Think Tank
Think Tank
Summary: Matto, Komnenos, and Roubani work on making Raptors assault-ready. Fenris, Praxis, and Gresham get roped into Nerd City.
Date: PHD193 (29 October 2009)
Related Logs: Ramp It Up, Turnabout
Players:
Matto..Komnenos..Roubani..Fenris..Praxis..Gresham..Legacy..

Kharon - Hangar Bay 1

As the conversation finally touches upon his ears, the slightest of smirks passes over Praxis' features but disappear within a fleeting moment, quick enough that most of the deck crew wouldn't have noticed and especially not Fenris as her back was turned. Yet when the others -do- indicate Demitros' presence and she does turn around, he returns the salute, subsequently dropping it. "It would be of almost sheer coincedence, Lieutenant Valasche, that the topic you are currently discussing is precisely what I have approached you to speak about." He nods his head, and then peers around at the deck crew, giving them a look that illustrates 'get back to work' before eyes fall back onto Fenris. From out of his pocket he pulls out a small notepad and pen. "I wanted to inquire as to the current status and progress of our pilots-in-training."

"Sir!" Fenris replies, lowering her hand to her side, then with the inquiry, she proceeds into a report, "After preliminary training, we've determined that they've reached a point that it would be safe to elevate them to putting controlled flight time in with actual craft. My preference is to give them a day or two of launch and landing cycles to get them used to the bumps and accelerations that the pods can't properly give them. After that, formation flying would follow, and Captain marek indicated he had an interest in incorporating them into some excercises he has in the works." All spoken without a batted eyelash, pride or misgiving, whilst the deck gang scatter at the man's look like someone pulled the pin on something.

Matto arrives from the Hallway - Hangar Deck.
Matto has arrived.

Komnenos arrives from the Hallway - Deck 1, Fore.
Komnenos has arrived.

Roubani heads up to the flight deck, in an unzipped flight suit and carrying a large set of stapled printouts. There's a glance given to his watch, being certain he's on time for whatever it is he's doing - or whoever it is he intended to meet. It's towards the Raptors he's moving as he reviews all this printed data.

Praxis is about to scribble things down onto his notepad but what Fenris says does grab his attention. "Excellent. So they have been progressing - there hadn't been word for a rather long expanse of time since their inception into the program." the XO mentions with a matter-of-fact tone. "You are already likely aware, Lieutenant, as you seem one to follow procedure - but in any case it would be prudent to inform CIC when a launch containing pilots in training is commenced. Therefore extra vigilance may be taken for safety's sake, yes?" He might have the comm officer memorize their names though, anyway. It's then he starts scribbling down Fenris' immediate plans for the training. "Understood. Marek may execute any exercise he sees fit, and your path for the progression of training seems more than satisfactory, as well."

Praxis and Fen are standing near the Vipers conversing, Demitros catching Roubani in his peripheral vision but not turning to confirm his indentity.

Matto's proper Foxbat is still under the weather, a small cluster of deckies welding on some new heading to where its wing was pierced. The Kissybear himself, fully flight-suited still from CAP, finally comes wandering to the hatchway of Foxbat-7, which he's been flagrantly borrowing with some combination of backseaters not his usual since the most recent engagement. He takes good care of it, though, of course. One arm stretches upward, hand clutching the top of the hatchway, helmet still under his arm as he squints out.

Thorn's strides onto the hangar deck not long after Roubani, eyes flicking around as he, too, angles off towards where the Raptors are parked. A brow crinkles as he notices the XO standing off to the side, talking to one of the Viper pilots. His course doesn't waver, though, and he pulls out a pen from one of his flightsuit pockets, drumming it against his palm as he walks. "Poet." Komnenos greets the other man as he nears a parked Raptor.

"Of course, sir." Fenris answers simply to the first. She nods to the next, and follows up with a, "Thank you, Captain. I will include a training call to CIC before I begin taking them out." There is no imediate sign that Fen notices the approaching Poet, or Matto, at first, as she continues, "Do you have any preferences as to the format I should follow for that, sir?"

Roubani is slightly jarred when he notices Fenris and Praxis. A distracted salute is passed along as he continues by towards Foxbat-7. And Matto, and Komnenos. "Thorn." He holds up the papers in his hands, the sheafs rustling quietly. "I saw the latest from the sims. This will be incredible if it works." That could've been sarcastic, but it isn't. It's /quite/ curious. He lifts a hand to Matto, waving a little. "Kisseus, did you get the copies of these?"

Matto comes down the ramp a few steps, arm easing back to his side. "I did. Didn't bring them with me, but while I was powering Fox-7 down I put primary and secondary power grids on standby for the modifications. She's all set," he adds with a smile.

It's clear that whenever Praxis is focused on something he'll notice little else, such is the case when he doesn't acknowledge the other pilots' presence - or perhaps it's just that he simply doesn't care. Either way, the conversation continues. "I believe that it would be a good idea to mention it once upon egress from the tubes and another when you are RTB. It could perhaps be something such as, 'CIC, Mudguts, the board is green - permission to launch, two nuggets on wing'…or something like that, I am not entirely picky just as long as the message is understood, no?"

"Be th' messiest bloody thing I've ever done, though," Komnenos grunts in response as he pulls up next to Roubani. "You think that mess in th' com bunker on Scorpia was touchy? Fraaaaaak." He shakes his head, jerking a thumb in Fox-7's direction. "Bloody thing'll be little better than a flying brick," adds Thorn with a sigh. There's an unexpected smile, though, as Komnenos' eyes fall on Kissy. "But then, I'll not be the one flying th' bugger."

Roubani hehs quietly at Thorn. "More than likely. That is one thing we'll need to time carefully - how quickly they can get back to combat-ready." He flips a page in the stack, blowing air gently out the side of pursed lips. "I hadn't expected their sensors to use this kind of detection algorithms. Makes it easier and harder at once, I suppose. I wonder what we'd have to do to bribe CIC into reconfiguring a Kharon sensor or two just to test it." A slight smirk and he shrugs, closing the papers. "Well. Cart before horse. It's all yours." A gesture at both men. "What's first?"

Fenris glances sidelong at the salute, granting a returned one of her own, possibly painting him for the Captain in passing though she nods with a timely reply to his musings, "Yes sir. I'll follow my status with the training flag, and have the nuggets follow with their own status calls." She doesn't yet notice the full gaggle of Raptors talking shop nearby, but soon, very soon.

"Excellent." Praxis replies, looking over in the direction where Fenris had tossed her salute, it being far too late to acknowledge the presence of the man who placed his hand up by his forehead. It's that brief moment that he looks over that he realizes the flight deck had gotten just a little bit more busy. "I believe that is all I wished to talk about and more. I don't wish to take up any more of your time." The XO glances at his watch.

"Well, first I figured we'd cut all systems we're going to leave down even if a combat situation arises," Kissy gives his opinion. "Did you all decide whether you were going to off life support?" he wonders. "It makes an awful fuss," he points out, "And if we make sure to supply extra power cels and oxypacks for our flightsuits we should be okay going completely cold. Either way, I'm a mess, I'm just going to go wipe up a little bit and grab the notes you left me, N. I won't be a few minutes," he assures the both of them.

Thorn looks at Kissy. "It's not really an option," he announces. "Unless you'd like t' keep even more power away from the guidance systems? I don't think y' like seat of th' pants flying that much, Kiss." Komnenos leans against the Raptor's wing, waving noncommittally as Matto takes off for a bit.

Letting the Raptors dialogue in peace, she nods to the XO's words and replies, "I'll try to keep you abreast of further developments sir. I have no pressing engagements if you require anythine else?"

"Does life support draw that many amps?" Roubani asks, making a slight face. "We were able to leave that on in the Vipers. Granted, that was against other Vipers…I don't know about against this." A glance at the papers in his hands, considering the figures. Hm. He nods quickly to Kissy's darting off, looking back at Thorn.

The very hands-on Praxis Demitros is only slightly turned away from Fenris, just so he can watch what's going on across the way with an air of curiosity. "I am attempting to think of something else to ask you but I do appear to failing that." There's a brief pause before his hands lock at the small of his back. "Suppose this is your opportunity to relate questions, concerns, or requests I may be able to take care of before I return to my office." Jade eyes continue to scan over the Raptor. "What do you think they're doing?" he murmurs off the record, brow raising as his curiosity now translates audibly.

"You don't have t' worry about keeping the cabin of a Viper pressurized," Thorn points out. "And you've got a lot less space t' worry about; a cockpit for one bloke as opposed to a cabin for twelve." The ECO shrugs from his perch against the ship. "An' considering the crew wears flightsuits anyway, it's not even as though it's all that essential." Komnenos nods his head to where Kissy was just standing. "Like he said, just make sure th' crews take along extra supplies. If this works, they'll have more t' worry about out there than having no power t' life support."

Matto wanders back at about that time. He doesn't seem to have changed, but to have stowed his helmet and maybe run a damp rag over his head, face and neck. And gotten the proper papers. "Sorry 'bout that. Had a bad case of CAP hair. Yeah, no life support shouldn't be an issue unless something goes horribly wrong. Not like it takes that much to power it? But once that power's going through all the res fields to heat up the thing it shines like a frakking beacon. And that's aside from the heat signature," he notes, flipping through the pages.

Roubani makes a face that's not quite a wince, nodding to both of them now that Matto's reappeared. Hmm, indeed. "And this is why I don't presume to know Raptors," he says, half-amused and self-deprecating both at once. "Well. She's yours to boot, gentlemen. Which sequence did you want to try first?"

Fenris's eyes turn to the Raptors for a few moments, considering, then, she answers, "Perhaps plotting a tweak, or going over a maintenance report, I'd guess." On the subject of additional questions, she does broach, "We'll likely need to work out some random scramble drills, sir. I'm not altogether certain how to organize one. Should I focus on it being purely for the nuggets, for example. if so, how should I proceed?"

Praxis looks over in that direction for a rather lengthy amount of time. He knows Raptors. But he doesn't get involved. The XO looks back to Fenris at the mention of the scramble drills, nodding his head before giving her his input. "What I would suggest, and you should likely consult the CAG on this one if he disagrees - but if you want to capture the realism of a scramble, it will have to involve at least some of the senior pilots to create the frantic rush situation." He scratches his jaw. "What you'll have to decide is if you're going to advise the senior pilots of the drill ahead of time, or not." Yeah, it's fooling people, but it's testing them, too. "So overall, what I would do is pick a time you want to commence the drill. Inform Tactical, and they will announce the command to launch alert fighters and set Condition One at the specified time. You should make sure that the nuggets know that they are assigned to fighters in the case of an emergency." He pauses. "Does that sound reasonable?"

Komnenos directs another look at Matto as he tears a page out of his battered flight notebook. "Well, I've got a list of the likeliest sequences. Unless you've got a preference, I was just going to go from the top t' the bottom until we found one that worked." He shrugs, smirking slightly.

Matto smiles brightly at Toes, then shoulders off to the side, hurtling slothfully into motion up the ramp and back into the bird. "Okay," he agrees, "You call it, I'll run it?" Much easier than trying to watch the controls -and- read off of a sheet of paper.

Roubani hmpfs under his breath, giving Thorn a mildly amused look. "Should any of the circuits fry," he intones far too gravely, raising an index finger. "I do not know either of you." Some words floating from the other conversation about drills briefly snags his attention and he glances over - catching Praxis' eye looking back. He offers the XO a polite nod, not really able to hear much. And who wants to be caught eavesdropping on the XO, anyway? He looks back over at Matto, loosely folding his arms. "Thorn calls, you run, I'll pray."

Fen nods with her immutable, "of course, sir. I don't expect to need it for another couple of weeks, but I'll put it to Captain Marek tonight." Her eyes turn toward the Raptors again and she comments, "They're good men, sir."

Praxis doesn't hear much on their end either, but when he meets eyes with Roubani, Demitros' eyebrow raises and a sidelong glance is cast to Valasche. "Very good. I'm certain he may see something I do not in the organization in a scramble drill. He is the CAG for a reason, after all." A brief flash of a smile before he nods to the part about them being good men. "I am certain they are. At any rate, will you accompany me in sticking my nose into things?" Without waiting for Fen he stalks towards the Raptor.

"Right," Thorn says crisply, his lips pursed slightly as he looks one last time over the list. His back's been to the XO most of this time, so he doesn't notice Praxis' curious looks or his sudden approach to the Raptor. Until he turns away from the other two towards the Raptor's open hatch, anyway. Komnenos stiffens, his shoulders squaring as he snaps off a hasty salute to the approaching XO. "Evening, Captain."

Take stick, shove firmly up arse. Roubani turns his head as Thorn does and likewise straightens his back and shoulders as the XO stalks their way, papers ended up folded at the small of his back behind him for the formal stance. Yeah, salutin'. That. "Captain, sir."

Dutiful soldier she is, Mud replies with a soft, "On your five, sir." as she starts to follow Praxis toward the ranked pit crew combing over things. in the Xo's shadow, sometime after their greetings are spoken, she gives a deadpan, "Evenin, boys." Casual, that's her.

Matto is already in and halfway into the cockpit before he realizes that there's nobody following him into the thing. He sets down his printouts on the seat, then strides back to the hatch, leaning on the edge of it with one hand as he peers out, "You guys c—Aptain?" Oh, wow, there's a Captain there now.

Captain Demitros stops short of the Raptor and her crew, looking over each of them appraisingly, also peering over and around to see if he can locate Matto, who had disappeared into the vessel. He throws up a salute for formality, and then inspects each of the men in turn - again. Hands folding behind his back. "Good evening, gentleman. A wonderful night for Raptor modification, is it not?" He looks up towards the ceiling in thought for a moment, before it levels back down again. "Would it be correct to say unauthorized modification? I cannot say you look like deck crew…" He's not quite at a chastising tone yet, though. It's more the curiosity speaking.

Komnenos would offer Fenris an equally casual greeting of his own, but the word 'unauthorized' coming from the mouth of the XO is enough to get his attention — and set off little warning bells in his head. "No, sir," he says with a slight shake of the head and arch of the brow. "Captain Marek's authorized this already." His head cocks innocently to the side. "Though if you'd like, I could go steal us some orange jumpsuits as long as we're working out here…"

Roubani, on the other hand, looks unworried at the 'unauthorised' observation. He nods to what Thorn says, pursing his lips against smiling at the very end. It mostly works. He softly clears his throat. "We're looking at a possible tactical manuever, sir. Captain Marek asked for it to be tested on the Raptors themselves. He's spoken to deck about it." Which probably explains why deck isn't pitching fits.

Gresham arrives from the Hallway - Deck 1, Fore.
Gresham has arrived.

The authorization of the event being thoroughly covered already, the Kissybear has nothing in particular to add, so he just lowers his chin in a casual nod. A-yup.

At the explanations that are offered in his direction, the stalwart Captain again looks upon each of them in turn, a sort of death glare offered to each as if he was trying to determine if they were telling the truth or not. Thorn is then locked onto, arching a brow. "That is absolutely preposterous, Lieutenant." Demitros says with narrowed eyes, before his expression softens and he elucidates. "You in an orange jumpsuit. I am simply just not picturing it." A smile threatens to twitch at his lips. "Excellent. Carry on, gentlemen. Do let me know if you require some extra insight." he offers as Roubani mentions that this is a tactical sort of affair.

Fenris lets things proceeds apace, standing by at th XO's flank in her flightsuit, albeit it's rolled down to the waist, as he socializes with the three Raptors over by one of their birds. As things seem to be casual, she gives a little nod to no one in particular.

"Hnh." Thorn snorts in mild amusement. "Having a little trouble with that image myself, sir." He nods to the XO, his posture relaxing slightly. With that, he turns back to the Raptor, stepping onto the wing and ducking in through the hatch.

There's a sound-racket coming from a corner not too far off from where all the conversation is going on. Apparently someone has tripped and sent tools sprawling on their way to the tool room. Coming up quickly, hands are moving to grab: Nuts, screws, a couple of wrenches, a hammer, and some other valuables which came off and out of a tray that was being carried. And yes small words of frak, and other obscenities being muttered as the newly minted Ensign is hurrying to gather everything up into there right and final places.

Gresham just seems to sigh after a moment as he rolls back to rest on his thighs. A faint frown- before he's rising and brushing his knees off. On the bright side, with becoming an officer he has been allowed his side arm back (Don't worry it is safe in his locker) Also he's gotten a few more pieces of wardrobe- Though one might argue that Blue is not his colour.

Roubani raises an eyebrow slightly at Praxis' offer, looking slightly surprised. "If you had the time, sir." He nods upwards towards Matto and Thorn. "We're not quite at the full strategic stage yet. Right now they're running technical tests. We've got to see if the local miracle-workers can get a Raptor to function at…what was the threshhold figured of the Raider sensors?" That last is called up towards the two poking about in the bird. "Seventeen amps?"

Matto is content to be the quiet one tonight, seems like, just giving the Captain a sly sort of smile as he presses himself to the side of the hatch, letting Thorn pass by. Both brows rise at the clatter from across the room, but he doesn't disembark, just peers and then ducks his head back into the bird, leaving the technical answers to Toes.
Fenris has partially disconnected.

"Seventeen would work. Sixteen would be better." Anton's voice drifts from the Raptor a moment before he himself appears in the hatch, leaning slightly outside the entrance to the craft. As it turns out, he's just in time to see Gresham eat some deck, and he shakes his head, chuckling derisively. "Watch your step on the hangar deck, Ensign!" he calls out tauntingly, a wicked smile on his face.

"It would be prudent to have a rather large margin of safety, as Mr. Komnenos has pointed out." Praxis mentions, looking over to Fenris on his flank just to see if she's still actually there, before the XO eyes the location of the noise. A large intake of breath before he sighs it out, letting deck crew handle that. "What have you decided on so far to have the operating power that low?"

Roubani glances over at Gresham, giving the poor Ensign a mild half-smile. Praxis' question, he lets Thorn and Matto field. He's somewhat out of his league where Raptors are concerned.

Fenris looks back over her shoulder at the indicated Ensign, taking in the disarrayed fellow indifferently, though she does venture that way to offer him a hand up without any comment aside from, "Congratulations."

Thorn's teasing of the nugget is forgotten as he hears the XO's question. "Only what's absolutely necessary t' fly, sir. Basic thrust, passive DRADIS, minimal guidance systems, the like." He gives Kissy a sidelong glance. "It'll fly like a drunken pig, but according to our test results, the bloody thing will fly."

"yes, Sir!" caled out from where he is busy gathering up his crap, before soon enough he's coming up and heading back into the tool room, gone for a bit of moment, a long moment before he's coming back out with a bit of a red tinge on his face, fingers moving to rub under an eye, before steps having him heading over to the bird, where everyone is congregating. Hands moving to rub down over his knees as eyes look over to Fenris- a slight nod and then eyes over to Thorn

"Salutations, chums." comes Virgil's words as arms go to fold over his chest. Apparently it seems he is inserting himself in the conversation and camaraderie despite anyone wanting him here or not. "What are we doing?" besides, you know-military stuff.

Matto slides into the cockpit while Toes outlines the basics of the plan to the Captain, prepping to run her up as Toes calls out the systems. He looks back for a brief moment as though sensing the glance cast his way. "It'll be fine. It'd be a lot easier if we didn't have to be able to bring her up to full power until she got back. We could cut the power right from the source and save a lot in terms of failsafes and standby power. But if anything happens out there, we're pretty savagely screwed."

Praxis nods his head slightly to Matto and Thorn, looking over at the newly-minted Ensign for a fleeting moment, but only a fleeting moment because he's engrossed in the situation. "The surplus on the power grid if the reactor is running at full will do you no good whatsoever when you are out there." Of course they have already pondered that. "I believe it would be prudent to have it such that the Raptor will dynamically allocate energy production in accordance to which systems are powered on. It will have the side effect of things being 'flickery', though I'd gather that would be much better than nothing in that aforementioned emergency. You do introduce the risk however, of Raiders picking up very subtle power spikes."

Fenris nods to Gresham, then turns back toward the XO as the Engisn sidles over for some pilot-bonding. In only a few paces, she's back at her place to Praxis' five and watches quietly while they talk shop.

"Testing some theories," Roubani remarks to Gresham, quietly. He seems to content to stay out of RaptorShop for the time being, watching Matto and Thorn converse with the XO for now. "Congratulations, by the way."

A sagely nod from Thorn accompanies Matto's words. "Right. Power systems can be touchy. Send that kind of power through th' grid too fast and y' could short the whole bloody thing out. Then… yeah. Savage screwing." With that, he slumps back into his own chair, turning to look out of the cabin as Praxis speaks. "I'd considered that, sir, and frankly… th' risk of detection was too high, in my opinion."

"What theories?" Might as well ask, otherwise how can one add their own opinions when no one wants them? Gresham looks from Roubani, back towards the Raptor and the two Lieutenants inside. A whetting of his lips, as if he is getting ready to pipe up, but he isn't quite following just yet-

"What are we wanting to do with our systems?" Yeah not on the full sized clue bus just yet. And then as an afterthought there is a blink and a look back to Roubani "Oh, and thank you-Sir."

"Direct manual control." Praxis offers. "Write an interface for reactor controls and have the countermeasures officer manipulate the distribution by hand. A very meticulous task that is going to require a lot of work and simulation, plus I would assume very difficult to get the hang of." The XO shrugs his shoulders - he wasn't involved from the beginning and he didn't know what they thought of. "Eliminates spikes, gives you direct control of efficiency - but introduces human error. Practice makes perfect." Everything is easier said than done, but the Captain is done providing his two cents. "Good luck with that path you choose, pilots." He turns around. "Good work on your new commission, Ensign. Thank you for your time, Valasche." He begins to start away, still very formal in his disposition.

"Captain, that reminds me." Again, Thorn's talking to the XO, calling out after the retreating figure. "I was wondering if I could temporarily requisition a nuke." Oh yeah, he needs to borrow a thermonuclear warhead. No biggie. "Another thing we're working on is how t' deploy a nuke from a low-power Raptor," he explains himself hastily, "an' sims are all well and good, but I'd like t' stage a couple test flights with the real thing, if possible. Have your people in CIC see if they can pick us up, see if our people can avoid detection… you get the idea." A pause. "An' thanks, Captain."

"Run our birds under the cylons' threshhold of detection," Roubani replies to Gresham, succinctly. Exactly why, he doesn't detail, as the technical matter is what they're addressing just at the moment. Half an ear stays on the nerdiness going on nearby, and as Praxis turns away he pauses a second before he speaks again. "Sir?"

A nod and a salute as Fenris replies, "Good night, Captain." before her eyes sweep across the guys to see if there's anything in particular to contribute to this particular conversation.

Matto poises hands over the systems controls in an almost unconscious gesture. Ready to fly, the boy is. "Heh! You know what would be awesome if we could manage it? Stick an extra free-system power generator in here and patch -that- through to FTL &c," he almost snickers at the mental image. "The frame wouldn't feel the current and it would look about five percent as bright as it would outside the ship. Then we can cut out all backup power systems and -just- run cold thrust and passive DRADIS. And have something to boot from in case Operation GTFO becomes requisite."

"Ah." a pause as Gresham accepts the answer without so much of a further peep as to an explanation. Still there's a faint frown as he looks back towards Roubani for a bit. "Well seeing how DRADIS works.. couldn't you always produce a Ghost signal?" Obviously he doesn't know if this has or hasn't been already discussed. "You know send out something like a can or something- that could work for a ghost signal- something to bounce everything off of, so that anything real would be hard to detect unless a visual for thermal scan was given? If anything it might confuse the systems long enough to buy some time?"

Just an idle thought, and with that he is turning and raising a quick salute to the new XO-though Gresham has no clue who the man is. "I know we used to do that in college when we were trying to get around the blocking systems they installed so that some websites and forums wouldn't come in.." Ahh personal computers, them were the days.

Demitros freezes as voices travel in his direction, the executive officer turning around at the mention of the nuclear device, arms coming to fold tightly over his chest at Komnenos. Suddenly he's starting to realize what this plan is all about. "Lieutenant Komnenos, when you and your colleagues have reached the stage in which your project is operating at your specified parameters, speak to me and it will be decided then. I believe the manner in which your deployment will function depends on how you handle -this- problem." He's not willing to give up a nuke until he sees something substantial, in other words. Eyes fall upon Nadiv. "What can I help you with?"

Roubani looks kind of amused at Thorn's question and Praxis' subsequent answer, pushing his lips together to keep the smirk off his face. Ahem, anyway. Quickly to Gresham he remarks, "They'd brought up using sparrows. Swallows?" He mixes those two up all the time. "To mimic a signal like that. Do you think that would work?" Praxis' address brings some more serious back, and he nods to the Captain. His voice lowers sharply, this clearly intended only for the new XO. "I needed to speak with you when you were off-duty, sir. I…" He scratches the tip of his nose. "…told Dr. Locke I would uphold a certain tradition for her, regarding your wedding."

Thorn nods to the XO. "Very well, sir," he says with aplomb. Well, it's better than 'no', anyway. Anton's eyes sweep across Praxis and Fenris before he turns back to his console, looking down his list of sequences. A moment later, his head turns back up towards the cockpit. "Dunno how well that would work, Kiss," he calls out. "Might be worth a look, though, what?"

Gresham shrugs ever so slightly back towards Roubani "It could, if you have enough of them. And really laying them out would be easy enough. Put a transmitter on something you don't mind losing and then jettison it out into space." A grin there before he's looking back towards the XO and then back to Roubani for a second. "Wait- What?" Now he is left in the awkward zone- where should he be- in, in the lion's den with THorn and Matto? Or should he be out here with Roubani and possible awkward talk?

Matto cackles. He can't help it, the image is in his head, now, Raptor toting about its own battery in its belly. "Yeah, it'd be -pretty- ridiculous," he settles down into a low snicker. "Getting it in the door, among other things," he adds with a grin. "Anyhow, we've got twenty two or so sequences to try, let's get started before we're here all night, yah?"

Praxis considers Roubani for a moment or two, suddenly both of his brows shooting up as vertically as they can go. This was to be expected, but some things just catch him off guard. When Gresham goes all awkward Praxis simply shakes his head and calmly responds to Roubani, "Come by my quarters at your convenience, Lieutenant - we'll talk about it then, thank you." he replies - this time turning on his heel and leaving now that hopefully all the business is taken care of.

Roubani doesn't look all that comfortable with bringing this up to Praxis either, and he looks terribly relieved when it's out and done with. For now. "Yes, sir." ANYWAY. Back to Gresham, with a slight half smile. "It's not a bad notion…hmm." He nods Gresh towards the Raptors. "I'm going in for a few. If you wished to come. You'd be less on the same level as furniture than I am up there."

"Yeah. Might have t' pick whether y' want the generator or an ECO in back." Thorn adds to Matto's chuckle with one of his own. "Right, then. T' work." With that, his eyes go back to his notes and starts calling off the first sequence. "Alright, we'll start with engines, then guidance, then DRADIS…" One system after another is placed in the queue.

Praxis heads through the exit labeled <D> Stairwell - Deck 1.
Praxis has left.

"Engines," tap click, "Guidance," click click snap switch, "DRADIS…" Kisseus cues up the systems for booting as Toes calls them off. And they're off to the races. Tens of power allocation combinations and almost as many pots of coffee later, various of the attempts have met with various levels of success and failure. None clearly the best of the whole group, as yet, but a good three or four emerging as front runners. And Kissy feels vaguely as though his eyeballs are about to fall out of his skull. Which is bad, yo.

Gresham offers a nod back towards Roubani "Sure. I need the practice.." Or something. Still there's a look to the others-his ideas are out if they want them, but for now it seems that Gresham will be following Roubani like a wee, red headed shadow. That is what nuggets are good for at least.

Roubani makes his way up into the Raptor, whether or not Gresham accompanies him, and sits like a good little Viper jock in one of the back seats, occasionally offering his two cents from back in the days of making this work on Vipers. Once that list's been pared down he settles back, exhaling quietly. "Congratulations, we are farther than when we started."

Legacy arrives from the Hallway - Deck 1, Fore.
Legacy has arrived.

Matto stays to shut things down again and hand the Raptor over to the deck crew, waving off Toes, at least, who looks more beat than the rest of them put together. Yawning, then, he prowls back out of the cockpit, showing all and sundry his tonsils as he beckons for folk to move it on out. "We're done here for the night, I think. My brains feel like pie."

"Gracious," Roubani murmurs to Kissy, rubbing gently at his right eye. "I'm not certain who to call, medical or the mess." He draws a breath in through his nose that straightens his back, and leans forward to glance at all the notes. "This is good for the night." He taps the pages with his fingertip. "Another day on the bootups, some figuring on these signal mimics, and what to do about the warheads, and we'll certainly have enough to show Marek that it works." He's sitting in Foxbat-7 with Matto and Gresham, raptor hatch open. The bird itself has been recently shut off, still humming, but nobody's wearing helmets or gloves.

Into the Hangar Bay comes Thea, wearing her off-duties, carrying a stack of folders. She has that distant look of a woman with things on her mind.

Gresham is currently with Matto and Roubani in Fox-7 Though he's been quiet through the whole work ordeal and all. Instead he's simply watched- taking mental notes mostly. There's a look between the other two pilots, as one hand moves to rub sleep from the corner of one eye. "I am saying if we can make a beeping sensor that will read as more than trash on the DRADIS, we should be able to cause a net, or mirror effect." A shrug there "Testing it though-Power source.." that is where he is coming up blank.

"Don't let them eat my brains, N. Least not 'til they've sat out on the windowsill a while. They're still hot and… goopy," Kisseus declares slothfully, leaning on the edge of the hatchway and waiting on them to vacate. Or he might just have decided to fall asleep right there. His eyes try to focus on the Mantuan, but they can't, quite, and whatever he's talking about seems to float straight into his head and out of it again. Blear?

Roubani chuckles undr his breath at Matto. He arches his back slightly, getting a loud crack from some lumbar area. "Do you think so?" He asks Gresham. Not smartassedly. "You may be onto something, Ensign, but gods help me if I can think straight about it just now." He offers Gresham an apologetic half-smile, standing up. "Mull it over and we can all find time to hash it in the morning?"

Voices? It takes a moment, but the sound of voices, particularly coming from a Raptor, catch Thea's attention. She pauses and listens for a moment, then smiles a bit. "There'd best not be any shenanigans going on up there," she comments, walking toward Foxbat-7.

"I'll have to write it down over a huge cup of coffee, and something than less tears." Virgil comments back, as he waits for Roubani to slip out of the Raptor, before he's rising up himself to scuttle out as well. There's a look back over to Kisseus for a second, as one hand moves to rub, just so under his left eye. "Do brains work like pies?" An idle thought right there. Random. And then is someone calling about Shenanigans? "Huh?" the Ensign gives as his official answer when his Ginger head pops out.

Matto leeeeeeaaaans. His degree of incline keeps getting more and more pronounced the longer he leans there against the inner egde of the hatchway out of the Raptor. Yeah, it's way past Kissy's bedtime. "Legsykitten, I couldn't shenanigan right now if you paid me. Well. Maybe if you paid me. Or asked pretty please." He wrinkles up his nose at the mention of coffee, "But no more coffee. If I see another cup of coffee I'm going to throw up."

Roubani exhales a very long breath through pursed lips, rolling his shoulders and following Gresham down the ramp. A nod's given to the Ensign at his mention of writing it all down, then: "I'm afraid not, Captain. Time and place and all that."

Thea eyes the three of them for a moment before she simply smiles. "It looks like I have two Lieutenants who need to spend quality time with their racks, and one of my nuggets with whom I've yet to spend any quality time." She doesn't look much more awake than Matto. "Please no regurgitation, Madman. You'd have half the ship joining you." No, she doesn't ask what they were up to.

"Not now." Virgil offers back towards Matto as he moves and starts to stretch a little, as if his body is feeling stiff from just sitting there through the various tests and such run on the systems. "Much later, like tomorrow after I have pumped myself with tea, or water. Or both." A lick of his lips. And eyes close for a second. "Though now I can feel sleep burning right on through." a rub of his jaw before a smile is given towards the Captain, "Soon-sir. My duty time will match up, hope."

Matto turns his head to look one more time through the inside of the Raptor cabin. He can't help it. Pure instinct. Especially when he's half running on autopilot. But there's nobody left on board, and so he steps out, clay-footed, clodding down the ramp after the Poet. "You look like you and your rack are in need of a reunion yourself, Kittenlegs," he points out gently.

Crap, notebook. Roubani turns on his heel, half-jogging back up the ramp to grab his papers with a couple rustles. Straightening them up against his knee, he cradles them in the crook of his arm as his boots thump gently back down to the deck. "Of course, Ensign," he says, as to the matter of Gresham needing rest first. "And thank you." He rubs over his cheek with his fingertips, tugging his eye briefly into a weird shape before he lets his face go. A room of tired air wingers, nothing new.

Thea watches Roubani's back briefly before she turns to look at Gresham, both brows going up in mock surprise. It's never good when a Captain gets that look. Or a drill instructor. "Good night, Lieutenant Matto, Lieutenant Roubani," she says quietly, lips turned upward -ever- so slightly in a smile that's not quite a smile. "Get some rest."

Gresham is oblivious as to what the look means. He does however need rest- that much is true. A look over towards Roubani and Matto, as a hand comes up, a wave back to the other two "I am glad I could help sirs." And hands move to his pocket, a pen plucked out and clicked to life, as he makes a small note on the palm of his right hand, before he's clicking it back and sliding it into his pants' pocket. "Sir?" A look back to the Captain for a moment as he is turning on back to the stairwell- apparently sleep is on the current Nugget's mind.

Matto looks moderately perturbed as Nadiv runs back into the Raptor, the act staggering his gait as one leg tries to keep walking for a moment longer than the other. He remains still, back twisted, until the Poet appears again. There's a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that may or may not be connected to the quantity of coffee he'd downed tonight. Thea's sudden transformation into Captain Captain doesn't help him much, and he murbles something obedient-sounding before heading on toward the stairs.

Roubani doesn't quite seem to understand the look and tone either. He scratches his temple, looking mildly confused a moment. "Yes, sir." A last nod to Gresham and then he's following the general herd towards the stairs, canning a yawn behind the back of his hand.

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