ALT #390: The Corpses Won't Complain
The Corpses Won't Complain
Summary: Two pilots and two techies talk. Plans are formed.
Date: 31/Jan/2014
Related Logs: Nothing specific, although Troy and Minos plots mentioned.
Toby Thomas Holtz Sera 
Hangar Bay - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Each hangar deck is divided into five one-hundred yard sections, each divided from the others by massive blast doors that close vertically from the floor and overhead. Each hangar section houses all of the Vipers, Raptors, and Predators that the wing operates as well as the vital work areas to support and maintain these fighting platforms. Each bay is large enough to accommodate one of these frames and still get heavy work done, though the fore- and aft-most sections are dedicated to overhauls and major work to be done. The bays along the center section are located across from launch tubes and elevators in order to provide scramble and Alert-Five capabilities. The second-to-aft bay provides major elevator and transport access to the starboard bay as well as the major manufacturing facility. Due to the nature of the work, the hangar decks are major hubs of activity at all hours of the day and all but four hours overnight.
AWD #390

Its a normal working day in the bays, patrol flights and shuttle raptors are coming and going and other birds are being prepped or worked on as required. With the simulators down there is perhaps a slight increase in the number of viper-jocks about but all in all it seems to be a routine shift.
Knowing that there is a raptor coming in with a minor O2 supply issue, Toby has finished off his previous task and is waiting to greet dit so he can interrogate the crew for details before he sets to work. Its not landed yet though, so for now he's leaning against the hanger queen warching the other comings and goings.

Through the doorway that leads from the bay to the rest of the ship steps a youngish man. His face maintains his youth in age, but his eyes retain the forced maturity brought on by the reality of war. Despite this, he maintains a smile.
Thomas moves into the hangar and steps lively toward the bays. As he does he spots Toby. He moves toward him and as he approaches, he says, "Good morning." He extends his hand and continues. "I'm Ensign Morningstar. Need any help? I'm no tech, but I know a bit about ship's systems."

Toby turns to eye the young pilot as he approaches, looking sceptical for a moment before he shakes his head slowly. "Thanks for the offer Ensign," he starts, "but if you ain't got the certs then you don't want to be caught meddling with the birds. Chief'd kill you, then pass the remains onto your CAG so she can kill you again." He shrugs briefly, then glances towards the deck office and grins amusedly, "unless you want to go make the coffee that is?"

Thomas smiles. "Call me Thomas. Or Tom." He glances at the Deck officer and then back to Toby. "You need some coffee? I'll grab you some." He then moves off to where the refreshments are maintained.

Toby had quite apparently not expected the pilot to agree to that, but the young ensign should find a pot just inside the Chief's office. It's a brew that smells of tyllium fuel, but then so does most of the deck. "Shackleton," he replies with a faint nod as introductions are shared, "you getting ready for patrol, or just checking up on your bird?"

The young man steps back to the crewman with a cup filled with dark, pungent liquid. He hads over the warm cup and nods at the name. "Nah, just bored up there and I like to make sure you guys on the deck are taken care of." He jerks his thumb in a vague direction of his bunk. "How are hte birds doing Shackleton?"

Toby takes a slurp of his drink as he glances run round the bay. "Things are fairly quiet, got a couple of preds that are giving the avionics boys kittens but not much besides that. Got a sick raptor coming in bit again thats not coming in hot, they just radioed ahead to let us know."

In the background, a familiar klaxon sounds; a ship has just landed and is being lowered into the bay. A silvery Mark VII Viper is on the pad, and it's quickly wheeled back into place along the line. The canopy slides open, and Holtz removes his helmet and seal collar, passing them off to a waiting crew chief. He quickly runs through his post-flight before climbing out of the fighter, his boots clanging softly against the deck when he hops off the ladder.

Thomas nods to the tech and seems about to say something else, but then the Viper comes in. He sees the Major exit the ship and nods to himself. He waits before approaching or speaking to the superior officer until he has finished his post-flight checklist.

Toby glances towards the lifts as the klaxon sounds, wondering if thats the arrival of the raptor he's waiting for. When its a viper though he returns to his coffee, would be a shame to let it get cold after all. Holtz gets a brief nod as he disembarks his bird and if he's surprised the man is flying again so soon after being blown up then he doesn't show it. "Major," he greets simply, "quiet flight?"

Holtz stops and looks over when he hears Toby calling out after him, and he nods. From his movements he seems to be all healed up from the explosion in the sims… or at least he's managed to convince the doctors as much, anyway. "Quiet flight," he replies, "but not as quiet a landing. I think my damn gimble's busted again, mind havin' a look? Damn thing was rollin' like a drunken sailor." He looks past Toby in Thomas' direction. "Hey, Morningstar. You goin' up — " he nods back in the direction of the line of parked Vipers — "or just here to rubberneck?"

Thomas stands up a little straighter when addressed. He moves into a parade rest type of stance and asks, "Is that a question or an order sir?"

"Waiting for a Raptor that's having some sort of O2,pressure issues," Toby replies almost apologetically to Holtz, "you stick it on the form though?I'll make sure it gets checked out." Gimbles aren't really his field, but he doesn't mind helping make sure pilots th at aren't dicks to techs get the birds sorted first.

"If it was an order, you wouldn't have to ask," Holtz deadpans in the ensign's direction, the ghost of a smirk playing across his lips. He might just be messing with Thomas a little. "Just a question, but I can make it an order if you really want." Yeah, definitely teasing a little. He looks back at Toby with another nod. "Right. It's already on the post-flight." He waves the clipboard that's still in one hand. "As long as someone has a look at it before I go up again." There's a slight pause, and he tilts his head at something Toby had said. "Nothing too serious on that Raptor, I hope? Heard part of the call on the radio when I was out there, but I didn't get the specifics."

The young Ensign smiles a bit and relaxes. "No need sir, just got back from patrol a couple hours ago. Wasn't very tired so I came down to see if I could help out the deck crew with anything." He looks over at Toby and drins before patting the crewman on the back. "Gotta take care of these guys."

Toby grins little at the interplay between the pilots then gives a glance to the clipboard and a nod. "Not too serious," he replies, "they're not declaring a mayday or classing it as a hot landing, just want it sorted before they need to carry more than two." A brief shrug, "sounds like it's a pump issue but won't know til I crack it open." The pat on his back earns Thomas a questioning look for a moment but then he just goes back to slurping his coffee.

Holtz seems pleased by Thomas' response, if a little amused by the pat on the back. Still, it's an attitude he clearly wishes more of his pilots shared. "Well, just make sure you get some rack time at some point. I'd hate to have to push a dose of stims down your throat to get you back up in the air, yeah?" Then, back to Toby. "Good to hear." A pause, and then his voice drops to a quiet, but still barely audible murmur. "Last frakkin' thing we need is another…" His voice trails off, the end of his sentence an unintelligible mumble.

Ensign Morningstar nods his head to the Major and says, "No problem sir, just some wind down time is all." He looks at Toby as the man is addressed and then furrows his brow at the trailing mumbles. "What happened sir?"

Legs. There is a pair of orange legs sticking out from underneath the nose of a nearby Viper. It's not an unusual site on deck. Quite the contrary, actually. This pair, however, seems to be connected to the rest of a technician who suddenly begins swearing — loudly and vociferously — in what was clearly not the dulcet tones of Caprican-turned-Colonial-Standard. Rather, it's a rough, gutteral, cobbled-together tongue — a tongue the gods may well have created solely to carry with it the acidic bile aimed at a malfunctioning machine in need of a good dressing down. A few seconds later, one CPO Sera Jane Rutlii rolls out from underneath the thing, with a big, blotchy, stinky wet puddle of tylium fuel all over the front of her coveralls.

Toby nods in solemn agreement with Holtz, but he'll let the Major explain it. "It won't get signed off to fly again before I'm happy with it, don't worry Sir." A glance to the escalator is given when the klaxon goes off again, it's his raptor but he has a minute or two to ask "When you up again Major?" before he has to head over to start his inspection.

"Works for me, Shackleton," Holtz replies. "I don't think I'll have to go up again tonight, but I'm scheduled for the patrol line over Picon tomorrow." A faintly surprised look goes Thomas' way, but he explains. "Remember all that commotion a few days ago? Somebody put a bomb in the sims. Killed two of my pilots and a computer tech." He snorts. "Well. The Marines ain't sayin' much about it yet, but the way I see it, ain't much chance it could've been anything else." At the sound of cursing, his eyes slide over to where Sera's emerging from underneath a fighter. "Problem, Chief?" he asks dryly.

Thomas nods, knowingly. "Ahh. Yeah, that was awful. I ran a few patrols with one of the guys. He was good." He kind of trails off, not sure what else to say. He welcomes the distraction from the cursing tech.

One of the crew working the Viper wordlessly passes Sera a towel. While she's not exactly swearing at them, it's probably for the best that no one can understand a damned word coming out of her mouth as she points her wrench accusingly at the Viper and rattles off a rant in her native Trojan. And then, as she's mopping at her stomach and her chest, she mutters under her breath, "…Frakkin' hate the stench of that stuff." A beat. A blink. Yes, she's in fact being addressed by a Major. "Sir."

"Mmhmm." Holtz doesn't seem to have much else to say about the incident, either; from the strained, somewhat angry look on his face, it's still not an easy subject for him. He relaxes a bit when he looks back down at the Viper and the crew working on it; Sera's muttering gets a slightly raised eyebrow, but nothing more. After all, the stuff does smell pretty foul. He looks at the nameplate on the side of the fighter; thankfully, it's not his ship that spewed all over the chief's coveralls. "The frak happened?" he asks curiously.

Thomas remains quiet, but looks over with curiosity toward the Viper and it's exacuation of fuel onto the Chief. He doesn't laugh or anything. He's had that stuff on his hands before. Smell sticks with you for a week. He can't imagine what it would be like to be covered in it.

Y'know how they tritanium fuel bladders on the Mark VII is supposed to be self-sealin'?," Sera says, trying not to make a repulsed face as she discovers a puddle of fuel in one of the rubber pockets on the front of her suit. She stuffs the towel down in there, too, trying to dry it out. No way she's going to be able to put this thing through laundry without risking a fire — not without handwashing it, first. "Well, this one ain't. In fact, it ain't sealin' at all." A beat, and then, "Don't worry, sir. It'll be on the report that Franklin ," she stops short, clearly more accustomed to talking about most of the pilots, rather than addressing them directly outside of the context of their flight-check, " the Lieutenant Colonel gets. Ain't nobody goin' up in that thing."

Holtz catches the slip of the tongue, but he merely nods, not commenting on it. "Never doubted it," he says at her mention of the report. He, too, resists the urge to chuckle as he exchanges a look with Thomas, though there is a slight wrinkle of his nose at the acrid smell coming off her suit. "Just glad you caught it down here before somebody tried takin' her out, yeah?"

Thomas catches his superior's eye and there is a little wiggling for a moment at the corners of his mouth. He regains his composure and speaks to the tech. "Chief, I would love to take a look at getting certified on these Vipers so I could help out when you need it. I'm fairly handy with a spanner." He casts a quick and genuine smile.

Sera's mouth drops open, an immediate, instinctive reply to Thomas about to come spilling forth from her lips. Fortunately, for once, she has the good sense to snap her jaw shut and think for a second. After all, chatting up officers has never been her strong suit — especially not with the Orion's Wing. Not for a long time. And then she swallows, and forces a smile. "I can't say as I recommend spendin' your day crawlin' up a Viper's backside, gettin' cut up an' banged up and greased up an' pissed on, but if that's how you want to spend your free time," she says, turning to eye Holtz momentarily, "It's real nice of you, but that's up to your CO to decide. Sir."

With the raptor crew interrogated as to the exact issues, Toby feels confident enough to confirm his initial pump failure diagnosis. Thankfully that means a quick replacement of the part solves the issue and the removed part can likely be repaired with a decent service. Assuring the aircrew that their departure won't be delay ed the knuckledragger swop the parts out and then heads back towards the office to file the paperwork. Conveniently that brings him back past Sera and the pilots. "Chief," he offers with a nod, eying her coveralls, "sick bird?"

Holtz blinks, shooting a wounded look in Sera's direction when she passes the buck to him. To Thomas, he says, "They've got their jobs, Ensign, and you've got yours… and they're pretty damn good at theirs. I don't mind you lendin' a hand if an emergency comes up, but on a day-to-day basis, I'd say concentrate on your flying and let the chief's bunch worry about the fixing." He grins. "If you've got extra time and energy, I can always find somethin' for you to do. Patrols always need flying."

Wounded look? What wounded look? Sera is the picture of oblivious innocence, and with that girl-next-door face of hers, it's a look she can actually pull off without giving too much away. Grease smudges, swearing, and all, she suddenly looks almost exactly like little Susie from two doors down the street. "Tritanium fuel-bladder ain't sealin' the way it's supposed to," she explains mildly to Toby. "So now it looks like I might have to go down to supply an' harangue the paper-pushers into lookin' for another set in my size, if I can't get this gods-damned stink out."

Toby winces at the answer Sera gives, thats really no fun at all. "They actually make 'em your size?" he mocks gently, damn it Chief I felt sure you'd had to wash it too hot." Holtz and Thomas are given brief nods before he turns specifically to the Major. "Looks like I've got a couple of days planet leave next week, there anythong in particular needs doing?"

Holtz again restrains a snicker at Toby's comment to Sera. He does a remarkable job of keeping a straight face as he shrugs at the other man. "From what I heard, the weather's got major construction on hold. There were a few buildings up before the first freeze hit, and I was told the engineers managed to put up some heated tents for them what didn't have a solid roof over their heads. Far as I know, ain't much else to be done for the time being."

The look which Sera gives Toby could probably blast a hole through a Heavy Raider's hull. No wonder she's got the reputation she has on deck. "Haha, Shackleton. It ain't my fault your women get their kicks with a gods-damned Cyclops," she blurts out, apparently having forgotten that Holtz is also standing right there. Brown eyes roll; a holdover, no doubt, for her days as an exasperated teenager with two younger siblings.

Toby considers that reply for a moment then gives a short nod. "Sounds like a day or two of firewood collection then," he replies, making a mental note to hunt out a think pair of gloves first.,His usual pair are dyed officer's ceremonials ones and thus far too thin. Sera's reply brings a broad grin to his features though and he replies in high humour, "Chief, you ain't seen our women…."

Holtz shrugs at Toby. "Guess so," he remarks dryly. A moment later, his grey eyes shoot another look in Sera's direction, his brow peaking slightly. "Better a cyclops than a horse, am I right?" he retorts, as much to get some of his own back as to remind Sera that yes, he's still there and still listening. Not that he seems to take any serious umbrage to what she said, but still. It's the principle of the thing.

Thomas Morningstar looks over at Holtz and says, "Sir, if you don't mind, I'm not that tired, I could go up for another patrol."

"Ain't nobody frakked that horse," she replies, swiftly and without hesitation. "Just let it in the front door." There's something though —- something about the mention of Troy that makes her stop, and blink at the pair of them, and crook her head to one side. "…You're talkin' about the Minoans they settled down planetside, aren'tcha?" There's a long stretch of silence from her, the sort that seems like she's actually waiting for an answer before saying, very slowly, "….I know where you could get them some of the things they need."

Toby glances over to Thomas as he volunteers for more flight time, the gestures with his thumb to the viper that just vented all over Sera, "just be sure you don't take that one right," he offers, hopefully. Holtz is given a brief nod and it looks like he's about to add something else when Sera starts acting oddly. He looks bakc to his fellow knuckledragger, giving a slow nod inconfirmation as he waits for whatever it is she has to say before tilting his head in an equally crooked manner. "Yeah," he then confirms verbally as he processes what she said after. The, gaze narrowing a little he asks, "Troy?"

Holtz looks a little skeptical, but he nods in Thomas' direction. "All right, then. Ensign Stone's scheduled for the next flight, but he pulled a double last night; I'll let you take his place." His brow rises again at Sera's last, and he pauses; when he speaks to her again, his tone is wholly serious. "Well, Chief, don't keep it all to yourself."

There a nod to Toby — slow, mute, somber. "I got sent back with a crew a coupla months ago, to help 'em pick through my home town for medical supplies to bring back to medbay when we were captured and held by the crew of the Icarus, thinkin' we were Cylons." Sera's jaw works slightly, muscles twitching. "Whole planet was nothin' but domed settlements an' they didn't bother nukin' it. Just cracked 'em up, sucked the air right out. Anythin' that wasn't canned or spoiled's gone bad by now, but most everythin' else — clothes, medicine, fuel, equipment — that ought to be just fine." Her mouth purses slightly, but it doesn't keep her voice from cracking as she says, bitterly, "Ain't nobody goin' to miss any of it. The corpses won't complain."

The Ensign nods to the Major and starts to move away when the word of new supplies is mentioned. He pauses and listens to the story. Upon completion, he speaks out. "We HAVE to get those supplies. These people need them." He looks to Holtz as the ranking officer

Toby looks sceptical initially, but then his mind had leaped to the 'repair the domes and moves the Minoans there' option. Sera's idea is, on the whole, far more achievable. "We could do that," he replies quietly, "hell, we went to Picon for medical scanners and there were centurians on the ground there. It'd need the okay from Captain St Clair atleast, but," he looks back to Sera, "I'd go." He knows it's hard for her, going to Minos and seeing Tauran buring infront of him damn near broke him so he knows and just gives a low nod back, "I'd go."

Holtz studies Sera for a moment, and nods. His expression is sober as he hears the bitterness in her tone; the feeling and significance of what she's saying isn't lost on him. When he finally speaks, though, it's to Thomas. "You won't get any argument from me, Ensign," he says. "I'll run it by the CAG. But I don't see her objecting, after all she did to get those people here and off Minos in the first place." Steely eyes flick back to Sera. "As for you, Chief… if you want to go — or if you don't want to go — I think it can be arranged."

There's a long moment of silence from Sera, while she considers the statement. That someone so quick to make a quip is silent for a long time is not a fact which should be lost on any of them. "The way I figure it," she says slowly, which only drags out her Trojan drawl. "If there's somethin' right an' decent that can come from all those folks dyin', then it should. But it ain't my only reason for goin', sir. An' if you try to stop me from payin' the Ferryman for my mama's soul this time, you're goin' to have to shoot me to get me back on that damned ship." Sera tears her eyes away from the vague spot she'd been considering, way off in the back of the hangar bay, near the doors. Her eyes are not kind. Her expression is not the least bit appropriate, given the difference in rank. But that doesn't seem to stop her.

The gravity of the Chief's words are not lost on Thomas. He remains silent and motionless. His eyes remain fixed on her as she speaks with such determined passion. Everyone in this hangar has seen so much over the past year. How could anyone deny her the simple chance of tossing back a little greif to those that stole so much from so many.

Toby's beliefs about the souls of the dead may be different to Sera's but that right there is a sentiment he knows all too well. He shoots a quick glance around to make sure that no one is loitering on the edges of the conversation then gives Sera a single slow nod in understanding. "I'm with you Chief," he offers, before turning to give Holtz a quick upnod too, as if to ensure his name goes on the list as well for when the time comes. Then it's back to Sera, via a quick look to Thomas, "just let me know when."

"Chief, I plan to be along as well, and anyone that tries to stop you this time is gonna have to deal with me," Holtz replies with an almost startling vehemence, meeting her gaze squarely without any hint of judgement or condemnation. Though, considering what happened to Tauron and the people on it when the Cylons attacked, his thoughts on the matter might not be all that surprising. A nod goes to the both of them. "You'll hear back once I know somethin' for sure." It's said with the quiet solemnity of a promise.

"Last time, I was offered the option of payin' the Ferryman the coins he was owed, or bein' left behind to die," Sera says, with a surprising calm — the sort of calm the precedes a storm, one which she is doing her utmost to stave off. Gods above, is it any wonder the girl don't like officers much? Her chin juts, her jaw sets, but she doesn't say anything else about that. "You just tell me what that lady-CAG of yours says, an' where you want to land. I know all the ports. Used to fly 'em just fine. We'll get you what you need for down planetside." A beat, and then, "I gotta get back to work." Or away from the conversation. Vipers are easier to deal with than the apocalypse, even when they do stink.

The young pilot nods to each of them in turn and then heads toward the pilot ready room to get dressed and ready to launch.

Toby eyes Sera in silence for a moment, then flicks his attention to the crew she's woking with. Good lads (and lasses), ones he trusts to run interferance should anyone decide they want to bother the Chief for the next half hour or so. That being so, and with Thomas making to go as well he turns back to Holtz and nods briefly in the direction of his viper, "I'll go make sure someone gets that gamble looked at. One less thing for you to worry about."

"Thanks, Shackleton," Holtz says to Toby. The gimble on his fighter isn't a huge concern, but nevertheless, he does prefer not to run the risk of pitching his ship down onto the deck when he tries to land. He looks over to Thomas as the other pilot moves off to get ready to fly. "See you in a few hours, Morningstar." Finally, Sera gets a slow nod. "Thanks, Chief. I'll be in touch." And with a final look around, he turns away, heading for the hangar's exit.

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