Work In Progress
Work In Progress
Summary: Komnenos and Willem discuss a stalled side project, joined later by Persy. Meanwhile, the CAG breezes through, and he's as vociferous as ever.
Date: PHD109 (5 Aug 2009)
Related Logs: None

It's a quiet afternoon in pilot country. Mostly quiet, anyway; there's a soft clang of metal as the Raptor berthing door opens. Komnenos exits his quarters, wearing off duty tanks and smoking a cigarette.

Did someone forget proper hatch etiquette? It would appear that the corresponding door to the Red Berthings has been propped open as Wil, decked out in his duty greens, makes his way back and forth to retrieve his matching-hued satchel. "'Lo, Thorn." Comes a simple, distracted-sounding greeting. He pauses a moment as if fishing for the words. "You wanted something the other night, right?"

"Rebound." There's a bit of surprise in Komnenos' tone as he returns the other pilot's greeting; he must not have noticed the Red hatch open. "Yeah, actually." An exhalation of smoke punctuates his words. "Captain Legacy told me the other day you're working on some kind of project with th' sims."

This results in a pause on the part of the Viper pilot as he lets out a quiet 'hmm' and cups his fingers to his chin. Then he exclaims, "OH! Well. That. Not so much an official project, just frustration with updates. If she heard about that she probably got it from Matto. He walked in on me trying to apply some template updates that I got from a couple different sources. Basically," He continues, letting the hatch pull shut behind him now "I noticed that a lot of the old values for Raider specs in Atmo combat were noticably obsolete. I had to tweak them a little but ended up breaking the sim functionality in the process. Matto helped me get that back in line."

Thorn nods slowly as Willem explains. There's an interested look in his eye; Willem seems to have garnered the ECO's complete attention. Even before the pilot is finished speaking, the wheels in Thorn's mind are visibly turning. "Hm." Thorn nods slowly. "Might I be of help?" He raises an eyebrow as he takes another drag. "You know the ships and the appropriate parameters, I can handle coding." He shrugs. "Meaning no disrespect t' you or Kissy, but neither of you are exactly trained computer programmers."

A shrug ensues on Wil's part in apparent, relieved agreement. "No arguement from me there. I never really considered going down that path in school, so in this case, the proverbial shoe fits." He summons up a fleeting half-smile as he says this. "Any pointers I got were of a theoretical nature. The templates needed to be flat-out recreated, not just tweaked. 'Least that's what I got from Lt. Tanner but the whole thing was a giant game of 'telephone' as the problems I brought her were second-hand. Think we need someone with flight training and sim knowledge and that leaves an -obvious-" the ginger-haired pilot punctuates this with a simple point in Thorn's direction, "Choice. If you've got the time, you'd be appreciated. There might be beer in it too although that's -kind- of on the down-low."

An eyebrow crinkles. "Understandable. As I told Cat, the sim templates on this ship are probably years old. The programmers likely were using data from the First War t' program the parameters for the Aggressor craft. They could only guess as t' the improvements the Cylons would make over 50-odd years. It's no wonder the templates are frakked." Thorn's beginning to ramble now as he's confronted with the prospect of computer tinkering to be done. "On the other hand, we have enough experience with the toasterfrakkers t' construct much more accurate templates." He pauses. "I'm in. Let me know when you want t' get started, what?" Komnenos' lips quirk in a not-quite-smile. "Though you can keep the beer. I'm more the brandy type. Or anything hard, for that matter."

"Bingo. Ex-actly." Wil's fingers snap as he lets his left hand fall to his side, weighing the issue in eager agreement. Energy level rising. "At first, I think they just used reskinned models with the exact same flight parameters that we encountered decades ago. Wasn't exactly any updated intel." Tap-tap-tap, as his boot starts going, tapping against the cool metal of the floor. "Since then? You pretty much nailed it. Most of my adjustments have been manual and by 'fee' after reverting to memory, flight logs and cam footage." He pauses a little bit to wrinkle his nose and say something probably -nobody- wants to consider. "I don't even -want- to contemplate what Baseships are upgraded to."

Komnenos nods sagely. "There was only so much they could assume." He twitches at the mention of Basestars. "Something none of us wants t' see up close and personal, I'd imagine." He begins pacing up and down the corridor, exhaling clouds of cigarette smoke as he moves. "Well, as I said, you give me the specs and I can code them into the computer." His head tilts to the side. "I was already thinking of writing a scenario or two for the sims, but this is even better."

"Believe me." Wil says as he stands in the hallway outside the respective pilot berthings, in his duty greens, jacket hanging open and unfastened. "I -feel- the same way but it's one of those things I can't ignore." He seems slightly hopped-up on the subject as he chats with his neighboring Squadron's ECO, open hand leaning against the wall while he adjusts a matching olive drab satchel hanging over his shoulder. "You ever look at those old reels? Remember the -size- of those things? Those Raiders are coming from somewhere and believe me, I can't ignore this idea no matter how hard I try." He suddenly snaps his mouth shut a second as he clears his throat, looking at the other man a bit awkwardly as if maybe he just took this topic a bit too far. "Specs are somewhat programmed under some templates I was mucking around with, check Gamma-Oh-Oh-Three-Eight, but I kept this. Just in case." With that, he fishes in his satchel for a small bundle of papers and pulls one out, holding it aloft.

"In Caprica City, where the girls are so pretty, I first laid my eyes on sweet… uhm… what's her name…" The far-more-cheerful-than-tuneful little ditty precedes Persy's arrival by several beats, just before the ECM officer herself strolls 'round the bend. She brightens at seeing Wil, though she spends a few moments elaborately attempting to beat back the smoke before she comes closer. "Hi, guys!" She coughs. "Oy-frakking-vey, Thorn."

Komnenos was pacing up and down the hallway, but now he's stopped to grab a piece of wall to lean against as he smokes a cigarette. "Oh, I didn't mean t' imply we ignore them. Damn handy training tool, actually, t' let our people see how they'd fare against one." There's another nod from the ECO. "Yeah, I've seen them. Big sons of bitches, they were. Can't imagine they'd have gotten any tamer since." Thorn leans forward as Willem offers him the sheet of paper. He takes it, studying it with a thoughtful frown. He only reads a few lines, though, before Persy's voice grabs his attention. There's a slight scowl at her comment. "Yeah, and?" Her reaction doesn't stop him, as he continues to puff away just as he had before.

"Everything I got in the academy was second-hand. This old crusty Colonel who remembered my grandfather gave me a speech outside class one day." Wil goes tearing on on the subject of basestars for a second, a little distantly. Whatever the speech was though gets shelved, at least for the moment as he clears his throat, wheeling a bit on his foot as the blonde CIC Officer rolls into view. Looks between her and Thorn. Blinks as he takes a breath and the wheels in his head turn as he gets one of those awkward 'I'm thinking of what to say but trying to keep it from spilling out in a mess' looks. Finally, he just cuts in. "Speak of the proverbial…So, Lt. Praxis last night said -someone- was responsible for a bit of wizardry out there. So I'm guessing -you- are 'Lt. 'Free Kills'?" His mouth twitches into a slight budding of a smile as he amends, going back and forth between the two again. "Actually, now that I think about it, we were discussing those Sim overhauls I was talking about the other night."

"And oy-frakking-VEY!" Persy gives Thorn a look of duh. "Look. You smoke like it's your destiny. I can respect that. But such heroic lengths will occasionally elicit comment. I'm sure you understand."

She grins at Wil's new appellation for her. "How awesome! I wonder if that'll replace 'Fallout'?" Her eyebrows perk at the mention of the sims. "Oh? Cool. How's that coming along?"

"Not really, but I'll try not t' hold it against you," Komnenos replies to Persy with a crinkled eyebrow. He shrugs, leaning back against the wall as the two of them fall into their own conversation.

The immediate reaction on Wil's part is a slight narrowing of eyes and wrinkling of features at the smoking conversation. He's not partaking, true, but a few years of the habit under his belt before he recently quit in the last couple of months and just the ubiquitousness of smoking around him in Pilot-land have probably dulled his sensitivity to smoke. His shoulders tense for some reason and then relax as said tension subsides and he suddenly launches into conversation again.

"Yeah. Well. I don't know exactly how you were able to disrupt them but that was…" He searches for the words appropriate and the half-smile returns in Persy's direction, tentative as it is. "Thanks." He steps away from the wall now and addresses the other part. "Well, as I was telling you, Thorn," A gesture to the ECO, "I managed to completely corrupt the copied templates I was working on rebuilding. Kisseus Matto helped me undue my bumblefrak but I was left with unsatisfactory results. I know the numbers, true."

Wil finishes, abashedly, "Uhh. But if I do that again I'll probably end up destroying the sim console. The Raiders in the template just -hung- in the air in atmo and flickered. Failure." He coughs, less due to the smoke and more to cover any residual embarassment. "So, Thorn would be a help."

Persy flashes Thorn the sunniest of sunny smiles. "Swell!" See? That was easy.

She laughs abashedly at Wil's thanks. "That's what ECM's FOR, silly." And her face scrunches with sympathy over the simfail. "Ow." Thorn gets a glance. Her eyebrows confer with her hairline. "I didn't know you were a tech-head, Rosebud."

Who else should come trudging down the hall from the direction of the stairwell, and blundering right into the midst of the conversation, than the CAG. He does live around here, after all. In full flight gear at the moment, with his helmet under his arm and a few pressure seals being popped as he moves, Kai looks up from the deck long enough to nod curtly to the trio. He looks about as sweaty and helmet headed as one might expect, post-CAP.

Thorn's not the sunny type himself, and Persy's bright smile leaves him unmoved. He bristles ever so slightly at the nickname, but he simply nods in response. "Master's degree in computer science before I joined." He straightens as Kai comes around the corner, offering the CAG a nod. "Captain." Then, back to Persy with a quirk of the lips that doesn't quite make a smile. "So yeah, you could say that."

"Yeah. Well. It's rare and if we had a few more of those happen throughout the fleet," Wil attempts to amend this bit of thanks with something a bit more substantial and frowns. Gratitude fail, as he just road the failtrain into uncomfortable-subject-town. "You get it." One more of those abashed smiles at the CIC Officer and he comments on Thorn's prowess. "Well, he is. Apparently I am not-so-much." A point to the ECO and suddenly, oh wait.

"Sir." Rebound straightenes suddenly and gives the oncoming CAG a quick salute. Almost like he was up to something.

"Hi, Sir!" Persy beams at the CAG. She is — need we even say — just a generally smiley person. But there's a little something of the groupie in her greeting for Kai. Captain Rockstar. He's saved, perhaps, by the fact that she has the attention span of a gnat on speed. "Good on you!" she approves of Thorn's skillset. "We should break something, sometime." And to Wil, "We're here for you, baby."

Up to something or not, Kai doesn't seem like he'd have a snowball's chance in hell of noticing it right now. He returns the salute, grunts something that sounds like "Lieutenants", and shoulders his way on through. Thud, thud, thud. The hatch wheel is spun, and he's about to vanish on through when something seems to occur to him. He pauses, and turns toward Persy, blue eyes catching hers — or attempting to — in a dead-on stare. "That was some good work you did up there last night, Tanner." There's a weight to his words, that might bely their simplicity. Then a small nod, before he steps on through the hatch and is gone.

Anton relaxes as the Captain passes by without incident. He watches the door for a moment, even after Kai passes through it, but is silent. Finally, there's another puff of smoke and Komnenos is once again leaning indolently against the nearest slice of bulkhead. His head flicks to and fro restlessly, though, and his eyes keep sneaking down to the piece of paper in his hand. "Sure thing," he utters absently to Persy as he starts once again pacing the corridor. Whatever it is Willem gave him has him absorbed now, and he mumbles to himself every few seconds as he paces.

"I know." Maybe a twinge of awkward but Wil simply tosses this out there to Persy and he maintains at least a semblance of cheer. A throat-clearing as the wheels start turning in his head. He brings his hand to his chin idly. He gives her a slight look at Kai's praise that quite plainly says 'see?' but neglects to comment as he mulls over his next thought. His shoulders relax as the CAG slips into the hatch.

"Breaking something. That's just the point. You got the ball rolling with the template recreation concept, so to speak," to the woman, "And you seem to have an idea of how to proceed." To Thorn. "I know what the raw values are supposed to -be-. I rolled out of the Academy able to recite old-style Raider turn-rates in my sleep. And there are other unknown factors. Ionized radiation vulnerability. Ballistics upgrades. Whatever those Heavy gunships can do." He trails off now as he eyes the paper in Thorn's hand as the seeds of something may have been planted. "This is -something-, anyway."

BUH. Kai might only have Persy's attention for a second or two more, but he REALLY has it. She blushes to her hairline. "Just… doing my job. Sir," she tiny-voices, stupefied as he passes into the berthings. Once he's gone, she twirls and thunks against the bulkhead like she was spun by a physical whallop. "Wow." She giggles. "That was /awesome/."

Recovering from her little episode, Persy tunes back in to the conversation about sims. "I did?" she asks about the templates, pleased. "I'm made of win! Go, me!"

As it happens, Thorn is facing the other two when Persy nearly swoons, and the bubbly young woman gets a skeptical eyebrow from Komnenos before the ECO looks back to his sheet. "We've got enough data in the computers, I think, that I can adequately program the simulation computer with those factors," he replies to Wil distractedly. "Should be enough t' at least make the parameters plausible." A ghost of a smile plays across his lips. "If anything, I'll just try t' err on the side of caution. Tougher the sims are, the more ready you lot'll be t' face 'em for real."

One of the vocational side-effects of Wil's chosen career is the ability to multi-task and weigh several aspects of a situation at once with a casual ease. This occasionally gives him the air of being twitchy or scattered but no, really, he's paying attention to both of them here. "You just got Spider'ed, Lieutenant." He scrounges up a bemused-enough smile that lingers. He's been on the receiving end of this before, it seems. "And yes. The templates. That was a while ago, but," He taps his forehead with an index finger softly. "I took it to heart."

He also addresses Thorn now as the smile fades a little. "'Our lot' needs as much of an ass-kicking on those things as it can get. I had a penchant for sim self-abuse and have never been the type to punch the console when I frak up." Ever-patient, the Libran pilot is.

"Ow. Yeah. See. Punching inanimate objects? It hurts." Persy gives it a beat, then reveals, "And they don't care."

She looks terribly pleased by how this conversation's rolling though. Thorn gets an approving smile, carcinogenic haze and all. "So you've really got the chops to make this happen, huh?" she looks impressed. "Can I watch?"

If he weren't looking so distracted, Komnenos might have the presence of mind to be mildly offended by that 'really' in her voice. He's barely paying attention to what's going on at this point, though; in fact, her words barely register at all. "Eh? Oh. Uh, knock yourself out." He exhales after a drag, adding further to the carcinogenic haze around him. "Not likely t' be the most exciting thing in the world…" Thorn gives another noncommittal shrug.

"It's a waste of energy and doesn't make you feel any better." Wil notes with a slight droop of his chin as he weighs the situation. "That too. At least, I noticed it when I tried. Punching walls and shit." Wait. Punching walls. Wil? Slipping into 'facilitating conversation' mode he kicks in some of that natural diplomacy. "It'd be more exciting than watching me break the console and getting way too personal with the Captain's boot." He throws out there, a little awkwardly. "Anyway. The values should be all there. I wonder if the nebula th-" He suddenly snaps his mouth shut. "Eh, sorry. I'm just speculating."

"See, but there you'd be wrong. I get off on hexadecimal, big time." Persy pauses. Reflects. "Uhm… not like your 'I defiled a raptor' story, but… you know. Machine code. Mm, mm good." She grins at Wil and shakes her head, bumping him with her hip. "You're allowed to speculate. It's not like we just love you for your body."

Thorn utters a sudden burst of laughter at Persy. "Right, then, be my guest." A grin finally intrudes on his heretofore blank expression. "I'll try not t' disappoint." Then, a look over at Wil. "Yeah, this looks fine, Rebound. I'll have t' get into the sim computers t' see what we're working with, here, but I think you've got everything covered."

Wil's immediate reaction to this is one of surprise and a little half-cough, half-laugh. "I'd hope not." He begins, as he gets, well, bumped, and slaps his palm to his mouth to muffle the following surprised, slightly self-deprecating snicker. "There's not a whole lot to work with." It's clear, though, that he's on the verge of losing his carefully controlled composure at Persy's antics. "Ummm."

Finally, though, he manages to keep it together, at least for the sake of acknowledging Thorn. "That reminds me. Stay away from the Raptors. But I digress. That -should- give you the base values to accurately model enemy performance on. I also included some idle projections of, eh, those things-I-hope-we-never-encounter but we have nothing to base them on. Tell me what you think?"

Persy winks at Thorn, then stifles a sudden yawn. "Oh, bleedin' bacchae, I'm SO beat." She shakes her head. "I was just coming over here to say goodnight after shift, and look what you guys dragged me into with the talking and the… talking." She nods. Because she's SO hard to drag out. Srsly. "You might want to avert your virgin eyes," she recommends to the ECO, then grabs Wil and plants one on him. It's a totally egregious, get-a-room PDA.

Thorn raises an eyebrow, giving Persy a look. Like he's never seen that before. The amused glint in his eye seems to suggest he's seen a lot more than that, actually. His eyes shift to Willem. "Well, you have a point… we've got nothing t' base them on. But your projections seem t' be suitably intimidating. Like I said, though, I'll be able t' give you more feedback when I actually get into the computers." His pacing carries him over to the Raptor berthings' door; he pauses. "Rather bushed myself, actually. I'm scheduled for CAP tomorrow, Rebound, but I'll get down t' the sims and start poking around when I get back."

Oh. Uh. Well. Wil accepts this gesture with a shockingly unusual lack of awkwardness or shame. "'Scuse me" is really the only formality he throws at Thorn as he gets planted. And plants -back-. Take that, rumormongers. Oh well, it's really not that exciting. Throwing his free arm about Persy's shoulder for just a second or so, he mutters, "The visit's appreciated. Come by anytime and class up this joint. Gods know, we need the cheer." A pause. "At least -I- do." Now he smirks all demure-like and simply finishes, "Sleep well, you. You'll hear me yammering on CAP, I'm sure."

A sidelong glance to Thorn as he sort of irons out the rest of the details verbally, "Umm. Uh. Right. Intimidating? I went for 'suitably intimidating' on purpose. Still, let me know if you recommend logistical changes. I'm flexible." A final look between the two and his gaze turns a bit more serious. "Thank you. Thank you -both-."

Persy rubs the tip of her nose against Wil's, mm-ing happily. "Good night, Pookie." She steps back, shooting Thorn a big smile and a wave. "Night-night, Rosebud." And off she goes.

"Yeah, can do, Rebound." Thorn briefly watches Persy go before he turns back to the hatch. "Rosebud?" he mutters softly to himself. "I mean, where th' frak… Rosebud?" There's a shake of his head, and on that note, he heads into the berthings.

Wil just takes this in stride, although there is a bit of an almost-comic grimace which starts to take hold of Wil's features. He keeps it in check though. Right. Straightening, he just watches Persy walk off with a bit of a bewildered but not-really-bothered shaking of his head. As she finally disappears, he catches Thorn with one last thing. A shrug. "Some things just remain a mystery, Thorn. Libran women." It's a totally bogus explanation, for sure. Giving the man an awkward smirk, he starts to take off down the hall.

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