17:06 January 8th, 1648 AC Batavian Standard Meridian Date TimeHMCS Bonaventure (DSC 013), Green Squadron ready room
After a few minutes of walking through the corridors of Bonaventure's flight country, Cassandra reached Green Squadron’s ready room. In stark contrast to the regular aviators she saw on the way to her own squadron—everyone in the room immediately snapped to alertness and scrambled to stand up—giving her a mixture of academy crisp salutes and what looked like rather rusty, if amusing, attempts which would hopefully be ironed out during their deployment.
She couldn’t help but suppress a mental image of schoolkids reacting to the sudden arrival of a teacher. A few of the more nervous ensigns in the room stumbled to attention, perhaps lulled into a false sense of security when she didn’t appear on time.
She was unfortunately delayed with reviewing all of the information Radish dumped on her just a few minutes ago. The encounter—still so fresh in her memory—still left a bit of a sour aftertaste in her mouth, and she bit back the urge to grimace. She let them hold the salute for a few more short moments as she calmly walked towards the larger holographic projector, presently showing the HMCS Bonaventure’s form idly rotating. Despite being much smaller than the ship, it still dominated the front of the ready room and briefing stand. She stopped there, leaning against the speaker platform itself, setting down the stack of notes and papers she was carrying before finally saluting everyone.
“At ease. Sit down everyone,” she said, letting the gathered aviators sit down into their chairs. Cassandra glanced from side to side and back down at her notes. She smirked, amused by the fact she even had those slips of paper in her hands in the first place. All of the information she needed was already in her implants after all. Another little habit to give her anxious mind a little bit of comfort.
“I am not going to pretend like we are in a high school and take attendance, I’m just going to assume you all are here on time.” Even though some of you did react like highschoolers… She thought to herself.
Cassandra could feel the tension in the room loosen a little and noted that a few of the aviators in the room even chuckled at what they thought was a joke.
It was technically a white lie, since she did use her Ghost to query the carrier’s internal network to confirm that everyone on the list was in the room. She wouldn’t tolerate tardiness in her squadron, even if they were still shaking off rust from months of inaction in the reserves.
Her Shines darted around the room, taking the room in. The briefing room aboard the Bonaventure was built like a compact amphitheater, with the floor gradually stepping up in tiers towards the back wall. The high-backed seats bolted to the deck looked notably more comfortable than those aboard the strike cruiser Starlight.
As she thought of her old home, a chill went down her spine, with a brief thought fluttering towards how her old friends who stayed aboard were doing. She knew that Magellan left the navy completely after Cadair Idris… What happened to the others?
She mentally shook her head and focused on the room as she tried to steady herself.
The seats themselves were quite well cushioned and had armrests, with the paths between rows illuminated by small floor lights which sat securely under utilitarian grating. The place felt darker than the rest of the carrier, both because of the indirect lighting and the darker grey panels within the room. The subtle whirr of ventilation drowned out the distant sounds of the fleet carrier preparing for its first deployment, but the room itself wasn’t the point.
That would be the people gathered in front of her.
Even at first glance Cassandra could tell that these weren’t regulars. Most pilots were notoriously temperamental and hard to handle; the starfighter corps have a reputation for flamboyant aces who pull stunts that would get normal soldiers drummed out of the navy, or at the very least running off into ports to drink before being handed off to their officers by the JAG, the ship’s officer responsible for violations of the military justice code, but the group in front of her were different: they weren’t used to this life. Or not yet at least, but at the very least, they were doing their best to look the part of military pilots.
Cassandra was sure just from a glance that she had a tough job and a lot of sleepless nights ahead of her, making sure that the pilots of Green Squadron could shake off the rust that had built up and sharpen their skill to meet the navy standard for regular pilots. She was looking at a combination of older aviators which looked to be just before retirement, remaining in the reserve to keep a hold of their past life in the force; people closer to her age who moved out of active service for one reason or another; civilian pilots who wanted more flight hours and extra qualification; and few ensigns that were fresh out of the academy, possibly joining the reserve to get access to financial support which would make their daily lives easier.
“All of you have the same question written on your faces: ‘what in the world is happening?’ It doesn’t take an intel officer to see that having a full reservist squadron aboard a deep space carrier is strange.”
It was a good question. After all, Green Squadron was the first reservist squadron activated aboard a deep space carrier in the history of the entire Commonwealth of Corlain. She heard about it happening during the early days of San Batavia Republic during their Independence War, but not in the Commonwealth.
“You probably saw how the active squadrons looked at us. They don’t think we belong there and our job right now is to prove them wrong before we even launch.” She began in a calm, resolute tone of voice.
“I am not going to speculate why Command hasn’t told me why they need the Bonaventure at full strength. But, if they pulled us all from our day jobs and dragged us here, I know for damn sure that they got a good reason to do that.” She continued, her index finger tapping the papers on the briefing stand for emphasis. She didn’t feel quite as resolute and sure as she sounded, but she did intend to do her job to the best of her ability and even beyond that.
Cassie hated speeches, but at least some of the aviators in front of her looked a bit more steady as she continued, nervous looks and glances exchanged with nods and more resolute expressions. “So, before we launch, I want you to learn how the ship works. This carrier is going to be our home for the foreseeable future and we will fly as a squadron. We will NOT be flying as a collection of part-timers, and we will show that especially to the pricks from Red Squadron which called us bench warmers. And if anyone doubts it? We’ll show them when we take off.”
After a few more painfully long minutes of the briefing, she let out a quiet sigh as the pilots under her command stood to leave the room. To a bit of surprise, not all of them left. Two lone figures drifted over to the front of the ready room and approached the podium. Her eyes readily studied them with a well practiced glance.
One of the two aviators was a tall man, with black and tired looking eyes, while his brown hair harkened back to perhaps younger days in the sun. His beard was short and cropped with chops that wouldn’t pass in the active service, but it paired well with the old, worn service uniform. From what she could tell, he is a genuine veteran, especially from a slight, non critical malfunction in his Shine which seemed to glitch with pixelated blue flickers. It was the hallmark of the older generation of eye implants, which were being replaced in the active service, but of course, when it came to all kinds of equipment updates, reserves were the last in line to receive them. The older man in front of her simply wasn’t on the priority list for a while now.
Besides him was a small and petite, fragile looking girl with similarly brown hair, loosely worn and just out of regulations like the other man’s beard. In contrast to the other aviator’s steady confidence, she seemed to flinch at every sound like a small scared animal. Her uniform seemed brand new, but it was definitely at least a size too big for her, making her seem all the more nervous and out of place. If they weren’t aboard a deep space carrier about to head on a dangerous deployment, Cassandra would have to make a double take to make sure the girl in front of her was actually an aviator. Her wide amber eyes had the most recent type of Ocular Augmentation System issued by the military, reminding Cassandra of fresh recruits lined up at the Navy Academy’s opening ceremony. She could swear that the brunette was trembling as she approached her, but when she blinked again, the girl was completely still.
She casually nodded over to them while her Ghost quickly brought up their names and records with her Shines: Lieutenant Commander Jules Leclercq, her XO, second in command of Green Squadron and the small creature beside him was Lieutenant Junior Grade Lorelai Bakker, clearly a weapon systems officer judging from the lack of the silver pilot wings on her flight uniform.
“Commander van Ness, can we speak to you?” the older man said, his low, raspy voice opening the conversation. “I thought I’d introduce myself… And introduce Lorelei here as well. She got assigned as your WSO,” he said, pushing the shy girl a bit forwards—and causing Lorelai to let out a slight squeak in surprise..
“Salad… right?” Cassie asked, referring to the older aviator by his callsign, “Feel free to call me Seraph. You were posted on Wavebreaker during her last tour?” she responded, trying to recall some details about her newly appointed second in command as she mulled over his callsign.
“Yes, that’s right,” he said as his eyes lit up. With excitement perhaps? Or just old memories? “The navy’s old lady. After she got reassigned to the Reserve anchorage at Fallhaven station I decided to join the Reserve as well,” he said with a broad grin. “I was in the Reserve with Lorelei before, so I figured I’d nudge her your way a little. I heard some things about the famous Reserve Ace and figured Bakker here would need someone to break the ice.” His mention of her record made her wince mentally, but she managed to keep a straight face.
Bakker, on the other hand, looked as if she was about to cry.
Cassandra let out a sigh. “Lieutenant Bakker… I…” Cassandra began, before a softer, higher pitched voice that sounded more anxious than Cassandra thought was possible with an aviator interrupted her.
“N-No callsign! A-Ahem… Sorry—” the girl gasped, and Leclercq shrugged his shoulders with a chuckle.
“Well Skipper… I’ll leave you to it.” He casually saluted, and after Cassandra returned it he walked off.
“Lieutenant Bakker… I don’t bite. You can calm down,” Cassandra said with a mental sigh. The poor girl in front of her looked as if all of Cassandra’s anxiety decided to manifest in human form. “I don’t have too much time, but I will catch you in the morning, okay? I am glad you have introduced yourself,” she added, with what she hoped was a slight reassuring smile. At the very least the girl in front of her seemed to think it was reassuring, with her amber eyes giving Cassandra look as if she was looking at a living saint.
… Maybe a bit too reassuring then.
She swore she could hear a little “Stars and tides…” in her sigh of relief, but even with her Halo she wasn’t quite sure if that was her mind playing tricks on her.
“Y-Yes Commander! I-I won’t let you down!” she stammered out. She then saluted, and promptly ran off.
From a quick query, Cassandra saw that this girl barely even passed the requirements to enter the reserve service. Unfortunately for her, it seemed she had quite a few busy days ahead of her…
Stars and tides indeed.
Cassandra put her palm onto the back of her neck and stretched her neck a little before finally picking up her papers and checking the schedule for this day on her Shine. Unfortunately for her, the list of duties stretched across her vision and in just a few hours she had an officer meeting where she would meet the captain himself.