AWD #007: Copies
Summary: A survivor of Picon reveals rumors about modern-day Cylons.
Date: 12/01/2013
Related Logs: Recon of Helios Alpha
Petra Melpomene Wake Dropkickst 
Combat Information Center - Deck 2 - Battlestar Orion
The Combat Information Center is the tactical heart of the Orion. This CIC is designed in a circular formation, the Admiral apparently a fan of the classical set-up. Dead center are a set of large monitors suspended from the ceiling with DRADIS readings as well as other vital shipboard information. Under this is a small map table outlining current plots and positions. The table has a built-in phone as well as smaller displays as to critical damage reports. Both port and starboard other watch stations are set at all times, in two rows of tiers like stadium seating, one above the other. Each station has a purpose — Helm, Weapons, Communications, Electronic Warfare, Damage Control, and further tactical monitoring. More displays and banks of computer monitors line the walls. This area is heavily guarded by Marines at all hours of the day and night.
12 January 2005

Well, CIC is slowly calming back down. I say calming, because Zachary and Sebastian have just left after giving their debriefing report to Petra in the middle of CIC, and most of the staff officers are busy giving each other wide eyes and a couple are whispering. Picon still under siege? Three basestars? The raptor brought back some command staff that survived? Petra talking about a ninja type raid on the fuel depot at Persephone? Tauron turne to glass and Minos left to bake in the radiation to kill everyone? The picture isn't pretty, and Petra himself takes a moment to rub his face and regain his composure.

That's the beauty of shift changes; some epic action goes down, and before you know it, all the tired, drawn-out faces are replaced by fresh ones. Long about the time that the enlisted in the CIC are making their evening shift change, Petra's meetings are wrapping up. Usually chipper enough to exchange high-fives with the comms operator coming off-duty whether they like it or not, Melpomene offers the same gesture tonight. They seem less enthused than usual, and Mel enters CIC to find a new bunch of stone-faced folks settling in, passing around bits of what they overheard from their stations.

Petra takes a deep breath and looks around as positions trade off for shift change, smiling a little as Lt. Abbenshire shows up to take over the Watch. Petra relinquishes the ship, but makes some sort of comment about hanging around for the time being. He gravitates over to the Tactical console and starts replaying the data drive Sebastian dropped off, reviewing the gun cameras, the DRADOME readings and so on. For several hours, the evening is pretty silent…until Melpomene gets a chirp from Medical that Staff Sergeant Hall is conscious and that the LtCol had asked them to notify CIC the moment that was so.

The board lights up and Melpomene takes the short but sweet message from downstairs in the sickbay. While she listens, she nods her head, and scribbles down just a word or two on a small pad of paper there at her station. "Copy," she says weirdly matter-of-factly, and the lifts the mic boom up away from her mouth. "Lieutenant…and colonel, sirs. A message has just come in from sickbay. The patient, staff sergeant Hall, is conscious."

Petra perks up at the news and looks over at the comms station, "She is. Well then." He looks over at Abbenshire and smiles, "Lieutenant, I'm stealing your comms operator." He pockets the data drive and looks back up to Melpomene, "Petty Officer…" he has to look at her name patch for a moment, "Kennard. Have your Junior relieve you and grab an audio recorder, and come with me. I want to make sure this conversation is caught so we can replay it for the Commander and Admiral."

"Yes sir, right away." Mel turns to find the other PO working at the adjacent station, and gives a nod to make sure he knows to assume her duties as well. From a storage cabinet located between the terminals, Mel is able to find a recorder; it's loaded in there with some backup hardware for repairs, notepads, and everyday things to do the job. She comes around the circular tier to Petra, brandishing the recorder. "Looks brand new. Can't rightly say that it's been used before."

Petra mms softly and nods, giving it and her a once over, "Not a state most things on this ship are going to stay in. Lets not keep her waiting then." With that said, he gives Abbenshire a nod and heads off at a good clip.

Sickbay - Deck 3 - Battlestar Orion
Serving as the ship's primary care facility, the Medical Center is a rather large, single room structure that has the same load-bearing structures to the walls that the halls do, as well as the same heavy hatch. There is a desk at the entrance staffed by a nurse as well as a small locker for single dose drugs like aspirin. Beds are lined up along each wall with EKG's and hangers for IVs in case of triage. Large cabinets at the rear provide ready access to lifesaving medicines and gear, as well as a ready supply of defibrillators. Not far from the primary entrance is the Chief Medical Officer's office and on the other side is a small hatch to the recovery ward. Towards the rear is a sectioned-off examination area.
12 January 2005

Its late into the night when the Marine Staff Sergeant wakes up and Petra is notified. Sickbay is largely quiet and most of the wounded from Warday have been processed out. Currently in residence is a younger Marine, around 20, whose head is wrapped in bandages and he's apparently not even woken up since the extraction. The Marine Captain, missing his right arm and a good portion of his face, is still in surgery and an unknown. The young girl, never a name to be given, died two minutes onto the operating table. She couldn't have been more than sixteen.

Her dogtags read C. Hall. Her uniform was from the Marines. So far she has not said much, but then people from Medical aren't exactly pressing questions on her. She just stares at the ceiling absently, her only movements the rise and fall of her chest.

Petra makes his way into Sickbay with Melpomene close behind, pausing to close the hatch behind them both once they've stepped in. He takes a moment to look around, then grab the attention of the corpsman on night duty, who points him towards Hall's bed. Petra simply nods, then glances at Melpomene to make sure she's still with him, before making his way over. Considering she looks awake, he clears his throat once he gets to the foot of her bed, stepping up closer beside before he mentions in a low voice, "Staff Sergeant. Im Lieutenant Colonel Petra, Orion's Tactical Officer. This is Petty Officer Kennard from comms. Our Raptor crew said they pulled you and your men out of a pretty ugly, one-sided fight. Can you talk to me about it?"

Melpomene's like the super-cute puppy who looks way out of place in the sickbay. Though cleared of most of the wounded, those that remain make her a little squirmy, and the smell of disinfectants and bandages always makes her think of even more wounded. Petra moves to the foot of the bed, and she moves to the side, to get in between them. When the recorder is on, and recording, she gives a nod so he knows when it's okay to go ahead and make official introductions.

The Marine turns her head to look over at Petra as he approaches with the PO behind him. Her eyelids are heavy and blinking seems to take a year and a day. Taking a bullet to the gut like she did, this woman is probably swimming in pain killers. Those eyes drift between them both. "Okay," she whispers. Everything about this woman is probably going to be done or spoken at half speed. "No fights one-sided, sir," the woman breathes. "Not 'til someone quits." She swallows, taking a long breath. "We," siiigh. "We were moving up towards Hattersonville. Going to hit a refueling station. Think they ambushed us. Nasty stuff, sir." She looks towards the recorder and the PO. "Where am I?" Half speed, the whole time. This lady will be lucky to remember she was even awake.

Petra nods slowly, "Take your time, Sergeant. You're safe and under excellent medical care. Our doctors are working on the rest of your men right now." He doesn't say a word about anyone that's already been lost, "You're on the Battlestar Orion. Our raptor crew rescued you." He waits for a moment, glancing at Melpomene and wincing a little, before asking the marine, "Did you hear anything over the radio when it started? Anything about what they might have been after?"

Melpomene just stands there beside the bed, holding the recorder out. She does her best to move the mic closer to one or the other as they speak to get the best sound quality, but without creating a lot of fuzzy stuff on the recording by moving it around too much. She's not about to start asking questions.

"Cool," she breathes, a little surprised. "Neat ship, sir. Everyone thinks the fleet is gone. Surprised you have something like this. We could use the help." Yep, she's taking her time. "Psssssshhhhhh," the woman breathes. "JTAC, sir. I talked to my husband over the radio. The radio provides to all who listen." Yeah, she's a little high. Or a lot high. But she gives a small smile. At least she knows she is high. "Nothing when the attack started, sir. Perkinston went up. Whole godsdamned city, sir. I was four hundred miles away. Flash so bright it woke me up out of sleep. Lit up the sky like dawn for almost a minute. Crazy." She looks far off for a moment. "Very pretty."

Petra murmurs, "I'm sure they do think that. As long as we're here, there's something of Fleet left and they aren't taking us out that quickly." He chews on the corner of his mouth for a moment, "There's a Major with you. The Doctors are working on him right now. Do you know who he is?" He pauses there for a second, flashing a terse sort of smile at Melpomene before shaking his head, "You said you were going to hit the refuelling station. The Cylons had taken it and were holding it?" That might mean the refuelling station isnt just abandoned and on autopilot.

The idea that 'here' is someplace not Picon seems to confuse the woman and she just slowly blinks at him. "Okay." Whatever, dude. "Captain." She sighs. "Captain Eugene Gramm. Company Commander." She wets her lips. "We're Able. Fourth Battalion, Thirty-Ninth Marines." She narrowly focuses on a cup of water by her bed and reaches for it. She gets a drink before continuing. The agonizing wait for intel. "They had it held, yep. We don't let 'em hold things for long. Kapowww. They want it?" If it were possible to shrug with a person's eyes, she would have done just that. "They're gonna have to pay for it." Slow, methodical plodding. Every word takes thought, but at least she's putting thought into it.

This is all news to the petty officer. She wasn't on-duty when any of this went down, and all she heard at the start of her shift were rumors about the Raptor recon mission. In response to Petra's head-shaking, Melpomene gives a mortified little frown, and a shrug of her shoulders.

Late coming, but then he has been going over the images sent in with the incoming raptors. Still-when there is intelligence to be gathered, the Lieutenant eerily shows up. Clad in his usual dress blues, the lone office slinks on through, while hands go to settling his duty jacket. There's a glance to the LCOL, and a nod once in. But he doesn't speak up to interrupt the marine that's talking. Wake's better at listening than anything else.

Petra glances over when a new body begins closing in. He nods to the Lt, but doesn't offer comment…the conversation's being recorded and he can catch Intel up on what's already been said later. For now, he has a SSgt floating on a demerol cloud that he needs to keep focused, "Was there anything else that your Captain mentioned they had taken? Any other targets your Unit was going after at the moment?"

"Lots, sir." Heavy eyelids blink again and the cup is sipped from again. "Whole shitload of pissed off Picans, sir." The cup is replaced on the table. That was a whole lot of effort and her arm falls limp to her side as she looks at him. Eyes slowly drift to Wake and then back. "We were gonna hit that site, then redeploy up.. up.." She blinks again. "Up north. Forgot where. Someplace. Something about one of the, uhm." She blinks again, pressing her lids down to try and focus. "We run Preds and stuff out of these places. Use roads as runways. Frakkin toasters are havin trouble finding them. Ha. Ha. Ha." She even smiles a little.

"So the comms are still up and running? I mean, at least, a little bit? Even just like, local comms?" Melpomene asks out loud, not exactly at the marine, and not exactly at the two officers, but 'in general.' It might be out of personal interest or expertise that she asks, and it might not even be important, but she asks anyway.

Wake is quiet for a moment, as he looks back towards the Marine-and then over to Melpomene. Still he doesn't jump in just yet, instead there's a look to Petra, as one brow crops up-before he is looking right over towards the Staff Sergeant. There's a cough now as he steps forward. " Correct me if I am wrong, Staff Sergeant, but isn't there an Airbase to the North-Flight school if I remember?" More or less a prompt for the poor swimming marine, the more information he can get-the better he can aid in the brief.

Petra leans a little closer to the recorded and murmurs, "Warn CAG about Naval Station at Persephone, and pilots possibly still alive on Picon." With that added for the recorder's benefit, he falls quiet for a moment, thinking and listening to Melpomene's question, nods slightly at Wake and whispers, "If the Cylons were having trouble finding the Predators, we need to know what it was they were next to. Might be something we can recreate or take advantage of."

"Yeah," she breathes, looking to Melpomene. "They lifted jamming.." Thinking. Thinking. "Tuesday. Civilian sites are all wiped. No repeaters. Tac radios are good. Stuff like my pack? Big range. Keeps us running. No idea why then aren't, you know, jamming." Slow, steady, a word coming every second or so. A few seconds between each sentence. There's a glance to the water and she motions for it. "Water. Please." Wakes reply gets a shrug. "Can't remember, sir. I think so. We only go to bases for.. for raids. Get bombs. Supplies." Another swallow and she settles on Petra. "Next to?" She's trying to think about what he means? "Saw one this morning. It was parked in a barn. Big ol rack of bombs on it. Real pretty."

"Could be radiation read out of some kind. It Fraks with DRADIS, wouldn't surprise me if some of it was still frakking with them." But then the Intel officer shrugs before he is nodding back towards the Marine. "Is Civilian resistance organized?" A raise of his brow to Petra, if this has already been covered-he will apologize. But then he's assuming some Civilians are fighting back-he could be entirely wrong.

To help out the marine - and since she's closest - Melpomene takes hold of the stainless cup there on the table, and holds it out for woman. She seems more than willing to help support it all the way to her lips and back, to spare her the effort of having to hold it without spilling. The recorder is placed gingerly on the bed beside the woman's legs so as not to muffle the recording quality too much.

Petra shakes his head slightly at Wake, as if to indicate he hadn't asked about that yet. He watches Melpomene take care of her ask for water, drawing in a deep breath and letting it go, murmuring to the Lieutenant, "Her Captain is here as well, in surgery. He might have more information on the unit-wide tactical situation when he gets out."

The Marine nods slowly. "Every Pican with a rifle, sir," she replies to Wake. "Not so many left, but we're organized. No more Navy. No more civilians. I got out last year, too. We send kids who don't wanna fight and elderly to.. places. Depends on…" A swallow. "The area? 'Area' works. Thanks, PO." She takes a long drink of the water and wets her lips again, which are badly chapped. She struggling to keep her focus. This is taking a lot out of her and its not hard to see. "Had problems with traitors. We usually just shoot 'em, though. Talking weird shit about faith and a God. Toaster sympathizers. Lotsa rumors about them."

Wake nods back towards Petra " If FLEETCOM is up and running, I'd suspect they're underground or at least moving.." he adds before he's looking back towards the Marine-something she said has the fellow perked. "Mind telling us some of the rumors, Staff Sergeant? Least what you can recall and put out." There's a glance given to Petra there. "No pressure."

Careful not to pour it out too fast, Mel hauls back on the cup and sets it aside, back on the table. "No problem, sarge." She goes back to the recorder then, holding it up and catching the questions more clearly once again.

Petra shares that look with Wake when the sympathizers are mentioned, but its just for a second, perhaps the confimation that it didnt fly over either man's head, then returns his attention to Hall. Whatever she said before, this subject DEFINITELY has the LtCol's attention now.

"Fleet is gone," she repeats, closing her eyes. "Commander …Bancroft …is our ranking Marine, sir." Her eyes open again, but not as wide. She thinks on the rumors a moment. "Crap. Copies of people. Men. Women. Tall. Short. Machines that bleed but don't die. They talk 'bout faith and life. Strange stuff, sir. People talk. Nobody I know has ever run into them."

"That's a fine description there. Thank your Staff Sergeant." And there he is looking back to Petra. Apparently if anything, the Staff Sergeant has confirmed what Wake was preaching in the little pow wow between him and the LCOL the other day. And with that he leans back a moment. There's a brief glance given back over to the marine. "If you don't mind me asking-you mentioned a radio when I came in.." Wake starts again. "You JTAC?"

Petra's eyes narrow a bit as Hall talks, considering for a moment, then turns his head to Wake and whispers softly, "We need a catalog, with a picture, of every. single. person. in this task force. Do you have the resources to compile that?" When Wake asks the SSgt about JTAC, he simply turns his attention back to her and waits.

The Marine can't really nod, but she glances down and up as if in confirmation. "Was, sir. JTAC. Fourth ANGLICO, Team One." Another swallow. "Got out last year. M'callsign is Golf Zero-Four. Was. Is. ..Is. Kinda fell back into the job, sirs." She sighs heavily. "Need to get back there when I can. Feel like shit, layin here like this."

"It's alright to feel like shit right now. You got holes in you Staff." Wake says with a faint chuckle. "Would you know of a JTAC by the name of Cooper Knox?" he asks quietly. "I believe he was Fourth ANGLIC, second team?" Someone remembers his JTACS or in this case people who are suspected of shady things. Still the question seems harmless enough. Right?

"Copies of…people? Does that mean twins? Religion-spouting robots? What the…frak?" When she says frak, Melpomene looks a bit sheepish and childish, almost to where she feels the need to look around all guilty and stuff. "That doesn't…I mean, how can that be? They're just machines. No blood. No gods. Not unless they worship like…the first hard disk drive or something." She manages to look incredulous at the whole thing, unbelieving.

Petra holds up a finger to Melpomene, touching her arm lightly, then murmuring, "Let the Lieutenant ask his questions. The Cylons have had 40 years to make changes and improvements and we are way behind in figuring out what those are. We need to hear what the Staff Sergeant has to say."

"Happens, sir. Don't mean I have to like it." She swallows and lays her head back. The question from Wake has her blink. Thinking. Thinking. "Mike ..Six-Four? Quiet guy, I think. If it is who I'm thinkin? He was assigned to my team when he was fresh out of school. Came in with this other Corporal. Ogl-something. They were in J-school together. I think we did a CSAR workup. …Yeah. Tough for a first run. Oglesby. He was kinda cute. Rugged." She lets off a long sigh. "I dunno PO. People talk. Its war. People rationalize. Making sense of insanity is insanity in itself." That is probably the deepest thing she's said all night. The phrase is likely a saying of hers. "Probably bullshit."

Wake looks back over towards Melpomene and there his eyes narrow for a moment. "I need you to be quiet, Petty Officer." But if there is any more admonishment it doesn't follow as the Major intervenes. And so the Lieutenant bites his tongue right there. Instead he is focusing back on the marine in her bed. "You know how long he was with you-or when he came in. How many years? Or anything that stood out to you about him?"

The Marine's eyes close. "Geez, sir, I'm pretty stoned." Her mouth hangs open for a couple seconds, a small sound escaping like a yawn. They open again and she looks down, which is really just across the room. "Maybe six months? Just over? He went to another team. Two? Three?" A hand moves to rest over her chest. "I can't remember, sir. I'm too high right now."

Petra glances over at Wake, lifting one brow curiously, "Painkillers probably aren't going to help any more answers she has for now. Anything else you think can be asked at the moment?"

"I understand.." Wake says before he is reaching over to pat the bedside railing. "If you can, real quick. How long ago was it, that you were a JTAC. I know you just got out last year, but I mean, when did you start. How long ago?" he asks. "You answer that for me Marine, and I promise you that'll be the end of my inane ass questions." A grin there. "I'll let you sleep."

The Marine closes her eyes. "I-" A swallow. "Last year? I came in as a Lance Coolie." The woman seems to drift for a moment like she's fallen asleep, but she whispers up again, "Ten years. …and a few months, I guess." Wetting her lips again, "Its cool, sir. Keep me stoned like this, I'll dance a jig. I wanna go back but Gods-a-mighty I feel lovely. Tired. But lovely."

Petra takes a step away from the bed at this point, arms still folded and his attention still focused on the SSgt's face, but he's clearly already running other thoughts through his head. In fact, he almost bumps into a Corpsman making the rounds of those still in care here, muttering a soft apology.

"We'll get you back. I promise." Wake says before he's looking back towards Petra. "Ten Years.." Though likely Knox was not there that freaking long. "I want to talk to the other JTAC's on board." Or down on the ground. And so he looks back towards the Marine and starts to slip back. "Thank you Staff.." he mumbles soft before coming in to whisper to Petra. Only then would the Lieutenant back out of the room to give the woman peace.

Petra nods very slightly at whatever Wake whispers, letting the rest of his breath go in a soft sigh. Only then does he focus his attention on Melpomene and murmurs, "Come on, Kennard. I think you're allowed a 'what the frak' once we get out of sickbay."

"Holdin you to that, sir," the Marine whispers before swallowing once more. She lays there, the woman in bad need of a shower and covered in a weeks worth of grime and scratches from being in the field. Does she care? No. This woman is The Honeybadger of Sleep.

Melpomene lets her eyes go back and forth to the officers and the marine having their conversation. She waits, holding her breath, for the last few sentences to fade away before she finally clicks off the recorder. "Sounds about right, sir."

Petra nods slightly, waiting until Melpomene is stepping away from the bed to turn and start for the hatch himself. This is gonna be a looooong walk back to CIC. Sleep might not be happening for a while.

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