New Mexico / June, 1958 / 02:24

[bingobangobongo]

Nighttime.

The desert cooled greatly at night, especially nights as clear as this one. Lieutenant (J.G.) Al "Bingo" Calavicci wouldn't know the difference. Half the bottles lay strewn in the dirt while the other half were placed precisely, a practical lineup on the white edge line of the road. Off the road, in the dirt, Al's candy apple red Corvette sat at the end of an abrupt stop scarring the road.

Nicely buzzed, Bingo smoked at his cigarette and paced back and forth in front of rowed glass bottles. "You've got a lotta nerve comin' here like this. And you bring your friends with you?" He waved his hand in the direction of the standing bottles he wasn't presently addressing. "What was I supposed to do, huh? You forced my hand," he accused, head swimming delightfully.

"Heh--hehe." Al was having a tough time keeping his straight face. Wildly turning on his heel, the man kicked one of the empties and pretended to watch if sail off into the distance. He hadn't seen where it had gone -- it was far too dark, even with the desert starlight. "See what you made me do, Vinny?!" Al's voice, gravel and honey, sweet and rough, carried off into the distance and didn't come back. He leaned down to stare accusingly at the bottle on the white line, one eye half-closed in mock posturing. At his fingertips, his Lucky was burning him, but he wasn't finished. Not yet.

Bingo snorted. "Yer done for," he growled out. He reached his hand to grasp Vinny's neck, but the cigarette bit at him and he yelped, dropping the Lucky Strike, the bottle of beer, and his sunglasses all in one motion. It was just enough that he missed the fact that the roaring sound he was suddenly hearing was, in fact, outside of his head. Feeling strangely prickly and disoriented, the Lieutenant sucked at his burnt finger and turned just in time to see the fireball descending down over his prized car.

Did he duck? Did he jump for cover? "No, no, NO!" No, Bingo doth protest fiercely into the night.

He didn't get to see what happened. The force of such a nearby impact coupled with his already unbalanced step knocked him to the ground where he remained, head covered in anticipation of more wreckage.

Comments

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara tucked the spare cigarette behind her ear and plucked the already-lit one from Calavicci's fingertips. She took a long drag, inhaling heavily. Real cigarettes after so many weeks without still tasted of manna to Kara, and she'd happily share fifty more with the Lieutenant - though she'd rather do it outside the brig.

She passed it back and sat back on the cot. Trying her best to sound unconcerned, she said. "It's fine, Ensign. We're not the one's who'll hafta answer when Lieutenant Calavicci and I don't show up."

The man reached up and rubbed his neck, and Kara tossed a smirk at Calavicci. Pushing it just a bit, she put in, "And really, it's definitely within your rights to knock two people out in the road and transport them to gods-know-where, isn't it? Especially two people who haven't done anything."

The Ensign turned, looking both stricken and pleading. "But the plane, Captain - "

"Ensign!"

The voice issued from the hallway beyond Kara's sight, but soon their guard was joined by a man who looked like he enjoyed barking orders, names, and just words in general. "Calavicci, you're cleared to leave the base. Captain Thrace, however, is to remain." The man was wearing a Brig's single star (or what Kara recognized as one), so she assumed she was being faced by someone other than the aforementioned Horovitz.

"On what grounds?" Kara demanded, standing indignantly.

"You don't exist, Captain," the man spat. "So unless you have a really good story to tell, you're now a prisoner of the United States Air Force."

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Bingo stood, though he didn't put himself at attention like protocol might dictate. "Uh, sir, that's actually a story best told by me." Because, what the hell, he had an extra day or two. Deftly, the Lieutenant (J.G.) retrieved his smoke from Thrace. "Just-" He lifted the filter to his lips and took a long drag, making all of them wait for him.

"Lieutenant..." The senior officer's voice came out with a warning tone, long and drawn out like the pause causing it.

Calavicci raised his hands in innocence. "General, I apologize. We've had quite a night, as you can probably tell." He passed the smoke back to Thrace, half on the sly. "You see, the Captain here won't be in your records because you don't have clearance." The wince at the end was a precursor to what he expected to come.

The Brigadier General looked stricken. He turned and gaped at the guarding Ensign, but when the pup averted his eyes, the senior officer was only left to square off with Al. "You expect me to believe that?"

"No, sir, no." Bingo shook his head and glanced over at Kara. "I'm just required to make you aware. The Captain, here, is a liaison working with the United States Navy; working with me. What we're doing, I can't tell you. What I can say, however, is that we're due to report in and if they don't get a call real soon then there's going to be some Hell to be paid." Al cleared his throat. "Sir."

About to burst, the Brig's face reddened. "No one's stopping you Lieutenant. I suggest you go and make your calls." He looked close to rescinding the offer, though. "My security clearance didn't reveal shit, and if what you're saying is true and she's one of ours, I would have known."

Calavicci bristled. "With respect, sir, you're mistaken."

"Mistaken?" The General closed in on the much shorter Lieutenant, bearing down on him in an imposing manner.

Al didn't blink, but he lifted his chin. "SCI, sir. Compartmentalized clearance. Didn't you see the flag when you accessed my file?" It was a long-shot -- one he was banking on pretty heavily -- but his acceptance into the fledgling cooperation with the space program had given him access and clearance well beyond normal for someone of his rank, as well as a top secret flag thanks to the Navy's attempt to use space flight in more military applications.

The general looked hesitant and clammy as he turned his wide face to the Captain. "Is what he's saying true?"

Al stepped between Kara and the officer protectively. "She can neither confirm or deny that, sir." Head tilted, he glanced down and winked to his companion as he stole the cigarette away.

"Can it, Calavicci" the other man grumbled, leaning to give Thrace a pointed look. "Is what he's saying true, Captain?"

Turning just slightly, the young pilot took a hit from the cigarette and thought, Oh, Blondie, don't let me down.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

All right, all right, she had to hand it to the man - he wasn't half bad under pressure. She merely smiled at the Brigadier and snatched back the cigarette. Taking a protracted hit, she mentally reviewed the various and sundry lies they'd come up with.

"He's not going to get access to my files, Lieutenant Calavicci," she 'reminded' her companion gently. She turned her smile on the Brigadier. "Yes, sir, he's telling the truth. My plane, I assume you've found it by now?"

The man turned a glare toward the Ensign at his side. "Yes," he growled, "we have."

"And how did you find it?" she asked smugly, no longer worrying about how different what was under the skin of that burnt-up bird might look to the United States (U.S.! That's what that meant!) Air Force. In fact, the more bizarre, the better for her.

"Crashed, Captain; we found it in pieces."

Kara shrugged and took another hit before turning the cigarette over the Calavicci. "I told 'em the pitch wasn't quite right."

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"You did," Al remarked and stepped back away from the scene.

The general seemed reluctant to trust either of them, but obviously feared the repercussions of delaying the two young hotshots any longer. He growled and turned on his heel, stalking out of the cell and leaving the door open behind him. "Get them their things, Ensign," he barked and left them all.

Calavicci grinned. "Bingo." Another victory, well-played. As an aside, he told the departing Ensign, "We'll wait here," and then fixed himself to occupying his hands by pouring a glass of water, the cigarette hanging from his mouth.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara returned to the cot, taking a seat. She grinned up at Calavicci. "You have some experience at this, then?" She already knew the answer to the question, so she pressed on.

"Think they brought your car here?" She didn't want to have to walk through the damn desert on top of the morning she'd already had. She stretched her injured knee - it'd last, but for how long? She probably didn't want to know.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"I doubt they brought the car. If we're lucky, they'll give us a ride back." He wasn't holding his breath. The last of the cigarette went to Thrace and Calavicci leaned his elbows down on his knees as he let out the smoke. He was feeling tiredness gnawing at the edges of him, but he was determined to press on long enough to get the hell out of whatever remote outpost they'd ended up in.

As if on cue, the Ensign returned with Calavicci's identification and not much else. "Have a nice day, sirs," he said sheepishly, then exited as if it were his only desire. Al flipped through his wallet and muttered, "Dirty bastards took a ten-spot I think. Or-wait, no, I definitely spent that last night on a sweet little number at the bar." He looked thoughtful but distant. "Didn't even get her sweet little number."

"Anyway, you ready? I think I can get you a little help with that knee." As if it was normal to go from one such statement to the other.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

She waved off his concern; her knee wasn't even the largest problem on her radar at the moment. For now, the only thing she could worry about was putting some distance between herself and wherever they were.

She got to her feet, forcing herself not to react to the flare of pain. She found ignoring it familiar if nothing else - after all, she'd done her best for weeks to try to fool the old man when she'd originally torn it out.

"The only help I need will come out of a bottle." Kara stepped out into the corridor. "You coming?"

//

She watched the plume of dust grow as the truck that dropped them off at Calavicci's car grow in the distance. Feeling considerably better now that she was no longer under such close watch, she turned to the Lieutenant.

"I'm guessing you'd like some explanation?" she offered, plucking the spare cigarette from behind her ear. She held it out to him for a light and nodded on down the long and winding road. "Get me out of this heat, and we can talk a bit more."

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

For once, Al wasn't in the mood to argue. He reached into the car and retrieved the lighter he'd left the night before. The sun was beating down and the sun helped to deepen the already adequate tan he had been cultivating in Southern California. Sweat-glistened and loose-tied, Calavicci lit her cigarette and opened the door for her. "I don't think I can afford to miss this," he told her, honestly.

As he crossed around the front of the car, he rang his fingers along the hood and left streaks in the dust that had gathered. "I think I know a place in town that'll serve all our immediate needs." Maybe more, though Al wouldn't wager the two of them would be able to cause much more trouble without a good meal, some rest, and a couple stiff drinks. "We can talk there."

Calavicci started the car, barely able to contain a smile when the engine purred to life. After a quick turn-around, he looked over to Kara and fixed her with a sympathetic look. "Hey, listen... I, uh, I'm sorry about your plane." He'd been wanting to say that, but it just hadn't felt right until now.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

"Not as sorry as I am," she tossed back, but there was no edge to her words. Perhaps a bit of her honest grief colored her tone, but she couldn't afford to be angry about her Viper. She'd lived, after all.

She turned a bit in her seat so that she was looking out the passenger-side window. The scenery was unique, and it reminded her of training in the deserts on the moon, Lacedaemon, when she was a young pilot. Thanks to Calavicci's driving and the sheer power of the car, it also passed very quickly.

By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the seedy little bar, she'd worked up quite a thirst. She climbed out of the car before Calavicci could gallantly open it for her again and strode into the place as though she owned it.

Even though the bar's proprietors had clearly never heard of air conditioning, it was dark and cool inside. Her getup didn't even earn her a lingering glance from the barkeep, and for that she was grateful.

Kara went to a booth in the corner, leaving the drinks to Calavicci. She figured she could fake a drink order well enough, but without whatever passed for credits on her person, she was screwed. Besides, she figured it'd be right up the Lieutenant's alley to buy her a drink.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Fulfilling his role, the Lieutenant (J.G.) took to the bar and mingled with the keep briefly. They exchanged few words, but it was enough to tell the young pilot he could get Kara a room at a quiet little local tourist bed and breakfast, effectively giving her an upper hand should someone come looking. Al wasn't sure why, but it seemed as if he was looking out for her -- like he was responsible since she came crashing down nearby.

When he found her table, he was juggling a pair of beers and matching shots. "These are for you." He shuffled down a shot and followed it with a beer. "You didn't seem like the martini type," he joked as he slipped in across the booth.

He was glad to be out of the sun but the darkness of the bar presented him with a familiar sort of intimacy. He'd spent many a night getting to know a beautiful lady from the back corner. "Here's to..." Al had to think. "To classy escapes," he joked, raising the whiskey shot in toast.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

"Classy?" She snickered and tapped her glass against his, tossing it back hastily. The unfamiliar taste traced a very familiar path down her throat, burning in an immensely pleasurable way. Damn, but Kara missed real liquor.

After washing the drink down with a healthy taste of the frosty beer, she leaned back into a shadow. The nearest patron was a man at the bar who looked like he'd grown to the stool he was perched upon, so she supposed she could speak relatively freely.

Still, she hadn't wholly decided what approach to make, or even what truth she was ready to tell the young Lieutenant. He seemed trustworthy enough, but how would he take the knowledge she was from another star system?

Kara did her best inventing when she was winging it, though, so she decided to start in without thinking herself into a corner. "I'm not from around here."

It probably could have gone without saying it, but now that it was out, she leaned a little closer, readjusting the position of her hurt knee. "My bird, she wasn't either. The Air Force will know all they need to in a very short amount of time, I'd guess, and they'll probably come looking for me." With a shrug, she went on to say, "And I doubt any number of lies will get me out of the brig then, so if you wanna get gone now, I'd understand." She lifted her beer in silent toast and took another gratifying taste, waiting for him to make the next move.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Captain, there aren't many that are from around here." He sipped slowly at his beer, reveling in the coolness of it. If his feet weren't killing him, he would have already gone back for seconds just so he could have said he was that much more refreshed. When Calavicci was satisfied he'd quenched his thirst, he leaned forward on the padded booth seat and rested his forearms on the table top. "Anyway, it hardly matters at this point. As soon as they track you down, they'll track me down." It was presented as a fact because he knew they had film and her plane and his information. If she was as truly screwed as she was presenting herself to be, he didn't see a point in making any real haste.

He was wishing for a cigarette, but that could come later. "Let's cut to the chase here, Captain: Where are you from? Is it a place that's going to get me tossed into the brig for treason, or can I walk out of here when I know you're all right and pretend like none of this will make a difference in my file?" Despite his somewhat serious tone, Bingo had a youthful exuberance and the ability to enjoy trouble in all its forms. He was grinning, face flushed from the combination of alcohol and excitement. He'd always liked the type of woman who could make his heart race just fir sharing his company.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Treason? "No, not treason. At least, I don't think so." It was highly unlikely, at least, unless she'd somehow managed to find the sole planet that was at war with the Colonies without her (or the Colonies') knowledge. How to tell him that, though? No matter what sort of clearance he had, she knew the truth would likely still come as a shock. If he hadn't mentioned off-planet anything thus far, well chances were he'd never had to consider such a thing.

"Anyway, the less you know, the better. You won't have to lie if I don't tell you, right?" It was evasive, and not even a very good evasion, but she hoped it'd be enough for the moment. She took another edifying drink, mulling over what she did want to tell him. She guessed sticking as close to the truth as she could would work out the best - it left less to remember incorrectly later.

"I am a Captain, though. And in the Air Force." Both were true, and neither piece of information could hurt either of them. "But I'm pretty sure I'm stranded here, and I don't think anyone's going to be coming for me." She dropped her gaze at this - speaking it aloud seemed to make it real, and the grief over losing her bird blossomed into something more oppressive. She'd just lost her entire civilization, and more importantly, all of her friends and what passed for her family.

It took her a long moment and another drink to recover, and even after that, she was no longer running on all eight cylinders. Still, she was a soldier, and moving on despite her emotions was what she did. "So as much as I hate to do it, I think I need to..." - she couldn't bring herself to say 'hide' - "...to lay low for awhile." She hoped it went without saying she needed some help, but thus far, Calavicci had proven pretty quick on the uptake.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Bingo nodded as Thrace spoke, taking in her evasion and filtering it through what he'd already learned from her. She wasn't lying about her service -- that much was crystal clear. The way she held herself held the essence of military, so much so, Calavicci guessed she probably didn't know much else.

He dipped back the golden brew of the gods and resisted the urge to "ahhh." "Well, Kara -- you don't mind if I call you that, do you?" There wasn't really a pause there for her to answer. "I've got a couple days to kill and it seems like you could use a little help. What d'you say to lettin' me give you a hand?" Al didn't think she could deny him. What other choice did she have? Besides, he would gladly admit to finding her company to be quite interesting and intriguing. "I happen to know there's a little place not far from here that's well enough off the radar that you might have more time than you'd guess."

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

It wasn't ideal, not by a long shot, not when she wanted to be back in the sky with Lee on her wing, but what options did she have? Send Calavicci packing and try to give it a go on her own? No - that was foolhardy (not that many people had accused her of being deliberate and thoughtful in the past).

She drained the last of her beer and nodded. "All right." She smirked at him quite despite herself. "I don't guess I'd be able to get rid of you if I tried, anyway." He was definitely... persistent, and she admired that.

Kara didn't want to wait to hole up for a few days, but she didn't want to look like she was running scared. She wanted another drink as it was, but she didn't exactly have any way to pay for anything. Either way, she didn't have much to bring to the table in the way of cash, and she figured she'd better bring it up before she found herself in a worse predicament.

"I had to travel pretty light for my flight," she told him, leaning forward into a shaft of sunlight. She reached under the collar of her tanks and pulled out the chain that held her tags and Zak's ring. "I have this, though, and it'll fetch a price." She wasn't sure what it was made of exactly, or how much it'd be worth, but she guessed it could net her ante into some game or another if nothing else, and from there? Well, like Kara had told him, she made her own luck.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

She was right, he wasn't the type to get interested and then walk away. Calavicci had been looking for something more exciting to occupy his time, and so far, she'd provided more intrigue than Albert was bargaining for. Not to be left behind, he finished his beer and leaned forward to examine the tags, mind not yet interested in focusing on the ring.

It was written in English -- he saw that first. Aside from that single similarity, it hardly resembled any identification tag he'd ever seen. The pairing was gold, worn, hexagonal, and bore a strange engraving he couldn't quite interpret. It definitely had structure: A symbol for something, duplicated with far too much precision to be handmade.

For the first time all evening, Bingo felt a chill. The inexplicable cold settled in his stomach. He swallowed it down and put on a rueful grin. "Captain, I can't say I'm not hesitant. I have questions, and there's about fifty people that would call me foolish for considering it, but I don't think I can get very far without at least a few answers." He tilted his head forward and looked across the table with an intensity all his own.

After an all-to-long moment of silence, he raised an eyebrow. "Got a couple days and a couple bucks. What d'you say?"

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara tucked the chain back under her collar, needing the familiar weight of the tags between her breasts for reassurance. She regarded Calavicci for another long moment, not missing the way the excited light in his eyes appeared to flicker and extinguish. Perhaps he wasn't as naive as she'd first suspected - his ability to lie so confidently to a Brigadier was her first clue, and the dark, searching look he was giving her was wholly another. Still, Kara had faced down far tougher opponents than the young Al Calavicci, so his sudden reserve didn't frighten her in the least. She could get by without his help if it came down to it - it'd be easier with him on her side, and she knew the man knew it, but the fact remained she was presently holding all the cards, not vice versa.

"What else do you need to know, Lieutenant?" she asked, injecting the cool imperiousness years worth of command had bred into her into her tone. "I'm a pilot, like you, and I'm in trouble." She gave a shrug, barely restraining the urge to smile impishly at him; Kara was a gifted and engaging storyteller, and she knew a rapt audience when she saw one. Containing herself as not to entirely lose the upper hand thanks to overconfidence, she pressed on. "I've given you plenty of opportunities to get lost, and I figure if there was anything else that really mattered that I haven't said, you'd be gone by now." Leaning in a bit, she tipped her head to one side, the look in her eyes just shy of beguiling. "So let's not waste any more time, huh? If you know someplace not quite as obvious as the nearest bar to the Air Force base, I'd love to hear it. If not?" She gave him a look of patented unconcern - it was a look that usually made people stomp off in anger. "Well, if not, tell me know."

At that, she leaned back into the darkness afforded by the corner booth. She'd heard a truck roll to a stop outside and the slam of a heavy door, and she didn't want to chance the next patron to stroll in being their friend, the Brig. In an attempt to look at ease and to keep her gaze lowered, she concentrated on her shot glass, running her fingertip around the rim and coaxing a low whine from the glass.

((ooc: I'd just like to point out that the ad on Al's journal before I logged in was for fertility drugs. WTF, LJ? XD Also, great icon!))

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

Since Thrace had already decided their outcome, Al held up a finger and slipped out and away from the booth. He didn't quite know what she was getting at by being so elusive, but the more secretive she acted, the more entwined he felt.

Ooh, this was bad.

Calavicci had plenty of access to secrets that few else were privy to. His clearance (as he previously mentioned) was exceptional. He could pull files on a plethora of top secret project, enter notes into the dossiers for those superior to his rank, and could probably stumble across a downed experimental aircraft on any other occasion without so much as a hiccup. It was, in fact, the incidence that created such an intense curiosity within him.

He approached the bar and held up two figures to the tender. The non-verbal communication was received leaving the young Lieutenant to his thoughts while he waited for service. He turned, an elbow resting on the bar to help support some of his weight and give him tired feet a rest. From his vantage he could just see the edges of their booth in the darkness. Kara's legs were partially exposed to view but the rest of her remained well hidden in the corner.

Al had much to wonder. Where had she come from? What exactly had she been flying? Where was she going? She sounded American, acted like a pilot, and had mannerisms that reminded him much of himself -- at least that much seemed like blatant truth in the shadow of much doubt and misdirection.

For all the questions that he had, one thing remained painfully clear: She did need help; the tone of her voice, the way she carried herself and the injury to her knee were enough to reveal the truth. And for as stupid as he knew it to be, Albert was not the type of man who could ever turn down a woman in need.

Calavicci paid for the beers with a five dollar bill and left the change as a tip. When he returned to the booth, the Captain had maneuvered herself into the corner and propped her leg on the opposite side. Al figured it would help to relieve some of the pressure on her knee, so he stuck more towards the outside of the seat and allowed her the room. "So," he started while gingerly pressing her beer across the smooth surface, "I want you to consider this a..." He couldn't think of the correct word quickly enough, so he settled. "Considering this an offering and an apology, Captain. You've obviously been through a lot. I think I can help." If ever there were a sincere face, it was his.

Now that the excitement was wearing off and exhaustion setting in, he felt terrible for not being more of a help. He tried to imagine himself in her position: downed, shaken, injured, alienated. If it had been him, Al wasn't sure he'd've stuck around to take the help being offered.

"I've spied a place nearby that will work for your purposes, if only long enough that you can get some rest and get off of your feet. Think there's a place to get some clothing in the next town over but we're better off waiting until tomorrow for that. And then..." Well, really, he didn't know what would come next, but at least they had a primitive plan.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara watched Calavicci fetch another round and she relaxed - he wasn't going anywhere, and he seemed to be willing to go along with her no-question rule (at least for the time being). She'd learned over time to give in and accept aid from her compatriots in battle, and though it'd never be second-nature to her, right now, she was more than willing to do so.

She accepted the cold brew (and his unnecessary apology) with a nod, and leaned a bit closer to hear the rest of what he had to say. "'S it somewhere you'd expect to find a military asset such as myself?" She presumed he wouldn't be so stupid as to pick another dive within a mile of the base, but it never hurt to ask. Though, after the twenty-four hours she'd just had, she'd have taken any bed put in front of her.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Not in the least." From what he understood, the place he had in mind was known for being empty but well-tended. It was a sweet little get-away (in more ways than one.) Al didn't feel right telling her in the bar, though. If someone was listening, they'd already know he was military (thanks to his obvious uniform,) and her as well (thanks to her most recent question.) Easy enough to track. "Think you'll find it just right," he affirmed, nodding on his way into a hunch.

Where the conversation went from here was something Calavicci had to think on. He knew she would understand his evasiveness when she caught on to its persistence, but what to say until then? How he wished he had a cigarette to share. Somehow, conversations seemed to flow better when a smoke was involved.

"How long you been flying?" Yes, it was a question, but he figured it was the safest to ask of any if he was going to break the rule.

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Kara tucked her hair behind her ears, relieved by his assurances. The less she had to worry about being collared and hauled off for not officially existing, the better. Still, the moment she felt she could breathe a bit easier, other doubts and fears sprang to life and begin to vie for her attention.

Luckily, Calavicci's question helped to quiet and focus her mind. She could talk about flying all day, and he was undoubtedly the same. Kara grinned.

"You just trying to ask my age, Lieutenant?" she tossed back wryly, rearranging her sore knee in order to slouch down into the booth comfortably. "I executed my first touch and go my third day of flight standards ten years ago - you'll find you need all of your fingers to count that high."

She smirked and took a drink, closing her eyes in order to appreciate the cool line it drew down her throat. When she set the glass down one the table again, she leaned toward him, propping her chin on her hand. "Yourself?"

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

"Coupla' years," he said somewhat dismissively. No mistake, Bingo loved to fly, but he was still a bit green and dreamed that flying would always be an option. Taking things for granted is a career to the young. "Been trying to work my way towards something faster, but you know how it goes: I pick it, but they approve it."

A sip, another sip and then Calavicci was scraping at the label just so he had something to do with his hands. He avoided the obvious questions, like asking what flight school she graduated from and instead went on to ask, "Got anything holding you back?"

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

"This an interrogation, Calavicci?" She asked it lightly enough, clearly joking. She jonesed for a cigarette to roll between her fingers or the feel of a nubby old Triad deck. She had no place else to lay her attention but the man across the table, and Kara did nothing halfway, so she surveyed him closely.

The immediate reaction to his question was no - nothing had ever held Kara back. In fact, she used nearly everything in her path to get whatever she wanted, to succeed and surpass. In the past four years, though? Frak, she did everything she could to stay right where she was. Kara never wanted to be promoted out of the ranks of pilots or be forced into a prettier uniform in CIC. And tat didn't even include the woman she'd been on New Caprica.

Still, she was hardly going to jump into that with anyone, let alone a relative stranger. She shrugged easily, her eyes bright on his. "Just my own bad reputation." She took another taste of beer and regarded him - he hadn't seemed to keen on answering her last questions, and Kara had been somewhat let down; from Calavicci's performance back in the brig had made him appear to be just as capable a storyteller as she. And if anyone needed a story - better known as a distraction right now - it was Kara.

"You a natural, Calavicci?" she asked, with just a touch of sarcasm. All pilots claimed to be gifted on the stick.

[bingo-faced.livejournal.com]

The edge on her voice issued forth as a challenge. Bingo, open to the opportunity afforded him, grinned devilishly as he leaned forward. "A natural as a pair of--" He was making some rather suspiciously round, grabby motions with his fingers stretched spider-like in front of him. But then, thinking better of himself, he summed up his analogy plainly. "--a pair of coconuts on the beach."

He felt the need to brag but played it smart with the knowledge that she had a great many years on him. Aside from that, though, he didn't know what she was flying. Maybe it was the fastest plane on Earth. In any case, he decided to steer the conversation to something a little more... impressive. "You know, you remind me a bit of this girl I used to know, Johanna. Met her when I was at Jacksonville. She was this perky little blonde file clerk and boy did she know how to party. She was a Liberty Risk if ever there was one. Well, one night we head out to this place with really cheap drinks and get smashed like you wouldn't believe. Missed our ride back to base, no cabs running, and we're just past the age where bicycles are an option." Bingo laughed, reliving the best parts in his delivery.

"Johanna finds this drunk and he's walking this little red wagon along behind him. Somehow, she convinces him to trade a ride back to the base for a coupla' bucks and the promise of some heavy and hot action with her roommate, Stella. He must've took her two whole miles only to find out she didn't have a roommate."

Al shook his head. "'Course, there wasn't room in the wagon for two so I can't say for sure, but I think she probably took that old drunk for everything he had. I'm pretty sure I saw that wagon in her possession again after that."

He looked distant for a moment, then focused back on Kara. "Come to think of it, she left me with the check and never did call..." It was as if the revelation were new. Bingo waved it off and took a drink of his beer. "Anyway, the point I think I was making here was that I believe you've got a bit of Johanna in you. A 'make-it-happen' kind of girl, which makes me wonder even more about what you're doing here. I ain't gonna ask, but it seems like you must've gotten where you were going or else you would have already pressed on, too."

[anekanta.livejournal.com]

Wondering if she should even believe Calavicci when he ran on so, Kara simply shook her head. She had no destination in mind other than the Lieutenant's supposedly secret hiding place for the immediate future. Beyond that - well, Galactica was her final destination, and she meant to return even if it meant rebuilding her bird from scratch.

Gesturing to the dive they were sitting in, she said, "If you think this was my goal, you don't have a very high opinion of the Air Force." She drained her beer, a slight burr of disappointment growing in her chest as she pushed the empty glass away. Even as exhausted as she was, she knew she could take up residence in their corner for the long haul. Whether it was the beer or the company, she couldn't be sure, but guessed there had to be something to the man's story about Johanna - he was definitely the kind of kid who seemed like he could get up to endless amounts of trouble. The willingness with which he'd hitched his wagon to hers alone told her that, and that he didn't press her for more details about her origin, her position, or her destination confirmed it. Kara, too, got up to her share of misdeeds, and if Calavicci had been one of her pilots... well, needless to say, they probably wouldn't be allowed to serve together very long.

She wished she could appreciate the young Lieutenant's penchant for mischief further, but the fact remained she was in trouble, she needed at least eight hours of solid sleep, and she probably needed a doctor (or at least, some basic first aid for her knee). With a glance at the window, she tried to gauge the hour - the sun was still climbing, so she put it at around nine. That meant it was probably ten hours or so since she'd crashed. How much of that had been spent unconscious and at the mercy of an apparently sloppy military? Just considering it made her even wearier, and even more willing to hide for a little bit.

The ease with which she'd been operating until then seemed to dissipate and she wrapped her arms around herself, looking tense. "Look, I'm stranded, all right? My mission was such that if I went down, no one was to come looking for me." She shrugged and shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around the possibility she'd be stuck there for a very long time, if not permanently. Everything within her balked at the notion, and her eyes reflected a renewed, if dim, fire and determination. "So if I'm going to return my plane, I'm going to have to do it on my own, and you can either waste my time by trying to figure out something I won't tell you, or you can help." She was banking on his curiosity making the choice plain, but if she'd pushed him too far, and he stood to go... well, she'd deal with that if it came to that. Kara Thrace had no use for people who couldn't hold their own against her anyway.