MD #060: Unanimous and Individual
MD #060: Unanimous and Individual
Summary: A meeting of the lines that does not go as well as hoped but as good as can be expected.
Date: Wed Jun 07/Jun/2017 (OOC Date)
Related Logs:
Knox Clara Ambrose Diaz 
Map Room - Deck 2 - Battlestar Orion
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 table has the most updated holographic capability and can project the largest displays on the ship. The risers to the sides are done in single-piece desk sections that run the width of the seating area and have large LCD touch displays built into them along with communications ports for headphones. At the head of the room are two very large LED touch displays that can have almost anything put on them, including projections of what is on the map table. In the rear of the room is a large, locked case that holds updated maps and table models.
Sat 23/Dec/2028 (IC Date)

In light of their imminent return to Calumet and the dangers there in along with the corresponding dangers on planet, Diaz had sent around a request to the various representatives of the different lines that are serving on the Orion to arrange an informal meeting between the lines. As this is not something that the normally bubbly pilot would consider to be her place to be organizing the 10 is rather nervous, but the map room is still the map room and the mission is still the mission. As other lines begin to arrive she gestures to the coffee pot that is ready with the usual assortment of Cups and additives that people like to put into their coffee. For herself Diaz has a cup of tea which is at the moment decaf as though that might help.

Coop is definitely showing up for this. He's in his camo duds, though, and already carrying a mug of coffee. He knows his way up here and glances around to see if Petra is around. Huh. No Petra. "Hey, sir. Kinda weird being in this room without the Commander." Lazily moving to the table, he sips the mug and glances around before looking to Diaz.

Clara wanders in roughly on time, plus a little to check her weapon in at the armoury so she isn't strutting around in tactical country with a loaded sidearm. Dressed in combat blacks, and armed with a mug, the Three makes a beeline for the kettle and box of teas. "What's this about?" she asks Diaz plainly, in her usual fashion. Knox gets a small smile in greeting.

Ambrose arrives last, dressed in his blues with the traditional medical lab coat over the top. The Two looks calm and unhurried, glancing around the room to count the other Lines present. There's an easy-going smile for Diaz, recognizing the Ten by her rank and flight wings. "Hello Ensign." Then he sees Knox and Clara, and comes to a momentary halt. His smile fades, and the Two speaks to Three and Six with a look of profound respect. Whatever conversation was going on when he entered, Ambrose has forgotten to wait for his chance to interrupt. "Lieutenant Piers. Gunnery Sergeant Knox. It's a great honor to meet you. Both of you." And last but not least, he introduces himself, offering hand shakes all around. "Doctor Ambrose Galen."

Diaz is a little flustered and a wee bit disconcerted to have Coop of all people calling her sir, all things aside - including rank - she , just like Ambrose, is somewhat rattled in the presence of these two War veterans. She is nodding to Coop when he arrives, starting to explain why she suggested this meeting in the first place, only to be slightly rattled more by Clara's arrival. Thankfully she's more familiar with Ambrose then the first two so she aims a relieved look when he joins the group. "To the point, then, we're having this meeting because we're going to be returning to calumet rather shortly and we need to - hopefully - all be on the same page with how we're going to handle the situation of the clerics that are seeded in the population on planet and to establish some sort of easily recognizable code words so that the rest of the crew can discern us from the clerics that they will probably run into." She pauses clears her throat then says, "Just as a starting point, that is, item one on the agenda I mean."

The Gunnery Sergeant looks over to Clara and gives her a low upnod. The 'sir' is implied. Muhreens. He reaches over to take the Doctor's hand and give a solid shake, "Thank you, Doctor. Appreciate you patching us up. Pleasure ot meet you, sir." He's easy about it, though. Sometimes people see different things than he is used to in the mirror. With Diaz beginning, he sips the mug and looks over to the Viper stick. "I like it. Just remember that if they touch one of us, we're frakked. Figure anything we know, now they know. So we're gonna need to commit to defending ourselves pretty heavily. If they get inside our heads, its not just a threat to us. Its a threat to everyone aboard, sirs."

Clara seems entirely oblivious to the effect her obtuseness has on the viper pilot. Tea obtained, she settles onto the arm of one of the couches and fixes Ambrose with a blank look. "I think I saw you in sickbay the other day. Briefly." She was the one masquerading as a pincushion. Her hand is offered awkwardly, once she realises she's leaving him hanging. Then Diaz gets a thoughtful nod, and Knox, a glance. "How do you propose we defend ourselves?"

Following the handshakes and introductions, Ambrose steps back to listens as Diaz discusses the first item on the agenda today. The doctor gives it some thought and is silent for a time, waiting while the others speak before he voices any of his thoughts. "How certain are we about the dangers of these 'clerics' projecting to one of us?" he asks Knox, "As opposed to a human, that is. I don't have much personal experience to draw on, but based on contextual memories, it seems like the risk might go both ways?" Clara's notion of focusing on defense gets a quick nod of agreement from the Two. "Perhaps we could experiment amongst ourselves?"

"Well as to that, I imagine there are three variables that will happen. The first of which is that if one of their clerics lays hands on one of us they're going to drain the Intel out of us and then kill us, take our gear, take our uniforms, put themselves into formation and we're screwed. Option 2 is the variable of Option 1 which again is still drainage of Intel but then convert us and then we're still screwed. Option 3 looks kind of like options 1 and 2 but makes sure that we don't know that we've been essentially hacked and sent back to formation with the rest of our group." Diaz pauses to sip from the mug she's holding, "All options are dangerous,all variables have outcomes that will be unpleasant. Committing seriously to personal defense and being highly aware of operational security is going to have to be one of our Paramount focuses. That said, the question is how do we balance operational security and personal security without jeopardizing the mission at hand? Plus we still need to come up with a series of code words that we can update on the Fly that all of our comrades-in-arms will know is the current code word."

Coop looks to Clara, gives a little shrug. "Kill." A pretty understandable suggestion. Knox has never had a problem killing other line members, clearly. Looking to Ambrose, "I'd say the threat is pretty real. During the Second War the Cylons and One were using mechanical and chemical brainwashing. This is apparently fast an efficient. I'm not positive what 'weaponized projection' entails but I'm guessing its pretty ugly, Doctor. But I'm as uninformed as anyone else, to be honest." All anyone could do is guess. He sips the mug and listens to Diaz, nodding in agreement. "Sounds about right, sir. Easiest, fastest way to tell us apart is going to be to look at Clara and I. We're not spring chickens to resurrecting. We're older, though her less obvious. I've also got my tattoos and scars. Any scars we've built in our lives will be hard to replicate, especially quickly, I would think."

Clara lifts her shoulders in a slight shrug, and blows on the top of her tea. "I think we keep it simple. A single code word for all the Lines, which we change each day, or at the very least, per mission." Her dark eyes flit back to Knox, and her lips purse slightly at his words. Scars, she probably has a few. No ink though, and no major identifying features. "Also, we need more information on this weaponised projection. It's not the first I'm hearing of it. I know it's distasteful, but I agree that we should.." She glances away from him, down to her tea. "..explore."

"Any code word we know will be compromised as soon as we are," Ambrose points out to Diaz. Then he gives a reluctant sort of frown for Knox's proposed solution, but he does not dispute it. "I can imagine any number of unpleasant experiences we could project to people, were we so inclined," he says. "I agree with the Lieutenant. We should experiment amongst ourselves. As for markings … that seems like a workable solution. Anything that would be difficult for our … enemy to quickly copy."

"Personally I don't have any tattoos or identifying scars that would be easy to just displaced everybody knows I mean what I do have are henna tattoos that I usually change on a regular basis I could instead of changing it just keep one standard for the duration of this mission that would address the tattoo scar identifying marks issue," Diaz says this and then sets the cup of tea aside to roll up her left sleeve to display the tattoo in binary on her left inner forearm. "it may not be fancy and it's definitely not… kick ass, I suppose is the word to use, but it's what sets me apart from any other 10 that you guys or anyone else might run into. Do we know if there are any other tens on the ground?""

"Yeah, codewords are fast and easy. The physical verification for Lieutenant Piers and I will be easier. Most of our scars are documented. My tattoos are old and starting to fade a little so.. I shouldn't be simple to replace. Though considering we don't know what a hack looks or feels like…" Coop recognizes the gamble. There's a lot at stake here. "Getting made into a cleric and being brought back to this ship sounds like a fate beyond the worst death." And not one he would want to live through. He does look amongst the others, though, and ends up looking at the tattoo that Diaz has. Expression low, his eyes lift to look back at them. "You all can understand if Honor is a bit hesitant to experiment on each other with this stuff. I mean if the crew finds out we can do this stuff… and we've been practicing? We can't ignore the ramifications. We've worked hard to get here. All of us."

Clara muses on what Diaz says, then looks to the others and proposes in a mild voice, "I have an idea. What if we tattoo ourselves with a code word? Preferably somewhere discreet. I'm not talking about tramp stamps, either." She sips her tea again. "Then we know exactly what to look for, and where." As for Honour and his reservations.. she simply looks away again. Mercy is a double-edged sword.

"I will add an identifying mark on myself," Ambrose goes along with that idea, "and update my medical records. We should all be 'inspected' on return from the planet." He gives a low chuckle for Clara's 'tramp stamp' comment, but nods agreeably to her proposal of code word tattoos. With no idea about what other Lines are or are not on Calumet, he can only look to Clara and Knox when Diaz asks about that. But when the discussion goes back to the projection experiments, the Two grows solemn once more. He thinks for a time before saying his piece. "I agree, there are serious ethical concerns. But I've studied any number of diseases that could potentially kill everyone aboard this ship, and yet no one seems worried that I might set one loose. Because they understand my studies were so that I could learn how to protect people, not how to kill them."

Diaz shakes her head glancing down at the cup of tea that she's holding before she looks up again. "Personally, I'm not comfortable with just beginning to practice projecting; either in this group or in general. The position of the fleet has been very clear that we are not to experiment or practice etcetera, I haven't heard anything that states that this prohibition has been lifted. If we start practicing, even in a small group like this what's, to say that it's not going to make the crew - in general - nervous, if it gets out, or command begin to question whether or not we obey the orders that we've been given?" Diaz sighs and rolls her sleeve back down before looking over towards Ambrose, "I'll use henna to put my tattoos on my left upper arm, then have you add them to my medical file so that it's documented. I'm not ready to put ink into my skin at this point, but I can make sure that the henna stays Vivid and clear." The ten scrubs both palms together then sighs, "I don't want to die as a mindless cleric, and I don't want to live life as a . . blinder wearing drone," the word 'again' is unsaid. "I want to die as a person, not a number, it's important to me to say this, ok?" she adds as she looks around the room. "I don't want to resurrect into slavery."

"I dunno. I think I might look hot with a tramp stamp, el-tee. Little pink and purple. The wife might not agree but its not for her, right?" Coop sagenods. He's become nearly indistinguishable from humanity in the last twenty years, especially in his irreverent manner. He smiles until the coffee gets a sip. Taking a seat on the line of desks, he leans forward at a slight angle. "Right, but a virus is something any human could read about in a book. Some people become virologists. No human we're aware of can pick up a book and teach themselves how to understand and do what we could do. Fear breeds in the darkness, Doctor. It multiplies until people get scared enough to light a torch. Its never too late to lose everything." His eyes sweep to all of them. Diaz speaks and he nods, seemingly in agreement. Or maybe he just understands. "I'll be up front. I've disobeyed that order plenty of times. Even been ordered to disobey it once or twice. I'm pretty comfortable with projecting." When Diaz says her piece about what she wants, though, Coop looks down. There's just a hint of a smile there. "Diaz, sir, I rebelled because I wanted every single one of us to be able to say that and mean it." The words are quiet, as are the next. "If you all decide you want to practice, or explore this stuff, then I say we do it as a team. All or none. I hesitate, but I'm not a Six anymore. None of you are your number unless you let yourself be. But we can choose as a team of individuals."

Clara looks over as Ambrose speaks, and a smile blooms on her lips at his last words. Like she's found some sort of kindred spirit in the man. "Yeah, exactly. Besides, the only ones we're screwing over if we wash our hands of gathering data on this, is ourselves. And the Fleet as a whole. Whether or not we 'like' the idea is largely irrelevant." Diaz's words, however, cause her to frown slightly. "You're not ready to put ink into your skin at this point?" she repeats with thinly veiled irritation. "So that's it, then? I'm too special for this war, so frak the rest of you?" She doesn't bother touching the illegality of projection. Rules were never her strong point, anyway.

Ambrose spends a time simply listening to the conversation and absorbing the opinions of the more senior line-members. "Agreed," he seconds Diaz's desire not to end up a slave to The Machines. "And I also agree we shouldn't experiment unless it's unanimous. We can ask Command for approval if that's a condition that will make everyone more comfortable. Or less uncomfortable." Then there's a small frown for Clara's retort to Diaz, and the Two clears his throat. "We can disagree without being disagreeable," he advises in a patient tone.

Sharing a bit of a smile in Coop's direction Diaz picks up her cup of tea again, both hands curled around the side, looking as though she's more at ease one she's heard his words. "I know that, Coop, and believe me when I say hearing you put it into words means a lot to me." Diaz starts to glance towards Ambrose only to have Clara's words draw her attention next. The Not So thinly veiled irritation that she gets from the three makes Diaz stand slightly straighter and set the cup of tea down again, untouched. "why is it that my own individual preferences have less bearing than yours? I believe that tattoos should mean something important, something vital, something lasting. Putting words or images or symbols or glyphs in ink into my skin should mean something to me, something that I want to carry forever. As I understand it," and she glances towards Coop again, "you've had your tattoos redone at least once correct? The images, the symbols, the ink, the time it takes to get it done, all of that matters to you. So why is it that my individual perspective on a tattoo doesn't mean as much?" this question aimed at Clara. "I'll carry an image on my skin, I'll make sure that it's visible I'll make sure that it's clear, I'll make sure that you and anybody else that wants to look at it can see it, can recognize it, can memorize it, but that doesn't mean I'm ready to tattoo it into my flesh. It doesn't make me special; that doesn't make me any better or less than anybody else in this room. it's still my body and I've earned the right to decide what happens to my body just like you." She exhales a slow breath, visibly uncomfortable, "That said, I agree that we should clear it, and work as a group to make sure we have a handle on our own skills so we're better prepared."

Coop looks over to Clara as she speaks up like that. But does he get involved? Newp. He's learned to leave Clara be over the years. Some people just need to be the way they are. He does look at his mug of coffee for a few seconds, though, but then look back towards Ambrose. "I'm up for whatever you all decide. Under or over. I'm not about to quit on anyone." Looking back to Diaz, he gives a confirming tilt of his head. "They mean something to me personally, yes. I earned them and I'm fiercely proud of them. Someone once said that what we obtain too lightly we shall never esteem too greatly." He'll leave that there. "As long as we are all aware of what to look for with each other. Diaz, you may need to come up with something other than henna. May. Just think on it? If other people are amenable to her thinking on it for a day or two?" Its offered around.

Clara starts to respond, then spots the frown from Ambrose and is treated to a mouthful of words from Diaz in turn. She purses her lips, locks eyes with Diaz, and nods slightly. "Fine. Just come up with something better than frakking henna." Is she happy? Not at all. But Threes and Tens have never gotten along spectacularly well, have they? "This isn't my show, Coop. She can do whatever she wants." Pushing off the table, she finishes off her tea and prepares for the 'meeting' to be adjourned. Is there a gavel somewhere around here?

Angling one more nod at Coop, Diaz says "okay, I'll think on it." Another glance is aimed at Clara, then around towards Ambrose, before she simply shakes her head. "I don't think we're going to get any further on the To-Do List then we are right now, so we might as well call this done. Someone needs to talk to command. Whether we do that individually with our own division heads or if we go straight to the top of the chain of command but someone needs to get the ball rolling. If nobody else wants to do it, I'll take it to the CAG."

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