PHD #092: Air Delivered Satisfaction
Air Delivered Satisfaction
Summary: Constin and Coll spend another night in the brig. Constin discusses his viewpoints on law. Coll discusses her hobby on the Ordnance Deck.
Date: 30 May 2041 AE
Related Logs: Anything with Coll in the Brig
Constin Coll 
Main Brig
Tiny and cramped, the Main Brig seems designed to be claustrophobic. The steel bars lining the three cells have been set into the steel bulkheads on each side. Inside each cell is a stainless steel toilet and a bunk that might be too short for some of the taller crewmembers. The dreary conditions don't seem to be helped by the presence of a Marine guard who is there twenty-four hours a day, as long as a prisoner is in custody. The whole room is under surveillance via camera system in the Security Hub and every visitor must sign-in and abide by the rules.
Post-Holocaust Day: #92

Coll is chillin in her cell. Like she'd be anywhere else. She's laid up against the wall and tapping a foot on the floor while she reads -gasp- a book. It looks like some dry textbook but the woman seems content enough to sit and look at something other than four walls and a couple bars.

New guard comes in at 0000 hours, information is exchanged, old marine heads out, new marine settles into the chair, and leans back. "Get your primping file delivered, Coll?" Constin wonders aloud as he looks over the scant few lines that consisted of the night shift's report.

The Brig Rat looks up and smirks at the comment, marking the place in the book with a finger. "Yep. Had a hair dryer in it, too." She pats at her bun delicately and smirks, holding up the book. 'Colonial Law and Trade Restrictions: Virgon'. "Lemme tell you? This is some stellar shit right here. Got anything better over there?"

"Trade restrictions?" Constin echoes dryly. "Yeah, sounds.. real rich." A shake of his head and short grin. "Law, ah'm with ya on. But Trade? Not even when ah'm joking, Coll." As for whether he's got anything better to read, he looks back to the table, and muses, "Would be repeat reading for you, most like."

"Psh. Most of the law in here was stuff pretty much limited. Didn't realize I'd broken so many of these growing up. I'm not sure if I should feel accomplished about that or not." She laughs and nods to the last. "Yeah. Probably. How's the investigation goin? Oh! Finally talked to a damned lawyer from JAG earlier."

"You know damned well ah won't tell you about the investigation, Coll," the big marine eyes her with a grin. Mention of the JAG office catches his attention. "Took long enough," he drawls. "Have anything worthwhile to say?"

"Well I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask. Least I can do is eye you ponderously and overanalyze your grunts while you look over the paperwork. This way I can get a reaction." Coll returns his grin easily. "Eh. I had to repeat myself. Again. Talk about the case against me. Basically told him everything I've already told you. It wasn't terribly exciting. He seems positive about the whole thing but I guess he's supposed to in order to keep his client from losing her shit."

Constin chuckles under his breath at the retort. "What is that now- five times?" he wonders with a wry twist to his expression at the talk of repeating. "Heh. So he didn't know how little shit you had left to lose, then?" the MP quips back. They give you a prelim hearing date yet?"

Coll rolls her eyes and stands from the bunk, leaving the book aside. "Gods. At -least-. Though at least now I think enough people have been in here that if anyone needs to ask, they can ask someone else." She puts her arms through the bars to lean on the middle lazily. "Pretty much. He seemed kinda surprised I was so hell-bent on going back to work. Dumbass probably forgot what it was like to enjoy his job. Separated from his tit at Picon, he's cut off from all his juicy law findings." Another roll of those eyes. "Nah. No hearing date yet. But I guess they're working on it. Maybe Monday or Tuesday. You'll probably know before I do."

"What you expect? He's a JAG. You ever met a JAG who liked their job? Hope ah never do.. they'd be damn near sadistic," Constin notes with a short chuckle. Uncrossing his arms, and reaching for one of the books he'd brought in with him, Eleftherios notes, "Well if ah do, will make sure to let you know so ya can get another shower and nail file."

Coll chuckles and nods a few times. "Yeah. No kidding. I can't bring myself to quite wrap my head around duty and honor when it comes to law. I mean, I get why its important. Duh. But there's so many damned people out there with different ways to see it." There's another soft laugh with his last comment. "Thanks. So what about you? You think the word or the spirit of the law is more important?"

"Differences between word and spirit are for higher ups to define," Constin answers with knee-jerk practice. "Em-Pe's enforce the word, and let Ess-Ohs and judges decide the spirit. That's how law works on the lowest level." Glancing back at the book in his hands gives the big man a moment's pause, and he lets out a terse breath. "The word's there to make the spirit enforceable. Nobody can really separate the two. Put too much weight on the spirit, and you rob the word of the chance to enforce the spirit."

"Hmm." Coll looks thoughtful and tilts her head away. "You know, that's a smart way to look at it. I hadn't considered that. Like, I got that they're intertwined but not like that. I always figured it was just two different ways of looking at it." She looks back to him and leans her head on the bars. "You're an idealist, aren't you? Tempered with a little bit of realist?"

"Idealist?" Constin echoes, looking up with blue eyes narrowed in surprise. "Would call mahself a pragmatic. Trying to make things better won't work 'til you see things how they are." A shrug accompanies the words. "What would you call yourself? Normally, that is.. excepting the last couple days," he qualifies with a grinning afterthought.

"Dunno if I agree with you. Talking to you? I think your personal image is a little different from what I see. Course, hey, I'm not exactly a psychiatrist. Just strikes me. You have physical reactions to ideas but seem like you have your feet firmly planted." Coll laughs at the end, lulling her head back slightly. "Me? Gods. I'm flightly. It can really very on my mood or what's going on around me. I bounce between the gushy idealist, the cold-blooded realist, and the apathetic soul who just doesn't care about much except living in the moment. One of my favorite things to do on the Deck, late at night? Play old, synthesized, cheesy music and dance around while I'm toolin' on Raptors. Been busted a few times and surprised but yanno?" She shrugs, grinning. "Who cares? Its just who I am."

"Feet firmly planted," he echoes dryly. "Flighty." Canting his head to an angle in an affectation of deep thought. "Damn, it's almost as if.. ah'm a marine, and you're an airy fairy." He cracks a grin at the jab, adding in conclusion, "You *have* been talking to the head shrink, haven't you?"

"That's not a denial, Constin," she challenges light-heartedly. "Call me what you want, but we are what we are. Ain't no changin' that without some effort. Path of least resistance and all that jazz." She winks. "But actually, yeah. Talked to some damned shrink earlier today. Horribly enough, right after the CAG rolled through… Course I'm going to assume you already know how both of those went?" She gestures to the camera pointing at her cell.

Constin nods to the question. "Yeah. Fella asked me about it all, too. Didn't take as long as it did for you," he notes aside. "It does take quite a bit to change folks. What's to deny?" he wonders with a shrug. "Ah've got no idea what you said: something about personal image, and… something else ah lost track of."

"Oh yeah? Well hopefully it went well. Wanted to frakkin die when he showed up. Gods, I was sooo pissed. When that guy asked me if people accused me of being a child?" She balls a fist and shakes it a bit. "Constin, I wanted to strangle him with his gimped-ass leg. Then beat him the rest of the way to death with it." She finally chuckles and sags her shoulders as she deflates, refusing to get too worked up anymore. "Right. Well all I'm sayin' is that its just easiest to be who we want to be. Sometimes we just don't have the same personal image that others have of us. Like, you might think you're an angry bear of an asshole who knows how to torment poor Specialists in his brig. But I think you're a nice guy with a few little quirks."

"Course you did," Constin notes on the desire to strangle the shrink. "That's part of the evaluation: can you resist violent provocation?" Heh. Shrinks. "Nah, ah'm not so bad in here. Will be a royal asshole on duty in the open, though. There's a difference between the job and me, even if ah like the job. Which, by the by, ah do."

"Resist violent provocation?" She chuckles and raps a knuckle once against the bar. "Isn't that what this is for? Or is it more of a throwback design for aesthetics?" she quips. "Nah. aircrew are supposed to meet violence with violence. Sorta like you guys. If we run, there's nobody else to back up. Face it because nobody else will." By the look in her eyes, she probably misses aircrew duties more than anything else in life. "Yeah, I bet you do like this work. Lemme guess, its not so much the whole 'helpin people' aspect so much as making sure that people are tucked away at night and shit isn't going bump around them. Or am I totally missin' the mark?" A quick waggle of her brow.

"Not by much," Constin admits with a nod and shrug. "When ah joined, thought that ah was in for specialized SAW training, or .. demolitions or a Grenadier, or something. Cause back then, ah thought that machine guns and bombs were the best reasons to be a marine," he recalls with a grin. "But instead, it was off to the Em-Pe's, because that's what the brass were short of. Started studying, and found out ah really like it."

Coll listens with a light smile. "You know somethin?" she whispers conspiratorially. "Its the same reason I love Raptors. I love things that go boom. I saw a recruiting video in high school that had an ECO hangin' out a door with a fifty cal, firing at a bunch of Cylons. Vintage footage. Sold me on flight. I really wanted Vipers but ECO'in took me hard when I remembered that vid and saw the missile racks. Mmm. Enough to keep a girl warm on a cold night." She grins dreamily and looks to the ceiling for a moment before looking back to the MP. "So what kinda stuff about it really picks you up? You more into the physical end of it? You don't seem the type to really get off on authority."

"Nah," Constin dismisses the notion of an authority trip with a scoff and wave of a hand. "It was the first time rules ever looked like something more than a list of things that made mah life tougher. These rules are here, for these reasons, to have these effects. And they can change if the rule ain't working. Like someone flipped a switch in mah head," he flicks his finger at empty air along with the metaphor.

"Huh. That's pretty cool. I guess I can understand that." Coll shrugs. "Its something that's always been pretty foreign to me. I've always been like you used to be. Rules're just things that held me back. Like, growin' up in a small town? Social movements and urges and all that just kinda pissed me off. They weren't rules, but just the pressure of it. I always saw the law as something along those lines."

"And you always thought a full rack would keep you warm at night," Constin adds dryly, before giving the comment a real answer. "Ah hear you, though. And a lot of that crap is still just bullshit.. but law's got more to it. Least military law does, not sure about how the civvies set theirs up."

"Well there's something to be said for targeting up a Carvel and letting off all twenty-four in one ripple. If you've never seen it, its a helluva thing. Never heard a complaint about fire support." Coll grins. The last thoughts from Constin get another thoughtful look. "I suppose. My dad was friends with a couple of local cops. Its one thing to protect free people. A lot of that is probably protecting them from themselves. But- No, that does make sense. See, we operate under authoritarian rule in the military. The dangers of our jobs are drilled into us, too. The law -should- be different. The threats are different. We don't worry about theft on a battlestar so much as following regs to make sure, for example, some dipshit doesn't store flarepacks next to the Tylium refueling lines."

"Yeah, in the Fleet, the regs have a damned good reason. Like ah said: there's the cause, there's the rule, there's the enforcing." A breath drawn and let out. "Civvie laws? Don't know much about them, but they make rules for the most broken reasons. Companies make rules to save an extra half cubit over twelve months. Cities make rules because rich folks don't like bright lights or noise.. Don't know how the civvies can stand it," the soldier drawls with a wry grin. "Never have seen a raptor loose a load of missiles, no."

"Yeah, it does make more sense. The laws in our area dealt mostly with things like land, cattle, and how illegal it was to club a mailbox from a moving vehicle - which is totally worth the risk, by the way." Coll looses another sly smile. "I think that's one of the attractions of the fleet, though. More regs, but they're there for good reasons. Nothing like 'You can't bathe your pig in the public fountain during daylight' or something equally nonsensical." To the last, that smile is a little more serious. Maybe even dark. "Here's hoping you never have to. Because if a Marine has to see a Raptor let those loose? Chances are good that there's a reason to let off twenty-four two-hundred pound warheads. Hope you never find yourself in that position, Corporal."

There is a snicker from the marine at the worth of clubbing mailboxes, and a chuckle at the bathing of pigs on the public fountain. Shoulders stir with the humor of the related stories. As to the talk of warheads and raptors. "The day ah find myself watching something like that? Is the day ah'm looking out the window of a transport in a full-on battle. Would rather avoid that for reasons having nothing to do with ordinance, and everything to due with decompression."

"Unless you're trapped on Leonis. Or another Colony." Coll tilts her head toward him with that. "I personally installed the door gun system on the gunship Raptor we sent. And considering none of the Raptors have come back? I'd say they could use the fire support. When it comes, I bet it'll look pretty fantastic to them but they've probably had to go through hell to see it. If you ever see it in space?" She shakes her head, exhaling. "Think 'massive fleet engagement'. We only use those things against big targets like basestars. It'd have to be a lucky hit to score a Raider."
GAME: Save complete.

"Not to mention overkill," Constin adds to that last. "Raptors in atmo, though? Well, since we don't have any full strength Heavy infantry companies on Cerberus, we might need a full spread of Raptors to take down a real hard target." The subsequent thought- that there might not be any Heavy Infantry marine companies left anywhere draws a frown back to his face, for a moment. "Well, suppose the ground pounders on Leonis deserve a bit of a show after all this time."

"Yeah. No joke. I keep wondering how many of the men and women in my old unit got skids up and were able to score hits. I had a dream about it the night after Warday. Kinda like how sometimes in a dream, you can fly?" Coll lets off a long sigh and she looks back to Constin. "Yeah. They do. There's a lot of scuttle on the Deck about what the operation is going to entail. I don't think any of it carries much merit. But once they didn't come back on time?" She purses her lips. "I personally cleared one-hundred ninety-seven missiles and sixty-six bombs for use in three weeks. All done in my off-duty time. They want a show? They won't be short ordnance from the Parnassus stocks. I even managed to sign a few with creative messages."

"Creative messages," Eleftherios echoes dubiously, one brow climbing as he eyes Coll. "Am ah gonna regret asking for a few examples?" the marine wonders aloud. A shake of his head and release of a breath. "Can't remember ever having a dream about flying," the big man muses, setting the book back down, and giving up the pretense of attempting to read any time soon. "Firmly grounded, remember?"

Coll shrugs, smirking. "Nothing horribly funny or catchy. 'Red Light This, Asshole' or 'Metal on Metal Is Hot'." The smile fades a touch. "I went through and named a few of the bombs for friends of mine back on Virgon. Family members. A personal touch of revenge." Her eyes fall an she looks to the floor of the cell, lightly toeing the iron base where its welded to the floor. "Never had a dream about flying, though? Like, you've never had one where you spread your arms like wings and just flew over someplace or around something? Though I once had a dream that I was in my dad's Lay-Z-Boy and it could fly. The more I reclined, the faster it went. Pretty neat." Coll lifts her head to look back with a small turn of her lips upward.

Constin shakes his head, "Nope. Been other people in dreams. Been in different places and times and such. Never flew. Falling, plenty of times," he adds with a grin. "But that doesn't count. Maybe ah have, but ah can't remember it if ever I did." Musing further, he wonders, "Can you insult a toaster by calling it an asshole? Seeing as how they ain't got any.."

"Damned shame. I knew this guy in my squadron who was hyper-religious. He practiced this shit called lucid dreaming where you could control your dreams and he said you would experience them in real time. Dream for like twelve hours and do anything you wanted. He also smoked a lot of grass. Understandably, his callsign was 'Burnout'." Coll looks back to the bars at the floor and toes them a bit more as she chuckles. "I dunno if you can insult a canner by callin it an asshole, but it makes me feel better. Though.. I guess 'Shove This Up Your USB' might be a good phrase to add to one of the mark eighty-fours we've got." Big Bomb.

Constin barks another short laugh at the smoker and his callsign. "How am ah not surprised?" he wonders rhetorically. "Shove this up your USB. Heh. Or writing 'Frak you' in binary on the head of one." Fun ways to mess with machines. Enough to bring a grin to any marine's face.

"Oooooh. I like that binary idea. I might have to grab Marko and see about what kind of creative shit we can put down." Coll smirks towards the ground, nodding. "But yeah. Its one of the reasons I like spending so much time down there by myself. Each time I clear a missile or a bomb?" That smile takes an unmistakable turn for the dark, even if she's still looking at the floor. "That's one more weapon that goes into destroying those frakheads. Even if it misses, it makes them react to us. Makes 'em know that we aren't going down without throwin' a haymaker or two their direction. Makes me proud."

"Huh. Wonder if their processors run fast enough to read something like that.." Constin comments. "If they do, ah wonder if they'd spend a split second actually trying to read the damn thing. Heh!" Coll's latter comments draw another nod and a tight smile. "Damned right," the corporal agrees.

"Heh. I only hope so. Hell, even if they can read the written word it'd still be worth it. The potential for a walker to realize what it said before some of my ordnance hits? Its enough to make it all worth it. Besides, I always liked seeing bombs and missiles roll across the deck with little things written on them. If I ever get back down there, you should come by. Take up a pen and start putting things down. There's something just a little righteous about it." That dark smile hasn't left when she finally looks back to him. "And scrawling things on a bullet or a grenade, I imagine, just doesn't have the same pulling power."

"Maybe not," Constin allows to the lesser value of putting messages on bullets or grenades. "But we do get the extra little pleasure of watching the light go out of their opticals," the marine drawls with a nasty grin of his own. "Ah'll pass on a few laughs in trade for that, Coll." He chuckles again with the words, "And here ah thought you'd had your fill of me on the flight deck with a pen."

"Okay, you got a good point. But then we can also come back with gun camera footage. Shoulda seen that shit that Raptor crew came back with from Leonis. Extreme Pucker Factor. Heard the CAG was putting them in for commendations. It made the hair on the back of my neck go vertical." Coll shakes her head, the daring disbelief visible in her eyes. Must've been a helluva thing to watch a Raptor cut down nuked city streets dodging missile and gunfire. "Nah. I lost my shit at you over something stupid. You were there to do your job. I was too fricken nuts to know any better. Like I said, if they let me back?" She shrugs. "It could be a good time. Bring a few buddies. Ain't gonna hurt to have a few extra Military Police down there."

"Wouldn't hurt to have a few extra Military Police, period," Constin returns. "And a few more Raptors, Vipers, techs, pilots, ECOs, gunners.." the list is let trail off, point made. He doesn't comment on the 'flip out' beyond the joke he's already made. "Havn't seen whatever gun camera bit from Leonis you're talking about. Been a bit busy," he offers by way of explanation.

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