Samantha

Lieutenant Samantha "Case" Passi

Christina Cox as Samantha Passi

Name:	Samantha Passi
Alias:	Case (Spacecase)
Age:	32
Hair & Eyes:	Dirty Blonde Hair, Green Eyes
Faction:	Air Wing
Position:	Viper Pilot, Lieutenant
Colony:	Gemenon
Play Times:	Late nights EST
Timezone:	EST

Biographical Info

History

Space. The stars. Home. It’s all I’ve ever really known. Born on a civilian freighter halfway between Gemenon and Picon, my parents worked among the stars more often than they did on the ground. Trade was their job, their life. Transporting goods, people, livestock, livelihoods between the colonies for just enough money that their meager family could survive. But then my parents always were on a touch of the nuts side. Religious. Religious as they come. I guess a lot of people from Gemenon are like that, though. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t born on that planet. Maybe it’s because I never saw the gods providing much in the way of anything for my parents but just enough to scrape by year after year. Or maybe it’s because I sailed among the stars every day of my life and they were my gods just as much as the Lords of Kobol. Either way, I never entirely bought into it all.

Family

My mother said my grandmother was an oracle. That I should respect family tradition. I said the only thing I respected was the big, black space beyond and that was going to be where I made my life. I promised myself that from an age too young for me to entirely remember. All I truly worshipped were those stars. They’ll be all I ever worship, oracle grandmum or not. And I’ve fought my whole life to get to them. I’m sure as hell never turning back.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I did end up among the stars, I suppose I’ve spoiled it for you now, but getting there is always an interesting story. I told you we never had much money. If I ever wanted an education, the military was going to have to pay for it. Fortunately, I’d been working the controls of some sort of a ship (on and off) since I was a teenager. Small family, small business, I knew my way around an airlock, so to speak. Picture us as farmers, but in space. With goods instead of vegetables. My parents hated the idea. We were good, Gods faring people who didn’t make war with anyone. During the first war my grandmother said she woke to visions of blood every night. I think there is just a good bit of psychosis and melodrama that runs along the line of the sort of people my parents are, so I found a way to escape.

The moment I turned legal age I snuck off the ship at a stop on Picon and ran as fast as I could for the recruitment office. I hated being planetside. I wasn’t even certain I’d be able to get through the academy. Gravity works different on a planet than in space, especially in our little vessel, but adrenaline is always a girl’s best friend and I ran. I ran for my life because, literally, I knew it would be.

Education

By the time my parents caught up with me, I had signed my name on the dotted line. Yes, I’d have to take a physical, be certain I was military worthy, but I was eager, the right age, and willing to serve. It was enough for them. The last thing I remember of that day was my mother crying, screaming, while I stepped past the gate and into the official grounds of the Academy. She told me she knew what war was. Her mother knew what war was. The gods knew what war was and that’s why we were all cast from Kobol in the first place. I was only serving to drive us farther and farther from Kobol and I would be damned for it. I never looked back. I held my cadets pins so tightly in my hands they broke the skin. It was the first blood I ever spilled for the military and I’ll never regret it.

The next years are a touch of a shifting blur. I’d never really been on a planet before. I hated it. The open sky. Sky is dangerous. The cocoon of a ship is the only place I’d ever known safety. I struggled to keep up, not to lose it the moment we ran outside. Boot camp was hell. Basic was hell. For the first time in my life, I began to pray. I looked to Artemis, the goddess of war. I asked her to teach me how to be loyal to this life, to these people. I prayed every night and I worked every day. And then basic was done. I had just scraped by with marks high enough for flight school. Screw the money. I’d already signed my life away to serve in the fleet to pay off the initial loans. Flight school loans could add to the 20 year contact I already promised. I just wanted to be there. I wanted to fly and I had done it. I was going back to the stars. And at least two decades of service in the fleet to pay for it all.

Flight school saw an entirely new change in my military career. I slept better, went through exercises better, already knew my way around changing gravity, and in general felt like a fish back in water. Space. The stars. I was going back home. Slowly, the statue of Artemis found it’s way into my duffle. Then into my trunk. Then forgotten. I didn’t need her any more. I was home. I began picking up a firearm instead. I didn’t need the gods to make me strong. I had a viper stick and a gun and that’s what mattered. I trained on the range every day before CAP. If I was going to see war, like my grandmum predicted, I’d be ready. I graduated second in my class and might have been first if I was a bit better at taking orders, but I still had a touch of wanderlust in my blood and flying cap isn’t about looking at the stars. It’s about looking at your screen, your people, and keeping in formation. Still, I didn’t do too badly for myself.

Reputation (or Mil. Service)

That was ten years ago. I’ve never really seen war since then. Looks like grandmum was wrong after all. Occasionally I take Artemis out, dust her off, but the gods are a load of bull, not necessarily worth their weight for anything more than the fact they give you the illusion of strength in yourself. I think, at least. The true strength I have is every day on the firing range. Every night in my bird. I didn’t jump assignments much, I liked being loyal to one place, one ship, one CAG. The only time I transferred and got out of there as fast as humanly possible was the one time they put me down on Caprica doing escort services. Damn planet. I transferred off that post as fast as humanly possible.

And then I transferred to space again. An AssaultStar. I was a damned good pilot, but I needed to get some more time in on the physical stuff. I never got along well in basic because of the fact it was planet side. Being on a ship with a bunch of Marines sure as hell taught me different. Firing range every day, sparring nightly, the usual day in and day out routine but things were rougher. Tougher. I grew stronger, faster. It made me not only a better pilot, but a better military woman over all. However, when I heard a new viper wing was forming on a ship called the Kharon, I wanted to go back home to a cockpit full time. So I put in for another transfer.

The Kharon. I took the post because they said there might be a chance of conflict and considering I left my family, my whole life behind because they hated war, well, I was ready to pay the price. Not to mention I wanted to fly a bird full time again. I hadn’t really seen conflict yet and there was a small part of me, the part that picked Artemis before all the other gods, that thirsted for action. There were issues on Tauron and they needed to be monitored. So an old Peyton class was being outfitted with Vipers, marines, the words, and sent out to toe the line. I happily agreed to join their Viper wing – the Vigilantes, and have been there for well over two years now. I got my promotion to Lieutenant on this ship. She’s my home. My love. And I still have yet to spill a drop of blood save that first one on my cadets pins, as my mother screamed at me, and my dead grandmother dreamt of war in her grave.

Distinguishing Features

A tough jawline and amused, wiry glint to her eyes at almost all points in time.

Trivia

From Gemenon originally, Samantha doesn't seem to buy into their usual religious tactics. If anything, she disregards the 'Gods' as children's fairytales.

Skills

Some whisper she's as good with a gun as most Marines, but then she is on the firing range every morning before CAP. It seems to wake her up better than a morning cup of coffee.

On the Grid

Known Associates

Mugshot	The Skinny
	Captain Karim "Spider" Marek. One of the best damn CAGs I've ever had the pleasure to serve under. He cares, he really does. He knows how to crack the whip when you need your ass moved, and how to be gentle if that's needed too. Sometimes I'm just waiting for something to go wrong. He's too damned perfect.
	Captain Althea "Black Cat" Legacy. If we were a bit closer in rank, we might be able to be best girl friends. I like our time together. When we had to hot bunk, it was the most comfortable I'd been in a long time. Nice to be with a woman who is simply just a woman sometimes. But then I see that Mama Cat sneaking in, driving us further apart, like I'm one of her children to be protected. I know she cares, but I wish sometime she'd just let us care about her too.
	Lieutenant JG Martin "Dash" Black. I still love him. I probably always will. I don't know if 'the one that got away' really counts for him, since he'll always be there. I don't think it's fixable either. Maybe it wasn't meant to be, but I'm not certain that I'll ever really be convinced of that. Not soulmates, but damn close. I'll always love the man, even if we never manage more than friends. Maybe that's the way true love is meant to be.
	Ensign Eddie "Mooner" Morales. I know she hates me with a passion. I got a sinking suspicion why, and it starts with M and ends with artin. I wish we could move past it. I apologized for the punch, the remarks, but I know sometimes the damage goes too deep. Best I can keep doing is being respectful and hope she knows I've grown up a bit. And hope she grows up a bit too. We're getting better, but we got a long way to go.
	Lieutenant JG Nadiv "Poet" Roubani. A curious equation. Distant, brilliantly intelligent, cold, and yet utterly sensitive and able to blush at the smallest drop of a leaf. A constant contraction, and yet a sweet one. And some of the remarks he makes… I think he's dirtier than he lets on. I like the man, even if I feel I barely know him. And I trust him… especially after Scorpia. Sometimes, I think he's the only one who truly believes…
	Lieutenant (JG) Jupiter "Fingers" Black. Martin's sister. Never really got to know her because she sure as hell doesn't want to get to know me. We fly well together, though. I love her as a wingman. Just wish it worked so well off duty.
	Lieutenant (JG) Willem "Rebound" Price. One of my first wingmen on the Kharon and one of the best, Willem and I just seem to -work-. There's a comfort there which I don't get with many others, like a long time friendship just found on the ship. I'm starting to love him like a brother, which is dangerous around these parts. Willem, if you're listening, marry the girl and make lots of little brats for me to be Auntie to, okay?
	Lieutenant Abraham "Rabbit" Hale. Excellent officer. Took over while everyone was down on Scorpia and kept the squadron together. On top of it, he got us all back. I can't say a bad thing about the man, even if I'm a little jealous of his utter skill.
	Lieutenant Timon "Ivory" Stathis. Loveable bastard. He's less annoying when he's not trying to hook up his ECO. Or being a genius smartass. Even if he did help save all our lives. Smartass.
	Lieutenant(JG) Anton "Thorn" Komnenos. The Thorn in my side. Hot as all hell, witty, optimistic, he's like a breath of fresh air after being locked inside a ship for months on end. And he's got a fantastic ass. Now we're engaged. Engaged. I don't even know what the hell that word really means, but I don't want to scream and run away either. I guess the third time is a charm. But my life wouldn't be the same without him and I plan to stay at his side until my dying day. I just wish we'd decided to take the big leap when we were sober. In vino, veritas, right?
	Lieutenant(JG) Castor "Tinman" Leda. Great kid. Got his heart in the right place even if often his words are all wrong. I worry about him on the squad, some of the others don't cut him the slack he deserves. Still, I'll always be there for him. Feel bad I almost walked away over the bomb incident. I owe him one. Or ten.
	Lieutenant Ajax Crydel. I loved him too. I really did. It would have never worked, he being the good guy, the religious man, the family man, and me being the scarlet woman. But it doesn't make a girl love him any less. I still don't get to make of what I saw on Scorpia. I know he was there. I know it. I know he blames me for the suicide and he has plans. I don't get any of it and this man keeps me up at night more than anyone else. Not in the good way.

Timeline of Events

+ PHOD 72, Case's Journal -- Stranded on Scorpia 

(This entry is written on slightly burnt, dampened, wrinkled paper found in a note book on the railway near Highway 606. The pen came from a dead man’s pocket.)

“You are a foregone conclusion.” He wrote it. He was here, and he wrote it. Alive, touchable, warm, speaking and acting and being very much his old self and yet not him at all. Ajax Crydel. I won’t ever forget that etching in the dirt. Left right next to my gun, the weapon I foolishly handed over to the man I trusted – the dead man – come back to life. And a single bullet left in it. I suppose I deserved it. Perhaps he wasn’t an angel, but fallen, back to take revenge, and yet even that makes no sense. Angels don’t exist, nor do demons.

And men don’t come back from the dead. None of this makes any sense.

I could have used the gun, been as weak as he was, but that simply is not the person I am. One bullet is enough to kill something trying to kill me, to maybe give me a bit of breathing space, or take down dinner for the evening. One bullet is a world of possibilities other than suicide, or so I keep telling myself. It’s one of the few ways to stay sane. So I holstered the gun, grabbed the empty pack, and began to walk. We’d studied the surface before going on the mission. I knew there was a military base somewhere around, and I vaguely knew Spider went down somewhere north of me. That alone was enough hope to keep me going.

So I started walking. North. A few hours into the day, as the open air hung about me and the sun blazed too hot over head, it wasn’t the gun that began to get to me, or the lack of a map, or compass. It was the space. Open air, terrain, planet side. There was always so much more -space- than in a Viper or even on a ship. I had almost forgotten how much I hated being planetside. The wide, open walkways, endless sky, inability to protect your back or see all that is in front of you. It was all I could do to swallow the panic. Artemis got me through it before. The first days of the Academy, first time I ever spent more than a day or two planetside, and I prayed. Gods, did I pray.

I didn’t pray any more. The fact that I was considering starting again told me I was closer to tasting that gun than I cared to admit. I reached down, confirming the safety was on once more, before continuing on my way. An hour into the journey, I found this. Paper. Abandoned, alone, a child’s sketchbook or teen’s journal. The cover used to be pink, I think. It’s brown now. But it was something – the ability to draw a map, to record where I had been, and to write. At least, as soon as I found a pen.

It was as if the Gods answered my question. Another kilometer on and I came across the body of a man. At least, I think he was a man. Decay had set in deeply, the smell drawing me towards him before anything else. I wanted to run, to forget the goal of getting anything useful, but if he had a single item of interest or use in his decaying clothing, looting what was left of the body was a worthwhile plan. So I knelt at his – its – side, and began to search. Everything was covered in fluids and maggots, but his pocket contained a wallet. Useless currency. A small camera, and a pen. The pen alone was worth it.

And so, I began to write. Here we are. I can’t draw, not for the life of me, but if I can record landmarks as I go, I’ll know if I’ve passed something twice. A map in words. A testimony to the shell that is Scorpia. I’ll begin with Michel Adrian Cooper, the dead man whose pen I’m using. He lays about 50 meters off from some scarred rail line that, according to the sun, runs east to west. The rail was another blessing to find. Several miles to the east of this location, I can see the blackness begin. The forest has been mostly cleared, burnt and black around the edges which are left, and where the colonial airbase once lay there is nothing but a large crater.

Bodies litter the path in that direction. Michel is just the first. I can count a dozen in sight lines alone and the smell is sickening. If Kai crashed there, he’s probably dead from the radiation already. It’s no use walking east.

So I begin to walk west. Along the tracks, away from the mass graveyard. I’ll need to find more water soon. I’m not even certain if it’s drinkable this close to the bombed base. I’m not certain it will matter if it’s not. Another mile of walking and the singed trees and rotting bodies are dim in the distance, barely there through the thick cover of forest. It’s a blessing to get among the heavy canopies of trees, out of the open air and sunlight. I haven’t seen another body for at least a mile.

It’s strangely getting lonely. I start to wonder if maybe Ajax was just in my head. Could I be mad enough to have emptied my own gun? And if he’s just in my head… why won’t he return? To keep me company instead of Michel’s wallet.

Quotes

"I got Artemis tattooed on the top of my ass. It meant something at the time. Now I just get pleasure on sitting on her every time I go to shit." - To her wingman, Willem, when discussing the subject of religion.

Misc

Likes

• Firearms
• A good boxing match
• An even better cigar
• A certain ECO named Thorn who's hair is getting too long for his own good. Just the way she likes it.

Dislikes

• The 'Gods' (aren't we all grown up already, really?)
• Talking about her family
• Being told she has a backwater accent
• The accusation that she is rocking the cradle with any of her frak flames. Thorn included.

Seeking

• Get named Ace pilot of the Kharon.

Gallery