PHD #418: And Eleven Makes Three
And Eleven Makes Three
Summary: Harrier-670 returns to the fleet, bringing an old face along with them.
Date: 20 Apr 2042 AE
Related Logs: TBA
Bannik Cidra Cora Eleven Gallagher Lady Leyla Marko Megan Sofia Solstice Wade NPC 
Fleet Space and The Port Hangar Deck.
Space is space. The hangar deck looks the same as always.
Post-Holocaust Day: #418

[Harrier-670: McQueen] Several days later. Several days since BSG-132 witnessed a violent and bitter feud, and throwing lives, souls, hopes and loves into an all-consuming fire and changed the lives of the Colonial Fleet's little band of survivors forever. The space of the Ouranos belt is disturbed by a tiny flyspeck-sized flash as a dull bronze-and-chrome craft winks into view. It wouldn't look out of place with any usual sights in this fleet as yet another Colonial Raptor. DRADIS pings Colonial transponders, per normal. Only two things might register - no FTL-capable missions have been on the board, and two, this Raptor's transponder also contains the same serial number that corresponded to the one that took off during the battle with the Areion several days ago, deposited a missile payload and then jumped. And went missing.

Apparently, it's back. Its engines slow to a crawl.

[Harrier-670: McQueen] The RCS jets on the mysteriously returned Raptor fire a bit as it changes up its orientation, but then the engines go off as the ship drifts slowly towards the fleet, the Cerberus, proper. Inside this Raptor: The short-haired Eleven clad in a sleek black (and unmarked) flight suit sits at the cockpit of the Raptor, her gloved hands working at the controls and calmly humming to herself. Since the jump ended, she removed her helmet and peers out the viewscreen.

"Those things are stifling." She observes, glancing back at Sawyer and Bannik, two presumably fed-and-watered passengers who were put on this very same bird in a round trip.

Sawyer positively has no nails left, they've each been systematically chewed down to the quick over the past few days but that's not as if that stops her from trying to make further progress on her thumb nail while the Eleven navigates them home. "You should let me step off first. Try to explain things. With the way everyone was up in arms when we left, I don't know how you'll be received. And Allan…I mean your One…" Sawyer takes a deep breath, "You'll be taken into custody, in the least. I'm not sure if you'll be able to take off again?" The last a question, because she's hopeful for the Eleven that that'll be the best possible scenario.

[Harrier-307: Solstice] Sitting in Sweet Pea's backseat, Shakes is calmly gazing over the DRADIS readout in all its green glory. One minute it's all calm and serene with nothing on it's read out. The next there is a ping and the ECO is starting to spool through codes to get the clearance and identify the craft. "Sweet Pea, we got a contact." She says, pulling up the readouts for the pilot. "It's Colonial transponder.." She crosses the database with the number. "It's the Raptor that jumped out supposedly carrying McQueen.." She intones. Her head tilts and the lights shining over her face from her helmet illuminate the quizzical gaze. She patches through the com and despite what she has here on readout, Solstice is going to ask.

[Harrier-307: Leyla] Bertha, for all that her mission is over, is still kitted out with her full complement of armaments, and Sweet Pea, even as Shakes radios the approaching raptor, is moving in to intercept the newly arrived 670. Nothing like a mutiny and a desertion to make one completely paranoid, and all of Bertha's weapons are coming online. A raptor might not be able to go toe to toe with a viper, or a raider, but against another raptor, well…still, at least she's not shooting. "Supposedly. For the now, they stay the hell away from our fleet."

[TAC3] Cora says, "Harrier Three Zero Seven, this is Cerberus Actual. Do you have visual on this DRADIS contact? Can you confirm it is a Raptor?"

[TAC3] "Sweet Pea" Leyla says, "Cerberus Actual, this is Harrier-307. We are moving to intercept the approaching signal. We are about two klicks out before we can get a solid visual. I am not willing to confirm at this distance, despite what we're seeing on our DRADIS."

[TAC3] Cora says, "Harrier-307, Cerberus Actual. Copy that."

[Harrier-670: McQueen] Meanwhile, the object stays put. Stationary. Waiting. As the patrol bird approaches, they will very clearly see that it matches the profile of one normal Colonial Raptor. Inside the Raptor: "Oh. I have /no doubt/." The Eleven muses. "I also go by Sarah, by the way. I should have mentioned that before." Her head cranes back around her shoulder to study Sawyer and Bannik idly. "I'll probably have guns pointed at me. Or worse. I volunteered for this, after all. Don't worry about me." She chrips, her lips quirking to one side. "When it comes to transmit I'll let you talk to them. But just to reassure you, there's no funny business, no…bullshit, you might say." She hums to herself again. "One wasn't really /ours/. We had reports that he finally intervened, when it counted. The Ones aren't all bad. But they're — I think sometimes they're so concerned about /appearing/ responsible that they become irresponsible."

"Well Sarah, that's all I've got is worry right now. One big whole heap of worry, starting with hoping I don't get shot on sight. And I meant one of yours in the…you know…collective sense." Sawyer sends a glance to Bannik as she exhales another long breath. With her heels nervously bouncing on the deck, she looks out the viewport. "Maybe we won't even get as far as the hangar, they're going to shoot us down before hand. Ready?" She asks, reaching to toggle on the comms.

"Oh. Right. I don't know. Sometimes I have…doubts about how united we are as a people. I don't know if I know them anymore." Sarah suddenly observes, in a very frank and raw manner as she glances back again, her forehead crinkling. She just went from impish to melancholy in approximately three seconds.

Bannik merely shrugs his assent to the situation.

The Eleven continues. "It would probably be best for you to do it at least first. The reason they sent me, well, Cairn has a knack for stirring up hornet's nests. I don't think another Two really wanted to get shot in his stead. That would be unpleasant." She gestures to the comms. "Ready. Go ahead."

[Harrier-307: Leyla] Sweet Pea looks no more ready to stand down, if the readings of 307's systems are any indication, than she was before she could confirm the visual. "Hail them again, Shakes. Scan for heat signatures, see if we can pick out how many bodies are in there."

[Harrier-307: Solstice] The DRADIS shows no movements and with no answer, Shakes looks to Leyla, "No movement from the other ship. We are going to have to move in." She recommends. Solstice looks back to console, watching for any changes in the readouts while they coast in. Sweet Pea is already on it though and she keys up the comsys as requested. She adjusts for heat signatures and narrows the focus onto the other craft.

[TAC3] "Sweet Pea" Leyla says, "Cerberus Actual, we are holding at the contact's location. It does appear to be a raptor. However, they are not answering our hail, on any frequency. Shakes is attempting to contact them again. Initiating a thermal scan of the craft."

[TAC3] "Shakes" Solstice says, "Unknown craft, this is Harrier-307 of Cerberus, identify yourself."

[TAC3] "Scoop" Sawyer clears throat, "Cerberus Actual. Raptor Three-oh-Seven. This is Sawyer "Scoop" Averies, requesting that you kindly don't shoot a girl out of the skies. Permission to come home?"

[Harrier-307: Solstice] As the heat signatures like up her screen, Shakes then reports. "Three contacts on board lighting up my screen." She intones. Her gaze peels away to look at her pilot upon hearing the request. A brow lifts. "Where did they go?" She asks the rhetoric question that will hopefully be answered.

[TAC3] "Scoop" Sawyer erms, "Actual -and- Three-oh-Seven. Sorry, I don't know our Raptor number, so don't blast us on account of that either. I have Tyr Bannik with me and…an old friend of the fleet. This is better discussed on the ground. Specialist Bannik is a little airsick, and if you don't mind, it's been a long trip."

[TAC3] Cora says, "Harrier 307, Cerberus Actual. Results of that thermal scan?"

[TAC3] "Sweet Pea" Leyla says, "Cerberus Actual, can you switch to a secure channel?"

[Harrier-670: McQueen] Meanwhile, that Raptor remains patiently parked as the comm chatter goes back and forth. Nothing worthwhile to note, really. Inside the Raptor: "I don't supposed I should put on that ridiculous accent of his and start going 'bloody' this and 'shiteboat' that." the Eleven observes, dryly. She looks towards Sawyer. "Should we be honest, you think? They wouldn't shoot us down anyway if they were. I'm pretty sure they want intel." She glances at her passangers for prompting.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt. Hopefully they wouldn't leave me out here to rot." Sawyer gives a nervous laugh as she leans over the console again to speak, commenting first, "What's the return policy on this Raptor?"

"Well. We filled up the tank." Sarah's sarcastic tone is gentle. Apparently this one can at least grasp the concept of humor. After Sawyer spills the beans, she reaches for the comms herself.

[TAC4] "Shakes" Solstice says, "Cerberus Actual, Harrier-307. We have picked up three signs on the scan. Repeat three signatures."

[TAC4] "Sweet Pea" Leyla says, "I am, however, wary of the fact that they do not identify LT McQueen as being one of the passengers. And 'an old friend of the fleet' is terribly vague. I can order them to power down and tow them back to the ship. It would allow us better reaction time, if they have anything planned for the Cerberus."

[TAC3] "Scoop" Sawyer says, "Cerberus Actual. That won't be necessary. Sitting in the Pilot's seat is Sarah. Although I believe you know her only by a number. Eleven. Sorry, I know you guys are just being cautious. I don't blame you so we'll just…sit tight. Out here." A pause. "Please don't shoot.""

[TAC3] Cora says, "Harrier-307, Cerberus Actual. As this is one of our own Raptors, they have access to all the same frequencies we do. Copy those results. Sawyer, you are going to have a lot of explaining to do. Power down and 307 will tow you in."

[TAC3] (from "Queenie" McQueen) A mid-pitch female voice, vaguely familiar to some comes across the Raptor's comm channel. "Battlestar Cerberus. I figured adopting a certain someone's ridiculous Leonitian accent would make me sound ridiculous and probably make you all a little angry. I know /I/ would be. So — honesty is the best policy here. I'm merely fulfilling a promise and bringing your people back. Safe. With no strings attached. We will comply with your orders and power down our engines. Please be gentle with my passengers - they /were/ promised safe passage. Harrier-670 out."

[TAC3] (from "Queenie" McQueen) As the channel is turned off, one can hear the woman faintly chuckling. Or maybe it's just interference.

[TAC3] "Sweet Pea" Leyla says, "Cerberus Actual, our other option is to have them vent their atmosphere and we can board them and bring the people back."

[Harrier-670: McQueen] The Raptor's engines have compliantly powered down as the vessel waits. Inside the Raptor:
Sawyer sits back in her seat, "They're going to shoot us." Sawyer says with some finality, pressing both the heels of her palms into her temples.

"No. Have faith. Faith and reason both have taken us this far. God's not this fickle, Ms. Averies." Sarah suddenly states, smiling a tight, but almost kind smile.

[TAC3] "Queenie" McQueen .The woman's voice cuts in again, unbidden this time. "Cerberus. I respectfully would like to offer that it would be sad irony for you to kill your own people while we have kept them safe. While I always wondered what vacuum exposure would be like, they are currently not — equipped for this. Also, while you're pondering the best way to do this, if we really wanted to do something to you we could have brought a couple Basestars from Gemenon while you were busy fighting that unholy ship of death to 'finish the job'. That isn't our intention here. Plus, this is a nice Raptor."

[TAC3] Cora says, "Copy that, Sweet Pea. I prefer your towing idea. Please bring them back to the barn once you've confirmed systems shutdown."

[Harrier-307: Solstice] Remaining silent during the exchange over the com, Solstice shifts, obviously not comfortable with what is happening. She has learned to at least understand how Sweet Pea thinks and knows the woman is thinking quite the same. Clearing her throat, Shakes finally speaks up. "Readying tow..whenever you feel it is time, Sweet Pea." She says rather blandly and none too committedly either.

[Harrier-307: Leyla] Harrier-307 does move in to approach the other raptor, coming within grappling distance. "Shakes, prepare the tow cables. And if that woman," she's not specific about which female humanoid that might be, "says one more word, I am punching her right in the mouth the minute my boots hit the ground." As the raptor powers down, Leyla swings Bertha around to prepare for grappling. "Realign all weapons to target the raptor. If they give any indication of causing us trouble, release the tow cable." She doesn't bother continuing the thought. Shakes would get it.

[TAC3] "Sweet Pea" Leyla says, "Cerberus Actual, 307. We are preparing to grapple 670. Are we clear to go weapons free if it becomes necessary?"

[TAC3] Cora says, "307, Cerberus Actual. You are not cleared to go weapons free at this time. If the situation changes you sing out."

[TAC3] "Sweet Pea" Leyla says, "Copy receipt of message, Cerberus Actual."

[Harrier-670: McQueen] And the returned Raptor - it doesn't do /nothin'/. No way. Harrier 670 is a good little powered down soldier, just sitting there in the vacuum of space. As the others approach it, the dim lights of the cockpit can be seen and there are several figures inside. The most visible one is clad in some kind of tight-fitting black outfit with a black helmet obscuring its face. Inside the Raptor:
Sawyer sinks further down into her chair, "You might want to put your helmet back on. Just in case." She mutters from behind her faceplate, sitting quiet through that little fib by the Eleven. Whatever gets her back on home turf faster.

Whether or not she believes them, Sarah secures her helmet again, looking a bit — weary, at Sawyer's suggestion. "No. You're right. I've been meditating to learn patience." She then complies and just — waits.

"Well, when you figure out that trick, maybe you'll have to show me. I'm not the most patient person in the world, and besides…I forgot to pee before we left Gemenon." Sawyer is quiet while they work through getting the tow line settled, but it's clear she's nervous.

Again, the Eleven chuckles at Sawyer's comment. "Yes. We'll you'll get your chance." She fiddles with her helmet and again removes it. "I'd better take this off. I hate them. I'm not afraid." Of course — she doesn't really have reason to be. "Besides - people with masks cannot be trusted, as they say?" Oh, this one. She's a joker. "You allright back there?" To Bannik. Bannik's helmeted form nods.

[Harrier-307: Solstice] Shakes needs no prompting and getting the lines ready, she is then to realigning the guns. She doesn't ask questions, her own honey gaze showing some hesitation. "There could be a bomb for all we know, Sweet Pea…this could all be just a ploy." She breathes in and out. "Voices can be imitated.." And with that Cylon on board, the ECO is not feeling the need to feel accepting. She swallows, feeling a little more secure now that weapons are focused and she is waiting to get closer. Those tow lines though are something she wants to release and just say 'whoops missed'.

[Harrier-307: Leyla] Sweet Pea doesn't waste much time, as she swings Bertha around into position, flicking up the controls that will loose the grappling cables. perhaps unfortunately for Shakes, the controls for the tow lines are actually routed to the pilot first, the ECO station second. A quick press of her thumb, once the raptor is properly aligned in her HUD, and the cables shoot out from Bertha's belly, clamping down on the top of the 670. No way is she towing back a ship that's pointed nose first at her own. As soon as the 670 is secure, it's onward and upward back towards the Cerberus.

[TAC3] "Sweet Pea" Leyla says, "Cerberus Actual, we are RTB with 670 in tow."

[TAC3] Cora says, "Copy that, 307. Personnel standing by on deck for landing."

[Harrier-670: McQueen] And the hook attaches to the adrift Raptor without a hitch. A 'Thunk' occurs inside it as it slowly starts to get pulled along towards the ever-growing maw of Cerberus' hangar. Its home.
Inside the Raptor: "Well. Here goes nothing. For what it's worth, Sarah? Good luck." Sawyer unbuckles herself once they've finished their tow in to the Cerberus, reaching a hand over head to prop herself on the bulkhead as she eases up from her seat.

"Don't Worry." The Eleven calmly repeats to her, smiling faintly.

[Harrier-307: Leyla] "I know, Shakes. That's why I don't give a good godsdamn. I'll gladly spend the rest of my life in the brig than knowingly allow something to happen to the Cerberus." But the raptor continues, Bertha chugging along, her viper complement in tow, as she eats up the distance between herself and the big battlestar. Isn't it always the way that the trip away always seems so much longer than the trip home again? Soon enough, the two raptors are settling onto the flight deck. Well, the 307 settles, the 670, being underpowered, sort of thumps down.

[Harrier-307: Solstice] "Well, not much we can say or do. Command gets what it wants. Just pray that we are wrong in our caution." She watches the other Raptor on her DRADIS, staring at the heat signatures and the readouts. She draws a very slow breath, nervous to say the least as they move closer to the Cerberus, perhaps prepared for the worse. Her gaze lifts to the growning figure of the Battlestar, gaze narrowing.

[From Harrier-670:] "Well. Here goes nothing. For what it's worth, Sarah? Good luck." Sawyer unbuckles herself once they've finished their tow in to the Cerberus, reaching a hand over head to prop herself on the bulkhead as she eases up from her seat.

Leyla is already opening up the hatch, as 307 and the 670 are being lifted up from the flight deck to the hangar bay. Though she doesn't step down from the raptor just yet, she's already at the door, sidearm drawn, all of her attention fixed on the raptor she and Shakes towed in. It might be pertinent to note that every weapon on Bertha's spaceframe is trained on the powered down raptor they brought in.

When Leyla and Solstice came in for a landing, their Raptor's contact with the deck was shortly followed by the flapping of a tow cable, followed by the hard /thunk/ of a depowered, but otherwise-intact Colonial Raptor, bearing the serial number matching the designation of Harrier-670. Sparks fly from the deck as it is dragged until it comes to a stop. The Raptor remains still, although there is a bit of stirring inside. The cockpit's interior can be seen. A de-helmeted figure now, of a short-haired brunette, her hair cut in a neat bob. Anyone who /would/ recognize her would clearly point her out as a Cylon Humanoid Model Eleven. She is wearing some sort of skin-tight black suit, aerodynamic and probably pressurized. It's got some kickass elbow and shoulder pads, too. She sits patiently in the cockpit, glancing out at the deck inquisitively.

Perhaps not as quick to pull out her sidearm, Solstice has her own worries. The holster is opened and ready and she is right behind Leyla, perching at the opening as she looks past the taller woman towards the other Raptor. This professed Cylon is not known by her but the ECO is watching carefully and her hand strays to the sidearm, resting her hand upon it in tense readiness. Her gaze flicks up to Leyla and then steps out onto their wing, watching for the exit of those on board and staring at the pilot within - that who she doesn't recognize at all. Her blood runs cold.

Cidra makes her way onto the hangar deck, expression grim. She must have heard the Raptor(s) had returned. With their unexpected cargo. She's just in time to see the craft's doors open and has a distant view of those exiting.

Sofia is here, taking care of requisitions, rolling a toolchest to some lucky knuckledragger. She seems to be in a decent, slightly sad mood. But the arrival of Raptors - what's going on? Sofia turns her head, to try to see who's there? The Marines and deckies are a sight too. Her eyes widen and she takes in a sharp breath. Miss Eleven! Do they recognize - Her jaw drops. She hides her expression, but looks cross-eyed and comical. Wait, could it be? Is it? She holds her further reaction, watching. She does smile briefly at Cid, but only for a second. Serious business. Cylon. Rawr.

Hell, yeah. Lady's smile is nothing less than predatory as 670's door opens. One could be forgiven for assuming that she's all but waiting for an excuse to put a few into the skinjob, sidearm readied as she scuttles for the Raptor's hatch along with the rest of the welcoming committee.

"MPs, guard the prisoners." Because until someone tells Leyla otherwise, that's exactly what they are, for all that two of them once belonged to the Cerberus. "DC team, as soon as the raptor is clear, I want a complete sweep of its entire system. I want everything pulled and a full security sweep done of every last inch of it. Lance Corporal," that would be Lady, "The ship and its crew are yours."

Wade is around too, but unlike the others, his sidearm is not pointing at that Raptor, as a matter of fact, his sidearm is still safely secured in it's holster. He is wearing his officer blues along with his arm sling. The man walks closer to Cidra but says nothing to the woman, just looking at the Raptor and everyone that steps outside from it.

Perhaps she heard that the Raptors were coming in. Perhaps she hadn't. One way or the other, the electrical engineer that is Gallagher is arriving in the hanger with a hefty looking toolkit in hand. As she arrives, she notices the Raptors coming in, and a whole big curfuffle seems to be happening. She slows her pace, but makes a slight approach to the area. Can't blame her for being curious, can you?

Apparently the threat of being vented to space went to the heart of the first slight figure that steps into the void the open side hatch of Harrier-670 has created, because their helmet is still on. At the sight of just about every gun in the barn drawn and pointed in their direction, the black flight suit clad figure hesitates. It's a slow pantomime of movements that follows: First, two palms are shown to the gathered crowd and then one hand points up. Gradually, both hands lift - no sudden movements - towards the helmet. There is a jerk of arms as the hard seal is broken, and then the black helmet is being lifted off with both hands to reveal a tumble of wavy blonde hair. Sawyer. "I need to speak with the ranking officer before I can step down off the Raptor."

Another figure is waiting patiently back in the Raptor, watching Sawyer as she speaks. Male, by the looks of it, also in one of those suits. His arms reach up and the helmet comes off, to reveal the form of one messy-haired Specialist Tyr Bannik, eyes wide. He doesn't speak immediately, merely glancing to Sawyer.

Lady gives Leyla a short nod, and, sidearm in both hands, she takes up her post by the side of 670's hatch, lifting up her voice in a low, rough bark, needlessly masculinized in tone. "Down on the deck, one at a time. The toaster first," she calls. This is not an option. "Face down on the deck with its hands behind its head."

Thankful for the marines, Solstice has her own gun finally off safety and pointed at the floor, standing at ready on her wing. "It seems we might have been tricked…so far everyone has suits.." She remarks, narrowing her gaze at the figure asking to speak to the person in charge. Letting out a long breath, the JG shifts upon her feet. She is slowly moving along her wing, carefully and practiced. She hadn't had to use her sidearm since Tauron and it's showing some in the way she slides off the wing.

Meanwhile, the Eleven remains still, curious, catlike, her eyes blinking a bit out the Raptor's windscreen. She's clearly not making any sudden moves.

For Sawyer, Lady adds, "You're coming into custody. Whatever talking you have to do can get done on deck six." It's only a maximum of restraint that causes that sentence not to be punctuated with the word, 'betch.' "The Toaster," she reiterates. "Face down on the deck. Hands behind its head."

"She's -" Sofia puts her hand over her mouth. Best not to protest, but it's wrenching her heart just a bit. She steps back then, quiet and enjoying her good viewpoint. She looks to Gallagher, grateful she's not the only curious one. She tries to watch the Eleven most of all. Does she remember Sofia? For now, she's just watching, trying to stifle her expressions. She looks pained though.

Leyla steps down from the wing of her beloved raptor, moving to approach where the passengers of 670 are gathering, well, at least moving around the ship, not following the Marine LC's orders. "You allowed my flight and this ship's command to be lied to, Averies. By colluding with the enemy, I suppose you have showed your quality at last. Now, the three of you can come out of this raptor under your own power, or the Marines can use whatever force they deem necessary to bring you out. I assure you, the Lance Corporal is not the gentlest of women." She saw her kick ass and take names…for the grave markers on the Areion, yo. Lady is boss.

Cidra strides forth to the Raptor, though she still keeps out of the way of the MPs and their cargo. "Sweet Pea. Shakes. Captain Nikephoros in CIC has told me you have brought back much of interest." Not that she asks for a report here and now, arms folding across her chest as she watches Sawyer, and Bannik, both still aboard the Raptor. There's a look of expectancy about her, though otherwise her expression remains inscrutable and grim.

Ever sticking with Sweet Pea, Shakes gives a look to the CAG and a nod, "We were ordered to tow them in, but that may not have been wise. Might want to bring in a team to make sure there isn't any bombs or other hidden items." She suggests. But the ECO does not leave Leyla, no the Raptor crew does not part. The both of them did not have a good feeling and with all wearing pressurized suits, it was a lie. Her gaze narrows but the gun is pointed to the floor at an angle, hands cupping it as if in practiced understanding of what she holds. "I can't believe.." Her gaze flicks up to the woman sitting in the cockpit, studying her face for the moment - untrusting.

And Wade does approach the Raptor as well, keeping a calm look to him as he does so. His attention moves to Leyla and he nods to her "Sweet Pea" then looks at Solstice "Shakes" and then at Lady, offering yet another nod but no words to the aggressive looking lady. "Sawyer…" finally says Wade, looking at the blonde reporter and he tilts his head now, peering through the windshield of the Raptor. "Had an interesting trip I see"

The Eleven has her arms resting on the console momentarily until Lady barks her orders. She slowly rises, gently patting her mouth with her hand and then letting it fall before complying. "Cairn takes full responsibility. As do I." She murmurs.

And by complying, she gets down on the floor of the Raptor.

<FS3> Solstice rolls Alertness: Failure.
<FS3> Lady rolls Alertness: Good Success.
<FS3> Wade rolls Alertness: Success.

Making a b-line to Sofia, Gallagher watches the events with a glint of curiosity. Leaning in, she whispers to Sofia, "What's going on?" As if she expects the other woman to know. She can gather somewhat from what's been said, but she hopes that other people can shed a tad bit more light on the situation for her. Maybe.

<FS3> Leyla rolls Alertness: Good Success.

"I'm going to put my helmet down," Sawyer warns, just in case anyone has a itchy trigger finger. She slowly bends, settling her helmet down by her feet, but she doesn't seem intent on getting down on her belly just yet. "I'll gladly come into custody. Gladly. I just want to know what the standing order is about the Eleven before I convince her to come out. I didn't collude anything. Before I could clarify, Cerberus Actual gave order for us to be towed instead of just vented. The Eleven was staying true to her word, and was attempting to protect us, as I'm not sure how I would have faired when forced to do a space walk." Ears catch Cidra's voice, eyes search for her, almost pleadingly. "I just want to know if the Eleven is to be shot on sight. That's all. Then you can whisk me away and lock me up. My conscience will be clear, but that's the least I owe her for the ride home."

<FS3> Sofia rolls Alertness: Good Success.

Sofia whispers, and points out, "That's Miss Eleven, a skinjob Cylon." She murmurs. It's just enough for Gallagher to hear. She seems almost … happy to see Eleven but is stifling it. It looks like she's having a hard time, and pained for it. She takes a deep breath. Wait. She squints, now worried.

"Toast." Leyla doesn't elaborate. Cidra can see what's been brought back. "You are in no position to make any demands or demand any answers, from anyone, Averies." Leyla doesn't even bother giving her the respect of a Ms. "And until Major Hahn assumes command of this detail, as the next ranking officer," Wade has more time in service, but Leyla has more time in rank, "And as the current SL of the Harriers, I am the ranking officer on this deck. You've spoken to me, now do as you're told. And tell that skinjob to spit out whatever she just put in her mouth. I will not ask again. On either count."

Lady's eyes narrow at the cylon's gesture, and then, after a split second's parsing, her nostrils flare and she briskly jumps up into the Raptor, planting a knee in the skinjob's back and endeavoring to grab a handful of her hair, pulling her head back, "Spit it out, betch!" she growls, near to frothing at the mouth as she shakes the woman's head. "Get down! Both of you, get the frak down!" is for Sawyer and Bannik.

Bannik just looks anxious, confused, looking around, "But —" He gets out this one single word before shutting up. He finally does exactly as ordered, getting down.

Marko gets wind of what's going on down on the hangar from up in CIC, where he's spent the last day or so helping out with system checks after Rejn's uber-hack. Winded, he makes it through the hatch just in time to hear Leyla's orders and spot Sawyer as well as what is obviously a Cylon along with what looks like a very awkward welcoming party.

Wade turns his head to look at Lady's reaction and just shakes his head "I honestly don't see why that use of force is necessary at this point. However, she is definitely hiding something there…" He clears his throat for a moment and looks at Cidra "She could be holding valuable intel, Major…the worst you treat them, they can lock whatever knowledge they have" He takes a deep breath but does still look to be rather calm and collected, just running his fingers over his chin at the moment.

Gallagher blinks and looks up. "Really? Wow…" She whispers back. Her eyes go wide as she watches the events unfold. Seems like the Deck is the place where the excitement happens. Not that it's good excitement, but it's something.

"The Eleven shall be taken into custody. Command wants it *alive*," is Cidra's grim reply to Sawyer. It has an edge of an order to it, for anyone else listening who might get trigger-happy. If she feels any relief at seeing the reporter back alive, it's kept carefully in check for the moment. One hand idly drifts to her hip, but the CAG is not one for habitually wearing her sidearm, and she does not have it on her today. To Leyla she says simply, "I have assumed command, Sweet Pea."

A nod, that's all, at Cidra's words, and Sweet Pea, making absolutely no comment regarding Lady's treatment of the Cylon, back away towards Cidra's position, not taking her eyes off of the raptor and it's 'crew' for a second. She does, however, offer her sidearm to Cidra. Probably better that way, given how she's glaring at Averies. Well, to be fair, she's pretty much glaring at each of the three equally.

Sofia looks horrified, putting her hands over her mouth. Her eyes widen at the treatment of Eleven. Right, right, stifle it. Look rawr. She does her best to look distracted and nods at Gallagher. Her heart is definitely torn on this one. Deep, calming breaths. Think happy aquarian thoughts. "Yeah… we had some people missing," She murmurs.

The Cylon's eyes just roll upwards - the expression looks annoyed. "There's no need for alarm." "Seriously. We mean" CRUNCH. Well, whatever was in her mouth - "you no harm. And I knew this was…a. one..way…t" Even as she's on the ground, her head sags and her voice seizes into a harsh, disturbing croak. Now her eyes roll back in her head as she starts to slump more completely to the ground.

Sawyer whips her head around, looking to the Eleven. "What did you /do/? I was trying to help." She hisses through clenched teeth, dropping down like lead weight to her knees. Her shoulders slump, looking dejectedly to Cidra. "Major." It's as much of a thank you as it can be, because of what is going on behind her. Sawyer can't bear to look. As the journalist gets down on her stomach, she says simply. "I have a data disk. In the front left pocket of my pants under this flightsuit. You'll find it when you search me, it's for Command."

A look down at the gun, and a nod and quiet "Thank you" to Leyla. Cidra will take it. She even raises it, to point in the direction of the Cylon. Until it slumps to the ground. She gasps, turning sharply to Sofia. "Wolfe! Get Medical on wireless and summon a corpsman. Lance Corporal, what the devils just happened to it?" Sawyer shall have to wait, her attention entirely upon the Cylon just now.

"Oh, you CUNT," is Lady's final pronouncement on the heap of cylon meat she's sitting on top of, yanking back the thing's head one more time and taking out her frustration by slamming the thing's face into the Raptor plating. Once. Twice. Three times. The other marines are beckoned up into the bird to bind Sawyer's hands and Bannik's, and she picks her own self up, seething, and gives the corpse another swift kick in the head for its troubles.

No… Miss Eleven. Sofia was so close to seeing her again. She bites her lower lip, but anyone watching the snipe will notice the water building in her eyes. She blinks fast. Mustn't. Musn't. Mustn't. She blinks and nods. "Yes sir!" She will then start to work that wireless magic and get a Corpsman on up at the least. She gasps at how Lady treats Eleven. "I … I think even if she wasn't dead before, she is NOW," There's a glare sent at Lady. But it's stifled and hidden. "Just - wireless is being fussy -" She murmurs. Still, Sofia doesn't seem at all happy. Grumble.

"What the hell was all that about?" Marko asks, sidling up to Sofia, looking more than slightly bewildered. "She came all of this way just to off herself? What the hell good's that doing anybody?"

"I would imagine she just ate a suicide pill." There's a shrug from Leyla and an answer to Cidra. "She's probably downloading as we speak. It's not as if their bodies aren't a dime a dozen." Leyla so is not caring that the wicked wit—cylon is dead. "DC team, as soon as the marines give you the go-ahead, clear that raptor. And clear Bertha as well, would you? Just being close to that ship might have done something to her."

Wade's expression doesn't change after that display "Right…ok, so that was interesting." He clears his throat "Have Medical take the body to the morgue and prep her for autopsy?" He nods to his own words "Intel is intel…dead or alive" Now, he looks at Sawyer "Ah, a disk…" he looks up at the other ones there and he takes yet another deep breath, looking down at his bandaged hand "And someone call CIC, the disk needs to be checked on an unhooked station first"

"LANCE CORPORAL STAND DOWN!" Cidra near-bellows at Lady, voice echoing throughout the Deck. "Get off of it, now." A look to the other MPs. "Restrain her if she does comply." With a nod, likewise grim, Cidra offers Leyla back her sidearm. "Little doubt. I shall need to get on the horn to C-I-C once Wolfe has Medical on the way, for more than that disk. If that creature downloaded we cannot linger here. We should jump the Fleet to an alternate location as soon as possible."

Gallagher merely watches and shakes her head. It's weird to watch something like this take place, really. But then again, these aren't normal days. They haven't been for a while. Sighing and clearing her throat, she makes to approach those who seem to be in charge, holding her tool kit tightly in hand. "I'm Lieutenant Gallagher, engineering. Can I be of service at all?" It's better than standing around, doing nothing.

Lady is done. If you can call that done. She sort of rubs some of the blood from the thing's head that had gotten on her boot from the kick onto its coverall, and then is straightening her gear and cracking her neck from side to side, cooling down. Since two of the prisoners are going quietly and the third is dead, she holsters her sidearm and holds up both hands for Cidra, showing her she's finished, here. "Sweep the other ship and secure a perimeter around both of them for decontamination," she tells those of the marines still outside the boat.

Sofia just looks pained and sad. There's a look towards Sawyer. For now, she just makes sure to get Medical on the wire. And talk to them. It's a distraction. She just kind of eyes Lady again. She avoids looking though, glancing down. But she's frowning, definitely unhappy.

With Cidra taking care of the Marine…situation…Leyla turns to direct the members of the deck that are stepping up to board Bertha. And, as necessary, to muscle their way past the Marines to get onto the 670 to check it out. Just in case there is some sort of bomb or nastiness inside. You know, aside from the stench of Cylon. Okay, moving on. "Lieutenant, take control of the DC team going over the 670. I need every inch of it searched and the ship cleared of any possible sabotage or anything which might threaten this ship."

Marko frowns and strolls over to Leyla. "Eh, hey Sweet Pea." he calls, giving her a quick wave. "Major." adds, nodding a polite acknowledgement to Cidra. "Um, not to be impertinent or flippant, but…can someone please tell me what in the name of Zeus' fuzzy bunghole is going on ?"

Bannik, for his part, is meekly complying, if looking a little shocked.

"Do *NOT* touch it," Cidra orders the Marines around the Eleven's body tersely. "Do nothing to meddle with it until Medical sees to it." As Leyla has the Raptors in hand, Cidra goes to stand over the body of the Eleven. Looking down at it, expression unreadable. "Flasher." Alto tone a touch harder than normal as she answers Marko, though it doesn't seem aimed at him. "Lieutenant Aydin and Lieutenant Vasco retrieved that Raptor Queeniee…" She clears her throat. "Lieutenant McQueen, Sawyer Averies and Tyr Bannik absconded with during our fight with the Areion. They retrieved it, with this aboard." She gestures to the body of the dark-haired 'woman' on the deck floor. Which Marko would likely recognize as a copy of the Cylon known as Model Eleven. "The rest, I await a full report on. With great interest."

Once the other two Marines aboard 670 have Sawyer and Bannik zipcuffed and searched, they 'help' the pair of them up to their feet (though their 'help' is actually more substantially like actual help than anything that needs scare quotes) and down out of the bird, thence across the deck and to the stairs.

Sawyer doesn't move as she's cuffed, her only warning was of the disk in her pocket so it doesn't get ruined in the scuffle. The blonde no longer tries to reach out to anyone verbally, just silently complying to any orders given. It's been a long six days, and things don't exactly seem like they're looking up. Off she is marched.

"Flasher. Let me explain. No, that would take too long. Let me sum up. McQueen stole a raptor, and —" And then Cidra gives the quick and dirty explanation and all is well. "She wasn't dead when she got here, but McQueen is not with them. It apparently decided to off itself. You know, because that's clearly the way to generate trust and goodwill. So…here we are."

And Lady duly jumps down, leaving her own prize behind, and though she glowers to have let the damned thing slip through her fingers, she's flush, no less, with the glow of a little bit of the old ultra-violence as she joins rank with the others to protect the perimeter while the techies do their thang.

"We'll get on it as soon as we can. I'll make sure that no panel of the ship is left unchecked." Gallagher responds to Leyla. She watches as the two people are brought off the ship she and her team mean to scour. "Well, I hope that means that we can start our work now. We'll wanna get starting on it immediately if we want to make sure that there's nothing on the ship that can cause any problems to us in the short or long run."

"Oh shit…" Marko breathes, looking back and forth between the dead skinjob and the duo now being led off by the Marines to Gods only know what fate. "You don't think they were stupid enough to go to Gemenon, do you?" he asks either of them, eyes going wide. "Godsdamn….I think Toast is right, an emergency jump out of here's the smartest course of action until we know more about what's going on."

Responding to the call on the wireless with the word 'dead' and the word 'cylon' used in tandem, Dr. Megan Amosi makes her way to the hangar deck in a reasonable amount of time, and only back tracking once en route for having gone the wrong direction for one section before figuring it out and doubling back. The white of her lab coat, which still has the newly minted look of someone newly assigned, helps identify her once she arrives and she moves forward with noticeable caution, trying to determine who exactly it is to report to.

Sofia might pause to glare at Lady every so often, a bit disgusted but stifling it and looking almost like she's trying to clear her nose or throat without making her noise. She sighs. "Once medical's here, I guess it's back to doling out supplies," She murmurs. She squints. She frowns and checks her clipboard once more. A look to Marko. "Wish I could tell you…" She murmurs. "S-sorry, I'm feeling a bit out of sorts. Seeing everyone - and all this. I think I'll get some sleeping pills from medbay later," Sofia is definitely rattled. She nods. Deep breath. "Just out of sorts." Right. She's had her locker set on fire ONCE. She's not too eager to have it done again. She waves at the doctor. "Ma'am! Over here!"

Cidra's gaze follows Sawyer, but the reporter she will deal with later. Another look to Leyla. "Sweet Pea, did Averies, Bannik or…the Eleven give you any information as to the whereabouts of Lieutenant McQueen?" Despite her best efforts, there is a touch of concern in her voice for her wayward pilot. While she waits for a reply, she steps back a touch from the Eleven's body, to give Megan room to enter the scene. "Doctor. This way!" A hand is raised to beckon.

"At this point, I really don't give a damn. What I do give a damn about, is trying to figure out why I didn't kill Averies as soon as I got a good bead on her. She lied, Flasher. She colluded with the enemy. She actually tried to 'bargain' for its life. She deserves worse than any amount of time in the brig. And Boots' poor widdle feelings be damned. She's a frakkin traitor. Bannick…well, we'll figure that out as we go. I couldn't get a read on whether or not he was a prisoner or a collaborator." Finally, Leyla settles her sidearm back into her holster. A glance back to Cidra, "They made no mention of him whatsoever. I'm sorry, Sir."

The ah-hah! moment is almost evident upon Megan's expression as she alters course accordingly and aims for the specialist waving in her direction through the line of deck personnel and lieutenants arrayed around the body of a dark haired woman. 'Woman' being a subjective term, that is. "Sorry, got a bit turned around," she admits in a low voice as she gets near enough to speak and eyes the dead body on the deck with avid if wary interest. "This is.. this is..?"

"Eh, maybe we oughta find out what they thought they were doing before we start handing out arbitrary death sentences…" Marko comments simply. "Right now, we don't know much of anything at all."

"This is a copy of the Cylon Model Eleven, yes," Cidra tells the doctor flatly. "Can you tell how it died? The Marines were less than gentle with it, but nothing that should have resulted in *this*." To Leyla she simply nods, as to McQueen. Asking no more on him just now. "Quite so, Flasher. We know little right now, though I shall be most interested to hear the tale as Averies and Bannik relate it. This is fearful strangeness."

"Well, team, let's get going. We've got a job to do." Gallagher says to the DC team that she's been placed in charge of. Leading toward 670, she starts the work.

"That's what we said about the Areion, Flasher. And look how that turned out." Flasher, more than most, simply as a result of being her ECO and spending most of his days practically in Leyla's pocket, knows well how long and how often Leyla ranted about not being able to trust the spooks. "Trust seems to continually come around to bite us on the ass." That said, Leyla steps away, to allow the DC teams to go over her Bertha with a fine tooth comb.

"No, but maybe we oughta give trusting _ourselves_ a shot." Marko replies quietly as Leyla moves off. "Because whatever it is we're into now, we've crossed the point where there's easy answers." he sighs, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "And the last quick-fix we tried nearly got us all killed." he notes, more for Cidra's benefit than Leyla's.

Sofia has returned to quietly doing requisitions, though she'll help the DC team for a bit. She takes a deep breath and sighs softly.

"That," Megan begins aloud in a cautious tone of voice, "is a really good question, Major." She moves forward again, pulling a pair of gloves out of the field kit she's carrying and stepping carefully around the body to complete a visual 360 before she crouches beside it and uses her fingertips to manipulate the head from side to side, checking some obvious points. She uses one thumb to push the eyelids back and checks each optical orb, quelling the twitch of distaste thread makes her hands shake briefly. "How long has it been dead?" is asked even as she's opening the kit she brought with, considering it's contents with a pensive look.

"Scarce minutes before you were called," Cidra replies to Megan. "It was being restrained when it…stiffened. As you see it now. The Lance Corporal abused its body some, as you can see from its face, but it seemed gone by that point. Doctor, as this is a skinjob, if you could work with Lieutenant Gallagher…" A gesture to the leader of the damage control team. "…of Engineering on its autopsy, please? While we have found little 'machine' about these things yet, one must always look."

Megan sits back on her heels after a moment and nods, "Certainly," she agrees aloud. "The human body, in and of itself when considered on par with a machine, is comparable in many ways. The sum of it's parts, when taken on a stand alone basis, may seem in incongruent if not illogical. But when completely assembled it is readily apparent the harmony in which the human body works together. Much like cogs and levers for a regular machine," she says aloud even as she's carefully continuing to examine the dead model. "From what I understand they're more resilient, have more tensile strength to draw upon and faster reflexes, that sort of thing. The Engineering side of these things," and perhaps at this point she's more talking to herself than not as she is again working her way around the body and if she manages to refrain from saying 'fascinating' in a vaguely horrified tone of voice, it's probably a good thing.

Appearing near the entrance to where the group has located around the Cylon, Gallagher tilts her head. "I've got the team working on finding anything that could be of danger to us." She reports. "It's too soon to say whether we'll find much of anything out of the ordinary, but I've got the team split up, and hopefully we'll know soon enough." She mutters, her attention being drawn by the cylon on the floor. "So…what's gonna be done with it?" She indicates the cylon with a nod of her head. "If I might ask, that is…"

Leyla turns away from her paperwork. That and the business of getting the CAP put back together, since she's obviously not going back up again anytime soon, "It'll be autopsied. Major Hahn," a hand indicating the stately Gemenese CAG, "Has assigned yourself and the good Doctor there, to handle that." Surprise! "All cylon autopsies are conducted by both a medical doctor and an Engineering Officer."

Cidra's brows arch at Megan's fascination with the skinjob, but her only response is a low. "Ah." Another nod from her to Megan and Gallagher both. "Do as you will with the body. I shall let Captain Cora Nikephoros know it is has been taken for autopsy. She will be most interested in the findings. If you will pardon, I should get on the wireless to C-I-C. We shall need to undertake jump preparations A-S-A-P. We must assume that creature resurrected and that our position will be compromised."

Megan nods as she rises to her feet, snagging her field kit as she stands, "We need to move it to be properly autopsied, dissected that is for further examination. I don't imaging that doing this on the deck floor is really the ideal location. Fast and messy but not entirely informative in the long run," she amends. She nods to the engineer identified as Gallagher, "Where exactly is it that we can take the body?"

"Major." Marko says, drawing himself up to attention. "With your permission, sir, I'd like to be read into the autopsies." he requests formally. "With Rejn dead, and now this one, we have zero understanding of their mind-machine interface technology. I would like to be a part of that team."

"Doing an autopsy? On the body?" Well, Gallagher never thought she'd see the day that she'd be doing an autopsy. But hey, such is life. "Right. Well, I'll finish up here soon enough." She nods. Looking to Megan, she shrugs. "Well, I suppose you'd be the one with the right kinda facilities. Engineering's not exactly equipped for autopsies." She says with a shrug.

"The morgue. for storage. Most of the research work is being done in Biomed." But at Cidra's comment, Leyla turns her head. "Toast. We jumped after the Areion. How did they find us here?" That shouldn't have been possible. "There's no way they could have tracked us through that jump." But she leaves it at that, as she understands the press for time, "I'll rework a Double CAP and have a second set of alert vipers readied in the tubes." Stuff that can be worked out easily enough with the LSO and Broadside.

"I shall have to speak to Captain Makinen in Engineering, as that is not a matter over which the Air Wing has privy," Cidra replies to Marko. "But for my part, if you do wish to have a look at the results I see no harm, and I do know Captain Nikephoros values your skills in that area. I shall let them both you know you are available to offer your services, Flasher. As your duties in the Wing permit. Though I would not honestly get much hope up. Our doctors found little difference in the body of the Six than of that of any human. Still, one can hope. To Leyla she replies, "We shall need to recall even the present CAP before we jump, but it would be prudent to maintain double presence for twenty-four hours after we reach our new position. Go to it." And with that, she does go to get on the horn to CIC.

With the members of medical and engineering on task, and the DC teams at work, not to mention the Air Wing and their CAG prepping for the hard hours to come, the deck slowly, but not necessarily surely returns to its usual routine. Even if the night's events have left everyone with more questions than answers.

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