AWD #193: Lets Not Kill the Whole Crew
Lets Not Kill the Whole Crew
Summary: Sera and Toby discuss safety issues relating to the war plans.
Date: 18/Jul/2013
Related Logs: None
Toby Sera 
Naval Enlisted Berthings, Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Housing a couple thousand naval personnel is never easy, but the fleet has managed for many decades. The enlisted barracks are divided up into sixty-bunk berthings and spread out across Deck Three. Each bunk has a small blue privacy curtain to keep out the light and prying eyes, but at least each individual has their own space. The drawers beneath each bunk and the lockers provide additional storage space. Between each stack of bunks is a single table that comprises a single section, each barracks holding five sections that are divided by thin bulkheads.
AWD #193

It's some nebulus time between breakfast and lunch so the berthings are relatively quite, with only the overnighters actually sleeping. One of those seemingly enjoying the quiet is Toby who's flaked out on his bunk making notes on various sheets of paper in front of him. With his pen in it's resting position behind one ear he takes a moment to rub a hand over his face to clear his eyes, taking instinctive care to avoid the bruised area of he left cheekbone as he does so. Then, setting the papers to one side he does a little bit of mental maths, glances back to one of his notes and mutters harshly to himself "well frak."

Sera's fresh from the gym. Well, the gym, then the showers. This is evidenced largely by the fact that her hair is still wet, her towel is tossed over her shoulder, and while one hand is carrying a basket of her toiletries, the other one is burdened with sweaty, wrinkled athletic clothing that she's likely going to shove into the bottom of her locker and forget about until it's laundry day. Hopefully, that's sooner rather than later.

Toby double checks the sheets, comes to exactly the same conclusion and then glances up to see who else is around, Dio first, then Sera. Seeing neither at their bunks he grumbles briefly and starts to push himself up so he can go hunting when he spots the incoming Sera. "Morning," he greets with a short nod, spotting the fact she has her hands full. "Not right-this-very-instance urgent, but I could do with a word when you have a chance Chief. Been looking into some of that chemical stuff." Lifting the sheet as if to prove he's been working he hauls himself into a seated position, "got a some of the info you wanted."

One of her dark brows hikes up, disappearing under a curtain of damp bangs — which means they're even longer than usual. "The first bit of information I want to know is what in the name of Twelve Olympians happened to your face, Shacks. You been fightin' again?," she drawls in that muck-thick Trojan accent. The sheet can wait a few minutes. He said as much himself.

Toby would probably class that as even less urgent, but not so much that he's going to make a fuss about it. "Disagreement with a marine," he states as if it's nothing, "he's since apologised." Or in other words, yes. There's also the appearance of a faintly satisfied expression for a moment, since he feels he got the best out of the encounter. Moving quickly on though he nudges the topic back to the work at hand, "anyway, I was looking into how much relevant PPE we have. Incase your plan gets approved."

She frowns, not bothering to make any effort whatsoever to hide it. The woman's never met a single Tauran that didn't have a temper. She has one herself. That doesn't mean it's good for the deck crew. "Let me guess. We don't have enough for everybody, 'cause that's always how this crap goes, right?" Her mouth presses together into a thin line. "How bad is it?"

"Not nearly," Toby replies solemnly, keeping his voice down a little even though he knows the lass who bunks above him is on shift. He notes the frown, but keeps on topic. "Actual gasmask wise, the marines all have one and there are some for their landing ships. If we add in the flight suits and the BA kits which can do the job temporarily we have a few more but not many. I can't tell you exactly how many in total, given the comings and goings within the fleet, but realistically we have enough for around a third of the crew."

The frown darkens as she reaches up and drags a hand through her wet hair. "Well, ideally, we're not going to have the entire crew needin' them. Not unless we screw up the storage, anyway. It ain't supposed to be deployed here, or from the Orion itself. It's supposed to be on the ground an' I can't think of any reason the entire crew would be grounded, so we could manage, I think, as long as we've got enough for the Marines an' the pilots goin' out with it."

"Ideally yeah," Toby replies with a nod. "Storage wise though "Ideally yeah," Toby replies with a nod. "Storage wise though we're going to need large tanks and a squad or so of jarheads to guard 'em. It's heavy as frak so whoever ends up with it is likely going to want to put it on a lower deck in an unventilated hold. That cuts the risks somewhat but still, I don't think I'd be sleeping sound if it ended up being stored here." His tone gives away that he's not kidding about that, "it'll be effective against the toasters, I don't doubt that, but I'm not going to be volunteering for any mission where we use it. Some of the medical info sheets were.. rather graphic in their descriptions."

The hand she's dragging through her hair ends up pulling it back, slowly, twisting it into a rope that drips onto the floor as she considers the possibilities. "Well, we do have a whole planet down there to store it on an', y'know, only one little bitty settlement to worry about keepin' clear of it. I'd be pretty unhappy if I ended up inadvertently killin' off a whole family of baby deer or somethin', but even more so if I ended up inadvertently killin' the crew. So."

"Find a huge frakking valley, dig a huge frakking hole at the bottom of it," Toby replies, "but we still got to move it at some point, hence lower decks and unventilated areas." Setting the sheets down on his shelf where he can reach them later if needs be he continues, "not exactly related, but similar I suppose. Was talking with one of the Docs and the topic of some joint drills came up. Make sure everyone knows what the frak everyone else is doing if everything goes to shit. Said I'd mention it to you, see what you thought."

"Drills for what, exactly?," she asks as she unceremoniously plunks her butt down on the bench laid out in front of the tables occupying the space between the rows of bunks. "The gas, you mean? Or just generalized safety drills for birds comin' in hot, with wounded crew and passengers?"

"Anything we're likely to come up against when we start frakking shit up on Picon," Toby replies "birds coming in hot, battle damage, fire, the gas, whatever. We know what we're doing, an' they know what they're doing, but there's that whole grey area in the middle. That and keeping things fresh helps just in general. I know everyone's been shown how to rig up, test and wear a BA kit, but it's damn easy to let the details slip even without everything going to hell around you."

"It's a good idea," she says, twisting that rope of hair up into a bun. It's not her usual style, which means while it doesn't necessarily look out of place, it's probably a bit distracting. Makes her look… different. "Which doctor were you talkin' to about runnin' the drills?," she asks, curiosity obviously piqued. She's a hardass about deck safety. Everyone knows it.

"The new one, Lieutenant Nasreen," Toby supplies with a faint nod at her assessment, "she was keen on the idea but I figured it needed running past you or The Chief before she took it any further." It's a topic he's quite keen on too, possibly not surprising given his specialisation. "I figure it's also a good excuse to test some of the systems we ain't used in a while. I've checked most of the equipment on the deck since I got here, but there should be a load of other pieces in the stores and such that I have no idea if anyone has had eyes on in months."

"Pull 'em out," she says, leaning back against the table, weight resting on her elbows. "Take a peak. If we can get people in 'em and tryin' 'em out, even better. I'll put the paperwork through to clear the drills on deck, but this El-Tee had best speak to the CMO about. That ain't our department an' I don't got no say there."

Toby replies with a shallow but definite nod. "Understood," he offers succinctly, "I'll dig out the inventories and get on it straight off." There's perhaps a hint of something akin to relief in his posture a moment now he has the okay and so far as the Docs are concerned? He gives that comment another nod, "I'll let her know you're agreeable, let her push things her end and see what Captain Nadir says." Starting to haul himself off his bunk he gives Sera a brief smile and a "thanks Chief."

There's a salute from her — given her elevated rank by comparison to Toby just coming off being the FNG, it's probably sarcastic. "You got it, Shacks. You need anythin' else?," she says, which includes a nod over towards the door. Y'know, where the Marines live across the hall.

Grabbing his shirt from his locker, Toby seems faintly amused by the salute but in truth his mind is already running through a likely list of what needs doing before he get down to the nitty-gritty. So much so that he doesn't even seem to mind that particular abbreviation for once. It's only in fact the final gesture that causes him to pause. Considering it briefly he then shakes his head once, "I'll let you know if that changes though."

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