ALT #349: We'll Get Things In Hand
We'll Get Things In Hand
Summary: Toby and Holtz discuess what needs doing for the Minoans. Understandings are made.
Date: 21/Dec/2013
Related Logs: Bouncing Things up the Chain specifically, other Minoan logs in general.
Toby Holtz 
Tent City - Piraeus
A temporary settlement that's popped up on the outskirts of Sheridan proper. Most of the population of a couple of thousand is housed in tents, though more than a few shanties made of a combination of sheets of scrap metal, plywood, and yes, even blankets and packing cardboard have appeared. Their area is in no way properly planned, and is largely impossible to navigate for those who do not spend considerable amounts of time there. At best, the areas seem to exist in clusters delineated by some sort of familial bond. (Taurans may well recognize these as rolga. Outsiders, good luck your first few times there.)
AWD #349

It's certainly cold now down on Piraeus, even in the mid afternoon, but the ground isn't frozen and there doesn't seem to be snow, so winter can still only be said to be threatening. There are several ways to combat the cold, wear layers, sit by a fire, or get in some good old fashioned hard labour. Toby it seems has opted for both options one and three, although by the way he's ditched his coat and has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows it would seem that that was perhaps a tad excessive. Making his way from the main tented settlement back towards the landing zone he's off to see if the newly landed raptor has any supplies that need carrying, that and maybe steal a few miutes of rest chatting to the crew.

Cold indeed. It's not quite cold enough for Holtz to have bundled up, but he's wearing a jacket over his fatigues all the same. He'd come down on the same Raptor Toby was heading for, and instead of helping unload — that, after all, is what enterprising young junior officers and enlisted men are for — he's headed for the tent city himself, on the same path and in the opposite direction that Toby's moving. When he nears the settlement, he catches sight of the deckhand heading for the landing zone, and he stops to nod in Toby's direction as he lights up a cigarette. "Shackleton," he greets Toby, sounding quite unsurprised to see the other man here.

Toby hears his name and glances over to see where it came from. Holtz isn't hard to spot and he diverts over to where the pilot is stood, offering a quick nod and a «Major» in greeting. It's in Tauran, instinctively, but then that's the language he's been using most this past while. Sticking his gloved hands into his pockets he tilts his head towards the landing pad and asks, «there much to be fetched? I can get more pairs of hands if needed.» Then back to the tents, «come to have a look round?»

«Not much,» Holtz replies, smoothly switching to Tauran himself without missing a beat. «Few pieces of equipment for the scientists, some supplies for the tent city.» He takes a drag from the cigarette and waves back in the direction of the landing pad. «Last I saw, they weren't short on hands.» At the deckhand's question, he nods, casually peering past Toby in the direction of the impromptu but rapidly growing shanty town. «Came to visit my daughter down in Sheridan, thought I'd make a stop along the way.»

Content enough to take Holtz's word for that, Toby just gives a casual nod then turns back so he's facing the tents. «There's a few of what you might call shakes gone up, where people have found sheets of metal and such, it's mostly still tents though,» he explains, giving a quick run down of the situation. «If what you were saying about the cold holds out though we're going to frakked when it hits if we don't start with the pre-fabs.» A few frownlines form on his brow as he tilts his head back towards the science complex. «I had a quick word with Lieutenant West about it a few days back but apparently I'd misunderstood what she was doing. She's been looking into how to sort a perminant site, not how to get them through the winter. Not sure who that leaves in charge of actually sorting stuff down here.» A pause as he turns back to the Major a moment, «If you're still willing to pass word to the brass, can you let them know that we really need someone with some clout here calling the shots to get things sorted?»

As Toby speaks, Holtz's eyes finish a pass over the tent city's skyline(such as it is) before turning back to the other man, an eyebrow raising slightly. «Permanent site?» he echoes in disbelief. «Won't be much need for a permanent site if we don't focus on gettin' these people through the winter first, yeah?» He can't help but roll his eyes at that, but a moment later he nods. «I'll pass it along. Sounds like they're gonna need someone who's got their priorities slightly more in order.»

«I think it was me getting things arse backwards that put her anywhere in the picture for sorting stuff now,» Toby offers, for while his general opinion is definitely along the line of Holtz's, it does look like it was his fault that the confusion occured. A shrug, or half shrug, since his hands don't leave his pockets, then «that's pretty much it. Ideally someone who has the rank and time in to get things done, speaks the lingo, and who they already know and respect.» He doesn't look at the Major as he says that, just gazes back over the settlement, «sooner rather than later though, I reckon we'll be pushed for time as it is.»

Ash flutters to the ground as Holtz taps his cigarette, eyes flicking again towards the shantytown. «Not your fault the bloody scientist's run off and put the cart before the horse, yeah?» He shakes his head as if to say it can't be helped. An eyebrow raises slightly. «List of folks who'd fit that description has got to be pretty damn short.» Holtz fits it. From the look on his face, he knows it, too. On one hand it's something that desperately needs doing. But on the other, that would take him out of a Viper cockpit for some time, and he seems to realize that as well. «Yeah,» he says, abruptly breaking out of his brief, silent reverie as he looks back at Toby. «One way or another, we'll get things in hand. Got no other choice in the matter. Not if these folks're gonna survive the winter.»

Toby lets the remarks about Lieutenant West go with a shrug, he was just wanting to make sure that it was clear she hadn't volunteered to handle stuff now and then gone straight to perminant. As for the length of the list he gives a single, short nod of acknowledgement. «Can't think of many,» he offers, then glances back towards the major, «reckon whoever took it on would have a load of willing hands though, people who fit one or two of those criteria themselves.» Having been stood still for a few minutes now he's starting to get cold, so pulls his hands out long enough to roll his sleeves down then folds his arms across his chest. «Thanks Major.»

Holtz grunts, a distant expression on his face as he exhales a lungful of smoke. «You're probably right. At the very least, the Fleet's got no shortage of strong backs, and we've got a few folks floatin' around that can at least speak the language. So that's something.» He seems clear enough on the situation, and from the wheels turning behind his eyes, he's already brewing a few thoughts of his own on the matter. A few moments later, he nods slowly. «Not a problem, Shackleton. Any time.»

Toby watches Holtz silently for a few moments, allowing himself a brief feeling of relief now that one thing seems to be sorted he then nods once before the frown lines return. One down, many many more to go. «You need anything Major, just let me know,» he states, just in case there was any doubt, «even once everything up top is sorted,» a quick upnod to indicate Orion. Then, after another moment he offers, «want me to show you round?»

Holtz nods again. There wasn't any doubt, but it's always good to hear for certain where someone stands. «You'll be the first one I chase down,» he promises wryly. After a moment, he gestures in the direction of the tent city with a slight incline of the head. «Sure,» he affirms, «wouldn't mind a quick tour.» And with that, he snuffs out the dwindling remains of his cigarette and falls back into motion, his steps carrying him once more in the direction of the cluster of tents.

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