AWD #475: Carbella's and FAV's
AWD #475: Carbella's and FAV's
Summary: Lt Petropoulos , Chief Ferrell, Crewman Callaghan & Dr. Nadir check the status of the project at the tomb and discuss a variety of topics related to same.
Date: Sunday 09/Oct/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs:
Alex Marcus Niamh Samtara 
The valley floor is only about a quarter mile wide with a river running through it. There is a thick forest of pine coating most of the ground while is up at about 7500 above sea level. On each side of them the mountains rise up to nearly fourteen thousand feet and the valley becomes more narrow. With scattered clouds overhead and chilly weather, and on a beautiful day the wind would sigh through the tall stands of pines.
Wednesday 26/Apr/2006

Midafternoon on Piraeus finds the team that is working on the terrain outside of the Tomb making slow, but steady, progress on the airlock that is intended to be built around the opening of the tomb itself. Having set aside the full hazmat suit, somewhat reluctantly, Sam has a filtration mask worn over nose and mouth, along with a pair of safety glasses to shield her eyes, just in case. The biohazard structure has been erected over the entrance to the tomb itself, shielding the outside environment from the environment just within the frame of what used to be the doors, a temporary measure to be sure, but it's what Sam was adamant about setting up, first and foremost. At the moment, Dr. Nadir is outside the hazmat layer, standing in the afternoon sun, seated on an empty crate and doing precise line sketches of the tomb and surrounding terrain.

Needing to get away from Dog Platoon for a bit means that Marcus is checking on the security detail that's keeping watch over the work that the doctor and others are doing. A single Carballa tank serves as the main protection for the work, though a pair of FAVs are parked off to the side, armed with .50 cal mounts. Finishing an inspection of the troops and sharing a few words, the quiet LT leans against the main battle tank, and gets out a juice pouch to puncture with a straw and drink from as he watches the work in the biohazard area.

Alex has been here all morning and quickly shed her hazmat suit for the less intrusive gear. She's in her work coveralls, blazing orange in the sun. Thanks to the season and a water bottle she's currently guzzling water from, she's kept her temperature down. She's also by one of the empty crates, taking a quick break for herself like many others. She watches Sam sketching, but doesn't say anything.

Giving a small, somewhat irritated, twitch as she looks up from the page she's sketching the outline on, Sam glances toward the chief. "Straight lines, I'm competent at straight lines. This?" she waves a hand at the structure of the tomb, "This is nothing but curves. Not a straight line in sight." She almost, and it's a near thing, throws the pen that she's working with and reaches for the bottle of water at her side. "Why do they have to hover? It's like being constantly in front of a review board of some sort. It's unnerving." This said before she sets the paper and pen aside, slowly, with forced meticulous calm, resting her hands on her knees after she does this. "How soon do you think we can get this structure built and we can evac the site?"

Feeling the flesh on his skin rise, Marcus glances out towards the tree line. He knows he can't see them, but it still feels so very weird to have the eyes of the universe upon him. But, he moves towards the FAV he took out to the site, where he takes out a small case. Opening it up, he takes out his violin and sits on the hood of the vehicle. "I hope you'll forgive me if I don't do so well.. I never had an audience this large." he murmurs, mainly to himself, before he tunes the sprogs for a moment and then letting out a breath, he closes his eyes and tries to relax to pull the bow across the strings to try to soothe the eyes upon them all… or irritate them enough to leave. Who knows?

Alex steps away from her crate to approach Sam and grins easily. "You know…all you have to do is look at it differently…" The chief drags her foot across the ground to clear some of the loose bits of black stuff away and reveal some dirt. Then she draws five lines, one after the other with her foot. They all intersect and follow a neat pattern of connecting two different axes. As she adds more, they start to creat a curve out of their edges. She lets the illustration speak for itself, save for, "See. Straight lines work just fine….Ah, them? They're probably bored to death. This is probably the most interesting thing that matters to them….It's hard to say, since there are a number of places where it could go wrong, but I'd say," no longer than DK says it will. As the violin music wafts in, Alex rolls her eyes and mutters what's supposed to be mostly to herself, "Figures he plays violin…Plays well though."

Sam glances up as she hears, of all things, the surprising sound of violin playing. She glances towards the Chief as she clears a space in the dirt and illustrates her point, literally, in the dirt. "Hhmm, yes," she says after a quiet moment of consideration, rising from the crate to slowly pace around the illustration, studying it from several angles before she returns to where she's standing. Her head lifts, again, and she casts the same surprised look toward the Marine LT. "Music is math made beautiful. But. . it's surprising, all the same. Such talent," she murmurs before she seats herself again and retrieves the pen, paper, and works with more decisive lines on the page. "There's a rather surprising number of musicians among the crew," sharing this tidbit of data with the chief.

The song he plays is soft and feathered, meant to draw the listener into a smile instead of a dirge. A celebration of life of sorts, as Marcus closes his eyes, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he plays, apparently a habit he didn't quite get rid of due to his self-training on the insturment as he comes to a rise in the song, standing up for a moment to play into the bridge and then down the other side before he comes to a conclusion and lowers the violin. "Thank you." he says to the eyes on him, before he moves to put the violin away and closes the case.

Rising from her seat on the crate, Sam shares a small almost curve of a smile with the chief as she retrieves a bottle of water from one of the large coolers full of water and other sports drinks and carries it to the LT. "You're a talented musician, Lieutenant," she offers with the extended water bottle.

"Thank you, Doctor." Marcus offers, accepting the water bottle. "If we're going to be watched, and Specialist Mercier isn't here.. I had thought." he shrugs his shoulders absently as he pats the instrument case. "I just hope that they appeciated." Cracking open the bottle to take a draw from it, the LT considers for a moment. "How goes your work?"

"You had thought that perhaps it might be good if we could show the watching eyes that we're more than just a militant occupying force?" Sam wonders as she glances toward the entrance to the tomb, going quiet for a moment. "It continues, at pace," is all she allows before sharing a small trace of a smile. "I hope they appreciated it as well."

"We're guests here. I learned where I was from, you make sure that you negotiate and barter for a safe place in a storm. Considering the storm that we're in at the moment, I thought I'd make sure they knew we were paying our way instead of just.." Marcus responds as he nods his head, looking thoughtful for a moment. "..doing what we want here. I want them to know that we're going to listen to the rules that Captain al Yahoma put before us."

"To be fair, the rules that have been relayed, via Crewman Shackleton, are very clear. Very straight forward," Sam replies with a measured nod to the LT. "I've worked on recovery sites of this kind before, back during my internship. Not one as old as this, but the premise is the same. Respect. Care. Documentation."

"Right. And we'll be here to protect you in the meantime, Doctor." Marcus responds as he gives her a smile finally before he finishes off the water bottle and slips into a bag in the FAV to return to base. "If you need any assistance, let us know. I'm going to be in and out more often as I try to get to speed on leading a platoon."

"Funny, I thought you were here to protect the site…but I guess that makes sense too," Alex shrugs, finally piping up in the conversation she's not really all that a part of, but is party to. Her phrasing, though easily interpreted as sarcastic, come across with a genuinely surpirse tone. "What kind of wildlife are down here?"

Sam's eyebrows wing upward, slowly, before a bit of a smile forms on her face. "I'm not all that worried about my personal safety, Lieutenant. I don't plan to do anything to fly in the face of the guidelines that we've been given, and I'm not going to start smashing things, randomly, to see what happens." She glances toward the Chief and nods, "That's a good question. Is there a great deal of wildlife that we should be aware of? I've seen wounds from wolves, bears, snakes, the usual gastrointestinal excitement from people eating things they shouldn't."

"Bears, wolves, rodents of unsual size, at night, it's mainly the wolves to watch out for." Marcus explains as he nods. "They aren't used to humanity around here." As for Alex's remark, he shrugs. "Your protection is tied into the protection of the site, as far as I'm concerned." he says simply.

"Likewise. Eh…I think maybe I could use a little help with a bear…or a pack of wolves, if they got bold," Alex shrugs as if casually sizing up her capabilities. "Depends on the equipment on hand."

Sam aims a sidelong look at the LT, "Rodents of unusual size?" she wonders, a fine thread of amusement coloring her voice, that faint smile forming on her face. "I appreciate the protection, however, all the same. I don't deem it wise to have personnel out here after dark, all the same. There's no reason for it." She aims the subtle look of amusement at the chief, "Bold wolves."

"I'm sure between your biting wit, and the Doctor's rules, the wolves are terrified, Chief." Marcus responds simply, a shrug of his shoulders and nods. "The Carbella is out here for permament posting until the work is complete. But the FAVs are here to drive you back to the base when you're ready."

"My rules are pretty straight forward," Sam agrees in a mild tone of voice, looking pleased that her rules are even remotely a topic of conversation. "I don't suppose we can get permission to take that thing on a test drive, could we?" she wonders.

Alex chuckles wryly at Marcus' comment. "Yes. Terrified," she lifts a hand to cover her mouth as she yawns. "Sorry." When Sam talks about a test drive, she arches a brow, her lips quirking into a faint grin. "What the Carbella doctor?"

"The Carbella's off limits. I know the others aren't big on us ruining things, and driving around a tank for fun may not go over well. The FAVs seem to be fine, though." Marcus says as he settles against the attack buggy again. "Should have gone Marines if you want to play in the armor, Doctor."

Sam turns slightly and eyes the tank again, "Ah, that's what it's called, Chief?" she wonders before she glances toward the Lieutenant and allows a slow, faintly wry, smile to form on her face. "I don't deal well with being shot at, Lieutenant. It tends to make my nerves a bit strained and my manners tend to degrade when my manners are strained."

"They're just called tanks and attack buggies. It's easier to remember than all of the lingo," the Chief offers by way of beginner's lingo. "Do you become more efficient with less manners?" she asks, genuinely curious.

"Well, if you don't want to get shot at, don't go in tanks, Doctor." Marcus says with a smirk. "I need to go take a tour of the perimeter to make sure it's secure. We're bringing in some construction lights to illuminate the area. Let me know when you're ready to Sheridan." he says, before he turns to head off to load into one of the FAVs to go driving around the area.

Niamh has been off doing, well, whatever it is that Niamh does, and when she finally appears, it's quite clear she's been busy. Her bright orange coveralls are even more glaring in the light of day all smudged with grease and generally looking worse for wear. Her ponytail is haphazard at best and currently looking a bit worse than that what with her hastily added air filtration mask and the goggles. Gloved hand clutch at her notebook as she appears around the side of the tank, free hand dragging idly along the body of the beast as the Crewman makes her way to stand slight behind and to the side of the Deck Chief.

"Tanks and attack buggies, I like the last one," Sam admits, her hands briefly tucking into the front pockets of her khakis. "I don't suppose we could just check one out and go for a drive around, I'd like to get a better look at all the terrain around the tomb itself. Building something like this must have required a tremendous undertaking, both in the terms of real manpower but materials as well. It wonder if it's poured concrete or if it's all solid rock masonry. What did they do with the rock that they excavated from the mountain itself in the making. What about air shafts, redundancies for the main air shafts. What about auxiliary access points or escape hatches, things of that nature. What about their water supply, is there a aquifer that they'd tapped into? or a natural gas pipeline or were there solar panels or some other manner of energy farm that this facility was linked to, back when it was fully operational?" She moves her shoulders in a slow shrug before smiling again. "It's a crazy fox that has only one exit to it's bolt hole, is the saying, I believe. And no, I don't imagine that I do. I do get a bit terse, however."

"That's a shame. I'm sure there must be ways to trick our minds into running more efficiently," the Chief yawns again, covering her mouth. "I'm not sure what's available day to day on Pireaus. Just the Orion. Most of what you just said is probably already true. I mean how else would they have done it? So wouldn't that just be like going around and finding answers you already know?" Alex wonders aloud. "Unless…they figured out another way to do it." She's in pure hypothetical thought-land. It's clear by the way she turns the ideas over that she likes to find the angles to things. Curious creature. "Oh hey Niamh. Here, have a water." Alex breaks open the seal on water and offers it to her.

"Maybe there wasn't a need for escape hatches." Niamh pipes up as she joins the pair, not really standing still though as she shifts idly from one foot to the other. "And well.. I don't know much about this kind of thing, but sometimes mountains have natural ventilation systems. You know… like caves? So maybe they just used what was readily available and built … um… like… around what the mountain already provided?" She blushes a little, since her ideas are a little crazy, and hastily accepts the water offered by the Chief, using it to hide behind as she takes a couple of long drinks.

"Tricking the mind into working more efficiently is a curious but often debated line of logic," Sam replies with a thoughtful look aimed at the Chief. "And it's a theory until it's proven, Chief. I like to prove things, or disprove them, equally. It's as much about knowing for certain as it is marking of a checklist," she muses, rather agreeably, before she tips a nod at Niamh. "Precisely. IF they took advantage of a natural formation of rock, then we should be able to locate those fissures and see if they, too, need to be sealed in some manner. At the very least, if people are going to be moving in and out of the tomb, we need to be able to guarantee the quality of air within the tomb proper."

"My guess is if the interior is well preserved, we don't want to go touching any rock formations that might shift or break things. Instead I would suggest putting together some maintenance checks that could be performed and easily trained. Map the fissures. That's something that could be done with laser imaging technology, but it's usually done in things like underwater cave systems…I know a lot of useless crap," Alex explains with no self-deprecation. She really just considers it all loose information in her head. "There already /was/ a seal right? Which means that by and large we probably don't have any major fissures or anything to deal with. My guess, is it has a titanium shell to outlast this long, to withstand blasts and nuclear war…it would need to be very thick. There won't /be/ any fissures if it was built right and they would need the metal to protect against radiation."

Niamh lifts one shoulder in a shrug and looks down, studying the ground. "I don't know that folks should be moving in and out just because… I mean, I guess I just don't like the idea of … well.. it's like poking around someone's grave." Her shoulders tremble slightly, like she's shivering, green eyes skating around, as though looking for someone, before tracking back to the ground. She mumbles something under her breath in her native language and shakes her head slightly before falling silent.

Sam angles a nod at the chief, "There is no such thing as useless crap or wasted knowledge. What there is, ultimately, is to much data poured into any one logistic situation to confuse the issue. To much data poured into any one equation creates to many variables to parse, logically, within the time constraints of any situation." She paces slowly out a few feet, studying the entrance to the tomb, then slowly back, hands still sunk into her front pockets. "That is exactly so, it is a grave site, which is why we're being so very careful with what we're doing here." Another glance is flicked toward the tomb, "I have no genuine wish to enter the tomb but we will, ultimately, need to draw tissue samples from the remains."

"It was meant to be a relative expression. Not a fact. Relative to what I need to know on a daily basis. Prioritized," Alex offers in quick succession, a moment of clarification. "That sounds dangerously close to 'disturbing peoples' remains' Doctor."

Niamh balks at that. "Why?" She asks, actually looking up at the Doctor. "We already know how they died…" The Crewman bites her lip and takes a step back, looking uncomfortable and a little nervous for being so outspoken to someone who clearly outranks her in just about every way. Her fingers tighten on her notepad, flicking the corners back and forth. She glances to the Chief, then away again, "'Sides.. there's folks that have been down here a lot longer than us, surely if there were weird viruses or sickness, they'd already be showing signs?"

"Yes, yes it is. And it won't be done lightly, and it won't be done rudely," Sam replies, glancing from Alex to Niamh then back again, dividing her attention and her answer between both. "Because we have to know more about the people that were here. Part of that starts, literally, with the people themselves. The remains of. I'm not talking removing a body. I'm talking a few, careful, skin cell samples being collected. Hair. Fibers. Things of that nature. We don't need the sheer tonnage of testable samples that would've been required even a decade ago."

"Yes, well I need to get back to work," Alex says as she holds the sweating bottle up to her forehead to cool off. "I wouldn't want a few cells to be the reason I die at the hands of unseen eyes. Just make sure I'm nowhere near when that happens. If it happens." She nods to the CMO and her fellow deckhand before using a marker to put her initials on the cap and stowing the water in a nearby cooler before lifting a hand in parting to the group and moving off, pulling her protection back over her eyes and mouth as she does so.

Niamh still looks /very/ uncomfortable and looks around again. She knows they're watching, listening, even if they're not visible at the moment. She takes a deep breath and looks between the Chief and the Doctor, "Well, I'm just stating for the record that /I/ am not okay with that. If we need to know more about them, we could just ask them." There's a decidedly stubborn look on the usually meek Crewman's face, her green eyes flashing with a moment of determined backbone before she literally flinches and tenses, waiting for some imagined physical reprimand.

Sharing a nod with the Chief and then another with Niamh, Sam is quiet for a moment as the chief moves to return to work. "While I acknowledge and recognize your discomfort on this matter, this is not a topic for debate. All manner of respect will be afforded the dead and no actual 'tampering' or 'handling' of the bodies will be done. Respect is first and foremost. Which means, logistically speaking, I will be handling that aspect when the go-ahead has been negotiated. You are welcome to be absent from the site at that time, as are anyone else who feel the same way. This is not a reprimand, to be clear," she adds, head tipping in a nod to Niamh. "Merely recognition of your preferences and respect of same."

Niamh nods, "Fair enough." Still, she looks around, not as relaxed as she was when she arrived. As the Chief disappears off for work, the Crewman shifts, not really good in the presence of Officers. Her gloved fingers flick the pages of her notebook back and forth, and she looks a bit lost for a few moments, not knowing what to say. "I uh… better go see if the Chief needs any help…" Niamh says eventually, glancing in Alex's direction, then back to the Doctor.

"Of course. Carry on, Crewman," Sam replies as she turns to back track to the crate she'd been sitting on and returns to the careful sketches of the hazmat structure and it's accompanying equipment over the face of the tomb itself. The sketch is soon followed with details measurements of the structure and the accompanying filters used to keep the environment within specific measurements for pulmonary tolerances.

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