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| − | {{SceneLog
| + | Redacted |
| − | |Location=ABS Destiny
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| − | |IC Date=2535/05/30
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| − | |OOC Date=2014/08/30
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| − | |Characters in Scene=Connie, Darling
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| − | |Short Summary=Connie's doing a series of one-to-one's with the Destiny's new bridge crew. First up, Lt. Darling.
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| − | |Full Log=<poem>Darling says, "Captain on deck!!"
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| − | Connie acknowledges. "As you were." She slides into the Command chair. "Status. Mr. Darling?"
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| − | Darling says, "Over Londinium, awaiting weapons stores." The nav officer, takes a moment to read the panel and adds, "All shore leaves have been suspended and all personnel are prepared for departure."
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| − | Connie nods. "Good." She fires up the system, flicking through screens of nav co-ordinates. "Any issues I should know about?"
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| − | Darling shakes his head, "No flags, we've trailed some commercial traffic for sensor calibration and managed a few hours out in the deep black and she's ready." His eyes remain on the C.O., hopeful.
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| − | A smile. "Excellent." Connie flicks between a couple of screens, nods to herself, satisfied. "Now if I could scare us up some orders..."
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| − | Darling days nothing for a long while, then ventures to add, "We did bring aboard a pair of hummingbirds..." Then, another beat passes, "And some short range enforcement vehicles." He swallows and maintains the momentum. "If it would be permissible, I would like to spend my off duty time building some hours in the smaller ships."
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| − | Connie quirks a slightly amused eyebrow. "Career plans, Mr Darling?"
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| − | Darling's involuntary flush creeps across his face in a wave of crimson, but recedes with a visible intake of breath. "Nothing immediate, ma'am." he says to his console. Many other responses come to mind, but there's no point giving himself any more rope.
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| − | That gets filed away. And she flicks through a couple of things on her PDA before glancing up. "Should I have an appointment in here for a one-to-one with you, Lt?"
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| − | Darling coughs, "I talked to Harris." Pushing back from the console, he turns the seat to face the C.O., "Did I miss the specific time?"
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| − | A finger flicks up a page or two. "Ahah." Connie shuts it with a snap. "Never mind." She taps a key, brings the screen back to the main nav status, studies it for a moment. "Anything outstanding, Lt, or can we give Ensign Harris the watch for an hour?"
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| − | Darling says, "We're in stable orbit. Nothing scheduled to dock or depart for the another... eighty-three minutes."
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| − | Darling pushes back from the console to stand
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| − | Connie nods. "Good. Grab yourself a coffee." She, as usual, entered the bridge with the ever-present mug of what could kindly be described as cold rocket fuel. "My ready room, when you're sorted."
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| − | Darling pulls his tunic flat and draws himself up to full height. He moves aft to the small nook near the lift and pours a mug, black and bitter. He sets his jaw and moves into the ready room.
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| − | [...]
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| − | Connie gestures. "Close the door, have a seat." She grabs her own chair, fires up the console, screen turned away from him. "So. I do this with all the bridge officers..." A wry laugh. "When they eventually get round to it." She looks up at him. "Part of my job is to manage your career, figure out where you go from here, /et cetera/." Fingers tap the keyboard for a moment, then she leans back, studies the screen. A pause. "So. Thirty five and still a Lieutenant?"
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| − | Darling finds his way to a chair, sitting back with his coffee while trying to figure out where to start with that one. What could he say? Still, silence is not an option here. "Yes, ma'am" is the best he can come up.
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| − | Again that lifting of an eyebrow. "This is a conversation, not I-ask-and-you-answer, Lieutenant" He may register that she's lightly teasing. "At your age..." A pause, and a laugh. "Ok. At your age I was out on my ear and commanding a trader on the rim. But the fact remains that with your level of experience, you should be past Lieutenant." She taps the spacebar to scroll what's on her screen - which he can probably guess at - and hrms. "Is Lieutenant where you're happy?"
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| − | Direct. Darling can deal with direct. This isn't quite what he expected from the commander of a Trebuchet, so he ventures to match her approach. "No." he says, "But I don't think it's the rank so much as the rut." He gives her a long appraising gaze now, not a bit shameful.
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| − | Connie mms. "So." She grins at him. "I could read this for myself..." A gesture at the screen, and he's pretty sure she already has. "But... why don't you give me your version?"
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| − | Darling sighs, "Four ships." He shrugs and continues, "I could describe one and describe them all." He looks into the coffee as if selecting a memory from a pensive. "I know my job well enough, there's nothing in there near incompetence. I just tend to find out what it is that drives a skipper mad." He quietly snorts, "And I seem to find a way to do it."
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| − | She takes a sip of coffee. Quietly, "Why?"
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| − | Darling's shoulders raise, pause, then fall. "I suppose if I knew that, I'd be a few steps up the ladder." He's still trying to adjust to this approach. "It's a compulsion, I guess. I see something that doesn't quite hold water and I can't go by without saying something." Why did he say that? His gaze holds to her, waiting for a reaction.
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| − | "There are," she observes, "Those who would consider that a useful skill. Provided you approach the .. saying something... in the right way."
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| − | Darling's lip curls into a lopsided smile, though it's gone before he speaks again, "That hasn't always proven to be my strong suit." His lips purse as his brain digests a different thought, "What's my tour here? Three years if I did the math right."
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| − | Connie nods. "Three years." She returns the look. "I value people who are not afraid to tell me I'm wrong when I am." She glances at the screen, scrolls down again. "However..." And she seems, if anything, amused. "It does seem that synonyms for 'insubordination' are scrolling past rather a lot here."
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| − | Darling frowns, though it's only a few seconds before he smiles, "Not many share your values, ma'am."
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| − | She sighs a touch. "That, Mr. Darling. is sadly more true than you know." Connie takes another swig of her coffee, sets it down again. "Where would you like to be at the end of your tour?"
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| − | Darling's in for a penny, and doesn't hesitate. "I think I would like to be the one that gets second guessed, Ma'am." He inhales again and elaborates, "I didn't mean I wanted your job, ma'am... it's just that... well, I think there's a lot of politics on a bigger ship that I'm not quite suited for."
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| − | That earns him a short bark of amused laughter. "Not everyone is. And it takes a reasonable amount of self-awareness to admit it."
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| − | "Fourteen months in a military adjustment unit gives one a little time to get to know themselves." says Darling quietly. She's got the record, drunk and disorderly and the wrong answer at his court martial left him in very ill favor officialy. Only the investment spent in his training kept him in the service.
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| − | Connie mmhms, and leans back in her chair to study him. Well aware of why he's been sent to her, whether it's one final bout of petty spite from someone higher up. or a genuine belief that she can make a difference. "How badly do you want that command, Lt.?"
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| − | Darling's fingers drum for a few moments before coming to an abrupt stop. "I don't suppose there's any answer other answer than 'Badly', Ma'am. I can't see moving on as a lieutenant and another bar isn't going to really make a difference in a capital ship, anyway."
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| − | "This is..." She sighs. "For the most part outside my control, but it is your last chance. However much the Alliance may wish to protect its investment in your training, if you blow this assignment, if I have to write another report like the ones on my screen, you can, I think, expect a set of discharge papers that aren't very complimentary." Greeen eyes fix him. "I don't want that. Because you're a damn good pilot, you have initiative and good ideas. More importantly, by far, than any of that, though - you're one of /my/ crew." With a decisive gesture, she shuts off the terminal. "That..." She indicates the screen. "Is history. What we do from here on in is what governs where you end up at the end of this tour. Starting now. If you ever arrive on my ship again in the state you did last week, without a cast-iron excuse, I /will/ write that report." And, damn her, she grins at him. "You are the navigation officer on one of the Alliance's newest ships. And I aim, with your and everyone else's help. to make it one of the best. Are you with me?"
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| − | Darling's focus remains on the black screen for a moment, turning back to intercept the grin. He nods, though not certain a smile on his own face is appropriate. "I understand what's expected of me, Ma'am", he finally replies. "I'll do my job and stay off your shit list."
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| − | Connie gives him a withering look. "I don't expect you to do it. I expect you to excel at it. As part of a team. Contribute. Work your ass off. Find where we fuck up and come up with ways of fixing it. Make me /hate/ losing you to a command."
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| − | Darling's mouth starts long before the brain engages, or at least the part that keeps his foot out. Flatly he says, "I want to make it *my* command." It's out before he knows it, but it's there. "Ma'am."
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| − | Darling clears his throat, "The one you lose me to, that is."
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| − | Connie nods. Grins. "Good. Becasue while I may hate losing you, I will be extremely happy for you when I do. So make sure it's a 'when', not an 'if'."
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| − | Darling's hands grip the arm rests, preparing for dismissal, but only for a moment. Feeling the moment may be right, he ventures a query, "What are we going to be doing ma'am." Then quickly, "If I might ask. I mean, what is the ships overall mission?"
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| − | Connie laughs. "As soon as I know, you all will be the first to find out."
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| − | She adds, "Officially, we're Task Force Alpha's transport and support."
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| − | Darling finally relaxes, seeing a bit more of the captain than the insignia on the collar. "That helps, ma'am. I understand security and need to know", he says, "Sometimes knowing the why makes a difference in the how if I'm to give you my best."
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| − | Connie grins wryly. "Believe me, I would very much like to know too." She considers the offee for a moment, then adds, "I do know that there is a /sincere/ desite for us to present, and act like, a face of the Alliance that is... closer to its original aims." She looks across at him. "If you've done your research about me, you'll know that my history with the Alliance isn't exactly conventional. I believed that there were such things as /bad/ orders. I still do."
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| − | Darling replies in kind, "I know what I've read was written by a political officer." This seems to him to say all it needs to say, though after a moment, he elaborates, "From a political point of view."
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| − | Connie snorts, softly. "Take it from me.. and I am not a political officer." She grins. "Thought I used to call one a friend, which was an amusing relationship.... We are not about bullying people for fun, boarding ships just because we're bored, or confiscating cargo because we got out of the wrong side of bed. If one of my crew is responsible for something like that, it will make my displeasure on a coffee stain on your jacket look like a fist fight in O'Hallorans on Whitefall compared to the whole gorram Unification War."
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| − | Darling shakes his head, "I would expect nothing less, ma'am." Then, perhaps taking an unwarranted liberty, he ruefully smiles, "At the speeds our last two contacts crossed our paths, we won't be boarding much of anything without a serious upgrade to her engines."
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| − | "Well, no. We are a battlecruiser, not a scout." She grins. "To be honest, I doubt that enforcement patrols are to be our job. If they wanted that, they could have left me on the Katana." The APC's name is said with just a hint of distaste.
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| − | Darling ponders, then shakes his head, "I don't suppose second guessing official orders is my job, ma'am. I apologize." He would just have to find out when the powers that be decided he was to know.
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| − | Connie shrugs. "In here or the wardroom, you can second guess all you like, Lieutenant. Once we get out on the bridge, however..."
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| − | "Understood", says the Lt. "And until more official orders arrive, what are my standing orders, ma'am?"
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| − | Connie drains the coffee, sets it down. "Get to the point where you can predict and manage how the Destiny will behave under every circumstance you can imagine. And preferably some you can't." A mischevious grin. "And if you have any spare time after that, get your hours up on one of the toys in the hold."
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| − | Darling's smile grows to a point where it would take more than a chisel to get it off. He takes this for his dismissal and stands, "Thank you, ma'am." His tone is sincere and he adds, "I will make it my life." He pulls his arm up for a salute, holding it with his eyes fixed on the rear wall.
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| − | Connie grins. "Dismissed."The salute is returned, and she fires up the console again, evidently adding some notes to a record.
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| − | </poem>
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| − | }}
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