Anglo Germanic Relations

The Observation deck is quieter, and darker, then usual. Lighting has been overridden to almost be completely offso the majesty of space is as unfiltered as possible, starlight the only true illumination. The converted space is empty of any and all inhabitants, save one. Sitting on the floor as close to the transparisteel viewport is Weiss. His crutchlike cane is a few feet away, lying on the floor, and around him are a bunch of nicknacks and bottles and things from his ever present satchel of stuff. He looks clean.. probably having showered but is unshaven and looks haggard regardless. A few candles are set in the lips of the empty bottles save the expensive looking one in his hand from which he takes a slow sip.

Of the folks on the ship that are in a less than hospitable mood since the flight deck fiasco, another of -really- upset appear in the Observation Lounge. Pip's wearing his usual beaten-up old flightsuit, and carrying a small wooden box. Nothing particularly interesting. "Sergeant." His accent words are soft, and he tosses the box onto the floor next to the German NCO. No more words are spoken, not for a few long moments of silence. He's far more intent on watching the flight activity outside of the viewport. It would appear as if the TCS Penguin has begun to offload its Rapiers, the starfighters being flown out in pairs from the converted Drayman. Not a combat carrier, but easily capable of carrying a squadron of starfighters in a slow offloading process.

Weiss grey eyes catch the Pilot and Major's reflection in the viewport. It takes him a moment to fully register who it is. The german doesn't seem drunk, strangely.. the bottle in his hand is barely an inch or two drained from the top. He looks a bit confused.. then starts to get up but his leg, still bandaged beneath his jumber and legbrace, doesn't fully let him. "I apologize, sir. I am not also used to.. sergeant." he says, slowly as if enunciating the words. Since he really never says sir, he must really be out of sorts. "And you vill have to forgive me. I would stand and salute but mein leg ist not cooperating." His voice is gravelly.. And he stares at the box.. looking at it… "Vahss ist it…?" he asks slowly.

"Blaze Medallion for risking your life to save the flight deck, those still on it, and those who were going to need it, fast." Pip's voice remains soft, and though he doesn't join the German on the floor, he does stand adjacent to him, and watch the proceedings outside of the ship. "No need to apologize, Siegfried. You are wounded, and I've never been one to stand on ceremony." He doesn't know the other man, particularly well…but, clearly the Major is going to make an effort for his new Deck Chief. "I suspect that you don't feel like you deserve the award, of course. And, maybe you don't. I can't really judge that…I've never particularly felt as if I earned any decorations, or ribbons. They're just chaff, really." A rough chuckle, and he glances down at the wounded tech. "Napoleon once said that if you give him enough medals, he could win any war. He was wrong, of course. We kicked his arse, my ancestors, and yours." An odd, rambling digression, there.

Weiss is silent for another few moments… He looks at the box and tentatively picks it up.. setting it in his lap and opening it. It's like the medal is too bright.. too shiny.. too much too look at. And he slowly closes the box and.. rubs at his eye with the back of his scarred hand that matches his scarred leg, or so medical files would say. "Da.. ve did." he agrees, sounding even more hoarse now. He looks at the bottle. "And no.. I don't tink I deserve dis.. And I not feel like I deserve dis promotion… How can I? I killed someone…."

"Sergeant? I killed half a flight wing to save a carrier, and they -still- got around to making me a Major again." A sigh, and Pip looks down at the man, studying him for a moment. "You killed the fuck-up that nearly closed down our flight operations while a Kilrathi battle-group was in the process of jumping into Junction." Arms fold over his chest…."IF that reactor had gone, we would've lost the majority our on-duty deck crew, and the use of our flight deck until we made it back to a repairyard." A nod out toward the offloading Rapiers…"It isn't common knowledge, exactly…but, why do you think we're receiving top of the line starfighters? Majestic is on the verge of beginning major offensive combat operations…and -one- nugget pilot nearly fucked up the Admiralty's entire battleplan in Gemini. Bad enough that she killed two men with experience that is frankly, irreplacable. You saw to it that we can continue this mission. So, yes. You deserve those stripes on your jumpsuit, Siegfried." His gaze shifts back to the viewport, away from the NCO. "Naga would've been dead the moment she saw the elephant, if her landing was any indicator." A harsh epitath for the young rookie.

Weiss winces at that condemnation…. Which is strange since he makes those kind of condemnations all the time to pilots.. and techs.. and brass.. and gets away with it in one form or another somehow. Maybe it is his winning personality? He looks away from the pilot and his admissions, bitting his lower lip.. then his shoulders, already low, sag even more. "Ja.. She was major "A" fuck up…. And you not tink I know vat could have happened? I saw it… I saw vat vould happen ze momet I realized I could not get her out." He rubs his eye again. "I not even know her name, then. Never met. But vhen I knew what i had to do.. I look at her and saw her callsign on helmet.. her eyes. And she vent from being just number to being person. And Still I did it. And zat vas scare me most. I pushed her off de ship, her staring at me accusingly de whole vay.. And I did not stop myself. Or think twice.."

"You might be a deck crewer, Weiss….you might not carry a gun, or fly a starfighter into harm's way…but you're still a fucking soldier. And, sometimes, that means making a hard choice for the greater good. You did that." His aristocratic accented English comes quickly, and with a firm edge now. Pip's comforting has become rather more commanding, as it seems to need to be, at this moment. "You are -not- the most senior NCO in the TCSF deck crew, Siegfried." His blue eyes continue to focus on the other man, as if willing him to meet his stare…"You were -my- choice to follow the Chief Master Sergeant, not because I thought you knew as much as he did about running a deck…no one on this ship, or in this -Sector- did, as far as I am concerned…" A breath is taken, before he continues on what he become a sermon…"But, rather, because in making the choice that you did, as quickly as you were able….you proved that you had the capacity to keep my starfighters in space, even if it meant killing some poor SOB who shouldn't've been flying a fucking tricycle, let alone a Raptor." And, then he falls silent, finishing with.."That is why I told the Commodore that you were the best choice to run Majestic's deck. Precisely because you -did- fucking kill someone."

Weiss always falls silent it seems..nd this time it is no exception. Though this time, the silence seems.. sharper.. much like Pip tone of speech. He finally sets the box down and says something that seems to have nothing to do with the moment. "Did you know, Major, zat I am rich?" he asks.. He takes a swig of the bottle and offers it to him.

"I had heard that rumour, yes." A smirk, and Pip accepts the bottle, taking an experienced gulp, before it handing it over, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Did you know that I'm a fucking Peer of the realm? Nobility." A shrug, and the Major's smirk turns into a dark grin. "But, Sergeant? We don't do these jobs because we need the fucking money. We do it, because if we don't….who else is going to step up?"

Weiss nods at that. "Zat, actually, ist my point" he says as he retreives the bottle of VERY smooth and probably VERY expensive. "Dis… Uralt Weinbrand… My family makes it.. For generations. Largest Brewery and Distillery on Thuningia.. Ship to dozens of vorlds.. Made us rich.. I inherit after my parents and sisters vere killed when I was child.. Mein Opa.. My grandfather.. He runs it for me.. Has since I was teenage. Also own shipyards there.. other things" he looks to Pip. "I not have to be here. I not have to have been hurt on ze Invictus… But I chose so. because I vanted more. I vanted to see tings.. and do tings.. be my own man." he takes a sip of the booze and shivers slightly. "And for one moment I almost regretted being me, here. I still not think I deserve zis.. But I also know I vould do it again.. And ja, it scares me.. But ze reason i became who I am is like you say.. who else would.

Listening to the other man's explanation of his past, and what he has been thinking….Jenthsoon nods, as he falls silent. He's clearly taken it all i."And, here you are, Siegfried…you're in charge of making the deadliest weapon in the human arsenal run. You're in charge of a keeping a Carrier Air Wing operational, and prepared to murder Kilrathi." Pip points to the Rapiers in the process of offloading, and then looks back down to Weiss. "Sergeant, I am currently one-squadron short of a carrier flight wing, and I've got a Kilrathi battlegroup in-system. That means that I need you on my flight deck, inspecting these incoming Rapiers, down to the smallest rivet." Eyes shift to the cane, and take note of the wounded leg…"I know mobility is an issue. But, I can't afford my deck chief absent, while these inspections, and combat preperations are underway. I need you on my deck, now."

Weiss sits a bits straighter. he doesn't look any happier for what he has done… But he looks more accepting.. or at least mollified. "Pah. ist just wounded leg. Not like it vas such good shape before and I did fine repairing all ze ships /you/ managed to break." he says.. and there is a touch of his usual snarkiness in that. He takes a sip of the bottle and corks it before he starts putting things away. "Damned saxons.. should stick to boats and fish and chips if I am to be asked…"

"Boats. We are the masters of sea, land, and air. Do remember, Sergeant. We invented the first tanks, and -then- kicked your ass in the air, in the next war after that. Bloody jerries." A grin, and the Major can give, as well as he can get, in this sort of contest. "I think that we can agree….we're still far more cultured than the bloody yanks, even in this day and age." He offers the man a hand, and then frowns. "I've got a few thousand more appointments, before I am checked out in the Rapier by an IP. I'd just wanted to track you down, and make sure that you were prepared to get back into the thick of it, Sergeant. It looks like you are, thankfully."

Weiss puts the last of his junk away and, grabbing his crutch-cane pushes himself to his feet. "Von Rictoffe still kicked your asses." he grumps. Then he looks at Pip and.. salutes him? It is not the best salute, nor the tightest. "Yes, sir. And thank you sir. I mean zat. I vill do.. do mein best."

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