AWD #328: A Twelve Appears
Log Title
Summary: A mission team from the Orion goes in search of answers and finds a new skinjob instead.
Date: 15/05/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: The Linten Incident
Bennett Dreyer Elias Lana Randy Dropkickst 
Across the Red Line
Danger Zone!
AWD #328

Orders come down for a mission, expected duration forty-eight hours off-ship. Air is to provide a Raptor flight crew. The Marines, two security details (so there are a pair of NPCs in addition to Randy and Dreyer.) And Deck has a Raptor waiting for them in the hangar, outfitted with external fuel tanks in a 'max range' configuration. Tactical's contribution is a young-looking Major in freshly pressed duty blues and wearing his sidearm — Elias looks relatively scrubbed up and rested, but there is a palpable tension about the Intel Officer as he takes his place aboard their craft. What has not been provided is any sort of mission briefing. This does not occur until everyone is assembled and aboard the raptor, and the hatch shut.

"We are dealing with a potential security situation," Elias explains, glancing down at the clipboard he carries. "We'll be making a refueling stop at Picon before a rendezvous with the Cruiser Linten, where I will go aboard and deliver orders to their Commanding Officer." He pauses to hand the jump coordinates for this rendezvous to the raptor crew — coordinates that plot in interstellar space, well beyond the Armistice Line. Cylon country. "We will proceed to a second rendezvous with a civilian vessel, the Pulse High. We will then escort the Pulse High through three jumps to rendezvous with other Fleet elements." Elias turns towards the front of the bus, speaking to the Raptor crew. "If anything unexpected happens and you believe the mission is compromised, return to the Orion and report directly to Admiral Jameson." Then the Intel Officer addresses the group of Marines. "Two of you will accompany me board the Linten and remain there." He indicates the first two Marines. "And the other two will come with me aboard the Pulse High." Dreyer and Randy. "All of you keep your eyes open. We may be dealing with Skinjobs, or possibly even human agents working for the enemy." Traitors. As if the Cylons weren't bad enough. "Any questions?"

A mission, with nebulous (at the outset) orders. Just that there's two security details and it'll be a long haul. What this means is that Anton Dreyer appears in the hangar with decent kit. Full armor, his rifle, and a full pack. The last is stowed once within the Raptor and the man settles into a seat, setting himself to getting situated and strapped in as the Major speaks. When attention comes to him and Flynn, the young MP gives a sharp, understanding sort of nod. There is an uncomfortable look that crosses his feature at mention of sympathizers to the enemy, but it's brief. "No, sir," is the answer to the query. Thusly settled, the marine leans back to catch a few winks while the pilots do their thing.

Bennett is quite familiar with high-security missions, and the secrecy they entail. The raptor squadron commander still looks a little roughed-up from the previous day's mission, but makes no complaint as she swings into her assigned bus and gets busy with pre-flight detail. Work is work, and with half an ear on the intel officer and his spiel, it's becoming quickly apparent why she was tagged for this particular operation. "Copy that, sir," she informs Elias while pulling on her helmet and powering up systems with a tap, tap of switches. "Are we being apprised of the goal for this mission, at this time?" Or are they taking a joy ride out to cylon space, with a few fleet ships along for funsies?

Ensign Lana Westbrook, yet to receive a callsign, couldn't be any more than twenty years old under that flight helmet of hers, but she manages to get into the Raptor and strapped into her console without any stumbling or obvious nervousness. It must be 'bring your late-era teenager to work day'. It's just a first official mission, no major pressure, right? When she's in seat, she listens to the major and accepts the jump coordinates, which she immediately begins to study while listening to the orders. Multiple jumps and multiple days of work. She looks up sharply at the mention of being Cylon skinjobs and the details on the coordinates on her sheet. Chewing her lip behind the glass, she shakes her head to the negative. "No questions, Sir. No questions." Lana replies, then turns to get to work, her heels drumming a slow beat into the floorboards while plugging in the sequences.

And Randy's received orders again. "Hopefully no beans." Magic Aerilon beans are lethal. She's all rested up and ready to ship out again. She spent time replenishing her stock with security, cleaned her weapons, organized her kit, and taking a shower before showing up for duty. She's suited up in full armor, her rifle, and this time she decided to bring a sidearm. She squints as she listens. At first, she doesn't speak up for her part, but allows others to ask questions for her…if they have them. "It would be nice to know if there are particular individuals we should keep a special eye on, or is that classified?"

Elias gives Bennett a nod. "Our objective is to get both the Linten Group and the Pulse High back to that final rendezvous, Captain. Once we've linked up with other elements of the Fleet you'll be released to return to the Orion." It doesn't sound like that will be the end of the mission for the Intel Officer, but at least the Raptor team's work will be done. The Marines all seem business-like enough, which suits the Major just fine. "No," he tells Randy, "Odds are that our target is among the officers of either the Linten or the Pulse High, but we don't have enough information." Their teen-aged ECO gets a careful study from Elias, who then shoots a considering look towards Bennett. Well, the squadron commander is leading this, so she must be satisfied with her personnel.

Elias's look toward Bennett is returned, level and in kind. If she chose Lana for this, she presumably had her reasons. Or is off her rocker, which would be a departure from her service record thus far. "Understood, sir," is all she has to say. And then the raptor's engines come to life, and she gives the signal for someone to shut the hatch. Time to get this show on the road.

The three jumps back to the colonies go off just find, the refueling on Picon without a hitch. It takes an hour or so, all told. The group ends up getting their jump out to Linton without incident, too. At the far ass end of known space, they are way beyond the Red Line. Few humans have ever been this far from the Colonies. The Linten Group is surprised to see them, judging by the radio traffic. But there's grim news to be reported - news Elias already knows. Upon landing, the Major is only gone about ten minutes. He learns that Linten only knows the two Corvettes are missing, not their ultimate fate. When he returns, the Raptor departs without incident and jumps two more times across a vast amount of space to the last known location of the cartography mission, led by the Pulse High. They're distant on DRADIS range, but they are there. As soon as there's a return on them, there's a hail on the radio.

"Colonial Raptor, this is Pulse High." There are sounds of relief and a cheer in the background. The transmission is low and weak, though. "We're glad as hell to see you. Request MP's and senior leadership to the bridge as soon as available. We have a prisoner, over."

<FS3> Lana rolls ECM: Great Success.

All business, that's Dreyer. Sorta. Mostly he just knows what he's there for. To set a particular image and provide support if things go sideways. The man glances sidelong to Randy at her question, but he doesn't add anything. Instead, he totally ends up borrowing her shoulder to nap on with the initial flights and jumps. Might be on purpose. Might just end up that way. The man is pretty chill throughout until they reach the Pulse High. It's then that he begins stirring himself, preparing for the duty of 'escort spook.' That is… until word comes through on the radio line. The MP's eyebrows quirk and well, it's a good thing he packed with 'whatever may come' in mind. There's the standard restrains, just in case. Not visible, but the pat to one of the pouches on his person may be answer enough. It's just a sort of tic — a prepardness thing — to assure self that yes, they are right where you put them.

Shortly after the jump and the hail, Lana, unsigned ECO, tilts her head at her console and taps on a few keys. A low-frequency squeak whines up from the center of her belly, as if she's trying to determine something. Through the glass of her helmet, her face is lit, and the bite down of her teeth is visible. "Butch." Lana breaks her silence. "Butch I'm getting a -really- low band IFF Warning of Approach from Pulse High and Blue Might." Lana's head whips up towards the cockpit, then back down to her console, her fingers flying quickly. "They're transmitting it low. Ghost low. Radio silence low." Lana's body clatters against the chair, suddenly sitting up. "Linten group is jumping in right behind us. Multiple Linten DRADIS signals!" Lana calls out loud enough for everyone to hear, as if that final detail were possible to miss.

Elias spends much of the ride trying to sleep, the sort of restless rest they're all probably familiar with — you know you should take the chance to get the shut eye, but it's easier said than done. And while he looks somewhat relieved when he returns from his brief trip aboard the Linten, where the first two Marines remain, the job is clearly far from over. With the Pulse High nowhere in visual range after their next jump, the Intel Officer turns his attention the Bennett and Lana, waiting to see what the raptor crew can tell them. The news the ECO has for them cause the Major's face to go grim. "The Linten Group is accompanying us." Expected, it seems. He just didn't mention it. "Bring us in to dock with the Pulse High," he says to Butch. And then to Dreyer and Randy he says, "We're going aboard. Don't assume things are as they appear."

"Pulse High, this is Colonial Raptor four seven niner echo. We copy. ETA on skids down is two minutes." Thumb coming off the mic, Bennett pans her gaze across the bow of the Pulse High, and throttles back the engines to bring them in. And then Lana speaks up, and she half-turns her head to listen, gloved fingertips ghosting over the flight yoke in preparation to alter her plan of attack. "I see them, Westbrook," she informs Lana calmly, a small smile for the young woman's enthusiasm. Then reaching over, she switches her outbound radio to a secure frequency and speaks into it again, "Control, this is raptor four seven niner echo.." And her soft voice drones on in the background as the bus strafes out into a holding position, awaiting clearance to land.

Clearance is given quickly and the IFF shuts down it's low warble, both ships. Behind them the Linten Group takes up stand-off positions, the Commander in charge having already brought everyone up to Condition One. The only thing they haven't done yet is lock weapons. No chances are taken this far from home.

The Raptor lands into a side bay that seals behind them. Once pressure is normalized, crews without breathing gear come out and hook up small tow fixtures to help park the craft - much like on a Battlestar. Everything appears normal. The next person coming out of the airlock hatch is, and Elias would know his face, the Captain. Julius Ingrall. He's wearing his standard white uniform with black shoulderboards and wearing his Captain's Cap. There are two people with him, one of them wearing a wireless mic. The other has a leather-bound file folder. None of them appear armed with anything except relief on their faces.

Randy's always enjoyed little trips, and perhaps secretly she's enjoying the chance to go so far out into space, that adventuring side of her buzzing. When Dreyer uses her shoulder, she simply makes it easier for him, sitting up straight so he doesn't get a crick in his neck or anything. No words need be exchanged. She spends the time with her pre-mission ritual, two small worn photographs that she unfolds from a pocket. She's too wired to sleep, but spending some time with old loved ones helps her focus on something to pass the time, remembering other times, some better, some not. "Following your lead on MP procedures," she whispers to Dreyer between the communications. When the Raptor lands, Randy unclips herself and springs out of the Raptor, hopping quickly to the ground. Then she steps to the side to wait for Dreyer.

It's Lana's excitement in the report that fully stirs Dreyer from his napping state. His gear-check must have been more reflex than anything else because he'd started to drift off again. Sorry about the drool, Flynn. The man blinks a few times, lifting a hand to rub at his face. "Frak me," he mutters under his breath, doing a more thorough check. At Elias' instructions, the Sergeant gives a nod. "Aye, sir." Good thing for the MP being sent along, it'd seem. Invesigation? Arrest? This is far more up his proverbial alley than extract of a formerly-missing team from a hot zone. Bonus? There's officers for days, so he doesn't have to make decisions. Just yes sir, no sir, how high sir? When they disembark, Dreyer is fully geared. Is that a rifle? Oh, yes it is. The safety is on and his hands are in the proper placement for 'safety,' but he is clearly in MP-mode. The man is first to egress from the Raptor, stepping down and casting a look around the hangar. There's a gesture for Randy to fan out a bit. He'll wait by the wing as the others disembark and Randy is gestured towards the nose. Whatever he's looking for, the Sergeant seems satisfied and waves the Major and the flight crew out.

Lana Westbrook didn't exactly get the information that the Linten Group would be following, so when no one else seems surprised by this, Lana looks over to Elias, brown eyes peeking wide to him in full view of the other backseat riders. Her brows tilt to one side, and as if saying 'ooooo-kay' she twists her seat back to the console with a tiny huff under her breath. Her jaw unhinges to one side as her tongue works an old chunk of MRE out of her teeth while she sits tight and lets the landing sequence lash the Raptor to the Pulse High. Once down, she looks up towards Butch's seat for direction.

"Bring your sidearm," Bennett explains, voice low and deceptively soft. "Under your seat. Stay behind the marines." What in the gods' names has she dragged the poor girl into? Unbuckling her harness, she reaches for her own weapon - her usual Picon Five-seveN - and makes sure it's loaded with a quick rack of the slide. Safety on, she then nods to Lana, indicating the Ensign should go ahead and she'll bring up the rear.

Elias cranes his neck for a view out the front cockpit glass before the hatch is open, studying their welcoming committee with pursed lips. Then he unbuckles himself and stands, straightening his uniform before he climbs out of the raptor behind the two Marines. Once Dreyer waves them out, Elias steps onto the wing and then down, moving unhurriedly towards Captain Ingrall and the other two members of the Pulse High's crew. And while there's a glance behind him as the raptor crew starts to disembark, Elias makes no complaint. That is Bennett's call and most likely expected behavior under normal circumstances, given the length of the trip out here. "Captain," he greets Ingrall with the courtesy of his command position, "I'm Major Gray."

Captain Ingrall nods to Elias as he approaches. "Good to meet you, Major Gray. We've been hoping we would hear back from the fleet. With everything that's happened, we weren't sure what to do so I ordered us to hold position. I'm sure as shit not jumping back to P with a skinjob on board. I figured this was the safest place to be." He looks over the other and notes the guns, but doesn't comment. Contrary, it seems like he may have expected that. "Please, follow me." He turns to lead them deeper into the ship. So far everything looks normal. "The skinjob identified itself about two minutes before the scout Raptor jumped. he looked pretty upset. When we tried to take him into custody just before the jump, he fled the bridge and ran back to Engineering. He shot a Petty Officer that had transferred over here from Linten as a liaison for movements. Put four bullets in her right after the Raptor jumped. He surrendered right afterwards, calm as could be. So far he's been docile. We don't have a brig so we locked him in a storage room with a camera on him 24 hours a day. Won't speak to anyone except senior leadership from JTF Nomad."

With her back to the hatch, Lana reaches down under her seat and pulls her sidearm free. She checks the safety first, then pulls back on the side until she sees the round, then eases the slide back into place. Double-checked, she slips it into her thigh holster and nods quietly to Bennett. The seat unlocks from its position and she stows it in its rightful place, kicks the seat's brake back into stop-mode, and falls into line behind the marines, leaving Bennett to take the rear, just as requested.

Once the Major is out and moving to meet their welcoming party, Dreyer moves forward to follow the man. There's a gesture for Randy that sweeps to include Bennett and Lana. 'Cover them,' he mouths. Sort of a tailgunner position, but they're on friendly floorplates. In theory. The ship may be a friendly, but they're well into unfriendly territory. The Sergeant finally comes to a spot at Elias' eight. Maybe half-past seven. You know, just behind and to the left. It keeps him 'out' of things, but well within range should something go awry. The MP's brows rise at the Captain's story, but he doesn't comment.

Elias listens to the Pulse High's skipper with an intent, narrow-eyed focus, his lips compressed into a tight line. But contrary to Ingrall's offer, the Intel Officer does not move to follow him. "If you don't mind," he tells the civilian captain, "I have a few questions for you before we meet with the prisoner." There's a not-so-subtle glance to his left and right, towards where the Marines and now the flight crew are waiting behind him, before the Major turns back to Ingrall. "To begin with, who gave you the jump coordinates you provided to your escort Raptor, Captain?"

Bennett also looks skeptical as the Captain speaks. But she's just here in the capacity of a bus driver; they aren't paying her to pipe up. Fingertips touch the grip of her sidearm, and her relaxed posture belies a subtle tension in her shoulders. Her helmet was stowed on her seat, so it's with an unobfuscated gaze that she marks their exit points and observes the comings and goings of crew aboard the Pulse High.

The micro-marine might seem like she's just another jarhead standing guard with her rifle, but that is hardly the case. Randy keeps her ears open, picking up on the details of what is reported to Elias. She glances towards Dreyer and offers the smallest of nods. She stays wholly in front of Bennett and Lana. She uses this and her positioning relative to Dreyer to create a solid net of coverage, like a pyramid player employing zone defense. She tries to reign in her facial expressions, but her knitted brow is just one more reason that she made a better candidate for EOD over MP. She's more about impromptu problem solving than procedure, sometimes making her an odd duck. She makes sure that she can receive eye contact and keeps her eye out for any subtle hand signals Dreyer might throw her way, since he's kind of 'taking point' in their protection scheme.

The Captain stops walking and turns back. He looks over the group and hesitates a moment. A long breath taken, he nods to his assistant with the leather folder. She moves over to Elias to hand it off. "Those are my logs for the last two weeks. The coordinates we gave to the Raptor were the same ones provided us by Command. We think. We're not positive. After the skinjob was captured, I ordered a full diagnostic on all systems. We found an anomoly." He clears his throat, glancing to the other crew working. They're probably listening. "Per emissions control and security, we do not voice transmit voice coordinates. We transfer them digitally. Our comms officer input the correct set per our orders. When it transmitted it hit some kind of firewall and tripped a line of code that transmitted different ones."

Lana Westbrook can't hide the fact that she's green. A drop of sweat traces down her jaw and her messy nest of brown hair while she looks around the assembled. Looking for exit points? No. Her exit point of choice is lashed down to the Pulse High, but when she looks to Bennett for direction, she straightens her back and idly rests the heel of her hand on her belt, not far from her sidearm. Once she's secure that Dreyer and Randy are covering her hip from view, she creeps her fingers to rest against the grip of her pistol and does her best to look…like a bored teenager. She's anything but the former, but every bit the latter.

A lot of this goes over Dreyer's head. All he knows is there's a skinjob on board and they've been held prisoner. The man straightens his shoulders slightly, stepping up closer to Elias. His voice is pitched low. Meant for the Major, but possibly overheard by others. "What model of skinjob are we talking, sir?" Because, well, potentially different handling methods for some of them. Some are more 'omfg death!' and others are 'wait and see.' There's also the personality differences observed so far. May alter the method of approach, after all.

Bennett is motionless when Lana looks over. The pilot's hair - what wasn't shaved off - is scraped back into a braid that's been haphazardly mussed from her helmet, and there's an angry pink slash across her throat where the hardseal sits. Her bright blue eyes remain keenly focused on their environs, while her thumb tap, tap, taps a soft rhythm against her thigh.

"I see," Elias accepts Ingralls explanation with little obvious sign of judgement. Then he thinks for a moment, one hand straying towards his jacket pocket absently before he is interrupted by the assistant with the leather folder. One brow quirks as the Major takes the case and weighs it, studies it for a moment, and finally flips it open to check the contents. Log paperwork, as advertised. "I'd like you to have the prisoner brought here, if you don't mind, Captain. He's a former member of your crew, I assume? Any idea why he killed that the Petty Officer, or why he chose that moment to reveal himself?" And as Dreyer offers his own question, Elias looks back towards Ingralls and forwards it in a slightly different way. "I assume he's not one of the known models? And could you please have your ship's doctor join us, and have them bring enough sedative to keep a human unconcious for twenty four hours?"

Lana's brow quirks at something the Captain has said, at least after running it through her own mental filter. The very teensy, tiny corner of her lip sucks in between her teeth in deep thought, and a sidelong glance is sent Butch's way, but nothing is spoken. For a few seconds, the proverbial lightbulb has gone off in her head, but she stands down, and returns to looking to the corners of the room while the high brass discusses their situation. Her lip flubs back into place, white at the tip until the blood rushes back into it.

The Captain looks over to Dreyer and shakes his head. "No idea, but it's not one we know-of. It's why we doubted the claim at first. He came over from the Linten group several days before the Petty Officer. The Petty Officer transferred about an hour before the Raptor launched. When the skinjob came aboard he had requested that we let him know the minute the Petty Officer boarded. We hadn't mentioned it to him yet because it was watch change. Got lost in the jump prep." He then looks back to Elias. "Sure, if you want him brought here. I doubt he's going to fight meeting a Major. But no, no word on why he killed her. He stormed onto the bridge and told us we had to halt the jump. There was a shouting match. The guy looked really pissed we wouldn't listen." He then looks to the comms assistant with him. "Tell Doctor Kilmer to meet us here with sedatives enough to tranq a horse. Have the duty guard bring the prisoner here, please." She nods to him and steps away to make the call.

There is a marginal cringe when the Pulse High's captain tells the story. Dreyer draws in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. None of it bodes well. Especially considering who followed them in. The man isn't entirely comfortable and that much is clear. He's gone from 'bored marine escorting brass' to full-MP. The gears are working and chugging away and he steps forward. Marginally. Just a half-sep, really. He's watching the comms assistant as she steps away. "Sir," this to Elias. "Shall I remain here or go assist with the prisoner transport?" Point A to Point B, an MP's favorite duty.

Elias nods evenly to Ingrall. "Thank you, Captain." Cooperation is making this so much easier. Wheels are clearly turning in his mind, but the Intel Officer doesn't say anything for a few long seconds. Dreyer's query pulls him out of his thoughts, and the young Major turns to give a quick shake of his head. "No. Our team will remain here for now, Sergeant." A quick warning look goes to Randy, Butch, and Lana as well. Not that any of them seem to need the reminder to be on their guard. "Captain," he turns back to Ingrall. "While we wait, would you mind explaining why you ordered Lieutenant Almaeda off your ship and onto the escort raptor?"

Major Grey gets a slightly raised brow from Bennett. She knows the protocol; no warning seems necessary. And if she has the faintest idea of how this all fits together, she gives absolutely no indication.

When Elias looks back to Lana, she nods her head faintly, and what serves as being wide awake and eyes open, wide as saucers, surely is alertness. Her pink tongue darts out to wet her lips and she exhales a gentle breath, then shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Mildly fidgety and equally nervous-green, she lifts a hand to plaster another stray strand of hair that escaped her ponytail against the side of her head, and continues to stay on alert.

Ingrall doesn't smile, though he does shake his head. "A completely unrelated issue. The day had started with several people in engineering attempting to form a labor union and I had dealt with a delivery of demands that morning. There had been several arguments among senior staff. I was angry and frustrated and did not want a member of the fleet getting wind that everything on the ship was not in perfect running order. Pride is my sin, Major. It's detailed in the watch log." He gestures to it. The lady with the wireless mic comes back and confirms that everything is in motion. Indeed, the Doctor can already be seen approaching. He wears a tan officers uniform with similar black shoulderboards, but no cap. There's a small needle pouch held in his hand as he approaches, but it remains zipped shut. He just moves to stand off to the side, waiting. Likely he knows exactly what it is he's going to be doing here.

It's a traditional offer. Have one of the MPs involved in the hand-off be on the escort from holding cells. Just in case. But Dreyer doesn't argue. He made the offer, so if there's any point later he's ever asked 'why' he didn't, he has reasonable explanation. The man just gives a small nod and falls back to that spot slightly behind and to Elias' left. One hand drapes over the stock of his rifle; casual as can be. But his eyes? Focused just past the Pulse High's Captain, in the direction the comms officer went. Waiting. Waiting is something he's good at. His blues slide along to watch the doctor approach before snapping back to the corridor itself. A slight, marginal shift of hand. He's preparing himself for 'worst case' scenario.

Randy squints slightly, considering the words that float back towards her past Dreyer and the Major. She dips her chin at the Major, eyes maintaining contact throughout. It wouldn't necessarily be picked up as a nod by others, or so she hopes, wishing to minimize the amount of interaction that might put the other crew on guard. She taps her fingers across the stock of her rifle lightly, some part of her unable to hold still for so damn long. It's been awhile since boot.

They can see past the Captain down the short corridor. There's approaching footsteps and the sound of shackles jingling. The guy that appears is just over six feet and very fit, much like Knox but a different face and less dusk to his skintone. But the face? It's an unknown. At least not anybody that would recognize from around the Orion. He looks past the Captain to the assembled crew and smiles, looking pleased. "Captain Gray, they told me I'd be meeting a Major. Sly dog." He then looks to Bennett and nods politely. "Captain Saint Claire. A squadron leader and a man from Tactical. Impressive." Well that might be a little unnerving. As they approach, he looks over everyone and notes the change in rank for Elias. "Ah, pardon me. It is Major. Congratulaitons on the promotion." It actually has a touch of sincerity to it. It would be easy to sound smug, but he just looks to each in order. "I'm afraid I don't know the others. I'm Twelve. Pleasure."

Lana drums her fingertips against her utility belt, and her other fingers tap against the polymer grip of her Picon Five-SeveN. While she watches the display in front of them, something is itching in her features that makes her brow twitch every so often, like she's doing complex mathematics in her head. At best, she's distracted. Eventually, the bit breaks and Lana leans over to Bennett, whispering something quietly to the woman.

The raptor captain may as well be a pretty statue, for all she's contributed to this little soiree thus far. As the 'prisoner' is brought in, her chin lifts a fraction and her eyes lock onto him with the doggedness only a pilot could muster. The fact that he knows her name, her rank and station, produce a flicker of surprise but little else; she does not address him. Instead, she cants her head to the side to hear what Lana has to say. And stills, like her blood just turned to ice in her veins.

Knox was nice. Nine was in a coma, bleeding all over her. Twelve? May the Randy-squinting continue. When /it/ arrives, Randy lifts her chin enough to keep her eyes on him, but not solely on him either. The fact that the suspected cylon recognizes Gray isn't lost on the woman. She's not so quick to return the meet-and-greet, which makes her seem more like a legit MP than she was pulling off before, though her EOD patch is always present, according to regulations regarding the handling of explosive ordnances, so it's not like she's fooling anyone, or needs to.

When the self-labeled 'Twelve' approaches, Dreyer is drawing his rifle up. The safety is clicked off and the barrel aimed somewhere between himself and the skinjob. It's not a threat, just a warning. His jaw tightens when the man names two of their party. Not too much, he doesn't seem terribly surprised. They were told this skinjob transferred in off the Linten; a Colonial ship. It's more the Twelve's casual approach that seems to negatively affect the MP. He glances towards the doctor waiting, then back to the skinjob… Maybe hoping this doesn't get dragged out. Higher risk of problem on a longer timeline.

Elias frowns at Ingrall's answer to his previous question, but he makes no further argument on that subject. "I see." And then he goes silent as the ship's doctor arrives, followed soon after by the prisoner. The sight of his unknown face causes the Intel Officer's eyes to narrow and his lip to compress, focusing closely on the man's features. Committing them to memory. "Twelve." He repeats the designation, then exhales slowly, doing his best to keep his expression impassive. His posture may be tense and wary, but the young Major doesn't reach for his weapon. He's trusting the Marines if it comes to that. "You're well informed," Elias notes, though he does not sound particularly surprised. The congratulations are ignored, as are any introductions for those the skinjob claims not to know. "I assume you have a message for us?" Straight to what he guesses is the reason the skinjob is cooperating.

Lana has now taken her place beside Bennett, standing close and leaning in to whisper quietly the to Captain, trading a few whispers back and forth while keeping her eyes on the Cylon and the upper-brass.

The Twelve watches the two whispering for a moment but seems to dismiss it easily. Carelessly? Odd, perhaps. "I am, Major. But only so much. Finding out who makes up the leadership of the Orion and it's task force was quite easy. I will admit that we don't have accurate records for everything, though." he smiles a bit, nodding once with the last word there. "As for a message? Probably not like you're used to. I am more intent on having a discussion and forming a conclusion for my line. I would like to attempt to return to them eventually but that is part of my absorbed risk. Though I also suspect you all care very little for what I would like." He gives away understanding with the expression. "I do regret the actions of that Petty Officer. Per my plan, Sheila was never supposed to be able to transmit those coordinates. I believe One meddled in the situation on his own. You may all surmise I'm not here on his behalf, or behalf of anyone else of the lines. Only the Twelves."

The smaller marine flicks her safety off, but doesn't fully raise her rifle. In a relaxed 'ready' position, she hikes the stock up to her shoulder and keeps her rifle ready to pull into position. It gives her a better view of the field and the subtler motions that could happen around the prisoner's shackles. As for the Twelve's words about what they may surmise? Randy thinly veils her disbelief (or distrust) with a brief cough.

Bennett gives an almost imperceptible little head-shake to Lana, though her eyes remain on the Twelve with something bordering on genuine curiosity. She speaks softly to her ECO, once more. The words are brief, and her circumspection clear. Bennett also does not have her hand on her sidearm. She'll leave that to the marines; her priority is her bus and her ECO.

Lana looks to Bennett after her final whisper. Heavy brows and brown eyes stare for a few seconds at the woman, but she nods her head in silence and ceases her lean towards the Captain. With a roll of her shoulders, she straightens her neck and turns her eyes straight forward to listen and dissect the Cylon with eyes that scrutinize and collect.

Elias' expression remains skeptical as the Twelve speaks, and there's no sign that he's relaxing in any way, despite the man's conversational attitude. "Your plan may have cost hundreds of lives already," he says in a cool tone, looking the Twelve over as he weighs the situation. "You can add that to your conclusion." And while he doesn't make an audible response to what he may surmise, his expression looks much the same as Randy's reaction sounds. "We'll need to sedate you," Elias tells the Twelve, offering no apology. And unless the skinjob makes some immediate protest, the young Major motions to the Pulse High's doctor to go ahead.

For all that the Twelve has been quite cordial so far, Dreyer isn't letting his guard down. The rifle does sag, just a bit, as the man reaches for a pouch at his belt. Added restraints, just in case. The flap is just opened, to make it easier to reach. A quick move and then his hand is back on the gun. When the Major motions for the doctor to approach, Anton does draw the rifle just a bit higher. Just in case.

"Mm. My plan would have saved millions. That plan was interferred with. It would have worked. Sheila met the end she deserved." Shot to death. That's one way to met out his perception of justice. None of Elias' words seem to concern him in the least, though. The order for sedation brings a casual shake of his head. He then tilts it to the right, away from the Doctor. "Feel free. We both know the shackles won't stop me, nor would have that door to the stockroom, so taking proper percautions is of no ill-favor." The Captain looks shocked but gestures quickly for the Doctor. The Doc injects a full syringe quickly and then backs away. The Twelve blinks a few times and shakes his head as if there were something stuck in his ear. "Wow. Doc, did you need to use that much?" Just as the Twelve finishes the words, they start to slur and he staggers a step before just falling over sideways onto the deck like a tree hitting the ground. Thud.

Oddly enough, Bennett's focus is only partly reserved for the Twelve as he gives his explanations and is summarily subdued; the lion's share of her attention is reserved for Captain Ingrall. No move is made toward the powered-down raptor for the time being, huddled just behind them with only its running lights flashing a slow cadence. No, she'll wait for the Major's signal before doing any such thing.

Lana blinks as the Cylon is injected with drugs and falls over like a sack of used laundry. She doesn't seem particularly sorry for it, steeled by the same lack of passion so many humans have for Cylons and their suffering. There's no pleasure to be found there, either. She shifts her weight to the other hip, still moderately able to subdue the tension running up the side of her neck. Her eyes droop down to the Cylon, then to Captain Ingrall, then to Elias, watching the decision making progress from a passive place.

Randy takes notice of Dreyer reach for that belt pouch, one she knows holds his restraints. It allows her to ready herself for hairpin moments such as the possibility of needing to cover a sudden movement from Dreyer. Still she keeps her rifle lowered slightly so she can watch the motions from her vantage points. Even as the Twelve complies with the sedation, Randy does not let her guard down. Things may not be what they seem right? She's used to handling tricky IEDs, situations that share some common ground with this one in that often there is a dead silence before the storm and a need to flush out the enemy. She's just waiting for something to go unexpectedly.

"No doubt you'll be able to explain later," Elias assures the Twelve, though his skepticism has not waned. There's little visible reaction from the Intel officer for the rest of what the skinjob has to say, and then Elias finally exhales a long breath, allowing himself to relax a little when the man collapses. "Doctor, would you mind checking him over, please?" And then to Dreyer and Randy. "Secure him in the raptor after the Doctor is finished. One of you keep a rifle on him at all times, and do not count on the restraints." Perhaps the Twelves was telling the truth there. Take no chances seems the order of the day. To Butch and Lana Elias advises, "I will brief Captain Ingrall on the rest of our mission. As soon as the necessary jumps have been completed, we'll be returning to base." With those instructions given, the young Major gestures to Captain Ingrall. "May we move to your bridge, Captain? The plan now is to return to relatively safe space and … sort things out there."

For the orders given, Dreyer gives a quick, short nod to the Major. The man moves in closer to the downed Twelve and… nudges his shoulder with a toe. Just to, y'know, be sure. He'll wait unil the Doctor clears the skinjob as properly out and doing just dandy otherwise. Once cleared, the MP will get a hand under one shoulder and nod for Randy to go for the other. "I'll keep watch on him," he notes to the engineer. Nope, not gonna let that one slip. That's another conversation he doesn't want to have. Soooo, Sergeant, why weren't you, the MP present, handling watch duty over a prisoner? Noooooo way. Randy can have naptime on the way back.

The Doctor is a bit hesitant, but moves over and takes a knee. He checks the pulse to his watch and then lift's the skinjob's eyelid. A penlight wavers in front of it and he seems satisfied. "I literally gave him enough to knock out a horse. He'll be out for awhile. I hope." He hands over the needle box with extra syringes to Dreyer. "Use these if you need." Meanwhile the Captain nods to Elias. "Absolutely, Major. Please follow me, we'll get underway at your orders."

"Yes, Sir." Lana replies to Elias with a nod of her head. She looks to the marines and then to Bennett, and takes a very specific step aside to create a channel for the marines to move the Cylon towards the Raptor, with the two Raptor crew forming a gauntlet on each side. She turns her side to the marines and looks across the distance, eyes searching for Bennett's, but her lips remaining closed, perhaps obediently, perhaps out of trust, but closed nonetheless.

Randy, having already communicated that this was Dreyer's show, displays no signs of inserting her lack of expertise now. She keeps her rifle trained on the Twelve as it is checked out by the doctor. Then she swivels her rifle so that it's on her back, flicking the safety back on in the process. With nearly a clean foot between her height and Dreyer's, she can fake like she's giving support at the Twelve's other shoulder, but really her contribution is provided at the suspected cylon's waist, wrapping her arm underneath and around it/him. "'Course," Randy returns to Dreyer as they shoulder their charge back to the Raptor. "You want me to handle the extra doses?" which would leave him completely physically free to focus on physical detainment.

"There are more cable ties on board the raptor, if you require them," Bennett explains, breaking her silence at length with characteristic soft spokenness. Cyanide pills too, though now that it seems tensions are diffusing somewhat, she does not bother mentioning them. "Come on, let's get this bus up and running," she tells Lana, pivoting on her heel once the marines have hauled their captive aboard, and ducking into the raptor with one last glance toward Ingrall. She clearly considers going with, but protocol dictates otherwise.

Whatever the rest of the plan was, those in the landing bay experience it as a quick series of three jumps by the Pulse High. The final jump takes the civilian ships and the Linten Group to a rendezvous with one of the Blackjack class Dreadnaughts and some accompany frigates, this new battle group visible off in space once the Orion's raptor gets underway again. Someone thought this mission was important enough to involve a good portion of the fleet. The final part of Elias' plan seems to have undergone some emergency revisions, however, as the Intel Officer is there on the raptor for the return trip. He is grimly quiet, staring pensively at the sedated Twelve for most of the return voyage. Other than final instructions to Dreyer and Randy to move the prisoner to the Orion's brig, the only other thing of note Elias has to say is this. "Inform your chain of command that we've identified a new model. Photos will be distributed by Intel ASAP."

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