MD #163: What's Up With The Chief?
What's Up With The Chief?
Summary: Deckies young and old discuss the latest gossip
Date: 18/09/2017
Related Logs: None
Toby Terrence Becker 
Fitness Centre - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Smelling of sweat and grease, the Fitness Centre is a place where individuals can come to work out or just work off stress. The area closest to the entrance is taken up by two very large sparring pads with a pathway down the centre, each pad removable to reveal a Pyramid court beneath. The walls beside the pads hold lockers for everything from pugilist sticks to boxing gloves to rubber guns, though deadly weapons are strictly prohibited in here except by authorized personnel such as on-duty Military Police. Standing goalposts for Pyramid are also kept against the wall. Past the pads are a vast number of nautilus machines as well as free weights to lift. At the back of the room are workout bikes, rowing machines, treadmills, and stairclimbers. There is an entrance to the pool at the rear as well as a locker room to the side.

It's the day after the fleet returned from Aerlion and the routine of battlestar life seems to be settling in once more. For most people anyway, if this were a normal day Toby would have been on the deck for a couple of hours already, working his shift, fixing things, inventorying things, inspecting things, but he's not. He's in the fitness centre in his PT kit and by the amount of sweat it looks like he's been going at it for a while. Exhausted isn't quite the word for it, but he's certainly close as he steps off a slowing treadmill and crouches down onto his haunches to get his breath back. Knackered, thats a good way to put it. Whatever regimen he's working to appears to be pretty brutal.

Another Deck is soon to make an appearance in the fitness centre, sneakers rustling across the floor as he steps through the hatch. He is dressed in his standard issue fitness attire, his slender form more pronounced now that he is out of his heavy work coveralls. The man takes a few moments to look around while he stands just inside the hatch, pulling his arms across his chest to stretch his shoulders out. He spots Toby, his brow furrowing as he notes how hard the man seems to be pushing himself before he walks in that direction. "What are you doing, man? Most people are resting a little bit easier now that we're back."

Toby glances up as he spots Terrence's feet approaching, raising one hand briefly in greeting until he gets his breath back enough ot actually talk. "Yeah, I know. Some people are sensible though." He seems to consider standing up again, then aborts and stays where he is. "Others are morons." The way he says it makes it clear that he firmly puts himself in the latter category at the moment. "Got to get my time down though, and I'm not going to do that sat on my arse." Since standing up didn't happen he settles himself backwards until he's sitting and can reach for his water. "So, how are you doing?"

"Gotta get your time down?" Terrence questions, glancing briefly at the treadmill before looking back toward Toby's general state. "Surely you aren't in danger of falling below our PT requirements? We have some of the less fit people on the ship… myself included," he says with a half smirk and self-deprecating shrug. "As for me, I guess I'm doing okay. I don't mind the assignments like we had… gets the adrenaline pumping more than what working on the vipers do."
<Newbie | Public> Murphy has disconnected.

Toby slowly stretches his legs out in front of him, because cramp really is nobodies friend. "Yeah, get my time down or a charming marine sergeant will go red in the face yelling at me. Generally, I have a bad history when marines yell at me, I tend to punch them, and that would be a bad plan on several levels." He does crack a faint smile at the mental image though, before moving on. "Deck levels I'm okay with, but I'm aiming for combat levels, and whoever wrote those was a fraking sadist." Taking another sip of water he nods to Terrence's reply about the assignment "yeah, it can mix thing sup nicely to get off ship sometimes. Take any chance you can for that, unless you're convinced it's suicide of course, then avoid like the plague." He almost stops there, then curiosity gets the better of him and he has to ask, "how’s the Chief today?"

Terrence's brow does not unfurrow as he listens to what Toby has to say, crossing his arms over his slender chest as he says, "Combat levels? Why?" It is clear through his tone that there is some suspicion rising behind his eyes. He glances back the way he came, toward the hatch, as if mention of the Chief may reveal her standing there behind him enjoying a bit of leisure time. "The Chief has been hell on wheels here lately. She's biting off heads left and right and pitching them into an incinerator if they aren't on top of their duties. I don't guess this has anything to do with what she was mad at you about?"

"Because I'm transferring to combat duties," Toby replies openly, aka. the Marines. "There's a whole load of dad souls who need to find their rest, and the only way to ensure they get it is to avenge them. So each and every collaborating bastard I find I'm going to kill, and it's hard to do that from the deck." It's a Tauran thing, the whole vengeance malarkey, but he seems to be treating it as Holy Law. The reply about the Chief has him wincing though. "Dunno, might be, maybe something happened while we were gone?" He hopes something happened, really hopes it did, but he can't convince himself of it. "Give her time," he advises, "but keep your head down for a while anyway."

Terrence doesn't say anything for some time, simply standing and looking at Toby in silence. "I see," he finally says, and it is clear by his tone that the younger deck crewman is viewing Toby's intent to transfer as a form of betrayal. "What did you make Chief mad for, anyways?"

Well, if Terrence is just going to stand there, Toby is going to start working on some warm down stretches. Slowly at first, but you've got to start somewhere. He stops though, when the deckie replies, and just looks him straight in the face. "Look, this is war, shit happens. You don't like it? Tough. Or go yell at Commander Petra and tell him to block the transfer if it bothers you that much, then let me know how that goes for you." Poorly, that is how that would go, but that's so obvious it doesn't need stating. "And she's pissed at me -because- I'm transferring, but even she isn't blocking it, which she could by the way, but she isn't." He leaves out the personal bit, that's not open to skutt.

Terrence snorts and says, "Look man, I'm not looking to block you from transferring where you want to go. This is war, you're right. If you want to go run with the jarheads, that's your prerogative." He shrugs his shoulders before he says, "I just thought we had a good thing going on the Deck side of things with this last mission. I thought we worked pretty well together firing down that mountain. I hate to think you're going to go out and get yourself shot to hell, and you take up a lot of slack on the deck."

"We did work well together," Toby confirms, "and if you keep going on that sort of job then I suspect we'll work well together again." As for wanting to run with the jarheads he shrugs a little, "don't get me wrong, my history with the marines will tell you we're not the best of friends, but there's no other way to do what I need to do, so sometimes you've got to compromise." Pushing himself to his feet he seems to largely have his breath back now, but he doesn't look like he's about to go again for a while. "I have no intention of getting shot," he answers, "I intend to be doing the shooting, not receiving." Because that'll work, surely.

"If that's what you want," Terrence says with a tired sort of sigh. "Lots of people go into it thinking they're going to be the ones doing all of the shooting. Like you said before, shit happens," he says, turning to look for some piece of equipment to attack before he glances over his shoulder at Toby. "Don't be thinking I'm a coward, either. I'm not. I just know where my talents are."

"I've been shot before," Toby notes with a slight side-eye, "I know exactly what I'm signing up for. This is my what? Fourth war? I'm under no illusion." He's old yeah, but no wya old enough to have been around for the 1st Cylon War, so there's an extra one in there somewhere that isn't included in the general Colonial reckoning. "Yates. You're not a coward, no one is saying you are, and if they do, punch them in the face. Repeatedly."

"Well, those of us still on the deck are going to hate to see you go," Terrence says. "A lot of people are going to have to pick up the slack you'd been carrying." He considers something for a moment before snorting in amusement and saying, "Who is going to kick cocky Marine ass for us now? And yeah, I know I'm no coward. I had thought about making the jump a few times. But I just know I do better on the mechanic side of things. I'm no foot soldier."
<Public> Diaz has connected.

"Just, look after the Chief for me would you," Toby replies after taking onboard some more water, "she's having a rough time of things. She'll get her head sorted out, just keep things ticking over until she does." As for kicking marine arse he just grins, "oh, I fully intend to keep kicking their arse," he notes, "although maybe a little less of the crushing of their windpipes." Randy is okay, he can joke about it all he wants now. "Keep doing what you're good at PO, ain't no frakking wing hotshot going to go out there and take down raiders if there's no one fixing their birds for them."

Terrence nods his head, giving Toby a look at that request and it is clear the man is wondering what other reason there is behind it. "I will if I can. Like I said earlier, she's been biting heads off lately, I've just been trying to lay low, you know?" He chuckles before nodding, "Yeah, maybe less crushing windpipes would be a good idea. That could have gone bad."

"She'll get over it," Toby replies with a faint frown, "she'll need time, but you'll get the Chief back. If in doubt give her an engine to dissect, or let her get on with inventorying. She's an old friend, it's not good to see her like this, but right now if I try anything it'd make things worse, not better."

Becker has been trying not to eavesdrop during her run. Really. It's just that whatever they're talking about is more interesting than whatever's in her earbuds. Okay. That's the opposite of trying not to eavesdrop. Whatever. She finishes up on the treadmill and trots over. "Okay, so what exactly is even going on with her?"

Toby glances over to Becker for a moment as she joins the conversation then rolls his shoulders as a displacement activity to delay having to reply, even if just for a few moments. "She's having a tough time," he replies, "things got shitty, but she'll get over it and crack on as normal soon. Just bear with her while she sorts things out would you?" Yes, from his tone he knows details, but he doesn't seem particularly keen to spill them, not even to his fellow knuckledraggers.

Becker wipes her forehead with her towel, pushing back blonde hair that had gotten stuck to her forehead. "Hey, man, I'm not giving her a hard time. I'm a good girl."

"I know you're not," Toby replies after grabbing another mouthful of water, "just saying that people need to let her get it out of her system, that’s all." He restarts his warm down stretches, hoping to at least partially offset the muscle pain that is going to be visiting later. "She's tough, she'll be fine."

"If you say so, I believe you." Becker gives a jaunty two-fingered salute. "Okay, I'm going to go hit the showers so I can use up all the hot water before you get there." She grins impishly and heads out.

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