Summary: Dutch fetches Salazar to the Old Man's 'office'. Mustang.
Date: PH 106 (02 August 2009)
Related Logs: Just before: Trash Talk & Pugilism.

CEC Kharon, Deck 2, Marine Berthings
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #106
OOC Time: Sun Aug 02 16:51:29 2009

Only maintaining a small security force, the Marines on board the Kharon have a similar bunk layout to the pilots. The single squad stationed aboard maintains the cleanest environment seen anyplace else on the ship and it shows. The three lines of bunks are clean of debris and trash almost without fail. A single metal table in the center of the room is that of standard Navy issue. However, the bunks hold one distinct difference from every other aboard: The curtains on each bunk are light tan and appear to be made of a thicker material. Hanging from the ceiling above are numerous firearms in various states of disrepair, some of which look flat-out blown apart. Painted on each firearms' buttstocks or receivers is a name and rank accompanied by a date.

Boots hit the deck as Elder comes into the bunks, there's a look before he's moving towards his, and Salazar's bunk. Med kit is tossed up before hand is coming down to grip at her shoulder "Common kid, the Old Man wants to see you." Also known as. get a leg on it.

Salazar glances up from her boot tying as Dutch comes in. She finishes off with her second boot just as he saunters over to toss his shit up into his bunk above hers. "Keep your pants on, John." She enjoys saying these things to me when she's face to crotch with them, you understand. A flick of her hands over her wrist smoothes her khaki colored shirt. She straightens her belt and rises. She remains fairly impassive regarding a summons from the CO.

"I am not frakking you. CO wants your ass." A look back towards the other Sergeant and he at least lets her smooth out her shirt and shit before he's turning to the hatch. "You just might get into active duty today." the Corpsman mutters before he is looking over his shoulder to make sure she is following "If you're lucky, I'll let you blow me too."

"Oh, tell me like it is, babydoll." Salazar grins and follows the other marine to the hatch and beyond, keeping up without a fuss. She's been literally working her ass off for the last 2 weeks to increase her endurance, which was already pretty good. "The CO, like everyone else, can look but not touch. Let's not keep the man waiting."

"And what about me? I can't touch?" asked before Dutch is shaking his head, and sliding on out the door. No time for small talk, after all there's either an ass chewing or a reactivating to get too.

Its just a little jog down the hall way till they are coming to the more officer oriented end of the ship. As they come closer towards the Ward room, the Sergeant stops, staying by the door as he looks over to his tattoo'd friend here. "Alright kitten, he's inside." Dutch motions-he'll be standing outside unless called in.

"I haven't decided about you." Salazar replies, as they hoof it through the corridors. She gives Elder's ass a swat as she makes her way by. "Wish me bullets," she calls back, before she winks, and heads through the hatch.

CEC Kharon, Deck 2, Ward Room
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #106
OOC Time: Sun Aug 02 17:14:38 2009

This is another large room used for meetings between the Senior Officers as well as for holding reception dinners and other formal activities. A single long table of typical military issue for the Ward Room is set in the middle, while more are kept in a small closet to the side. High-backed chairs run the length of the table. Against the short length of the room at the Fore end is the line of Colonial flags in yellow brass bases, representing each colony at the same precise height. Running the unbroken wall on the longer side is a line of pictures of various men and women, all wearing either Colonel or Commanders' insignia. Below each photo is the name of each of the Kharon's commanding officers and their date of service aboard. Along the wall that falls Aft is a trio of screens that provide status reports from various departments on the ship.

Sheridan is currently sitting at the conference room table. File open and contents spread out, reading glasses propped on his nose as he is looking over the contents.

There's a bang on the hatch before it opens, and the summoned Nikos steps inside. She pulls the hatch closed behind her, and turns to face the Commander. "Sir." The address is brief, she raises a hand in a salute, sharp. She looks like she could easily be lounging in a seedy bar, but the woman rocks the sharp salute. Her uniform is crisp, spotless. Nevermind the tatts.

Sheridan motioning to the chair near him, "Sit." Pulling the reading glasses from his face he sets them down on the files as he looks to her eyes slowly sliding over her, "I am guessing since you are not my Sheriff you are Salazar Nikos. Correct?"

"That is correct, sir." Her hands drop to her sides, and she makes her way over to grab a seat, tugging a chair out nearby the Commander. Ex-marine, former Sergeant, CIB agent. Nikos. "What can I do for you, sir?" She looks up at the Commander, eyes meeting his directly.

Sheridan leaning back slowly he folds his hands in his lap, "So I see your name all over these reports. I even catch wind you have some service with us in your past life. Give me a run down on you and this…" Leaning forward he taps the file in front of him, "..situation."

Simple enough. Salazar nods. "I enlisted in the marines back when I was young and impressionable. I was a Sergeant by 22, and if not for a frag in a live fire training, would have stayed on career as a demolitions expert. I did physical therapy for just under a year, but he CIB snagged me before I could ink the paperwork to get back into the CMC. I spent five years with the bureau." She nods to the paperwork. "I was assigned to deep cover, as an arms dealer, and I was in pretty deep by the time the Colonies were hit. Cavalera was on my list of associates. I've known him for several years, and the dossier is mine." Several digital discs were turned in to JAG, containing a couple of years worth of notes, files, audio, video, and digital images. "It is my professional opinion that Cavalera could be a valuable member of the CMC. The man is a survivor, not a murderer. Though the threat of a firing squad is sure to keep him in line. As for Leda, I don't think he's smart enough to have been responsible for the bombing. Informal interviews suggest she's just a dumb kid with shitty luck."

Sheridan nods slowly as he draws his hands up creating a small steeple of his fingers spread wide while he watches and listens. Eyes never falter from Salazar as his fingers disengage and slide to interlock leaving just his index fingers pressed together in the steeple. Leaning the fingers back he rests them on his chin and comments, "Nice career. What are your plans now that you have put the uniform back on?"

"They're simple, sir. Stay alive, keep my fellow soldiers alive as possible. There really is no other choice for a Nikos. We're civil servants. And we do enjoy a good cylon body count." Salazar's chin comes up a little, eyes on the old man. "Simply put, I'll do whatever needs to be done. You want IEDs, you get IEDs. You want surveillance, you get surveillance." Her hands drop onto the arms of her chair.

Sheridan lowering his hands as he leans forward and picks up his reading glasses. Folding them slowly he sets them to the side and gathers the file together and closes it. Picking the folder up he turns it around and reaches over dropping it in front of Salazar's perch. "What do you need to put this to bed and keep it from happening again?"

Salazar reaches for the folder, slides it off the table, and flips it open. She glances over to the Commander, then looks down at the paperwork. "Cut the kid loose, forensic review of the evidence, authority to interview," She's been sort of poking around on the side unofficially, ahem, "… The missing materials have been recovered, disarmed, and replaced. We need MP bodies outside select storage locations. I would suggest borrowing marines from other rotation for guard duty."

Sheridan nods slowly as he stands up and walks over to a small side table, picking up a bottle of water he pulls open a small drawer along the front and picks up a box. Turning he walks back over to his chair and sits down slowly, setting the box on the table in front of him. Leaning back he unscrews the bottle and takes a slow sip of the contents. Watching Nikos quietly for a few moments he sets the bottle down and replaces the lid, "So I need your honest self-assessment. You spent your career as a doer and NCO. Do you have the leadership necessary to be an officer?"

Salazar's dark eyes watch the Commander's movements. She considers his words for several beats. "I do have a way with people, sir." She makes several silent adjustments to her though process. That question was not one she so much… expected. It doesn't really show. "I am capable, and I have had many fine examples, sir. If you need an officer, you'll get an officer." Her tone is confident, words suggest no hesitation. The consideration was brief, but thorough. "It would be an honor to lead soldiers." As opposed to gardeners. Civilian life post bombs was pretty rough. "Rather than diplomatically making suggestions." A faint smile appears at this. It's gone soon enough.

Sheridan nods slowly and stands up, gathering the box he walks around the table and sets it on the folders, "You can take that and solve my issues. Or you can leave it." Reaching up he pats her shoulder gently, "Congratulations Ensign, you are now the S2 for this detachment. You report to the Lieutenant and I highly recommend getting your Master at Arms in line and solve these open issues." Lifting his hand he walks towards the hatch and turns to look back at her, "Also Ensign, you need to adhere to the grooming standards of the Corps. You are no longer a civilian." WIth that he turns and unwinds the hatch and pulls the door open. Stepping out without another word spoken.

"Sir." Salazar acknowledges with a nod. She glances up, then eyes the box for a moment before she reaches over to take it. She grabs the folder, shoves it under her arm. Her fingers close over the box. No need to open it just yet. Sal rises, and turns to the Commander. She's going to take no end of shit from MSGT Nikos. Salazar waits until the Commander has exited into the corridor, then peers into the box briefly, before snapping it shut again. Right. "Oorah," she murmurs.

About two minutes after the Commander exits the Ward Room and heads off down the Corridor, Salazar exits the room with a folder under her arm, and a small box in her hand. She glances over at Dutch, shakes her head slightly, and opens the box. She pins on the new insignia. From Sergeant to Ensign in under twenty minutes.

Dutch turns his head and pushes off the bulkhead before he is coming over. One brow stitches up and he's shaking his head with a whistle. "You gotta be shitting me." Elder mutters, before he is looking back up to her. "Looks like I won't be cumming in your face after all. Shit." a click of his tongue. "Don't that beat all."

"I never get on my knees, John," Salazar glances over at Dutch again, snapping the second pin in place. She shakes her head slightly. "I doubt your aim is that good." She hms and snaps the little box closed, her old pins inside it. "Apparently, there was an opening. We'll be pulling some marines from other duty rotations to pull some guard rotations outside of the small arms lockers to keep the detonators and G-4 where they belong."

"I figured you to be laying on your back but, you know, whatever frakking works." Dutch says with a shake of his head. "I've never shot a wad in the eyes.." As if he needs to vouch for his prowess in the sack. All the same he's shaking his head "Oh I know." Elder says before he is looking over the shoulder at her. "I shot the last one." Yes, it seems that is why there's been a bit of distance between him and the other marines in berthing.

"Don't shoot at me, Sergeant. I shoot back." Salazar steps over to Dutch and drops her hand on his shoulder. "A sweet talker like you shouldn't have a problem winning over the chilly ones. You had no choice. I would have shot him in the head." She looks over again. "You catching that much shit?"

"Never seen a woman do that in the flesh. Would be frakking interesting though." Elder chuckles before he is looking to the hand on his shoulder. A shake of his head right there "I don't win over friends or frak people Ensign. I don't have the godsdamned time." As for catching shit? "Yeah. I think its cause who the frak I am-doing the godsdamned Sheriff's job.." Dutch says with a grumble "Its like I am the godsdamned traitor in this."

"You step out of line, I'll boot you back in. I'm good for that." Sal smirks a little, apparently more amused by Dutch than she ought to be. Doesn't sound like she thinks she'll have to give him the boot to the ass. "Marines don't naturally gravitate to you?" She shakes her head sadly. "Hard to buy. Maybe it's something you said."

A look back to Sal, and John's shaking his head for a second. "I'll remember that Mustang." Yup-it seems Salazaar is now in a different rung compared to Dutch and so she's been shifted over, like that. But isn't that how it goes? Once you're an officer, you're moved out of the lets joke and frak category to insta respect. "Folks might buck at you, at first-given that you're not from us. BUt, I'll chew em out.." As for something he said he shrugs "I don't treat em like frakking children. If they do shit I call it on em, sir."

"You don't know me that well, neither do they. It'll work out, because they don't have a choice, and I'm just so damn likable." Salazar glances over. "I'll take off my pins and make a point if I have to. Most days I won't. I'm in an intelligence position. Nobody wants to get uppity with the Sheriff's boss." She glances down the corridor, and walks. "It's not a day care. There's no snack time. Just plenty of paperwork."

Dutch chuckles as he turns and stops walking. A look back to her. "You're right beyond what talks we have had between one another, I still do not know a lick of shit about you." A shake of his head before he is turning and rejoining her down the corridor. "Hell I don't even know much about the MoA save he's nailin' one of the corporals." Dutch adds before shaking his head. "Odd shit..But I am looking forward to learning."

"That's the spirit." Sal glances over to nod to her fellow marine. "Well, at least if you know who he's banging, you know who to avoid to keep yourself out of unnecessary locker searches." It could take a while for her to get used to the sudden officer bit. "You got any residual pain from the shit down on the planet?"

"I came by that knowledge through a shitty situation, sir." Elder says with a half assed smirk before he is nodding on to her, and with a raise of his brow. "Well." a look of his head "No sir. and if I did, I am likely not going to complain about it. I like remaining active and not forced to be desk side. I'm a marine-sitting makes my ass crawl."

"Good. You'd be hell in an office setting. Bitch bitch bitch." Salazar heads down Aft, boots heavy on the deck. "This is where I'd normally ask you if you got caught in bed with his PoA, but something tells me an officer should be a little more dignified, and wait until there's booze on the table for that."

"I don't right take to the bitching, but when it comes it frakking pours. You know those godsdamned airy fairies where bitching because we tossed their shit to make sure no one else had bomb like shit in their junk? Frakking titty babies everyone of em. Every goddamned one." And then he looks back towards Sal "NAw, he didn't catch me. Damned bitch thought it wise to tell me after I was shot to shit, and strapped to a bed in the medbay-because when I am laying down feeling like shit, I obviously want more shit."

"That's cold." That's damn cold. Salazar shakes her head as she continues along Aft toward the stairwell. "That's real cold. At least she didn't take you for everything first. One of the bonuses of being stuck in space is they can't leave the Colony and change their name after they clean our your savings." She glances over. "Small silver linings, John. It's what life is all about."

Dutch chuckles "I was a miner. all I got to my name is my fiddle, and a few other things. Other than that I got jack shit that anyone might want." A nod on as he continues for the stairwell, following the Ensign on, unless she is heading off to a different part of the ship-than from where he will be, a going. "Yeah..My silver lining?" a shrug "Can I trade it in for a hot bath?"

"A hot bath." Salazar takes a moment of silence something like that requires. "Now you're talking." She glances over and says, "I have three changes of civvie clothes, duct tape, a few paperbacks, a couple of lighters and tiny personal items. I don't think many of us have a lot left." She turns for the marine berthings, flicking her hair out of her eyes. It's just down the hall. "Good thing we're marines, or that might get depressing."

"Yeah, Hot bath, food that tastes like food. Down there, I got enough dirt an fresh air to serve as a good reminder for a while." Elder admits as he continues to walk. She glances over and he doesn't. Just a faint smirk as she lists off her belongings. "You come into the corps poor, you leave rich, wasn't that the saying?" a kiss of his teeth "Load of horse-shit." A grunt there. "I plan to just leave with a smoke, myself."

"The rate the consumables are being consumed, you'd be lucky to go with that," the newly minted Ensign replies, slowing as she approaches the hatch to the Berths. "After you, Sergeant." Salazar pauses by the hatch, holding it open for the larger marine. Ain't that sweet?

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