PWD #15: Could Be Nothing
Could Be Nothing
Summary: Thaddeus goes to the JTACCO with a troubling letter. It could be nothing, though.
Date: 20/12/2012
Related Logs: See also: It's Probably Nothing.
Petra Thaddeus 
Map Room
Dominating the room is the large bottom-lit map table in the very center. Ten feet across and eight feet the other way, the table can gather a large number of people around it while still accommodating enlisted and support personnel in the small riser seating behind the table. The risers are done in single-piece desk sections that run the width of the seating area and have small reporting displays built into them along with communications ports for headphones. At the head of the room are two very large LED displays that can have almost anything put on them, including projections of what is on the map table. A single computer at the support seating controls this and in the rear of the room is a large, locked case that holds maps and table models.
December 20th, 2004.

To Hunt A… Junior TACCO. It's a cheaper production than the glitzy Caprican reality flicks, cast and crew consisting only of Captain Kostopolous. Having grilled one of the CIC Ensigns still too starry-eyed to know what information does and doesn't need to go to a Naval Captain, he's learned the JTACCO's done his shift about…

…well, now. And so he loiters, casual as a Raptor Pilot can be near CIC (hint: not very), leaned up against the corridor near the Map Room, eyes peeled.

Poor Petra. Doesn't even have a clue he's being stalked. Probably doesn't even have a will made up! When he steps out of CIC, a notebook tucked under one arm so he can rub his face with both hands and start down the corridor. Recognizing the Captain and thinking little of it, he flashes a smile as he starts for the map room door and murmurs, "Evening Captain. Waiting on someone?" He doesn't really STOP, jist slows down as he reaches for the door, fully expecting Thaddeus to have more important business than him to wait on.

At least he's not about to ambush Petra with claims about an illicit fraternization sex-ring. Small blessings, right? "Major," Thaddeus greets back, straightening up from his slouch, chin lifted in an up-nod. He's long since left the compulsive saluting behind, but manners is manners. "Was hoping for a couple minutes of your time, actually, if they're there to spare."

Petra arches one brow in a bit of surprise, tugging the door open but pausing there for a moment. Finally he nods agreeably and lowers his voice, "I just got relieved, and I usually spend a half hour or so looking at the astrophysics charts we have of the system. Come on in and tell me what's on your mind?" With that said, he steps back enough to make room for Thaddeus to step in ahead of him, and guestures with his free hand.

"Appreciate it," says Thaddeus, and ambles into the Map Room. His boot-soles scuff on the ground as he walks, and his hands slouch down into his pockets. Casual as you please, see? He doesn't fool anyone, though; the pale blue eyes flick around, searching for any nearby people with the quick-but-thorough manner that keeps a pilot alive long enough for Captain's pins. Once the both of them are in the Map Room and the door's shut behind them, he detours for a chair. "Heard a thing," he begins. "Overheard a thing, more accurately. Could be nothing. Figured I'd rather bring it to you and waste your time, than pretend I've got the brainpan to figure it out myself."

Petra steps in after, closing the door behind as he listens. He makes his way over to the map table and tosses his notebook doen on it, "If there's something I can help with, then absolutely. Course, with some of the rumors floating around, it might depend on which you're looking for help with. Not sure I even want to know for certain what's been going on in the head lately." His voice trails off while a smirk creases his face, but he stops and leans a hip on the edge of the table, "So what's going on?"

"Shit, you've got bigger fish to fry than who's doing who in which closet," says Thaddeus, his frown gentling enough to permit a scratchy chuckle. He doesn't sit down in his chair, instead leaning one hand on the back of it, the other digging into his pocket. "Frakked if I know what's going on. Sat on it for a day now, trying to decide. Only Marines I really know on the Orion are the ones what drag me in and out of the brig, and this is about one of their Captains. Kreskas. You know him at all?" He pulls a folded envelope out of his pocket that's been torn open at one end and looks like it's been marched over with several dirty boot. "Open when I found it," he clarifies as he offers it to Petra.

Petra gives Thaddeus a slightly more curious, but still amused, look when he talks about Marines throwing him in the brig, but when he mentions Kreskas, the amusement fades away and he nods, "Yeah. Just had a meeting with him beginning of the week. Why…?" He trails off when the envelope is offered, his expression going MUCH darker than what you would expect someone to show when being handed a scuffed up envelope. The Major's seen this before. Regardless, he stops and pulls a pair of jersey-type gloves out of his pocket and puts them on, then takes the envelope gingerly. Under his breath, he mutters, "Frak. This better not…" He takes the letter out and unfolds it, his expression darkening as he reads. A deep breath is taken in and let go, "Well. I wish I could say I have no idea what the frak this is talking about…"

"Guess it's good I didn't think on it a second day," Thaddeus quips, sourly, as Petra's expression clouds over. He's silent while the JTACCO reads, then speaks again: "Folks are bitching, but it's- you know. Same bitching as it always is. Winter's cold, eighteen months away from home sucks, and the cute Ensign in the second squad over won't give me the time of day." His shoulders twitch in a faint shrug. "After the Reese, all my ECO could talk about for days was 'what if the Cylons' this, 'what if the Cylons' that. Might just be a bad apple running with that sort of paranoia for all it's worth." And it might not. Thaddeus looks none too pleased to be considering that second option.

Petra chews lightly on the corner of his mouth, reading and rereading the message while he listens to Thaddeus. Finally, the Major's eyes flicker up to the ECO's face, and watches him for a moment, "Well, first, thank you for bringing this in. We've…I've…gotten one of these before, just like this says. This could be someone jerking our chain, but the Admiral, Commander, and I all think there's something not right about this, so." He pauses, "We're already warned Air Group and Medical and Marines and you'll see they're stepping up drills and air patrols. Captain Kreskas actually has that letter right now, so I'll get this one to him as well, and maybe he and the MPs can tell us more about them now that there's two of them. Something's going on. I don't know that I can say its Cylons. Its starting to sound like it's a group of folks that want to egg the Cylons into breaking the Armistice, and if we hadn't caught the Reese when we did, they might have done just that." He refolds the letter while he's thinking, "I'm assuming you're talking about Peacock. Try to calm him down if you can…that wild, unfounded speculation shit will get out of control and start panicking the civvies. Assure him we're on it. Obviously, whoever's writing these doesnt SEE a clear reaction, so he thinks we're doing nothing."

Well, /shit/. It's Thaddeus's turn to have his expression cloud over and darken. "Another letter like this," he echoes, as he turns that implication around in his teeny-tiny pilot's brain. "I still believe what I told Theo after he started spinning in his seat," he says. "They wouldn't have agreed to the Armistice in the first place if they wanted to wipe us out. They would've finished the war. They've laughed their shiny asses all the way off to some other corner of the galaxy while we chew our nails off waiting for them. Some war-hungry shit-for-brains wanting to sucker-punch them back into the picture, though…" /That/ has all sorts of unpleasant potential to it, by the looks of Thaddeus's face. "Yeah. I'll keep him simmered down, Major. No worries on that front. You're the only one I've shown that to." A point of his chin at the note.

Petra mmms, "I dont know that anyone's figured out why the hell the Toasters did what they did, but I think it's safe to say if WE cross the line? They won't continue to be silent, even after 40 years. So…I dont know what this guy and his friends are up to, but keep your eyes open." Again, he stops for a moment, then adds, "We have a new Intel Officer on board that is doing a lot of the digging for me on this. He might come ask you some questions about exactly where you found this, and any details you remember, so maybe write down anything interesting you remember for him?"

Thaddeus purses his lips for a second, but nods all the same. "Not a lot /to/ remember, but sure thing. His job to sniff something useful out of a pile of bullshit, anyway." A quick, mirthless grin. Poor CIC bastards. "I've got CAP tomorrow morning at 0730- I'll be coherent an hour before then, and any time after. Just let me know when he needs me. Anything else before I get out of your hair, now that I've ruined your day?" Cue another mirthless grin, this one with a wry sort of apology.

Petra smirks at the last comment, "I wouldn't go that far, but looks like I have a couple things I need to take care of real fast. Never a dull moment, right?" He looks down at the envelope in his hands again, tapping his fingers against it, then continues with a nod of his head, "I'll be on duty, I suspect, so I'll probably be around while you're on CAP. I'll let Lt. Wake know so he can catch you. Thanks, Captain. Keep your ass safe - we don't know what might happen, so don't assume anything out there."

"And here I thought the worst thing about the second tour would be finding out the wildlife really /does/ shit Ebola," quips Thaddeus. No hemorrhagic fever for the Orion; no-o-o, they get warmongering and potential Cylons, instead. He straightens again, smoothing down his now-empty pocket, and gives Petra another up-nod. "Have a good evening, Major. Keep your own six safe, too." With that, he's off to the more familiar grounds of the Raptor berthings.

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