PHD #070: Grunt Work
Grunt Work
Summary: Cidra prowls the damaged fabrication facility, while Laskaris does some grunt work before he's due to ship out for the Leonis mission.
Date: 07 May 2041 AE
Related Logs: It Will Come When It Will Come
Cidra Laskaris 
Aerospace Facility - Deck 11 - Battlestar Cerberus
The fourth largest single room on the Cerberus, the Aerospace Facility actually appears larger than the Galley because there isn't a kitchen. The only separate area is a large cage at the rear that contains all the cutting, welding, and air tools necessary for assembling nearly anything. Although primarily for assembling new Vipers and Raptors or fixing large parts of current ones, just about anything on the ship can be fixed here. Raised areas of the deck stand in for tables and an intricate crane system runs along the ceiling to move anything too heavy for crews to situate on their own. On both the port and starboard sides of the room are huge elevators that drop down into the floors for projects to travel to and from the Hangar Decks.
Post-Holocaust Day: #70

Cidra is on one of her walk-throughs of the aerospace facility. Part of her weekly routine. Not that the Engineering petty officer who's kind enough to give her the latest run-down is telling her anything new, really. Fabrication is down, heavily damaged by the Cylons in their boarding of the Cerberus, and will remain so into the coming week. If not longer. Signs of ongoing repairs, technicians in green coveralls and machines with their guts hanging out, are all around them, so Cid keeps to the outskirts. To avoid getting in the way.

According to the duty schedule, Laskaris is off right now. The paperwork is caught up, and he's not scheduled for CAP, yet despite that(or perhaps because of it — who's to know?) he's here. There's plenty of debris still to be picked up after all, and his helping with that frees up a skilled hand for more complex work. Clad in his offduties, Lasher's attention seems to be a million miles away as he picks up a scorched piece of metal, and with a grunt tosses it into a nearby refuse bin.

Cidra notes Laskaris as she passes him. She can't precisely miss one of her pilots mucking about in the technical zone. She comes up near his work area and just pauses. Watching him in silence for a moment before speaking. "I thank you, Petty Officer, I think I have gotten the rough idea of how things are going. You need to get back to work, I am sure." The Engineering minion scurries away. Cidra remains. Clearing her throat in an "Ahem" to Laskaris proper.

Sweat- and soot-streaked arms reach down to pick up another piece of metal - a thin piece of latticework almost as long as Lasher is tall. When he turns to dump it in the bin, he notices Cidra standing there watching him. A glance at her, then to the refuse. "Major." He grunts a greeting, of sorts. Arms flex and jaws tighten as he flings that piece into the bin after the rest of them. He doesn't move to pick up another one right away, though, as he wipes sweat from his brow and looks at Cidra.

Cidra shifts her eyes about but, as the technicians are allowing Laskaris to muck about without bothering him, she presumes he's gotten proper permission to be here. "Lasher," she greets in kind. "How does it go? Slowly, from what I hear. They tell me it is fixable, but it shall be weeks yet before it is up and working properly."

"Not sure, Major, I'm just here to do a little grunt work," Lasher intones roughly, wiping his hands against the legs of his pants. His voice is as distant as his eyes were a moment ago, even as he turns his attention to the CAG. "'S about what I hear, too, though. Toasters did a number on the place. We should all be glad the blighters weren't so thorough in the CIC." His lip curls slightly at that. "Figured I'd see if there anything I could do. Turns out there was, in fact." As if to demonstrate, he picks up another, smaller piece of burnt metal debris and tosses it in the scrap bin. He looks away from Cidra as he says that last, though.

"That is for the good," Cidra says simply, as to doing what one can. "It should be mostly a matter of fine machinery repairs past this point, however, if what the petty officer says is true. So we've mostly little to do but what. And try to get birds enough salvaged from the surface of Leonis to give us a proper complement of planes again. You are going on that op, yes?"

"Good," Lasher replies with a short, caustic chuckle. "Was starting to forget how much I usually hate doing this sort of thing." A rueful smile, and then Lasher steps away from the pseudo-dumpster full of scrap metal. He nods at the question. "You kidding? Rabid bloody dogs couldn't keep me away from this one." A pause for effect. "Even if it involves a bus ride." Lasher is, after all, no fan of Raptor trips. Common enough among Viper jocks.

An ever-so-faint smirk comes to Cidra's lips. "I have always wondered why Viper pilots are so touchy when being taxied in one of my beasts. My theory is that it has to do with the loss of control. No pilot likes sitting back while someone else jockeys the cockpit, after all." It's an observation that requires no response from him, really. As to Leonis, she nods short. "We have had no shortage of volunteers. I did not quite expect it." There is a certain amount of pride in her voice. And an undercurrent of something else. Worry, perhaps? As ever, it's hard to tell with her.

"Hnh." Cidra's observation seems to have hit the mark at least where Lasher is concerned, if his grunt and curt nod of agreement is any indication. He shrugs a second later. "Been too long since I had ground under my feet," is the only reason he offers. "Well. Unless you count that 24-hour layover on Leonis before I reported aboard. Which I'm not." Laskaris doesn't waste any time trying to read into her tone; he's figured out it's generally pointless to try. Maybe not the best Triad face in the fleet, but damn close. "More people go, the more shit we can bring back an' the quicker we can do it," he theorizes. "Especially after that godsdamn… 'accident'— " Yes, the quotes are audible. "— in the hangar bay. Damn birds're dropping like flies. We don't start replacin' 'em, won't have anything left for me and mine but rocks, space suits, and directions to the nearest airlock we can throw 'em from."

"Back to Leonis we go, yes…" Cidra murmurs. More to herself than him. "The serpent coils…" All right, then. She clears her throat again. "I envy you in a way. It shall be dangerous, but it is our best hope for any sort of future right now." Her lips thin to a level frown at his mention of the accidents. "Shiv's Viper. Jugs' Raptor last night. It is a list of 'accidents' that is becoming quite telling, I do think. I have heard not from the MPs about their investigation into that Viper incident yet, but I do hope they shall get to the bottom of it soon. We have to little left to throw what remains away."

"Enough to make you wonder if 'accidents' is all they are," Laskaris mutters darkly, more to himself than Cidra though certainly loud enough for her to hear. A heavy, brow-knotted look to the CAG follows. "Anyone stopped to think as maybe they're not accidents?" he finally asks her directly. "Frak's sake. They called in the godsdamn bomb squad when Shiv's Viper went up. Someone doesn't just accidentally drop a frakkin' block of G4 under a Viper's wing. Or call in the demo crew for an accident." He shakes his head.

"The MPs are not investigating because they seem ordinary malfunctions, Captain," Cidra says simply. If she was implying it in what she said before, she states it more flatly now. "As I did say, I hope the cause is found soon. I shall make no accusations until I have a proper direction to point my finger. But it must be gotten to the bottom of soon."

Lasher shrugs defensively. "I know. I know. Their job. Not mine." What he's not so strong on is when to let things go, it seems. "Just… It sure as shit wasn't an accident, and it wasn't a bleedin' frakup either. Only two alternatives I can consider are… well, both things that I'd just as soon not consider, if you get my meaning, sir." He doesn't elaborate further, Cidra's point finally taken.

"You have given a statement to the personnel investigating, I trust? It rankles, I know. But, we cannot always be in control." A little wry. Cidra turns then. "I leave you to it, Captain. I have some final notes to prepare before I see the lot of you off to Leonis. Get some rest at some point before you ship out. You shall likely need it." And off she goes.

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