AWD #484: The Interview
The Interview
Summary: Admiral Jameson puts the grill lights on a CAG prospect. Robin nabs a CAG position from Hades.
Date: 18/10/2016
Related Logs: None
Jameson Robin 
CO Stateroom
The largest solitary berthing on the ship, the quarters of the ship's Admiral is warm and plush in ways that the rest of the ship is not. Just inside the door is a large wooden table with seating for eight, the walls that flank it holding plexiglass display cases. The interior of the cases are filled with lovingly and carefully built models of Colonial fleet ships as well as classic Cylon examples from their own fleet and air defenses. Farther in it opens up with a small personal bar used as a room divider. On one side is a large, plush leather couch that is built into the curve of the wall, books lining the shelf behind it and a few stacked on the table in front of it. On the other side of the room is access to a personal bathroom as well as the desk, the latter being stacked with several reports and folders stamped 'Classified'. The bed, easily large enough for two, is built into the wall behind the desk with a blanket that very obviously is not fleet issue.
05/05/2006

Spree didn't tell Robin where she was going, only that she was being sent to talk to an Admiral. The Raptor left Anvil with Robin and her few possessions and made the three jumps to Piraeus without a problem. Sure, there's rumors of P. But seeing an active fleet of that many ships around a planet? That might strengthen the heart. When she finally gets off the Raptor on Orion, there's a Petty Officer waiting for her. "Please follow me, sir. The Admiral will see you." It probably feels good to be back on a Battlestar. All around though, are the signs of fighting. The little safety violations that always get skipped in wartime. People shouting on the Deck at each other. Peacetime things that might have gotten a reprimand but now? People don't have time for piddly shit. Its very clear she is on a warship, not a floating Viper berth.

When she gets to Jameson's quarters, the PO knocks twice with the voice calling an enter. He swings the hatch outward and motions her inside without another word. Its closed behind her. Admiral Jameson is parked behind his desk in jeans and a light tan button up shirt. There's a white cowboy hat on the rack nearby. He's leaned back in his chair at a deep angle to the desk, ankle over a knee, looking up from the file in front of him as if expecting to see Robin.

The effect is surreal. Robin never thought she'd see another Battlestar ever again, let alone anything resembling a fleet. It's hard to get excited about rumors of a planet that she's never heard of aside from a vague hope that one day she might be able to traipse about on it, but that's about the way she feels about any uninhabited planet.

On Deck, it takes her a moment to acknowledge the PO, even if she knows she shouldn't dawdle, she can't help draw a deep breath and slip a faint smile at the bickering. Perhaps there's even a touch of jealousy lingering deeper, but she doesn't entertain it. No time. She nods to the PO and follows after him, drawing a few looks as they go. It's not every day a fresh face is on board, at least not a Lieutenant Colonel most have never seen before, that's for sure. When they reach the Admiral's quarters, she waits and then steps inside, her hands clasped behind her back as she comes into view. Once inside, she waits for the hatch to close before she salutes.

Jameson watches the salute and lets her stand there for several seconds while he looks her over. The guy isn't a letch and the look-over doesn't reflect it. Maybe he's looking for something else. Eventually he nods, "As you were." The folder is lifted and tilted out towards a chair in front of the desk. "Take a seat, Colonel." The guy looks back to his file and takes a loooong breath and exhale. "Four days ago I get a note from Spree, says she's got a light colonel finishing up her check-outs in her medical wing. Says this pilot claims to have been a colonel. And a CAG." He glances to her, then back to the papers. "I'll be up front with you, all we have on you is just the name and rank of the Air Group Commander on Valkyrie. Done any flying since this all started, Mister Io?" The drawl on the man is legendary. The hat on the rack isn't for show. But he does look at her expectantly.

Robin holds stock still until ordered otherwise, her eyes slightly lidded through the determined look that settles on her face, like someone squinting into the sun. She then relaxes, eyes dropping to the seat indicated before she steps forward to sit. The discerning squint does not ease up. She listens quietly, her brow arching slightly as the conversation unfolds, easing her expression a touch. "No sir. Much to my chagrin, no sir. I've spent most of my time interfacing with what was left of the civilian and resistance element on Caprica. I sustained a severe injury on Warday which required surgical attention and rehab, but most of the time I've been bedridden. I was finishing up rehab at ANVIL when this summons came," because she doesn't know exactly what this is all about, but could guess that if this is an interview for CAG with any other options, she just failed it.

Jameson watches her, never looking away. Even after she finishes, he just looks at her expectantly. The words are left in the air while she thinks on that. Seconds tick by, heard on the clock in the room. "You know why I leave the silence there after someone tell me something like that? Because I want that to sink in. I want you to wonder about that and the kind of weight that does and does not carry around here." He closes the file, glancing to it before tossing it onto the desk. Hands clasp on his midsection before he looks back at her. "I need a CAG. The Major I have filling in is scrambling between managing her own squadron and trying to fill the shoes. She was a Captain this time last month. I need someone who knows how to handle not just the paper trail, but manage people." The Admiral still doesn't look away, as if studying her for a sign of weakness. "We have Ensigns flying combat that up until three months ago had never sat in a jet. Eighteen years old in some cases. They've been under strain with nearly non-stop sorties for the last year and a half. Some of them have been shot down numerous times. They are tired, they are hurting, but they refuse to quit. They need a leader, Mister Io. I flew in the first war, I know what they are dealing with every single day." He tilts his head forward a touch. "Picon could use a senior instructor. Aerilon is a shitfire war with people killing people right now and they need leadership pilots. I'm considering giving you my people because they need it." Anyone else would continue talking, but its clear this is an evaluation. Only an Admiral would leave the empty space right there for someone else to fill. Or not.

Robin is familiar with scrutiny. She's spent an entire career showing people what she's got or something nearly close to it. One thing is clear, this Colonel would probably have a mean Triad face. She doesn't say anything to the Admiral's revelation as to why he left the silence there. It's a silence that is welcomed in the Colonel. The resolve in her demeanor isn't shaken by what she hears next. If anything, there's a slight distance, a pinch of meloncholy in those soulful brown eyes framed by something harder. Finally, after some silence passes between them, she takes a deep breath and says, "Sir. With all due respect. I'm not going to sit here and try to win your affection and frankly, I don't think that's what you're looking for anyways. No amount of fleet records or accolades or talking is going to show you what you need to make this decision. I'd rather let my actions speak for me." Her gaze does not shrink. "What I do know…personally…War is unforgiving. You need a CAG that won't quit. Bedrock someone who understands what it's like to pull themselves from the fire and keep going. Someone who believes in them. If your pilots are that devoted, it would be an honor to serve with them sir."

Jameson doesn't flinch or show any outward signs of what he's thinking. He just holds his gaze. Again, the silence lingers. Though maybe not for the same reason this time. "Okay." The guy has no compunction about looking away first and going back to her file folder. "I'm glad you feel that way. I'm revoking all your qualifications except for Dogfight. You'll re-earn them in wartime as you shake off the rust." The guy looks back at her, head slightly to the side. "You want the respect of these pilots, you're going to earn it. With them. I'll sign your transfer papers and ship them off to Spree. If you've got anything left there, it will be shipped on the next Raptor. In the meantime, your first order of business is to relieve Major Saint Clair. Her squadron needs her right now. I'm assigning you CAG and you'll also be taking over a Viper squadron that is in need of help." Fingers drum. "Saint Clair has orders to promote anyone she see's fit of leadership. I'm giving you the same freedom, but I want you to listen to her on who. We don't have time to frak around. Your first priority is getting that Viper squadron filled out with leadership, worry about the rest as you can. We're about to launch an offensive in the next month or so and we need people ranking up, regardless of time in. If a fresh Ensign cuts JG, promote them. They'll need experience in rank before we start living up to this ship's name. The Major'll tell you who rates and who does not. Our killboard leader is a fella named Punchdrunk. He's in your squad. Solid, but lacks leadership know-how. There's also a lot of projects running around so you'll be busy catching up. Any questions?" He doesn't seem like he's going to entertain too many.

"I wouldn't have it any other way sir." Robin nods. To what? The pulling of qualifications? Earning the respect of the wing the good old fashioned way? The gravity of her words suggest yes, all of it. She doesn't seem ruffled at all by having her qualifications revoked at all. She's on a battlestar, she has pilots, and they're going to fight till the last man to take it to the enemy. She never even allowed herself to dream it before. If she's happy to have someone she can lean on for insight into the Wing, well she's not jumping for joy in her seat, but she does nod softly as if taking mental note on each bit of personnel. "Excellent. No sir. Not anything I'm sure I could get from the Major." She's not going to waste his time asking questions about Pireaus or the state of the enemy. She's not new to this dance. She knows she'll have way more pertinent questions after settling in. "As lovely as our chat has been, I should probably go buy the Major a beer or…five," seems to be the magic number.

Jameson nods slowly. "We've got a bar on 'P'- Piraeus. Checkpoint Charlie's. The beer is shit, the liquor is managable. Both do the job. Shuttles run every thirty minutes on the hack. Burns fuel, but its fuel I'll spend for my people." He slowly begins his rise and stretches his back, leaning with it. Looking back to her as he comes back to stand tall, he puts out his hand to shake. "This is pass/fail, Io. Don't frak this up or I'm the new CAG."

Robin gets the answer to her /non-question/ just like she wanted and nods to the Admiral. "Thank you. Fuel is a small price to pay for sanity. It's good to know we still can," pay it that is. When the Admiral puts out his hand, a small grin sprouts at the Colonel's lips, finally. She stands firmly and half-steps forward to give Jameson's hand a firm shake. "I don't plan on transferring sir," she affirms before releasing his hand.

"Good. Go grab your people. On my ship, CAG doesn't have their own bunk. You rack with the people you lead. You've got an office down the hall. Also touch base with Major Elias Grey. He's fleet intel and also our stand-in TACCO. Coordinate operations through him." He releases the hand and gestures for the door. "Make it count, Colonel."

"Good to know for tonight," a touch of humor peeks through. Robin nods, "I will. Thank you sir." She nods and turns to leave, but as she gets to the hatch, she turns and salutes. Perhaps the new CAG was a little excited. Perhaps this salute means more than the one on the way in. Either way, it feels right, and Robin does it, taking her leave after she's given it a few moments. Then she steps out the hatch and closes it behind her.

"Time to get to work," Robin says to herself in the corridor. She smooths out her blues and then proceeds at a brisk pace to hunt down the Major.

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