AWD #238: Air Briefing 09.01.2005
Air Briefing 09.01.2005
Summary: The pilots and ECOs are briefed on plans for strikes in Cylon territory, and over Cylon-occupied Caprica. Commander Spree makes a special guest appearance.
Date: 01.09.2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Some.
Alejandro Atalanta Bennett Brandy Holtz Jaine Jason Kelsey Maia Phin Warren Dropkickst 
Ready Room — Deck 2 — Battlestar Orion
Capable of seating every member of the wing with space to spare in its stadium organization, the Ready Room has more than two hundred seats and is the largest room on the ship dedicated to single briefings. Sections of desks were manufactured specifically for this and wrap the width of each level of seating, rolling leather seats positioned at even points through each row. The walls have the tenant squadrons' patches painted on individual panels as well as a Kill Board up to the left side of the dais and podium, the Training Board on the other side to log progress. At the rear hatch, on a barren section of wall, is the framed and cased photo of 'Bad Dog' Ruegger.
AWD #238

Warren is way early. In fact it looks like he's been here a while. Down in the front row…yes he's that guy he's got some papers on his desk, his pad on his leg, pen in one hand, the other hand holding a cup of coffee. (repose For Alejandro)

Phin is also early for the show. He slips through the open hatch, balancing a hexagonal notepad and a blue-green ceramic mug of coffee. He proceeds directly to second-row-center. It's as close to a 'usual' spot as he has during these things. It's not directly behind Warren, but it's close enough for comfortable conversation. "Hey, Toast," he says as he settles in.

Jaine wanders into the hatch after Phin with notepad in hand, pen behind an ear, dressed in her blues. Her black hair is left down this afternoon, the hairtie around her wrist just incase she changes her mind. She gives both men a little nod as she finds a spot on the end of a row almost in the back of the room, leaning back inher chair as she sets in to people watch before the briefing begins.

Warren glances over his shoulder as Phin takes a seat and greets him, "Hey Dolly. Mouse." He takes a sip of his coffee before making a note on the pad on his leg, scribbling a few things down. "Glad I'm not the only one early to the briefing," he says mostly to Phin, due to the proximity of the man.

Phin has settled into a seat second-row-center. Not directly behind the chair Warren's taken in front, but close to it. He flips his notepad open to a fresh page, dating the top. That done, he just drinks some of his coffee and waits for the show to begin. It's still a little early, so air crew are only starting to trickle into the Ready Room.

A new face walks in. Decidely scruffy looking, wearing off duty fatigues that have seen better days and could stand to be replaced. Badly needs a shave and a haircut. Dark hair, dark eyes, bronzy tanned skin. The dampness of his hair suggests he got a shower before he shows up at the Ready Room. No sign of rank insignia. Alejandro looks around, later than most to arrive. The fella doesn't know anyone here so he takes a seat and doesn't say anything. He might have been seen in sickbay or the recovery ward.

Stepping in from the corridor outside, Jason moves for his normal seat a bit towards the back. Once he gets into his seat, he looks around a bit carefully, nodding a bit to the others present.

Jaine is almost in the very back of the room on the end of a row, notepad on the little writing top, pen still behind her ear. She folds her legs at the ankles, given Warren a smile, "Toast." She offers before she falls silent again. Her hands rest on the table top, fingertips gently drumming against the surface as she watches folks filter into the Ready Room with her hazel eyes darting about.

Kelsey is here. She's in her blues. Notepad, coffee, check check.

Warren is turning out to be more and more 'that guy'. You all know him, the one guy who has the audacity to sit front row center while everyone else is filling up the back seats, and he was the first one there to boot. Yup thats Warren. He takes another sip of his coffee before setting the mug down, and aranging some of his papers on the desk and flipping his pad to a new page there on his thigh as he notes the time.

The new - and very scruffy - stranger gets a curious look from Phin. It almost qualifies as staring. But he looks back at his own notes before it gets too impolite. Pilots are filing in as meeting time nears. Those who were early have mostly already claimed seats. Phin, for example, is second-row-center in his 'usual' spot.

Brandy arrives with a leather folder containing a yellow legal pad and a pair of pens, the nice quality would almost be impressive if it weren't clear from the logos they were some vendor gift. She looks around and heads to the back, taking up a seat not far from Jaine. A few nods to others gets ready to take notes after a "Hi, Mouse."

Commander Spree, the ranking officer in charge of all resistance operations on the Colonies, is here. She's in her mottled green fatigues with the ever-present sidearm. She's seated on the edge of a table off to the side with a large folder sitting next to her. She doesn't seem to be in a highly entertainable mood.

Bennett drifts into the ready room a touch late, and smelling faintly of spicy clove cigarettes. In fact, she's fanning a hand in front of her face not-so-subtly just before she slips through the hatch, and pausing to dust a few flecks of ash from her otherwise tidy blues jacket. Then, eschewing a desk, she steps off to one side and takes up a sentrylike position against the adjoining wall. Her notepad and pen come out, and her eyes turn to the front after a brief glance over the unfamiliar face.

By the time Holtz enters, a significant crowd has already gathered in the ready room, the dull hush of scattered conversations likely obscuring his entrance. He's wearing a pair of faded green fatigues, his hair looking as if he's taken a shower in the recent past. There's a long look at the unfamiliar face and ragged uniform of Alejandro before Holtz settles in next to Phin with a muttered word or two to the younger man.

"Hey, Storm," Phin mutters to Holtz as the older pilot joins him. His eyes idly scan the room. Spotting Spree. Blink. "Is that…?" Recognition is there, but slight. He's been to Picon a time or two, but hasn't spent any terribly long lay-overs there. He sits up straighter.

Warren doesn't much glance about the room, though Bennett being off to the side and Holtz sliding in behind him next to Phin both draw nods from the LT. He makes a note on his pad before taking a sip from his coffee. He glances over his shoulder to Phin, then up to the front to see what Phin is refering to.

Holtz doesn't know Spree by sight, but there can't be that many women with the rank of Commander left in the fleet, and it definitely isn't Faulkner. "Spree?" He finishes Phin's question quietly. "Yeah, guessin' so." He doesn't look entirely pleased at the sight of her, either. Clearly he hasn't forgotten the reception he received from her men back on Picon all those months ago.

Jaine smiles warmly to Brandy as she comes up the seating towards her own spot. She lifts her hand and waves a little bit, "Hello Ensign. We really need to figure out a callsign for you." She giggles a bit as she pulls the pen from her ear, licking the tip before she begins writing out the date along the top of the pad, gently flicking the end of the pen against the paper as she watches the place fill up.

Alejandro sees someone's dropped a pen on the floor. The scruffy fella out of uniform bends over to pick it up. He doesn't have anything with him to write on unless folders of papers are going to be handed out so he starts idly winding the pen back and forth through the fingers of one hand while he waits and listens. He occationally looks at the people sitting around him.

The DCAG is not one for being tardy. On the contrary, she puts a premium on punctuality and thus she's usually arrived wherever she's due long before the appointed time. So to have her arrive exactly two minutes after the clock has struck 1300 is unusual, to say the least. It's not the only unusual thing about her, though. Normally, the woman wears a cool, collected facade — a mask of professionalism. Today, it's been replaced by a harsh scowl, an expression which indicates she's in a mood as foul as she was at her first briefing, at the announcement of all the deaths at Hebe. (Maybe an even worse mood, honestly.) She strides silently down the stairs to the front of the room, where she rests a thick folder, her notepad, and datapad on its surface. "Gentlemen," she says tersely. "Resume your seats." Anyone preparing to stand at attention will be playing musical chairs, it seems. "We have business to attend to."

Warren did start to stand when he caught a glimpse of the DCAG walking down towards the front, and then theres the call to sit so he stops that and slips back down and takes a sip of his coffee. He does note the scowl and the terse tone, scribbling something down on his pad while waiting to see whats coming.

Phin rises for Atalanta's entrance, then seats again when she calls for it. The expression on the bosslady's face is noted. He winces slight. That doesn't bode well. He takes a drink of his coffee, fixing eyes forward and mentally bracing himself.

Bennett tracks Atalanta's path to the front of the room in her silent, unobtrusive way. The deep frown on the DCAG's face prompts a faint moue of concern, a crease between her brows that doesn't fade even when the other woman begins to speak. No saluting from her, though she does elect to remain standing rather than claim a desk. Perhaps so she can flit away again at the end of the briefing, rather than having to fight the crowd.

Jaine stands up, tossing a crisp salute at the DCAG as she heads down the stairs, returning to her seat shortly after the command to do so. She tosses another smile at Brandy, motioning the pilot to take the seat next to hers while she writes out a list of those attending on her notepad.

Like the others, the stranger moves to stand when the others do. He doesn't know the DCAG's face but Jandro takes his cues and picks out her rank insignia upon entry. OK, sit down again, pay attention.

Jason started moving to stand, but ends up seating himself again before he really gets up. Nodding a little as he listens, letting out a brief breath now.

Up and down for the arrival of the senior officer, though down a little closer to the ECO officer and a hand snags her pad over as she. She smiles to Mouse once, but looks forward as she starts to get ready to take notes.

"There are four orders of business which we'll be seeing to today. I will be addressing the first two, then taking questions. The third will be addressed by Commander Spree, who has brought the request. Some of the information which she will be sharing with us today will be difficult to hear, particularly for those of you from the capital. Please hold any questions that you may have for her until the appropriate time." It's a hell of introduction, really. Dropping a bomb like that, without any explanation? "First, let me begin by confirming what I assume many of you have already heard — President Adar is dead, at the hands of our own Marines. Footage of his death is available for viewing for those of you who feel the need to see it with you own eyes, but be aware that is is quite graphic. May the gods punish him as he is due for his litany of sins." Franklin says this without so much as a blink, or a flash of hesitation.

Warren's pen goes to work as Atia begins talking. An eyebrow does raise about the mention of bad news about the capital. Theres definately a note made down about that and double underline. Another note again as Atia begins getting ready for the first real briefing, again underlined.

Jaine starts writing down a few things, absently scribbling across her pad while her eyes stay on the front, a glance over Commander Spree with her hazel eyes. Her left hand comes to her hair, idly toying with her bangs as she listens.

"Our second order of business is a strike which will be conducting, beyond the Armstice Line." In short, Franklin has just announced that they'll be flying into Cylon territory. The projector flicks to life, revealing a photograph of a massive green gas giant, surrounded by orbiting moons and a white… blob, really. "Some time ago, at Lieutenant McBride's suggestion, a Raptor crew was sent into Cylon territory to seek out potential targets. We identified two, with this being the more valuable of them." Zoom in to a moon, the entirety of which seems to be covered in heavy equipment. For those familiar, it's mining equipment. The white blob? A basestar, though there's another large, white, cylindrical ship in orbit. It isn't remotely recognizable in any way. "We have determined this to be a lunar tylium mine, one which extends over most of the moon's surface."

None of what's been mentioned thus far seems to be any surprise to Bennett. Nevertheless, she dutifully takes a few notes when the mining operation is mentioned, pen skimming paper in her lefthanded scrawl.

Alejandro blinks at the DCAG's news of going /into/ Cylon space. He puts his pen into the fingers of his right hand and starts jotting down a couple of notes on the skin along the inside of his arm. It'll scrub off later, right?

Warren takes notes as he watches the screen, and a lot of them at that. There are questions, notes, things double and tripple underlined. Either way he's working on filling up that page with the copious notes.

Jason nods a bit as he sees those pictures, leaning forward a little, before he looks back to his notes now.

Bennett spots the FNG with no notepad, and smirks slightly to herself. She discreetly tears off a few sheets of paper from her own, and steps over to slide them onto his desk before resuming her post against the bulkhead wall, blue eyes to the front of the room.

Phin's writing is less furious on this part. But, then, he's been involved in the preliminary planning for it. Mention of Adar made him glance over at Spree, but his attention was quickly directed back to the screen proper.

Brandy studies the images, leaning forward just a bit for the blurred ones till the refocus. Her hands scrall the unidentified object as a little pictograph on the margin around where she takes notes. A few little notes and guessing stetchs as she tries to compare this other craft to the basestar by proportion and other size markers. Oh, yes, getting ready for Q & A quickly.

Jaine curls a strand of her bangs up along her index finger as she looks over the projection screen and the photos, drawing the cyclindrical ship and putting a large question mark next to it, jotting down a few other things that are said as well.

"The goal here is not destruction, but chaos, all in the hopes that if we raise enough panic and confusion among the Cylons, our enemy will be forced to withdraw a portion of the forces from Colonial space, thereby lessening our loses at the upcoming battle for Picon." A laser pointer is aimed at the projector, highlighting what they believe to be the most vulnerable points of the mining operation. "As such, Raptors will be loaded with incendiary rounds intended for targets here, here, here, and here." Franklin's green eyes turn from their targets to the room, whom she regards coolly. "I want the whole thing burning by tomorrow night, gentleman, and our enemy scrambling desperately to put the fires out, or lose the entire moon." A beat, and then, "We'll be accompanied by the heavy cruiser King's Bay, the light cruiser Cygnes, and the flak frigates Landry and Selenz. They will be targetting the basestar in the hopes of destroying it before Raiders can be launched, while our Viper pilots will deal with any fighters they get in the air, in order to provide cover for our Raptor crews."

The Captain gets a big smile when she slides Alejandro a few sheets of paper. "Thanks" he mouths without adding any voice that might distract from the briefing. He spits on a finger and rubs at the notes he began on his arm and once it's smeared mostly off, he starts to rewrite on the top sheet of paper. Oh boy, lots to take down now, if not in detail, certainly in interest. A glance up at the DCAG as she continues to speak.

Warren flips to a new page on his pad as he takes notes and writes something in larger font and holds it up over his shoulder towards Phin and looks to him a moment. All it says is 'Sims Tonight?'. After he's sure the other LT's seen it he brings it back down making a few more notes on the previous page.

Jaine scribbles down 'lots of fire' underneath her drawing of the moon on the projection, unraveling the strand of haira round her finger and doing it again with another section of her bangs. Her glance casts side to Brandy, looking over the pilot's notes for a moment before she's back to the DCAG up front.

The FNG is at least paying attention. Probably nobody can read his hand writing though. Looks like Sandscrit or some shit. Gods help whoever has to read his paperwork.

Bennett's smile vanishes completely when the numbers and figures are given, details she's not been privy to yet, even if she was involved in the general tactical planning. She jots down a few more things, squinting slightly at the screen to make out a couple of the locations.

Franklin's laser pointer than shifts to the cylindrical ship, focusing an angry red dot into the center of it. It is, in many ways, all too reminiscent of the eyes of the Raiders that they've all encountered. "This we've been told is an unarmed cargo transport. Though we've been unable to confirm the information provided by our source, you'll not the lack of launch ports that are commonly displayed on their basestars. As such, I don't believe that there are Raiders aboard, though I cannot speak to any other weaponry which they may or may not have available." The woman's lips press into a thin line, slowly losing their natural pale pink color, in favor of an unpleasant shade of fleshy white. "The same unconfirmed source has brought us additional intelligence, which is the subject of our next mission…."

Warren jots down more notes as the other ship is tentitively identified as a cargo ship. Theres a eyebrow thats raised a moment as there's talks of a source for this intell, but he just keeps jotting down more notes. As the talk of the next mission starts up he's flipping pages to start taking a fresh page of notes.

"We have been informed that there is a refueling station within Cylon territory that is, at any given time, home to approximately six basestars. Furthermore, that it takes roughly a week to refuel and resupply the ships, during which time they are reported to be largely unmanned." Franklin taps the end of her laser pointer against the wood of the podium, making several soft, sharp thuds as she does so. The gesture is accompanied by a further frown from the DCAG, before she continues. "As we have no secondary source of intelligence, we will be sending one Raptor crew to the coordinates that I've been provided to scout the area. The mission is recon, not confrontation, and will require a high level of caution. To be perfectly blunt, the coordinates could be the heart of some foreign sun, for all I know. As such, I will begin by taking volunteers. If there are none, I will make an assignment."

Phin has taken to doodling, trying to sketch a semblance of the strange ship amidst his notes. It's not really a functional diagram. He gulps some more coffee, before returning to his scribbling as the DCAG continues.

Alejandro looks like he's wondering what the hell he's landed in here. He stares at the screen and has stopped taking notes for a breath or three before he looks about. Where'd that coffee come from? He doesn't get up. An exhale of breath to himself and then back to padding his notes with more details.

Warren frowns at the sound of that, making some notes at that. He makes notes a moment or two about the mission before he starts glancing around to see who's going to volunteer to make the jump for this one.

Bennett looks up at mention of volunteers, and speaks after clearing her throat lightly, "I will fly it, sir. Or delegate as necessary." Her gaze flickers over the other scattered representatives of the Ghosts, and she notes Jaine sat next to Brandy with a small nod.

Jaine scribbles away with her right hand, left still playing with her hair, though at the mention of volunteers she raises her left hand a little and speaks up, as much as she can muster as her face flushes, "I'll go if none of the other ECO's want to." THen her hand drops back down and her eyes advert to her pad as she quits scribbling for a moment, flipping pages, pondering what to write out next before she sets in

"I'll leave it in your hands to decide then, Captain," Franklin says with a sharp nod to Bennett, taking the time to point out Jaine's upraised hand to her before setting her laser pointer down against the rim of the podium. "Now, are there any questions regarding these two missions? If not, then I will cede the room to Commander Spree and her… guest." The word is said with a bit of a sneer — one the woman may be unconscious she's made.

Questions, ah yes its time for that bit. Warren looks back at his notes a moment as theres the note about the 'guest' and the way its said. Warren tenses up a bit and frowns at that, making a few notes on a third page now as he listens to any questions that are brought up.

Phin has no questions of his own, doing more coffee-gulping. He's pretty much emptied his cup, which he sets carefully down on the floor next to the leg of his seat.

Alejandro speaks up, "Sir? What time for departure for tomorrow?" Like, how much time does he have to get his butt in order? "And who'll be mission leader?"

Jaine raises her hand again now that it's question time waiting for Alejandro to finish before she pipes up, "Excuse me sir, but what makes us think setting tylium mines on fire will make the Cylons withdraw? If I were in their shoes that would be the last thing I did, I would bringing up reserves from where ever the frak their home world is and dealing with the fire that way instead of pulling back combat assets."

Bennett looks up to the front, and holds the DCAG's gaze for an instant when the decision is effectively handed off to her. She nods slightly, scribbles something down with a question mark beside it, and looks to Commander Spree. And the bus driver may be one of the few in this room to whom the superior officer is a familiar face. Her expression is studiously neutral as she listens to hands go up and questions fly.

Spree seems to take a cue and she rises off the table and clears her throat. This woman doesn't generally sugarcoat. "Alright boys and girls, you've got strikes doled out for over the line operations. This is going to draw the canners back across the line. They can't defend everything at once and taking out a major logistical point like one of those stations is seriously going to frak up their fleet ops. Hitting their fueling mines isn't made to cause problems rather than commit forces and spread them out. Reserves committed one place cannot be committed elsewhere." Spree is a Marine and this is a war. Feisty. "It'll pave the way for invading Picon. But before that happens, we've got one more matter of business." Her voice is stern, eyes taking a cold look. "At this very moment the Cylons are hosting a vote on occupied planets to replace both the People's Council and the Quorum with their own stooges. In order to vote, you must be a member in good standing with the Cylon's own form of a political party. In order to run, I kid you not, you must be a person with a proven, physical track record of loyalty to the Cylons." She stares at them. "In practical terms, that means bodycounts. We've got intelligence assets to back this up and Major Franklin has reviewed it on her own I suspect." The Commander glances to the dour mood of the Major and then back. "Every single one of these people running for office is on a list of people we have suspected or proven as being guilty of atrocities. Our last reports out of sources within the government, which are now silent, say that the Council's first order of business will be to effectively and literally burn the Articles of Colonization and then vote in new ones." Spree turns to the folder beside her at the table, picks it up, then drops it back down. "Review the intel at your leisure when this over and I'll bring in our guest for you to speak with. NOW. These people 'running for office' are war criminals and the political game being played is similar to the setting for the genocide of ethnic Gemenese by the Kalinist regime on Picon two hundred years ago." 180 million estimated killed in secretive death camps. "Major Jankovic is the colonial commander of all resistance forces on Caprica. He currently has roughly two hundred members of the legitimate government of the Twelve Colonies, and their families, hidden around Caprica. They are ready to step up if we can ever win this shit sandwich, but it should be clear to every one of you that there is absolutely nothing legitimate about this election. Sadly, Caprica is extremely cut off and the two billion people currently living there think that the war is over and all resistance is just token. They are preparing to copitulate in spirit."

Alejandro waits, doesn't ask again. Somebody will point him towards whoever he'll be reporting to and taking his orders from for the mission. Meanwhile he gives his attention over to the Colonel and starts taking more notes.

Franklin's eyes narrow slightly at Jaine, squinting as though she may be able to identify the name on her tags from here. The face is unfamiliar, but the pins? The pins will do. "The tylium mine mission will be the first of several strikes conducted behind Cylon lines, Lieutenant—," she cuts off, as Spree takes the floor. One brown brow arches sharply at that, but she says absolutely nothing whatsoever in reply.

Well thats a kick in the balls…Warren's gaze narrows a bit as the torrent of reminders that we are at war and a war we are not really close to winning come out. He makes a few notes on his pad, though he does glance up at Atia fairly often, judging her reactions to things.

Brandy waits for her turn, the kinds of things she will ask are a little mission specific and she spreads her pen marks liberally over the page as raises her hand and waits for her turn. Despite the causal nature of the conference, the ensign will hop out of her seat and start smartly from parade rest, "Sirs, do we know the range to target of the Raptor that acquired the recon shots? If they were undetected, will we use that as our starting point or have we extrapulated a closer hot jump point?" She just sucks it up though as the familiar Spree steps up and speaks. Once her question is acknowledged, she'll retreat to her seat anyway. Of course all of that technical stuff might come out in a mission folder.. so.

Phin's eyes widen slight as Spree steps up and speaks of the situation on Caprica. A slim frown comes to his features. A hand goes up, for question purposes.

Bennett still does not put her hand up or step forward to ask any questions. She's looking a little bit ill, quite honestly, and keeps her gaze forward rather than on her squadron as they're bombarded with the finer points of the mission proposal.

Jason raises an eye a little bit as he listens now, shrugging a bit to himself, as he makes a few notes now.

"We do know the jump point that was used by the reconaissance flight at the tylium mine, Ensign Aphordeen, and we've calculated a slightly closer one to be used for the mission, so as not to give them any undue advantage," Franklin replies. She then looks to Phin, asking with remarkable calm, given the announcement which Spree has just made. "Lieutenant McBride, if your question pertains to either of the missions that I've mentioned, please hold it until after the Commander has addressed the issue with the government's induction at Avery Hall. Her time aboard the Orion is limited, but I will be available for the duration of the meeting and afterwards." Her lips purse into a petite moue, before she nods to the Marine, indicating that she will deal with any questions pertaining to the two missions which she's already covered after Spree has finished.

Jaine lowers her hand as her question is addressed, her attention turning to Brandy as she stands up, leaning her cheek against her left ahdn as her hazel eyes flick from the Ensign to the fore.

Continuing, Spree keeps her steady gaze. "The Cylons have been planning this election for weeks. People are voting but there are no write-ins and its suspected the decisions have been made in advance. They've been advertising a very public swearing in of all of the new 'electors' at once. Its going to take place on the grounds out front of Avery Hall a week from today." She looks at all of them. "I've requested from Major Atalanta for volunteers to hit this ceremony and strike them directly. Much like Adar's assassination, this will be a live event broadcast on all the networks. The plan is apparently to saturate the colonies with a notice that the Cylons are firmly in control." She takes a large breath. "Air defenses will be very heavy and we're expecting them to have assets parked on the streets. My own CAGs have told me a high altitude approach will likely be out due to Raider coverage up at altitude. Down in the city, you can run and hide. Its going to be the only way in and out." She folds her hands behind her back. "This operation will be extremely risky for all flight crews. I need four full Predator crews. The ships are already on Caprica, armed, and fueled. All volunteers will meet at my command post before the mission where they will present their legally-drawn Last Will, dogtags, and affirm their intent. Cyanide will be given to all aircrews in the event that they wish to avoid capture. ECO's: Your knowledge of the location of Piraeus cannot be allowed to fall into enemy hands. Bare this in mind." Spree pauses there for that to settle in. "I'll take questions, but the Major will take her volunteers in the manner she chooses."

Jaine sticks the end of her pen between her lips as she listens about the bombing. Killing civilians, Cylon war criminals or not, makes a twitch go over her features. Her tongue pushes against the pen a few times before she pulls it out from her lips and begins writing down notes, left hand pushing her bangs out of her face as her face hangs low to the notepad. She's not going to throw her hand up, the Captain already knows she wants to volunteer.

"My question pertains to the Caprica operation, sir," Phin says to Atalanta, before directing his attention to Spree. He's not volunteering just yet. "Sir, in the past we've encountered evidence that the Cylons are using, like…surgical implants and brainwashing on humans." He tries to keep his tone neutral about this, but he can't quite. It chills him. As do, perhaps, many things about the description of the mission. But he keeps his question tailored. "Do you have any idea if the occupying force on Caprica might be doing this to the people they're trying to put in charge? Or the citizens at large on the planet?"

Back in her seat, Brandy jots down a quick little note on the next page and folds it before passing it off to Jaine. Simple and to the point, -Have you ever done a hot jump with weapons on a Raptor? I need sim time on that.- Her eyes go back to Spree, and she winces. Toaster killing, fun. People killing, not so much.

Warren blinks a few moments as Spree continues. But after that pause he's quickly taking notes on the mission thats up for grabs so to speak. He sits there a moment considering things taking a deep breath before looking over towards Phin as his question goes out before looking up at Atia and Spree and listening.

Jaine opens up the note and looks it over, twerking her scarred lips as she writes a reply, -Only once, but yeah I was thinking we'd hit the sims tonight. I think the Captain is doing a drill as well.-, folding it up and passing it back over as she formulates her own questions. The biggest one on her mind is why the civilians, but thats too obvious. Morale, taking out the link between Cylons and human government. Crucial stuff if we want to take back the colonies, so she keeps an attentive ear on the fore for more note scribbling for now.

Jason listens rather thoughtfully, before he hears the part about the volunteers. Looking a bit thoughtful, he pauses as he hears Phin's question, offering the man a nod now.

Sitting in the back and remaining quietly taking notes during the meeting, Maia is keeping up to speed on the happenings and the pending missions. Lifting her gaze to Spree as she talks, her pen stills as the details of the mission unfold. It was pretty straightforward and she has no immediate questions about it except to herself. Was she up for it? This is the only time she's ever hesitated to even ask herself before volunteering and the threat of death is very likely. At the moment, there is no hand raised from her as she continues contemplating it in silence.

Bennett keeps a brave face on, but it's clear she's having trouble listening to the words coming out of the Marine Commander's mouth. Someone watching her carefully might notice that she seems to have mentally checked out; her mind is elsewhere while more questions are asked and answered, and tension builds in the room.

The Commander looks to Phin and nods. "Currently we have roughly eighty thousand people on Caprica that have gone missing and or returned with those implants. We're referring to them as Jacks for now. The cylons are taking entire families, and in one case an entire town, who sympathize with the resistance or are causing them problems. We have other reports some have volunteered for this. However the rate of these disappearances and modifications is increasing. Markedly."

Franklin's fingers drum on the top of the podium which she's posed in front of, her nails tapping out a steady, but rapid, beat. "I will take volunteers in writing. Letters are to be left at my office on deck one, affirming that you fully understand the risks of this mission and affirming that you are committing to it of your own free will, and not under the influence of any of your commanding officers, including your squadron leaders." The words, when she says them, are positively frigid. Gods, is it any wonder that she's in the mood she is, given the name stamped onto her tags?? She may well be committing a portion of the Wing to killing her own family, for all she knows. For all the contact they've had with the Colonies in the last nine months.

"Thank you, sir. I was just wondering if Command had anticipated how a population so thoroughly under Cylon control would respond to this kind of assassination." That was apparently also a question. Sort of. Which, despite the Professional Young Officer manner he's trying to project, plainly makes Phin uncomfortable. Both the mission, and the asking about it. "Umm…those were all my questions, sir. I'm done now." And he sinks back into his chair.

Jaine begins drafting our her letter of consent right here right now, but first the hand holding her pen comes up as Phin sinks down, "Perhaps we could use distractions around other parts of the colony to make the air security around the place a little looser, anything like that in the works or are we just going to ram in with everything we frakkin' got and a few prayers to the Gods?"

Spree nods to Phin. "After the assassination of Adar the Marines involved reported minor revolts on the street with people shooting." Looking to Jaine, she shakes her head. "I'd advise against it. Inviting activity and attention will probably only be seen as a distraction and alert the Cylons that you all are incoming. The route in through the city I will leave up to you all, same with the overalls for the operation. We can get you all in. Extraction will be performed soon after. Search and Rescue for downed aircrews will be spotty at best."

Warren takes a deep breath as he listens. He's certainly mulling things over in his head it seems as he looks down at his notes and picks up his coffee. He's looking calmer, as if he's come to some sort of decision in his head at this point. Even so he does look up to Atia, watching her a moment before back to his notes.

Bennett's jaw sets slightly at the words 'spotty at best' in regards to combat search and rescue operations. Spree is talking to the wrong woman, if she's looking for no argument on that point. Instead of disrupting the meeting, however, she makes a prominent note on her page, and circles it.

Phin looks more broody about this mission than particularly eager to volunteer. But he was apparently serious about being done asking questions. Here, at least. He sits and broods quietly over his notes.

Tapping her pen on her chin, Maia looks lost alternately lost in thought then extremely aware of her surroundings. Pressing her lips together, her jawline tightens as she rips off the top sheet of her paper, carefully folds it into a perfect square and slips it into a pocket before she begins writing what looks to be a letter offering herself as a volunteer if anyone happened to look back and see what it says. Very precisely, she writes each letter, carefully dotting each i and crossing her t's. Too much care is being taken while she writes but her face is oddly devoid of expression.

Franklin's gaze sweeps over the room, noting the look on each and every one of their faces. "Very well, then. If no one else has any questions left for Commander Spree, we'll return to taking questions on the first two missions beyond the Armstice Line. If there are no questions regarding those two missions, I'll bring the briefing to a close." She inhales deeply, holding the rush of air in her chest for several long, drawn out moments before exhaling in a rush.

There's a few deep breaths as he listens, and then Jason looks around at the others present, offering them a brief smile. Focusing back to the front again now.

Warren raises a hand and slowly stands when acknowledge, "Sir, timing wise what are we looking at with the missions at hand? Specifically the Tyllium mine and Caprica. Whats the turn around on those two?"

Alejandro shifts in his seat and has been pretty quiet for most of this, listening, taking notes, watching the reactions of the others. The F'n New Guy has filled up a sheet and a half, almost two pages, with seemingly unreadable scrawl. No questions from him at the moment.

Bennett looks toward Warren when he asks his question. It's possibly the first time she's taken her eyes off the senior officers at the front, for the entirety of this briefing. Even so, it seems her mind is working away at something behind those pale, distant eyes.

Jaine nods at the answer, crossing out a few other questions she had along those lines and then wrapping a strand of haira round her left index finger again as she looks over what she's jotted. Warren's question peaks her attention, hazel eyes glancing back up and pen poised to write down the answer.

Phin's eyes flit up from his notes at Warren, though he still seems reluctant to meet the gaze of anyone in the room. He listens. He writes.

"We'll be hitting the tylium mine tomorrow evening. The Caprica bombing will be, as I believe Commander Spree said, held in a week's time." Franklin swallows thickly at that, forcing down a lump in her throat before it can do anything odd or embarrassing to her voice, in front of her men. "I would suggest that anyone who intends to volunteer log as much sim time as they can in the Predators between then and now, as I do not recommend being left behind on the day of. The strike on the refueling station hasn't been scheduled yet, and will likely depend on how well the other missions go."

Warren nods calmly at that noting Atia's tone and body language, "Thank you, Sir." With that he takes his seat once more, jotting a few things down. Few notes here and there, as he flips through his pages of notes.

Franklin waits a few moments more, taking in the expression on each of her pilot's faces one by one by one. Their sullen looks, their worried frowns, their hesistation. A nod comes from her, as though she's satisfied by the reluctance and confusion which they've all displayed. "As there doesn't seem to be any more questions from anyone, you're all dismissed." There's not another word from her. She simply shuts the projector off and begins gathering her small collection of things.

Jaine jots down the last of her thoughts and conclusions about the various missions outline in the briefing, licking the writing end of the pen one more tiem before she sets in. She stays seated, watching the DCAG up front after her pen falls still, twirling her bangs around her index finger as she then scans the crowd, waiting for the briefing rom to mostly empty out before she stands up.

Phin stands once the briefing has been dismissed. Not that he leaves. He makes his way down to try and catch Atalanta before she leaves. He apparently did have questions, just not the kind he wanted to ask the whole room.

The New Guy stretches out his legs and rakes a hand through his too long dark hair. Doesn't look like he's shaved in weeks, plenty of beard started. He pops his back and waits for the wrapping up, then rolls his head around on his shoulders to pop his neck as well. Alejandro finally stands and collects his papers, "Somebody want to direct me to find the Quarter Master so I can get some clothes, a bunk assignment, find out who I'm to report to?" His tenor sounds like he might be from Scorpia but it's hard to tell.

Jason nods a little bit, taking a few more notes as he looks around, remaining in his seat for a few moments longer as he studies the various people present at the moment. Expression a bit thoughtful now.

Warren flips his notebook closed and stands slowly, setting it on his desk before he walks over towards Major Franklin. "Major, if you're available later I'd like to have a word or two with you in private," he says glancing over towards Phin and giving him a nod. He only waits for a moment for her answer before he starts heading back towards his desk to gather his things. Ah the advantages of the front row, quick access to whomever is doing the briefing afterwards.

Quietly, in the back of the room, Maia finishes composing her letter. Rising, she walks to the front of the room, boots thudding softly on the floor as she approaches the desk and places her letter on it. Green mile, yeah? Once it's deposited, she turns back towards the room, deliberately avoiding looking at anyone in particular before she heads back towards the door.

Bennett closes her notepad and clicks off her pen, stepping aside to allow the imminent exodus of aircrew through the hatch unimpeded. She looks like she's debating approaching the DCAG for a few off-the-record questions, but in the end she turns instead for the exit. As Maia passes by at roughly the same time, she steps in close to speak something quietly to her squadmate.

"Of course, Lieutenant Smythe," she says to Warren, stopping in her movements only to brush a few stray wisps of wavy blonde hair back off of her brow. "You're welcome to drop by my office or, if you don't find me there, the berths." Then the DCAG is chewing on her cheek for a moment, before looking to Phin. "Yes, Lieutenant McBride?," Franklin says crisply, her upperclass Caprican accent so distinct, she also inserts an 'F' into the rank.

"Sir, Commander Spree mentioned they had evidence of war crimes committed by the people they were asking us to bomb," Phin begins. He's talking at a faster clip than usual. It speaks of nerves, or just a want to get all of this out quickly without having to dwell on what he's saying. "Is that available for us to review? The evidence, I mean. And…like, if this attack is going to be done over a population center…has Command done estimates of what kind of civilian casualties outside the targets we can expect? And could I look at that, too, sir?" He has no volunteer letter with him as of yet.

"The records which Commander Spree gave me indicating their guilt are currently with Major Holtz. I gave them to him to review this afternoon. You're welcome to take a look at them if you like," she says, looking down at her files for a moment before refocusing her stare intently on his face. "But let me assure you, if I had the slightest inkling that any of her intelligence was in doubt, I'd spend the rest of the war willingly sitting in the brig before accepting this order." There isn't an ounce of hesitation or hyperbole in her voice, in her face. Chances are, she's already given serious consideration to telling the woman that she'd sooner spend eternity in the darkest pit of Tartarus than bomb her own people, and damn whatever consequences she might face for it.

Alejandro gets no reply again so he shrugs and folds his papers over once, taking the pen to tuck it into his shirt pocket with his folded up notes. He turns to make his way towards the door, following the others out in his turn. Blunder around, find his way.

Bennett pauses but a moment at the question from Phin. Then turns and slips out, her expression largely unreadable.

Bennett leaves, heading toward the Air Wing Corridors [Out].

Warren glances up a bit somewhat overhearing Atia's response to phin, afterall first row, but doesn't say anything. He finishes off his coffee and picks up his notes, tucking them under his arm before he starts to pull out a pack of smokes as he heads out of the room.

One could be forgiven for thinking Holtz wasn't here. After all, he'd been uncommonly silent and still all the way throughout the briefing. But when Atia gives her dismissal, he's there, rising with all the rest. He directs a look at Phin and Warren as they approach the DCAG before making for the hatch, features sober and expression distant.

Hesitating at the words from Bennett, Maia offers a ghost of a smile. "I wish," she speaks quietly in return before continuing her exit, pausing once more at the 'new guy' there. With a nod and another partial smile, she motions towards the hatch. "You had the grand tour yet?"

Brandy closes up her note book, places her pens away and stands from her seat. She takes a slow breath, she is not yet ready to commit to the Caprica mission. Her eyes scan over the room a little and she looks to the door. Any other questions she has can wait. Time to go tap the rations and think.

Warren leaves, heading toward the Air Wing Corridors [Out].

"I'm sure you would, sir, I didn't mean to imply otherwise, sir, I just wanted to look at the information for myself to see if I could…I mean, I'm sure Command wouldn't issue orders on something like this without…it just seems to me, sir, that…" Phin is just kind of babbling uncomfortably now. "I'll…umm…just take a look at those records when Major Holtz is finished with them, sir. Thank you, sir." With that, he turns to take his leave of the Ready Room.

Jaine is tapping her pen against her notepad as she watches the folks mill about, exit through the hatch, approach the DCAG. That new guy gets up and wanders away, her hazel eyes following him. She waves at Brandy as the Ensign pilot gets up and wanders through the row for the hatch, "See you later, I'm going to grab some food at the mess and then we'll see if the Captain has any drills in the sims tonight."

Alejandro stops by the hatch, letting others out past him when Maia speaks. "No I haven't yet. Need to find my way around. Asked probably a dozen people to find my way here." He smiles and offers Maia a hand, "Name's Salazar, Lt. Alejandro Salazar. Been stuck in your sickbay since I arrived."

Brandy turns back and nods towards Jaine, "See you latter." she calls back, then she is out the door at a dirge pace.

Brandy leaves, heading toward the Air Wing Corridors [Out].

Jason finally starts getting out of the chair now, shrugging a little to himself as he does. Glancing around again very briefly now.

Once at the hatch, Maia remains at a careful distance from the opening so that she doesn't block it while she speaks with Alejandro. His hand is taken and given a firm shake, nothing manly or anything, but not those overtly feminine floppy fish things either. "Maia Kane," a brief nod in acknowledgement of his recent home in the medbay. "Good to see you out then and welcome aboard. Have you found the berthings yet?"

Alejandro shakes his head, "No, I was still in a hospital gown right before the briefing. Handed these clothes, taken to the head to shower and change, then given directions to show up here." He eyes the few who haven't left yet, "Sort of a surprise to me, all this. Out of the frying pan and into the fire."

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License