Post Red Light In Fal
Post Red Light in FAL
Arc: None
Summary: Phillip is joined by Walsh in the First and Last bar and they discuss the recent scramble
Date: 2659.096
Related Logs: The Big Red Light
Participants: Phillip Walsh

Phillip is sitting up at the bar in the center seat, drinking something light green, similar in color to champagne strangely. The bar is sparsely populated, which is not entirely unusual for this hour, but the crowd is still thinner.

Walsh wanders in towards the bar, his satchel of gadgets slung over his right shoulder. He had hoped to take advantage of the relatively quiet hour to grab a drink and work out a couple of bugs in his sim project. But, spotting Iceblade sitting solo, he changes his plans and detours toward him. "Hey, Ice!"

Phillip hears someone approach and turns to see Walsh calling out to him. "Oh hey," Phillip calls back and waves Walsh over to the bar. "Come and have a seat, though I will warn you, the bar isn't selling anything more alcoholic than wine cooler," Phillip says pointing to his drink, "or light beer."

Walsh frowns for a second before replying. "Ah well. Light beer will do for now." He swings his satchel off his shoulder. "I was originally planning to geek out in a quiet corner anyway. Just hope not to be interrupted by a scramble this time…"

Phillip nods and then responds, "Oh so you do a lot of sim programming? I've done a bit myself, but I usually just edit pre-made ones." Phillip shrugs and then picks up his drink and sips a bit while still looking toward Walsh.

Walsh nods. "Oh, yeah. Was a major part of my old life, working on simulation models for prototype spacecraft." He shrugs, then adds conspiratorially, in a voice barely more than a whisper, "Taught myself how to fly Confed fighters off them too, on the quiet."

Phillip puts down his drink, nods in response and puts his index finger over his mouth for a second to indicate he understands the bit of secrecy. After putting his hand down, he says, "So that scramble yesterday was definitely the toughest I've ever seen. Definitely hope we don't have another one of those or even close to it for a while."

"I'm with you on that one…" Walsh turns to the barman to order a drink, before continuing. "I was… -mildly unamused- … to be shoved into that shitfest." He enunciates his sarcasm, eyebrows arched. "Then I went and flew off solo for a suicide mission…" Sigh.

Phillip looks at Walsh with a slight bit of concern on his face, "Really, that bad. What happened?"

"So we lose contact with a flight of fighters. Someone has the brilliant idea to send a lone scout to poke a hornet's nest." Walsh pauses to take receipt of, and sample, his beer. "Anyway… I come upon some rapiers getting their shit stomped by Griks and Dralthi." He pauses for a second gulp. "Didn't see 'em 'til I was right on top of them, mind. Comms and sensors jammed all to shit.

Phillip nods and takes sips as he listens.

Walsh continues, "So obviously they saw me coming too, 'coz both Dralthi peeled off and started flinging shit in my direction. No fucking idea how they managed to fuck up at killing me. I was practically sensor blind. Retarded kitty pilots, I tell ya." He pauses to catch his breath and gulp down more fluid. "Anyway… These two idiots chasing me around in circles gave the Rapiers the opportunity to stick it to the Griks while I fired pot shots at the Dralthi. Truly have no idea how I managed to get that bird back with barely a scratch!"

Phillip nods, "Wow, well we had some crappy luck for while ourselves. James and myself were having no luck with those damn Griks, and then these kils just start baring down on the TCS Cook. Clearly trying to make their torps count, and wham. James and I blast both cats into dust. Landed a hit right in the cat's lap. There was nothing left." Phillip pauses for second realizing that Walsh isn't finished yet, "Oh anyway, as you were saying."

Walsh says, "Nice… Yeah, so I managed to land another hail mary missile shot on one of the Dralthi. Must've fucked it up its controls something chronic, 'coz it shot off ballistic." Back to his drink for a moment. "So that's tally one… Meanwhile one of the rapiers must have been smacked again, from what I could make out of the comms, the pilot was shitting his pants. The three of 'em got it together and went absolutely batshit on one of the Griks…""

Phillip nods again, "Yeah, we did pick up quite a few rooks back in Perry when I came onboard. In fact, turns out on the flight in, I was in charge for half the flight, being the most senior of the group. At least until we meet up with Col. Taylor and some Sabres." Iceblade then brings the topic back to Walsh, "So those Rapiers were blasting the hell of one of the Griks, had the other already been destroyed?"

Walsh shrugs. "The other one… fuck knows, but I think I pissed it off by smackin' his mate, 'coz next thing I know, I'm playin' dodgeball with its missiles. And get this… the second Dralthi… flew straight into the path of one, as near as I can tell… Own goal. Thanks kitty. What are the odds?"

Phillip chuckles a bit, "Looks like the kittens were blind as you guys were, I can't imagine missile guidance working too well in such an environment, least not for too long."

Walsh looks thoughtful for a moment. "Hey, you're probably right! Griks usually load FoFs, right? What kind of stupid fires them off in all that interference!?" He looks to Phillip with a quizzical grin. "Never underestimate your enemy, right? I think they missed the word 'stupidity' off the end."

Phillip laughs a little, "Yeah we had some ones in our combat zone, zones really. After cleaning up the bombers and Sarthas we left the TCS Cook to play with the Kamekh…Oh and get this, the TCS Cook fired 3 or 4 torps at the Kamekh and out of 3 hits, 1 was blunted and two did only scarred its front some as best I could tell." Phillip pauses for second thinking, "Now where was I, oh yeah. We got a distress call to assist the Lancelot, our destroyer escort, from some inbound bombers. There was a Hhriss and 2 Dralthi and they only hit Paz once. And they were launching missiles too with no jamming to deal with. Terrible shots these guys, easy to evade…oh please continue," Phillip returns the storytelling back to Walsh.

Walsh interjects with a concerned "How is Tizona doing, anyway?" before returning to his story. "Well, by this stage it was pretty much down to mopping up. Another one of the Rapiers had taken another heavy hit and was limping pretty bad, but they'd managed to take down the Grik they were targeting. The remaining Grik must've been feeling quite the sad kitty. It was pretty much an alpha strike on him by this point… Then was the slow limp back home, without comms, hoping we didn't find more 'friends' along the way."

Phillip says, "Dang some tough work there. Oh and Paz, she came rushing in flying past the TCS Cook right you left. Nailed a Sartha and went to taking on the other two. I guess the injuries weren't as bad as we thought cause she flew really well yesterday." Phillip then pauses to take another sip of his white grape wine cooler, which is about 1/3 left. "Oh-kay so we came to assist the Lancelot which was duking it out with a Ralari. There were like 5 Sartha running around dueling with the Stiletto flight from the Lancelot. We reach the ship nearly at the same time as the enemy bomber group. James has our backs while Paz and myself go after both bombers. At this point, I was out of good missiles having wasted 4 on a Grik earlier. Tried as best I could to axe the cat, just no luck and I had two Dralthis on me while James was trying to peel a Hhriss off Paz's back." pauses and chuckles a bit to himself."

Walsh listens, sipping at his beer and shaking his head in disbelief. "Why, oh god -why- can we never have something like even numbers? It's like we're fighting ants or something. Always a swarm…" He interrupts himself. "I'm ranting. Please continue."

Phillip nods, "Yeah definitely seems like it sometimes. Anyway," Phillip says as he continues. "Oh yeah, Paz said something rather memorable during fighting that rather makes me chuckle now. Surprised I even heard it what with the missile warnings. She said, 'this Kilrathi is riding my ass hard'. What a pretty picture that makes."

Walsh chuckles, nibbling on the tip of a fingernail. "Now, that there's the kinda distraction a man could do without in combat… " He mimes daydreaming. "Mmm.. ass.. Oh, shit! Missiles!"

Phillip laughs a bit, "Yeah, but probably don't want to mention it to her. She might not take too kindly to us joking about. Even with her giving briefings, it is so easy to forget that she is my CO now."

Walsh nods knowingly. "Mmm. Don't wanna be scrubbing the head with a toothbrush for the rest of your life, not that that's really her style. But -damn-, Paz!" He attacks his beer vigorously.

Phillip chuckles a little, "Yeah, so anyway back to the fighting. We were doing our as best we good with the bombers. The Stilettos, who had some weird callsigns for pilots: bird names like Crane, were holding their own while trying to help us with Sarthas on their tail. Luckily the flak from the Lancelot wasn't too bad. Then James finally makes an excellent hit on the Hhriss cause I saw a bright flash out my port side near Paz. We manage to take the rest of them down in relatively short order after that with surprisingly little damage. The Stilettos from the Lancelot got a little chewed up. And the Lancelot," Phillip pauses to remember a name. "Oh yeah, Captain Cristo, I think first name is Montgomery; not sure what his last name actually is though…

Walsh appears a bit more optimistic. "So all in all we didn't really come out too bad considering we got caught with our pants around our ankles, did we? Though I don't know how any other flights fared."

Phillip pauses to listen to Walsh, then he responds, "Yeah well, Lt. Murphy said that some people didn't quite make and judging from the look of some of the fighters when we landed…Let's just say, I think we have at least a few hangar queens and limited spare parts. At least we haven't been long without supplies, so we should be able to manage for the being, at least that is what I hope is the case."

Walsh nods along. "Yeah, I guess that's the real problem isn't it: attrition. As long as we're stuck out here with our backs to the wall, they've got free reign and we're way the fuck out of supply." Digressing, he adds, "Speaking of Paz, I'd love to see the paperwork that came out of her office after that tirade against what's-her-face on the Cook…"

Phillip nods "Same here, though I think I heard a rumor going around that that Lt. Cmd. Auldwell was on board the ship the other day, coming out of the WingCo's office rather miffed to put it politely."

Walsh grimaces. "Lord have mercy on anyone who pisses that woman off!" he says, referring to Paz. "She's some kinda demon when she's mad."

You say, "Oh yeah, definitely has nasty side, luckily it is the cats who usually see it. Now that new WingCo, dang does he seem tough, but I hear he is the guide of guy you want in leading the charge. And he is an excellent pilot too. In fact, he basically came racing in to save the Lancelot who was really losing in its exchanges with the Ralari. I see this Sabre really seem to appear out of nowhere at full burn heading straight at the Ralari. As soon as he was on the scene, he orders the Lancelot back. He goes right into the clouds of flak and actually became hard to track with all of the flak going up. Then Boom! the Ralari is toasted and out this Sabres comes back a little marred but still in good shape. Man I tell ya, our WingCo is great to have in a fight." The look on Phillip's face is one of amazement really as the skill and courage of the WingCo. "Meat Grinder, what a callsign and really apt."

Walsh gapes. "Wait.. He comes out of nowhere, flies straight into a flak cloud, and splashes a destroyer single-handedly? Who is this guy?"

Phillip shrugs, "I don't know, but I'm just glad we have him here. I think we might actually get out of this situation alive."

Walsh says, "Hell yeah. That sorta shit's a good way to upset the balance of power right quick." Walsh enthuses. "Come to think of it, that's the sort of crazy thing I'd do. Just wouldn't go so well in a paper mache' Stiletto…""

Phillip nods and looks at the clock. "Dang it is already that late, well I'm go off to the bunks to get a few hours of hopefully uninterrupted sleep. Got CAP duty in 6." Phillip then starts finishing off the last fifth of his drink.

"Alright then. Good luck with that." Walsh pays some attention to his own drink. "I've still got some time to kill, so I might take a look at some of this code after all. See ya later, I guess."

Phillip Finishes off his drink, gets up from the bar, nods to Walsh, and says, "Ya, it was good talking to you, good luck with that sim. I'll have to try it out sometime." As Phillip is about to turn to leave, he waves bye and says, "Later." Phillip heads on out the door up to his to bunk to catch a few z's.

With his conversation partner departing, Walsh takes the opportunity to start on what he came here to do in the first place. After skulling the last of his beer and quickly ordering another, he turns to his satchel. He pulls out a trio of heavily modified PDA devices, and sets to work.