Gizmos and Guns
Gizmos and Guns
Summary: Two Genesis newbies, Leandros and Rebecca, meet Rhea and Reed.
Date: 99 ACH
Related Logs: None.

Main Engineering Genesis - Deck 8
99 ACH 23797 Souls

Main Engineering is staffed by the Chief Engineer and his or her crew. There are enough monitors, flashing lights, back-up generators, consoles and various other areas to man the battlestar and keep it in top form at all times. Storage areas, locked areas, pipes, machinery and tools are all around the area. The desk of the ChEng sits in an area where it is the quietest so work can be done.

The evening shift is just starting in Engineering. Techs who're going off duty rotate out, filling in duty logs and returning tool kits before they turn in. Those coming on are checking the rosters, to see what work needs to be done, and picking up those kits for their own use. The main engine room buzzes along with the beehive-like current of activity that it always does. Rhea has just emerged from the FTL drive assembly room. She removes her blackened work gloves, idly stretching as she clomps back toward a console.

First day reporting to duty. Really, someone should be a lot cleaner when they do such a thing, but Jacob Leandros has already managed to get dirty in just walking down here. His hands have grease under the nails as the tall man heads into the department, inquiring with someone as to who the Chief Engineer is. Pointed her way, he heads for her and stops a few feet off, bringing up a well-practiced salute. "Major Zimmermann?"

Rhea is looking decidedly greasy herself. There's even a black smudge on her forehead. Probably from running her blackened work gloves across her brow. Her hands are still clean, though, having been gloved, and they're currently adjusting some settings on the secondary sublight console unit. The sound of her name makes her look up, though. She straightens, acknowledges the salute and gets the "As you were" done as quickly as possible. "I'm Major Zimmermann, yes. I'm going to assume you're here to work. You don't look like you're just taking in the scenery."

"No, sir. If I'm going to do anything with the scenery, it's fixing it." Leandros looks tempted to smile, but doesn't quite. "Chief Petty Officer Jacob Leandros. Just finished up orientation."

Rhea does crack a crooked smile at that. The name gets a nod. "Leandros. Right. I recognize the name. Got your personnel file. Finny, take over here." She motions to an engineering officer lurking in the background, before leaving her console. "C'mon. Let's get the paperwork out of the way so we can get you to laboring." With that, she heads desk-wards.

Leandros follows Rhea towards said paperwork, sliding dirty hands into pockets. "If this is the sheet that says I donate any severed limbs to science or galley, I've already done that one."

Rhea barks a short laugh. "You think I'd like the cooks take valuable scrap like that? No, Chief, blood greases the engines down here. Revolutionary new hyperlight technology. Saves on fuel. Kind of painful, though. Grab a chair." She motions to the chair-on-wheels within easy grabbing distance of her desk. She takes a seat on the other side of it. She has to rifle through her piles to find Leandros' file, but it's in a place that seems to be slated for important work, so it doesn't take her too long to find. It's under a kiddy plaster handprint. "So, you're coming to us off the Carina, I see." She hands the file to him, so he can get to signing and initially all the little lines.

Leandros sets the file down on the edge of her desk. He does sit down, if only because if he didn't he'd be towering over her. Sign, sign, initial, initial, flip. "Yeah. Coming off hiatus, guess you could say."

Rhea nods, approving of that. "I scanned your service record. That'll make things easier, at least. Navy life can be a shock to your system if you've never been knocked around by it before. You served on the Pacifica, I see? Well, those boys run a good shop, from what I'm told. And the Orion. How long you been out?"

"About four years." Leandros flips up the next sheet and the one after, spotting another space for initials. Zipzip. He lets the papers down and pushes the file back at her but keeps the pen. "Went back to firefighting and repairwork in the downtime, so like to think I didn't lose much." As he talks he's managed to unscrew the top of the pen and slide the spring out, checking the inkwell. "Nice pen."

Rhea chuckles wryly. "Thanks. It was a gift, actually. Got a whole box of them the last time I was on Picon. Before, well, everything." Her eyes flit to the pictures on her desk for a beat, before she brings her focus back to Leandros. She clears her throat, expression kept reasonably neutral. "You can have one if you like. Thin tips, good for detail work, and you can write upside-down without losing your ink. I saw you worked DC as your primary. Good. We could use a dedicated damage control hand. We coordinate those efforts with the Deckies on this ship, so it might do you good to meet with our Deck Chief's people, give them a heads-up on your qualifications."

Leandros continues inspecting the pen, pulling out every little piece and looking it over. Her talking and the pen get equal attention, eyes shifting between them with a couple seconds of linger for each. "I'll look them up. Don't have a name, do you? Heard it was someone named Taylor till recent."

"Taylor was, aye. Not sure if they've shaken out the leadership situation down there, but you can talk to any of the senior POs. They know their business. I'd even chat up Specialists Miller or Alderman, if you come by them. They're solid men. They've lent me a hand on a couple of projects." If Rhea's concerned about the shifting situation of leadership with the Deck, she doesn't show it. It's just factored into her equations, and she moves briskly on from it. "So. Why'd you join up again?"

Pen completely disassembled now, Leandros slides each piece back into place. Spotting something on the end of a spring, he picks up a rag that already looks like it was used for cleaning something today and twists it around the tiny spiral. Then ploop, it goes back into the pen barrel. "Uh. Well." He raises both long brows at the pen as he finishes screwing the top on, and puts it down. "Let's just say your recruiters over on the Carina know how to bring up nostalgia that you're pretty sure you never even had till right that moment. That and they said it was needed. That's what you do in my job, you go where you're needed. End of story."

Rhea snorts as to the recruiters. But she nods to the rest. "Need is the main thing, to my view. I figure we're all frakked if we don't do our bit, whatever our bit might be. Cogs in the machine and all that." The antics with the pen prompt her lips to crook a notch again. "I'll have one of my ensigns run your papers up to personnel. You can start right away. I've already slotted you into the duty roster. You'll be doing rotations with this shift's Mechanical team for your first couple weeks, to get you acclimated. Standard maintenance and repair. Should be just like riding a bicycle. One of our current projects is the removal of non-essential metals from the Pandora. To put them to general use for repairs. With your qualifications I suspect you'd do well with that work. I'll get you cleared for it. Ship itself is a sensitive area, but the job you'll be doing is fairly simple stripping."

"Pandora's the Assaultstar, right?" Leandros sits back in his chair. "I'll get on it. Bringing everything back onto the Genesis, or what's the deal?"

Rhea nods an affirmative to Leandros. "You can pull the specs for the job off any of the general computers. Back to Genny to start with. I'll have to get with Command and Logistics about how exactly we'll divvy it up. The Hera'll need a share as well, if a smaller one than ours, and I think it'd be best to slot some portion for high-priority civilian repairs. Don't want an airlock failing just because a tech on a civ ship had to patch a console with duct-tape and chewing gum."

"Genny, sir?" Leandros' somber face makes its first brief smile. "You're not the type that's gone and built her own rack out of busted bulkhead panels, are you?"

Rhea's lips crook upward another notch. "Little nickname for my bucket here. You dig around in these things long enough, you get to think of them as people. Ever served on a Valkyrie class before? A trip through the FTL drive room is worth a gander. They're a smaller model than the Mercury class, but peppier. Nice little zip in her when she jumps."

"No, first Valkyrie." Leandros has an unhurried way of talking. His accent's not quite a drawl but it does have a flatness that hints to a lower class background. "Wouldn't admit to anyone but an engineer that I been sitting up in my bunk all giddy waiting for her to jump." he smirks, his attention flicking for no reason to Rhea's pictures. "That your boy?"

Rhea hasn't scrubbed all the urban Sagittaron drawl out of her accent, herself, despite decades off-colony and a Tauron surname. That admission brings a full smile to her face. "I think we'll manage to get your juices pumping when we jump. The kick always gives me tingles." Her own attention goes to the photographs, smile softening. "That's the Sprocket, aye. He's ten in the most recent one. His school picture from Picon. It's a few years out of date. He's taller and more adolescent now, alas. Name's Reece. Got him staying with a friend on the Carina. He was with me when the colonies went to frak, thankfully."

Leandros looks over the picture again, then at Rhea. Or more specifically, at the ring she wears around her neck. "His dad didn't make it?" His deep voice takes on a briefly gentler tone.

"No," Rhea replies. "We were both Navy. Attached to different assignments. My husband was on another battlestar, on duty closer to the colonies. He…well. It's the same story most have these days, I imagine." She gives no more details and moves on from the subject. Keeping her mind on the work. "But I'm luckier than most. I've still got the spawn. Is there anything else you need, Chief? I find the best way to learn a job is to get to doing it."

Leandros nods a couple times and lets the subject close as well. "No, I think I'm good, Major." He stands up, all 6'1" of him. "You'll let me know when I'm cleared to head to the Pandora and I'll tear her up."

"I'll get your clearances in tonight," Rhea says. She stays at her desk. Eyes carefully off her pictures, but she seems to find reason to linger. Before he goes she adds, "Keep the pen."

"Thanks." Leandros smirks a little, picking up the instrument. "Hey, if you're out in the mess in about four hours I'll see you there." He holds up the pen. "I'll show you what one of these springs is really good for."

"I might just be. Enjoy the springs. Dismissed." Rhea does look curious about the springs. She leaves him to it, rifling through more of the papers that were under her plaster handprint.

Leandros salutes and then strides out with long steps. Off to tear things up.

Some time later…

Mess Hall Genesis - Deck 9
99 ACH 23797 Souls

The Mess Hall on the Genesis is quite large and able to hold over 300 personnel at a time. Tables are staggered in some areas and set against the wall in others. The mess hall begins near the hatch with an area for trays and silverware, then moves through the line for the cooks to dish up whatever is on the menu for the day. There are also snack machines at the end of the line, past the huge coffee urns and water dispensers.

Sitting off at a table is Leandros, with his tray of nasty-looking soup and some jellied algae shots. Yum. His attention, though, is on some tiny mechanical parts sitting out on the table. A frakload of them, dumped from a small box. He's messing with them and a tiny screwdriver, twisting the handle around while the other hand holds a jeweller's loupe in front of his right eye.

Rebecca steps through the hatch that leads into the mess, and holds it open for a pair of younger enlisteds who enter right at her heels. As she's about to close it, another few people come through - it's foodtime, apparently, despite the slim pickings. She just sort of stands by, assuming the role of door-stopper with a wide-eyed look of wry amusement. "I'll expect a tip next time," she calls to the group that's already getting in line, rendering her pickings even slimmer. As the hatch clanks shut, she goes to grab a tray.

Rhea is just behind Rebecca, though she passes through the hatch in time to take advantage of the door-stopping. "Thanks, Chief," she says with a grin to Rebecca, getting in line behind her. Algae time.

Leandros is oblivious to everything besides the magnified view through the jeweller's loupe at the moment. He moves it to rub at his eye and then gets back to the tiny…whatever that is he's doing mechanical surgery on. Among the parts lying on the table is a once-nice ballpoint pen, taken apart and ravaged for its springs and some of the metal.

Rebecca gives Rhea a lopsided smirk, angling towards the food line behind her. She obtains an algae shot or two, forgoes the soup, then turns to scan the mess for the table with glinting metal guts arranged upon it. She strides in that direction, sliding into the seat next to Leandros. One hand creeeeps out to slide a bit of metal his way, very carefully, clearing a space for her tray. Her tray that isn't even necessary, since all it has on it is two used dixie cups of jellied algae.

Rhea gets soup as well as algae, along with a large cup of water. "I'd ask about the coffee supply, but I suspect that'd just make me weep," she says wryly to a galley rating, before heading to the tables. And toward Leandros. He's offering a brisk nod of her head. "Getting acclimated, I see." The mess of parts on the table earns a broad smile from her.

"Don't…eeeeeeven think about it." Leandros mutters at Rebecca as that sliding piece comes dangerously close to the circle of metal he's working on. He puts down the screwdriver and picks up some other very sharp tool, using it to twist a teeny tiny piece of metal. Then he sits up, taking the loupe away from his eye and laying it down. The jellied shots on Rebecca's plate get a wry look, then he chin-ups to Rhea. "Major Zimmermann."

"Sorry. I hope I didn't just mix one of your cogs into the grommets," Rebecca answers, settling in more comfortably. She reaches for a algae shot and knocks it back, and she actually /swishes/ the goo around in her mouth before swallowing. "You know, it's really not that bad. Kind of like when I went on my wheatgrass kick." She sets the mini cup down, and glances up at the approaching ChEng. "So who's the real Chief here?" she asks good-naturedly, extending a hand. "CPO Rebecca Leandros," she introduces herself.

Rhea takes her next algae shot before putting her cup down and clasping Rebecca's hand in a firm, calloused shake. "Major Rhea Zimmermann. I run CPO Jacob Leandros' shop. I take it you two know each other?" The question is asked with a certain wryness.

"Major." Leandros picks up a napkin, wiping something off his hands. "This is my wife, Rebecca. Weapons. Please don't ask me who's got the bigger gun in the family. Rebecca, this is my boss, Major Rhea Zimmermann."

"Hint," Rebecca says, her dark eyes sparkling. "It's me." Okay, so that's not much of a hint. "Nice to meet you, Major Zimmermann. Join us, won't you? I'm sure Jacob would appreciate someone who knows more words than 'cog' and 'grommet.'" She flashes a wide grin, then lifts the remaining algae shot to her lips.

Rhea chuckles. "If you're a Weps, I wouldn't doubt it. I never met an engineer I'd bet on in a shooting contest. Except maybe one of my current POs, but she grew up hunting forest creatures on Aerelon." She settles in, washing her algae jelly down with some water. Now that she's got some protein in her, she fixes a more technical eye on Leandros' gizmos. "That…frak, Leandros, you making a watch there?" She sounds half-proud at herself for even guessing.

"You should see her do Demo," Leandros comments with a glance at Rebecca, and a soft catcalling whistle. He winks at his wife, then tosses the napkin away. It didn't do much to clean his hands. "That's a watch, yeah. It will be a few weeks, anyway, when I get the balance spring stud to stop catching." He picks up his tiny screwdriver, nudging the spring from Rhea's pen towards her. Or what's left of it. "Told you I could show you a better use for this thing."

Rebecca looks cocky for a brief moment after that comment, setting her cup down with a hollow, papery THOT. "Even if I was terrible at demo, which I'm not, as long as something - anything - managed to blow up you'd be impressed." She swipes her own water and downs a few swallows. "Watchmaking, though. That takes finesse." She smiles fondly at Leandros.

Rhea can't help but smirk at the banter between the two of them. Her eyes continue to scan Leandros' project with interest. Thoughtful interest. "Let me know when you're done. I'd be curious to see the finished product. And I suspect the pen'd be glad to be used in such a fashion." She looks to Rebecca. "You're both ex-military, then? Or ex-ex-military now, I guess it should be. I was looking over your husband's service record. He's a good catch for us, technician-wise."

Leandros smirks at the ex-ex-military comment. "Technicians are dime a dozen compared to some other spots, Major." He turns the half-finished watch over. The front isn't quite recognisable as a watch yet, too many open cogs and strange bits sticking out everywhere. "This one won't be working for a while yet, but, if you or your boy like watches I might have an older one that works…" His green eyes turn to Rebecca, heavy brows drawn. "Becca, that one with the black and blue strap, where'd it go? I did bring it over, right?"

"I don't really think we're allowed to use the term 'dime a dozen' anymore, babe." Rebecca reaches out to pat Leandros' forearm, then withdraws her hand to fold her arms on the surface on the table. "We both put in two four year terms, yeah. It's just like riding a bike, isn't it?" She smirks, then considers her husband's question. "I think I saw it yesterday, actually. Behind that weird whatsit gadget on the shelf in your bunk."

"Hardly a dime a dozen from where I'm sitting, however you want to phrase it," Rhea says, as to techs. "I need all the good hands I can get. We all do here. We appreciate what folks like you are doing, suiting back up again. I know it's a hard choice for a lot of civs to make right now, the mood on the ships being what it is." She chuckles at Rebecca's turn of phrase. "Riding a bike. Aye. I said the same thing to your husband when he came on shift. As for the watch, I'll keep it in mind. I don't like giving the boy things he can break too easy, but I've got something else in mind I might put it to use for."

"Well I'll dig it out and you do what you want with it," Leandros puts the watch face back down, one of the thin plates jostling. "I don't like keeping them unless there's a good reason. Superstition." He eyes Rebecca's tray again. The wobbly, clear-looking slop in cups. "Come for the big guns, stay for jellied algae shots. Becca actually used to eat things like this without having to be coerced."

Rebecca pats her too-flat belly, then leans into one elbow on the table, smooshing her cheek up with her hand. "Better than the absolute shit you eat, Jacob. If you weren't a firefighter, you'd be more gelatinous than those there shots." Her gaze lingers amusedly upon the man next to her, then she lifts it to Rhea. "Boy? You got a son, or are you one of those - what's the word. Panthers?"

Rhea's eyebrows arch at Rebecca. She snorts a laugh. "I hope you mean some kind of Pyramid player. A Picon Panther? To answer straight, yeah, I've got a son. A twelve-year-old one who probably couldn't tell time even if he had a watch. My spawn's called Reece. He lives with a friend of mine on the Carina."

Leandros is about to say something on his eating habits, or maybe Rebecca's, but he ends up just looking at her temple for a while after that last comment. "Ten minutes and my wife is asking my boss if she's…wow, I can't listen to this." He picks the loupe back up, setting it against his right eye and leaning over his watch fixin's.

"Cougar," Rebecca exclaims in an AHA sort of moment, slamming the hand that was cradling her cheek onto the table. A few smaller metal pieces are jostled. She lets the topic of Rhea's son fade, however, changing the subject. "So, where are you from, Major Zimmermann?"

Rhea's brows arch at the word 'cougar.' Precipitously. She smirks crookedly at Rebecca. "I strike you as one who hunts the younglings, Leandros? I assure you, I only stalk men on the downward slope toward forty." The question earns a pause. More hesitation than she showed about cougar jokes. "Sagittaron," she finally replies. Short, to the point, leaving it at that. "And yourself? Your husband's personnel file said Tauron, as I recall."

Leandros doesn't even jump at the hand slamming. Ah, marriage. He's reaching for a pair of tweezers when Rhea answers that question, and he looks up as though about to comment. Then there's a glance at that wedding ring around the necklace again, and he seems to mentally answer his own question. "Tauron, both of us. About two more generations and we would've had to change the name to Leandrostein to stay Tauron-hip."

Rebecca's grin remains, and she shrugs one shoulder loosely. "I was correcting myself from earlier. You don't really strike me as the type, no, but I don't usually strike people as the gun-enthusiast, either. You really never know!" She takes another sip of water, snickering into her cup at Leandros' surname quip.

Rhea notes Leandros' eyes going to her ring but it's not something she sees fit to comment on. She sips her water, then her soup, chuckling at Rebecca's words. "I've always liked Tauron names." Well, she has one. "Lots of syllables. Kind of roll along the tongue." But that's also not a subject she dwells on. "You're into guns, then?"

Reed comes in from Corridor 9B.
Reed has arrived.

Leandros is sitting at a table, Rebecca at his left side and Rhea across from them. Trays of soup and jellied algae shots all around, and the table is an organised mess of tiny mechanical parts. Springs, gears, cogs, itty bitty metal plates of various sizes and shapes. He's making something, busy torturing a delicate piece of metal inside a small metal circular frame, a jeweller's loupe against his eye. He pauses in this delicate endeavour to regard Rebecca and smirks. "That question's all you."

Reed enters the mess hall, rubbing the back of his neck, with a handheld computer, front of his duty shirt open and looking as if he were getting off the official work cycle. He moves to the food line, passing through it to get a soup, though it's in a mug. Seems he's even now taking his food on the go.

"Really? You're gonna let me go off about my collection in front of your boss?" Rebecca asks, her pale brow wrinkling in surprise before she faces Rhea. The look in her eyes can only be described as eagerly obsessive. "I wouldn't say 'into' so much as 'completely and utterly enamored with.' You name it, I either have— had one, or was in the process of weaseling through some legal loopholes to get one."

Rhea takes another shot of algae. She's near finished with those. Her eyes occasionally drift to Leandros' tinkering efforts. They seem to increase her enjoyment of this particular meal. She shrugs to Rebecca. "Understandable, for a Weps. I get just as fired up about old engines. Never been much on guns, but my cog has a different sort of utility." She spots Reed, crooked smile coming to her lips, and she offers him a wave. "Filching from our kitchens now?" she calls to him. Teasing.

"Rebecca once had an M-1878 revolver, if you know how rare those are." Leandros talks almost without moving his mouth, squinting through the loupe as he adjusts a curl of metal with the tool in his hand. "That thing was beautiful." He moves just a finger, carrrefully not budging the lip of the metal he has braced on the edge of his tweezers. He points vaguely towards a small pile of tools. "Hand me that screwdriver with the red handle, Bec?"

Reed turns with his mug o soup, smiling to the voice as he slides his handheld away and approaches, "Well, you know, I've heard so much about the quality of the liquid foodstuffs over here, I thought I'd come over here to see for myself." He smirks to Rhea, moving to take a seat next to her, "At least give my XO time to settle into her new position without me over her shoulder." He looks to the others at the table and the collection of pieces of machinery, "Oh wow, looks like gizmo central here. Nice." He says with approval.

Rebecca reaches her hand out, bracing it against Leandros' shoulder, as if to steady herself. She closes her eyes in a private moment of mourning. "Near perfect condition. The hammer on that thing was huge," she laments, before opening her eyes and rejoining the here and now. She dutifully reaches for said red-handled screwdriver, handing it off to Leandros. As Reed approaches, she turns her head to regard him with a quirked grin.

"It's nutrient-rich, I'm sure, but I wish it had a few more shots of caffeine," Rhea replies to Reed as he joins her. As to gizmo central, she nods. With pride. "This mess isn't mine. Though I heartily approve. This is a new snipe I've acquired. Chief Petty Officer Jacob Leandros. Look at him work. That's Engineering stick-to-itivness, that is. You got yourself an XO, then?"

"Hmm?" Leandros looks up as Rhea says his name and takes the black loupe down from his eye, clearly having heard nothing else in the entire conversation. He reaches for the screwdriver, giving Rebecca's hand a discreetly grateful squeeze. "Thanks, babe." The new person in officer pins is given a quick appraisal before he nods. Brushing right hand against fatigue jacket, he reaches over the mechanical mess. "Sir. Jacob Leandros." He nods to the woman next to him. "And this is Rebecca. Also Chief Leandros."

Reed nods, taking a sip from the soup, and lowering the mug, making sure he's not setting it on top of anything metallic and delicate. "Yes, I can see that." He looks to Leandros, nodding, "Chief, good to meet you." He reaches over, shaking the hand, and blinks, looking to Rebecca, and releasing the hand to offer it to Rebecca, "Likewise Chief." He looks between them, then to Rhea, "This will get annoying on the shipwide pages. Yeah, I put McKenzie in Captain pins and in the XO spot. She's in a good position to learn, and it's nice having an XO who can shoot out a Raiders eye at fifty thousand miles."

Rebecca's grin broadens at Reed's comment about the shipwide pages. "Sir," she greets him, eyeing his pins. "Colonel. That's precisely the reason I decided not to keep my maiden name. That Jacob's a traditionalist when it comes to those sorts of things only helped tip the scale a little bit. I just like being a nuisance." She casts a sidelong glance at Leandros, giving him a wink.

Rhea chuckles. "I just liked all the syllables, for my part," she says with a shrug. "I suspect the comms'll manage without too much fuss. It's been done before. How long have you both been married, anyway?" Her lips crook toward a faint smile again. "You look like you're pushing the decade mark, at least." Which seems to be a compliment. To Reed, she nods. "McKenzie? Well, she seems to have a good head on her shoulders, and she's not caught up in the command BS. Which is all for the good. Is good to know someone with a strong combat background's going to be near the helm. Another reason I'm glad Major Fotilas agreed to let them leash him to the XO chair here again."

"Spot on," Leandros nods to Rhea. "Nine years, almost four months. Blame the recruiting office for the double Chief thing. We did go in together. They had their chance to make it easier on you all." He puts the loupe down and then the screwdriver without using it. "Sounds like Rebecca would like this XO of yours, Colonel. She's in Weps herself." He reaches out to pick up a spring that rolled close to Reed's cup, preventing it from fleeing. "You a mechanical man, sir?"

"Has it really been that long?" Rebecca muses aloud, giving Leandros a sardonic flutter of her lashes before she reaches out to take another few gulps of her water. "I think I've that her name once or twice. Is she on the Hera?" she asks of Reed.

Reed smiles between the Chiefs, then looks at the male of the pairing, replying easiely, "Not really, I'm biological." He says with a driness, looking to the female part of the pairing, "Really, in Weapons? Excellent, seems like a working relationship that's highly complimentary." He smiles, nodding as he looks between them, and looks to Rhea, still smiling. "Yes, I heard that Fotilas got saddled with the XO spot once more, I need to rib him about it some." He looks to Rebecca and nods, "Yes she is. I'm sure you and she would have a fine time discussing the Heras weapons array. She was outfitted heavily with multiple vectors and delivery systems for a ship of her size."

Rhea's smile takes on a wistful quirk as Leandros pinpoints their marriage down to the months. Her food's near gone, so she works on finishing her water now. After some drinking, she gets back to business. "I should have a talk with Captain McKenzie. I need someone with a Weps brain to give me a hand with a few things on the Pandora. She can delegate if she doesn't have the time for it personally, but I would like to pick her brain." Reed's biological crack earns a smirk. "Colonel Carter was a researcher by trade. Terraforming, to be specific."

"Trust the guy with the watches, Bec," Leandros tells Rebecca. He glances at Reed at that description of McKenzie, then at Rebecca again. "Sounds like your kind of girl. Someone to hit the range with one day. Just remember what happened the last time you challenged an officer to a shooting contest." The gravitas in his voice makes it hard to tell if he's cracking a joke or not. The mention of Reed's former job gets a small nod, with a briefly amused quirk of brow to acknowledge the quip. "Ambitious, sir."

Rebecca nudges Leandros with the sharp end of her elbow. "Jacob, I thought we were trying to leave our sordid pasts behind us?" she hisses in a stage-whisper, before her gaze slides back towards Reed. "Terraforming? Really?" Her brows arch, her already wide eyes defying all logic.

Reed nods to Leandros briefly, thinking a moment, "It was." He shrugs, giving it the usefulness it deserves in the current situation, which is nil. Looking to Rebecca, he shrugs, "Long story. Interesting, but not very applicable these days." He then looks to Rhea, "Of course, feel free to grab her and see what help she can be to your work on the Pandora. I'm sure she'd be more than willing to help however she can."

"I'll button-hole her the next time I make a trip to the Hera, which should be fairly soon," Rhea says. She regards Reed a beat, though she says nothing further as to terraforming. "Anyhow, I'm fed. I'd best shower and hit my bunk while I've still got off-duty time to burn. If you're lingering on Genny, Reed, you should swing by before you go." To the Leandri, she inclines her head. "Leandros. Leandros. I'll see one of you on duty. Best of luck with the tinkering, and the guns, or whatever your business is."

"Night, Major." Leandros isn't a man of lengthy goodbyes. He starts picking through the mechanical offal on the table until he finds a small round piece with a hole in the middle, bringing the loupe to his eye to check some etching along the rim. That gets set at the table edge for later, and he picks up another round object, checking that as well. Score. He puts the loupe down and picks up the circular frame of the object he's putting together, lifting it until he can see through one of the sectors not linked by various gears. He's quite still for a moment, making calculations in his head, and then sets it down again, reaching for a different screwdriver. "Don't think I caught your name in all that, sir." Obviously addressed to Reed.

Reed nods to Rhea, "I'll be by in a few." He says to Rhea, smirking as she gets ready to leave. He then looks to Leandros, "Oh, sorry, Colonel Reed Carter, Hera CO."

Rebecca settles in to watch Leandros in his efforts, cheek smooshed against her hand again as she observes. "Is this one going to be able to take a lickin' and keep on tickin'?" she asks, her tone a strange one of dry whimsy. Her gaze flicks up at Reed, then back to the man next to her and his mechanical guts.

Rhea leaves for Corridor 9B [O].
Rhea has left.

"This one is about to find itself back in the furnace if it doesn't behave," Leandros puts the whole thing back into its box and starts sweeping the bits and cogs off the table to pile back into their own little labelled sections of the box. "Don't let me forget to find that blue one for the Major, Becca? I'll look for that box later. I need to get a shower and a couple hours' sleep. Staying here?" He starts to stand up, scratching his hand over Rebecca's back as he does so. "Colonel Carter, nice to meet you."

Reed smiles at the interaction of the Leandri. Name's stuck, as of now. He nods to Leandros, and begins to rise, "Good to meet you both. I should take my soup and make my way down to the ChEngs place, shortly."

Rebecca leans her head into Leandros' forearm as he scratches over her back. She stands shortly thereafter, shaking her head. "I think I'll go with you back to berthings, snag your pillow while you're in the head." She grins impishly at her husband, then turns a more cordial smile onto Reed. "Have a good day, Colonel," she grants, reaching out to stack her algae shot cups. They may be paper, but they're salvageable.

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