Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady?
Log Title
Summary: With the Majestic about to redeploy for her second combat cruise, Pip gives Tizona a choice, grow up, step up, or ship out.
Date: Date
Related Logs: None

1087 FS Commander Deck 6
Gemini System, Humboldt Quadrant — 0220 Hours 2658.079

Shore leave is ending, the Majestic is once again full of activity, as replacements arrive, new ships are transferred aboard, and the finishing touches are put on before a shakedown cruise to test her new repairs, and upgrades. In Pip's office, it is quiet…though the English Captain does appear to be rather busy, up to his neck in paperwork, as he reviews pilot files, okays requisitions, and otherwise readies the 1087th to accept a whole batch of nuggets from their training squadron. The joys of command.

Paz, baked brown as a berry by the sun, simmered deep in warm salt water, makes her way towards Pip's office, adjusting her uniform as she goes. Summoned to see the Captain…usually not a sign of good things to come in her experience. She pauses just outside to check her reflection before entering. "Lieutenant JG Paz Ramirez-Garcia, reporting as ordered, sir," she announces, coming to attention flipping the seated Pip a quick salute. If the fit's gonna hit the shan, it never hurts to start out on the most formal foot.

"Oh so formal. You're worried, aren't you?" Pip might be old. But he used to be a junior officer, and has dealt with enough of them to recognize when they're trying to make a good impression. A bemused smirk, and then his face turns to stone. Eyes fall back to his paperwork, and he finishes reading the page, and signing. He is taking his time, making the woman wait, before finally gesturing to the seat across from him. "Sit, Lieutenant. And tell me….do you enjoy your work? Or do you feel that it might be time for a change? Command is -always- looking for combat aces to work as flight instructors. We all pull time as a teacher, at one point or another."

"Eh, honestly, sir….Yeah, I kinda am after the other night." Paz replies, loosening up and chuckling throatily. "Never _EVER_ play a drinking game with a merchant spaceman." she grins. "Last thing I remembered was shooting out the mirror in the…." she begins to say, then clams up suddenly. Apparently, Pip hasn't gotten the word on this particular transgression. With the ship out of dry dock and back on the move, there's no sense burdening the poor man with the details now. "Eh..what?" Paz inquires, settling into one of the chairs before Pip's desk. "You know I love my work. This is what I live for." she adds, cocking her head curiously. "But if you're needing an instructor pilot, well, that could be fun too." she says, nodding a little. "Would that mean transferring away from the Minutemen?" she asks, sounding anxious.

"As a reservist, you would likely officially remain in the 1087th, but would be on detached duty to a combat flight school." A pause, and Pip taps the stack of folders that he is reading through. "Command is making us send two experienced pilots from the fighter wing. I am asking pilots with the required experience, see if anyone wants off of the front lines, before I have to start selecting non-volunteers." The Englishman makes no comment about the transgressions, nor does he even appear to hear her. Giving her the benefit of feigned ignorance, as they discuss something more important. "You would be gone for at least six months, more likely a year. But, it would mean less chance of dying to a Kilrathi, and more chance of being killed by some nugget who shouldn't be flying in the first place."

"Eh….Boss…I…I honestly don't know what to say." Paz replies, looking increasingly more confused as this conversation continues. "I mean…yeah, I know we need trainers, need 'em awfully bad. But that'd mean taking me off the roster and leaving us short a pilot. Do you really think you can spare me?" she asks.

"No. I don't. But Command doesn't care if I can, or not. I have to send someone, someone good. But someone non-critical to the functioning of my squadron. That means you, more or less." A pause, and Jenthson acts as if he is deep in consideration, trying to come up with -some- sort of mental compromise that can keep her with the Minutemen. "You've had discipline issues in the past. You're a young pilot, so allowances have been made." Sitting up a bit straighter, he studies her…"If you can stay out of trouble….I have a position that -is- critical to the operation of the squadron…." He pauses, taking a breath, and allowing her a moment to speak.

"Yes, sir." Paz replies, sitting up straight in her chair. "I know…I know I've done some really dumb stuff in the last few months." she allows, blushing slightly. "Tend to get a little carried away with things sometimes. Something I am going to work on." she vows,. her tone making it clear that ~gasp~ she really means it. Could her first active combat tour have had a maturing effect on her? "What position might that be, sir?" she asks, fidgeting in her seat a little.

"I need a First Lieutenant. I only have one, and a squadron needs at least two to function." Jenthson continues to study the woman, trying to see just what her reaction will be…"You would be responsible for mentoring the nuggets that we're sure to be receiving as we work up to full strength. You'll also be responsible for training rotations with the new pilots when Captain Carruthers or myself cannot. You will be the closest thing that most of them will have to an in-squadron role model. You are young, and were -very- recently in their shoes."

Paz blink-blinks, both completely gobsmacked and overjoyed at the offer on the table. "Um…" Paz begins, chewing at her bottom lip for a moment as the ramifications of such a billet come home. Hey, Tizona, guess what? It's time to grow up and start taking some responsibility for more than just your own life! Yeah! She's silent for a long heartbeat, one hand reaching into her shirt and pulling out her crucifix to stroke at it. In the end, though, it comes down to the memory of a fallen comrade who, like Pip, once trusted her when everyone else with half a brain was running the other way. "If you'll have me, sir." she replies, straightening in her chair. "I'm in." she says, with a hint of pride not heard since the first time a certain Captain Bartolomeo Jolly Ricci gave her her first second chance.

"I thought you might be…" An admission from Pip, and the file that he'd been reading? He pulls out a sheet of paper, and extends it across the desk, showing her what it happened to be. It is, in fact, orders for her promotion to First Lieutenant…with a submission date on the part of her commanding officer of a month prior to the current day. "I just wanted to be sure that you weren't ready to leave the front line, before I decided to make it official." He is a wily old bastard, you know. Jenthson reaches into his desk, and pulls out a small box, offering it over to her. Within are the extra insignia that she needs to affix to her uniform to reflect her new rank. "My congratulations, First Lieutenant Ramirez." And for a moment, he looks very proud.

Paz reaches over to accept the box with only the slightest tremor in her hands. The tabs gleam like fireflies in the muted light. Paz gives her medallion and crucifix a kiss before accepting it. "I won't let you down, sir." she replies firmly, voice thick with the kind of honor ony the Spanish know.

"I know that you won't, or I wouldn't have put you in for promotion, lass." A smile, and Pip sighs. "It isn't going to be easy, though. I suspect that we're going to be getting the dredges of the replacement pilots. Reserve units usually do. You will have your work cut out for you." Eying the clock on his desk, the Captain frowns, and offers the woman another sigh. "I wish that I could celebrate with you. But, I need to inform one of our Lieutenants that they are going to be shipped back to Earth for reassignment as a flight instructor. I suspect that he is not going ot be very happy, either."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License