ALT #388: Look For Somethin' Small
Look For Somethin' Small
Summary: Two techs, one exploded room.
Date: 29/Jan/2014
Related Logs: Burning Wings
Toby Sera 
Flight Simulators - Deck 2 - Battlestar Orion
The Air Wing has access to flight simulators to train pilots off the ground in combat maneuvers and situations that are hard to replicate with regular dogfight practicing and this is their home. A rectangular room, the hatch opens up beside the bank of computers that control the simulations and what is seen by the individuals when training sessions are in progress. The sims are actual cockpits cut out of old frames and installed here to function exactly as the real thing, right down to oxygen plugs for suits. In front of each cockpit, complete with armored glass, are LCD screens that cover most of the front view to the front and above. There are two Vipers, two Predators, and one full-cabin Raptor available.
AWD #388

Unlike on a normal day, the simulator room now seems to be crowded with MPs and deckies, rather than pilots and sim techs. There's a marine demolitions expert too, but people seem to be more inclinded to give them room, just in case. Tob's not sure if he's landed the job due to luck of the draw, because someone wants him up here, or because someone doesn't want him on deck, but for now he's concentrating on the task at hand which in his case is the O2 supply. Pure O2, that helps things go boom. For now, he's checking one of the craft that only took shrapnel damage, it's been declared safe by the explosives guy, but he's being carefully anyway. Today though he's adding less to the admitedly subdued small talk of the room, sore throat and all that.

Orange coveralls. Nothing flatters a lady quite like baggy, oversized, neon orange coveralls complete with rubber pockets and a tool belt dragging around her waist, huh? CPO Rutlii slips into the sims with a dark frown and a few dark smudges on her face to match, considering the wreckage with narrowed eyes before she begins anywhere. Boots thud quietly on the deck as she picks her way through larger chunks of what had been this or that, and she shoots a quick upnod to a few of the MPs she knows from her days hanging out far too much in Marine country.

Nothing quite flatters a guy like hanging half out of a cockpit, arse in the air, as he tires to remove a stubborn panel in the flooring to check at the workings beneath. Looks like everyone is going to have to work hard to keep their minds on the task at hand today. Or maybe not. The panel gives eventually though and Toby sticks his head back up into the open air to make a note of its removal in the incident log before lifting it up to the light to peer at the underside for a few moments to check all is well. It seems to be, so he turns to set it aside and in ding so spots Sera's arrival. "Chief," he offers succinctly, voice still a little raspy, "any news?"

"D'you mean do I have any news for you from my reports, or d'you mean have I heard anythin' on the wind about what might be goin' on?," she says, turning towards him from where she was about to crawl into the mockpit of one of the Vipers. A brow arches mildly at the bruise on his throat, particularly in reference to whether or not she's heard any gossip. But hey, he doesn't report in through her, so she's not going to get all worked up about it. Instead she just smirks knowingly. Surely, he went and rattled off to the wrong person.

"Either," Toby replies with a shrug, keeping his answers short, "both." He notes he smirk though and just rolls his eyes, he's been getting them a lot today, then holds up the back of his hands briefly to prove that they're fine. "Not found much here," he offers glancing briefly into the cockpit of his assigned craft, "guess not all rigged to blow."

"Well," she says, as she clambers up into what's left of the pilot's seat and begins prying open the control panel, "it ain't like these are actual frames, y'know? No tylium tank back their to catch, no missiles to mess with to make a bigger boom. Far as I can tell, an' from what I heard about who's been in medical with what? Best way to cause damage was the shrapnel, not makin' a fireball down here. Least, if your goal was killin' folks instead of blastin' a whole in the hull. An' that'd take way more to punch through, don'tcha think?"

Toby follows Sera's lead and sticks his head back inside to take a look at the componants he exposed earlier. "Fraking hope so," he mutters to the remark about the hull, but the rest has him thinking as he works. "Grenade?" he suggests, hoping he's not too muffled by being in the cockpit, then sticks his head back up and looks at her quizically as a potential flow in that idea hits him, "can you put them on timers? Reckon some have said if this was like the Rabul."

Sera's lips press into a thin line at the mention of the Rubaul. "Don't rightly know," she replies, tersely, trying not to raise her voice too much. There are, after all, MPs well within hearing range and she knows exactly how tight the jarheads stick together. "Ain't my area of expertise. But if it is like the Rubaul, then I know who they oughta be lookin' for." The words, however quiet they may be, are muttered with obvious disdain.

Toby notes the level of Sera's voice, pauses, thinks, notes the marines then gives a short, slow nod. Lifting up the panel he's removed, as well as the logbook he shifts over to the viper Sera has, just as if he were looking for a second opinion on something. Leaning against what little of the fuselage he can he glances up towards her and notes, quietly, "half the fraking ship knows who they ought to be looking for Chief. Ain't seen 'em around the corridors much of late though. Frak, one Lieutenant ssaid they might have been taken somewhere else for protection from us. I mean, what the frak."

"Well, it ain't exactly like there's a shortage of people aboard that'd already have been happy to go an' put one right between the eyes on 'em, is there?," she says, dryly — like there's the taste of bitter ashes in her mouth. "'Course, plenty of people from up on high made sure that didn't happen, whatever it meant for all the rest of us." Sera has not, it seems, forgotten select conversations she's had with certain individuals. "Can't imagine anyone's feelin' particularly sentimental about 'em now, so… it makes sense. Even if it stinks worse'n the head at Charlie's on Sunday mornin'."

"Prefer to nail 'em to the outside of the hull," Toby states, flicking a glance to the nearest MPs as he does so, "shootings too good for 'em." Folding his arms across his chest he grunts at Sera's logic, he sort of agrees, or would do if he could bring himself to consider the possibility that there's any reason not to kill a cylon. So in all, it's just a grunt before he gets back to the actual business at hand. "McBride reckoned two explosions, not seen anything to say he's wrong. You?"

Sera shakes her head in reply. "Definitely two explosions. Two systems ain't really connected all that much, save for the data feed back an' forth between the computer and the mockpits control units. See?," she says, pointing to what's left of cords snaking across the floor. "Ain't even got the same power supply. If it was somethin' overloadin' the system, they would've shorted out, I expect, but not both gone up like that. Not within' takin' out power to the room an' to some nearby areas of the ship."

Toby can't really claim to know the set up in here well, but he looks, listens and nods as it's explained, "got you." Glance back to the other cockpits and he shrugs, "'but all I can say so far is it aint someone forgetting to disarm the ejectors, which I reckon everyone knew already. Nor have I seen any O2 tampering, but as you said before, shrapnel, not fireballs."

"Look for somethin' small," she says, her brows knotting together. "I mean, it ain't — least the way I heard it — like they walked in an' it exploded. The way I heard it, they were in the middle of the sim when it happened, which means they all had to be in their seats for awhile… without noticin' it." There's a beat, and a smile… though it's forced. Usually, when Sera smiles it lights up her face and when she laughs, it lights up the whole room. Not this time. "I mean, sure, pilots may be thick as bricks, but the only thing makes 'em worthwhile is their eyes, right?"

Taking a moment to eye what appear to be the two seats of the explosions, Toby listens in silence as Sera talks. He's heard the same thing about hte timing of events, so gives a low nod as his eyes the damage in the hope that something will leap out at him before he turns back to the Chief. "Small, yeah, no fuselage to hide anything in." Lifting a hand to rub at his chin briefly he asks, "they had comms going right? Telemetry? That shit recorded?" He glances over to the control computers. "Reckon we migth have more look going over the readouts than trying to pick this lot appart. Compare 'em to the others, or previous flights, look for differences, case whatever it as was interfering somehow, or waiting for a signal."

Sera says, "Well, with the hole they went an' blew in the computer, I don't know if there will be any readouts left, what kind of condition they'll be in. But it's a place to look, maybe," she says, peeking her head out of the "Viper" to flag down an MP. Or, rather, the demo guy they've got on hand. She jerks her thumb over to the console at him, y'know, just in case a Marine who plays with explosives all day doesn't know what fancy words like 'computer' actually mean. "You got a sec to run through that?," she calls out, over Toby's shoulder. Or, rather, around it. He's considerably larger than she is.

"Worth checking I reckon, even so," Toby replies with a shrug, "might show a few things we don't need to check at least." He glances to the marine as they start to move, but lets Sera's pips do the talking as he turns back to the bird he had been working out. "I'll go stick this panel back in, log it as clean then take a look once he's declared it safe. Will give a ye.. will let you know if I spot anything odd."

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