Talking Strategy
Talking Strategy
Summary: Vendas and Roubani talk about strikes and some dirty tricks.
Date: MD036
Related Logs: None

Simulators - Hangar Deck

Simulator training, stuffed between their double CAPs. Roubani is still in his flight suit as he sits at one of the workstations where he can review the exercise he just did. He's making a few notes on a pad of paper, looking up and back down between the ink and the flashing screen.

Vendas closes the hatch behind her, the woman in her jocksmock also. She glances up at the screen and occupied Viper with a smirk while pouring herself a glass of water out of the faucet. "Who goes there?" she calls happily enough to the form in the Viper. "That you, Roubani?" She peers through the low lights as she makes her way over.

Roubani looks up from the screen, tapping a button to pause the playback. He cranes his neck to look up. "Yes, sir." He'll assume it's a sir, even before recognising Vendas' voice. "Major?"

Vendas grins at the second identification. "Hey." She walks slowly up to the sim and glances up to the screen. "Glad to see some of the Ensigns up here in any capacity except under orders or assignments." She chuckles, lifting the glass to sip it. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything too vital, am I?" She glances to the paper, pointedly. Though her smile is genuine.

"No, sir." Roubani rubs his closed fingers against his jaw. "I was just reviewing this. Navigation exercise NVG-212. I didn't do as well as I'd hoped."

"Oh yeah?" The Major leans against the sim. "Is that the one that takes you through the loose asteroid field and dumps you back near a gas giant on the other side?" She lifts the glass one more, taking a short sip. "I'm afraid I haven't seen much stick time in a sim in a little bit so you probably know these programs even more than I think you might." Indicated she half-way expects the Doctoral candidate to have written the programs.. jokingly.

"Yes, that one." Roubani offers Vendas a faintly awkward smile. "I'm a physics major, sir, not computer science. This would be much easier if I could just hack it." He looks back at the screen and wrinkles his nose. "I can explain why the gravity does what it does, but I am at the mercy of my reflexes like everyone else."

Vendas chuckles. "Oh don't sweat it, Roubani. Everyone starts off someplace. Nobody pops out of the womb knowing the ins-and-outs of flying. This is all stuff that will come with time and practice." Her smile, like her voice, is easy. Relaxed. She's probably talked hundreds of rooks through exercises before. "Check it out, its like this: You keep flying it. Try different things. See how the Viper reacts. Don't necessarily do what you think you should. If you crash the sim, so what? In your noggin, I'm sure you know exactly why things happen, but to feel the feedback i nthe stick and in the thrusters is something else, ya know? It won't hurt to kill yourself a few times in here."

Roubani taps the button to start the vid playback again, and exactly three seconds later the fake alert lights flash and boom, his sim viper clips a wing against an asteroid and goes flying into the one next to it. He looks back up at Vendas and smirks. "Point taken, sir."

The Major watches him try and power through everything. "Its easy once you get a better feel for it. What this doesn't simulate, obviously, is the pull on your body. The things you hear in your airframe. The water in your inner ear sensing exactly where the gravity is pulling you. But you'll get it. Everyone does. Its not /easier/ in real life because of the pressure, but certain things aide you more than they might in here." She smirks and looks back to him. "So lemme ask you a question, Ensign. You curious about the meeting we have coming up?" There's a little playful grin to her.

Roubani watches her as she talks, absorbing what she's saying. Once she's done he even jots down some note, in his largely illegible handwriting. At the mention of the meeting he looks back up. "Yes, sir. I'm not on CAP at that hour so I was planning to attend. May I ask what it's about?"

Vendas chuckles. "Glad to hear it." Even if its supposedly required. He might get the idea that this lady goes the extra mile to put people at ease. "We're going to planning a strike. Our primary mission on this cruise is to resupply Sixth Fleet who are just finishing up some live fire exercises near the Arm Line. I've gotten permission from the old man and the Admiralty. The judges on the ships have been informed but their commanders are in the dark. We're going to be storming a battlestar and ambushing their Air Wing." With their little half-normal-strength Air Wing. But she looks all too happy with the idea.

"You play rough, sir." Roubani's voice is soft and a bit dry as usual, even if he does sound a little amused. "Will the losers have to pay for the winners' repairs?"

Vendas chuckles lightly. "Ah, we'll be using the laser systems the twenty millimeters have. I'm planning to have our Marines use paintguns or something like that. Maybe lasers, too." She shrugs. "Ground combat ain't my thing. I'm better with a stapler than I am with a sidearm and I've stapled my fingers like eight times in the past year." She shadows another knowing smile. "Losers? Well either way, we've already got kudos from Fleet. Just the idea is a little nuts. If we lose? So what. Its expected. But if we win? We took down a battlestar. And I don't like to lose."

Roubani gives her hands a glance as though expecting to see said staples still there. Then he looks back at her face. "I suspect worse odds have been taken on and won, sir. What are their numbers like?"

Vendas shrugs. "Worse odds, sure. We've done exercises like this before. They're a complete hoot. Even if you lose, its just a total blast. Everyone is all worked up and nervous the night before. But once you get out there, everyone is just in heaven." She seems supremely confident of all this. "But I figured I might as well ask now. You're a damned smart guy, Ensign. Got any ideas about how to try and even our odds a little? I have my own ideas but I'd like to hear what might pop into your head. Never know what might get used, eh?" She grins, sipping at the water once more.

Roubani's eyes flick down. "Do you know their numbers, sir? Hard ratio of us to them? And do they have Mark II's or Mark VII's, mainly?" He turns a little in the simulator seat as he becomes more interested, so he can see her better.

Vendas takes a long breath. "We're looking at a full battlestar Air Wing, plus Marines. So.. three squadrons of Vipers. Mostly Sevens. One squadron of Raptors. Here on the Kharon we have an overstrength squadron of Vipers - by about fifty percent - plus our Raptors. They're special warfare capable and know their doo-doo pretty well. We've already got our approach worked out. But I'm looking for exploitable ideas or ways to trick them. So far, we're planning to approach through a jump and pretend to be a basestar with hacked Colonial codes. But I'm up for different ideas."

"I don't know battlestar systems very well, sir," Roubani pulls a foot up onto the seat, locking his fingers around his shin. "But Mark VII battle management systems have a particular sensitivity to heat signals. Depending on what sort of tactics you'd want to engage, I can think of a way, theoretically mind you, to either fool their CAP into thinking there are far less of us…or far more."

Vendas nods to his first admission. She actually seems glad to hear that, though. Its an oddity. One of many that this woman seems to have. But the rest ensures that the Ensign has this Major's complete attention. "Well I know what I'd like to see. Talk to me, though. Maybe you can convince me otherwise. Should we go with more or less? And.. what else can you do for us???" Yep, she's allll grins.

"More would be more difficult and less believable, albeit less risky," Roubani says. He pauses to think, his mind spinning up like a Raptor's FTL drive. "Less would work like this. A Mark VII running on minimal life support and without active thrusters can function on approximately 15 amps of power. The threshhold of detection on a normal Mark VII DRADIS is around 20 amps. If we can work out a power-down sequence to get our Vipers below that threshhold, we can jump in at a distance, drift in very close, do a coordinated power-up and ambush them. Theoretically, mind you." He cautions that part with a hand up.

"Could we produce more signals from certain Vipers and power down others? I mean, I would assume it could be done, but you're the Engineer. Do you think pilots would be able to work all this in their own cockpits?" Vendas seems pretty open to this whole idea. "And how dangerous would it be to do all this? I mean, what kind of risks are we looking at?"

"Not dangerous, per se. Life support would be functioning." Roubani shrugs. "The risk is more to the strategy. We'd have to see exactly how long it takes for a full power-up to weapons go. As if it's too long then the idea's useless. The pilots would also need to be shown the startup procedure, and would need practice to be sure they could do it accurately and quickly. As for Vipers producing extra signals…Mark VII's can detect infrared radiation within the 8 to 13 micrometre wavelength range. If you wanted to produce more signals, we could, again in theory, deploy Raptors with some kind of beacons that can produce that wavelength, and scatter them. I don't know if the Kharon has any or has the ability to make them, plus there's a risk there of confusing our own Vipers."

Vendas sips at the water once more, letting her eyes fall to the sim's mockup console. She's thoughtful for a long moment. "Okay. I like this." The CAG looks back to him. "How long do you think it would take you to develop the fastest start-up you could? Assuming of course that you got with the Deck Chief or LSO and tried to figure this out? And the beacons won't be a problem, Roubani. We're carrying lots of extra drones and beacons down in our cargo hold. Enough firepower to load up a Battlestar and a half, actually."

Roubani nods to her notion of getting with the Deck Chief or LSO. "Of course, sir. I wouldn't presume to do anything to the birds without them. I'd expect it would take under a day to get the procedure. Then say 24 hours to get all necessary pilots trained on it. The issue with beacons isn't if we have them, it's whether we can outfit them to emit the wavelength we need. Engineering would know. They'd have to find some way to distinguish the signal enough so that we could tell what's real and what's not, but our enemy couldn't."

Vendas, for her part, looks thoroughly impressed. "Hot damn, Ensign." She smirks. "Well I'm hesitant to pull you from anything, but here's what I want you to do: Meet with Captains Marek and Legacy and tell them exactly what you've told me. This is your baby, so I'm gonna have you run with it. But before anything else, I want you to sell it to the Captains. Think you can do it? I'd love to present this at the strike planning session as an option for us." A very likely option. "Or do you want some more time to really bunker down on the ideas?"

Roubani gets a brief deer in headlights look, but he recovers. "If it's really feasible I should be able to have a plan to you by the meeting, provided I can speak with everyone I need to, sir."

Vendas laughs at his look. "Relax, Ensign. This is part of being an officer." Her mannerisms are still soft and relaxed as if she was a mother urging a child along. "The idea is sound, its convincing, and the tactical implications are pretty staggering. If this theory works out.. and you can get it to work during the boarding action.. I'll put a personal note of commendation in your jacket and I can probably talk to CO and maybe a few more into endorsing it." That may not be much for a man who isn't planning on a career, but it might make him the envy of the rest of the Ensigns and even a few Jigs. "General timeframe, though, when you can have information and know it cold?"

Roubani looks much less eager about the commendations than one might expect. He simply nods, and even seems a touch awkward. "I'll do my best, sir. 24 hours should do to at least give a green or red light. Assuming green, I could have procedure done by…I'd say about six hours before the meeting."

"All I can ask for is your best, Ensign." She notes the lack of enthusiasm and smirks. "Think of that letter like this: Its a big shiny official piece of paper saying that the Navy has seen proof that you're an innovative thinker and will back it up if any potential Doctoral programs want some practical experience." She gives him a curt nod. "See if its feasible first. If it is, let me know and I'll get the gang together and I'll have you sell it. And be ready for it. If they buy into it like I think they will, you will be organizing the whole thing." She has a rather large wealth of faith in this Ensign, apparently.

Whether Roubani has faith in himself is much more questionable. "Understood, sir. I should probably get to work, then." He offers her a vague smile and picks up his notebook, closing it.

Vendas pushes away from the Viper sim and sips at her water. She moves back towards the sink at the rear of the room. "Do whatever you need to, Ensign. If you need support, ask for it. Don't be shy about invading other departments either." She smirks to him but doesn't stop him either.

Roubani climbs out of the Viper, shutting the notebook. "Yes, sir." He gives her a formal salute, perhaps taking comfort in the gesture, and turns to head off. Possibly to throw up a while before getting down to things.

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