AWD #052: Possible Points
Possible Points
Summary: Rozzen delivers spots of interest - such as they're known - beyond the Armistice Line to Phin.
Date: 27/02/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Plenty of Ideas; The Abyss Beyond the Line; Run Silent, Run Deep
Phin Rozzen 
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.
Wed Feb 27

Phin made some time to meet with Captain Rozzen this afternoon. Which for an ensign - even with CAP and Alert shifts and training and the various other things that fill his day - isn't so terribly difficult. He's in the Ready Room already, sitting at a desk, scribbling in a notebook. Or doodling. He might be doodling. He's early, so he has the time for it.

The ubiquitous folder is with Moira, today tucked up high under one arm. She's perhaps a little frazzled around the edges in a way that speaks to an already-long day, wisps of hair escaping her ponytail and creases set in at her knees from time at a desk. Still, the look she scans about the room upon entering is alert enough. She paints on a polite little smile upon spotting Phin and moves towards him. "Good afternoon, Ensign."

"Captain. Sir." Phin stands, and swots off one of those set-your-watch-by-it salutes they drill at the Academy. He's still not far enough out of it to have stopped practicing those things in the mirror. He'll wait until she releases him from it. "There's coffee, if you want. I made coffee." And so he did. There's some in the pot. He's got a cup himself. A blue ceramic cup, Argentum Bay Silverstars Pyramid team logo on it.

"As you were," is a murmur that's no less crisp for its reflexiveness. Moira continues on to his table in order to drop off her folder with a soft scuff of paper, but her eyes bounce from his logo mug and turn to find the coffee. "That sounds wonderful, thank you." Tucking back strayed hair with a press of fingertips as she moves to grab a cup, her eyes wander briefly to the kill board hung in the room. "How have you been holding up? It's been a relatively quiet week for your group, hasn't it?"

"Relatively so far, sir," Phin says. Eyes flit to the kill board when he sees her attention to it. "We're awaiting orders on what our next move'll be with the deal on Picon. And flying patrols, some recons and exploratory stuff. Can't say I want to complain about a little quiet. I know it won't last." His own tally is nowhere near one of the bigger dog jocks in the squadron, but he's iced the odd toaster since Warday.

Perhaps she notices, perhaps she doesn't. She's wearing the same polite smile when she turns back to rejoin the pilot. "No," is, however, agreed with a touch of empathetically rueful warmth. She leans a hip sideways against the table upon her return and leaves her folder neglected for the moment. Instead she tips an absent study over Phin's features, particularly where that black eye used to be, as she takes a testing sip of her coffee. "You haven't had any more troubles regarding your twin?"

Whether she notices or not, it's not something Phin calls attention to in discussion. Even while they're both looking at it. He takes a sip of coffee, meeting her gaze when she regards him. His expression is polite, but it doesn't give away much. "No, sir. My brother hasn't either, from what he's told me. Whole thing was idiotic, really. I mean, if you think about it." He might show a little anger about it then, but it's kept well under the surface. "If the toasters are smart enough to have clones or…whatever they have, why would they put two on the same ship? Doesn't make any sense, logically."

Rozzen listens with an attentive scan of eyes across his expression. Her own smile tugs into a deeper curl at one edge. "Perhaps not." She takes another short sip, fingertips carfully balancing the top of her mug, before letting the warm curve of ceramic settle more snugly in one palm. But, the shift of her features says. "Is it the Cylons, here, we're expecting to act logically?" It's a musing question. "Or the people on this ship?"

"The Cylons, I guess," Phin mutters wryly. "People aren't really good at logic a lot of the time." He drinks some more coffee. "So. Anyway. Thanks for taking the time today. You have any ideas about those coordinates we talked about awhile ago?" Pause. "Across the Arm Line? Like I said then, I know it's a long shot."

His answer tips Moira's shoulders into a slight lift, a sort of resigned gesture for the truth he speaks. She moves easily enough onward from it, a nod dropping her eyes to the folder she brought. With her mug curled into one hand, her other fingers are free to coax the cover open. "There are a few sectors that I think may hold some promise. Some places where the oldest scans indicate presence of raw materials, others where there've been possible anomalies. I've grouped the map references, but…" A fingertip touches on the three groupings of text before she tilts a look back up. "It is rather a shot in the dark."

Phin leans forward, elbows on the table, to have a look at the papers she's brought. He can't help but show a touch of earnest fascination about points of reference beyond the line. "Yeah. Right. I mean, any venture out there's going to be kind of heart of dark territory stuff. This is really good, though. I mean, it's places to start, which is better than nothing. Are there any in particular you'd recommend over others, sir?"

It's with a sideways glance that Moira watches his interest, her own manner still rather reserved. Phin's question has her taking a longer breath in consideration as she wraps both hands back around the mug as if to better leech the warmth from it. "Most likely, a first jump will not yield anything in the immediate region. Best to choose something that will leap us in the direction of the most broadly applicable lighttime. That way we'll have more updated data for subsequent jumps." She nods towards the paper. "Perhaps the third or fourth of that first grouping, then."

Phin nods, sitting back in his chair. Perhaps noting her sideways look, he tries to maintain good posture. And reserve. Which he pulls off quite well when he's putting his mind to it. "Right, Captain. Third or fourth. I suppose one's as good as another, in something like this. No real way to separate which would yield more useful information, or which would be more dangerous. We'll probably leave it up to whichever pilot we send, once they've had a chance to study the points." A pause and he asks, "Do you think it's worth doing? Even if it probably won't yield much right away."

"It's largely a roll of the dice," Moira agrees. "So unless you can find someone with an uncanny talent for premonition." The neutral statement is capped with another vague shrug that helps bring her mug back to her lips. "The ECO," is an offhand comment. Most of her focus is upon his later questions. "I think that, if you have the time to make them, it is never a bad idea to have plans in place. While there're potentially downsides, I do think there's value in having a better understanding of what's currently a blind spot to us."

Her comment about ECOs get a half-smile from Phin. "Closest the Wing's got to prophets, sir. No doubt. Anyway. Yeah. That was my thinking. Or part of it. We're scrambling to figure out what's going on with the colonies. Which, that should totally be priority. No doubt. Sometimes I feel guilty, back here on Piraeus while the people surviving back there are under Cylon pressure like, constant. But they could be doing pretty much whatever they want over what used to be the Arm Line, and we'd have no way of knowing."

"And if we don't go out and look, there may never be anyone else who can," Moira takes up his thought with a nod. "I'd rather not be surviving Cylon pressure here on Piraeus, just for the sake of less guilt." And on that wry addition, the Captain will shift her weight up out of her lean and back to her feet. "The bigger picture must be taken into account, and this may be a crucial element. Was there anything else?" Besides the kindly supplied coffee of which she takes another mouthful.

"True enough, sir," Phin agrees, about the lack of Cylons on Piraeus probably being worth a little guilt. "No. I don't think so. Oh. Yeah. There was one more thinking. I was thinking before we ventured into Armistice territory, the recon might start by the line itself. In that area where we encountered the Reese and…whatever was up with it." He still doesn't know, but it still clearly creeps him out.

Rozzen lifts her brows slightly in receptiveness for the one more thing. The mention of that ship has her flickering her own reaction by way of a slight press of her lips. "It probably has as good of chances of being convenient to their position as it does of being deliberately chosen to throw us off." That said, "it should make a decent enough start point. That fourth coordinate, in particular, may make for a suitable pair with that location."

Phin nods to that. "Well. Place to start, if nothing else. Thanks very much, sir. I'm sure this must've taken a lot of work, and it's not like you guys don't have a ton and a half of other stuff to do."

"You're quite welcome. It's a good idea, and I hope you have luck with it. Do let me know if there's anything else I can help with." She starts to make her way out, but doesn't do so before turning a look over her shoulder and lofting the mug that she's taking with her. "And thanks for the coffee. Good hunting, Ensign."

"Thanks, sir." A parting salute, and Phin lets her go.

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