AWD #274: There's a Schedule for Everything
AWD #274: There's a Schedule for Everything
Summary: Devlin and Kostas catch up on events while the flyboy's refueling and the marine wrestles with paperwork.
Date: 7/Oct/2013
Related Logs: none
Devlin Kostas 
Operations Offices - Crandall
Home to the 33rd Tactical Fighter Wing and 379th Air Expeditionary Wing, the operations facility is sprawling on the base, the connected builds slammed up against the rear of the hangars and apron. With a plain interior, white walls are scuffed here and there from worn passage with running pilots or errant clerks with carts. The carpet threadbare and in desperate need of replacing. The hallways are utilitarian with doors going up and down both sides and simple plastic placards pointing the way to room numbers or specific areas or units. Old squadron plaques line the walls, each etched with names and years. The facility is minimalistic and not meant for comfort save for the fake potted plants to try to soften the interior and expense is definitely cut where it is not needed. There is a main room to the buildings, serving as something as a CIC and called 'Operations Control', with all the central scheduling, flights incoming and staff that were once here still etched on the dry erase, filing cabinets lining one wall.

Squadron ready rooms double as locker rooms for the aircrews and their gear, metal-faced wooden lockers on each wall with large gear tables down the center dominate the rooms. Down the hall slightly is the Alert Facility which doubles as the break room. It has a vending machine that is years old, a busted refrigerator that is not working and a sink with a microwave. There are a few couches and chairs around an old television with a stack of movies. Communal beds at the rear of the room are provided for those on alert duty, but no privacy is afforded here.

AWD #274

It's the graveyard shift, though the war zone being what it is, it's not truly dead, really. The marines and other crew are working doubles or doubling up, so rack time is precious; as evidenced by more than a few snores rattling through the otherwise quiet operations center from the bunks in another part of it. There's a few folks monitoring the radios of the patrols and commmunications with Orion and other units. Kostas has her feet propped up on one of the tables, her helmet weighing down a stack of paperwork, a clipboard on her lap with more. She scratches painfully away at whatever she's working on, scowling down at it. There's a battered mug of….coffee? on the table next to her helmet though. Where'd these frakkers get brewed coffee?

Devlin's been run ragged from being a dual-qual'd pilot and bear. So it is that after returning for the briefest of sleeps that was near entirely wasted by the insatiable curiosity of another regarding skinjobs, he finds himself bleary eyed and trying to suck back enough black drink between refuelings on the airbase. Wandering about he settles against a wall for support, more for himself than the wall needs. He tosses his hand through his hair and rubs at his eyes, attempting to wake himself up in more ways than one. It takes a moment, perhaps several sips at his own steel mug before he looks around and notices that he's not alone in this small section. "Paperwork. As if we didn't already have such limited time to find sleep," Devlin states to Kostas, shaking his head and laughing with a sort of desperate laugh, "That reminds me that I still have several stacks to do when I get back to the Orion." He sighs at the reminder and looks about to leave before he shakes his head, "How are things with your unit? Heard you got into a scuffle not that long ago?"

The Canceronian's brows are knit tightly with the telltale signs of a headache brewing, but she seems content to put her writing utensil and clipboard aside for the moment in favor of her coffee. It's not even half done, the paperwork, and her handwriting is…well…probably what one would expect from the accent. She runs her hand through her clipped hair, and smiles up at the flyboy. "Yeah. Took out a One, a couple'a Sixes, and a few canners. Not a bad haul. Th' ECO in my bird got shot ta shit though, heard she's ok later." She slurps her coffee. "Hopefully whatever it is helps with the big show, but we didn't fuck it up 't least." She rocks back in her seat, the two legs remaining on the floor squealing slightly in protest. "You have an okay trip down?"

"Oh it was a trip down, we're gaining ground, or so it seems, so there's less things to dodge on the way down, but it's still not first class, or luxury, for that matter. But yeah, got down here in one piece, the bird's just getting fueled and then I'm off again." Devlin replies and then nods to the coffee in his hand, sipping it as if to prove a point, "Now the trick is to just stay awake through the flight. It's getting harder, but that's what they say always happens, always just a little darker before the dawn. Heard about my companion, hope she's doing alright, I was only able to snag a copy of the report on the way out as I was already on my way, but I'll check in when I get back to the ship." He sighs and sips some more of the black stuff, "Sounds like we're cleaning house though, you did well with all that damage to the canners, though if you haven't heard, we've got a skinjob up on the ship again, found her rocketing from a Viper, apparently this one's a celebrity or something, got herself a whole fanclub up on the ship."

"Oh?" That perks Kostas' interest. "So the Wing got their own skinjob, huh? They jealous've ours?" Something though makes her frown. "Listen, Durnst…be careful 'round that one, 'k? We had an infiltrator, tryin' ta pose 's one 'f ours. Lucky for us, Knoxy got a few ID scars. The other one didn't, an' it's how he spotted, but almost too late. Ain't sayin' th' other is a fake, but…ya never know. Now I'm tryin' to figure how ta keep *mine* safe, along with all th' rest 'f my folks." She shakes her head slightly. "Those fraggers though—that's a shitload 'f trouble if it's a fake and she go loose."

Devlin nods as he hears Kostas' words, "Aye, there's some stuff to be said about this one, apparently its older rendition was never given a formal tribunal, died in transit, so this one is under lock and bar. To be brigged probably till they figure out if she can be trusted, or not. What you say will make it likely that such things will be tougher for her to get out of there, so we will have to see, but I will take that information to my superior." Devlin sighs, another task put in his lap that already seems way too full to him. "We'll work at keeping them safe, one hour at at time, it's good you deal with the infiltration, I have heard horror stories of the ones that didn't." He blinks and rocks on his feet for a moment until the wall catches him once more, "Thanks for the heads up. So when are you headed back out again?"

"Sent up a report about it after it happen," Kostas says. "See? Knew I was right that brass prolly wipe their asses with 't instead of readin' it. You got MPs on 'er, right? Not everyone got th' bad enought ta cap someone they know—or who looks like it. Don't think I'd have a problem with Knox, figure he a marine, he'd rather be safer'n sorry too. Sure hope they don't figure out how ta recreate scars an' shit. We fucked five ways ta Sunday if they do." She slurps again. "Couple 'f days, then it's the main event. Luckily the squad didn't take too much losses, just a few dings and Knox gettin' shot in the head, but he's got a fuckin' thick enough skull might do him some good." She grins. "Just like old times, with more folks. Feel like I can breath down here a hell of a lot better than…" she jerks a thumb skyward, probably indicating Orion.

Devlin nods, his smile sliding onto his lips at Kostas' question about the MP's, "Yeah, there's several and she's brigged up good, I think they learned their lesson after the last issues they had, at least they seemed more ready and alert than they usually do." He leans back and lifts his chin to the ceiling, a crack happening that was most likely his neck vertebrae finding relief. "Yeah…" he muses aloud, this time focusing on counting ceiling tiles instead of looking at the marine, "There's a lot of people that prefer the feel of solid ground beneath their feet. It's a change and a challenge to get used to the vastness of space and to rely on others to keep you safe while you're up there. Sitting in a ship feels more like a cage unless you're at the controls or manning the guns." Devlin seems to relate, "A flying coffin at times…" A sigh and he drops his head to look at her with a sad smile, "But we do what we gotta do, right? We're bringing humanity back from the brink of genocide, so what's a little claustrophobia in the grand scheme of things?"

Kostas laughs, staccato and brief, but it's not harsh or mocking. Inclusive even. "Aw, hell no. It ain't that. Before War Day, I was always on some ship 'r another." She unzips a utility pouch, drawing out a smaller bag, opening it, and tossing it on the table like an invitation. It's full of an assortment of (individually wrapped) small candies. Fruit, mints, even some different spices. From the looks of it, it looks like scavenged or otherwise liberated stuff, and for quite some time too, based on the collection. She plucks one of the cinnamon ones, unwrapping it, the sharp spice probably detectable even from where Devlin's standing. "Up there, I gotta be an officer most've the time. Down here, except now and then, I just gotta be a Marine." She pops the candy into her mouth, cheek pocketing it, and grinning up at him. "Well, hopin' we ain't too close to th' edge of genocide. Sure hate ta see the military put in a fucking schedule too. Shiiiit." She's joking, almost ready to laugh, when it occurs to her that it might not be so far off. And then she scowls.

Devlin's fingers tap lightly on his mug as he watches the candies make their way out onto the table and he chuckles, "Fair enough, don't mind if I do." He seems to lighten up and his state of wakefulness increases slightyl, enough so that when he pushes off the wall he doesn't teeter. He makes it to the table and selects a peppermint, or at least that's what he's hoping it is as he pops it directly from the abused wrapper and into his mouth. Sucking on it for a moment he inhales sharply and lets the bite wake him, "Ah, yeah, that's nice, thanks!" His exclamation is rather forward but he grins and sets his mug down on the table across from her and pulls up a chair, "Probably shouldn't sit, but I've got a few more minutes, I think," he nods at her scowl, "Exactly…so let's just make sure we win, right?"

Kostas lifts her mug, offering a toast. "I'll drink ta that, even if it's just shitty coffee instead of a beer," she declares, winking at him. "Eh, might as well. The chairs 'round here don't get too much polishin' so won't harm nothin'. I won't tell." She takes a sip of her coffee, at least it's not super uncompatable with cinnamon, right? She doesn't even wince. "So where you at, before shit went down, Durnst?" she asks curiously.

Devlin laughs and raises his mug at her offering of a toast, "Well at this point, I think this black substance is gold in my cup, it's the only thing keeping me functional these past few weeks. I don't think I've had a beer since the last time I was on Sheridan, it's been too hectic… no time.." He sighs and downs a good mouthful of the ichor before nodding again, "Before shit went down, I was on Picon, fisnihed up my training, out of Academy, and was running patrols for the sector. Keeping it pretty steady eddy and rather boring, but it seemed like a reasonable way to spend out my term. Who would have thought that my wish for a little more excitement would have brought what it did…" he blinks, "No I don't blame myself for the war day, if that's what you're thinking, but man, I do sometimes regret thinking I needed action when I last blew out my candles." He laughs.

"Wonder if my ol' lady thinks the same way." Kostas smiles. "Flew in here for her retirement ceremony, then it all went to hell. She wasn't too happy about retirin', now she ain't." There's a gleam of pride in Kostas' grin as she says that. "Met a lot of folks who was down here. Kinda funny how so many'f us only meetin' now. Though I was mostly out in th' field, I guess." She slurps at her coffee again. "Here's ta hoping we toss 'em off this rock eventually. Though I guess holding it good's another thing. And then we get ta do it all over, ten more times. Or so. Ain't heard a lot about what happened elsewhere."

Devlin nods and laughs with a sort of bemused smile playing over his lips, "Ah, well it's good that you got family here as well. I have no idea what happened to mine, lost contact obviously, but they're out Aquaria way, hoping that we can pick up something in the future, but I have no idea what Brass is going to want to do about that… no idea what's happening next." He chuckles and then he hears the sound that he dreads and it even causes his shoulders to slump in hischair. "Here's to knowin' we will," he lifts his mug and downs the last of the black goop and smiles with a satisfied wipe of his lips with the back of his hand, "Mind if I grab one for the road?" He asks her, pointing at the candies, "Looks like they're done with my bird, which means I've got to get airborn here soon enough."

The Marine lets her chair fall back to its intended postion as Devlin slumps, her boots hitting the floor too. "Knock yourself out, flyboy. Grab a couple." She pulls her clipboard back into her lap, sighing. "Shoulda studied this shit more when I was in school. Sometimes it don't pay down th' road ta be a bullshit artist." She shakes her head. "Have a safe fly back. Sure I'll see ya 'round soon." She offers him a jaunty little salute, two fingers to the brow, lazily, accompanied by a grin.

The salute is returned after Devlin climbs up out of his seat and takes another couple mints for the flight, "Oh, not headed back yet, still patrols for me, I'll be around here for a while. That's the way things go around here, at least now anyways." He chuckles and smiles, "Keep safe, will see you around again, I'm sure, probably when I need to get back and fill out all this paperwork. Seems like this is the only functional table in these parts." He smiles and then nods one last time before heading for the hangars.

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