Must be. Feels like we've had a population explosion since retakin' Picon."

Greg smiles a little uncertainly and nods, moving back into the sim to conclude it letting his crop batch number be mused on as he shuts it down. Just making quick work of it, clearing out after his useage of the simulator.

"Not complaining. Could always use more people on the flight line," Phin says. "Maybe it's a sign they want to restock to move on another colony soon." He doesn't sound exactly eager for another major combat action, but the outcome of Picon seems to have made him less pessimistic about their chances in such things. He waits for Greg to finish the sim. He almost looks like he might be expecting more music. But, alas, it doesn't come.

"So where'd we pick ya up, Ensign?" asks Ygraine, seeing as how Greg can solve the mystery for them.

Greg tilts his head as he emerges from the Raptor, "Ah, I was approached after Warday to join up, was on a cruise, Found out I had a Masters in advanced Telecommunications, and after that, they started teaching me how to fly." He shrugs, "I'm still not used to this, but I guess I'll get used to it." He nods, "Came in through the fleet training, just transferred into the Ghosts. Lived on Caprica, Libran born." He shrugs.

"You were on Caprica when the bombs dropped?" Phin can't suppressed a wince. "Well, welcome to the Orion, if I didn't say it already. Ygs…that is, Lieutenant Vashti and I have been with the ship since just a little before the attacks. Our first engagement of the war was over Caprican airspace, actually, when we got word of what was happening and jumped back into colonial space. Couldn't stick around too long that time, though."

"What he said. Ya get a squadron assignment yet? Know who you're reportin' too?" asks Ygraine with casual interest, though something he says catches her attention. "You cross-qual'd?"

Greg nods, "I'm to report to Butch, for Ghost deployment, and no, I'm straight ECO. If I have anything it's a firm grasp of electronic warfare." He smiles, "It's what I used to do before the war, I worked for the CBC, keeping video broadcasts straight for all twelve colonies. These days I just am using that to do the opposite."

"You were in the vid business? Cool." Phin grins broad, which manages to make him look even younger. "Did you work on any shows we'd have heard of?" He nods when Butch and the Ghosts are mentioned, though he just listens to the Raptor folk, as that's not his department.

"Welcome aboard, then. You'll find that Butch is tough but fair." Ygraine lets out a soft huff of air through her nostrils, brows lifting in interest to see how Greg answers Phin's question.

Greg grins at Phin, gesturing to him, "All of them, nono, When you were getting live Pyramid broadcasts, simu-cast for the Grand finals? three hundred cameras covering every angle, all smoothly intercutting and crystal clear. That's what I did." He looks to Milkshake, and nods, "Looking forward to meeting her. I been staying out of the way, set up a bunk, and doing the transfer paperwork."

"Did you actually get to go to the games?" Phin asks, all stoked at this idea. And maybe a little envious. "Seems like a job like that'd be awesome. I mean, all jobs have parts of that suck but…still. Sounds pretty cool." He nods kind of absently as Greg talks about setting himself up on the ship.

"Uh oh. Ya got th'colonies' biggest Stars fan right here, and now you're stuck with him." Ygraine tells Greg gaily, adding, "Watch this." She looks at Phin, amd affects a Virgon accent. "Go Boskirk Reds!"

Greg rubs his nose, smiling to Phin, "Ah, no, not really, the suck part is I worked in a darkened room with screens everywhere. But I got the best view, honestly. I had access to footage and different cuts of the games from the CBC archives." He grins widely to Ygraine and looks back to Phin, "Aw man, you woulda loved that stuff."

"That's because the Silverstars are awesome. Totally would've owned the post-season this year…if it hadn't been for the whole Cylon attacks thing." If Phin has more to say on Pyramid, it's halted by a snorted laugh at Ygraine's Virgon accent. He's going to need a second. "I will pay you hard cubits to do that over the wireless sometime."

"Cubits ain't worth crap these days, pay me in fruit from P and I'll consider it." Ygraine retorts with a laugh of her own. "So how similar are countermeasure systems to comm systems, do ya reckon?"

Greg grins at Phins intensity and laughs a little, looking to Ygraine, "Close enough to jam communications, easiely." He shrugs, "Part of keeping the comms systems straight when they worked like that. Course that's all, 'In the Clear' Transmissions, so the fancy stuff isn't done anymore."

"I'll see what I can come up with," Phin says to Ygraine with a half-smile. He works his way around to the control console, pushing a few buttons and pulling up some system logs. Finally pulling up those scores of his that he supposedly came here for. While doing that he asks Greg, "You do any time in the military before the attacks, or did you go straight from being a civvie to all of this?"

"Comm systems are th'least of your worries. The majority of your countermeasure efforts is usually dedicated to assault on targetting systems." says Ygraine seriously, but seems diffident about whether or not she'll be believed. Again, Phin's question is a good one and she'll wait for the answer.

Greg grins, looking to Phin, "Oooh, I was very Civilian, sir." He winces slightly, "I was a Network Vid nerd working in Caprica city and doing live theatre in my off time." Shrugging, "Was on a cruise ship on Warday, was pulled off it, and actually was in enterance interviews for the Marines when a Naval aviator recruiter pulled me into the Airwing." He nods to Ygraine, "Yep, retraining was interesting, but I had a firm grasp of most of the qualifications." He shrugs.

"You do musicals?" Phin can't help but ask, when live theater is mentioned. "Anyway, yeah. I like my Raiders unable to hit much of anything, which the Ghosts generally provide."

"Now you're never gonna be rid of him." Ygraine tells Greg gleefully.

Greg looks at Phin, "Not these days, no. End of the worlds kinda put a damper on the whole Live Thratre scene." He looks at Ygraine, then back, "Song and dance, choriography…" He looks to Milkshake, "Making it worse aren't I?"

"I just figured, because of the live show we got while you were in the pod," Phin says, before sticking out his tongue at Ygraine. While hitting 'print' on the console. Out his scores come, on a sheet of corner-cropped paper. "I should mosey. Got early shift tomorrow. Actual flight duty, though, which beats knocking around the ship. Good luck in the Ghosts, Coulton."

"He likes to dance his feelings!" insists Yggy in a tone that seems to assure that she's kidding. "I need my rack time too, I got early CAP. Welcome t'the Ghosts, Coulton. I'm sure you'll do fine."

Greg nods to both, "Thanks, sirs, hope to pull my weight. And any more I might need to." He grins, nodding to them.

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