ALT #341: Misunderstandings
Summary: Quorra sets Toby straight about what she's doing with regards to settling the Minoans, and he returns the favour by explaining his words to Phin.
Date: 13/Dec/2013
Related Logs: References to On Refugees and Parties and Bouncing THings Up The Chain
Quorra Toby 
Checkpoint Charlie's - Piraeus
The first structure completed on Piraeus was a 'recreation center' that was thinly veiled as such. Checkpoint Charlie's is in every other way a blue collar bar with an unsurprising bent towards the military establishment. Camouflage netting hangs from the ceiling with some kind of dried vine tangled throughout. On the walls are pictures and mementos of times past on the planet they currently reside on. There are a few billiards tables smuggled out to Piraeus specifically for this location, along with card tables and an fully functional line of taps and kegs mounted to, perhaps unsurprisingly, a beat-up but taken-care-of oak bar. The matching stools and wood tables seem to indicate that the construction workers may have disassembled someone else's bar back on the Colonies. The story even goes that the name is taken from a former bar on Aerilon that happened to resemble, very closely, this particular establishment.
AWD #341

Quorra is dressed more like a deck hand than an officer - that's what happens when she has to go into the field. Undoubtedly there's a pin or something on her coveralls or winter coat the denote her rank. She sits perched upon a stool at the bar cradling a steaming cup of coffee between her hands while she reads a report in an open manila folder.

Toby is once more in his civies, either the same shirt and jeans as before, or he has a load of nigh-on identical clothes in his locker. It seems that he's spending a spot of free time looking for someone, or something, for as he enters he pauses just inside the door and scans the room quickly. Spotting either what he's looking for, or something else that'll do, he strides over towards the bar and leans his arms on it just shrt distance from Quorra, offering a quick, "Hey Lieutenant," in greeting.

Quorra's expression when she looks up and sees the deck hand is one of mild surprise. "Mr. Shackleton, hello." She takes a sip of coffee as she straightens. "How're you doing?"

"Not too bad thanks," Toby replies, waving off the silent question of if he wants a drink from the guy behind the bar, "keeping busy. You know how it is. Yourself?" There, small talk and basic social interaction, he can do it. He even leaves a brief pause before he starts on with what he apparently came to say. "Ended up working out next to Major Holtz yesterday and we got talking. He's offered to put a word in with the brass to get help with pre-fabs and stuff so the refugees aren't in tents over winter. Reckons if we don't have either here we might be able to go a-borrowin gfrom Picon."

The geologist listens attentively and mulls over what she hears a few moments before responding. "I have no experience with the state of affairs on Picon," she replies following a slow exhale. "So I have no idea what the situation there is. But what I do know is that I'm suspicious of there being a fault in this area. There's evidence of an earthquake that I haven't time to research yet - but my point is, whether tents or pre-fab buildings, just throwing them down anywhere worries me. The very reason I'm not making a focused effort on getting new housing up is because I'm not yet finished figuring out where it would be safe to do so."

Toby knows enough about basic geology to know what a fault is, and nods slowly as it's mentioned, thinking over what Quorra has just said, and what Holtz had said. "I've not seen winter here," he starts, "I didn't get out here until March or so, but I've heard tell of concerns of exposure and such. Now, I know I just fix raptors, dig ditches and fight fires, but isn't it better to et the pre-fabs done, even if they're just up for a few months?" Reaching to pull over a stool he perches on it, this not turning out to be the quick information dump he thought it might be. "Does that mean that there might be problems with Sheridan too?" he asks, taking her comment about the earthquake one step further. "Will we need to find somewhere new entirely?"

"I can't even begin to answer those sort of questions until I finish investigating and following the lines of inquiry I have open," Quorra answers with a look of apology. "Whether or not to go ahead and put down pre-fabs is not a decision that will be up to me. It will be up to the admiral, I'm sure."

Toby seems to accept that answer readily enough, or possibly he's just not going to argue with the expert. "Okay," he states simply, with a brief nod, then asks the obvious next question, "how long is that likely to take? Roughly I mean." Yeah, he knows hat it's like when someone asks him how long a bit of work is going to take when he hasn't yet found the underlying fault. Then, to the prefabs, "or whomever he deligates to down here. Got to say it Lieutenant, but I get the sneaking suspission that might end up being you. I mean, you're looking into it already right? Even if just at the planning stage. I think thats more than any other officer is."

Something flickers in the geologist's eyes and causes her to take pause. Quorra has another sip of coffee and then sets down the cup. "Do you have a problem with officers, Mr. Shackleton? I noticed the other day when I ran across you talking to Lt. McBride that you seemed to regularly make broad-sweeping digs about officers, suggested they were lazy and had interest in nothing but 'yelling at enlisted,' comments of that nature." A beat. "I know for a fact Lt.Col. Franklin cares about the refugees, *she* put the crisis on my radar. So I highly doubt that I'm the only officer looking into this."

Toby seems somewhat taken aback by that, and blinks briefly as he considers how best to make his reply. Starting off by straightening a little he then proceeds to a quick, "no Sir," best not be ambigous after all. "The remarks to the Lieutenant was just part of that standard banter back and forth between deck and wing, nothing serious was meant by it and they give back as good as they get." As for the others dealing with the Minoans he can only shrug slightly, "I'm not meaning to down play any others Lieutenant, but I mean, you're the one with your boots on the ground and all."

A faint smile appears on Quorra's face at the mention of boots on the ground. "I'm a planetary scientist, getting my hands dirty, being in the thick of things, that's what I do. But it doesn't mean I'm the only one involved." She reclaims her coffee and takes another sip before continuing, "It's not likely I will make wide-reaching decisions without the input of other officers. Not unless a crisis arises that absolutely demands I issue orders in order to save lives or something." She pauses again and then adds, "I'm not from Deck or Air Wing. I'm not 'cradle military.' I'm not even military at all in any true sense. I'm an academic in military clothing, because I felt a divine calling to take my skills into the Fleet and serve human kind that way rather than by staying at the university."

"Cradle military?" Toby asks, it not being a term he's heard before. "I wouldn't worry too much about your credentials though Lieutenant, there's some of us are only in to deal with the cylons, so you're more like proper military than me. I make no secret of the fact that once the war is done I'm out of here." He drops the point about what officers may or may not end up making the calls though, he still reckon sit'll be her, but has nothing of actual use or interest more to say on the matter.

"It's not about credentials," Quorra shakes her head. "My point is that I have no idea what is regular banter between Deck and Air Wing. If I hear things that sound negative said about officers, then I take them as negative because I have no other context in which to do so." A beat. "In any case, I take your word for it that you didn't mean anything by it so you're good with me."

"We have no officers," Toby starts, "they have no enlisted. So I guess it ends up being sort of inter-department banter." He a takes a moment's pause, then risks a quick joke, "that and they keep breaking our stuff." That misunderstanding seemingly cleared up he slides off the stool he'd claimed, "anyway Sir, I'd best let you get on. My money is on pre-fabs going up sharpish to prevent deaths from the cold though, and then moving them or hpefully making something more perminant as and when you've found out more. If you find, or hear anything though, would you let me know?"

"Who's your commanding officer, Mr. Shackleton?" asks the geologist. "You report to *someone*, who is it? I may not have grown up in the military like my husband did but I understand one things, which is the military is based on procedures and sticking by them. The proper thing for me to do is sit down with your commanding officer to discuss your desire to support me on this project."

"My commanding officer?" Toby repeats, sounding faintly urprised at the wuestion, "you mean the Master Chief?" Assuming thats a yes he gives the man's full title, "Master Chief Petty Officer Ariston Rembrant, he's Chief of Deck. Tends to be a busy man though so you might get one of the Senior Chief's instead, I dunno." He offers a vague shrug, not really having to have had to answer that particular query before.

"Rembrant," Quorra echoes. "Well, I'll start at the top and work my way down if need be," she nods. "Thank you, Mr. Shackleton. I'll be in touch with you as soon as I need support personnel for this project." She smiles and extends an arm in an offer to shake hands.

"No worries Lieutenant," Toby replies as he takes her hand. He's wearing his black gloves as per usual, but they don't get in the way of his manual dexterity so he doesn't take the appropriate one off first. "I don't reckon I'll be hard to track down as and when." That done he stick his hands back in his pockets and heads out once more.

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