AWD #279: Should Not Have Said That
AWD #279: Should Not Have Said That
Summary: Warren and Kelsey talk and then Kelsey says the wrong thing.
Date: 13/10/2013
Related Logs: None
Warren Kelsey 
Ready Room
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 #279

The Ready Room, that wonderful den of briefings and paperwork. It has a sole occupant at the moment, all the way down in the first row. Warren sits there, cup of coffee in front of him and an ashtray. Papers are scrawled over the desk as well, and he has a notepad on one thigh. He appears to be taking notes, going over the footage of the last bombing run he was on over santos ridge.

The hatch opens and in walks that young Raptor jock. She's in her blues but they're mostly unbuttoned. Judging by her still-wet hair and the smell of her, she's fresh from a shower. Arms push out wide in a stretch as she meanders down the side to look over the killboard. She stops in front of it and shoves her hands into her pockets with a soft grunt.

Warren glances up as he hears the hatch opens up to see who's coming in. He smirks as he spots you looking over the killboard, "Checking to see where you are on the board?" He quickly glances up to the footage, and pauses then rewinds a bit to replay the flak hit he takes. Theres another note that gets scribbled down before he pulls a pack of smokes out, "You know kills aren't everything."

Kelsey glances over her shoulder to the pilot in the first row, but she doesn't seem to recognize him. "Yessir. I come by once a week to see how other people are doing versus me." Her gaze drifts back to the board. "I guess. But it doesn't stop me from being frustrated about it. How many do you have, sir?" She can't see his rank but she probably just assumes he outranks her. Its a generally safe bet.

Warren nods a bit at that pausing the film, "14 or 15 I think? Something like that at least." He shrugs a bit lighting up his smoke after a moment, "Eh don't be too frustrated over it. I've set up more kills I think than I've scored myself. Sides kills don't mean shit if the mission goes wrong. Mission comes first. People you're flying with second. Kills, unless kills are the mission, third." He hmmms a moment before talking more to himself than you, "Reminds me I need to talk to Atia bout the ECO's…"

"So says the guy with fourteen or fifteen at least, then," she says with a short chuckle that ends in a sigh. "I have two. And one of them came from bombing Caprica City. Most of my experience is flying medevac." She hears the rest and shrugs, not quite buying it. "How are we supposed to gauge ourselves then? I feel like I'm not carrying my load." As an Ensign flying for six months, apparently she thinks she should be doing more. Or better. The mention of ECO's has her turn more. "What about them?"

Warren takes a drag from his smoke and smirks, "Says the viper jock who's job it is to get kills. Raptors jobs generally are blasting canners." He shrugs a bit, "As for how you gauge yourself? Coming back alive's a good one. Number of people you pull out of hot zones?" Theres another drag from his smoke before he ashes and takes a sip of coffee. "Hmm? Oh the ECO's. Noticed they're a bit blood thirsty. Looking to get up there on the killboard more than protecting the vipers or raptors," he intones.

"I'd prefer to get up there. I'd like to blast more of them. I want to fly strike more. But I keep getting put on medevac missions and I don't know why. Its frustrating. I -want- to run out there and.." Kelsey kicks the floor lightly. Its probably an old frustration for her, but one she has had to learn to chill out. Maybe that's -why- she keeps getting sent on medevac. "Saving people is all good. But I guess I didn't sign up for it. But there it is, that's my job now." She shrugs and steps farther down towards him slowly. Walking with her hands in her pockets and her uniform unbuttoned, she looks pretty sloppy. Or maybe just lazy. There could be a lot of reasons for that. "Oh. Well the ECO's want to kill stuff, too, I guess, sir. Kill one, you want to get more." She comes around and spots the rank on his collar and stops. "Oh. Uh, sorry, Captain." Hands come out of her pocket. "Didn't mean to bother you, sir."

"Ever think thats whats holding you back? That you're too eager. Not wanting to put in the work on the small things? You fly busses right? 90% of your job has nothing to do with shooting anything. Thats just something you're going to have to accept at some point," he says before taking a drag and waving his hand. "You're not bothering me. Haven't had much time for conversation between paperwork, going over everyones guncam footage, more paperwork, and being out there flying," Warren says after a moment. Theres a smirk, "And as for the ECO's, gettin kills is good, but once again order of operations is Mission, Flight, Killing…Not Killing, Mission, Flight."

Kelsey fiddles with her uniform, trying to button it without being too hasty about it. Captains have that ability to make your life really hard. "No, I'm willing to work on the small things, sir. The problem is that I just want to get out there and help. Flying lots of medevac is rewarding and all but I want to do more. People have told me to shut up before, though. I guess its true. I'm eager, but it is what it is. The only thing that's changing is that I'm not so terrified anymore. And I guess I've chilled out some." She finishes with the top button and manages to look far more presentable. "So what're you going to tell the CAG then? What do you think we should be doing?"

Warren shrugs a bit and takes a drag from his smoke, "Medevacing people is helping. Rewarding, well if thats what you take from it sure. But its helping. If everyones off killing things who's picking up the injured? Someone needs to do it." He ashes his cigarette thinking a moment on the question. Not exactly an easy one to answer so he takes a sip of his coffee to buy more time, "Well…honestly? Depends on the situation, but unless the missions objectives are to take out on the ground…lets take care of our own before we go after kills."

Kelsey doesn't seem to know what to do with her hands so she laces fingers in front of her eventually. "I guess. My gramma was an ECO. She said I had the drive of a Viper pilot but not the control. She agreed that I should be in Raptors." She looks back to the screen for a moment, biting her lip, then back to him. "I win medals, sir. I don't want medals. I just- I guess I just want to- well it sounds stupid, but I just want to be respected. I want to help more than flying off sick people and kids. Seems like everything I do it just sorta doesn't matter. I'm still in my box. I just don't know how to do it, I suppose." She didn't spend four years at an academy through endless lectures about how to be an officer, this much is very obvious. Didn't she used to fix things on the Deck? "I guess it makes sense about the ECO's. I just feel bad. Maybe, like me, they just want to be aggressive. In the end, who knows? Right, sir?"

Warren listens for a moment, looking perhaps a little more tense. He takes a long drag of his smoke, a sip of his coffee. "Those sick people, those injured, those kids, those people you're talking about that you say doesn't matter. Those are our people. Some of the last of us. Theres not as many of us as there once was. Everyone you get out? Every one you pick up? Thats one more family, one more group of people who may see their loved ones again. Frak, this is my home world. This is where I grew up. On Picon. My fraking family is probably dead. I'll probably never see them again. But there might be another officer who's family is still down there, still alive. ANd you may just be picking them up one of these days, getting them to safety and giving him the reunion that some of us will never get. So don't tell me that doesn't matter." He pauses taking a deep breath, "You want respect? Start respecting what you do, and what that could mean to the people around you. If you don't want to, fine. But don't you dare let anyone else hear you say that what you do doesn't matter, or even seems that way."

Kelsey stiffens, eyes going a little wide. It is quite the deer-in-the-headlights look. She stands there appearing like she might shrink or wish she could just run. But when its over she does not meet his eyes. She looks to the side and down. "I didn't-" Kelsey eventually whispers. "That's not what-" She clears her throat. "I'm sorry, sir. Should I go now, Captain?" That was blunt and seemed to whack her in the head with the intended result.

Warren takes in a deep breath and a sip of coffee, almost letting her stew there a moment. "You're free to go Ensign. Though a word of advice. You're an officer now. You're an example to people. Choose your words carefully next time. Yeah?" he says before taking a long drag of his coffee before grabbing the remote to unpause the footage to begin taking notes.

Kelsey doesn't look terribly comfortable with something he said right there. She blinks her eyes farther away and turns to go without another word, head dipped. She cannot exit that room fast enough.

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