AWD #016: Max Power
Max Power
Summary: Umm…probably not. But an ensign can dream. Phin comes to Cole about mission-y and volunteer-y things.
Date: 22/01/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Pimp My Air Wing and others
Cole Phin 
Ready Room — Deck 2 — Battlestar Orion
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.
AWD #16

Cole has taken up shop in a corner of the Ready Room, commandeering one of the desks to take care of his daily paperwork. His cheek is propped up on the heel of one hand, as he goes through a report making sure all the i's are dotted and the t's are crossed. Enthusiastic? Not entirely, but he seems to be taking his task to heart.

Phin spent first shift on Alert status, but his time of sitting in a Viper and waiting around is up for the day. Rather than immediately going off duty, he heads to the Ready Room. In search of superior officers. He clears his throat as he comes in, so he won't take Cole by surprise. "Excuse me, Captain? You got a sec?"

Cole's eyes tick up as Phin clears his throat, which is all the better as Cole isn't entirely used to hearing that particular rank in conjunction with his name. "Dolly," gets lobbed back in greeting, as he lifts his head from it's prop. "I've more than a second, so claim all you need. Just finishing up shift reports." Which he's all the happy to be pushing aside in favor of one of his pilots.

"Anything interesting?" Phin asks of the shift reports as he pulls up a chair. "I mean, anything we should know about. That you can…actually tell us about."

Cole smirks, one corner of his mouth ticking up before the other. "If you didn't have to go weapons hot today, then no, nothing interesting. All birds, pilots, and their parts are accounted for. So it was a good day, all things considered." Like the 'splodey of the Colonies. "We've got a few special projects brewing, though. One especially I'd like you to consider. But you first."

"All things considered, yeah," Phin echoes, a little wryly. "Yeah. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I heard the D-CAG was looking for volunteers for…stuff." He is plainly in search of more information on the stuff. "I'd like to put in, if I can. I figured some of it'd be limited to the more senior officers, just in terms of skills and stuff, but if there's anything more I can be doing, like to be doing it, y'know?"

"Stuff, yes. Uh…" Ari moves some things around until he comes across the metal covered hexagonal folder he's looking for. He drags it in front of him and flips it on it's piano hinge. "Here. Operation: Masquerade Ball. We're looking for volunteers who are willing to rotate out their identifying markers on their birds, as well as the comms. Basically, the idea is to confuse enemy operations. The Master Chief will change squadron numbers, plane markings, and comm tags."

"Sure, I'm game," Phin volunteers. Right away. Plainly not really giving much thought as to what he's volunteering for, because questions only come after he's done it. "You mind if I ask…umm, why? I mean, is the idea to make the toasters think we're from another ship or…?"

"Ideally, we need to make our numbers look larger then we are. We need to make our electronic signatures harder to track, and we need to make them believe they weren't as successful as we know them to be." Of course, some of this is pure conjecture on Ari's part, but he tries to sound pretty damn convincing. "That, and who doesn't like to play pretend?"

"Electronic signatures?" Phin frowns. It's more thoughtful than concerned, though. "You mean, like, switch out the ID transponders in the actual birds? What if we get shot down? Or, like, have to ID ourselves to another colonial ship or something? I mean, you can say you're anybody you want, y'know?"

"I imagine there will be safe fails, but your concerns are noted and I'll relay them to the DCAG. I'm sure there are still details to be worked out. But look at it this way, you could go from being 'Dolly' to 'Max Power' or something along those lines. At least for a raid or two." Cole enters in Phin's name with the other volunteers for this particular operation, then uses the eraser of his pencil to scratch the side of his nose.

Phin half-smiles. That idea might, just might, have served as incentive to volunteer for something like this. "If Max Power's what I gotta do, sir. Think I can handle it." He nods. "Cool. I'm assuming they won't be changing up things, like, right away, every time we go out? Or is that up to the D-CAG, and the Chief?"

"Short answer is: I don't know. Seems like a lot of effort to go through to be constantly changing. But I'm merely tasked with finding volunteers, and then the project is being handed off to Major Bennett as the project point of contact. Thank you." Cole says earnestly.

Phin grins, and nods. "Understood, sir. I'll bug the Major for further intel." Not that he takes off yet. The ensign still looks like he's chewing on something, and his smile fades as quick as it comes. "Sir…I've been thinking. About Leonis. About…what the Cylons are supposedly doing on it." The prison and all. "Doesn't it seem…I mean, don't you think it's weird? Like, they just hard-core glass some places so nobody can survive, and pick people up and hold them on others?"

How does Cole answer that? He rubs his hand over his mouth and down his chin while he seems to give it thought. "Why blanket the colonies with wide spread destruction, but then take survivors as prisoners? Shit if I know, Phin. It's not that it doesn't make sense, it's that it doesn't make sense to /us/. Not yet. But we're going to find answers, that I assure you. But we're just a tiny speck against their forces. We've got to gain some ground, and that's going to take time. And precious patience."

"My degree was in military history, back when I went through the Academy," Phin says with a little shrug. "I had this professor, an officer who'd helped out during the Reconstruction on some of the worlds. He used to talk about the POWs from the war…the first war. What they knew about them. I guess they didn't do it often. I mean, why would they, right? They're robots. He said most of them were just, like, holding pens. Get people off the streets so they couldn't fight, or so the toasters could deal with them later. But he said some people the Cylons captured…they just disappeared. Like, thousands of them. I've been thinking about that and…" It is clearly creeping him out, though he certainly doesn't say that. He clears his throat. "Right, sir. Patience. Not like there's much else we can do right now."

"Not much we can do, but be patient. But I still encourage you to ask questions and make observations just as you have. The more angles we can look at a situation, the better chance we have of finding the right one to take." And speaking of, Phin's recount of the First Cylon War and the internment camps makes a little wrinkle form between Janitor's eyebrows. Brain gears, they are a-turning. "I was a business major." Fat lot of good that degree is good for now, unless the Cylons are looking to maximize their earning potential.

"Econ kicked my ass," Phin says wryly. "Questions. Right. Will do, sir. Though I don't know if I'm doing much more than going around and around about stuff in my head. I hope we get back to the colonies soon. Get those people away from the toasters. I mean…Piraeus can take plenty of refugees, right? It's a whole planet, and the Cylons still don't seem to know where it is. Or you'd think they'd have torched us, too."

"And hopefully it'll stay that way. We're doing everything we can to preserve that. And everything will be done to recover survivors." No doubt one is mutually exclusive of the other, but Cole isn't going to expound on that, it seems.

Phin's brows arch. Those two things do seem mutually exclusive. But the ensign certainly isn't going to point that out. "Right. Let me know if there's anything I can do to pitch in, sir. In the meantime, I'll see the Chief of Major Bennett about the masquerade." He stands. "You really think they'd call me Max Power?" Gods, he's serious.

"You know what you can do? Make me look good this weekend at the paintball match, and help kick the collective ass of the CMC. And then the next day, swing an axe or haul a log for a good cause. The Chaplains would appreciate it. Do that? And I'll put in a good word for Max Power with the Chief." Cole gives Phin a smirk.

"I was actually thinking the D-CAG was viewing this paintball thing as some sort of bizarro-morale tool," Phin admits wryly. "Knock us down so he can build us back up? My brother and I might look pretty much the same, but the CMC's made sure he can kick my ass. "Anyway, I'll do my best, sir." As for the temple. He's quiet a beat, like he's thinking on it. "Yeah. I'll be there."

"None of that is a direct order, by the way." Ari is quick to qualify. "And should you and your brother decide to switch places, in some awesome Saturday Afternoon Special sort of way, sabotage the frak out of them." Janitor can't help but give a little cough of laughter at that sudden idea. "Alright, alright. Get out of here. I want to finish this report before I make Major."

"I know, sir," Phin says quickly, as to orders. Or the lack them as direct. The bit about his brother just makes him laugh. "Was that, like, a command suggestion? Ha. Y'know…" He actually looks thoughtful. "If our COs were OK with it, it might be cool. See if people could tell. And…umm…well. He'd be kinda useful to you guys." More useful than Phin. It goes without saying.

Cole pages Zachary and Phin: Alright. We've got a plan. We're going to switch Phin for Bear, and Phin is going to sabotage the CMC in paintball…

"Alright, alright. Out, out. Dismissed, Ensign." All this is said with a laughter just beneath the words, as Cole waves Phin towards the hatch.

Phin scampers off.

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