AWD #205: Good News For Once
Good News For Once
Summary: Sera's anti-centurion plan gets a long awaited boost.
Date: 30/Jul/2013
Related Logs: Some. Not sure which specifically.
Toby Sera 
Hangar Bay, Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Each hangar deck is divided into five one-hundred yard sections, each divided from the others by massive blast doors that close vertically from the floor and overhead. Each hangar section houses all of the Vipers, Raptors, and Predators that the wing operates as well as the vital work areas to support and maintain these fighting platforms. Each bay is large enough to accommodate one of these frames and still get heavy work done, though the fore- and aft-most sections are dedicated to overhauls and major work to be done. The bays along the center section are located across from launch tubes and elevators in order to provide scramble and Alert-Five capabilities. The second-to-aft bay provides major elevator and transport access to the starboard bay as well as the major manufacturing facility. Due to the nature of the work, the hangar decks are major hubs of activity at all hours of the day and all but four hours overnight.
30/Jul/2005

It's always busy in the hanger bay, with techs working, chatting and otherwise making noise. Now seems to be no different, with most of the effort seemingly concentrating on a predator that's developed a new and apparently fascinating fault that seems to have attracted the attention of many of the senior knuckledraggers. Away from the scratching of senior heads though it seems to be tylium tea o'clock while techs pass the time waiting for things to be signed off by their supervisors. One such is Toby who's waiting to grab one of the PO1s. Looks like he hasn't been waiting long though, that or he's had time for a refill.

Enter Sera, stage left. Though the Predator seems to have caught the attention of the majority of her fellow senior NCOs, her eyes are turned elsewhere. Specifically, her baby browns are turned to a piece of hexagonal paper she's carrying her hands, bearing the distinct seal of the Battlestar Orion. Official correspondence, then. No wonder she's barely given a glance down to the other end of the deck.

As a CPO turns away from the stricken bird, the other deckie that Toby has been idly chatting to takes his opportunity to get a word in and goes to intercept. Being thus left alone, Toby peers over to reassure himself that his target is still on his back under the machine then takes another mouthful of tea and glances round the rest of the hanger to see what else is going on. The newly arrived Sera gets a nod before he notes that she's intent on the paper in her hand, at which point he offers a curious, "good read?"

"Good news, at least," Sera replies distractedly, muttering under her breath, "For once." The motions of making herself a cup of coffee are automatic — automated, even, like someone set an assembly line into motion. She doesn't even bother looking up from her paper. Although the note is short, she reads it twice more, just to be quite certain she hasn't misunderstood anything.

Toby catches the mutter but says nothing, choosing to take another mouthful of drink instead. He remains quiet as Sera equips herself with a drink, seemingly content enough to wait until she's finished with that task before inquiring, "the anti-sabre site plan, the anti-centurion plan or something else?" They're the main things that went to the high-ups that he can think of.

"They've finally found a programmer," she says before folding her message up into thirds and tucking it neatly into the pocket of her green fatigues — something which requires a bit of effort, to get her hand in past those hideous orange coveralls. "Meanin' maybe all the work I've been doin' in that makeshift lab won't go to waste."

"Programmer?" Toby asks, raising an eyebrow in a questioning manner. More tea is slurped, although it seems to still be a little too hot to drink properly. Shifting up a bit so there's space for Sera to sit if she wishes he leans his head back against the bulkhead and looks over at her, "which work would that be then?"

"The Centurion project," she replies, before finally wrapping her grease-stained hands around her finished cup. She's grateful for the warmth, that much is obvious. Her fingers clasp the ceramic tightly, leeching up its heat. Somehow, the climate-controlled battlestar is never quite at a temperature where she feels comfortable.

Toby has a think for a moment but isn't sure he can figure out where a programmer might come in useful given what he knows of the project. Seemingly content to take her word for it though he gives a nod in acknowledgment, "that's good then. It anyone we know, or someone new pulled from somewhere?"

"It's someone new — a petty off picked by intelligence and cleared for addin' to the project," she says with a slight grimace. She's not particularly thrilled with the idea of dealing with the spooks upstairs, but given the alternatives, it's a bitter pill she's just going to have to swallow.

"He gives you any hassle, me and Dio will kick him into shape for you," Toby offers with a wry smile, "just give us the nod." His tea seems to have cooled a bit now and he takes a proper drink from the mug before resting it on his knee. "So whats next then? Wait and see what he, or she, comes up with?

"He, as far as I know," she says, sinking down into an empty seat. "An' yeah, basically. I mean, sure, I can rip the damned things apart an' put 'em back together again just fine, at this point. Don't mean I know a damned thing about how their brains work." There's a hint of relief in her voice as she says that; something about the Cylons, the Centurions in particular, makes her glad she ''doesn't'' understand their brains.

The moment when Toby realises the import of a programmer is the same moment that Sera mentions the toaster's brains, although he tries not to make that too blindingly obvious. "Me neither," he offers, certain that that will come as no surprise to anyone, "here's hoping though." He lifts his mug at that, in a vague toast, before draining what's left of it and then looking to check and see if there has been any progress on the Predator. Turning back he then pushes himself to his feet and gets a refill, "you ready for another?"

There's a gentle shake of her head. It makes her ponytail sway lazily from side to side. "Naw, not just yet." There's a frown that drags the edges of her mouth down as she looks into her cup. Obviously, the letter and all the possibilities it contains is an awful distraction, especially after months of waiting.

Toby makes just the one and then moves to retake his seat, his now being too hot once more he cradles the mug much as Sera had before. "I take it we're still waiting to hear back on the other stuff?" he asks conversationally, "although I suppose if they're cleared the programmer issue then maybe there'll be progress elsewhere now. One in, one out and all that."

"I hope so," she says, reaching up to brush her bangs back out of her eyes. It's a futile gesture. They just fall right back into place regardless of what she does, much to her annoyance, which is evidenced by a cross-eyed glare up at them. "They said we'd be hittin' Picon in August. An' it's almost August. An' I wanted all this ready to go by then."

"Shame that taking your deckboots to the arse of the brass tends to land you in the brig," Toby replies with an understanding nod. "Maybe we should all put in to go officer, approve the damn thing ourselves then find a way to get ourselves kicked back to the ranks again so we can then do it. Might be quicker." The Predator is given another glance, but apparently the mystery is not yet solved and so another idea inserts itself into his mind. Picking up the clipboard that's been resting on the floor by his feet he waves it vaguely in Sera's direction, "you mind signing this lot off so I can get on with some proper work once I've finished my brew. Get the feeling I might be waiting all shift otherwise."

Sera blinks a few times, then starts to laugh — that same warm, infectious laughter she tends to spread around the rec, the mess, and the berths whenever she finds something funny and just can't quite keep it to herself. "I don't know which'd be worse — waitin' for them to get on it, or havin' a steel rod permanently wedged in my butt," she quips, even as she's reaching for the clipboard. A few cursory turns through the pages. She trusts Toby, but she also tends to be thorough.

It's not particularly interesting reading, if truth be told, but Toby keeps quiet for a bit so as not to distract Sera as she goes through it. Then, after pretending to think through the options for a bit he shrugs, "I dunno, there's got to be someone who enjoys that sort of thing. Get them promoted instead ad just make sure they don't forget the reason behind it in their euphoria?" Another sip of tea occurs before he shrugs again, "got to admit I'll be glad when we do start hitting Picon, feels like we've been doing sod all for far too long."

"You ain't the only one," she mumbles before pulling a pen out of her pocket and scribbling her signature along the bottom of several of the pages. "On the one hand, yeah, we got ourselves a nice, safe place. An' given how the Colonies went, I'm grateful for it. But it feels like we're hidin'."

"If I'd wanted to sit in a nice safe place I'd have stayed downbelow," Toby replies, pointing through the deckplating to indicate the planet below (which may or may not actually be below given the three dimensional nature of space. "Not so easy to defeat those frakkers if we're just sat twiddling our thumbs. Still, it's August soon so I guess we'll just have to wait and see what them-up-there come up with us to do."

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