MD #035: Old Fogeys
MD #035: Old Fogeys
Summary: A meeting of old fogeys occurs, no one under the age of 50 is allowed!
Date: Sat 13/May/2017 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None current events
Samtara Stone Penta Petra Knox 
Observation Deck - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
The Obs Deck is one of the more quiet areas on the ship where people can come to get away from the hustle and bustle that goes with the rest of service in the fleet. The front of the room is a very large armored glass window to allow a dominating view of whatever is out ahead of the battlestar. Seats rise up at even levels, plush chairs and couches provided for the crew to relax in. During Condition One an armored plate is lowered down to cover the view and prevent the room from becoming a hazard and sealing it tight.
Tue 28/Nov/2028 IC Date

Seated in one of the lower tiers of the seats that face the large armored glass window that is, currently offering a rather fetching view of Piraeus, Sam is holding a cup of coffee while speaking in a quiet voice with Colt. The seats around and behind them are sparsely populated with the usual mix of officers, enlisted and crew. Being - however temporarily - on station of Piraeus sees the usual rotation of personnel cycling planet-side and back, as time and assignments allow.

Penta is in the back, sipping his coffee. The Observation Deck, being sparsely populated, is usually a good place to escape to when he needs to think - and with the swirl of events, John has been doing a good bit of thinking, lately. Well, that and people-watching. Blame that on his grnadmother, gossip of gossips.

Stone is indeed just sitting and talking in a low voice with Sam. Offering a soft chuckle at something that is said. Eyes moving around and studying most things, as he usually does. Sipping on a cup of coffee of his own.

Tipping her coffee cup to finish it off, Sam rises to her feet, casually appropriates Colt's while she's at it and carries both over to the table with the coffee urn and tops off both before carrying them back. En route, she spots Penta sitting up in the rafters and, after handing Colt his cup, she waves to John with her (now) free hand. "Care to join us down here?" she calls, making sure her voice carries enough without shouting down the room. She could, just to be clear, shout down the room, she IS a mom after all, she learned that skill a long time ago. Really.

Penta gets up from where he's been perched. "Figured I'd leave you two to yourselves, but if you wouldn't mind company, sure." He fills his cup of coffee once he's nearby the coffee urn, taking a quick sip before walking over. "So how have you two been doing?"

Stone does smile and nod as Sam get him a new cup of coffee. Turning to nod to Penta, "Feel free." He assures him. "Ah, well. I can not complain." Or well, he could but he won't. Not really one for complaints. "How about you?"

That gets a smile. "I could whine into next week, but nah. One foot in front of the other kind of day." Week, month…From the look on his normally-ompassive face, survival is a victory today.

With a laugh, Sam settles onto the couch again and shakes her head at Penta, "We don't mind the company. To be fair, it's all still very surreal, to be here again," she admits and curls one hand around the coffee mug she's holding and rests her free hand briefly on Colt's hand. "I know you gentlemen knew each other, before, but it's been rather a long time. Colt, this is John Penta. John, this is my husband Colt. You've met our son, Latif?" She turns slightly toward Colt, "Latif is working under Colonel Petra's command, Intel that is, I meant to convey along a greeting as well."

Stone nods slowly. "It has indeed been a long while." He agrees. A small grin about their son working under Penta, while letting his hand hold Sam's. "Ah, yes. I hope he's behaving?" He offers, a bit of amusement mixed with genuine pride.

Penta raises his eyebrows. "Wait, the Ensign who got attached to our S2 is your son?" Pause. "I will have to resist teasing him with his baby pictures." A grin follows. "He's been doing great work - literally running our planning for the next op."

"I can't say that I'd entirely avoid mentioning his baby pictures," Sam admits with a quiet laugh, sharing a sidelong smile with Colt before turning back toward John with a nod. "I'm glad to hear that all those detail oriented skills of his are being put to a good use. I could make some remarks about how ruthlessly organized he was as a child, but i think you'll find those traits to come in handy. I'm glad that our youngest is safely on Picon and in university. I don't think I could stand to have both of our youngest children serving aboard the same ship."

Stone chuckles and nods, "He always did enjoy those things more than the grunt stuff." He suggests. Another agreeing nod about their youngest being safe on Picon. "Indeed." Then again, both Sam and Colt are on the same ship, which might be fairly similar for the kids. But let us leave that for another time. Stone keeps relatively quiet though as he sips his coffee. However he does offer, "I am sure that we will be working together again soon as well."

"Yeah, well. They don't let me go out into the field much at this point in my career," Penta admits. Cue sadface. "Apparently it looks bad when your battalion CO bites it?" he asks, deadpan with an innocent look on his face.

"I find that I feel very strongly against the idea of both of you being in danger at the same time," Sam admits with a shared glance sidelong. "Oddly enough, I can handle it, to a certain extent, if you're taking turns. It's unreasonable, I know. But it's honest." She then chuckles quietly and shares a brief, wry, grin at John. "You think you're hampered from field duty? Try being in my shoes. I think the powers that be would prefer that I never, ever, leave sickbay, let alone go into the field. Thankfully, Marcus was on my side when we needed to retrieve the pilots," Marcus being Marcus Petra, of course, the TACCO. "And yes, we'd greatly prefer if you didn't bite it, to use the jargon, while boots on the ground. You're supposed to die of old age, like the rest of us, eventually."

Stone nods, "No worries, I'll take them on instead of you." He assures Penta before glancing to Sam. "I know, but I am sure that we will be fine." He tries to calm her down.

The three of them sitting and talking with others moving about around them. Sam and Colt are both sipping on coffee and sitting next to one another with Penta having joined them not long ago.

That gets a smile. "Aw, thanks. But seriously…I'm beginning to understand why everybody I knew who got to this rank got a look like a sad puppy when they saw me lugging a rifle and a pack," Penta admits.

"Because it's more difficult than you imagined it would be, giving the orders instead of receiving them?" Sam wonders with a look that is both understanding and sympathetic aimed at John. "I was never a combat medic, I have a marked preference against getting shot at. That said, I think getting shot makes any physician - surgeon, medic or otherwise - a great deal more empathetic with all future patients. Or maybe just a great deal more understanding," she flicks a glance sidelong at Colt, "and that's not a suggestion that you add more bullet wounds to your chart, just to be clear," a smile forming on her face as she makes this clarification. "I'm sympathetic enough, thank you very much," a quiet laugh chasing her words.

Apparently Petra finished whatever the hell was keeping him on Deck 2 for so long and even he has to do laundry…because when he shows up on the Obs Deck, he's wearing a very faded (and apparently important) pair of sweats that still vaguely make out the typeset of the Virgon military academy. That large tumbler in his hand is PROBABLY full of coffee, from the way he sips at it.

When Knox steps in, his first attention gravitates to the large windows, taking in a deep breath and just letting it go as his walk slows, approaching the front of the area without much concern with who else is here. Familiar voices are enough to drag his attention away to look over at Penta and Stone and Samtara, the three offered a faint smile and a lift of his tumbler in salute, along with a low, "Evening…I guess now I know why I felt a compulsion to come up and watch the planet for a while."

"Aw, so we can't pitch you against a training run and see how you do?" Penta asks Sam with a grin. Then to Petra. "You, me. It's been one of those days."

Its hard to miss Cooper's entrance. He's changed clothes since Petra saw him last. The guy is in a bright yellow t-shirt with a black graphic. It has a Predator dropping a line of bombs all with 'F' plainly displayed on each. He's also wearing khaki board shorts and looking at something on his pad. Seeing the gathering in the corner of his eye, he looks up and stops. Uh oh. That's a lot of rank in one room and he's in an F-Bomb t-shirt. Shitshitshit.

"We're having a meeting of old fogeys," Sam suggests with a grin aimed at Marcus only to laugh outright at John's suggestion, make that challenge. "A chance to breathe fresh air and lug half my weight in gear and ammo, navigate an obstacle course while being shot at? instead of doing paperwork for six hours? Sign me up," she says with a hearty laugh, starting to lift her coffee mug to sip from it and, instead, salutes the arrival of Cooper with it. "And here's another charter member of the old fogey club."

Petra chuckles and ughs softly, but does turn to slowly approach the three, "They aren't going to retire us. They're just going to move this barge to orbit and then declare it a retirement home when they're done with us this time. You do realize that, right?" He glances over his shoulder when Knox is called out, and grins, "Hey Coop. Didn't I just see you like 5 minutes ago? Nice shirt."

"In that case, soon as 'They' aren't paying attention, we're commandeering this 'retirement home' and taking it joy riding through the surrounding sectors. You get to drive," Sam points (gestures with) her coffee mug at Marcus. "You two," she gestures next to Colt then John, "are in charge of making sure we have plenty of weaponry should we bump into anyone unfriendly out there. Coop is in charge of booze and victals. I get the discretionary budget, of course, and am in charge of souvenirs and acquisitions."

Penta eyes Petra. "Hey hey hey, unlike *some* people, I'm still young." He's nearly 50, but he *looks* 20s! Ain't modern medicine awesome? "But sure, I'll help my elders enjoy a joyride in retirement. A heavily-armed joyride." Insert cherubic grin here.

Sam is laughing. That means the Gunnery Sergeant is already wary of a trap lain in his path. He's never heard that sound before and he glances behind him to look for someone with Admirals pins or potentially a grenade sailing at him. Then back to the group. "Only as old as your boots look," he observes carefully as he steps down. Seeing Petra, and the comment to his shirt, he nods sagely. "They're clusterbombs, sir. They are specially designed to seed the barren fields some of my junior enlisted seem to have. I employ them liberally. Its a plain reminder to them."

Petra grins and pauses to take a longer drink from his tumbler before he murmurs, "As long as you can find a souvenir that's single and likes older men, you got a deal, Sam." He laughs at Penta and runs his free hand over his head, then shakes it, the grin spreading back across his face at Knox' comment, "Well, they're going to need all the help they can get."

"If we aren't heavily armed and heavily intoxicated, someone isn't keeping up their share of the bargain," Sam suggests with a mock-stern look aimed around. She snorts out a breath of a laugh at John's Cherubic grin, "mmhmm," is mused before she laughs outright at Marcus's words. "You can't just settle for one of those requirements, I see? Picky picky," and winks at Coop seeing the look on his face. "Even your off duty attire is designed to teach valuable life lessons? Well, alright, I'm changing your assignment when we turn this boat into a retirement home. You're in charge of morale, Coop, and necessary retirement-life-lessons. Like," and again a grin aimed at Marcus, "where NOT to leave your dentures, for one."

Coop looks over to Marcus and shrugs. "Bah. They don't need help, sir. A swift kick in the ass is faster and requires less touchy-feely. The beautiful thing is that I can say every single thing I ever wanted to them that I wanted to say to my kids. I've got seventeen years of boot ready to swing." The guy finally lowers his tablet, still unsure of his ground in this room. People are drinking. Senior people. Looking at Sam, he creaks a smile. "I'm not sure how much Orion The Hunter would appreciate being used to store old people. I might be forced to turn toilets into denture glasses, then let you guys play the lotto on which one is whose." Ahem. "Sir."

"So that's what being a senior enlisted is, huh? All the stored up trauma you weren't allowed to give your kids?" Penta asks, grinning at Cooper. "I think you've got the better deal than me. I'm not allowed to traumatize anyone myself anymore."

Petra tries to cover his mouth with his tumbler as a snort escapes him from Knox' comment, and just grins and looks at him, "You'd do it, too! Gods, if I ever get that old, someone please just take me out and shoot me. Just be merciful about it. I'll thank you from the other side." At that, he just shakes his head and tilts his head back, sucking down a large part of his coffee that might or might not have had something added to it.

Sam exhales another laugh, this one rich with amusement, "Ooh my, yes. 21 years of raising children, and we started off by adopting several teenagers right around the time Latif was born," she gets a distinct gleam in her eyes. "Raising teenagers is akin to getting a masters degree in parenting. While finally understanding the adage about 'This is why some animals eat their young' ". She laughs, a quick - amused - burst at the switcheroo of denture glasses vs toilets. "Make sure that you start at the top, of course, Marcus here is the bravest of the lot. He'll pick first, as the oldest and most likely to lose his teeth first."

"Like I said earlier, Commander, we'll just take you out back like a lame horse. We'll keep it quick. Not everyone wants to play Bobbing for Dentures." Coop gives some assurance. "We need to get you off the boat a little more before that happens, though. Can't put you to pasture without some more good stories to tell, sir." Uh huh. But Sam is talking about kids and Coop looks a little surprised. "I- didn't know you had kids, sir. I can't tell if I should be surprised or not." There's a new regard there. No wonder she was laughing. Kids bring out a new sense of humor. "You two need to come out to visit The Road sometime. You want an Old Fogey group? We do a spread every couple months. Me n' Tabi, Bennett and Lleu, Randy.. All the kids. We kick the kids to the yard about seven or eight and bust out the booze and sit on the porch. Or go riding." He tilts his head. "Its not drunk driving unless you get the horse drunk." That may have happened once or thrice.

Petra groans at Knox, "No, no. Bad, bad things happen when I step off of the boat. Every gods damned time. I'm fine staying behind several inches of hardened capital ship armor." Samtara and Stone's kids are mentioned and Petra even nods slowly in agreement, "In fact, one of their kids even works for me up in CIC. He does a good job of hiding behind his console though, so wouldn't be surprised if you hadn't seen him. The Intel officer working along with Mara." A laugh follows him when he talks about the Old Fogey group, along with a light shake of his head.

"He's right, you know, he gets shot almost every time he's off this ship. Well, to be fair, probably not when there's not an active war on. Civilian life, in theory, just isn't typically that dangerous," Sam eyes Petra as she says this, shifting that same mildly amused glance around to Cooper again and laughing at the surprised look on his face. "The look on your face," she gives a shakes of her head paired with a quiet laugh that is shared, sidelong, with Colt whose sitting quietly alongside and drinking the coffee in the cup he's holding. "We'll take you up on that offer some time. Latif is our second youngest, our youngest is actually a freshman in University, she didn't enlist," and there's honest relief in her tone of voice. "Our four oldest are in their own professions, only one went into a military field at all, aside from Latif and us of course."

"Bad things happen every time I step off the ship, sir," Coop retorts with a laughing snerk. "We'll just dress you as a Private and abuse you so you don't look important." Sagenod. To Sam, he chuckles. "I know. Sorry. Once you have kids its hard to picture the person you used to know with them. But the years do a lot. Its damned good to see you laugh, sir. New sound for me." He holds up a finger, "But don't laugh at the idea of dinner. Bennett makes a mean cornish hen. Meat falls off the bone. Lleu rolls up steaks like its his job. Its mostly fresh game off the lands. Good eatin. Biscuits, gravy, fresh veggies. Not like the crap you get from a grocery store on Caprica. Butter from scratch. And Tabi does a potato salad the kids will fill up on if you let 'em." He shrugs. "Enjoy the sunset, sip some homemade grain, tell stories, its a good time."

Petra ehs and holds up a finger, "I got shot at getting picked up! Wasn't even a war on yet. Sorta." He waggles his brows at Samtara, then slowly sagenods at Knox, "You pick the date and I will find some of the best single-malt I can find, from before the war ever started, for the occassion. We will all get rightly plastered from the smoothness." He even lifts his tumbler up as if offering a toast, "And well, with that said, I'm sure there's an ensign wondering why the frak this dryer is sitting there unemptied, so before I put someone in an awkward position, I had better be going. The rest of you…" He points at everyone else, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." And with that said, appears to be ready to turn to head back to the barracks and laundry.

"That actually sounds lovely. Colt never really acquired any non-flammable skills in the kitchen, save for toast. He's very good at toast. Oh, and coffee along with any meal that involves putting cold cuts between two slices of bread," Sam remarks with a grin as she shakes her head at Cooper. "I actually had to take several cooking classes myself, as - and who'd have thought - children don't actually like pre-packaged meals. Even if they're actually tailored for their specific dietary intake," again there's humor in her tone of voice and she aims a look of surprise at Coop. "You've never heard me laugh before?" sounding incredulous and startled then pensive for a moment before she gives a slow nod. "Yes.. I don't imagine you would have, no. I'm sorry for that, and seriously, it sounds wonderful," and is glancing toward Petra's way as he's taking his leave. "That's a remarkably short list that I require in writing!" Sam calls after Petra with another laugh as he turns to head back to the barracks and, apparently, the laundry along the way.

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