| Blowing Sunshine |
| Summary: | Allie learns more than she expected when Clive and her talk about the Cylon prisoner. |
| Date: | 17 Jul 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Eleven logs |
| Players: |
  |
| Map Room |
|---|
| The one object that dominates this room is the one it is named for: the giant plotting table in the center of the room. Bottom-lit like the plot in CIC, this one is twenty feet across and about the same distance wide. The maps, which are rolled and kept in a locker at the side of the room, provide much more detail than most of the charts in CIC and are especially useful in planning tactical operations. Unscaled models of ships are available to be situated on the surface of the table and risers on each side of the room allow for a small audience to watch or be briefed. A single large LCD screen is built into the wall at the far end to display reconnaissance or other supplemental material. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #141 |
Later in the evening, things are still a little crazy around the ship. A full 24 hours after the breakout and things still aren't up and working 100%. Tillman was forced to 'stand watch' down on the hangar deck in a Raptor most of the day while yeomen brought him reports. Fun times. Finally off duty, he's taking to more work. The man is leaned over the map table with a plot of the skies around Saggie. He's in his blues pants and the sidearm is still on his hip, but the jacket has been tossed on the unused end of the table. A pen taps against the plexiglass top, his face a mask. He's thinking about srs stuff.
It's been a while since Alessandra last set foot in the map room, a good week and a half if not longer, this being somewhere she rarely needs to be. Despite that, something seems to have drawn her here, all serious and lost in thought as is the Major this evening. "Sir," she greets Tillman while making sure the hatch is firmly closed behind her. One and then several more steps carry her closer to him. The only thing she has in common with the XO is the fact that she too is armed, the pilot otherwise garbed in her off duty fatigues.
Tillman looks up and reaches to roll the map but smirks at who it is. He lazies back down into his lean and taps the pen once more. "Lieutenant. To what do I owe the pleasure? Or are you just wandering the ship?" he offers easily, watching her on the approach.
Alessandra drops her gaze to the map briefly, only long enough to catch vague lines instead of specific details, her brow creased slightly as she thinks. "I was kind of wandering while looking for you," she explains casually. "Been kind of feeling restless so thought I'd hunt you down, see if you're doing alright." There's a definite note of concern when she admits that, Alessandra's worry over her 'adopted father' something that she can't hide even if she were to want to. "Talk to me, please Clive. Blow some sunshine up my ass and tell me things are alright."
Tillman ain't been getting much sleep. Its pretty obvious. But he's still functional. Coffee is probably to blame for that one. "Yeah, I'm doin' alright. Just lookin' over some stuff. The Eleven we've got is frying my brain, though." That smile turns up, but its not really warm. "Blow some sunshine? Well, we're due in port next week. I've ordered you a couple of fine, upstanding male escorts direct from Virgon. Big, burly, ballsy, woodsmen types. You'll have them for the week to do as you wish. Oh! And there's a case of Merlot in your bunk. A gift delivered from the President for thanks for your efforts during the recent laziness."
A quick sweep of the table is given, Allie making a quick count of coffee mugs; knowing the Major like she does, she's expecting to find at least one - any less than that will most likely be a sign that the end of life as it is known is upon them all. "The Eleven…oh, yeah. I heard about it. Assuming that's the 'prisoner' that someone made mention of, of course." Grinning at Clive, she leans over the table now, this time taking a bit more interest in his work. "Male escorts and wine? Goodness, sir. Better be careful, there. Spoil me too much and I might come to expect it all the time." It was not what she was wanting to hear but his joke does help to buoy her mood and is now able to smile a bit.
"Yeeeeep. That'd be the prisoner 'someone' made mention of. Damned thing is singing. Get into a room with it and she doesn't stop talking. I swear to the Gods, everything she says is mind-blowing for what it could mean." He doesn't sound terribly happy about it, though. A hand reaches for his coffee mug and takes a sip. With her last, he smirks. "You deserve it, kiddo. Keep busting your ass like you have. I know I'm impressed. You seem more confident lately. Standing a little taller. It looks good on you. Keep wearing that."
"I'd be careful about putting any kind of stock in anything the prisoner might say but I doubt that's anything you haven't thought of yourself, sir." Not any kind of interrogative specialist leaves her with nothing to say outside of that, Clive sparred anything like shipshod advice as Allie doesn't go on, instead moving right along with the flow of the conversation. "Actually, if you could swing a hot bath and a steak dinner, I'd like that a lot more than the men and booze." Looking away, Allie fights the blush that heats her cheeks, the coloring kept under control while the warmth flickers upon her cheeks. "I feel more confident, Clive. It feels good. I think I will." Keep wearing it, that is.
"You know what else looks good on you? The blush." Things suck all aorund and the man still wants to take time to compliment those around him. "Not sure you wanna wear that everyplace, though. But I'll get on that steak dinner, pronto." Tillman looks back down to the map, then. "But yeah, there's nothing she says that isn't suspect. She's filling in a lot of holes though, so it makes me curious as to just how much of what she is saying is true. Annd?" He takes a breath, looking back up to her. "She's got a target she wants us to hit. Here." The pen swings around in his fingers, the tip settling on a circled place in the colony's orbit.
Okay, now that is not fair, the mentioning of the blush for as soon as he mentions it it gets away from her and goes to zomgRED in no time flat. Alessandra winces slightly but ignores it, not wanting to make it worse than it was just made. Tilting her head, the circle is looked at, this bringing out the curious cat manner that she has exhibted quite a bit recently. "Okay. So she wants us to hit it here…" she taps the place Tillman just indicated, her blush replaced by a troubled expression. "What is there, sir?"
"See? There it is again," he chuckles before looking back to the map. The Major lets off a long breath between his lips. "She's telling us that there's a biological warfare facility there. That the shit our people encountered on her site was the tame stuff. She described her project as 'humane population control'." Its easy to tell he doesn't find the euphamism clever. "She's telling us that this is pretty damend barbaric. The kicker is that we can't recon the site because she says it will tip them off." His eyes lift to hers. "An enemy agent with questionable intentions is barfing up intel like a 16 year old girl drinking hard alcohol for the first time. So far, what she's saying fills in a lot of gaps despite how insane it might be. However none of it is verifiable at this time. And she wants us to destroy this place. On blind faith."
"Biowarfare facility she wants us to hit but yet we can't recon? Yeah, that's not setting our people up for an ass whooping." Yup, time to consider the LT displeased at this. Reaching a hand up, she uses it to support her chin, her elbow resting on the table as she peers intently into the Major's eyes unflinchingly. "Guess we really don't have a choice, though. If it's worse than what we first came across, we can not let it remain in existence." Bad time to state the obvious but she is talking to herself more than saying it to Clive so maybe it won't be too much of an annoyance. "Do you have any idea of when this will go down or is it all still in the planning stage?"
Tillman doesn't say a word until she finishes. "Neither. I'm not taking this fleet and risking it deep behind enemy lines with all the rest of humanity on board for this. No recon? Unreliable source with questionable motivations?" The Major shakes his head slowly. "Not a frakking chance. I already talked to the CAG and she agrees. This thing stinks like more of a trap than anything we've come across before. She tells us to jump in and it turns out to be a fleet anchorage with forty basestars? We're toast and I don't mean like the CAG. Three ships versus that many? We'd last about forty-five seconds. You'd barely be out the tubes. Once out, you wouldn't survive the nukes." A pause. "If its a trap."
Pursing her lips, Allie looks up thoughtfully, staring just at a place above the Major's head when he talks, emotions held carefully in check. "Okay. So assuming it's a trap, this is a good idea but what if she's telling the truth." The fact that she's about to play Devil's Advocate with this leaves a nasty taste in her mouth but something nags at her to do so, it causing the words to almost leap from it. "We leave it alone, those bastards get their weapons made and ready for use…we'll be frakked, sir." Nasty situation, this. No real win to be had. Either way, no matter what, they're looking at a lot of losses. Taking a deep breath, she peers a bit more intently at that red circle and the area around it, her nose wrinkled faintly. "What about a drone?"
Tillman lifts his hand. "I know. I know. I've been playing that angle in my mind for the past couple of days. The problem is, we can't risk it. Everything else she's feeding us could be true - but if it is, none of that would matter if we flew into a trap. We're all dead anyway." No wonder the XO hasn't slept much. This is like the choice between the firing squad and starvation. Maybe. He sinks his head and runs his hand through his hair - what little there is left. "She's also claiming there's a lot of survivors out there. Her words? 'More than you thought, less than you would hope.'" His hand slips across his face. The man is exhausted. "The things she says..Its enough to shake the soul to the core. Resurrection. Weapons. Divisions in their ranks. Gods, Allie." Bad time to be the XO.
Alessandra grins faintly while her eyes narrow, the combination making her look almost like she's planning something very evil. "Could always send me," she says in a whisper, too serious-sounding to be kidding, right? When will she frakking learn to not volunteer herself for shit missions like that? Offer made to be taken as it will, she finds that she's now boggling, something about the thought of more survivors getting her mouth to open but now nothing comes out; whatever she might have to say about that is left unsaid, the words that she eventually speaks skipping over that subject entirely. "So they're not above having the same problems we humans have, huh? Wonder if we can use the division to our advantage."
"I'm not sending you anywhere. Not without the ship. Not without the permission of the CAG. If you're looking to die, Lieutenant, its going to have to be some other day and some other way." Tillman looks back up to her and ghosts a smile. "We go as a team. Nothing less. Probably is choosing whether or not to go. I won't push without proof of something." He looks back to the map, tapping the pen again. "Same problems. Same issues. Medical reports even say that these humanoid ones aren't just human-oid. For all intents and purposes, they are human inside and out. But I'm already working the division angle. I need to talk to her more. Mostly about their 'culture' and who they think they are. I can play at those angles well enough to exploit. It just takes time. She already shows promising signs of turning coat - though it could all be for show."
The answer was expected, truly, so it doesn't come as any surprise when she's told no. "Okay. So proof. Have you guys tried conventional means of finding out if she's being truthful?" She's thinking about a lie detector test but is uncertain as to if the Marines or the JAG corps would have access to such a machine, it being why she doesn't go further where trying to deduce if the cylon is being truthful or not. "I'd love to get inside Eleven's brain," slips unbidden from her, then, that a hushed murmur that she doesn't even seem to hear, her mind so wrapped around some idea or another that she's too occupied to realize she said something.
"We've got that kinda gear, but a machine testing a machine?" Tillman shakes his head. "Likely the results would just confuse us more than we already are. Fact is, I can't think of a single way to test anything it says. Not without giving up our own intel - which I won't do. And you wanna know something?" Tillman meets her eyes dead-on. "Sergeant Constin showed her pictures. She positively identified two Cylons but flipped the hell out when we weren't sure about identities. He showed her a picture of Abbot." He let's that sink in. "She has no problem talking about him but has no idea who he is. Said he isn't a Cylon." To her last, the man grunts. "You wanna see a Cylon brain? Morgenfield is down in the morgue. Go ahead."
Alessandra shakes her head. "Yeah, we don't want to give away any advantages we have. Frakking things are elusive nowadays, hmmm?" Elusive? They're about impossible to find anymore, making it all the more important to not lose the few they have. A finger is rubbed under her lower lip and then she pushes away from the map table, her back eventually turned towards Clive to hide the almost-panic that begins to work onto her features. "She doesn't know Abbot? Does that mean he…is innocent?" Looking over her shoulder, she blinks and then semi-playfully sticks her tongue out, that being over his retort to what she said.
"We have a couple solid advantages that I've been playing to. Our battlegroup is small, but that means we're highly mobile and harder to find. The larger you are, the more things can go wrong. I'd love to have more, but we've got what we've got. But that's just one of a few." Tillman watches her turn away and shrugs. "Engineering's analysis says that the videotape is legit. It doesn't appear to be tampered with at all. But? She says he isn't. She could be lying. She could be telling us the truth. I'm disinclined to see him executed until it is proven successfully."
Alessandra sighs. "I wish there was a way to get this finished. I hate feeling like I'm stuck in limbo, you know?" Shaking herself out of the funk, Allie squares her shoulders and puts on another smile, it done in an attempt to brighten her mood. "We'll get it all figured out, I'm sure of it. And you and I will walk way from it. Just wait, sir." Or so they can hope.
Tillman shakes his head. "Its bad business, no doubt. But we're in the clear for now. I believe the Colonel is agreeing with their findings. Sergeant Constin isn't inclined to believe the Eleven. Personally? I've got better things to lose sleep over now. I think we all do." Tillman returns the smile. "Miss Sophronia? We have a lot to figure out. Once we get this junk straightened out with her, I'll be releasing the tapes. For now, the material on them is unclassified. People can talk about what they know. But I'm keeping the tapes locked for now. That's why Miss Averies is not in the brig for what she wrote."
"Let me know if I can be of help, sir." A chirp from her watch has Allie looking down, the time getting her to grumble, most likely about to be late. "I need to get out of here. Got something to deal with. Permission to leave, sir?" Smiling, she offers the Major a salute.