AWD #061: Warding For Battle
Warding for Battle
Summary: Petra and Emilia go over some information about Picon before the group gets ready to head out.
Date: 07/03/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Ongoing RP about the Picon Resistance Forces.
Emilia Petra 
Deck 2 - Ward Room
The Ward Room's centerpiece is a finely crafted oak table built into a rectangle with sweeping curves towards each corner, matching chairs lining it like a ring. The far end of the room are the flags of each of the Twelve Colonies, the Colonial flag at the left end and the Fleet's flag at the right to flank. At the other end is a countertop built into the wall that has fresh coffee brewed in a pot, and another for ice water, when Command Staff is present.

One of the few days Petra does not pull a Watch shift in CIC, and that's because he's scheduled to go back out to meet Spree's refugees this evening. So rather than being across the corridor, he's taken over the Ward Room again, with a pile of papers spread out around the chair he's camped out in. Elbows currently on the table, hands on his forehead, he stares at a few photos of the Picon mountain ranges, frowing.

Entering from the hallway, Emilia has a pile of folders under her arm. She's been busy with some of the refugees from the freighter—talking over what was observed about how the Cylons attacked and what precisely the fleet had been doing up until the end. She's been in the simulators a -lot- too. So much so that she is being eyed a bit by more socially-minded pilots and ECOs. She can't precisely explain her reasoning for that which has lead to her isolating herself and thus the vicious circle begins. Therefore, seeking out Petra may be a two-pronged sort of attack: both intel and friendship in one person. "Hey." That's said in a low voice as the woman leans against the door.

Petra sucks in a sharp breath when he hears the hatch open up, straightening up a little as he turns his head to see who's come in. He seems to relax a little when he recognizes the face, offering with a wan sort of smile, "Hello Captain. Shut the hatch behind you, if you would please? I'm trying to block out the sounds of CIC for a while. Plenty of space at the table if you need somewhere to work?" Considering Emilia's familiarity with Picon, Petra's apparently been looking at fairly accurate maps of the area around and including ANVIL's mountain.

"That and a more familiar face," Emilia admits as she shuts the hatch behind her, ambling over to set up on the table opposite him. "So many people I don't know and with a slightly different priority and urgency level than me. Which isn't good or bad. Just different experiences. Figured I would rather sit around with someone who maybe understands my endless need to study." She's eyeing the map thoughtfully, her lips pursed.

Petra mmms as he takes in a deep breath and lets it go, turning his attention back to his maps and papers, "Most of the people you run into here were out here when the war started. So rather than being down in the thick of it like you were, we had to find out from a distance about the horror the Cylons brought down on all of us. I'm sure that drastically changes people's perceptions and priorities. I can say that's the first time I've had to kill someone with my bare hands, despite how much we trained hand to hand combat in the Academy. I never thought I'd actually have to use it."

"Yeah. Have you talked to anyone about that?" Emilia glances at him as she opens her folder. Her paperwork is the sort that file-heads love: neatly organized, clipped, marked with postits. She glances at him once she has her space set up, her lips pursed. "I've killed more than I want to admit with either gun or my bird but that's not the same."

Petra hesitates for a moment at the question, then shakes his head once. He doesn't look up, "No. It wasn't his fault, but there wasn't anything else we could do. They were there to kill us and very well equipped to do so. They almost DID kill you. They DID kill your ECO and my entire flight crew. BANCROFT is the one that lied to them and set them off the chain at us." He sets his jaw for a moment, tapping the butt of his pen against the table, "And Im going to make sure that waste of human life pays for it."

There's silence on Emilia's end. She nods for a moment, staring down at her paperwork. "They did almost kill me. But I didn't die. Other people have. Probably others I don't know about—" The woman's voice comes to a halt and he can see her gnawing on her lower lip, real worry and concern on her face. She takes a slow breath in and looks up at him then, cocking her head to one side. "Just don't confuse justice and vengeance."

Petra finally does glance across the table at Emilia for a moment, pursing his lips, "As much as I want to put a bullet in his face myself…that would be an easy way out for him. We're about to call him out across the face of Picon, and I KNOW he's not going to go down easy. He's going to be responsible for a great deal more death on Picon before its over, and I'm laying all of it, at his feet. And he IS going to stand court martial for it."

"Justice," Emilia says after a moment, nodding slowly. "That's the better way to go about it. If we just go in there gunning for vengeance, we'd be the lawless types that the poor Gunney was worrying had boarded his ship outside Hera. Doing a formal court-martial is different." She smiles at him slightly then twiddles the edge of her folder. "Think we could get in word to some of his units in there? There's…there's a lot of good people in there that don't deserve to die for his ego." To say she looks trouble is an understatement: she looks almost sick.

Petra looks back down at the papers, "We're going to be broadcasting over all of the frequencies we know his units use. We're providing all the information we have, so that his own units can check the unit names and verify the events on his own…so that maybe Rover One and Cowboy Eight realize they were firing on Colonial Navy personell and not some 'frakking traitors'. Bancroft inspires a lot of loyalty, I get that, and a good commander in a time of war can inspire some bloodthirsty loyalty. But. I'm hoping that a Marine's sense of honor is going to drive a chink in that armor."

"So am I alive or dead in those broadcasts?" Emilia asks quietly, looking up from her work again. Not that she's actually working, of course.

Petra offers another wan smile, "Actually, I wasn't going to mention you at all. If you want me to, we can, though Im not going to lie about it - that's one of the rules we have to stick to. Bancroft's been lying to his men. We HAVE to be telling the truth. If it comes out we lied or were deceptive about anything? We're descending to his level and we'll never get the upper hand with his Marines."

"No lies. They don't deserve that. Any of them. They're just…they're…." Emilia'svoice trails off and she spends a moment fussing with her folder on the desk. "They're just trying to do the best they can in a crazy situation. And the horror and trying to survive. And here's this guy who has supplies and a plan and they -are- surviving and you want to believe him because he's a person and not a toaster but…"

Petra watches her for a moment, then slowly nods his head, "I understand. I can be thankful I've never been put in that situation, but I can understand. That's why we're handling it the way we are. We aren't going in. We aren't going to start a fight. We ARE, however. loaning Spree a huge chunk of our Marines so she can brace for the fallout of doing the right thing and standing up against her mutinous CO. If we don't give the rest of the Resistance Forces an example that we WILL protect them for doing what their honor demands they should do, we don't have any hope of getting Picon under lawful control."

"You understand better than most would," Emilia says slowly. "Though you were hunted by his men. You've not been hunted or shot down by toasters." Emilia's hands clench a pencil so tightly that her knuckles turn white and the pencil is in danger of breaking. "I can at least predict people." But then, she's been shot down numerous times at this point. "Anyway. I'm glad to hear that it will be done that way. It has to be. And I appreciate it."

Petra smiles slightly, but there's no real humor behind it. He hesitates again for a moment, considering, then offers in a softer voice, "I'm taking a big risk. A huge one. But…its the only one we can take, in my opinion. We're throwing our weight in with Spree. Bancroft has millions of Marines to call on, against our hundreds. If we wins this fight between his command and Spree's command…Picon and Aerilon and, well, all of the remaining Resistance Forces, are going to be actively hostile towards us, making this a two-front war. We'll have to avoid all of them, and stop helping, to reduce the risk of losing our own people to Bancroft's anti-air. The Cylons WILL WIN Picon. Its a mathmatical certainty, it doesn't matter HOW brilliant the ground commander is: Against a army that can sit and rebuild themselves effectively indefinitely, its simply a fight of attrition, and Picon will lose."

"Yeah. I started doing the math and I realize it. I think more of them are like that group we found that helped us than like his hardcores." Emilia says that slowly and cautiously. "No guarantee, of course. I -could- be wrong. But I don't think I am. Not that many people are at HQ, really, and the territory he claims is /huge/." She digs around in her folders and produces a few mapslikely scrounged from a ship librarythat she's started to mark. "So the Picon authority, back in the day, listed a lot of gear as scrapped that wasn't. It had been refurbed to new and stored, just in case. The armories I told you about. Here and here," there are two marks on the paper, "are the armories in his control. I don't know much detail wise about what is in them but they are hugeeverything from weapons to gear to supplies. Supposedly there are dozens but they've been hidden for forty years and I think most of the people who knew about them were killed on Warday. Spree has two as well. I would bet she isn't fessing up to them yetwe were all ordered not to talk about them. That is where the civilians are being kept at the moment but I don't know where Spree's Armories are. I bet there are more, out there in the midst of all that." She gestures across the expanse of Picon on the map.

Petra narrows his eyes a bit as he scrutinizes the locations she points out, "So if this turns into a protracted fight, we may have to entertain the idea of raiding both armories, to cut off his access to them. Once Picon is back under the control of one Commanding Officer, we should look at putting a team on the ground who's sole job is to find the other armories. We may not be hurting for bullets right now, but we will in a few months if we don't find other sources." He sighs softly and licks his lips, "You have any recommendations, or information you think would be helpful, about him or the Cylons? Especially if it has to do with that compound he supposedly allowed to get built."

"There would be a lot of civilians in those Armories caught in the crossfire. And frankly? If I were the Marine who was dubious about Bancroft but I heard about a place where my Granny was hiding getting raided? Bancroft would start sounding pretty good to me." She points to a place to the side, away from both Spree and Bancroft territory and behind enemy lines. "This is where I ended up on Warday. The AMARG Boneyard. Tons of ships in there. Tons. Being guarded by Cylons both on the ground and with air defenses. They need their cores spun up and they need to get cleaned, fueled and so on but otherwise they are in good shape. There's even fuel on site. All in Cylon hands. But military and civilian transport there. But what little we've managed to hear since Warday has the Cylons repurposing these."

Petra hrms softly, murmuring, "You're probably right." He sighs and takes a moment to rub his face, considering the map, "I suppose we'd need to take some recon pictures and consider planning an action there. We can't really get the big stuff off of the surface without it getting shot down, unless the FTL keys are there and they work. Otherwise, the basestars will just blow them to pieces before they completely break atmo." He glances up at her face, "Do you recall HOW heavily they were guarding the place? We'd have to take the fuel stores intact. No way can we get a tanker down there."

"No one has been able to get close at all." Emilia makes a brief face. "I miss that old raptor of mine that's there though she was shot to hell and back." Exhaling, she snaps her fingers. "Supposedly the Baker Bay did a fight a while back. Rumors but there was wreckage in orbit that supports that." She shrugs slightly, not sure about it. "I think there is definitely support for the possibility but I can't confirm it."

Petra looks a little distasteful at that, "That will be a little harder to check out. We might be able to float a raptor out there in the wreckage and have them passively scan for things, but with multiple basestars in orbit, that's a really risky proposition." Again, he taps his pen against a pepaer, pursing his lips in thought, "Alright. Maybe we'll get lucky and one of the Baker Bay's raptor crews is still alive down there. If we had a super dreadnought in the tasks force…" He trails off, but the hint on his face is the same kind of hope a kid might get when you imply there's a chance he'll get a new toy.

"/Supposedly/ they took out four basestars that day." Emilia shrugs at that, smiling slightly. "You know how rumors get after a while, though. Especially in a population desperate for good things." She gives him a pained look and shrugs. "I haven't heard any rumors. I did a mission out to Scorpia. I had pictures. I hope my ECO still has them. There's some sort of Cylon construction project going on there but there also seems to be a strong resistance, especially to the north. Lots of radio traffic and jamming. Damon may have it." That's said slowly, thoughtfully.

Petra mms, "A Dreadnought, I can believe it. We took out two when we jumped back to Caprica, and that was little old us in a teensy Mercury Class Battlestar. The Baker Bay has /12/ of the guns we only have 4 of. I can imagine the kind of carnage they can wreak with that." He sighs a little and stares wistfully at the map, "Alright. I need to pack up and get ready to go. Are you coming back with us this evening? We have a couple of busses of Marines to deliver, and will be bringing back refugees and wounded."

"If I'm needed? I think I'm on backup tonight but like I said, if I am needed, I'm in." But she's apparently going to do a bit more work as she's not gathering her papers yet. "You should talk about it more. Hunt me down when I'm in the gym or something. I go at odd hours."

Petra nods slowly and rises to his feet, slowly gathering things back up into a stack he can shove back on his clipboard, "Well. Perhaps I'll see you in the gym tonight after we get back, then. I usually try to run on the treadmills, then swim a few laps to calm down and find a center, so maybe see you there then. Thank you, Captain." He offers another faint smile, this one more genuine, before turning to go.

Emilia smiles back herself before bending over her work, ruthlessly and efficiently taming the paperwork in hand.

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