| BSOD |
| Summary: | Data that Quinn transmits to Trask's brain results in a major disk error and proverbial Blue Screen of Death. |
| Date: | 20 Jun 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Preceded by Assorted Stupid & Other Matters |
| Players: |
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| Naval Head - Deck 4 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| Like any normal head on the ship, this one is painted in light grey with some blue around the top of the room. Down the center there are 16 sinks, 8 on each side backed up to each other. Along the hull areas of the room, showers and lockers are toward the back and off to the left of the sinks are closed toilets and open urinals. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #114 |
Quinn finally limped up, after Bunny fell back into a showered nap, and has gone for the showers herself. Or the closest thing she can do to a shower, which is leaning against the big sink on her good leg as she sponge-bathes off arms and face for the moment. Just a quick clean up, something to wake her up as much as anything. She's still in her tanks and sweats as she leans there, looking just a hint pale in the steam of the room.
A combat squadron ECO is not one to cease searching for an intended target. At long last, Trask finally finds the blip that is Quinn. Wordlessly and wearily, he veers that way with the utmost purposefulness. "So," he begins with no manner of preamble, "what are these 'personal other matters' that I keep being told you need to tell me about?" No hello. No 'I missed you so much!' or 'I am so happy you are not dead!'. No hugs or hair ruffling or head scritching. Just a level look at odds with a causal lean against the sink, coupled with brazen directness that's been inflamed by a sour mood.
Quinn blinks slowly, having turned as he came in and dropped the wash cloth she was using, about to go for the hug herself, when he brought that up. She stares at him, just frowning, wordless for several heartbeats. Apparently, this wasn't the way she was planning on breaking the news. Gathering in a breath and forcing herself to turn back away from him so she's facing the mirror again, she picks up the wash cloth and goes back to soaping up her arm. "It would depend what the personal other matters were concerning… The only one I could think of at the moment would be the fact I'm pregnant." She blurts right out, equally as blunt, in her lilting Aerilonian accent.
Whatever it was that he was expecting to hear, Maggie being knocked-up wasn't one of them. So much so that it takes a long moment before the words seep in, get parsed, and eventually comprehended. During said moment, Bootstrap looks as though he just suffered the BSOD and is in the process of rebooting his brain.
Quinn murmurs, a bit softer, while his brain is still rebooting it seems, "It's… good to see you too, Kal." But she leaves it there, not reaching for the hug no matter how much she might wish. Not even forcing him to stay. She said her piece and she meant it. She'd missed him so damn much. Any other bit of emotion she forces back down her throat as she washes the soap off her arms and throat.
Checking system disk for errors…
Quinn frowns a bit more as he's actually quiet for longer than two seconds. This is near impossible. Trask is never quiet. She slowly turns her muddy gaze back to him, frown lingering, "…Kal…?"
5% completed… 8% completed… 12% completed… 17% completed…
Quinn sets down the wash cloth, draping a towel across her shoulders and reaching for her crutches so she can actually, fully turn her body to face him. She leans on the crutches now instead of the side of the sink. "…Kal, talk to me… it… frak, I wanted ta say it nicer but yer always so damned blunt, figure you'd appreciate the honesty. Besides… frak… I don't know how to handle this either, really."
Brown eyes blink several times. Although his expression remains rather blank, a cacophony of emotions starts to load as his internal OS is firing up. Shock. Dismay. Confusion. Horror. Anger. Anxiety. Fear. They rapidly cycle and flicker in his intent gaze.
Where as he can't talk, Maggie can't -stop- talking. The need to fill the space. To see him begin to actually process this and, truly, to keep him in the room. She's missed him so much, that quiet ache unhidden in her features. She'd hug him if she had free hands. "…it… it must have been Beltaine… I never… Dreamt, you know… but that's why I… I wasn't so well on the surface." Well, among other reasons…
Six frakking weeks. I'm gone six frakking weeks and the universe implodes. What the frakking frak? Am I capable of imagining so much stupid? Is this some demented dream or truly a deluge of dumbasses? Pregnant. Frakking pregnant. First, it's Tillman off his rocker. Then it's Toast out of her mind. And now Maggie is preggers, knocked-up by the guy who somehow had all the common sense knocked out of him. Shit. Even if her leg heals, she can't fly for another 7 or so months, and she's probably going to go on maternity leave, which means this frakking interim period is going to be indefinite. Oh, for frakking frak's sake. I am frakking trapped. I am going to drown in a sea of paperwork and suck. My days on the Deck are over. I can't even assist Dom with ship repairs because I have a frakking squadron to run. Frak. Frak. Frak.
Kal continues to be quiet, processing data.
Quinn stares at him quietly, a frown tightening over her lips. "…Well… now you know." That's all she leaves it at, turning upon her crutches and beginning to limp for the door. She doesn't want to stand there any longer and watch him stare at her like she's some stupid freak. So much for getting a friend back. She continues out, unless he somehow stops her, limping as fast as her supports can take her. And that's pretty damn fast — she's gotten good at them!
He doesn't stop her. He scarcely even bats a lash. A feeling of dread washes over him, followed by despair. This baby changes everything. In one fell swoop, he's lost both his freedom and his best friend, for now he is going to be the third wheel instead of the platonic partner. Yes, that fetus has just succeeded in doing what the Cylons never could do — it's destroyed Trask's world. Foundation shaken and rubble rising, the departing Quinn can't be even be seen among all the wreckage.