AWD #223: Bennett's Statement
Bennett's Statement
Summary: Lleufer interviews Captain Bennett for her official statements concerning the stabbing of LtJG Watkins on the Pallas Evacuation Mission.
Date: 17/08/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: AWD #211: Investigation
Lleufer Bennett 
Raptor Squadron, Deck 2 - Battlestar Orion
The berthings for the Orion's Air Wing are the same as what one would find on any other Mercury-class Battlestar, though they are distinctly different from the rest of the bunks on the ship. These bunks are separated not into sections of sixty, but by squadron. That means that there is a little more room to move around with only twenty to twenty-five pilots in one bunkhouse. Some officers have brought a small rug to sit in front of their bunks, but the tables and chairs are standard military issue. At the rear is a small couch that was probably new when the ship left anchorage and seems to have been kept carefully clean. The crest of the Gentlemen Ghosts has been painted onto the wall behind the couch, as well.
August 17th, 2005

The Ghosts' berthings are relatively quiet this afternoon. A patrol's just gone out, and another's returned, and most crew seem to be either shoveling food in the mess hall or getting in a good soak in the head. Captain Saint Clair, workaholic that she often is, has a pile of paperwork on the table — one folder open — and a half an apple held between her teeth as she pulls on clothing. She looks to have already showered; her dark hair hangs in damp, unruly waves about her face and shoulders.

Lleufer's on duty and that is what brings him down to deck 2, where as deck 3 is more his usual stomping grounds. The Marine MP has an electric wheel chair to help get him around since his left arm is in a sling. Lleu has an electronic tablet tucked into one side pocket and a cane tucked in the back. The faint sound of the chair can be heard a moment before he stops outside of the berthing. He glances around before he carefully manuvers the chair in and starts to cruise past bunks, looking for someone. Can't even roll the stupid chair around with his own arms, damnit.

Even in the midst of multitasking between three things, Bennett cannot possibly miss the distinctive hum of the wheelchair. It isn't a sound one hears around here often. Her head turns slightly, blue eyes tracking the familiar face for a few seconds. Then, fatigue trousers fastened, she takes a bite out of her apple and sets it aside. "Hello, Sergeant," once she's chewed and swallowed. "Are you looking for someone?" Tanks are next, though she seems in no particular hurry to cover up; a goodly amount of ink decorates her body, ranging from intricate flowers and vines to a couple of pinup girls, to an odd little religious-looking symbol between her shoulderblades.

The tats might be a surprise and yet, they shoudn't be. She is a pilot. Lleufer changes the angle of his chair to stop it close by. "Captain, I was looking for you actually. Don't mean to intrude or interrupt, but I need your statement to finish my report." Which is overdue, but not because of her. "This a good time, or …?" Lleu reaches his right hand down to pull his tablet out, a folder with a few loose papers with it. Some of them half slip out and he takes a moment to fit them back in and slide it beneath the tablet - looks like application papers for OCS.

"You are not intruding at all," answers the pilot evenly, with a small smile that's part warm, part curious when she spots one of the papers that's pulled briefly free with the tablet. "It is as good a time as any. How are you feeling? The last I saw you, you were.." Her smile turns faintly amused. "Well, I think the morphine was agreeing with you." She pulls on the chain with her dogtags, and settles into a chair facing Lleufer, to begin tying back her still-damp hair.

That gains her a look, "I eh … well, I hope it was entertaining." Lleufer smiles a little wryly with one side of his mouth, "I probably sounded like an idiot." He then clears his throat and powers up his tablet, "Ehem, anyway. I have requested and received a copy of your AAR for the Pallas Evacuation mission, Captain." The Sergeant brings that up onto his screen, then pulls up a window for inputting notes. It's done one handed so it's a little awkward. Lleu looks back up to her, "I'd like to know if you can elaborate on the details of the incident of the stabbing of your ECO on that flight?"

Bennett is far too diplomatic to press the issue further, so she merely meets his gaze with an enigmatic little twist of her lips and allows him to get down to business. Business which effects a rather subtle change in her demeanor. "Certainly, Sergeant." Soft-voiced. "Where shall I begin?" Long fingers continue to pull gently, meticulously through her hair, plaiting damp sections of it into a sleek braid.

Lleufer glances at his notes on the laptop tablet, "I'd like you to begin with the part where two evacuees on board your ship started to show signs of being agitated. What signs that they were disturbed and what do you believe was the cause?"

Bennett is quiet for a few moments as she finishes up with her hair, and deftly wraps the end with a loop of elastic. "You, I believe, had firsthand knowledge of the state these people were in when brought aboard my bus," she begins. "Most of them were malnourished. Some were injured. And the mental toll their ordeal had taken on them was.." Blue eyes flicker away as she searches for the right word. "..profound. There were two Sagittarans on board, a man and a woman, and it was the woman who first showed signs of being in distress."

The Marine watches her bind her now braided hair, fingers dextrous. And her not paying any attention to that task as if she had done it a million times in her sleep. Lleu brings his attention back to what she's saying and thins his mouth, "Yes, I am familiar with … what they were facing down there." He doesn't want to talk about that. No. "Please continue. She was in physical distress, as in ailing from her injuries, as well as mentally strained? Doctor Nasreen mentioned trying to give the woman medical attention but didn't say whether the woman was conscious or not. She did mention the man, presumably her husband, did not wish for his wife to be treated? Would you agree with that assessement for what was going on, Captain?"

Lleufer prompts, "Tell me in /your own/ words what transpired and how, please."

And, again, she does not press. Though the question burns on the tip of her tongue, and the weight of her gaze upon the marine. "Yes," she answers after a pause. "Yes, that sounds about right. The woman was conscious, and from what I could tell, in a great deal of pain. Doctor Nasreen spoke with her, and offered painkillers, but.." She shakes her head slightly. "The woman was mostly unresponsive. I am sorry, I do not remember the exchange in detail." She was busy flying the raptor, after all. "The gentleman with her became quite upset when treatment was offered. That was the point at which I asked my ECO to switch to the secondary countermeasures station at the copilot's seat, and instructed Lieutenant Nasreen to sedate them if necessary."

"So you don't know if the injured woman (here Lleu looks up her name as it is now on record) refused, or tried to refuse, medical treatment herself?" Lleufer asks quietly. "I understand you were flying and such details were not your primary focus, Captain." With his one good hand he inputs a few notes, "It is at that point then that the man," he pauses to also look up the man's proper ID, "Attempted to attack Lt. Nasreen and she attempted to subdue the man, but was unable to do so?" Yes, it is tedious, going over the details to rehash and make certain nothing is missed.

As he continues and is adding his own notations, the list pad scrolls as it auto transcribes every word either of them say for his report.

To her credit, Bennett seems neither bored with, nor bothered by having to recount the situation in painstaking detail. Her gaze wanders to Lleufer's injured arm for a beat while he speaks, and then back to his face, her own remaining largely expressionless. "I do not think that she was in any position to refuse," she answers quietly. "Though in a great deal of distress, she was mostly non-verbal, and certainly not physically combative. The gentleman asked for them to be returned to Sagittaron, and I believe reiterated his desire for her not to receive medical attention. Doctor Nasreen proceeded to attempt sedation, and an altercation followed, roughly as you just surmised."

Lleufer gives a slow nod, "Please describe what happened next, Captain. Precisely how and with what LtJG Watkins was stabbed? 'Pitbull' as his handle is listed, was seated at his consule as you had instructed and did nothing to draw the Sagittaron's attention?"

"The gentleman drew a knife on Doctor Nasreen, and injured her during her attempts to sedate him," Bennett explains calmly, her soft voice touched with a burr of unvoiced emotion. "She was knocked to the floor, and I.. I distinctly recall seeing the Sagittaran man lunge toward Lieutenant Watkins and myself." A breath. "I instructed Lieutenant Watkins to draw his sidearm, and I heard the safety being released, but the hammer did not drop." She seems certain of this. "There was a scuffle beside me, and Lieutenant Watkins was stabbed once in the chest. I assume it must have gone through his heart, as he was gone within moments." Her fingers swipe at something nonexistent on her cheek, once, twice.

Ah, now these are precisely the details he requires for his report. "Do you know where (the Saggittaron NPC's name here) obtained the knife from or did he bring it on board with himself?" An important detail, as Lleu and his Marines were responsible for assisting with the loading of the evacuees and seeing that their 'weapons' were not taken on board with them. A costly oversight in this case, while pressed for time. "Before we conclude here, are there any further comments you would like to add, Captain Bennett?"

"I believe it was brought on board with him, Sergeant," the pilot answers calmly. Brilliant blue eyes drift away from the marine again when he asks whether she has any additional comments. "No," she answers after a time, with a small shake of her head. "But you know where to find me if you require anything further. And it is Captain Saint Clair." The correction is made with a wry smile.

"My apology, Captain Saint Clair." Not Sinclair either. Got it. Lleufer smiles a little, "I'm glad to be back on limited duty but man, my pain meds mess me up a bit." He closes his tablet program and powers it down. Leaning over, Sergeant Ynyr slips the mini computer into the side pocket of his wheel chair. In doing so, he forgets the folder beneath it that falls onto the floor. "Damn it." he breaths, then leans well forward to try and pick it up.

"No apology necessary," Bennett assures with a little laugh that serves, at least, to break some of the tension. "It is an unusual surname, I know." She's just slid out a pack of cigarettes and a slim lighter when Lleufer's folder flutters to the floor. Wordlessly, she slips off her chair and into a crouch to collect them. "I am sorry, I do not mean to pry, but.. you are thinking of applying to become an officer, Sergeant?"

There's various hand jotted notes in there, mostly about the investigation, but also notes for on the Marine's action for the Pallas evacuation. And yes, OCS paperwork with a sticky note attached to it. "Eh … possibly. Actually, it was left for me on my desk at the start of my shift with that note on it. I admit it has been on my mind today. I don't know who put it there." The note has his name on it, then appended 'You should apply'. It is not signed but it was jotted down by hand with a pen. Lleu may look a little embarassed, "Thank you," he says when she helps to collect the scattered papers. He thins his mouth, "I've never thought of myself as officer material, to be honest. Ranch kid from Aerilon."

Bennett smiles slightly when she hears how the OCS paperwork came about. A couple more pages are collected and slid into the folder tidily, her thumb smoothing over the sticky note before she closes it all up. "It sounds like someone who thinks quite highly of you, Sergeant." Rising, she holds the folder out to him. "Is it something you are interested in, though?"

The folder and it's various contents are accepted, "I suppose I am. I hadn't actually considered it before. Aerilons aren't much for joining the military as a rule, you know, us being rather bull headed independant sorts who don't take orders as well as we might." Lleufer smiles lopsidedly and tucks the folder into the side pocket with his good hand, "I'm thinking about it now. Six weeks, isn't it? I mean, if they'd have me." He lifts that same hand to idly scratch at stubble coming in along his jaw that needs to be shaved, "What made you go? Always wanted to be a pilot, or … family tradition, something like that?"

Bennett settles back into her chair, and withdraws a smoke from her pack with the same practiced familiarity with which she braided her hair. Her eyes are on the hand that scratches idly along his jaw, and then away again. "No, not family tradition." She looks amused. "Quite the opposite, in fact. I wanted to be a bush pilot since I was a girl. Joining the military eventually became the more attractive option. Would you like one before you go?" The pack is indicated with a nod as she lights up.

"No, but thanks. I don't smoke." Lleu makes a gesture to her, "Don't mind if you do." He does mind a little but he's not going to be a prude about it. "My father smoked a pipe. When I'm an old man I'll probably take it up myself." He smiles, "Where you from, Saint Clair, if you don't mind my asking? Bush pilot doesn't sound like a citfied occupation to me."

A marine who doesn't smoke? Colour Bennett pleasantly surprised. And even if he says he doesn't mind, she stubs hers out delicately, anyway. Manners, of which she has a modicum. "I don't advise it," she murmurs, with that little sideways smile of hers. "It is a vile habit." As to where she's from, "Virgon." Which.. does not jive at all with that slight, warm drawl she has. "I grew up in the everglades, so without bush pilots, we would not have been able to bring in equipment, supplies or mail from the capitol. And what did bring you to the CMC, Sergeant? I confess I know very little of Aerilon, outside of Promethea."

He's inclined to insist she go ahead and enjoy her cigarette - and starts to object to her snuffing it out. It's plain on his face. Lleu checks himself. Not his place to tell the Captain what she should do so he leaves it. "Aerilon's mostly farming. Good wide plains, some mountains, enough rainfall and surprisingly good soil for the most part. My folk are from the foot of the mountains, raise horses. Oddly enough, family tradition to enlist sons and daughters who won't inherit the land. I'm not eldest, and also, though I love my home I had itchy feet to move around. So even if I was eldest, I'd prefer to leave it to one of my siblings." He shifts his position in his chair, not looking like he's in a hurry to get back to his desk. "Everglades sounds interesting. Good hunting?"

"I think I can understand itchy feet," Bennett answers softly. "My parents are.. were Dionysian." Which makes sense, given the ink and the earring in her left ear. "They fancied marrying me off to someone I could give many fat little babies to, but.. I too had my heart set on seeing the worlds." She laughs again, and turns the unlit cigarette absently between her fingers while she listens to Lleufer speak. "It sounds.. idyllic." The mountains. The horses. "Very good hunting. My father taught us to hunt alligators and boars. It is not for the fainthearted."

"Boars!" That lights up his eyes, "Man, boar is good eating. Wish I could find something on Piraeus to compare. Maybe we will." Obviously, he fancies himself a hunting sort. "I liked it. Riding in the mountains or going a foot. So going down to Piraeus is almost like going home, except that it's prettier maybe. I mean, the mountains are a lot more impressive on Piraeus and it's greener." The Marine gives a faint shake of his head, "Don't know much about Virgon nor Dionysians. Got a little traveling in but not a lot, mostly posted to ships. Until I got out here, been a long stretch without getting dirt under my boots."

Bennett mms consideringly. "I have not been hunting in.. more years than I care to remember. But once you are recuperated, perhaps you might care to accompany me dirtside, some time." She leaves it purposely vague, and seems quite meticulous about picking her words so it does not come off as an order. "Dionysus is the god of wine," she explains, indicating her earring with a fingertip to stop it from turning when she does. It is, unmistakeably, an inverted cluster of grapes on a vine.

"Ah yes, I know Dionysus. But you know how there's a milllion little places named for the Gods. I'm not much a religious fella." Which might not synch as much as one would think with an Aerilon, or anyone else not very cityfied. "But I certainly appriciate a good drink, or four." The Jarhead flashes a smile at that. He gives a nod to the earring, "Possible hunting companion and a fellow drinker, Captain? We might get along awfully well." Lleu chuckles, "Actually I've hunted a lot on Piraeus. It was hunting of a sort that got me mauled up, though it was for Doctor Tamsin's biology research rather than for shooting game to eat. There's a very flavourful little deer-like critter down there I call a dickie. Tiny, fast, shy and hard to find in the woods but very, very good eating over a camp fire. Not to mention things that pass for fish down there." A self satisfied smirk before his baritone concludes, "Soon as I'm cleared to go back down, you've got a deal, Captain."

Bennett looks quite pleased with the marine's acceptance of her offer, and a smile blooms suddenly on her lips. It turns speculative when he mentions Dr. Tamsin and her biology research, but the question isn't voiced. "I have been spoiled by the city more than I care to admit, Sergeant," she confides, tucking the previously-lit smoke back into her pack, and collecting both it and her stack of folders. "So please don't expect too much." She winks at him in passing as she rises, and heads toward her locker. "Now fishing is something I have never been good at, though would not be adverse to learning."

Lleufer is more relaxed now, watching her. His gaze tracks her as she heads over to her locker, "Fishing is easy. Lots of ways to do it. Some are more active or passive than others. The reward is the fight the fish gives, or the shot if you use a bow as the water bends the light, and the taste afterwards when you fry it up in a skillet with a touch of butter, herbs and lemon. Or things simular for flavouring." As he's reasonably tan, it's clear he's spent a decent amount of time down there. "Swim in a brisk mountain pool, lay out in the sun until you doze. Recharges me for another stint up here."

Bennett pauses, though with her back turned, it's impossible to tell that Lleufer's description of the 'reward' has her practically salivating. The lock is sprung after a moment, and the door swung open so she can shove her belongings inside. "It sounds exquisite," she offers very quietly. "Do you cook? I am atrocious."

The Marine shrugs, "I cook … passingly well but not great. I can cook fish or steaks, a few basic things out of a box, or vegetables. Not like … anything fancy. I know a few surprising ways to make MRE's a lot more tolerable." Lleu chuckles. He looses some of his good humor when he tried to gesture with his left hand, "Course, going to have to learn to compensate on a lot of things if I don't get the use of my hand back in full. But I'll manage." Man's noticed she's gone to do other things and well, he's been here a while. "I should get out of your hair, Captain. Go work on finishing my report."

It's hard to say whether she's bothered by his continued presence, or appreciative of the company. Chance favours the latter, judging by how her smile falls a notch when he indicates that he should get going. "There is a fantastic physical therapist on board, I think from the Rubaul or one of the other ships. I am sure they will do all they can for your hand." She settles on the edge of her bunk to finish lacing up her combat boots, and pins him with a crooked little smile. "It was good to speak with you, Sergeant." Perhaps there is more, but she is as elusive as always with her thoughts.

Lleufer smiles faintly, "My pleasure, Captain." Nope, not going to call her Butch, though Bennett's not hard on the tongue. He looks tired though, still getting his strength back. Hard to sit his ass all day in the stupid chair. So he double checks all his things are collected, powers up the chair and turns it around, "I'm work'n on using a cane so I can ditch this baby. I won't keep you waiting any longer than I can help it, on that trip to Piraeus. I won't forget." 'Indoors' or not, he gives her a causual, slightly sloppy salute in good humor, "I'll keep that in mind, sir." He resists the urge to give her a wink and heads on out.

As far as pilots' callsigns go, the more awkward and inappropriate, the better, generally speaking. Bennett's is clearly no exception. "I am looking forward to it," she tells him, returning the sloppy salute in kind, with a grin. She watches him head for the hatch, lips pursed slightly in consideration of something or other. Then, dragging her gaze away, resumes lacing her boots and preparing for duty.

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