AWD #077: That Special CMC Touch
That Special CMC Touch
Summary: Sera visits the recovering Fischer to check if he can help with something.
Date: 24/03/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Not sure. Probably something when it comes to that project thing.
Sera Fischer 
Recovery Ward
About half the size of the Medical Center, the Recovery Ward has fewer beds to allow space for those who are going through recovery. Rather than the drab gray of most of the center, the walls in here have been done in a neutral creme color. The beds are a little thicker and the blankets are actually present. There are a few clocks and the only other decoration are a couple of flatscreens that show muted movies from the ship's library. A couple stacks of old magazines are available near the door for nurses to pass around, too.
AWD #77

Seriously, the hospital staff must hate Sera. When the girl is fresh off a shift, it's like having Pigpen roll through — there's grease and oil and exhaust and grime on her coveralls and her boots and her face. She's washed her hands, at least. That's a start. And the cigarette that's pinched between her lips currently remains unlit. So she should be fine, so long as she doesn't actually touch anything in sick bay. She's also staring back over her shoulder at the hatch she just came through, wearing a minorly discomforted expression. "Weirdos," she mutters under her breath.

Although his hand has nearly healed up again after that last little trip to Picon, Fischer has been staying in the Recovery ward in between times of light duty, just in case. After all, it's not the first time lately that hand has been wounded in a short time. Sitting on one of the beds, he looks up as Sera enters, pausing for a few moments now. "Weirdos?" he repeats, sounding a bit curious.

"Yeah. I just had half of sickbay stop dead and start starin' at me as I walked through, an' some doctor that just about hyperventilated or somethin'." Her brows are knit together, forming a wrinkle between them, right above her nose. The 'WTF?' is written all over her face. "Fischer, right? I mean, I don't think we ever met. Officially, anyway. Just got shot at by some tin-cans together."

Fischer nods a bit as he hears that, "Ah, I think I know what doctor you mean," he replies, a bit lightly. Nodding again for a few moments now. "Fischer, yes. Corporal Edward Fischer. A pleasure to officially meet you," he offers, with a bit of a smile.

"I'll excuse you for not shakin' my hand," she says with a smile and a bit of humor in her voice — dry, not mean. But, well. Still. She returns the smile easily. It's the catching sort, one of those easy expression that just spreads around the whole room, one face at a time. "Petty Officer First Class Seraphina J. Rutlii. Most folks call me Sera Jane, though. Or just Sera. You holdin' up alright in here? I got my ass out ASAP, even with the rads."

Fischer smiles, "Well, I got out of here fast enough, but then ended up back in here. The tin-cans seem to hate my left hand more than any other," he remarks, rather lightly. "How can I help you today, Sera?" Studying her for a few moments now.

Considering her walk through sickbay, being stared at throws her off her game, if only for a few seconds. "Do I have somethin' on my face or somethin'?", she asks. She does. She totally does. There's a couple of smears of black… stuff across her checks and her nose. Tylium fuel, maybe. Or oil. She clearly just got off her shift. The coveralls should've been evidence enough of that, though all the stains probably help. She's soon looking around for a reflective surface in which to examine herself, head twisting this way and that. "Yeah. Uhhh. On that Raptor, on our way out to Helios Beta. You said you'd be willin' to give somethin' I'm workin' on that special CMC touch? An' by that, I mean shootin' some stuff."

"Ah," Fischer offers after a few moments, before he nods a little as he hears that. "I remember. Yes, if you still need someone to do that shooting, I'll be happy to help," he offers. A brief pause as he looks to his hand again. "I think they'll want me to wait a couple days first, though."

"It's really more a side project than anythin' else, honestly," she says with a sudden frown. "Which is a shame, considerin' the whole point of what I'm workin' on. I can't go pullin' people off-duty from the Deck or the Marines without say-so from their DH's or somebody big from the CIC, so it's been slow-goin', anyway. If you've got some time to spare, though, an' can keep your cool in the face of some toasters? I'll put the papers in askin'. I just got to know you're not goin' to go unloadin' some totally justified but also totally not helpful rage on my models."

Nodding a bit at the part of keeping cool in the face of some toasters Fischer offers a bit of a grin, "I'm sure I can keep cool, especially if they don't shoot back at me," he offers, after a few moments of pause. "That tends to anger a bit, after all."

There's a laugh, which she tries to swallow down. As a result, it ends up coming out as this choked half-snort, which is just super attractive. "Naw, they're about as close to bein' corpses as a machine can be, considerin' they weren't ever really "alive" to begin with, y'know? I just… don't want someone goin' all PTSD rage-out on them before I can figure out how they work, y'know? I mean, part of the point is figurin' out how to effectively mow the frakkers down, but it wouldn't really help for you to just go ahead an' do that without lettin' me test or measure anythin'."

"Good, if I'd end up getting shot again, right after having gotten better, Chase… Corporal Baca, that is, would probably shoot me herself," Fischer notes, although he speaks a bit lightly, before he grins at the last part. "Makes some sense," he replies, with a bit of a nod now.

"Hey," she says, putting both hands up. "I ain't a fan of bein' shot, either. So I'm not about let these things sit there all loaded up, ready to fire back at us. An' ain't about to get in the middle of some lovey-dovey CMC shootin' war. I've dated a couple of you boys. I hear that's how you an' your women flirt."

Fischer nods, with a momentary smile. "Don't worry about that," he replies, after a few moments, before he nods a little bit. "So, what kind of shooting is it you need? Just the normal fire a rifle at it kind?"

Sera nods once, sharply. It makes her ponytail bob in this ridiculous, adolescent way that totally contradicts the sudden seriousness of the conversation. "I need somebody with combat experience — preferably someone with combat experience against the Centurions. More than I have, at least. I've got a couple of theories about where to nail them to inflict the maximum amount of damage, but I've got to test it first. An' if I'm wrong, havin' someone who has taken some down to give some input would help."

"I can help you there," Fischer replies, nodding again. "Got the combat experience, and I've taken down a few of them, after all." It's offered after a few moments. "As soon as I'm no longer stuck on this light duty thing, I'll help. Finding better ways to get them downed is a good thing."

"I'm hopin' that it'll save some lives. As it is, I already found out about that sneaky shit those bastards are pullin' with their ammo an' passed the word to the officers upstairs at the CMC. I'm hopin' they passed the word around to you guys," she says, rolling her cigarette between her lips, until it's tucked over into one corner of her mouth.

Fischer pauses for a few moments as he hears that, "The sneaky shit…" Sounding like he's trying to remember what that was. "But yes, saving lives would be a good thing." He looks thoughtful for a few moments. "Both those of us here, and those back home…"

She blinks a few times, lashes fluttering rapidly. "….Didn't anyone send down orders to scrap any Centurion ammunition you guy come across on the ground? It looks like it fits in some of the standard issue rifles used by the CMC, but it's slightly oversized. You tryin' firin' it an' your gun'll jam. Be lucky you don't blow your hand clear off."

"Now that you mentioned it, I remember the lieutenant mentioning it during the last op on Picon," Fischer replies, a bit thoughtfully. "So the orders have come, it seems. Smart tactics by the tin cans, though. Most people would probably not think of it, and end up in deep shit…"

"That seems to be the idea. Our rounds are smaller than theirs, but only slightly. Which means anythin' you guys leave on the ground? They can fire just fine. We try the same idea, without actually measurin' it? Huge mistake." The corners of her mouth turn down, forming faint lines. She's not old enough for wrinkles. Not yet. "Spread the word around, will you? It ain't just yet another piece of paper from the boss man. It was me tryin' to keep y'all from gettin' yourself into a bad way."

Fischer nods a bit, "I'll spread the word." He offers a momentary grin as well, "Thanks for the help. I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we really appreciate any help we can get against these guys."

Sera shifts her weight, then, and looks down at her shoes. Hands jam into her pockets and she nods once. "Don't get me wrong, there's a couple of prick aboard this ship that I'd be just as happy to see shoved into some tiny little engine room an' never let out again. But contrary to what some of those pricks think, I do know we're all in this together. I don't want anybody on our side dead." There's a grin as she adds, "Even if I wouldn't mind a couple of them gettin' de-barkin' surgery."

Listening to that, Fischer's expression doesn't change, but after a few moments, he can't hold back the laughter now. "Quite understandable. I think there's always some people like that. But like you say, we're all in this together, no matter if we want it that way or not." A brief pause, and he adds, "We've been fighting ourselves too many times already." Thinking about that entire thing with Bancroft, it would seem.

As he laughs, the grin only gets bigger. She lifts her eyes up from her boots, which admittedly aren't as interesting as she seems to find them, and adds, "Yeah, well. More things change, the more things stay the same, I guess. Some people will do anythin' to get power, at the expense of everyone else. Some people will latch onto any excuse they can find to try an' pass off their bullshit as anythin' but. The way I figure, we can't really afford to lose too many of either." And then, poking her tongue into her cheek. "Can afford to pop a couple of them in the mouth, though."

Fischer grins, before he nods a little bit as he hears that. "Quite true, all of it," he offers with a bit of a smile. "And sometimes, popping them in the mouth is the only way they'll learn from their mistakes, after all."

Sera, it seems, is an excellent shadow boxer. A feint to the left. A hook to the right. Her invisible enemy must be out cold, especially because after throwing her punches, there's a pair of celebratory jazz hands. "Anyway, thanks for the help. Let me know when you're feelin' up to. I'll let the big boys upstairs know in the meantime, so none of the MPs take a shot at you for goin' near the crates."

"Will do," Fischer replies, offering a bit of a grin. "And I'd appreciate it if you make sure the MPs doesn't take a shot at me. Been shot enough for a little while already," he replies, a bit lightly.

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