A Bumpy Meet
A Bumpy Meet
Arc: None
Summary: It is late evening on 116th and Phillip has been released from medical only to have a bumpy time in FAL, meeting a young pilot from the Illuminati.
Date: 2659.116
Related Logs: None
Participants: Phillip Walzer

2nd Lt. Bradford has just been released from medical and is keen to stretch his legs, so he talks a long walk through the corridors of several decks before finding himself at First and Last. His mind is in a bit of malaise over recent events and he is quite lost in thought as he enters this favored hang out of pilots and crew. The room is a bit light on personnel owing to the long duty hours and locked up alcohol.

The center vid screen is blank. A few pilots glance reflexively at the screen despite knowing there will be no hope of receiving a entertainment broadcasts this deep behind the line. Karl Walzer is sitting alone at a table, balancing a number of empty glasses into a pyramid.

In one of the starboard rooms, a poker game is just letting out. An enlisted man from fighter maintenance pulls the pockets of his overalls inside as he walks out, mumbling "if we live through this, I'll make sure to take care of that IOU."

Phillip heads on upon to bar, lost in his own thoughts and distractedly orders a coke or what passes for coke. The drink itself is little more than carbonated water with a sugar-laced, coke-flavored, acidic powder mixed in… a facsimile that is much better than no coke at all. It is such a poor imitation that some individuals refuse to drink the real stuff while off on RnR to avoid having to relearn to enjoy the powdered stuff.

The enlisted man shuffles over to the bar, accidentally bumping the injured Iceblade as he takes a seat. The mechanic either doesn't notice or doesn't care that he's just knocked into an officer, and tries to order a scotch and water.

Phillip, who luckily hadn't grabbed his drink yet, is too distracted to notice the incoming enlisted man. The rather strong bump nearly results in Iceblade falling to the floor, but thanks to the honed reflexes of a fighter pilot, the young Lt. shifts his weight back to his legs and into a standing position. Unfortunately the jolt did have too consequences with the stool toppling onto the floor and the pilot straining his injured chest. Phillip's now no longer lost in thought and is in fact quite unhappy and glares at the mechanic.

The enlisted man looks over at the racket of the falling stool with an annoyed look on his face, that suddenly turns to recognition. Recognition bleeds into terror. The wrench monkey doesn't know weather to solute, pick up the stool, and manages to very badly do both, while stammering out "Lieutenant, Jesus Christ! I, oh fuck…" Blood drained from his face, sweat beading, he manages to kick the stool in to Bradford's shin before righting it.

Phillip watches with his arms folded as the mechanic fumbles about and then wacks his shin resulting in a very surprised and annoyed grunt from the pilot. "Watch what you are doing lout," he says in frustration. "Seriously, are you drunk or are you always this clumsy?" he adds angrily looking sternly straight at the man's face.

"Sir," the mechanic says, snapping his back ram rod straight, staring a hole into the bulkhead across the room. His saluting hand is trembling at his temple has he manages to croak out "I, no sir, I'm not drunk, sir. Machinist Mate Carlisle, sir. I'm sorry, sir." He manages a sidelong look of horror at Phillip. Tongue unsuccessfully relieving his dry mouth he adds, "Uh, I've been putting your Rapier back together. It's good to see you standing, sir."

Recognition crosses Phillip's face as his brain's facial recognition software kicks in and remembers this lowly spaceman as one of the techs that works on his fighter. Phillip nods and says quietly, "Ah..well that is good to hear, Spaceman Carlisle." Phillip then looks over to the bar and grabs his drink before looking back at the enlisted man. "Just watch where you are going next time, okay. Most pilots get a lot nastier," he says as he starts to walk away. He turns back to see the man still at attention, "… at ease," Phillip adds before heading to one of the tables, which isn't too far from where Waltzer is sitting.

As Lt. Bradford is crossing the lounge, a few other folks are walking out of the defunct poker game. One tall, stocky brunette woman, Captain from Conquistador squadron passes in front of Lt. Walzer's table. "Well, look what I found! Hey, Charlie, someone call the Quarter Master, I just found some lost cargo!" Karl looks up from his palace of drinking vessels. The Captain leans over the tower of glasses "Hey, why don't you come back o my bunk? It's not like you'll be /flying/ anytime soon." She snaps up laughing, her pals escorting her from the lounge.

Phillip looks over to laughing Captain as he is taken from the room with quizzical look on his face before mentally shrugging off that weirdness. He sees the young pilot or rather kid pilot sitting with his pyramid of glasses and decides to across from him. "What was that about?" He asks Walzer quietly.

Without looking up from his glass architectural endeavor, he says "I'm on restricted flight duty. I haven't flown a mission, even cap since my last eject." He glances at the door the Captain and her friends walked of. "I guess if you're not a pilot, you're cargo." Returning his attention to the work at hand, he adds, "I was supposed to meet with the Wing Commander yesterday about getting back on the rotation. I don't know if you heard, we lost some bombers. I guess that's why he canceled our meeting."

Phillip nods a few times as the rookie speaks and then hears the reference to the tragic bomber slaughter from the other day. Phillip continence drops a bit as he sighs, "Yeah. Three of them… including Major Cole. I imagine the Colonel is pretty busy figuring out the best way to plan a rescue." Phillip then adds after a pause, "That's what I hope, at least."

"Well, if the Colonel sends you out to look for him, put in a good word for me, will ya? I'd do anything to get back out there. Anything." With a heavy sigh the younger man pushes himself away from the table and heads down to the officer's quarters.

Phillip nods at the young pilot. "I'll talk to my CO. She might be able to get you in on our next mission," he says as the pilot gets up and leaves. Phillip then sits quietly and drinking… finding his mind falling back deep into his thoughts.