PHD #490: EVENT - Article 106a
Article 106a
Summary: Marines visit the CIC unannounced to effect a detainment.
Date: 01 Jul 2042 AE
Related Logs: To be posted soon
Ciro Constin Khloe Madilyn North Sofia Vandenberg 
Deck 7 - CIC
The central nexus of the ship, the fighting capability all stems from here. With entrances on both sides, an entire section of the wall will twist its armored glass and doorframes out of an air locked position and allow access. At the rear of the room is a standard hatch that allows access as well. Computer terminals sit in a semi-circle around the main plotting table in the center of the room. DRADIS and other essential readouts are displayed on screens that hang from the ceiling. Forward and aft are a set of glass plots that hang vertically from the ceiling and provide the crew with the ability to coordinate air traffic operations in the easiest way possible.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear
Post-Holocaust Day: #490

Ever since the most recent FTL jump several days ago, business in CIC has been rote and repetitive. Officers come on duty, run frequent DRADIS sweeps, oversee the status of patrol Vipers, monitor communications between the other ships of the Battlegroup, and three times per day the shift of marines on guard changes. Day in, day out, and all is as it should be. Today's routine is livened by the regularly scheduled highlight of a department review meeting, which has brought several of the ship's higher officers together around the big glowing table. Commander Pewter presently wields the prized model moving stick.

Khloe Vakos, dressed in her duty blues, uniform pressed and buttons and boots polished, stands at the ready nearby. Normally it's the CAG who has the benefit of sitting in on departmental meetings such as these, but with LCOL Hahn otherwise indisposed, it falls to Poppy. But you'd never see the Captain complain or so much as utter one discouraged sound - this is part of the uniform. Arms alternating between resting at her sides (with her hand resting comfortably on her holstered and buttoned sidearm) or folding across her chest, stoic Viper jock is stoic.

Wires, wires, wires. DRADIS needs love sometimes too right? Sofia might be watched while she works, but she's mostly tending to and making sure everything is happy and calibrated. She's largely in the background, trying not to cause any bother for the moment, although she might peer over curiously. A glowtable huh? Hmm. The world of officers is strange and a bit frightening. Actually, she's kneeling by the terminal Yeoman Parry is at and looking apologetic. Her face is a bit red.

The glowing table, ship models, and various maps of regions of space are more for Khloe's benefit than her own, but Madilyn's there nonetheless. Security of the fleet in space, then the security of the ship itself, and everyone's there to report all the details to Pewter in the the brain of the ship. She leans against the table with the palms of her hands propped up on the edge of it, watching and listening, nodding where appropriate.

"Less they're gettin' twitchier than a field mouse what had to eat its way outta a coffee tin, think we can maintain this here pattern awhile longer," Pewter is drawling with an easy smile as he adjusts his glasses and nods to Deidre at the control panel. "Bring up the next image, will ya, Red?"

The predictable comfort of routine recieves its first break in quite some time as- less than an hour after the last change of watch for the CIC guards, the hatch opens to allow entry to a fresh quintet of marines in combat blacks. First through the door is Constin, who exchanges a quiet word with the guard standing nearest the door. Behind him enter two marines with tazers in hand, behind those being two more with rifles.

The entry is quick and professional, the first announcement that many in the CIC would even have of their entry is Elf's level voice instructing Deidre Parry, "Yeoman, step away from the console."

Entering behind Constin and among the arrest detail is one readily identifiable person. If not by her height, most definitely her scarred face when she comes into view. Vandenberg already has her pistol-shaped tazer low, out of the holster, and ready when she moves through the door. The woman is dressed in her combat blacks with her helmet pushed low on her forehead. She might have technical rank of Constin, but when it comes to ship security, its his lead. Natalie, being on of the Marines with a tazer, steps around in an arc to surround Parry while making sure there isn't anyone directly beyond her target though her eyes flick to Khloe and then back to the Yeoman. She stays deathly silent.

Khloe isn't quick to react when Constin and the MPs come into CIC, looking to arrest someone. Her gaze just calmly moves from Constin and his bark, to the target of their arrest, and then finally looking to Pewter. There's a subtle twitch in her right hand as it rests at her hip, and slowly the Viper Captain goes back to folding her arms across her chest. This doesn't involve her, but she's watching Pewter like a hawk.

Uh oh. Sofia blinks. When the Marines come in groups, stuff goes down. She's figured that out by now at least, her green eyes widen. Suddenly she feels a bit awkward working at the console the Yeoman was at. She's frozen in place. … should she step away too? Stay still? She is hedging her bets on 'stay still' while tazers are out and about.

The marines come barreling in and Madilyn brings herself to stand up straight and tall. This is all news to her, but she's not interfering, yet. Ship's security very much is Constin's detail, and thus, there has to be a reason for what's happening. Unlike Khloe, however, the twitch in her hand amounts to more than that, as she puts a hand on the butt of her sidearm, and unsnaps the holster.

The Commanding Officer of the Cerberus seems as surprised by the development as anyone else on his bridge, shifting his weight to turn a ponderous stare at the incoming marines. "Gunny," Commander Pewter frowns through his thick lensed glasses at the black-clad marine team as they sweep into the Command Center. "You mind tellin' me what y'all intend bustin' in on my CIC, without so much as a by-yo-leave?"

For her part, Parry- with red brows raised slightly at the brusque nature of the command- takes the ordered step back, composing the clipboard she carries in both hands as a questioning look goes from Constin to Pewter.

Captain Vandenberg, Marine S-Three, may have rank involved over Constin… but she is taking the idea of his current positions quite seriously. She does not appear to be making a move to answer for anyone. She's just a member of this ad hoc fireteam. The tazer is held low but her hard eyes drill holes in the side of Parry's face.

"Carrying out a detention under Article One-Oh-Six, subsection Ay, sir," Constin answers with prepared precision. The cited article is the section of the Code of Military Justice dealing with espionage and intelligence leaks. "You will recieve a full report ay-ess-ay-pea, sir. Yeoman Parry-" Constin voices, his narrow blue eyes having been fixed on the woman throughout his answer to Pewter. "You are hereby detained for questioning under Article One-Oh-Six dash Ay of the Uniform Code of Military Justice." With the words, the big marine takes a step closer and places a hand symbolically above Parry's right elbow, turning the Yeoman to face the hatchway out.

Taking up the position of rear guard, the tall, muscular form of Ciro Sondray keeps his rifle pointed towards the deck in a readied, yet stable position. In full blacks with gunbelt and kevlar vest, he maintains that certain, easy cool that he's known for. Impartial in facial expression, his eyes scan for signs of movement from the assembled bystanders before locking once again into place on Parry, waiting to see what the first move is going to be.

Sofia is just wide-eyed, slightly pale and still as a statue. She hasn't moved a centimeter since the Marines came in. It looks almost comical, her working on the console and now frozen. But again, tazers and rifles are out. Best not to do anything funny. She's just quiet, peering mostly at the Marines, perhaps curious.

Poppy's stoicism breaks in the form of her lip curling derisively. She takes a few steps closer around the command well towards Pewter, arms still crossed, but she's moving like a cat - or a Viper jock with catlike reflexes, maybe. She doesn't know what this is about, clearly, not being a marine - but she's not willing to take any chances.

Clad in blacks, Private North is on backup duty for Constin. She stays back a few yards, rifle pointed up and held across her chest. She mutters something under her breath about a "barrel of brassy fish," but it's barely above a whisper. Her eyes are locked on Parry and Constin. Mostly Parry.

Seeing Sofia close to everything, Madilyn decides to intervene. Moving slowly so that the other marines can see her, she crosses the CIC to the console where the action is happening. "Come on, they aren't talking about you. Get on back," Madilyn instructs Sofia, going so far as to grab her by the upper arm and pull her back beyond the arc of the marines training weapons on Perry. More room to work, and all that.

Pewter hears the answer without losing his frown- bad experiences with unexpected marines busting into meetings, after all- but doesn't take vocal issue with the procedure, apart from vocalizing, "I expect you will, at that," when promised a full report ASAP.

Parry's perpetual professionalism is strained ever so slightly as the big marine speaks and steps to effect her detainment. Shoulders rising with a slowly drawn breath she voices toward Pewter, "Sir, I may be unable to complete my assigned shift, today." The clipboard she held is handed over to the detaining marine.

The Master-at-Arms raises his free hand to the wireless to voice, "Hub, Constin. Coordinate clear passage en route from Cee-Eye-Cee to Deck Six officer's brig, cell four," before accepting the surrendered clipboard. Those with a keen ear for military protocol would note that Parry is not an officer.

Eep. Sofia doesn't seem to object to being grabbed or pulled back a little. She just wasn't going to move with the tazers out. "Yes sir," She nods and does move back a little out of the way. She feels quite like she's sunk into water way over her head. Still, at least she's not getting underfoot.

Vandenberg see's the clipboard lifted and up goes her tazer. Rather than pointed center of mass, she has it pointed at the side of the suspect's head. Some people 'effect detainment' in different ways and this is hers. "You want to keep moving cooperatively, Yeoman Parry. Now." Its said through her thick Canceran accent, eyes narrowed on her target. She quietly wonders about the officer's brig but.. ultimately says nothing. Elf is the MaA. Not her.

Sergeant Sondray keeps his eyes peeled on the exchange between Constin and Parry, keeping a close lock on the peripheral movement. It's an arrest warrant, and in any location there runs the risk of outside interference. His jaw tightens and his finger rests calmly over the outside of his rifle's trigger. With the call for the cleared passage to the officer's brig, he keeps in position but starts to visualize the route.

North's gaze slides off of Parry to MaA at the mention of the officer's brig, and she adjusts her grip on the rifle. It remains unpointed, but the brunette marine's stance also shifts. It's not what one might term uneasy, but there's a certain opposition to stillness in the brief movements. She steps back and to the side a few paces to open a hole to the door, so she and Sondray can once again bring up the rear of the procession of battle blacks.

Once Sofia's been maneuvered out of the way, but before the whole crew starts to move out the hatch, Madilyn gets close to Constin, so that a few low words can be exchanged. Only the closest marines would hear it, and Parry too, presumably. "I imagine there's a reason you're using the officer's brig, gunny? And that it pertains to the charges leveled against the petty officer?" It should be pretty common knowledge that at least two of the prisoners in the officer's brig aren't exactly of the human persuasion.

No sooner does the word 'four' pass Constin's lips than the nice orderly detention that had been underway hits a snag. Specifically, the hand by which Elf had guided Parry's steps is snagged, and in the blink of an eye (a human eye that is, cylons appear to process optical input much faster), Parry has turned away from the hatchway.

In the process, GSGT Constin- no small man- has been thrown bodily across the CIC, and Madilyn is talking to air. Fingers on triggers have an instant to act as Yeoman Deidre Parry turns back to the computer console, finding first Madilyn and then the recently removed Sofia between her and the object.

Vandenberg spends 1 luck points on Cap a hoe wit a tazer, yo.
<FS3> Vandenberg rolls Firearms: Failure. Result: Success
<FS3> Jenkins rolls 5: Success.
Madilyn spends 1 luck points on Messin' up Parry's FACE..
<FS3> Madilyn rolls Melee: Good Success. Result: Great Success

Elf.. flies? Holy sh-!!! "CLEAR!" Vandenberg barks before she pulls the trigger on the tazer pistol. That's the cue to refrain from touching the target lest thee be tazed on accident. In the flurry of movement like that, the Captain readjusts her aim and fires center of mass. The prongs sail out and stick to the back of her uniform. The 'CLACKCLACKCLACKCLACK' of electrical currents firing cannot possibly be missed. "ON THE GROUND!" Hopefully ParryBot won't have a choice.

As action explodes in CIC, Khloe mutters a quick, "Frak" and is quick to draw her sidearm and take up a defensive position in front of Pewter. "Sir, get down!" Comes Poppy's quick and direct… suggestion… to Gravel. Definitely not an order, but definitely in Khloe's "outside" voice.

… Sofia never thought she'd see the day Elf flies. "Oh frak." Her eyes are huge as plates. She decides to get the hell out of the way then, of the Marines and hopefully the Parry. She does seem concerned about seeing Elf fly like that. "Gunny?" She squirms away from Madilyn and Parry if she can.

As the moment of utter chaos begins, the sounds that fill the room are many. There's the clacking of taser leads. There's yelling. There's men bigger than Ciro flying through the air. The CIC is best described as a target rich environment, and any one of them or the precious consoles in the CIC pose an immediate problem if a bullet enters the wrong body. Ciro's words mix into the clatter as he starts to bark the obvious commands. Everyone should get down, clear out, stay the frak down, and should get the frak…away…from the console. He springs into position, guarding the exit while raising his rifle to try to get a clear shot.

It's almost too easy, the way the tazers stick into her - uniform and human flesh has that unfortunate side effect - and, being a little wary of drawing her sidearm and shooting in anything near the direction where people are standing, Madilyn does the quickest and next best thing she can: she clenches up a tight fist with her right hand and brings around a haymaker born out of all her inner-Cylon hate. It might be wild, but it connects right with her lower lip…which is a little more solid than it looks. The effect appears to be a busted lip, and Madilyn stepping back to reach for something more effective: her sidearm.

The second tazer bearing marine, skinny little PFC Jenkins, fires off his effort at subdual an instant after Vandenberg, the barbs piercing cloth and filling the air with a second crackle and refrain of 'CLACKCLACKCLACKCLACK'.

Parry screams with the first taze, stiffening, but not falling. Then the second sting strikes, and the woman begins to go limp, staggering forward, right into the marine CO's punch. The brilliant shade of ruby red lipstick the Yeoman favors trails blood from a split at her lower lip, as Deidre Parry- humanoid cylon model number Four- collapses motionless to the deck an instant behind several drops of her own blood.

Vandenberg stares at the crumbled, unmoving form as it falls to the deck. The Marine Captain takes a few steps forward but doesn't move otherwise. "Do not move, Parry. Or you will be tazed until you comply." A pause. "Jenkins, stand fast to assist detainment. North, Sondray. Check the Gunnery Sergeant's condition." Her eyes stay fixed on the (maybe!)Cylon.

Constin clambers back up to his feet, naught but a couple bruises worse the wear for his trip. "Belay that," he grunts to North and Ciro, "Assist in securing the prisoner, and lets get en route to the Brig Ay-Sap. Move, team."

Meanwhile, Pewter, who had stared at the unfolding events from behind the defense of a Khloe, shakes his head. "I think," he voices quietly, "That we.. gonna hafta re-schedule this here get-together, all," turning a slow eye among the department heads and letting out a ponderous breath.

At Pewter's declaration and the marines' re-acquiring control of the situation, Khloe safeties her pistol and tucks it in its holster. But it remains unbuttoned, as she's a bit on edge now. Turning briefly to regard Pewter with a slight, respectful nod, she steps away - she won't humiliate the man by hovering.

A marine like Ciro with his rifle raised is a sign that with the right agitation lives could be lost. However, as bodies start to cut off his firing angle, he lowers it to again point towards the deck. He glances over his shoulder to the space behind him, checking his available road before he starts to move. "Yes si—" He starts, letting Vandenberg know that she's been heard before he's interrupted by the obviously living Gunnery Sergeant. His eyes tilt, checking the man's condition before he steps back into position as rear guard. "Doorway cleared." He says loudly, with a level of finality. He's watching them, and anything that tries to break up this arrest will have his overwatch to contend with.

"Aye, Guns," Van replies, still holding her eyes on Parry. She has a tazer, she isn't going to move. Let the other people slap cuffs as needed. The Captain moves a few steps closer but falls silent.

North isn't getting melee with it, she's staying back by the hatch with her rifle now pointed in the direction of RoboParry. It's got to be a little disconcerting for the young marine to see her boss sail through the air like a gorilla shaped trapeze artist, because her thoughts spill right out her mouth, "Hooker red lipstick is always a sign of a woman about to behave badly. Somebody should add that to the profile." She white knuckles her rifle, but doesn't shoot anyone. It takes a little longer than usual for Vandenberg's orders to penetrate her brain, but North utters a, "S—." It was probably a 'sir' of acknowledgment, but a countermanded order turns it into, "Gunny." To Ciro, "Cover." She slings her rifle over her shoulder and moves into help with the restraints. How many sets of zip ties can a private affix to a suspected cylon? She'll probably stop at three. Maybe.

Taking a few steps back from Parry now that the tazers have seemed to do their job, Madilyn does indeed draw her sidearm and point it right at Parry. All the while, she moves her feet from bring her around so she's shooting at computers and not people if she should have to fire. "Whatever you put on this thing, double them…frak, triple them. Use every set of them you have for frak's sake," Madilyn advises the MPs physically putting the restraints on.

Sofia doesn't seem too offended by lack of response. She's kinda glad Elf is getting up at least. Though Madilyn gets a wide-eyed look. This is definitely the whackiest shift she's had in a long time. She fidgets. "Um. I'm … just gonna … fix that console," Sofia seems none-too eager to linger any longer than she has to. But she IS a snipe and things undone might bother an engineer all night. But she will at least, watch the Marine Train. Ciro gets a glance and Sofia might smile if she weren't so startled. She's … just gonna be over there. Working. AWAY from the Cylonette.

Bound with wrists behind her back, and cuffed at the ankles with walking restrains as instructed, the prisoner slowly begins to regain consciousness after several dozen seconds. Wide eyed and looking rather frightened, the woman is escorted promptly out of the CIC under heavy guard. As Ciro clears the hatch, the backup fireteam takes up point, while the path from CIC to the brig is cleared.

Constin remains long enough to voice, "Will have that report for you inside the hour, sir," to Pewter, before selling the Commander a salute, and taking his leave to assist in escorting the boat's newest prisoner.

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