2237-05-13 - Good in the Bad

Colonel Ryan approaches Tamlin in the aftermath of the marines' disastrous mission.

Date: 2237-05-13

Location: Hangar Deck, //Vanguard//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1019

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Tamlin has not slept, what, between stints in sickbay, sitting beside Beckham's bed until the pain and fear of it made her nearly want to scream, and stomping down to the hangar deck to work, the only way she really has to numb herself. Something...anything to help her not think about the awful reality and the potentially more awful future. Right at the moment, she's sitting on the top hull of one of the vipers, banging away, possibly more forcefully than is strictly required, on a rear fin of a Viper, trying to flatten the metal so that it can be cut off and then re-welded.

Ryan stopped by sickbay to check up on the wounded. When he asked after Tamlin, he was told to try down here, so here he is. It takes him a minute to find her - Vanguard's hangar bay may be only a fraction the size of Galactica's, but it's still big. And then he's making his way over. "Dorn," he calls for her attention, taking in her appearance with a concerned scrutiny.

Bam! BamBamBAM! It might be a job to find her, but the Colonel would certainly be able to hear her long before he got into speaking range. With her ear protection on, his voice comes a bit muffled, so it's the sight of him walking up that clues her in that the voice might want her. The hammer, more of a weighted mallet, really, she sets down, reaching up gloves hands to tug off her ear protection, "Yes, sir." She looks like, well, hell. Her eyes are still red, the skin around them rimmed red as well, the it gets when you've rubbed tissue on your skin until you gave yourself that weird sort of rugburn typically only reserved for people who blow their noses with tissue with no lotion. But she also looks focused. And mostly holding it together. Because she's still a sailor.

Ryan jerks his head to the side, toward a quieter corner of the hangar deck. Not that anywhere on the deck is truly quiet, but it will let them talk with some token amount of privacy without needing to shout at each other. "Walk with me a minute, Dorn," he says. Presuming Tamlin comes along, he says as they walk, "I heard what happened. Anything you need?" He doesn't ask her how she's doing; that much is obvious.

Tamlin will slide down from the back of the viper, after slipping the mallet into a strap off of her toolbelt, because safety first!, following the Colonel's lead, as he finds a place to talk. "I'm not sure there's anything I need you can give me, Colonel, thank you though. Mostly, I suppose I'm wondering when suicide by sniper became a thing. Because those marines were just running out there making themselves targets, when they could have hunkered down in the raptor until we repaired it. I mean, the only one of them who didn't get shot was the reporter, and I threatened to shoot him, so that counts. Right?"

"Well if you do need anything, you let me know," Ryan says. "I hear they're transferring your husband planetside for further treatment later today. I've already arranged with the Chief for you to have a pass to see him through surgery." More surgery, that is, since at least something was done last night. Once they reach the little supply alcove where the munitions are kept, Ryan frowns thoughtfully at Tamlin's words. "From what I understand from the report, the squad pinpointed the sniper's location after the second shot and began returning fire. You think they should have just let it go?"

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate it. I'd like to be there, if anything goes wrong. See him if he wakes up." As Tamlin comes to a halt, she takes a minute considering the question, "Yes, and no. No, I don't think they should have left it there to attack some other group, or whatever else its objectives were. But running out there wasn't smart. They were giving it all of the targets it could possibly want. The team had a sniper, who could have been tasked with getting to an optimal position to try to engage with it. The sniper's entire mission, at least at that moment, was to try to take as many of us down as possible. It wasn't going to just decide to give up its mission. As long as we were there, it was going to be there. And the raptor is a big old ready made piece of cover, they could have used it, and also attacked the sniper from cover, pulling it's attention while our sniper made her way into position. Not to mention that the raptor's rear KEW could have been effective, if we could have maneuvered it once we got it moving again. And a raptor is a hell of a lot harder to shoot than a human being.

Ryan nods, clasping his hands lightly behind his back as he listens to her explanation. "Well, I have only the AAR to go on and I try not to play armchair captain too much. In the moment, taking fire, not knowing if or when the Raptor might be operational, not knowing if the sniper would come down to hunt them or just bug out and find some other unsuspecting target... I understand why they went after it. Grab cover, suppress the target, get someone into a better firing position - that's sound tactics, on paper anyway. You know as well as I do that it's never that simple on the battlefield." He offers a somber smile.

"You at least, actually could be a captain. I'm just a deckie. But there were better options than running out there with no plan, especially when the sniper decided to run full tilt towards the cylon with a grenade. I mean, their Sergeant lead when down, and they didn't even try to regroup, pick a new leader and decide on tactics. Even I know that's not how you run a war. If we tried to do that on the deck, not a single ship would get repaired." She shrugs, "Doesn't matter. It's done. Mostly, everyone came back. Do the Marines count that as a win?"

Ryan's brows knit at that. Apparently 'charging full tilt with a grenade' wasn't the version that made it into the report he saw. It's all perspective. Ryan considers that for a moment. "Well, you know as well as I do this isn't a democracy," he says, offering an easy smile. It could come across as patronizing but he means it to be patient given her state of mind. "Sergeant Calhoun was the senior marine standing. If you think he was seriously remiss in his duties, you're welcome to file your own report. I certainly wouldn't call it a decisive victory, but I didn't see anything in the AAR to raise a red flag."

That said, he segues, "But you've got a sound head on your shoulders, Dorn. Good grasp of tactics. Cool under pressure. Knowledge of explosives and first aid. Corporal Rhodes tells me that Sergeant Jayne probably wouldn't have made it without your help." It's probably evident from his tone that all this flattery is leading up to something, and sure enough. "We need good deckhands, to be sure, but frankly I think your talents are being wasted down here."

Tamlin, momentarily, scrunches up her face. There's some hard thinking going on. "I swear, I have the worst time remembering all of these new Marines. Tall, blonde, rifleman?" A snap of her fingers, "Right, he was the one who took off after the sniper, who took off with the grenade." A shake of her head, "Not my job to second guess you. I just saw what I saw, Colonel. How they choose to report it, and whether or not that leads to more people up in sickbay warming the bed my husband is in right now..." She sets aside the commentary, as she listens, "The Doc is good, and she did most of the work. I just put on a few band-aids. Now, I do enjoy blowing things up, though. The Chief never lets me do that down here." A frown, finally, "Where am I being assigned, Colonel?"

"I haven't met him. And I wasn't there either, Dorn, so my perspective is limited." The latter comment gets another little smile. "It's not an assignment. More of an opportunity. I'm offering you a transfer to the marines. Combat engineer. You'll need to go off for training - a lot of your skills will carry over but there are specialty things we just can't train effectively here. But as I understand it, your husband will probably need some rehab when he makes it through all of this." He's trying to look on the bright side - when, not if. "I can pull some strings and arrange for training close by where he ends up. You don't have to decide right now. I know you've got a lot to deal with. But I wanted to put it out there for you."

"I don't know if you're missing much, Colonel. Apparently, he has prom envy." A beat, "Don't ask." Tamlin considers the comments, and maybe she might need time to think about it, if the decision didn't come with the promise of being able to be closer to her husband while he rehabs. And this is probably why serving in the same or close to the same commands is usually not a good idea. Because it makes you decide to do stupid things. "Beckham actually suggested that, Cate too, after Canceron. I love working the deck. But if felt nice not to be the one being left behind all of the time. Actually being able to go out there and actually do more than be a background player." A sharp, decided nod, "Yes, I think I would like that, as long as they don't end up training me to build bridges and roads all day." Because boring. A grin follows after. "You think the Chief will let me keep my coveralls?"

The mention of prom envy gets a quizzical look from the colonel, but Ryan takes her advice and doesn't ask. He nods when he learns that Beckham and Cate had both suggested the same thing. "I can see why. You seem to have a knack for it. I think it'll be good. You've done a lot for us here -" He waves a hand to encompass the deck. "But I think you can make even more of a difference on the front lines. And anyone who puts you to work building bridges will have me to answer to," he says with a grin. "Actually if I had my way I'd have you both back here. But that's above even my paygrade." He smiles at the last. "I think that can be arranged. I'll put in the orders once you find out where Sergeant Dorn is going. Also give you a few days in case you change your mind."

Tamlin's tone is adamant. "I won't, sir. I want to be where my husband is. And frak anyone who says that makes me a poor sailor. If this is what I need to do to be close to him and see him through the worst of the struggle...even if I end up getting shipped to one end of the war and he the other, I'll pay that price gladly." A grin, at the Colonel's words, "I'll make sure to tell them that, if they hand me some builders' putty and a trowel. Thank you sir, I appreciate what you're doing." Because it's not easy to cut through red tape, and to put the needs of two people, even with ulterior motives, before the immediate needs of the masses, "I'll let you know as soon as I have his final destination." She chucks a finger back towards the deck, "You going out today, Mace? Let me know, I'll get you into the best bus we've got." Pays to have connections on the deck, right? Oh yeah.

Ryan offers a brisk nod. "Sailor or marine, we're all in this together." He smiles at the offer of a Raptor. "Actually yes, I was planning on flying medevac later." He likes to keep in practice, and close to his boys and girls on the front whenever he can. "But as long as it flies, you can save the cream of the crop for the ones at the front. Appreciate it though. Carry on, Dorn. I hope Sergeant Dorn has a speedy recovery."

"We're all Wolves now, Colonel...or you are," seeing how she and the other Dorn are on their way out, "Means you're on the front lines too." A grin, though, as he moves to depart, and he dismisses her, "Gotcha. Only stale pretzels in the go bag." You could have had stale honey-roasted peanuts! "Fly well, Mace." She doesn't say come back, or even be safe...because that's not a guarantee. Not for any of them. And then onward and upward, the tromp tromping of her boots marking Tamlin Dorn's passage back onto the deck. But not for long.

Also...she is SO keeping the coveralls.


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