AWD #047: Tar Babies and the Price of a CAG
Tar Babies and the Price of a CAG
Summary: Zachary and Moira discuss their differences of opinion on Picon while doing Laundry
Date: 23/02/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Foxes, Rabbits, and Snakes Moira's Recommendation Zachary's Recommendation
Rozzen Zachary 
Laundry - Deck 2 - Battlestar Orion
Aboard a battlestar everyone except Command Staff does their own laundry, from ranking officers down to the lowest enlisted. This is one of many rooms just like this throughout the ship, and each one is nearly identical. There are baskets for holding clothes when they are pulled from the dryer and long tables for folding that run down the center of the room. Chairs sit along one wall and some magazines are stacked on a small book shelf near the door.
23 February 2005

While it's common enough for someone to be doing laundry at all hours, tonight happens to be a rather quiet night. There's the steady hum as a couple of loads turn over in driers at the back corner of the room. Someone's left a couple of magazines strewn over one of the central tables. Moira doesn't seem to be involved with either of these things, however. She sits across from where some linens are folded into crisp squares. A boot is pulled on over one of her hands and she buffs at it's already gleaming leather with an almost meditative sort of absence.

Even the brass has to do laundry on occassion. Arriving in the laundry with a bag of his clothes slung over his shoulder, Zachary goes to secure a couple of washers for himself - which is the best part about the late hour, it gives one the chance to use extra machines. As he starts to sort the clothes, he notices he's not alone and gives a glance over. "Evening, Moira." he greets the Captain as he works on tossing clothes into two seperate piles. "How's my second favorite rabbit?" he asks playfully.

Rozzen looks up as the motion of someone entering catches at the edge of her vision. She pulls up straight in her chair, out of the lean of her forearms upon her knees. It takes a blink for the distance to leave her eyes. "Good evening, Major," she returns with easy warmth. That question, though, it sends one corner of her mouth quirking upward. "I suppose I ought to be grateful that we don't use callsigns in Tactical. Do I need to ask who is your first favorite?" she also wondered with a tilted look that returns his banter.

"We're off duty, you can call me Zachary if you want, Captain. Unless calling you Moira is somehow offensive?" Zachary offers as he finishes loading his laundry. Starting the machine, he moves to comes over, and gestures to a nearby chair. "May I?" he asks, before he addresses the last question. "There's a stuffed bunny on my desk in the office. He's my current favorite." he says with a grin. "So I read your proposal. And your coordination memo. Spoke with Geni on it earlier today, too."

"I'm not quite so easily offended," Moira answers with a further slide of her smile. She absently bats at her boot a few more times, but a glance down seems to satisfy her as to its polish. Thus she lets it slip to the floor beside her as she welcomes Zachary to the adjacent chair with a nod. "Please." Her posture shifts slightly towards him, ankles crossing lightly under her seat as her brows lift slightly over the stuffed toy. And there they remain, for the moment. "And what did the Chaplain have to say?" she is curious.

"About the same you did, except she mentioned that Spree wants to send a spy up to report back that we're legit. I'm telling you, Moira. The trust we're getting from Picon - totally not restoring my faith in humanity." Zachary admits as he settles into the chair and takes out a book to read on first-time fatherhood.

"Mm. I wasn't there for that part of the discussion," Moira admits. There's an academic sort of inquisitiveness to the look she tilts upon the Major, taking in his book, even as her smile plays privately about her lips. "Do you really find it so surprising? What would you do differently in their place, if a Raptor appeared and her crew asked to take the people under your protection away? What would you say of being trusting, to those ships on Hibernia when they saw people arrive outside their landing zone?"

"There was noone there to be trusting to, Moira. They were gone when we got there, and maybe, if we had arrived sooner, we could have saved them." Zachary points out as he remains ensconced in his book. "You ever hear tar baby?" he asks. "It was a story I was told when I was young. There was this baby made of tar. And when someone tried to rescue it, they'd get stuck. And the more they got stuck, the more they struggled. And as they struggled more, the tar baby, it would take him deeper and deeper until there was no escape." he explains. "Picon is currently our tar baby. At least while Bancroft is there. What happens when he learns we're supporting Spree and not him. We need him out of there, Moira. He's too much of a factor to leave in play."

"I'm talking about the log," Moira clarifies with a little shake of her head. "The armed man and woman who appeared in the field the ships had gathered upon. These aren't the times for blind trust." She settles herself in with a long breath to listen to his reconting of the story, though it doesn't seem to be one that's completely unfamiliar to her. "But we're not stuck," she contends. "I do not think his is a situation to take lightly," granted. "And yet Picon is hardly our only concern. What of Aerilon? What more have we learned of Scorpia? Of Aquaria? We haven't been back to Caprica, and we have good reason to believe, based on your own mission, that there are scientists who could be huge assets here on Piraeus in need of rescue from Pallas. I disagree that he's that great of a factor. A factor, surely, but not one that requires our immediate and risky dedication of our resources. He may be a snake, but he's no longer hidden in the grass from us."

"Do you think I'm not aware of any of that? Of all of that?" Zachary's voice becomes agitated as he studies the woman. "Why not the prisons on Leonis. The chance to save that which waits for us on Virgon. There's fifty million missions out there and I'm having to decide daily which ones are priority and which ones can wait. And for each one that waits, there is a price to pay. Whether it's a few more deaths or hundreds of people that could be saved suddenly disappearing never to be found again. I understand wholly what this means, Moira. I have to deal with that every day. As does Jameson." he lets out a breath. "We're only one task force that's doing the best we can with what we have. As far as not a threat — he has four times the personnel that Spree does. Even with our firepower, she won't last a month if she tries to press back. We need to crush his command and let Spree take over, or there is no point. Do we let the snake stay in the grass until it bites us again, or chop it's head off while it's looking right at us?"

Rozzen is quiet under his study, granting him her composed attention. She's quiet for moments after, letting his words settle. Her hands adjust slightly where they've fallen loosely into her lap, a palm turning up with a graceful spread of fingers. "But this is not a matter of his four-fold forces pitted against hers and ours, or ours, in a vacuum. He has not moved against Spree. If he does, that changes the situation in the eyes of the men and women upon Picon. Right now they do not have much cause to trust us. Which is why I believe it is a better option to act in concert with the Colonel instead of attempting to rapidly mount our own mission hoping for surprise. For all we know, she has already had further communication with them that has tipped the hand you're trying to play. And truly, I do not like the equation of putting you at risk on the chance that he is trusting enough to follow along to where we can capture him." A furrow has picked up between her brows, a touch of worry.

Zachary offers a smile, genuine for a moment. "CAGs are a cubit a dozen, Moira. I'm the fourth one since this mission started." he points out as he nods. "I had considered that as well, which is why I'm taking out jumpers to the planet to assist the search teams - it will help Marcus to see a friendly face in the groups." he points out. "and it will give me the chance to feel out how much information Spree may have shared and then bait the trap properly."

Rozzen doesn't seem to take that first point quite as he sets it. That hint of worry doesn't leave the shape of her brow, though perhaps it modulates to something a little more gently fond. She takes a long breath, weight shifting back a fraction in resignation. "So the Admiral has given you his decision," she gathers. It's almost tangential, when she continues. "We can only count the resources we actually have at hand. You're the fourth CAG we've had since this mission started." The way she says it gives it an alternate meaning. "You asked me a question once. I'll ask you: what is easier to replace? A Raptor, a CAG, or a planet?"

Zachary's expression flattens for a moment as she so tactfully throws his own words in his face and his own smile slips fond as he gives her knee a gentle pat. "A CAG, as I said, we're a cubit a dozen." he winks. "And no, no decision from the Admiral yet. He's still chewing on the proposals. I just want our people on the ground to help find our lost sheep." he says as he looks up to study her eyes for the longest of moments.

There's rue in the twist of her lips and Moira gives a small shake of disagreement for his answer. Her dark eyes meet his study, calm and quiet and a touch distant with their constant thoughts. "You're a good man, Zachary," is what she finally chooses to say. "I do hope they are found." Her smile twitches slightly and her eyes drop away, finding where her boots have fallen so she can pick them up. "In all the wide universe, there are many planets. I can't say I was ever particularly fond of any one of them." And yet, there's a decided drag of sadness cast over her features. "I should get to bed. I expect rest will be little enough in coming in the days ahead."

The last few days have taken a terrible toll on the CAG. Hell, since War Day, he's been under that constant pressure. Zachary offers a smile towards Rozzen and chuckles. "Those are a cubit a dozen too." he says ruefully as he moves to help her pick up her boots. "..planets are hard things to understand, but when you get to studying them, you learn that they're are those that are worth working with and those that deserved to be help. They all do.. it's just hard to accept which ones they are." he quietly comments. "..sleep well, Moira." There may be more, but it's not given voice. "…I rarely get any rest." Indeed, while she gets to retreat with her clothes. Finally, as he hands her the boot, he presses a light and friendly kiss to her cheek. Perhaps not by the book, but. "You're a good woman, Moira. I know we disagree, but it's good to know that we can work together.

Dark eyes slant back towards Zachary as she listens to his quiet words, an eyebrow shifted fractionally upward. Focused on collecting her boots with his help, she's not expecting the brush to her cheek. Moira's flinch is thus a little belated but no less sharp, turning her chin more fully towards him as she searchs his features. The quick stringing of tension in her shoulders unwinds more gradually than it appeared. "Of course, Major. Echo chambers develop blind spots. It's always good to share different points of view." She fades towards the table where her linens are folded as she speaks. "I can only imagine you'll get less rest when you're the father of an actual infant," the easier curve of a smile has made it back to her features as she nods towards her book. "Thank you, Zachary. Have a good night." She then turns to retreat to her rack with her clean laundry and her boots, their leather shiny and their soles absent of any remaining traces of Picon's dust.

"Yes, I think Eden may murder me more for that when she realizes how little I am home with the family." Zachary sighs as he takes back his book from her, and watches her shuffle off, as he goes back to reading his book and settles back to listen to the washer run, left alone to his thoughts again.

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