Out Of Uniform
Out of Uniform?
Arc: None
Summary: Pickett calls Markovic to his office to discuss recent orders from HQ
Date: 2658.004
Related Logs: None
Participants: Pickett, Markovic

What do we have lurking here, but a Pickett… slouching in his chair, with his feet resting up on the edge of his desk, waiting for the arrival of a certain Space Force Captain.

Marko offers the requisite knock before moving on into the room with the assumed consent to enter. She nods to the Major simply and moves to his desk. She comes to attention and offers a salute. "Captain Markovic, reporting as requested, sir." She's in her flightsuit still - scheduled for a CAP later in the day.

For the curious, the Major's office is relatively spartan, an odd mismatched lot of furniture that does at least include two chairs on the far side of a simple desk, plus the desk the major is occupying. The one conceit to vanity is a small painting hanging from one wall, showing an old Hornet-class fighter in the black of the illuminati, locked in combat with a number of Salthi light fighters. "Got some bad news for you, Needles" Pickett explains. "Pull up a chair"

Markovic's salute falls after a moment and she looks to the Major with his comment on the news. She blinks and nods, sliding over to take the chair. Sitting down, she takes a breath and leans forward a bit. "Alright, sir. Hit me with it." She steadies herself, prepping for what might be a fight.

"We need to have a conversation about your uniform, Captain." Pickett explains, swinging his feet down off the desk, and reaching into the drawer in the front of it. "I realize I am hardly the sort of officer to hang on every last regulation, but the Space Force does still require some certain standards be met"

Markovic's brow furrows. "My uniform, sir?" The Captain tilts her head and looks down at her flightsuit. "I am within regulations. I know my hair needs a trim but it is not a bother in the cockpit and that is where it counts. Right?" She's not exactly itching for a fight. The woman who came aboard is still there but she doesn't seem so inclined to start throwing fists anymore - physical or verbal. Just.. cautious.

"Your uniform" Pickett confirms. "See, what I have here is a latter from Space Force command indicating that you are no longer authorized to wear the rank insignia you're currently displaying."

Markovic -stares- at Pickett. "Wait. What? Sir?" The last word is tacked on almost as an afterthought. He's totally stumped her. "Major, am I being demoted for something?" She takes a deep breath, swallowing but keeping her eyes focused on the man in front of her.

"It's worse than that, I'm afraid" Pickett replies. "There are in fact, two documents here. The first was a transfer order, for Captain Korsakov to assume command of the 287th Fighter Squadron aboard TCS Honour, effective at sixteen hundred hours yesterday. The second… authorizes your promotion to Major, and orders you to assume command of the Illuminati" Pickett explains, producing a small box from the drawer in front of him, with two gold oak-leaves inside. "Congratulations"

That first bit of news seems to hit Marko with a little dejection. As if she wasn't already worked trying to cover for him with her own duties. But she's silent, waiting until the Major finishes talking… which hits her like a metric ton of brick. She stares at the box and then back to Pickett. Its about this time she finally remembers to breath, the word resembling 'Shiiiiit' as she sighs it out and catches her breath. She swallows again and looks to the box. "Wow, sir. Thank you!" The new Major finally grins and looks back to Pickett. "Outstanding!! I think you pretty much made my day, sir!" She looks like she could jump over the desk to hug him with that stupid grin plastered across her face.

"Excellent." Pickett replies with a genuine smile, pausing a moment before adding in a somewhat more serious tone. "Just remember, that used to be my outfit. Don't fuck it up."

Dejana's smile turns a bit more feral. "Sir, you put your trust in me. Or someone did. The last thing I am going to do is fail. Death before dishonor, Major Pickett. The two-twenty-first will get the treatment it deserves. You have my word." She makes no move to reach for the box yet. She's silent for a moment. "Also, sir, I'd like to make a request or a suggestion of sorts?"

"The squadron, sir. I do not know about the others but I know The Deuce could use a briefing. Situational update to get us situated with where we stand in the sector. I get the feeling there is some confusion about what is going on and where we are in the bigger picture and smaller-scale." Markovic's giddy is still there but its bubbling just below the surface. She's doing her best not to explode out of her chair. "I can give the briefing - maybe even to the wing if you'd prefer - and that is not a problem. I can bring everyone up to speed on projects and operations planning. I just did not want to step on your toes by doing it outright, sir. What are your thoughts?"

"It's probably a good idea" Pickett replies. "Bring everyone up to speed, at least before the transports hit the surface down on Helen" he adds, giving a slight nod. "Which we should be looking at any day now. I don't think the Kittens have much left to throw our way in this system"

Markovic dips her head lightly in approval to brief. "Understood, sir. I am assuming that we will be putting boots down on the ground, yes? Should I brief on some of that operation as well? If I can have some rough ideas of what will be happening, I can give direction. Beyond that, I can probably have this done in the next day or so. I just need to prep a few slides."

"Well, the Marines will, at any rate. We're going to be hiding up here, swooping down on things the Marines don't want to deal with" Pickett explains with a wicked little grin. "I'll make sure to fill you in on all the operational details here shortly"

Markovic nods once. "Aye, sir. Just call me down here again or shoot me an email with the details." The woman rises from her chair. "Okay, sir. I have a lot I need to take care of. If you do not mind, I need to dive into a few projects." She finally reaches for the pins and takes up the box. "Sir, thank you again for this opportunity. I will not let you down."

Pickett moves to stand from his chair, giving Markovic a little grin. "Will do, Major" Pickett replies, pausing for a moment before adding as an afterthought. "Oh, and before the rumor mill gets the information to you… Kessel's been relieved." There's a momentary pause. "Told you I'd have the son of a bitch's head on a plate"

Marko looks at the pins in the box, smiling down at them as if it were a child. But she looks up as the Winco begins again. Her brow lifts and then furrows. "Aye, sir. Thank you, Major Pickett. I had warned pilots about him and to stay away from him. It is good to know he will be kept away from our people." The box is snapped closed and pocketed before lifting her hand in a salute.