AWD #239: A Brief Rundown
A Brief Rundown
Summary: Details of known skinjobs are imparted and opions shared before conversation turns to other matters.
Date: 02/Sep/2013
Related Logs: Nothing specific
Brandy Toby Mahasti 
Fitness Center - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Smelling of sweat and grease, the Fitness Center is a place where individuals can come to work out or just work off stress. The area closest to the entrance is taken up by two very large sparring pads with a pathway down the center, each pad removable to reveal a Pyramid court beneath. The walls beside the pads hold lockers for everything from pugilist sticks to boxing gloves to rubber guns, though deadly weapons are strictly prohibited in here except by authorized personnel such as on-duty Military Police. Standing goalposts for Pyramid are also kept against the wall. Past the pads are a vast number of nautilus machines as well as free weights to lift. At the back of the room are workout bikes, rowing machines, treadmills, and stairclimbers. There is an entrance to the pool at the rear as well as a locker room to the side.
AWD #239

The jacket abandoned, Brandy is practicing her unamred combat, or working out some unknown stresses by pummeling punching bag with kicks and punches. The level of aggression from the normally subdued woman might imply her aggression has an origin though. The skill is moderate, but for such a bookish type that she normally seems, there is more the well honed body of an athlete.

Toby is on early shift, so having finished in the bays for the day he's now hitting the fitness centre before he showers and kicks back in the rec room for a bit. He too doesn't seem to be bothering with the jacket as he makes his way over towards his habitual exercise station. The punch bags. Nodding to the pilot as he finishes wrapping his hands he starts with a few warm up stretches for his shoulders and arms, the ease with which he flows through them indicting that this is perhaps a regular routine. "Hard day Sir?" he asks conversationally as he stretches.

At first,, Broandy doesn't acknowledge the title, her leg whipping into the bag in obvious frustration. Then a series of three punches into the swinging bag. Once the cycle is complete though she steop, returning the kicking leg to the ready position and keeping her fists raised. She glances around once, recognizing the man, she glances about again and finds no 'Sir' in range before actually realizing she is the one spoken to. "Afternoon." She offers and frowns back at the bag. "Stress, I am sure you will be finding out soon."

Toby completes a few more stretches for good measure then starts warming up on the bag itself. Fists only for now it seems, as his feet move only enough to keep his body in a reasonable position to punch. Form wise it's clear that he's no professional, his style being far more what you'd expect in a brawl than a boxing ring, but he seems proficient enough. "They letting Wescott out in another Raptor then?" he asks with an amused smile, "they always causes us stress. Good kid, but really should move to Vipers as we can make more of them." His tone remains light though, so it's likely not serious criticism of the other Ensign, then he adds, "I take it from that briefing you guys had yesterday that there's something big coming up? Movement towards Picon?"

Another series of kicks are launched at the bag, her body pivoting away from the man as she side kicks the bag. Then the foot lowers, and she spins about in a military fashion. "Something will be happening, Crewman. You will know that, there will be loadouts and such that will tell you that. However, we both know I am not authorized to discuss the details with you." A pause, not that she really seems winded, there is an almost errie transformation from the physical effort to the discussion. "What you might not guess, is I likely find that more frustrating than you do."

Seemingly happy enough to punch away and talk at the same time, Toby makes up his inability to shrug at the moment by replying simply, "we've known something's going to be happening for a while. Been one of those standard 'hurry up and wait' things though. Couple of months back we got the instructions to make the bays ready, which we did, and now we're twiddling our thumbs waiting for the brass to say go." Pauing briefly to steady the bag after a miss-hit he finishes with, "it was frustrating a month ago, now it's just boring if I'm honest."

Brandy turns back to the bag, slipping into the combat stance again, and launching a series of punches. When she ends, she takes a breath before commenting as she rolls and pops her neck in an even motion. "I don't know how you take it. I guess you are just more military minded than I am." She says before shifting to a totaional pattern that has her hopping to alternate dominate footing instead of sliding, and launching a more steady forceful punch. "You ever wonder about this? Is it just exercise, a throw back to a less united time. I mean, we know I would shatter my limbs before I'd injure Chrome, and the rumors are that the skinjobs are nearly as bad."

There's something in what the pilot says that obviously amuses Toby, although he manages to stop short of actually laughing, limiting himself to a shit-eating grin instead. Shifting ot her question he shrugs briefly before starting to punch again, "I use ot to blow off steam, don't imagine I'll be using it to take down a Centurian anytime soon though. Skinjobs.." he trails off there, really not sure, but having heard stories of how the formally resident Nine had been in spars.

Another solid hit after the reply, but then the woman looks at her hands with a bit of disappointment. "I should change up. Last thing I need right now it bruised hands or reduced sensitivity." she says and exhales as she glares at the punching bag like it is somewhat responsible for the lapse in judgement on her part. She steps back and starts hoping a bit as she changes to non impact drill of punching the wind. "Yes, Crewman, what have you heard of the mimicing models? Can they be fought like this?"

"Wouldn't recommend it," Toby replies, seemingly happy that the wraps around his hands and wrists are sufficent protection, "never seem one fight myself but there are stories." Another punch or two and he elaborates, "We had and engineering officer, haven't seen him around for a bit so he might have transfered, but he was widely though to be just about the best hand to hand guy onboard." Not that he seems despiritely upset that the officer is no where to be seen mind. "Word has it that he had his arse handed to him by a Nine," a slightly pause, "though if that's before or after he married it I have no idea."

"He married a Cylon?" Brandy says, everything coming to a complete stop and her eyes locking on the man in shock, "Did he know it was a machine?" Her hands falling to her sides as her face starts to recover into a scowl. "What happen to the thing?" She says, subconsciously assuming that the engineer must not have known.

"It was destroyed on the way to it's tribunal on Picon," Toby replies, also stopping, turning as he does so to face the pilot. "Took a Raptor, it's crew and a marine who was escorting it with it though. Enermy fire, probably hadn't realised one of their own was onboard." Sticking his hands in his pockets he can only give a shrug at the other question though. "They married just before I came onboard, although he certainly knew just after when she was outted in the Mess by a One who'd got onboard. Given his reaction? I say he knew before he married, he was comfortable with it and I doubt he'd have been if he'd only just found out. Can't say for sure though."

Toby doesn't look particularly happy with the situation either, truth be told. "There's two onboard," he confirms with a grim expression, "one is a Sergeant in the Marines, goes by Cooper Knox, or Six I think. The other looks like a lass, biologist I think, Doctor of some sort although I don't know if thats supposedly medical or academic." He pauses a moment to rey and recall what else he knows about that one, then adds, "Eleven I think I heard someone say, goes by Naomi Tasmin, or somesuch, often seen wearing a short red dress." He's doing his best to hide his growing irritation at their presence as he talks, and his hands, still in his pockets, have clenched into fists by the time he gets to the next. "The one that was destroyed was a Nine, and a fraking Viper jock. They let it keep flying too, for a while, before it was decided to send them all to tribunal. Fat load of good that did mind, given they ruled in their favour and now they get to swan around like good little colonial citizens." He spits onto the floor at his side at that last bit, not in anyway hiding his feelings about that particular decision before finsihing with, "I've seen two other models. A One, who outted the Nine as I said, it looks like an older marine type, and another young female form, although I couldn;t tell you the number of that one. I've heard a sixth has been ID'ed but I;ve no idea on what it looked like or what it did."

If Brandy has any disagreement with the man's reaction, it doesn't show, in fact the more hostile he seems to get the more relaxed her demeanor as she takes all this in with an increasingly studious attentiveness. Only little brow lift at the spitting, though likely more that she finds the reaction more unsantitary than inappropriate. "I see. Have they said why.. The ultimate why? And the little why when questioned? Why are the Cylons doing anything but eradicating us? And the little why being, why have so many duplicates of the same appearance? Sure, mass production is easier. But, if I were the Toasters and I wanted to spy on humanity, I doubt I would make a bunch of copies of the same person. Even if it meant less total units, the price of exposure would be too high.. Or do they just think we are too dumb to figure out the duplicates?"

Toby can only reply with a short, bitter laugh at that. "You think they tell me what they say when questioned?" Shaking his head slightly he continues, "I know the brass have spoken to them, repeatedly most likely, but about all I can tell you of what's said is a story that when you kill one it's conciousness is downloaded into a fresh body and it carries on. Heard a rumour that we're too far away from any toaster ships for that to happen here, but likely that info has come from them so place as much faith in it's validity as you want." His tone suggests that he's sceptical at best as he fills the pilot in from where they're both stood by the punch bags. Lifting one hand out of his pocket to wipe a bit of sweat off his brow he then remembers something else and adds quickly, "oh, and apparently there's twelve of 'em. So we're half way there on the IDs, again though, that info comes from them themselves, so there could be hundreds for all we actually know."

Mahasti moves in from out of the thing. She adjusts her arms, stretching out. Toby is watched for a moment and so is Brandy "If it isn't my two favorite people at this exact moment in time." she sits down "I take it she asked you about skinjobs?" she sits down on the ground to stretch out her legs properly "Frakkin Hades." she complains, as if sorer than she expected. She looks fiesty again today - irritated. "Skinjobs are a bad topic for Toby." she recommends, voice soft and professional. She seems rather calm for the day though. Irritated calm, a strange combination for some purposes that can result in overall amazing results.

Brandy looks like she has been beating a bag recently, there is one hanging close enough bay and her knuckles are taped up in proper fashion. A little sign of exertion to her clothing and only the very faintly noisture at her brow implies not much though. "So, we have them walking around the ship. And they are just waiting to get to transmission range to report everything that goes on here.. Planetside and all? One of them is armed?" The woman scowls darkly at the info, and it is then she hears Mahasti, "Good afternoon, Doctor.." Her expression shifting to one of concern. "Are you alright?" She asks leaving her rather stiff standing position to start to approach the woman.

"Making sure the Ensign here knows who's not what they seem," Toby replies to Mahasti with a vague nod of acknowledgement. He too has been working out, although he's seemingly fresher than Brandy so likely less far into his workout than her. Back to said pilot he nods, "the one in the marines is on full duty and the other one has a marine guard most of the time. Not sure when either were last in range of a toaster ship, the tribunals on Picon most likely, but yeah, they're both just walking around like there's nothing odd about it all." Another memory surfaces and he laughs bitterly again, "there was a near riot when word broke. Frakking raptor pilot pulled a gun on a bunch of knuckledraggers outside the mess when words were spoken to the Nine. Saw sense before she fired mind, but still, frak, that, shit." Any oddness about in the Doc's demeanor is entirely missed until Brandy brings it up though, he's just too engrossed in the conversation topic.

Mahasti eyes Brandy "Yes and they shouldn't let her continue doctoral research - she didn't work for the honor of being a doctor." she comments, dryly. "That bitch shouldn't have the privelledge of our marines." she comments. "May I work the bag a bit as well or perhaps try one of you, preferably not you Toby, you'd clean my clock." she eyes Brandy "Pain is the body's way of reminding us that we have things to do and did something wrong, I'm fine or I'd be in the sickbay. I kicked Luc very firmly yesterday and I guess I hyperextended a bit to hit his shoulder." she explains, standing up, stubbornly "I walked off a stabbing, you think I'm gonna let 'I hurt my foot kicking Luc in the shoulder' slow my roll?" she asks with a wink.

All of this is taken in, well, like an Ensign does. They learn, and Brandy seems to take that has a priority higher than actually stating anything but second hand disbelief that people would let these things go about. She takes a breath and releases it as she lets the idea of an armed marine Cylon walking around the ship ease into her reality. Will she take that side arm issued to flight officers around with her at all times? There is a faint shake of her head, "They let one do research?" Though she is distracted from this by the Doc's request, and a look of surprise rises on her features, and then it grows a little darker, "I.. I." She starts to stammer in confusion, "I would be worried about injuring you, Doctor.. And the otherside of that is that I am not at a sparring point. There is a mission. There is a mission, I cannot damage my hands or legs prior to combat." It would almost sound whimpy, but there is something about Brandy, her tone almost apologetic. "I must be at my best."

Toby points at Mahasti then shrugs to Brandy, "guess it's an academic one then." Then to the Doc, "they shouldn't have the privelledge of anything up a brief stay inside the airlock." He's not as worked up as he was initially, but there's definite conviction in his tone at that remark, confident he's right and that he's not the only one who holds that belief. He gestures towards the bag he'd been working on to indicate that the Doc is welcome to use it if she wishes, looking faintly amused at the thought of her kicking Luc. "I can try and go gentle on you Doc," he then offers, "but I generally go all or nothing, so no promises I'm afraid."

Mahasti hesitates a moment to stare at Brandy " You realize this is possibly a once in a life time opportunity where an officer is asking you 'Hey punch my face' and all, right?" she looks at Toby, confusion on her tawny features "Look, I just want to check and see if my workouts are paying off and if I got better. I'm a bit tougher than I look, I promise." she shrugs though, shrugging off her over jacket. "I appreciate the concern, I suppose." she mumbles, standing straight to rock her weight on her feet. "Unshocking that the only people that noticed that I took second in three of the four games are marines and likely only because I stood toe to toe with Winston in the spear throwing game "I don't think they should necessarily be destroyed if they desire a peaceful life. I just don't think they need to be here with us. Tamsim got Lleu all bit up by direwolves. Cunt." she looks agitated and uses rather hateful language and tone. "I've seen you down Winston, Toby dearest." she points out, thinking about it. "Let me think about it for a moment or two while I warm up?" she asks, taking a moment to focus herself, rolling her leg to kick the bag repeatedly, using her shins and knees as much for the quick kicks as her feet proper, she seems hellbent on beating up the bag. "I've been studying. Under Stone and Winston. I am never fucking up like I did all those weeks ago again." she states stubbornly.

"I am an officer, Doctor. Sure Ensign is a barely status in most opinions, mine generally included." Brandy states in a slightly deadpan tone, and looks the smaller woman over a bit closer. "I also did state, I cannot be injured. I wish I could assist, I truly do, Doctor. If you are good though you would find me as good as a pilot really needs to be. No contest, however, I am strong and fast, one mis-strike and I might injure you, not out of skill, but rather a lack of it. Thus the term, lucky punch. But, I am about to fly a very dangerous mission, and there will be another person on board. I cannot chance not being at my best for my ECO." No vanity, and a sincere tone to the apology. Certainly not your average pilot's bravado. "And for the record, based on my understanding, they should be placed in the most secure, transmission proof box we have, as airlocking them might just send all the information back to Toaster HQ. But I am not in charge." she says and looks to Toby, "But this would be what I was speaking about last time we talked, we have to prepare for living in a future where we can have an opinion does not conflict with the good morale and efficency of the forces."

Toby can't comment on the games, he wasn't there having volunteered to cover someone else's shifts in the hanger so they could attend instead, he does however smile just a little at the mention of him beating Winston. "Had to take him down fast," he explains, then admits, "wouldn't have lasted in an extended fight." He reckons he has a better chance against the Doc though and just steps back a half pace to give her a bit more room to work with. Then to Brandy he points a finger at her remark about a transmission proof box, acknowledging that she has a good point on that score. "We could then just pump all the air out of said box," he speculates, "assuming they need air that is." As for the options of the future he just smiles back and shrugs, "I spent the best part of 35 years not giving a damn about the morale or efficency of the forces, I'm sure I won't find it too hard to switch back once we're done with this war."

Mahasti eyes Brandy. "Obviously you don't understand how sparring works." is all Mahasti says. "I suppose so. I am a bit offended though. Nothing I could do to you or would do to you in a spar would have an effect on your mission." and that statement is accentuated with a rather firm kick from her other leg. "Skinjobs die just like us. They need oxygen, they need food, they need to piss, they sometimes even like to fuck." she comments, idly "Be more concise. Medical hates pilots who piss around and waste time." she cracks her neck "No face shots and try to remember that unlike skanky pilots I don't have padding to protect my ribs." she shifts to get a helmet, knuckle tape and gloves. She wraps her knuckles concisely "Sparring while a risk, is beneficial overall. It isn't like I need my job relies on my hands." that might explain why she's developed one hell of a kick. "I doubt I'll stay in service after the war. I'll be honest and say I'm not sure I'll persue a proper medical career after this." She pulls on her gloves, watching Toby "Shall we then?" she pauses "Winston is a big mean bastard, but, he's one of MY big mean bastard friends. You are my clever friend, Toby. Speaking of, I have some photos for you later from the games. The smoke packs were brilliant work."

Brandy stiffens up and straightens like a cadet on review at the words. Hands move to pull at her uniform, and she swallows faintly. "Please excuse me, enjoy your match, Crewman, Doctor." She comments and turns to stride over to take her jacket. It is slipped on and straightened with the same little tugs on the almost custom seeming tailored fit. Then she faces the exit and strides out of the room.

Toby glances between the ladies as the comments about sparring go back and forth but nods at the comment about the vulnrabilites of teh skinjobs, useful stuff to know that, even he really doesn;t want to even momentarilly think about them fucking. That's just plain wrong. As for the service he notes for he Doc's benefit, as she wasn't in the conversation a few days prior, "I joined cos it was the only way left to me to help kill the machines. I'll be out once that's done, military life is not a choice I ever envisioned taking. Despirite times though, as they say. He nods vaguely a the comment of photos, doing his best to fain interest but truth be told if he'd cared he'd have been there to see it himself. Brandy's departure means he gets no further than that though as he raises na eyrbrow and then tracks the pilot's departure before turning back to the Doc. "Doesn't look like you made a friend there," a pause as he thinks for a moment, "unless it was something I said?" He does't think it was, but he's prepared to leave the option out there in case.

Mahasti eyes Toby "I don't give a frak, I can't make anyone on this ship be my friend." she shrugs "Not my ensign, not my problem. I also wasn't issuing her orders. The implication that I would hurt her bad enough she couldn't do her mission is bloody frakking insulting." she offers to Toby, looking dead serious. "Spars are friendly and in good fun. You might bruise me but I'll be right as rain by tomorrow morning." she admits, sucking in air. "Perhaps I'm taking my anger out on her for the emotional wounding two other pilots gave me and she's not getting a fair shake. I'll reflect on it later and if necessary apologize, but more than likely I'll let it fade under the water's surface and forget it. You still want to go?"

"I think you might be," Toby replies, meaning Mahasti's comment about lashing out at one pilot due to the actions of others. "She's just concerned for her ECO and her bird, and personally, that's an attitude I'm happy to foster in pilots." Stuffing his hands back into his pockets he then shrugs, "she knows you wouldn't hurt her intentionally, but a bad hit to a finger and thats an easy break. Broken finger and she can't fly, or if she does she risks lives and equipment." He stops short of suggesting he Doc should go follow her and apologise, leaving that to Mahasti and her conscience, especially as she's alreayd said she'll reflect on it herself.

Mahasti since it looks like he isn't up to it, the equipment is taken off, and put up. "Wonderful." properly, to make sure everything is in its proper place. Since she didn't sweat it isn't wiped clean though. She soon enough takes out a note pad, writing something hastily down. Likely a notation that she did not get to work out. "I don't work again until oh six hundred.. I wonder if I took a sleeping pill if I could sleep until then." she mumbles "Unlikely in a friendly spar." she comments about the broken fingers. "I will do as my concious says. For now though I guess I'll go find something to do." the thin doctor closes the equipment cabinet, letting out an exasperated sound. "I treat people kindly, a majority of the time, and I am repaid with cruelty and indignities. I will be honest, it is under my skin that the Cylons get more kindness given to them than me. It also gets under my skin that a pilot has been implying I'm incompitent." she admits. "How many of the new folks has he verbally thrown that to." she offers, shrugging and starting for the door.

"Offer her a spar again when her mission is done," Toby calls after the departing Mahasti, "not sure what she's up against but she's sweating over it so it's likely big. She's being careful, thats all, it's no reflection on you." As for the rest, all he can do is shrug. Gien previous conersations he can guess which pilot is being refered to, but thats about it.

Mahasti turns "Well you turned me down too so there isn't much point in hanging out here." she quips. "I'm sure it isn't as big as she's making it out to be, the girl sweats Triad." she offers, shrugging "I guess I could go check out the handbook I was reading last night." she mumbles "Toby do you got a favorite food?" she asks after a moment.

"We just took out the fraking President Doc," Toby replies, soberly, "could be fraking anything but no matter what it'l be, it'll be dangerous. As I say, ask her again once she's back." He starts to turn away and go back to punching the bag himself but the abrupt change of topic causes him to turn back to Mahasti and raise an eyebrow questioningly. "What?" he asks, almost not sure he caught the question right, "yeah, but you won't find any of it out here. Not until we start importing more lifetock onto the planet."

Mahasti leans a bit "Any meat dish can be made with substitutions we DO have. The venison is quite good." she offers, "You really won't just tell me?" she asks, taking out a small container of hand cream to work into her cuticles quietly. Her foot tapping. "I guess I just won't cook you dinner at some point, even though it is something I enjoy doing?" she half asks, half states, looking up at the clock. "I won't speak ill of the dead man. I did not know him personally and can only say I didn't agree with his politics on most occassions." she admits, voice soft.

"He was a collaborator of the highest degree," Toby retorts, "even if I'd voted for him all my life I'd still not be unset that the trator is dead." No soft opinions there it seems. As for the food he just shrugs again, "you ever hard of churchill mountain oysters Doc? Ain't no substitution for them here, not yet. Give it time maybe."

Mahasti peers increduously "I .. don't want to cook that." she sort of blurts out, starring, face getting red "What if I told you I could get some real beef up here?" she asks, quietly. She fidgets her fingers a little "I actually could go the rest of my life without touching uh organ meat again. Then again I don't eat brains, liver, pancreas, or intestines either if I can help it." she admits, cheeks a little red.

Toby almost makes a comment about Mahasti obviously not haing grown up poor if she's so picky with which bits she eats, but given her apparent mood at the moment he refrains, not trusting it'd be taken in the spirit intended. "Missing out on a treat," is what he offers instead, before turning back to the bag once more.

Mahasti rubs her head "My mother used to make me eat liver, and I hated it." she sort of looks sheepish "I was a vegetarian for about seven years." she offers. He's seen her eat - she eats most of what gets set infront of her. In regards to her parents' wealth growing up - she's told him she went to private schools, taken non mandatory classes, traveled, and that they paid for her college leaving her with no debt despite her doctorette. "I don't like the texture of brains, its weirdly fashionable on Leonis." she rubs her hair. She watches him "I'll take your word for it." she mumbles, starting out again, intending to leave.

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