2237-02-22 - Drowning After Triage

Cate sneaks into the Officers' Club. She finds Calliope medicating after the mass casualty incident on base. Mostly with alcohol.

Date: 2237-02-22

Location: Cate sneaks into the Officers' Club. She finds Calliope medicating after the mass casualty incident on base. Mostly with alcohol.

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 962

Jump to End

The Officer's Club. A club for officers, which Cate is not. And yet that hasn't stopped her from getting in here somehow. Maybe it helped that she's wearing her sweatpants, which lack any identifying rank insignia. It's still kind of early in the evening, so the place isn't crowded yet. Everything was going great until a balding officer walks in. Cate was over by the pool table, smiling and chatting with a couple Canceron flyboys who she just beat. When she spies the newly-arrived officer moving to a table, she excuses herself from the pilots and heads to the side of the room opposite the new officer. As it happens - that's the bar, near where Calliope is sitting. Coming up from behind the Raptor pilot, there's a moment's hesitation where she considers her options. Then she plunks down in the seat next to Calliope. "Hey Bullseye," she greets with a friendly smile, like there's absolutely nothing unusual about her being here. She sets her drink down on the bar.

Calliope is an officer. A clubbing one, at the moment. Well, a drinking one. She's off-duty at the moment. She was given a day by her CO to see if any fever symptoms popped up. She's spending it productively. Meaning, she is drinking. She's got a glass of something amber colored. It's half-full and, from the look in her eyes, is not her first one of whatever-it-is. "Uh." That is her first response to her callsign. Turn. Blue-eyed blink at Cate. "Hi." More blinking. "Are you here?" That might not have made sense.

Not one of the reactions Cate had planned for. She squints a bit, looking confused. "Is that a trick question? Or maybe some kind of deep philosophical thing?" She pushes her empty glass at the bartender and says, "I'll have one of those. It seems to be pretty effective."

"Are you supposed to be here...?" That's the most strenuous Calliope gets about objecting to Cate's presence, though. She shrugs and takes another sip of her drink. "It's local. I can't pronounce the name. It's kind of like ambrosia only with more...burning. Actually, it's not like ambrosia at all."

Cate looks amused by the rephrasing. "Not really," she admits easily. "But there's booze here. Plus, I'm not sure you can say a Hibernian is "supposed to be" anywhere on Canceron really. So... it's all relative." She thanks the bartender, and takes an experimental sip of the new drink. "Mmm yeah. I see what you mean." A beat. "How're you doing? I saw you helping out with the triage yesterday."

"I'm Caprican. I'm not supposed to be here, either. Are any of us supposed to be here?" More philosophy. Sip sip. Calliope shrugs when Cate asks how she's doing. "Fine. I mean. Totally fine. Like. I'm an officer, right?" That was more of a question than the probably intended it to be. "It's not like I didn't see frakked up shit on Tauron. So. Fine. And I haven't died of jungle plague or whatever the frak that stuff is. So...I'm great?"

"Probably not. I mean, with all those creepy crawlies in the jungle and the rain and everything, I'm not sure even the Cancerons are supposed to be here really." Cate raises her eyebrows at Calliope's response. "I dunno, I've met some pretty frakked up officers. Though hey, if being an officer is supposed to mean you can drag dead kids out of rubble and pick up people's legs and be Totally Fine, sign me the hell up for that." Cate's mouth twists wryly, then she hoists her glass to Calliope before taking another drink. "Cheers for missing out on the jungle plague. I hear that's a bitch."

"Yeah. Cheers." Calliope raises her glass, and drinks some more. Then orders another. Because why not? "I guess I missed it? I mean, I feel OK. Maybe a little light-headed." She blinks in mild panic. Her hang-over might make her majorly panic tomorrow. But that's a ways off. "Do you think that little girl's going to make it? The one Butch...uh...that medic guy? I can't really remember his real name. He's annoying. The one he was carrying to the doctor after we all landed?"

"Probably just this whatever-the-frak it's called going to your head," Cate says, tilting her glass and scrutinizing it. "The girl with the fever? Yeah I think she's doing okay. I don't know anybody named Butch, but I think you mean Kovac. Tall, dark hair, cool tattoos, super hot, kind of an asshole sometimes."

"Kind of an asshole. Yeah. That's him. Thank gods." Calliope releases a breath. "I mean, not that he's an asshole. But that the girl's going to be okay. How are you doing with...it? All of it. I mean, that was pretty frakked up." She paws her new drink when it's delivered, but doesn't start right in on it. She just kind of stares at it.

"He's a good medic though. Fearless. I'd have him with my squad any day. He kinda reminds me of a pilot friend of mine, back on Picon. Only he was pretty awesome." A sad but fond smile accompanies that musing. Cate grows somber at the latter question. "I dunno. 'Pretty frakked up' is kinda the new normal, I guess." She runs her finger along the rim of her glass idly, frowning at it. "Explosion mass casualties always bring back bad memories."

"There were just so many..." Calliope shudders, running her off-hand through her short blonde hair. Her other leaves the drink, fumbling in her pockets for her cigarettes. It takes some effort, but she's still vaguely coordinated enough to light one up. "You from Picon? Or Hibernia?" Things Cate said before come together in her brain without connecting. "Milk Man's said a little about what Picon was like after the fall. Frak. I mean. Frak everywhere, right?"

"Yeah. So many," Cate agrees with a solemn sympathy. She gulps down some of that burny amber drink, and then answers the question. "I'm from Hibernia. I was on Picon when the war started. Was supposed to be a vacation with my best friend." A scoffing noise attests to how well that turned out. "I was in Hyperion with Milkman. That's when I first started fighting. We were cut off, they were short of medics, so they let me go out with the marines to help." Another gulp of the drink. "What about you? Where were you when this all started?"

"My daddy's frakking cruise ship," is Calliope's answer to that. She takes another drink. "I mean. My dad had this company that did, like, pleasure trips between the worlds. I worked for him. There wasn't much of a human crew aboard, really. Pilot, co-pilot, some techs and service people, but a lot of it was automated. And. Well. Cylon." Drink.

Cate tilts her head curious at the revelation that Bullseye's dad had an entire cruise ship. "Ship full of Cylons - that must've been a mess. But you made it out, at least."

"Yeah. We managed to barricade ourselves into the flight control room. The crew and the passengers who were left." Perhaps not many of them, from her tone. "Depressurized the rest of the ship. Woosh!" She puts down her drink, to take up her cigarette again. "Was close enough to Caprica to put us down somewhere we could scramble off. We were lucky, I guess. Luckier than most. At least I wasn't at home waiting for a morning shave from my Cylon manservant. Now that was a frakking mess."

Cate listens, her grim frown catching the implication of how few survived. "Yeah, that sucks. Good thinking though." She swirls her drink around a little before taking another sip. The manservant story gets a frowning wince. "Gods, that sounds horrible. Your home?"

Calliope shakes her head. "I barely had a home for the last few years. Except for the liner. I had a condo I barely saw the inside of. I think I felt more at home when I was in port on Leonis, but..." Shrug. "...that's frakked up now, too. I never had a personal Cylon. My dad did, though. Replaced his whole domestic staff with them." Drink drink. "Estate was a frakking mess when we got there. At least it was quick. I hope. Quicker than a bomb, I guess."

Cate shakes her head, hissing softly, "Those bastards. I'm sorry." She finishes off her drink and sighs. "I don't really have a home either. My lease ran out while I was trapped on Picon. Landlord let my cousin get my stuff, at least. She was checking on the place for me. Taking care of my cat. Their cat now," she admits, sighing again.

"My mom's still got her apartment in West Cap City. It's kind of hilarious. The neighborhood really went to shit after people started using toasters. Who wants to pay a person to do a job a piece of metal can do, right? But it was in about the best shape of anywhere in the city, after everything fell apart. I used to hate going back there. Only home I've got left now." Calliope watches the smoke rise from her cig. "You have a cat? Awww. I never could keep pets. Never felt like I was responsible enough." She snorts. "What's its name? The cat?"

Cate nods slightly. "Well, you've still got that place at least. And your mom. I mean, hopefully she's cool." A sad smile answers the question about the cat. "Herman. Actually he was my ex-boyfriend's. But he kinda bailed on both of us, so I inherited him. My cousin took him in when I didn't come back from Picon after a few weeks. She figured I was dead. I mean - who can blame her, with the news out of Hyperion. Anyway, she's got two daughters - sends me pictures of them with Herman sometimes. He ended up in a good place."

"She's OK." Calliope smiles some, about her mother. She chuckles soft. "Boyfriends were also too much work. I'm glad your cat's doing well." She sounds very, randomly, earnest about it. "So." She tilts her head at Cate, through her smoke and her amber-drink haze. "Why are you in here? I mean, it's cool. I won't tell." She is way past telling people things. "But you are so not an officer. I've learned what the pips mean! They made me learn that!"

"I have had, like, epically bad luck with boyfriends, so you'll get no argument from me on that score," Cate agrees with a snort. She plays around with her empty glass, tilting it this way and that in a contemplative fashion. Calliope's question get a grin and a little chuckle. "I told you - there's booze in here. And it's a stupid frakking rule. I mean, what - officers are better than enlisted, so they should be the only ones who get to play pool and drink good booze? It's bullshit." She squints at the glass a little. "Bullshit rules and me don't get along."

"There's not an enlisted club?" Calliope is as indignant about this as one can be, mellow as she is. "Lame. We all need to drink. Like, non-stop. Whenever we can." Speaking, she finishes off more of her latest amber thingy. "I mean, we earn it. We did good on Tauron, right?" She says it like she's not sure. "And we're doing good here...right? It's just...I wonder sometimes. The Cylons don't get frakking jungle fever. They don't get tired. They don't freak out because a kid's crying or their family died or whatever. Like...how do you beat that? You know? They can just frak with our heads, and they'll always be machines..."

Cate points a finger at Calliope as if to say you nailed it. "Exactly. So... here I am." She smirks. "Signed in as 'Doctor Rhodes'. He didn't ask me what my rank was." He being the guy at the door intended to keep rifraff like her out. "But yeah - we're doing good. Any day you don't get massacred is a bonus in my book." The latter question causes her to frown in consideration. "Maybe we can't. But we can at least give 'em hell for as long as we're breathing. Go down fighting. Make the war cost too much for them." A grim smirk. "Hibernians specialize in unwinnable wars." She sighs at her glass. "I'm really tempted to break my rule and get super frakking drunk." Despite saying that, she doesn't signal the bartender for another glass.

"Capricans specialize in Cylons," Calliope says with a wince. "Sorry about that. Know your enemy, I guess. But. Yeah. Go down fighting. I'll drink to that." And she does. Finishing her latest. She considers the empty glass, in a blurry sort of way. "Hmm." Considers ordering another. But does not. "Anyway. I should go home. Or bunk. Bunk is home. I think I'm off medical sometime tomorrow afternoon and...ugh. Well. Got to keep fighting."

"I should get out of here too before Captain WhatsHisName over there sees me. Wouldn't want to blow my cover - then it'd be harder to get in next time," she says with an impish grin. "You're pretty cool, Bullseye." She honestly has no idea what the other woman's actual name is. "Hope you stay plague-free."

"I'll do my best! Later. Watch out for WhatsHisName." Calliope gets up from her stool, unsteadily, and winds her way out. She'll find her bed. Eventually.


Back to Scenes