Bar Room Replacements
Bar Room Replacements
Arc: None
Summary: As the news of the enemy fleet at the jumppoint fully spreads throughout the ship, several of the pilots and crew are trying in First and Last to grasp their increasingly desperate situation without the solace of alcohol.
Date: 2659.244
Related Logs: None
Participants: Silence, Azran, Seelig, Singh

As the news of the enemy fleet at the jumppoint fully spreads throughout the ship, several of the pilots and crew are trying to grasp in First and Last, their increasingly desperate situation without the solace of alcohol.

A large technician enters the bar, he's waiting for the barman to serve him up. "'Ey, think ya can get something darker than water here?" He sees no response and leans over, grabs a glass and fills it with porter on the tap.

A few moments later, Azran enters the bar, stooping to slip through the pitiful hooman sized door and spreading back out to his proper size once inside, stopping to scan the room before proceeding to the bar.

"Ah, our resident Ulanna. How's the new stick doing for ya?" the technician asks.

Azran turns his head to the portly mechanic, tilting his head, "…Oo…" Obviously not getting it before shaking his head and moving on, "It fits my grasp and has not broken. It will suffice."

Seelig says, "Wasn't too sure about the knurling to be frank… our tools being what they are, gotta piss with the dingus mother gaea bestowed upon ya."

Azran stares blankly at the hyper eloquent tech guy for several long awkward seconds before slowly turning away, "Yes, quite…"

Dressed in a uniform that still bears the logo of the ISS from the Troy system, Jamie makes his way in with his eyes glued to the regs book he's clutching in his hands. He looks exhausted, like most of the young emergency transfers from the Troy system who came in a couple of weeks ago. A couple of meters into the lounge, he stops short, looks up, and his eyes widen.

No doubt, it's the first time Jamie's seen the Kilrathi in person. Maybe any Kilrathi.

Seelig furrows his brow and wipes his forehead… Missing all the slag stains showing the periphery of where his visor was resting minutes ago…

After being stared at for a moment, Azran turns to give Jamie his full attention… His full, pants darkening, attention, "….Can I help you?" He asks in the horribly growly voice of a space kitteh.

"Well punch my nuts and call me skeeter, a new convoy's arrived." Seelig inspects the new recruit… seeing no squad badge… "Let's see here, a 2nd lt… still holding the book… I'm guessing… Gladius experience? My god, he still has the factory fresh seal!"

The young pilot trainee can't be older than his early twenties, and he looks young even for that. Smaller than most male humans, it certainly doesn't help him look like he's in any way capable of standing up to said space kitteh.

"…No," he finally says, averting his eyes and desperately turning his attention toward the bald man. "Uh. Name's Reynolds. 1087th Squadron… trainee."

Azran lets out a single puff of what might be a chuckle, "A whelp, hmm? Fear not, kitten, you will have more blood than you can handle all too soon, I assure you."

At Jaime's introduction, Azran straightens a bit and salutes, "2nd Lt. Azran nar Kiranka. It would seem we may be on each other's wing soon."

"Ten eighty sevens? You two are wingmen… this is rich, I gotta expand one rapier's cockpit, then… adapt the other… So Reynolds, sir" He gives a casual salute "Ever been in a rapier?"

"The faqing eggheads outdid themselves on the specificities…” Seelig continues. “Multi-phased shields, but ferro fibrous armour… and the four thirds of the time the custom panels don't seal just right… Take my advice kid, don't take that near an atmosphere."

Hesitantly, and with the sort of reluctance that Azran is no doubt extremely accustomed to, the young man straightens up and returns the salute, finally lifting his head up - way up - to meet the Kilrathi's eyes. Oh, there's a little fire there, in Jamie’s expression.

"You're a pilot?" Silence asks, after a second. "In a Rapier?" He seems utterly unsure of what to say at first, as he slowly relaxes his stance and glances around at the others. "Wait. You guys are hazing me, aren't you?" This whole concept of a Kilrathi wingmate seems to have Jamie so flabbergasted that he can't even think about the technical stuff Seelig's saying to him.

Jaime's reluctant manner causes Azran's eyes to narrow and his ears to pin back, only lightening up when Jaime musters his chutzpah and meets his gaze, "Yes, I am. Two kills in the last outing, still getting accustomed to the Rapier's eccentricities." At the question of hazing, Azran's ears flit curiously about, eventually turning to Seelig as if expecting coherent answers.

Seelig says, "Welcome to the war kid, this is as sick a joke as they make 'em. This Kaga here is flying probably as your lead. You'll meet others soon on a continence of them still being alive."

"Eh, you'll see… It's a decent team…” Seelig continues. “Gotta keep ‘em together though… you won't believe how often they barely come back alive. I probably went through 18 kilos of Cungsten Tarbide in the last two weeks welding the ships back together."

Jamie is already of a pale complexion, so the way he goes even paler when the old tech tells him that Azran may well be his flight leader isn't flattering. A glance over there at Seelig, a pause, then he looks back up at Azran.

"I guess you being out here flying on a Terran carrier makes about as much sense as me being here. Sorry. None of this is… how I expected it to be. I'm not a combat pilot, I'm a security guard."

"You know… just watch out for that jabberbox… or the diva… or that kid who thinks he's Legolas…" Seelig comments. "'e's aight though… helped sort the missiles when the firmware needed updating."

Seelig continues, "Oh yeh… Legolas…. or… Strakha… I think… Haven't had much time to practice… "

Azran shoots Seelig a glare, a quiet roar broiling up before he looks back to Jaime, "…In our last outting, we lost our wing commander, Captain Espinosa. Further, my own craft, and that of 2nd Lt. Karde required significant repairs."

He then turns forward and 'requests', "Water." Before looking back, "If you are a guard, you are a combatant. When the Kilrathi come, they will not care if you are a pilot, a technician, or civilian, they will kill or enslave you just the same should you not do so first to them."

"Dor-chak, aaats it." Seelig says. "What? she's dead? News don't travel… Sorry to 'ear it mate. Yer birds are in the queue… 'ey'll be done after the broadsword."

Seelig checks his wrist quine. "Faq! they keep me in the dark, and feed me drek, how am I supposed to keep afloat."

Azran glances back to Seelig, "Not dead. Worse. I am told she is all but certain to lose her legs, and furthermore, that her combat career is over."

A roar from Azran is guaranteed to get a flinch from the young man, and Jamie is finally reminded that he came here for a drink when the Kilrathi orders his own. "And lemonade," he asides to the bartender, before stepping over to settle against the edge of the bar. Still keeping one eye on the cat, though.

For a few moments, he listens and processes. "I'm sorry about the Wing Commander and the others. I think me an' the rest of the guys from ISS are here to, uh. Fill out the rosters." He deliberately seems to avoid saying "replace them."

"Damn, girl had some fine gams, the mouth was the issue." Seelig sighs… "But that's not the end then…" He raises his head as if divine inspiration just struck him…

Seelig notes, "Ya know… I may be able to do something with this…. " He grabs a few cocktail napkins… "Some actuators and a couple vans, a neodidlium resonator here… a full bridge rectumfryer…" He is doodling.

Seelig pages his pad… "Ey mike, Dallas here… the squad leader in medbay?… OK I see… recovery… yahuh… coma… FAQ… Ok… when she wakes up, show her this… " He takes a picture of the napkins and leaves the bar.

Azran glares disapprovingly at Seelig for several seconds before turning his gaze back to Jaime, "It is likely to be a permanent replacement." It seems beating around the bush is not a Kilrathi strong suit, "I advise you learn your way around the TCS Majestic quickly. We are expecting another engagement in the near future."

"Got some fabricobling to do."_Seelig leaves the bar._

Azran turns back to the bar as Seelig leaves, carefully taking up his water, "Yes, yes, you do that…"

And as if magically plot driven to avoid confusion, Singh arrives 30 seconds later.

Jamie finally calls to Seelig, "Good to meet you." Whether he's lying or not, Azran still has his guarded attention quite thoroughly. Picking up his lemonade, he takes a swallow and shifts his eyes back up to the Kilrathi. "…I'm learning the ship. I'm flying the sims. But no one's going to make me or the others fight yet, right? I mean…" He gestures vaguely around him. "I feel like I can barely maneuver a Rapier right yet… I couldn't fight in one!"

"Man, Jacquelin is brutal at backgammon. Oh, Hi Big Guy." Singh says as she enters.

Azran slowly turns down to look at Jaime, "You are here. You will fight when ordered, as any pilot would." He then glances over to the arriving Jules, giving her a nod and a grunt before slowly draining his water.

Singh is walking towards the bar and stops by doing a heel turn. She susses up Jaime. "Welcome, I'm Julianna." Jules glances at Azran. "Aww… don't scare the new guy… For every mission that ends up with action, we have 12 or 13 empty patrols."

"Wow… you look… young…" Singh comments at Jamie.

Abruptly, Azran seems to have said something that draws Jamie's ire. "Of course, I would," Jamie says, after just a second, and a straightening and squaring of his slim shoulders. "I'm an officer. I'll follow my orders."

Then in comes Julianna, and Jamie seems to relax just a little bit, sort of edging away from the Kilrathi and over toward her. "Jamie. Uh. From the ISS. And I'm twenty-two. Good to meet you."

"You get the tour of the ship yet?" Karen asks. She spots the regulations book being clutched and the Jaimie's white knuckles.

Azran finishes his water and slowly looks back down towards Jaime, "Of course, you will. And in your due time, you will earn your blooding, and be a whelp no more."

Azran then looks to Karen, "Every warrior needs to learn fear. If he cowers before me, an ally, how can he expect to face the enemy?"

"Fear is the enemy, clouds judgement… You want a clear head out there. Just get the job done, and if you're good at it, save as many lives as you can," Singh says.

A slight nod back at Julianna, then he replies. "In a sense. Officer of the day showed me where to stow my gear when me and the other replacements got here. And I've made sure I know how to get to a ship from the flight line quickly. I figure I'll pick up the rest of it over time. She's…. she's a big ship."

Jamie spends another second processing, then shrugs, and nods up toward the Kilrathi and the other human pilot. "Makes sense to me. You two, uh. Both have combat kills, then?"

Azran shrugs, "Thirty-six in total, including the pair from the last outing." He then looks back down to Jaime, "I suspect you've not your first?"

"No, I've killed… at first I felt remorse… hell, I threw up in my cockpit." Singh comments. "Last one felt… empty." Singh then adds, "Almost… good. I don't know what's happening, but I don't like it."

There's one more long moment of silence from the young man when Azran claims he's killed thirty-six. He's young, but he's not too impulsive, apparently. The information would be simple enough to verify, and so it wouldn't make sense to lie about. He swallows and nods up at the Kilrathi.

"No. No combat sorties," he replies after a second. Then, he glances back at Karen. "Maybe because you're saving Confed lives when you do it."

Azran lets out another singular chuckle puff, "You feel good because you are filled with the warmth a victory can bring. A feeling every warrior who lives long enough comes to know well." He says with a fang riddled smile at Karen.

Azran’s maw retracts to its natural neutral stance as he turns back to Jaime, "You will have your chance, whelp. Until then, continue your training, so you are ready when called upon."

"Sorry Reynolds… not that… trying to survive." Karen says as she averts her eyes. "Azran, I know you think differently than me, and you think your answer is the right one… I am not here to debate philosophy, I'm here to keep people alive. I like the people here… they are taking care of me. I take care of them. Doesn't mean for a second, I celebrate killing. Every life we take out there has consequences. This isn't a sim you know. Kills are just a mark on a board… I hope they understand that. " She pauses and looks Azran dead in the eyes "Also, 36 is nothing, I've assisted in stopping someone who had over 400. Didn't stop him from being a monster. We are not monsters"

"Yet…" Karen sighs again

Eyes narrow slightly. Jamies doesn't like being called a whelp, but it doesn't seem like he wants to confront Azran over it at this time. After all, the cat's giving him good advice. Sure, it might've been what he was planning on doing anyway, but it never hurts to have it reinforced. "Yeah. Will do. An' no matter what I think of Kilrathi, if I'm on your wing, I'll have your back as best I can. I promise," he says, with a quick nod.

Jamie glances back at Karen after that and reaches up to rub a few fingers thoughtfully over his smooth chin. "I'm just… gonna focus on surviving, for now," he decides.

Karen says, "Best thing any of us can do."

Azran is unflinching as Karen admonishes him, "…To kill does not make you a monster, Lt. Singh. What makes one a monster, is to kill for nothing more than the joy of watching something else die. Your cause gives their deaths purpose, meaning… And more importantly, it gives your /life/ purpose…"

After that bit of philosophy, Azran turns back to Jaime, "I would certainly hope so. If nothing else, the Confederation would be quite upset at the destruction of my craft." He says with another slight chuckle.

Karen tries to change the tone. "So… Lt. Reynolds, got anyone back home to send letters to? I remember being stationed on Helen while I patrolled the apocalypse belt… "

Karen continues, "Which city were you in? Prosephany, New Athens?"

Clearly, Jamie doesn't have enough experience with killing - that being any - to know what it could be that Karen's grappling with. He reaches up to smooth a few fingers through disheveled locks of platinum hair and reaches up to swallow a few gulps of the lemonade he ordered before. Wiping his mouth carelessly with a sleeve, he clunks the glass down on the counter.

"Hm," is the only thing Jamie murmurs at Azran, though it's with a tone of voice that gives the impression that he never expected to hear philosophy he agreed with from a Kilrathi. And to Karen, he shrugs.

"Just some siblings an' Mom. Dad and a bunch of my brothers and sisters got killed a few years back." Jamie pauses, then adds, "I'm from a farm about a hundred klicks away from Prosephany."

Azran turns back to the bar and sets the cup back down, "Water." He once more 'requests', apparently having no further words of caustic wisdom to dispense.

Karen's eyes widen… "Not around '54?" She then asks, "Was it a retro raid?"

Jamie clears his throat, and shakes his head. "No." He glances at Azran for a second, then back at Karen. "A bunch of Kamekhs made it pretty far into Gemini and… stopped by for supplies. That was a long time ago, though."

Karen tries to hide her relief. "My sincere condolences." She tilts her head to the side and puts a hand on her chest.

Karen's pad goes off. "Oh. Sorry I gotta jet."

Jamie inclines his head toward Karen, and straightens up, finishing his drink. "Yeah, thanks. Guess I should get back to the sims, too. Nice to meet you." He pauses, then asides to Azran, "An' you."