In the first few days, they find more refugees, more survivors. A ship here, a shuttle there – the ships are generally useless except for spare parts, but the people are welcome. Looking over the latest population reports, Lee notes that a surprising number of the recently found are Fleet – command staff and support staff and mechanics. Not one pilot, though, and he wonders how many bodies are floating out there, somewhere, tangled up in the wreckage of Vipers and Raptors. Easy targets, he thinks. Too many easy targets. * Fleet refugees get integrated with the crew, and in the few quiet moments, Dee finds herself training new CIC staff on the Galactica's systems. "We've got to help these people function with the whole," Commander Adama had said, when he'd assigned her the duty. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, though, Dee is finding herself increasingly annoyed. "So clunky," says Lieutenant Salzar, as she looks over the communications control. "I don't know how you can stand to work with these outdated systems. This ship is old." "Yeah, well there was a reason it was being decommissioned," Dee snaps out, before she can stop herself. "Hey, no offense, petty officer." She smile as she speaks, perfunctory and false. Dee narrows her eyes and takes a deep breath, absently smoothing her hand over the familiar lines of the console. Rank, rank, rank, and Salzar seems to already have forgotten that they'd pulled her ass out of the fire when they found her escape shuttle drifting. "None taken, lieutenant," she replies, and moves on to the next task. * Billy should have guessed that there would be political strategists and flunkies among the survivors of the attacks. After all, he's one of them. And being what they are, he should have known that they would flock to the centre of power and petition the president for a job, a position, some security. Something. Now he has stacks of files to go through – dossiers on applicants, and whatever security checks they've been able to conduct. Some of the names he's familiar with – people he met when he first started working, or names he once saw attached to government reports. He'd never expected to be interviewing them for a coveted spot on the president's staff. Now, smiling as genuinely as he can, he looks up from his notes and says, "Well, Ms – "Call me Tori," she interrupts. "Right. Well, Tori, at this point the president doesn't have much work she can offer you. I'm sure you can appreciate that her staff needs are limited." "Of course," Tori says smoothly. "I expected as much. I simply wanted to bring myself to her attention." And she has. Billy has heard of her only peripherally, but what he's heard isn't all good. She's organized and smooth, but ruthless and willing to cut corners. Some of her actions border on unethical. Many of them are questionable. He'll include these things in his assessment, when he briefs the president. "Perhaps during any upcoming election preparation," she continues. "Perhaps," he agrees, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. * Somehow, taking stock of food resources has fallen to Felix. This means twice-weekly checks on the commissary, taking note of what is being depleted too quickly, what doesn't seem to get consumed, and the rate of supply attrition. They lose food to meals, of course, but containers break, and food is contaminated during attacks; small things tend to go missing. The food stores are now probably the most heavily guarded commodities on Galactica. One more thing, he thinks has he heads down towards food storage. There's always one more thing to deal with. He's met by the head cook. "Ready?" he asks. "Ready," the cook – Kay – responds. He brings out his own copy of supply records, and together, they start walking through the stores. It's almost predictable – spices are rapidly dwindling, as are frozen fruits and vegetables. Meat protein is being carefully rationed, supplemented by vegetable protein. It doesn't help that Galactica's stores had been limited at the time of the attack. Grains are low, but based on Felix's calculations, they aren't low enough. He doesn't remember consuming any fewer grains in the last couple of days. For that matter, the frozen vegetables stores should be lower too. "Why do we have so many grains and vegetables? You're not stinting the lower ranks, are you?" Kay just looks offended. "I don't frakking thinks so. Sir." The last word is clearly added as an afterthought. "So?" He shrugs. "We picked up a new staff member, refugee from the Achilles. He's had some good ideas for making things stretch out. Maintains the nutrient needs, but reduces waste." He grins. "And we've tried out some new recipes too. Felix nods and makes a note of it at the bottom of his records. "I didn't know we'd picked up new commissary staff," he says as he writes. "Yep. Finally got through the security check a few days ago. It's good to have an extra set of hands. And new ideas." Grinning, Felix says, "And new recipes. Not that I'm tired of yours." "Of course not, sir. You know better than that." They continue updating records until they walk around a corner to find a tall man bending over cans of beans and tomatoes. "Ah," Kay says, gesturing. "This is the new man I told you about." Felix holds out his hand and gets a warm, firm handshake in return. "Lieutenant Gaeta. I hear you have some revolutionary ideas." The man grins at him, surprisingly genuine and almost familiar. "Not revolutionary. I just know how to stretch things out. Years of practice, you might say. And I'm Simon." "Keep up the good work," Felix says, and together, he and Kay move on to the next set of shelving. * Seelix grits her teeth and smiles hard at the new deck hand, Kavan. "If you do it that way, Chief Tyrol will go ballistic." This isn't the first time she's had to say something to Kavan, and he doesn't seem to be listening. "Remember what I told you. Red line first, then yellow, and then hook up the diagnostic." Kavan rolls his eyes. "Do it that way and the red line just mucks up the –" She stops listening to his words, but she can't block out the supercilious rise and fall of his voice. Why is it always her? Why couldn't Kavan have been assigned to Jammer or Socinus? When he stops talking, she reaches out and grabs his overalls in her fist. "Just do it the way I told you. The way the Chief wants it done." "We didn't do it that way on the Ulysses –" The Ulysses. He's always going on about the Ulysses. Letting go of his overalls, she pushes him away slightly. "This isn't the frakking Ulysses, OK? You do things our way now." He half-nods at her, and she knows this won't be the last of it. With some people, it never is. |
| Characters:
Lee, Dee, Billy, Seelix, Gaeta Words: About 1000 Summary: In the first few days, they find more refugees. Note: A few snippets about integrating new people to the Galactica. Set in early s1. Slight spoilers for s2. |