Sophie (sophie_cato) wrote in bsg_avalon, @ 2011-02-26 14:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | sophia cato, thomas burk |
Philosophy of Command
WHO: Sophie Cato & Thomas Burk
WHERE: Battlestar Avalon - Hanger Bay
WHEN: Evening hours, Y02/12/05
Polishing tools gave Sophie back only a measure of the peace that she’d lost in her encounter with the officer in the hall. Her fingers rubbed a cloth across a socket wrench furiously, working at the metal until she could see her face in it before she reached for another. It should have been rack time for Cato but the woman couldn’t sleep, uneasy as she felt for reasons she couldn’t explain.
She didn’t fit in here. She’d known that before but a little part of her still dreamed of rising up and making a home for her son among people who wouldn’t give her the time of day. She hated the idea of leaving him on Hades but there had been no other choice.
Her thoughts were on Pax and not the deck as she continued to polish, wondering what her child looked like or how tall he was. It was her imagination that she heard and not footsteps, dreaming up a young voice as she let her thoughts wander.
It was quiet aboard ship tonight with over two thirds of the crew away on the short liberty call for the Tauran holiday. Admiral Thomas Burk lost the coin toss with his executive officer to see who would stay behind with the remaining crew. He rigged it with a slight of hand so he could stay. He had to catch up on his paperwork anyway. He had enough of socializing with the brass and suck ups in the past few days.
It would have been nice to spend the day with his boy who was a third year cadet at the Tauran Military Academy at Gladius Cross. He did not think his son would want his old man hanging around. It was bad enough for a cadet to have a father who was a flag officer. His son had to make his own name in the ranks without being under his wing. Of course he had other people watching for him.
Taking a break from the stack of paperwork, Burk strolled down to the port hanger deck. There was something peaceful about being in a quiet hanger deck among the many vipers. It brought memories of his time as young viper pilot. He then noticed a young deckhand near one of the machines cleaning tools. “What’s keeping you up this late, miss?” asked the commanding officer of the Battlestar Avalon.
“Sir.” She stopped what she was doing and saluted, she hoped, with a little more honesty than before. Sophie didn’t need to be placed on report by Burk and her face showed that, looking defiant and frightened all at once. “I was just cleaning my tools. There isn’t enough hours in the day.” She regretted it after she said it, knowing that he might take it for laziness or incompetence rather than the lie she’d actually been trying to tell.
“As you were,” he returned her salute. “If the tools weren’t dirty, then how am I to know that work is getting done?” He smiled at the deckhand to make her relax. “Though I do appreciate it,” he picked up a polished tool and looked at his reflection. “What’s your name, specialist?”
“Cato, sir. Sophia Cato.” She forced herself to stand straight, fighting a fierce smile at his comment about the tools. Dirty work was honest work--any native of Canceron thought the same.
“Relax, Cato,” he returned the tool he held back in the box. “So where are you from?” Burk often wanted to know those serving under his command which included the crew of Avalon and the escort and support ships which made up the battlestar strike group.
“Timandra last.” It was hard to determine which was safer to give him, the name of the Timandra or Hades. Either origin was suspect. At least, Timandra offered distance even if she knew the accent of Canceron was still in her voice.
“Not the destroyer?” He knew perfectly well she was not raised on a Colonial Forces warship named after the city. “And I thought I grew up in a military family,” he smirked.
“Hades,” Sophia amended with a flush. “I’m not from a military family, not at all. But when you’re from a frakki- Canceron, a battlestar’s the lesser of two evils.” She paused, then added, “Sir.”
“Ah, now I understand why you are here in an empty hanger bay with only machines and equipnment. It’s the peace and quiet.” He rubbed his chin. “Canceron is not that bad a place, I can think of much worst. I’ve done a little climbing in the Northern Mountains, and one of my best squadron mates was from Hades. It’s a great colony with a rich culture like my own.” Burk was Tauran, from Minos. His family belonged to the Heraclitus clan who were the military power of the elite which forced the Ha’la’tha off world in the First Tauron Civil War of the last century.
“I grew up on a shipyard,” she said quietly. “It feels like home here though home wasn’t ever quiet.”
Her hand stroked one of the tools thoughtfully, thinking of what it was like there. Never enough space, everything pinched and close and harsh. The supervisors who screamed at her or who leaned over her, pressing at her every nerve. Burk wasn’t like that--a little part of her didn’t know how to take it.
Sophie hesitated, then said, “I don’t know what you mean about the culture. I’m not sure... I ever saw much of it.” There were things to do if you were rich but her family had scrabbled at the bottom for generations. She was the first that she knew of who’d left the planet. She wondered if her son would be proud of that or if he’d simply see it as abandonment.
“I may have misspoke, it’s not one culture but many cultures. On Canceron there are many cultures, like anywhere else, but there are such big differences from one region to the next. Culture is not always about art or music, but community and family. At least that is my point of view.” He said. Burk’s philosophy of command is to treat everyone under his rank with respect. It’s a philosophy he developed with experience and age.
“I guess I never thought about it that way.” She let her fingers slip away from the tool. It was people like the officer who’d placed her on report who seemed to know culture, not just snipes like herself. “I... I’ve never seen a play or been to a concert or a museum or any of the things most people seem to call culture.” Sophie spoke to him honestly, for once forgetting their difference in rank. “I like your definition better.”
“Commander knows best,” he nodded with a little laugh. “Anyway Miss Cato, the next time this ship goes on liberty call. I want you to go to one of those cultural events. As a matter of fact, consider that an order.”
“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Her voice was unsure. She was brave in many things but this wasn’t one of them.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, Specialist.” He removed his hand. “Time for me to get back to work, too. It’s good to meet you.”
“It’s good to meet you too.” She tried not to look startled at the fact that he’d touched her. This encounter was nothing like the one she’d had with Jill. Sophie didn’t know quite what to make of it.