PHD #352: Opinions and A-Holes
PHD #352: Opinions and A-Holes
Summary: Everyone has them both. In this case, the a-holes have opinions.
Date: 13 Feb 2042 AE
Related Logs: Enter the Swarm, Enter the Swarm 2: Return of the Swarm, & Enter the Swarm 3: Bride of the Swarm
Referenced: Why This Plan Is Teh Suq (Catfish)
Khloe Trask 
Repair Bay - Hangar Deck - Battlestar Cerberus
When engines need to be rebuilt or other heavy but short-term work needs to be done, this is where it happens. Large, red hand-mobile cranes are situated along the wall beside stacks of toolchests. Carts with various computers and electronics are dispersed around the area for quick access. A very conspicuous yellow locker at the rear holds a sizable amount of firefighting gear, as well. Sturdy metal stands are available to hold all sorts of parts from gun systems to the FTL drives of a Raptor. Big enough to accommodate quite a few Vipers and Raptors at once, this area see's extensive use and is usually attended by at least one crew at all hours of the day and night.
Post-Holocaust Day: #351

Three skirmishes with swarms in three consecutive days. The Deck certainly has been busier than usual. Apart from the mandatory administrative work that is required of an SL, Trask has been holed up in the Repair bay. Meals consist of protein bars. Naps are taken in the Heavy Raider. Bathing? Why bother? After a while, deckhands become scent blind to such things. And there's no need for PT with so much physical labor. After taking all the detailed photographs, measurements, and examinations that he could of the newest Raider's exterior, he's resumed the heavy work of repairing birds.

Picking her way carefully through the repair bay, right arm guarding her right side from any unwanted bumps or grazings, comes Poppy. "You know, Kal, most human beings have pictures of other human beings for this kind of pleasure. I'm not sure the deckies are going to appreciate those love stains you left on the Raider." Some dry humor, and she's not smiling, but the gesture is the same. "What is your fascination with these frakked up flying toasters? It's just goo in a can, right now." The Knights SL approaches where he's working, but gives the Raider plenty of berth; her path is a wide arc around the dead machine.

"They're just jealous," is the glib reply. "You, though… Well, everyone knows you're a hater." Ordinarily, he would bat his lashes in a cheeky manner, but that's pretty pointless considering that he's wearing safety goggles. "And they're just goo in a can, right now." As if that explains his fascination. "Got your memo. Not what I was expecting." Even while he converses, Kal continues to work.

"I've more thoughts on the matter," Khloe offers, apparently choosing to diverge away from what passes as witty banter between the two. "Drips seems to think that your Harriers performed admirably in the third attack. Something about how having added ECM made things a bit more manageable. Nobody landed straight in sickbay this time." A pause, as she watches the man working on some manner of aeronautics guts. "If we strategize specifically to deal with these three-hash Raiders, I think we can reduce losses even further. Old tactics are just going to wear us down."

For someone as task oriented and precise as Poppy, watching Bootstrap work could be considered a thing of beauty. Not in the sweaty, sexy, manly eye candy sort of way because this is Khloe, after all, although there /is/ that. No, it has to do with the swiftness and skill in which he works. It is an economy of motion and a finesse, nothing wasted and nothing overlooked. There is a definite love in what he does and a surety of knowing /exactly/ what he's doing. The wrench is an extension of his body in the way a pilot would view their bird. "Bubbles is up and about sooner than I anticipated. How's Hosedown?" A glance to the other Captain, and more wrenching. "What'cha have in mind? I admit, I really haven't had a chance to review the footage." Poppy can do that, and he's of decided use repairing ships.

"Hosedown is progressing, but I suspect she'll be out of things, realistically, for a month, minimum. But I'm no doctor, so, what do I know." Khloe crosses her left arm across her midsection, hooking her hand around her opposite elbow; the arm still protects her side carefully, although she's in no danger of bumping into anything. She must still hurt, a lot, and with her unwillingness to take morpha or any other narcotics, she's probably in constant pain. "Bubbles, I'm surprised is up and functional already. I would have given her at least a week. But, again, not a doctor." Shrugging her good shoulder, she adds: "Instead of two Vipers to one Raptor, make it an even four. Two and two. Added ECM on the field early may help us get the technical advantage we need. After all, they're flying, swarming bricks, basically. Flying stupid."

"If it were up to me, we'd be running double-CAPs. The Areion, too. And more people on Alert status." It's not up to him, however. "I have no problem with what you're proposing. What says the CAG?" Still not pausing in the repairs. "And please be so kind to elaborate on what you mean by flying stupid. It comes in so many flavors."

"I wanted to ask your opinion, first, Captain," says Khloe, putting a little extra weight on the rank. She smirks slightly. "You know, you're authority around here, now. Just like me. Reluctant authority. So I suppose our opinions are supposed to mean something. But yeah, I wanted your thought before I proposed anything to Toast." A pause. "These three-hash Cylons are slower, aim poorer, and just… swarm. Attack in a blob. They're not as skilled or precise as the Cylons we've fought in the past. Flying stupid."

Reluctant authority, no doubt. At least Trask had about 8 months to prepare himself for those Captain pins. "Good thing I have strong shoulders." He's in it, now. It's over and done. And it's the Taurian way to carry the load and carry on. "Well, my opinion, since it's being solicited," which actually amuses him because he's never one to wait for such a solicitation, "is double CAP and more on Alert until we figure out how the frak they're tracking us, UNLESS," a pause perhaps for effect or simply because he's examining his work, "we preemptively jump. So far, they've been attacking around the same time. No idea if that's intentional or simply 'cuz that's how long it takes them to find us. The issue with all that jumping, though, is that it's a crapshoot. Odds are small that we'd land where they already are, but it's still possible."

"Catfish probably has some plan that we're not seeing yet, but I'm sure whatever he's up to, it's good," Khloe says, referring to Pewter in the so-dubbed nickname that Trask gave him several weeks back in a stunning illustration. "If you like, I can bring your opinion to the CAG, or we can meet with her together. Either way it'll be up to her, but I was just thinking about different options to keep us from repeated shredding."

"I'm pretty sure he prefers Gravel." Although /he/ certainly has no problem with Catfish. With those goggles on, though, the rascally gleam in his eyes can't really be seen. "And I make no claims to understand Command. My job is to simply take an asinine proposal and /somehow/ make it work." Bootstrap smirks. "Feel free to take it to Toast, though. She knows where to find me."

Khloe nods sharply. "Right. Thanks for your time, Boots." And with that, Poppy ambles slowly off.

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