Tyche Very Much
Tyche Very Much
Summary: A blessing/warning/welcome/something is given.
Date: PHD214 (19 November 2009)
Related Logs: Just after: Hot Landing.

CEC Kharon, Hangar Deck, Hangar Bay 1

IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #214
OOC Time: Wed Nov 18 23:38:41 2009

There's activity here at almost every hour of the day. Impact guns can be heard with their shrieking rumble while crew call back and forth, their voices carrying just above the din of the work here. What's readily apparent is that this is the main Hangar Bay for the Vipers, the distance going back further than the other two Bays which are separated by thick, hydraulically rolled blast doors. On each side of the room, near the Fore end, six Viper tubes are ready for quick deployment of the Kharon's Viper squadron. Lining the rest of Hangar Bay One, each Mark Two and Mark Seven has its own place to be kept with a small red toolchest that holds the minimum of required equipment for quick maintenance.

Along the floor, each individual Viper bay is painted off with a single hashed yellow and black stripe. A deep red line denotes important electrical conduits and access ports just below the deck while a bright blue line follows up walls and across the floor to tell where the Tylium lines run in case of fire. Outlets along the wall for the fuel as well as corrugated rubber piping stand ready for use, fluorescent yellow firefighting gear kept in plain sight for easy access nearby.

The marines exit the raptors (2) and head off in various directions, their blacks all speckled with chalks. Some more than others. They head off for the stairwell, presumably to clean up their various messes, and hit the showers.

Roubani parks his Viper, training alert lights still beeping and blinking for the deck crew to shut off. His feet hit deck and he pulls his helmet off, handing it off in silence to a deckie to be cleaned and put away. His manner's reserved as he starts away from the bird, running fingers through matted curls.

Kai pops the canopy of his viper, finishes unsnapping the hardseals on his helmet, and tugs it off. Mm, helmet head. He swings out of his bird and starts down the ladder, dropping down the last couple of feet before being thrust a post flight checklist. "Took quite the pounding out there, Nadiv," he calls across to Roubani.

Matto powers down Foxbat-4 while the infantry disembarks, and he tells his backseater to go on along, herself. He does his customary check of the interior before he steps out onto the ramp himself, helmet under arm.

Eddie waits until she's parked, the ladder is locked, and the deck personnel have cleared before hooking her feet to the rail of the step ladder and just sliding down it the short way to the deck. "Woo, that was fun. Not the CAP part, but…ya know." Eddie beams a smile to her fellow pilots, before snapping up her clipboard and making a short post flight check. "Momma was HOT tonight."

Sparro steps out of his Raptor, looking around with a grin. "Well, that was a good time." he glances in the direction of the marines. "So, did we win?"

Samantha slips down out of her own bird, hair plastered to her throat with sweat as usual. she sweats like a DOG on CAP for some reason, even when things are calm as can be. It matches her glowing cheeks rather well, almost looking fevered for the run. She gives a casual smile to the deck. "Hells yeah. That's the way it works…"

"Yes, sir." Roubani pauses and clears his throat before he answers Kai, glancing back at his CO. "I shouldn't have." This is not his happy face. "Excuse me, I've got to get something to eat before CAP."

Salazar steps out of the raptor last. She's fairly clear of chalk, save her gloves, and a giant splash of it against her neck and jaw. A bruise is already forming there. If they'd been engaged in live fire, she'd probably be dead right now. Still, some of those other marines, from the 'Colonial' side, look like they got dipped in brightly colored chalk vats, they took so many rounds. The S2 pauses to sling her rifle over her shoulder, then pulls off her helmet to run a hand through her hair. Chalky streaks. Marines are messy.

Kai watches Roubani for a few seconds more, as if he might belay that self-dismissal. But he simply nods curtly, and turns back to his checklist. "Debriefing in an hour, so eat fast," he murmurs. Scribble, scribble. There's a flick of his eyes toward the Major, wherever he is in the outpouring of marines, as if he'd like to hear the answer to Sparro's question too.

Cinder stumbles out of the raptor, and thumps onto the deck. Gonna need a nice long shower with all that chalk she's wearing. That, and a bit of ice for the side of her neck. Half her face seems to be covered in chalk, her vest is practically white, and the once-neat bun of blonde hair under her helmet is coming undone, long, loose strands clinging to her wet forehead and back of her neck. Her helmet dangles in one hand, her rifle in the other.

Eddie finishes her paperwork in record time, if only because she's in a rush for her next nicotine fix. Handing the clipboard back off, she slips away towards pilot country to get her smoke on.

Samantha stifles just a bit of a cough, brushing one hand back through her sweaty hair…"Alright…an hour to shower…can do." And with that, she too heads for the hatch, the showers, and to get out of her sauna of a flight suit, unless someone stops her.

"Not sure," Kissy tells the Birdman, "I wasn't sure the etiquette on asking," he adds with a brief chuckle, "We'll probably see a report, though, at some point." He juggles his helmet upside-down and finagles his gloves into it, getting his hands free.

The S2 glances across the Hangar, eyes taking in various pilots disembarking their ships. She smiles slightly, perhaps at their banter, and hangs back as most of the other marines make for the stairwell. Her eyes eventually find the CAG, and settle there for a long moment. She watches him, then answers Sparro's question. "Nope. The hostiles still own the panties. As you can see from the state of the friendlies," she motions after the marines who just left. "They took a beating." Guess which team she was on.

"Understood, sir." Roubani's dark eyes glance over the exiting Marines, flickering from one to the next as Salazar gives her report. Then he turns on his heel and heads out, without another word.

Matto wrinkles up his nose a little at the report, but doesn't seem too completely distressed by it. He lingers back by the bird a short while longer, then moves to head out and get changed.

With the Major apparently preoccupied with other things at the present time, Kai's attention shifts to Salazar when she answers in his stead. The glance from her was missed, and his expression's characteristically inscrutable at the moment— so no telling what's going on in his head. It's probably occurred to him that they just 'lost' their entire attacking force. He drops his gaze again, scratches at his nose absently, and finishes off his checklist in silence.

Sparro walks slowly to Kai's side. "That… isn't heartening, sir." he glances over. "There's gonna be hades to pay for this, isn't there?"

"Luckily," Salazar dusts her hands off a little more, so as to keep the chalk off of her blacks, "The cylons don't have Nikos' on their side. Deadly combination," she notes. MSGT and the S2 were both on the hostile side. "Parts doesn't shrug off chalk like he shrugs off live ammo. The drop was good, but the wirelo was taken out before he could order a strike. It was over in minutes. There'd be hell to pay if we frakked up and lost a real target. There will be briefings and more training."

Speaking of Peri, the large marine returns from dropping his vest and weapon with a fellow marine in a stairwell. The large brown marine heads back across the deck, towering over many of the pilots and the straggling marines. His dark eyes are focused on one man in particular: the CAG.

Kai grunts softly when Sparro addresses him, and keeps his eyes alternately on the boxes he's ticking off, and the strike craft whose engines are still doing the tick, tick, tick of cooling off. "It'll be discussed during the debriefing, Birdman." A nod for Salazar's contribution. "Suffice to say, without looking at the gun camera footage, I don't think any of the fault was yours." Which means he has some idea where said fault lies. And he just isn't saying. There's a glance toward the mountain of a marine heading across the deck. And then another glance when he realises the jarhead's aiming for him.

Salazar notices her cousin when he's about twenty feet from Karim. Her eyes follow his approach silently, and she slides her rifle off of her shoulder. She shakes her head slightly, and then she treks across the deck, headed for the stairwell. Casually. In case the weaponry is needed.

Sparro nods, and starts to head for the racks to change when he notices a mountain heading towards his boss. That noted, he steps over by his Raptor and looks over it. Just in case.

The mountain of Nikos, also known as MSGT, takes a heavy booted stance roughly five feet from the CAG. He stands in a parade rest, posture perfect, arms clasped behind his back. The bulky muscles in his arms cord with the movement, then relax. His tattoos are just visible under the neckline and arm of his tee. "Sir." A deep, gruff voice makes the single word both commanding and also an acknowledgement at the same time. Peri rarely manages to say anything without sounding authoritative.

Kai signs his name, tucks his pen into the clipboard's 'jaws', and passes it back to the waiting mechanic. It takes maybe ten or fifteen seconds for him to accomplish this, which is ten or fifteen seconds of making a man almost twice his size stand there waiting for him. Karim is not a tall man; most of his pilots outdo him. Not to mention beefy marines. "Sarge." He unzips his flight suit to his clavicle, and finally meets Peri's eyes. Nervous? Maybe. "What can I do for you?"

MSGT looks down at the CAG, merely by virtue of his superior height. His chin is slightly raised in a classic marine pose. "I have something you're going to need, sir." Peri is a man of few words. He reaches up to unbutton his pocket, the muscles in his arm flexing with the movement. It's most likely not a weapon he's going for. The man barely needs one.

Well, unless Peri keeps beatdowns in his pocket, Marek should be safe. Right? A muscle in the CAG's jaw tics subtly, but he's otherwise still, and silent. At least they've got that much in common.

A gold coin, seeming very small in the wide, meaty hands of the large marine, is offered over in the palm of MSGT Nikos' hand. On the face carved a likeness of Tyche, the goddess of chance. On the verso of the coin is stamped a cornucopia under wings. The wall of marine stands there, silent, as if he could hold the coin in offering forever.

Sparro tenses, then looks down at his hands and starts chuckling. What the hell would he do, if this went bad? He supposed he could always jump in his Raptor and run the guy over. A few times, just to be safe.

Kai's eyes flick from the coin on Nikos' palm, to the man's face, then back again. For a moment, the noisy industry of the hangar bay's forgotten, and it's just that coin sitting there. Seeming almost awkward about the whole affair, he nevertheless accepts it, and turns it over twice between his fingers. "Thanks." It's accompanied by a fleeting smile. And a kiss given the 'face' side of the coin. He holds it up as if to show he's still got it, then tucks it into an inner pocket of his flight suit. "I don't know if she's talked to you, but.. I'd like it if you could show up. On sunday."

MSGT regards the CAG for a long moment, his dark eyes fixed on Kai. "May the Gods be with you, sir." He nods slightly, just a slight drop and raise of the head. "I'll be there. I would not miss it." There's something in just those few words that suggests there may be a reason for nerves. But the massive Nikos could just be playing with the CAG a little. He raises a sharp salute. "That coin has always brought me luck, sir." There is an implication. It is clear. In case it is not, Peri vocalizes, "You will need it."

Salazar just continues on her silent path toward the door, only the sound of her boots light on the deck ushering her way. She so didn't see that. Even if she did, she sooo didn't.

Sparro sees the scene become friendly… at least kind of… and with a bit of a sigh goes back to his post-flight, only to find it mostly finished, anyway. Grabbing his tools, he exits, stage thataway. This moment is for the CAG… even if it would probably be repeated later. With embellishments. And Sparro being significantly more manly.

Sparro is noted briefly, where he's hiding out by his raptor; the CAG's sharp eyes don't miss much. Salazar, too, might be spotted slinking away. But she is pretty sneaky, so maybe not. "Your vote of confidence is noted, Nikos." Amused, maybe a little. But he's not above being nervous, where the situation warrants. "Enjoy your evening." The salute's returned with a crispness only a veteran soldier could muster, and on that note, he strides off through the throngs of orange coveralls-clad technicians.

MSGT turns on his very dusty boot, and exits toward the stairwell with a crisp, heavy booted gait. His exit is soon lost in the noise of the deck, but the large man moves with such authority, that more than one orange clad technician skirts out of his path. And thus, the Nikos blessing/warning/prayer/sympathy/welcome is given.

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