AWD #407: Faith. Mercy. Honor.
Faith. Mercy. Honor.
Summary: Dreyer tries to make sense of things. Knox only confuses him further.
Date: 02/08/2016 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: They Come in Threes
Dreyer Knox 
Security Hub
The beating heart of the Marine Corps' presence aboard the battlestar, the Security Hub is the main dispatch station for all security and armed response personnel aboard the ships in the carrier's accompanying fleet. Staffed to the gills no matter the day or time, there are usually a half-dozen armed Marines stationed here at all times — tasked with keeping tabs on the smaller patrols roving throughout the ship. Mahogany desks line the bulkheads to port, most of which are filled by grunts doing paperwork. In a pinch, Marines use them as benches while gearing up for patrols or raids. At the rear of the room, two flags — one bearing the Colonial Phoenix, the other bearing the Marine Corps insignia — flank a single massive hatch leading aft towards the Armory. To starboard, a smaller hatch leads to the offices of the Battalion's Headquarters Company and to the detention cells beyond.
Fri Feb 17 2006 (AWD #407)

Even while Clara cries and looks forlorn while being taken to her cell, Knox has none of it. He has been in her position. The man has zero rank with anyone or anything but the MP's seem to understand that the only proper guard for a skinjob is another skinjob. He walks her to the cell and makes sure she's secured. The obvious verbal arning to the MP's about strength and the cell doors. After that, he exits the holding area and heads back to what used to be his desk. A clerk owns it now, who is long-since asleep, but he plops down in the chair. Sweats and tanktops, the guy looks like any other Marine in the room. most are swarming over the video feeds and worrying over briefings. he just stares at the desk.

At least the Twelve left recently enough that no one needs too much a refresher on protocol. And most have been trained by now for tranquilizers. Dreyer observes, but spends the actual hand-off starting on his own report. The man looks tired, but it's no surprise. The gym was meant to be his last stop of the day before he hit the rack. Spotting where Knox has settled, Anton grabs a chair and drags it over to sit on the short side of the desk. Catty-corner rather than across. He's still jotting things down, but the scratching of the pen slows as he looks to Knox.

"So, to calm the waters a bit. The thing I wanted to talk about earlier? I've got a project. Cylon tech. The data port uses a cable we don't have. I thought the Heavy might have something or you might be able to help." Better than jumping right into the shitstorm that just brewed itself into a frenzy.

Knox just watches everyone from the desk, sitting there with a blank expression. It's a big hustle from all the Marines and Coop just sits off to the side while they all discuss. His escort stands to the side, sidearm returned, and just leaning against the wall. When Dreyer pulls up the chair, he looks over at the guy. "Cylon tech? Seriously?" He just shakes his head and lets off a long breath. "Yeah, they have their own serial bus. Heavy has the same ports. The primary interaction with the ship is the hand imprint. I can't do anything without it." He just stares back at the Brig entrance.

"It's a SCAMP," Dreyer offers, setting aside the clipboard for the moment. This report is giving him a headache. "But not one of ours. It's better than ours. I need to get what info off of it I can, but without having the right cable-" he shrugs. "Anything you can help with. The Petty Officer I'm working at said it's a pretty high priority task." But his voice fades a bit as he follows the Six's gaze. Lifting a hand to the back of his neck, Dreyer sighs and leans forward. His other arm braces against his thigh, still-taped hand falling to the space between his knees. "Cooper… I've seen the intel report." They all have. "How did you know? That she's the Three? And how- I mean… the report says boxed lines can't download. That they-" He sounds uncomfortable here. Uncertain of how to put things politely. He's trying to be understanding. His eyes drop, lips twisting into a frown. "…don't have a body, just… stored data or something."

"Well shit, Dreyer, of course they have better tech. The Cylons are paracites. They take what humanity had and they just build on it. This should not be a shock." He's testy, but understandably. The guy is mad. "I- I can't think about that." His mind is elsewhere. The brig. The questions that end seem to get a better response, even if he ends up rubbing his face and leaning on the desk. "I didn't right away. I know them when I see them, but she's… I'm not sure if she's a Three. I just know she's not- she is one of.. mine. The model lines." Hands drop from his face. "If she's a Three, she's boxed. Nobody has ever seen a Three. They've been erased. If she's killed, and she is a Three? She's the only one of her kind. She's Mercy."

"It's not a shock. I'm just a bit out of my depth. Rakes has been busy and-" Knox hasn't been around. "Just in a bit over my head right now." Dreyer glances towards the brig. "But we all are." He listens, looking back to Knox. There's a twist of his lips. He's thinking it over. Hand drops from neck and mirrors the other, fingers lacing. "Alright. Yesterday, you were adamant that there's only Twelve. You recognize her as a skinjob. If there can't be more than Twelve and the only other two we haven't identified are male- she must be a Three."

He's thinking. It's not something Dreyer does terribly often. He's generally more of a 'point me in the direction to shoot' kind of guy, but he can. Especially when 'working.' "Why Twelve? You made it sound really significant." It's almost spoken to himself, but not quite. He's not looking directly at Knox, at least. "Mercy?" There's a laugh. Almost a rueful one. "Let me guess… That's the defect? Because genocide is probably pretty damn difficult with someone merciful around."

Coop looks at Dreyer as he explain the first. he lids are low and he looks mildly unhappy with it. "Yeah. I get it. If I think she is what she is, then logical deduction leaves us in one place. She must be a Three. It's just a little bit hard to believe, okay?" A little testy. "Three's do not exist. If she is a Three and she is here, that says something because they were all boxed. They are forbidden." He lifts a finger, arms leaned, "So keep that in mind. If she is a Three, she she is Mercy, then something very frakked up is going on. Do you fully understand what I am telling you?" Maybe, maybe not. "You have no idea what the hell is going on but it's getting close. She is corrupt data, Dreyer. She's had shit go south. She isn't 'defective.' She isn't some computer program. Not any more than I am. We are talking about people. I've got my own fault in this, but for too long humanity has seen the skinjobs as some godsdamned computer program. We are not. We never have been. Hacked, maybe, but we are not some problem children." he levels a finger at the door. "Mercy. The only one in existence. And she came in here saving Marine lives as a Corpsman."

"Well, for one thing, I'm betting it's damn good she wasn't spotted," he hopes, "on Libran. And- look. Yes, you're people. But you're also…" Dreyer lifts a hand, scrubbing it over his features. "You're more than. You are people, but you're also something else. You aren't just computer programs, but you download. And that intel report said stuff about-" he closes his eyes, trying to recall from the last time he read the updates. "your memories can be changed. There may be a reason she's out there. Here. Right?" This is just giving him a headache. He lifts hands to clasp at the back of his head, leaning forward, elbows on the desk itself. "No, I don't know what's going on. But I think you do. Or at least you have an inkling. And yeah, Mercy. Corpsman. That part wasn't lost on me, trust me."

"Yeah, we can download. Lemme tell you something, Dreyer." He Leans forward on the desk, but turns his head a bit to look at him. "The Nines. The Sixes. The Elevens. They've sworn off downloading. They do what they have to, but none of them want to keep this perpetual motion machine going." He looks back to the hatch to the brig. "No, if she's a Three, then she knows something. And you're damned right I know something. I know a lot. Way more than I've ever said. But we're getting close to that. She may be the key for it. If she talks, if she can be turned, it will be the time." He chuckle a little and looks away. "Gods. Could imagine if she is a Three and she actually had a child..?"

"Admittedly, I wouldn't want to download either. Not if I knew my memories could be frakked with." Dreyer's hands drop across the clipboard. Across his mostly-finished report. He still leans on the desk, watching Knox. There is a glance to the brig and he sighs, slowly. "Knox, I've gotta put in here what you've told me. I'm leaving out the gun." To Anton, that part's unimportant. "That she may be a Three, but you're not positive. I'm not intel and I've never been paid well enough to be an officer, but- my legal schooling says this could be a bad spot for you. They're gonna realize you're keeping shit from them." The last, however, elicits a snort after a moment. "That is definitely outside my grade to consider, but that seems like something the Elevens would know, yeah? They're…" Handwave. "Doctor-y."

"Tell the story factually, Dreyer. This isn't a game. All details matter." Knox just stares at the door, still leaning on the desk. "I'm not positive she's a Three, no. But she isn't a Colonial human. She's one of mine.' A rare time for Knox to own what he is. Or was. He then looks over to Dreyer and shakes his head. "I don't give a frak." In a slow, purposeful motion, he lifts his right hand. It balls to a fist and taps his fist over his heart twice. "Faith, Marine. Faith. Semper Fidelis." Dreyer has probably seen the reports of the ghosts. That particular motion is exactly how they greet others in heartfelt moments. "What I have kept was for a good reason. I have no quibble with what I have done or why. I never have. I wrote letters from the moment I knew it was going to happen and I sleep well at night with my actions. Report what you will."

The MP is about to say something, but he notes that motion. There's a sort of gesture to Knox. Fist. Chest. Then he's looking to the Six. "That. I haven't seen you do that before. Where'd you pick that up?" Dreyer's voice is calm, but he's distracted. Trying to remember where he's seen or read about it before. There's just a quietly thoughtful sound as he starts bringing himself back. He's almost got it, but he wait for Knox's reply. Only adding: "It's not my place to judge your actions. I'm just saying that the risk is there and I want to make sure you're aware of it, alright? This is risky for you."

"Tap my chest? It's a gesture to the heart. What's inside. Faith. I dunno, just felt right. I've done it before." Knox looks temporarily sidetracked and flummoxed efore looking back to the door. "Look, D, the point is that Petra and Elias have always known I haven't been giving the full story. That I've operated while withholding. That I did-so out of protection of humanity. Nobody has ever questioned my integrity that has also been in a firefight beside me. People can think poorly all they want. The people who matter know." He glances back but only for a moment. "And make sure the facts about the gun are there. I told the MP what was going on and he gave me the sidearm. I told him to just aim at the back of my head and if I shot anyone then he needed to kill me. I think the guy was too nervous to say no. I was pretty much at 125 percent intensity when I spoke to him."

"I can tell them if they ask. I just figured at first glance, it might… draw from the more important thing." Dreyer lifts hand to hair, running fingers through it. "I don't doubt or question you, Knox. I don't know what you've told the brass and what you haven't. I just know that-" he points towards the Brig. "wasn't wholly in the intel report we all get." He lowers his voice a bit, leaning forearms on the desk again. "I heard what you said to her. To remember who she is and where she came from. Something about-" he looks down at his notes, striving to remember. "Being on the wrong side. And-" this is the part he looks uncertain about, glancing up to the Six. "…you said 'We are their children.' What does that mean?"

"No, she sure as hell was not in the intel report. Three's were boxed. When I realized it, you could have shown me a factual study with proven experiments that showed Caprica was made of cheese. It doesn't make sense, Dreyer." He stabs his finger a few times towards the brig. "She. Should. Not. Exist. …But here she is. Requesting asylum." He looks like his head swirls for a moment before leaning back. The last has him look over at the other Marine and he nods slowly. The words made the Three cry. "She doesn't remember who she is, at least I don't think. But she will. It's going to take time. But yeah, I make no bones about it. The skinjobs are on the wrong side of this war. We have been since the start. Do we look like walking appliances? We're people. We're you and everyone else. We just happen to look the same and need to diverge." As for the children thing… "That's for you to leave alone, Dreyer. That was for her. Things are coming to a head with all of this and truthes are going to have to drop. But not tonight."

The MP Sergeant drags his hand along his face, exhaling in a long sigh. "Knox, I know you think you're doing the right thing, but- shit, man. She shouldn't exist, but she does. You say a few words and they- what?" Dreyer leans back finally, breathing out at length. There's a faint chuckle to it. "You should have been one of the spooks, not a marine. You smoke and mirror like they do." He looks away, biting at his lip. Then back to the Six. He looks tired. The tired of feeling like one is in a labyrinth and they've lost all sense of direction. "That gesture you made-" he echoes it. Fist to chest. "Coop… I've read the reports from P. About those ghosts. Multiple people have reported that's how they greet us."

"The difference is that the only thing that matters is doing the right thing. Looking after my own best interest is not in my best interest. It never is. If I make this about me then I'm hosed." Cooper slowly rises from the chair and rubs the back of his neck. It drops away lazily with the implications of what Dreyer said. After a few moments, he nods. "Makes sense." Huh? "But I gues that sorta seals it in my mind. Whatever these ghosts have to say, I'd pay real close attention."

"The difference is that the only thing that matters is doing the right thing. Looking after my own best interest is not in my best interest. It never is. If I make this about me then I'm hosed." Cooper slowly rises from the chair and rubs the back of his neck. It drops away lazily with the implications of what Dreyer said. After a few moments, he nods. "Makes sense." Huh? "But I gues that sorta seals it in my mind. Whatever these ghosts have to say, I'd pay real close attention."

"I never insisted that P has nothing to do with the Cylons, Dreyer. That would be like saying the war has nothing to do with the Colonies. Who the frak said it has nothing to do with the Cylons?" Knox looks at Dreyer like he's grown a second head. "Some of these people are going mad? You do know that I've spoken to Ynyr personally about everything that's happened. He's had a rough go due to a few events close together. Randy does her own thing. There's also a lot of other people who have interacted with them who are just fine, from what I've heard. Citing two examples out of, apparently, hundreds at Saturnalia isn't representative. Like them, don't like them."

"No. You implied these ghosts, one of whom is your sister, have nothing to do with the Cylons. Impossible, I think? Just like the Three in there?" Dreyer shakes his head, tucking clipboard beneath arm. "I don't trust it, alright? I've been given no reason to trust it, other than you saying we'd do well to listen after you mimic the same gesture they give. Coop? I like you. I respect you. But right now, you're giving me reasons not to trust you. And I don't like that." The last is spoken more to himself. A sort of disappointed revelation. He just looks to the Six a moment. A touch sad. A touch frustrated. And then he's heading for the brig proper. Likely to finish his report and check on the guys on duty.

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