AWD #041: Run Silent, Run Deep
Run Silent, Run Deep
Summary: Phin picks Ward's brain, sort of.
Date: 16/02/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Plenty of Ideas; The Abyss Beyond the Line
Phin Hektor-Ward 
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.
Sat Feb 16

Phin is knocking around the Ready Room, sitting at one of the desks in the front row with a yellow notepad open. Mostly he's reviewing stuff he plainly scribbled down ages ago, but occasionally he makes a new notation of something-or-other. He's been trying to get some face time with a Raptor pilot for what he kind of cryptically described as 'to bounce some ideas off of.' Lucky Ward.

No appointment was made to see Ward. In truth, he's been something of a ghosts in these weeks since the attack on the Colonies. He flies his missions, sits at the back of the ready room during briefings and generally eats by himself during chow time. There are only a handful of people aboard who can claim to have heard two words from him that weren't somehow related to work. So it is strange to see him in the Ready Room now when he doesn't need to be, face scrunched up a little as though he's thinking hard about something he doesn't want to be thinking about. He doesn't even look up at Phin as he walks by, moving towards an unoccupied seat.

Phin has been fairly social since his entry into the Air Wing some months ago. Superficially, at least. He goes to the bar and eats in big groups of pilots during meals and all that. He certainly hasn't made any attempt to interrupt whatever solitude Ward was going for. Though he seems to know the man's face well enough to offer a, "Hey, Dropout" as the man passes.

"Huh?" Ward asks, as though suddenly roused from a very intense session of introspection. He blinks at Phin for a moment, putting names to faces in his head and setting down in the chair he has chosen. At last he speaks, though they are just a lame, "Oh, hi."

"Hi," Phin replies in kind. He seems to register that the man might not quite know his name, though it doesn't seem to terribly bother him. He supplies, "Uh, McBride. Dolly, Dolls, whatever." He also seems to register the intension session of introspection. "Umm…you need the room? I was just going over some stuff. Not sure I'm getting anywhere with it."

"I know," Ward says quietly, picking at the paint on the edge of the little desk the chair comes equipped with and staring at it keenly. The question prompts a shake of his head, "No, you're fine. They're playing a drinking game back at the bunks and I'd rather be here."

Phin nods, with some amount of understanding. "They probably wouldn't mind if you didn't play. Or…wouldn't notice if you just stayed in your bunk with some music on or something." This sounds like a tip as much as anything else. "But…yeah. That kind of thing can get kind of stupid. It's not bad in here. It's quiet between shifts."

"That's not really the issue," Ward says, mostly to himself, before he goes back to picking at the paint chips on the little desk. He looks up at the Ready Room, as though only just then realizing where he is, "Yeah. It's quiet."

"Yeah. It's nice." There's a beat where it seems like Phin might ask what the issue is, but he doesn't. He just skims over his notes again, then looks back up at Ward. Or in his general vicinity. He's sort of thoughtfully frowning into space. "Can I ask you something? You ever flown in somewhere where…like you, didn't want to be found? Like…stealth or something. In and out, y'know?"

"Yeah, Caprica when they bombed it," Ward says flatly, not missing a beat as he does so, "I'd say we were pretty keen not to be seen by those Basestars when we dropped in there to do recon. Had to run all kinds of interference to stay off their DRADIS."

Phin nods some to that. "Yeah. Like that. I mean, that's kind of the line I was thinking down, at least." He exhales long, balancing his pencil on its tip and spinning it between fingertips. "I had this…I don't if it was an idea, exactly. But it was kind of…like a thought. And I mentioned it to the D-CAG, and he asked me to expand it into, like, an actual plan. Or at least, like, a more full-formed idea. I'm trying to figure out how to do it without basically…making it a suicide mission…type thing." It's kind of a joke, but kind of not.

"I could probably help more if I knew what the idea was," Ward replies snappishly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose and immediately sighing, "Sorry, that was rude of me. Long day. Tell me about it, I'll help if I can."

Phin blinks, momentarily abashed. But he just nods replies more straight, "It occurred to me we'd never really done any recon of the area by the Armistice Line. And over the other side. What was the Armistice Line. It's not anymore. No Armistice now, right?" He shrugs. "And the thing is, that's obviously where the Cylons have been upgrading themselves over the last forty years, and probably where they've got whatever facilities and stuff they used to do it. Anyway. The D-CAG seemed to think it was worth pursuing. One problem is trying to figure out where to start. I asked one of the tactical officers to run some data points on maps and stuff to try and narrow it. She's still working on that. But like flying over there…it'd have to be done in a Raptor. I was just wondering how you'd go about handling something like that?"

"I'd want a good ECO," Ward states flatly, still picking at the paint on the desk and shaping the little exposed area he is creating into the beginnings of a W, "Not a combat ECO. Combat ECOs know how to jam up enemy systems but they don't have to be quiet about it. It'd be someone who can make the ones and zeros in that ECM suite dance. Beyond that, maybe you'd have to kit the Raptor out differently. It could probably stand to be lighter, make less waves on the DRADIS. Way I see it, if you're sending a Raptor into what could essentially be Cylon Central then little armor or a lot isn't going to make a difference. Maybe a big cloud of debris to hide in."

Phin nods along with that, slow, like he's doing his best to not just take it in but take it somewhere in his head. "I think I follow. Don't outfit it for combat, because whatever it runs into, it's not going to be able to handle. Light and fast, and ready to get the frak out as light and fast as possible if things went to shit."

Ward shrugs his shoulders, "My point was that if it gets discovered, there's nothing it can do. No point wasting a combat loadout on something that won't make a scratch in the end. But yeah, that's the basic idea of it. Would help if we had some of that DRADIS-jamming paint or whatever the conspiracy nuts keep saying the military has in top secret development. Maybe you should raid Picon."

Phin chuckles. "What, the stuff we paint the black Raptors with when they fly over rooftops at night and spy on people's brains? Shit. This chick I dated on Leonis - civvie - had this friend who talked about stuff like that. I tried to pretend I thought he was joking. I think she just thought he was kind of entertaining. She treated people like 'new experiences' sometimes." He shrugs. That's getting off point. "But, yeah. I'll run it by the Deck, see if they can outfit a Raptor that lean, and if they think it'd work. Thanks."

"No problem," Ward replies with another shrug of his shoulders, finishing off the W that he's etched into the desk's paintjob, "If I think of anything else, I'll tell you."

"Thanks," Phin says. "I appreciate it." He seems to mean it. He flips his yellow pad closed, doing some nominal gathering up of this things, though he doesn't bail from the Ready Room just yet. "Still feels bizarre, doesn't it? To think about what we were doing a few months ago. Where we are now. Feels like longer ago than it is."

"You're telling me," Ward murmurs, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face tiredly, "I haven't had a decent night's sleep since."

"Dreams're what'll get you," Phin mutters. Like he's not quite aware he said it aloud.

"Haven't had one of those, wouldn't know," Ward says quietly, folding his arms on the desk and laying his head down on them like a pillow.

"Lucky you," Phin murmurs. He finally pushes himself into a standing position, and makes to depart the Ready Room. "Anyway…thanks again. Later man." He doesn't exactly wish Ward a good night, but he will dim the lights on his way out if the pilot's head stays down.

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