2237-01-24 - Arms Make the (Wo)Man?

Cate and Tavo talk about the aftermath of the Cylon boarding attempt.

Date: 2237-01-24

Location: Warfare Training Room, Deck 10, Battlestar //Galactica//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 952

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Gustavo has a neat row of helmets on a courtyard bench in front of him, collecting them from Marines as they trail out, "Nice shooting, Michaels." It wasn't. "Remind me to stay right in front of you next time we go dirtside. Safest place to be." The other marine makes a jokingly-rude gesture and comment in return, then turns over his helmet and departs. Tavo snorts and responds, "You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Then starts collecting the helmets in a mesh bag as if they were pyramid balls after practice.

Cate is near the weapons cabinet, resetting the laser tag rifles and tucking them away one by one. She snorts softly at the exchange, though she doesn't entirely hold the high ground on the shooting department. It was all right, but crappy compared to her usual. "Here I thought the safest place was behind you Sarge," she cracks dryly. "Big shield."

"It is, Doc," Tavo confirms. "Just not the safest place for me." More helmets go clonking into the mesh until it's nearly full, almost the size of the big Sergeant, but a whole lot lighter, "You can get behind me too. Because you can stitch me up when I get hit, not because of your shooting scores." And then he looks up to the results displayed on the wall, squinting a little to read them, "Althoooooooough..." The bag of helmets is hefted up and he starts over toward the lockers with them.

"Yeah I guess it's hard to hide behind yourself," Cate says with a weak smirk. "Docs in sickbay get to have all the fun stitching. I just keep you from bleeding out," she clarifies, the smirk turning to a frown briefly. Another rifle goes into the locker. Intent on that, she doesn't see him looking at the scores or seem to catch his meaning, asking, "Although what?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll get hit some time that requires stitching in the field, so don't slack off on me, Doc." Tavo opens a locker and starts hanging helmets on pegs, digging into the bag to get them in turn, "Although you weren't that far ahead of Michaels, were you?" The mesh bag gets tucked under one arm for a moment so he can put out one hand to indicate a given level, "Still above," he puts the other hand out horizontally six inches or so above the first, "the threshold of 'every Marine's a rifleman' though."

"Oh yeah, the Colonel will just love me for that one." After the dry comment, Cate slants him a look when he mentions the scores. She shrugs, frowning. "Can't all be snipers," she says with a forced flippancy.

Tavo shakes his head, chuckling lowly, "Why do you think I use a SAW?" His own marksmanship scores are good, but they're definitely not top-of-the-class good. "And frak the Colonel if she thinks somethin's wrong with having a medic who can stitch you up. Especially with the damned toasters mounting boarding parties now. I want best-in-class service right alongside me if I'm going to be thrown into every shit-show imaginable."

"Here I thought it was just 'cause you were big enough to carry it." Cate puts the last rifle away. "Colonel doesn't think much of medics who don't know their place in the pecking order. So yeah. Frak her." Not really the way one should talk about superior officers, but well, that's not stopping her.

"Nope. That's why I carry the one-shot." Tavo grins toothily at that. The Colonel isn't his superior officer in any flow chart ever made, even if she is a superior officer. "And extra rats. And an extra canteen. Then again, I don't think much of people who don't know their place in the pecking order. Might just be that my pecking order has a different order, since I put folks who can stop me from bleeding pretty frakking high up there."

"So now I know who to bug if we're ever stuck somewhere without supplies," Cate observes. She closes the cabinet and leans back against it. "Hey, I like your order. Drives me nuts that I can't help people as much as I could just because of some dumb-ass box on an organizational chart." She lets out a frustrated sigh.

Gustavo shakes his head, "Hey, I need that extra grub. How do you think I keep my ladylike physique?" He goes back to racking helmets, digging into the bottom of the bag to get the last few. "So what would you be doing if you could do whatever you wanted? I don't figure you'd put yourself in as Colonel, because then you couldn't do the hands-on helping."

"Oh I see how it is," Cate snorts about the food. His question gets a contemplative frown. "I don't give a shit about rank." The frown deepens, and she thunks her head back against the cabinet. "I just wish it was the way it was back at Triton." Words she never thought she'd say after that hellish experience. "It's like... when the Cylons attacked the hangar, there were so many wounded. The clinic was swamped." The slip of referring to it as a clinic may attest to part of her brain being focused on Triton. "So I stepped up. Maybe saved a couple guys. But instead of a thank-you I get a reprimand for exceeding my scope of practice. I'm a godsdamned doctor, not some EMT who watched a few hospital vids."

"Hmmmm." Tavo's thoughtful hum is a low rumble, even though his voice usually rises above that pitch. "Rank has its place. And a damn good one. You've got to hop to under fire or you get things like deckies running into a deathtrap under fire and dragging the rest of us with them." He shrugs that off again as he shuts the locker and folds the mesh bag carefully. Studying the medic silently for a long time, he nods, "That's bullshit. In a crisis, everyone pitches in. They should have sent some of them over to you. If they were around, then frak them if they want you to stand by and do nothing."

"No, I know. I meant I don't care about being a higher rank. More paperwork, more responsibility - no thank you." Cate nods. "Yeah, like hell am I going to just sit back and watch some poor kid suffocate when I can do a chest tube. If they wanna write me up for that then write me up. It just pisses me off. The whole thing just pisses me off." She sighs again.

Tavo leans back against the locker, crossing his arms loosely over his chest as he listens. "Seeing people get hurt pisses you off, doesn't it?" After a heartbeat, he adds, "That why you became a doctor in the first place?"

The question seems to give her pause, but then Cate shakes her head. "No. Having people tell me I can't do things I should be allowed to do pisses me off. Obviously I'm really well suited to the military." After that dry remark, she says more seriously. "Seeing innocent people getting hurt pisses me off. I mean, if you've got a gun in your hand and you're fighting... you're fair game. But unarmed deckhands, civilians... kids... that pisses me off. The Toasters don't give a frak."

"Nope, they don't," Tavo agrees. "That's why I don't have a problem taking them apart. Not like people." Still, he nods more slowly, reaching up to scratch at a cheek thoughtfully, "I wonder if we should have unarmed deckhands anymore. I haven't gotten a hold of the after-action-reports, would it have helped to have sidearms issued? So it wasn't all down to the alert squad?"

Cate shrugs a little. "Sidearms don't do a hell of a lot against Centurions. There were a bunch of pilots plunking away at them too. I mean it happened so fast..." A little shudder of memory there. "I don't think most of the people who got gunned down in the first few seconds would've even had time to draw their guns. And a sidearm doesn't help you when a Raptor explodes and scatters pieces of you all over the deck." She bites her lower lip there for a moment then shrugs. "But after Triton, and that -- if I had my way, I'd wear a pistol 24/7."

Tavo nods slowly, "Sometimes ARs don't even do a hell of a lot against them. But still, putting pistol rounds into a Cylon is at least going to keep it busy while someone with a real weapon takes it down, right?" He grunts slowly, "And I don't think 24/7s a good idea. I've seen enough arguments around the rec room, the pyramid courts, or the rings to not want people armed there, but on duty? Maybe I'll kick it up the chain to the El-Tee, see what he thinks. Raptors... well, that shit's a bigger problem. Something the techies need to fix. Hell, I probably won't have to worry about it long. The way my luck runs, my next ride planetside will blow with me in it."

"Dunno. Like I said, most of them probably wouldn't have gotten a shot of anyway. And maybe we oughta stay off the same Raptor, if your luck's as bad as mine." Cate pushes herself off the cabinet. "I should get a shower and some food." And some rest too, though she leaves that one off.

Tavo grunts affirmation, "Makes people feel good though. Morale's important too." Especially when it's in the crapper. He nods again though, "Yeah. Get the stink off and get some grub and shut-eye." He's not shy about that. "I'd move my bunk to the armory, but they'd just find some way to board there next. See you 'round, Doc."

Cate nods. "Yeah, they probably would." Cate acts like she didn't hear the comment about shut-eye. "See you around, Sarge." She heads off.


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