Summary: Paz and Trey go atmosurfing. The adults just don't understand.
Date: 0253 Hours 2657.330
Related Logs: None

The Powderkeg - Barracks of the 1087th Fighter Squadron…

Trey is lounging on one of the central couches, aimlessly staring at the ceiling and looking uncharacteristically impatient and irritable when he normally seems so smooth and relaxed that one could substitute the pilot for cooking spray. But here he is, more or less attempting to kill time. With a butterknife.

"Yeah, yeah, Spaceboy, I know, they won….I can't crap out credit notes, so you're just gonna have to wait til we get paid to collect." Paz half-grows. half sighs as she steps into the Minuteman's Officer's berthing, trailing a tall, skinny bean pole of a JO behind her. "Now go away and stop hassling me." she grunps hard enough to send the man-boy packing. "Mother of God, but today has sucked." she sighs.

Trey glances over to Paz, smirks to himself, and then reaches his arm towards the floor, behind Paz's line of sight. When his arm comes back, it's holding a red and white checkered bean bag no larger than a fist, which he dutifully tosses at the other pilot with a grin and a raise of his eyebrows, "But every day is thrilling and soul enriching here on the TCS Majestic."

Paz narrowly avoids being struck between the eyes with the aforementioned bean bag before managing to snag it. "A day on the Majestic's like a day on the farm." she snerks. "Every meal's a banquet, every paycheck a fortune, every formation a parade." she chuckles derisively. "Every nine hour patrol worth the layer of skin off my ass and all the boredom that comes with it." she says, chucking it back at Trey. "So what's your bitch, gripe and/or complaint today?"

Trey's head is already tilted against the arm of the couch. He just leans back further, essentially hanging his head upsidedown. He smiles up at her, though his heart isn't much into it. "I'm still here. That's never happened before. I think I'm going stir-crazy. I keep feeling like I'm supposed to leave for the ship but this -is- the ship." He 'pats' the couch by way of kicking at it with his heel, gesturing to a seat next to him, or an approximation thereof. The way he's lounged on the thing, it's hard to really determine what the 'next' seat is.

"And…that's new…because?" Paz asks, dark eyes unimpressed by this show of lethargy. "Ya know what…Fuck this…c'mon." she instructs, waving Trey off the couch. "Time we did something fun."

"Fun." Trey eyes the girl up like he's trying to determine if she's insane, though in a good way. There's no denying the smile on his face. "Paz, you know if I drink any more stout I'm going to put on ten pounds and my lips are going to fall off." He more or less slithers off of the couch, "What's this 'fun' that you speak of. I'm warning you." He folds his arms over his chest, "If this involves walking around in a space suit, getting piss drunk, or going into the sims, I'm going to… well, I'm going to do something."

"None of the above." Paz grins mischievously. "Matter of fact, I dunno if my idea'll work or leave us both in sickbay in body casts. But if I'm reading the ship's schematics right, and I like to think that I am, this could be fun on a bun!"

"Everything threatens to either work or leave us both in sickbay in bodycasts." Trey peers up at Paz skeptically and waits a few seconds before he actually answers, "Okay, okay. You know… if I said no, I'd probably regret it every day for the rest of my deranged little life. Lay it on me, sister. What's in that head of yours?"

"If I told you, you'd probably turn me into the Marines." Paz grins, mischief glowing bright behind her eyes. "C'mon, time to turn that frown upside down and let a smile be your umbrella…or a shriek…." she adds, pausing for a moment. "Oh, screw it, what's the difference?"

Markovic arrives from the TCSF Officers.
Markovic has arrived.

Trey is standing near the central couch with his hands on his hips, regarding Paz, who stands near the archway, with a smirk, "It's not a frown, Paz. It's an inverted smile. Don't they teach you anything in flight school?" He steps towards the other pilot, "Okay. So if whatever you're talking about doesn't work, am I getting drummed out or a demerit or something? Not that I care, but you're scaring me. I like that in a lady."

"If it doesn't work, we may both die." Paz replies simply. "See, I found this access door that leads to the main air recyc chamber. Just big enough for two people to stand upright inside of it, give or take a meter or so. So I'm thinking, _MASSIVE_ air currents strong enough to hold up a board….Bingo! Instant atmo surfing!" she says, grinning the grin of a little girl who just discovered something naughty.

Markovic The Wounded appears in the hatchway. She was recently released but has been holed up in her barracks for the most part, doing her best to recover in silence and haunt her own bunk. She doesn't seem to have caught onto the conversation where it is at. Her hands hang off the rung at the top and she leans into the room a bit. "Evening. Has anyone seen the new Captain?" Her eyes flick around the room, voice quiet for the moment.

Wait, what? Trey's eyes widen and that naughty puppy-dog look returns to his face ten-fold. "Paz, that idea is so awesome I just peed a little. All this and you're a girl, too? Now I know we're doomed. Nothing this cool ever happens to me." He grins and walks towards her, "You are -so- fucking on, girl. I…" Markovich entering the powderkeg gets Trey's attention. "Hi there. Captain Jailbird was in his quarters, I think."

"Captain Jailbird?" Paz asks, frowning a little. "Somebody knows something I don't." she adds, frowning sharply even as her eyebrows wiggle excitedly in Trey's direction. "What's the story, Captain?" she asks the senior officer.

The Serbian looks between Paz and Trey for a few seconds, a single brow quirked. "All this talk of fucking in the barracks. Sounds like things have heated-up while I was in recovery." She cuts a quick wink to Paz before looking to Trey. "Da. Jailbird, if you must. But in his room? Then I shall try there." She leans back a bit, dropping her arms to her side. "You all are okay? I have heard there has been some rough action." Her voice falls a bit serious but doesn't quite meet a command request with her inflection.

"Well, sir…it's…over ..there." Paz adds, totally nonplussed, pointing towards Pip's stateroom. "Anyhow, we going to do this or not, Sloppy?" she asks. "We got about a half hour window between the FOD walkdown at the end of this shift and the beginning of the next."

"Oh, we're not, you know. Together, sir." Trey gestures to Paz, "She and I have an easy relationship. I talk to her boobs and she secretly likes it. And then she devises terrific ways for us to kill ourselves. I mean, extra ways. I think of it as extra-curricular danger." He turns back towards Paz, "You go on ahead. I'll look at your ass." Shameless, but he hardly sounds serious.

Marko's initial attention falls to Paz with a simple nod and knowing smile before she looks to Trey. "Well hopefully you are not too much of a distraction for the Lieutenant's tits. She will need them in future ops to offset the lack of prostates around some of this boat." Its delivered somewhat dry, her comments obviously directed elsewhere while still falling towards the pair. She moves off towards Pip's hatch.

"And speaking of mammaries, I'm pleased to see that yours have recovered nicely, sir." Paz calls on her way out of the door. "But you're still awfully _pale_…maybe wanna work on that a little…Less Count Dracula, more TCSF Officer, if I may be so bold, sir." she chuckles as she high-tails it, giggling. "Cmon, Slop, I dunno what's about to happen in there, and I really don't want to find out." she adds.

"Trouble sighted, bearing zero zero zero mark zero zero." Yes. Straight ahead, Trey. Straight ahead. He snaps off a sloppy and unneeded salute to Markovic and chases right after Paz.

Jenthson arrives from the TCSF Officers.
Jenthson has arrived.

Pip's hatch? It opens mere moments after Markovic begins heading in its direction. And when Frethan spots her, he blinks for a moment, and steps out. Shutting the door quickly behind him. He's in his usual flight-suit, still in the process of zipping it up to the collar, in fact. "Ah, Captain. I do believe that you've wandered into the wrong bunkroom." A typical smirk from the Englishman, and he gives her a quick visual inspection. "It is nice to see you up and about, though." While speaking, he locks his hatch.

Marko stops on her way out to respond. "I need to get some reconstruction. But thank you. I will try for the less pale. I am still trying to get back in the saddle. I assure I will be back to full Bitch in a few days, Lieutenant." The Captain smirks and looks back to Pip's door just as it opens.

Bowels of the Main Atmospheric Recycler…

Paz's newfound grotto is only accessible through an impossibly narrow little hatchway set into the very ceiling of main Engineering. Just getting to it's an adventure. First, there's the bribing of the duty watch officer to pretend they can't see two full grown adults sneaking up a ladder towards heavily restricted spaces in full view of all and sundry. Then there's climbing inside, which is as much of a gymnastic exercise as anything else. Then there's the crucial, 'Finding the Only Safe Spot to Stand in the Whole Fucking Compartment'. See, the Main Atmo Recycler wasn't meant to be occupied in use…so it's a bit of a pickle.

Trey, if nothing else, has been a very willing partner throughout the whole 'getting here' stage. If anything, once he knows where to go and what to do, he fits in as though this sort of creeping around is natural to him. "So…" He finds himself in the Atmo Recycler with Paz. "Wow." He hehs and looks around, "I always wondered what one of these looked like on a ship this big. OK. What's the plan? Lay it on me sis. Let's do this." He grins, animated like a cartoon.

The compartment isn't really that big, comparatively speaking. Picture a good-sized wave pool at any given water park and you're in the neighborhood. The difference is this wave pool is dammed up on all sides by micro-fine grates, through which, the ships atmosphere is cycled to sperate out the bulk contaminates on it's way to being further scrubbed through electrolysis. In this one spot the two officers occupy it's possible to speak without screaming and be overheard thanks to quirk of design. But on either side of the 'pad'? It's a howling gale, driven by dozens of turbofans in the name of maximum effiency.

It would appear that Paz is not the author of Atmo-Surfing, judging by the battered DC planks leant against the bulkhead and the funny, 'flip-flop' thongs affixed to them. "Lose your boots." Paz instructs, setting action to words. "Grab a plank, set your toes in _HARD_ and push off…From there it's simple. DO NOT FALL OFF!" she grins. "You'll get sucked down one of those tunnels and suffocated against the grates."

Trey's hair blows in every which direction, proving its connection to his scalp with empirical evidence. His eyes gleam as he looks around and considers the possibilities. "OK. When you say 'suffocated', you mean, like, actually suffocated." He doesn't sound all that concerned, though he's certainly curious and will appear to want to know the details, "I don't like suffocating. So I'll make sure I don't fall!" Sounds good. He crouches and unlaces his boots halfway, then just pulls them off of his feet. The socks come next, and he eyes up a plank, then does exactly as Paz says, shoving his feet into the straps good and hard, "If I asked if this was the first time you did this, you'd tell me no, and then you'd giggle, right?" His grin is so wide one could fit a rifle in there.

"Something like that!" Paz calls, shoving her toes firmly into her own plank and pulling her crucifix and medallion of Saint Joseph of Cupertino out of her undress fatigues and giving them both a kiss before pushing off, and….Into the Tornado! "COWABUNGAAAAAAAAA!" Paz cries with delight as the air currents spin her about madly.

Trey mouths 'Cowabunga?' to himself, honestly appearing one hundred precent unfamiliar with the term. "THIS IS PROBABLY," confides he, "ONE OF THE DUMBER THINGS I'VE DONE! AND THAT'S SAYING SOMETHING! HERE GOES!" And with that, he kicks himself off and flies headlong into a pressure system so convoluted it could give Pascal a run for his money, "HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT!" He does not have anything resembling grace, but at least he's not falling off. He whips around in the maelstrom of air, laughing hysterically all the way.

"LEVEL YOUR BOARD!" Paz shouts, hoping to be heard over the din as she sets action to words, pressing down on the back end of her D/C plank to slow her spin until it all but stops. "THE AIR COLUMN'S HORIZONTAL….LEVEL OUT AND YOU CAN GLIDE…" she adds, then grins mischievously. "OR YOU CAN BE CRAZY!" she calls, and suddenly tucks her entire body down and leans out, kicking down just enough of the tail of her board to send her into a wild three sixty!

"I'M NOT BORED ANYMORE!" Trey's spirited response is, at least, followed by a careful observation of the other pilot once he manages to get something resembling stability. He watches her, nods, and then pushes off, good and hard. As advertised, he sails clear across the gap, howling with laughter the entire way, "HOLY SHIT! DID I MENTION HOLY SHIT?" Once he reaches the other side, he kicks off again and starts learning to turn. He banks slow and steady, sweeping around from one side to another and cutting across Paz's field of view with a gale of laughter, "THIS IS AWESOME!"

<FS3> Paz rolls Reactive: Good Success.
<FS3> Trey rolls Reactive: Success.

"MOST FUN I'VE EVER HAD WITH MY CLOTHES ON!" Paz hollers back, grin wide enough to nearly split her face as she pirouettes her board all but neatly out of Trey's path. "OKAY, TIME TO PLAY…'PIPE'!" she shouts, stabbing her free foot down into the column and kicking her board perpendicular to the air flow. "FUCK!!!!!" she shouts as she's suddenly gliding along a steady current of air, tucked in tight just like on the North Shore of Hawaii. "THIS RULES!"

Beginning to get the hang of things, Trey starts to skate around on the powerful air currents in earnest, laughing so hard that it threatens to interrupt his balance. Speaking is straight out. He starts testing, attempting the equivilent of 'air jumps' and finds that yes. one really can change altitude, however briefly. He starts going in circles and banks his board to point his body inward. Arms extend out for balance, and he looks over to Paz. He was almost done laughing, and then he had to look there and see her. He ends the spiral and utterly launches shooting past her, missing by feet, and nearly crashing into a far wall.

<FS3> Paz rolls Reactive: Good Success.
<FS3> Trey rolls Reactive: Success.

"DON'T FALL OFF!" Paz shouts, then giggles throatily as she leans _DEEP_ into the coil, settling back on her board a little to ride the pipe as long as she can. "YOU GOTTA SHOW ME THAT LIFTOFF TRICK!"

"DON'T FALL OFF?! LOOK AT -YOU-!!!" Trey laughs hysterically again, and then kicks off one of the grates, crouching slightly and stressing his rear calves, and then goes though a very weak, but highly demonstrative 'jump' that does nothing to get him higher off of the ground than before, but gets the point across fairly well, "GET SOME REALLY GOOD SPEED, PUMP BACK ON THE BOARD, BEND ONE KNEE AND LIFT THE OTHER!" He shoots across the chasm and does it again, ending up a good two feet higher before he's naturally brought back to where he should be.

<FS3> Paz rolls Reactive: Success.
<FS3> Trey rolls Reactive: Success.

"GOTCHA." Paz shouts, then does as instructed, sending herself about two feet off the deck. "WHOA!" she shouts, windmilling her arms slightly as the change in air pressure threatens to tip her. "THAT IS AWESOME!" she calls, grinning as she lines up to try again. "SO…STILL BORED WITH SHIPBOARD LIFE?"

Trey grins toothily at Paz, then shouts, "HEY PAZ! DUCK!" What is he doing? Good lord. He sails straight at her, and then jumps the board. Presuming she ducks underneath, he sails over her head, lands somewhere near the coil, and loses balance for a moment as the baord is whipped around to one side. "I COULD GET USED TO IT!"

"HEY!" Paz laughs, ducking just in the nick of time and sailing over to bump against the opposite bulkhead. "OKAY, LET'S TRY SOMETHING REALLY STUPID!" she yells, voice getting raspy. "LINE UP WITH ME!" she instructs. "LINE UP STRAIGHT AS YOU CAN AND WIGGLE YOUR TOES LOOSE…I THINK WE CAN SWAP BOARDS MID-AIR!"

Trey shakes his head, "HOW ABOUT WE DON'T! YOUR BOARD SUCKS!" Grayson, however, dutifully lines up behind Paz and places one hand on Paz's shoulder and the other on her hip, "Better idea! Let's get a train going. Wait…" He reconsiders, placing both hands on her shoulders.

"YOU KISS ME, YOU OWE ME DINNER!" Paz laughs, steadying herself best she can.

<FS3> Trey rolls Reactive-20: Success.
<FS3> Paz rolls Reactive-20: Success.

"I ALREADY OWE YOU A BEER, REMEMBER?!?" Trey grins, "OKAY! ON THREE, WE KICK OFF! ONE… TWO… THREE!!" Trey essentially drives the train, kicking hard off of the back wall and pushing Paz forward with him. Their mass combined, they certainly move slower, but it's an awfully smooth ride, and Paz will find she can totally steer this thing. Trey starts cracking up, "I NEED AN IN-FLIGHT SNACK"

<FS3> Paz rolls Reactive -20: Success.

"HA! THAT'S GREAT! " Paz calls, 'steering' the duo into a slow loop, then nudging out into the stiffer currents and cackling like a madwoman as the world goes ass over tea kettle. "HOLD ON!"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M DOING??" Trey squeezes Paz's shoulders for good measure, riding the train at this point.
<Newbie> Weiss has disconnected.

Finally, muscles aching with the effort, Paz pulls the train back to the 'Pad' and pries her toes out of the straps. "That's gonna be the new ship-wide sport." she grins, propping her plank up in the very same place she found it. "Cause that's just more fun than you should have and not be naked."

Trey exhales and laughs some more, his eyes tearing from all the hysterics this has been worth, He pulls the board off of his foot and rests his head against Paz's shoulder, still laughing, "No. Can't be. We'd have to wait in line if it became a ship-wide sport. I won't abide by that. Not happening. I'm not even going to joke about doing it naked because you might go for it."

"Don't see how we can stop it. Gonzales is a fucking _GENIUS!_" Paz sighs admiringly. "Leave it to a black shoe from a fuckin' landlocked province to come up with the greatest surf experience ever…goes to show…ya never can tell…" she smirks. "It's always the quiet ones you gotta watch…"

Trey let go of Paz, then crouches to get his socks back on, chuckling even now, "Nine times out of ten while you're watching the quiet ones, a noisy one will fucking -kill- you." He exhales, "Aaaah damn. Hey, thanks, Paz. Really. You're getting me through this fucked up… whatever this is. Holy fuck that was messed up."

"You're missing the point of the excercise, and of surfing in general." Paz replies gently, toggling open the hatch. "It's gonna be whatever it's gonna be…" she says sagely. "You can't control the ocean, but you can ride the waves."

Trey laces up his boots and then stands. His hair is a fucking disaster, so when he leans over to ruffle Paz's hair, there's an element of hypocracy at work so large it has its own gravitational force. "Nice save. Really nice. I know people and places for about twentyfour hours, and then they're gone. This long term thing is totally screwing with me. Sweet freaking crap. That makes it worth getting shot at all day."

"Glad ya liked it." Paz smiles, levering herself out of the little hatch and slipping onto the ladder. "Next time, you get to bribe the OOD." she snickers, and with that, she's sliding down the ladder like a bat out of hell.

The Powderkeg - Barracks of the 1087th Fighter Squadron…

"Tizona? She's a good young officer. But, she's not ready. Promoting her too early is apt to ruin her. I've made the mistake before." There is a very distinct lift to his eyebrows at her mention of God. "I can't say that I've reason to trust in any higher power. Not when I've got a head on my shoulders, Dejana." Pip falls silent after that, clearly thinking. "The situation is not critical, as of this moment. Who knows? Perhaps the reserves will scrape up another officer as good as me, to send along." And, Captain Lord Enfield stands slowly, knees audibly creaking with the effort.

Trey pushes his way into the berthing. He looks… different. Perhaps not unbecoming of an officer, but getting there somewhat. His cheeks are red. His skin and face look as though their owner just put in quite a bit of exertion. The main thing, however, is his hair. There's windblown, and then there's the result of placing one's head into a veritable F4 tornado, which would be classified as a step down from what his hair looks like right now. He doesn't say anything. He just walks in, whistling tunelessly.

Dejana nods a few times, seeming to completely accept everything the man has to say. There isn't even a grimace or batted eye at his remarks about religion. "I can understand the reluctance. Just keep possibilities in mind. Sometimes it takes that shove into responsibility to show even ourselves that we are ready." There's a stern assurance to her words as if she has been there herself. "Life provides us the opportunities if we are lucky. Senior officers if we are even luckier." She watches the man rise with a small laugh at his words and looks to Trey at his re-entrance. "Well then. I looks like someone met the business end of an afterburner."

"Aye. And he'll get arse-side down in his bunk, lest I am forced to beat it." Eyes drift toward Trey, and Pip just shakes his head once, in resignation. "I've got a CAP to run, in two zero, Captain Markovic." How amusing. He switches to rank and last name, when the subordinate enters the room. Jenthson is so strange, when he's sober. Key word being the last. A final look toward the brunette Captain, and then another, much less warm, toward Grayson. He doesn't even ask. It is better for his heart condition. And he's heading toward the corridor.

Trey says nothing at all, instead going for his locker and getting out a bathrobe and toiletries. He's still whistling. Everything is perfectly normal. Make no mistake!

Markovic watches Jenthson get feisty and smiles. She rises from her own seat as he moves for the door and chuckles to Trey. "Hope she was worth the butt-chomping you may get later, Lieutenant." The Captain's words are lighthearted and don't carry the same weight as Pip's. Then again she isn't Trey's CO. The brunette points her finger at him, the woman's hand in the shape of a gun. It 'fires' with the click of her teeth and she moves for the hatch herself. "Check six, kiddo."

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