| Breakout in the Clink |
| Summary: | Burke visits Bannik in the brig. |
| Date: | 26 Apr 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | None. |
| Players: |
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| Main Brig — Deck Six — Battlestar Cerberus |
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| 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: #424 |
Bzzt, the sound of the door separating the holding area from the entrance way becoming unlocked, fills the brig. If there's one, very small, upside to being in the brig for Bannik, it is that he is allowed basically unlimited visitors. Still, for the moment, he's sitting on his "bed" with a pad and pencil, occasionally frowning, writing, erasing, and then writing some more. When the guard shouts out he has a visitor, though, the Specialist gets to his feet and comes towards the bars. Who could it be?
Ensign Burke is fresh off combat air patrol, still dressed up to his hips in his flight suit (it's been tied off at the waist by the sleeves) and his undershirt. In one hand he holds an intensely beaten-up and worn acoustic guitar by the neck, nodding amiably to the MP as he steps past him and then pops down on a folding chair outside of Bannik's cell, "Hey there," he says in a near-indecipherable southern Aerilonian drawl, "You're Spesh'list Bannik, ain'tcha?"
"That'd be me," agrees Bannik, furrowing his brow at this new visitor. Not that he doesn't like visitors, mind. He just can't seem to figure out why he's gotten this one. "You're — uh. Burke, right? You got captured by the Areion air wing." His call sign apparently hasn't reached down here yet.
"Yep," Burke nods his head, sitting there for a moment and simply smiling that easygoing smile of his before he's struck with a sudden thought, "Shoot! Forgot, you prol'y got no idea why Ah'm even here. Truth be told, Ah'm not quite certain a'that myself. Ah just figure us Aerilon boys gotta stick together. An', well, Ah'm a little curious about that stuff what happened what got you locked in here t' start with. 'Course, if'n you mind a visitor Ah can hit th' road … "
Bannik shakes his head. "No. No. It's okay. I'm happy to talk about it. I need to talk about it, Burke. I'd tell the whole Fleet if I could. It's —" Bannik's voice trails off. "Well. It's really something. So you're welcome to stay. And it was real nice of you to come." With that all out of the way to start, he just says it: "Two of the Cylon models — the Twos and the Elevens — they want to ally with us. They want us to come down to Gemenon and help them research some ancient ruins they've found there."
"Ah'll admit that sounds peculiar t' me," Burke says, leaning forward slightly as though sharing a conspiratorial secret, "Blow up humans then turn 'round an' want to be friends? Back where Ah'm from, if a feller punched you in th' nose then turned around and said he wanted t' be friends? He was pro'ly just hopin' you'd git close enough so he could punch y'out fer good."
"But that's the thing." Bannik's voice is very serious, as if sharing a /very important point/. He, too, is leaning in. "The Twos and the Elevens never did anything to us. Especially not McQueen. When the orders came, he didn't do anything. He flew with us. He didn't turn against us. And the Elevens, they've helped us in so many places. Not all Cylon models at the same. Just like all Colonials aren't the same."
"Ah guess that makes a li'l sense," Burke seems to admit, a touch begrudgingly, "Still, there's definitely some of 'em who want t' finish the job. Ah don't know if Ah trust 'em, all th' same. If'n they didn't want any a'this t' happen, why didn't they do somethin'? Like warn people?"
Bannik considers this for a moment. "I don't know." Bannik can admit that much. "Maybe its because they didn't realize it until the orders came. Or — maybe. I mean. You saw what Areion did with its Cylon hunt. Maybe this was the time because we would be in a better place to hear them, after we realized what fear and hatred brought us, in the form of Kepner."
"Ah guess," Burke still seems sceptical, but he shrugs his shoulders, "Ah s'pose it'll all work out. The Lords have a plan for us, Ah'm sure." He offers a light smile, gesturing at the cell wall, "Hope they let y'out a'there soon."
Bannik glances around the cell. "Thanks, Breakout. I appreciate it. Not sure if I will — but. I can at least hope for it." A pause. "Just. You know. If you can talk this up, what I told you, I'd appreciate it. This word needs to get out."
"Ah'll do that," Burke answers with a nod, taking a deep breath and expelling it as a sigh, "Strange days. Back t' fightin' people instead'a machines."
"Seems like we're always our worst enemies in the end, huh?" Bannik sighs and makes towards his bunk once more to sit down. "Thanks for coming by, huh, Breakout? I really appreciate it. It's a Hades of a story — you on Areion. You're a real legend, you know that? I really appreciate it."
"Legend, pfft," Burke dismisses that with a wave of his hand and a light chuckle, climbing to his feet, "Did what anyone'd do in that situation. No mistake 'bout that. An' no problem 'bout comin' by. Ah'll come by again, too. Ah still want t'talk to your friend when she's awake," He gestures towards Sawyer's cell, "My daddy always taught me if Ah want t' learn th' truth, Ah go to the source."
"Sawyer's a reporter. She loves talking." Bannik smiles at that. "But take care, Breakout. See you sometime soon. I hope it's on the Deck next time, though."