PHD #090: Coll Fire
Coll Fire
Summary: Coll gets into trouble. Gets busted. Gets in further trouble. Falls to pieces.
Date: 27 May 2041 AE
Related Logs: Raptor-305 stuff
Coll Constin Cadmus Alessandra Quinn Ethan Cidra NPC 
Port Hangar Deck
The single largest rooms on the Cerberus are the hangar decks. Each flight pod consists of two stacked landing bays with adjoined decks and hangars, which along with computer-assisted landings results in a faster Viper recovery rate. Mirror images of each other, these two huge areas are located on the flight pods. The inboard sides of the deck, closest to the ship's main hull, are lined with parking and maintenance bays for Vipers and Raptors based aboard the battlestar. The outboard side of the deck contains the launch tubes used by the Vipers for standard deployment. Huge blast doors seal the deck into four sections, each one containing an elevator that leads up to the flight deck directly overhead. The fore-most section contains an elevator system that leads towards Aerospace Fabrication.
Post-Holocaust Day: #90

Coll is just coming on duty. She's in her orange jumpsuit and sitting on a munitions cart be the entrance hatch. The woman is going over a small form on a clipboard and checking things off. Looks like a report on Raptor damage to a particular ship. She has a bottle of water beside her on the cart that she sips at every few minutes. The orange helmet sits on the top of a missile that stands upright on the rack. She's mostly alone, nobody else seeming to want to wander over to her.

Constin has a clipboard of his own, as the big man moves through the flight deck with the practiced habit of someone used to staying out of the technicians' way. The MP stops near where Coll is sitting to ask, "Specialist.. Which of these birds is Harrier six-five-one?" His expression is all business, and his voice is slightly higher in pitch than one might guess from his size.

Its really hard to ignore an approaching MP. But when one comes up and addresses you by rank? Coll snaps her eyes up like she'd been caught red-handed with something. "What? Why?" Fingers tighten around the clipboard in her hands. "There something wrong?" Her eyes flicker to the Raptor closest by.

Constin looks up from the clipboard to eye the nervous tech. "There better not be," he answers flatly, tapping the edge of the clipboard into his left palm. "Can you point me to six-five-one or not, Specialist…?" he leaves the title hanging for Coll to fill in her name.

"Well," she starts, clearing her throat. The Specialist stands jerkily, her movements not quite coordinated. "There's an overhaul needed on the port engine in about twelve more hours. But, I mean.." She furrows her brow, trying to be calm. He's a big guy. She's..not. "I guess its okay." She looks to the clipboard once more before hugging it to herself. A few of the Petty Officers stop to watch, one of them with a wolfish grin. She dips her head and leads the man over towards the Raptor. "Coll, Corporal. Specialist Coll." Someone isn't trying ot advertise. Maybe he'll misunderstand or something.

"Coll?" Constin echoes, with a nod. "Good, that saves me the time of finding you." Eyes go from the tech to the Raptor in question. "Go over the present state of the bird with me, Specialist Coll. Detail what work has been done in the past twenty four hours, and if that's your duty manifest, I'll have a look at it.." he notes, indicating her clipboard.

From the onlookers, certain words float just above the din created by a working hangar deck. 'Traitor', 'Cylons', 'bomber', 'murderer'. Said just loud enough to make sure the MP hears it. Coll is dead nervous at this point. All the color has drained from her face as she looks back to the MP and his mention of finding her. She opens her mouth to say something but only swallows instead and looks back to the Raptor. That's genuine fear. "Uhm. Present state." Another clear of her throat. "Like I said, the port engine will need an overhaul in twelve flight hours." Her voice is halting. "Avionics package in the REKRS gear needs, um, recalibration cuz of.. uhm.. I forgot to patch part of the system when I replaced a circuit board a few days ago." She hands him off the clipboard and steps back away. "It has, ah.." She wipes her hands on her coveralls, glancing around the ship. "About nineteen hundred hours on the frame. This one is mostly flown by.. ah.." She's even staring at the nametape on the side. "By Ensign Ethan Weber." Her eyes glance to the small group of PO's watching the MP deal with her and she turns away to wlak around the front of the Raptor and away from everyone else.

Constin doesn't look aside or make comment to any of the onlookers, mentally making a note to send them back to work if the deck chief doesn't come along and chase off the lookie-loos in another minute. The corporal's attention is divided between Coll and the Raptor. He accepts the clipboard and double checks the counter-signatures on her duty sheet against the printout he received from the deck Chief earlier. He glances up to nod periodically, indicating an acknowledgment of the facts Coll gives him. As she walks around the ship, he lingers long enough to visually inspect the near engine before following her. "Who caught the circuit board error, Specialist?" he asks neutrally as she moves away from everyone else.

Those gloved hands come up to her face, cupping it as she looks out towards the winglet on the other side. "Uhm. I- I don't know." She keeps moving. Pacing. The door to the Raptor is left open and she eyes it as if it might provide some sort of escape. "I was told about it yesterday. I guess someone got it. Pe- They keep doublechecking my work. Guess it was a good thing, huh?" She finally looks back at him, trying to joke wit hthe last remark. But it just sounds hollow and fake - and she knows it. She looks away again. "This Raptor took serious damage during an attack last week. I had to replace the skids on it, I think. But, you know, could have been another Raptor. They all start to roll together or something right?"

"Specialist," Constin voices evenly, without looking up. "I'm aware this is uncomfortable for you. If you can stick to the facts and details, this will be easier for the both of us." He takes down some note or another. "When do you estimate the recalibration will be complete? On *this* Raptor," he adds, unamused by her last comment in the way universal to MPs. Her comment about replacing the skids causes him to flip back two pages to double check something at which he nods. Glancing back up to the woman with his narrow blue eyes.

Coll tenses and looks back to him. "Facts. Sorry." She takes a deep breath and tries to resettle herself. Being out of the line of sight of the others seems to help her relax a little. She's still obviously nervous, though. "Uhm. Well I have to get into the panneling. Like," she gestures inside, "I hafta take the panel off the ECO station. Double check the, the uh, circuit board. Make sure its not damaged. Then get the software installed." An unsteady sigh leaves her. "Probably four hours? I'm supposed to, like, I hafta put these guns on real fast." There's a gesture to the munitions trailer that she was sitting on. "Make sure they are functional. I'm, see, I do a lot of ordnance work and I know the guns really well. Missiles, too. So, you know, I check a lot of functionality."

Constin nods once at that, checking through his own clipboard to make certain the ordinance checks are on her duty sheet, and not an unauthorized act of benevolence. "Functional guns and missiles come in handy, I hear," he notes dryly. "Specialist, I I don't see an ordinance inspection on the deck manifest." He notes this with an intent eye glancing up from the paperwork. "Why is that?"

Fret! She clears her throat again and hugs her midsection. "Uhm, I brought the guns up to test them. I- See I do the same thing with missiles sometimes? Or, I used to. I don't touch missiles anymore. Swear. Not after.." She trails, wincing and stepping back towards the gun trailer. "I check functionality, really. Swear. I make sure they feed n run proper with the avionics package. I had been working on repairin' some of those door guns we got and cleanin them up but..I stay away. I know its not on the sheet but its just somethin' I do." A hard swallow. She doesn't look at the Marine, just the floor of the hangar deck.

"Specialist, consider this a.. *strong* recommendation: either have the deck chief sign off on the test, or have another tech do a pre-and-post inspection. This is not the time when anyone should be leaving any work unaccounted for." Admittedly, that adds another level of hassle to getting basic work done, but Constin is an MP, not a tech. "You said the port engine is due for an overhaul in twelve flight hours?" he recalls. "What's it's state right now?"

"Godsdamnit.." Coll's expression takes on more frustration. "Look, Corporal. I know why you're here. I'm just tryin' to do my damned job, okay?!" She looks hurt, voice only rising slightly. "If everyone would just leave me the hell alone, this wouldn't be an issue. I just wanna do my work, see friends, and try to sleep again! I can't do any of those anymore! Please, I only want to do my part. I had to frakking beg to be let on this hangar deck after Picon. Please don't take my work hobbies away! I don't have much else left!" Coll's starting to come apart, looking more frantic. She's practically begging at this point. No discussion of the engine, either.

"Specialist Coll," Constin begins MP stoneface still in place. "This is not about you. This is not about your free time, and for your information, this isn't about what the rest of the deck thinks of you. This is about the birds, and this Battlestar's first line of defense. By your own admission, you've missed little things. Most people do. Now ah don't care if you break down and cry, but people need to backstop each other, and that means getting someone else to have a look at your bird. Any objections?"

Coll just looks more and more distraught. She's not going to cry, but her face twists like she just might. "Of course I object!" she nearly yells this. "This is my damned job! So now I'm being pulled from that?!" She sticks up both middle fingers in his face. "FRAK. YOU." Her hands are shaking along with her jaw. She takes one last look at the Raptor as she turns. "You and your questions can go to frakking hell, Corporal." She finishes her turn and just walks off back towards the munitions cart.

Constin maintains his stonefaced stare in spite of the two birds he's answered with. "Specialist, unless you are *trying* to get your ass detained, you will turn around and comply with this inspection, do you understand me?" the corporal drawls sharply.

Coll wheels on him when she reaches the munitions cart. She levels a finger. "Piss. Off. I show up here every day. Every godsdamned day. Despite everything else. I'm only doing my damned job and I don't need anymore hassle from you and any other people down here so just leave me the frak alone! Apparently I'm not needed any longer so you can do the godsdamned inspection yourself!" She picks up the water bottle from the munitions cart and keeps walking towards the hatch. Most of the Deck team around has stopped working and is anxiously watching for what will happen next.

Two chances is all she gets. "Specialist Coll," the Corporal declares, the first of several steps after the young woman closing the distance, as a frown displaces his flat neutrality. "You are hereby detained for failing to comply with inspection, pending the decision of your superior officer." The formal litany of words is well rehearsed. Action, cause, condition. "You'd best stop right there," he warns, once.

Its a small bevy of cheers from a few individuals as the MP sings out her detainment. -That- gets to her. She turns and looks at everyone. "See?! You all finally happy?!" the Specialist challenges openly. "Get what you want??" She looks back to Constin, then, and just shakes her head. "Whatever. I don't care anymore." He's already close but she turns and takes a step as if she intends to continue walking anyway.

Alessandra has arrived.

A heavy hand falls on her shoulder. "Come along and you'll be working again before long, Coll," Constin voices quietly. A flat appeal for the woman to settle down. The scene is tough to overlook. Many of the deck crew are looking on, a few even having cheered recently. "Let's not make this any worse, Specialist."

Coll shrugs out of his hand. "How could this possibly be any worse? People think I killed pilots. I'm out of work. No friends. No sleep." She stares at him. "I'm. In. Hell." She nearly growls it. She moves as if to keep walking away towards the hatch to the stairwell.

Alessandra would normally not come onto the deck without having a flight planned but with her being on light duty she is stuck with very little in the way of work-related stuff to keep her busy. So she's down here to see if she can help with inspections or something like that. She steps in just as she hears something that gets her to blink and she turns slowly, just in time to see Coll being led away. "What. The. Frak!?"

Again, the second chance is all Coll is offered before Constin makes things worse for the poor girl. As soon as she shrugs off the hand, the clipboards are dropped with a clatter and the marine slips an arm under one of Coll's to reach back up and take a control hold behind the tech's head. A half nelson in the common parlance. There are matters remaining to attend to- the inspection needs to be completed, the white board needs revision, and Coll's superior officer needs to be contacted, but right now, the most merciful thing Constin can do is get Coll out of the deck bay before she completely breaks down.

Lauren lifts her hands to the big-ass arm around her neck suddenly, the waterbottle falling to the ground. She tries to pull him off but she rapidly loses interest. She knows she can't win. Story of her life in the last few years. Coll resigns herself and looks to Alessandra as the woman calls out. There's an apologetic look on her face before her eyes fall away. "K. K," she coughs out. "I'm not fightin, Corporal. Lemme breathe, please?" she begs, trying to keep it as even and controlled as she can.

There is a shake of her head, Allie trying to assure that the Specialist has no reason to apologize to her over anything. "Not that I'm one to question the technics used by the CMC I do have to wonder if the one you've chosen to use on Coll to detain her isn't a bit excessive." Not knowing the Marine's rank, she simply leaves it at that, Constin addressed respectfully regardlessly.

Quinn has arrived.

The grip is relaxed and replaced by a hand gripping Coll's arm symbolically above the elbow. "Let's get you out of here, Specialist," he voices evenly. Allie's words to him are met with a brief sidelong look. "After being informed of her detainment, and refusing two instructions to comply? Could have been much worse, El-Tee."

Lauren doesn't quite collapse, but her knees weaken as she's released. A few deep breathes follow. The Specialist doesn't even look at Allie. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I can't handle this anymore." There's no tug of her arm away or an attempt to flee. She's just under his control and accepting it. The gang of Deck people nearby are all grins. There was a bit of clapping, too. Someone else, another Specialist, seems all too happy to head over to the Raptor where Coll just left. "Ready when you are Corporal." Her head hangs.

Ethan has arrived.

Someone spoke fast and, in her limping way, Maggie's gotten down here as quickly as possible. Pretty much just in time to hear that bit of clapping and see the parade of the MP and Specialist off the deck. The Harrier's Captain frowns deeply, leaning on her crutches just to the side of the interior of the hatch — so she doesn't block anyone from leaving. The applauding snipe gets a glare from her. "Shut the frak up, Petty Officer." She snaps to him, hopefully stilling any applause.

"That's understandable but you have to remember that there are times when treating a situation with a gentle hand is…" This is when Quinn arrives and Allie falls quiet, letting the higher ranking officer take care of things.
You paged Ethan with 'Nobody knows why she got busted. Just all of a sudden there was yelling and thats all Allie heard or knows.'

"With respect, El-Tee," Constin answers Alessandra back with stoneface again in place, "If you'd inform Lieutenant Paris that she'll be needed in the brig, that would be more useful than continuing this discussion." To say nothing of the frakking cheers. That memory is enough to set Constin scowling again. Without further ado, Coll is escorted out of the hangar.

Coll's head whips up to see Quinn in the doorway. She bites her lower lip and looks back to the ground. The Deck falls nearly silent except for the sound of distant work — the sharp words of a Captain quieting the enlisted. The Specialist just moves off with Constin and then they're gone.

Ethan reaches the hangar just with enough time to see Constin escorting Coll. "What the frak is going on?" is the first thing that the Ensign says and arches both eyebrows after that. He looks at Coll for a moment, opens his mouth to say something and closes it again. His attention moves to Quinn, and he also spots Allie "Captain…" says the man as he approaches them "What's going on?"

Quinn shakes her head quietly, though she doesn't look quite so sharp as she did now that the applause has died down and the enlisted have gotten back to work instead of watching the show. Her eyes trail back towards Ethan for a heartbeat, then flicker up to Alessandra. "The specialist hasn't been feeling well…I suspect the pressure of everything finally… Got to her. I'll be filing a follow up report, but I don't think she needs to be in confinement so much as counseling, frankly." Maggie murmurs, that motherly concern all too earnest in her voice.

"I'm not your secretary, Corporal. You want the Lieutenant to know then you send it down to her yourself." Allie doesn't often take that tone of voice with the enlisted but Constin has done well to chafe her something horrible, the tone she takes getting her to wince. She doesn't bother to apologize, not that the MP and his charge are still here for her to do so, but she does grump a bit, going as far as to kick a near-by toolbox. "Frakkers. Is everyone losing their frakking minds around here?"

"Friend of yours, ah'm guessing?" Constin mutters ostensibly to Coll as the two emerge into the corridor on the heels of Allie's answer. Other than that small comment, Constin will only speak further if Coll chooses to on the way to the brig.


Main Brig

Tiny and cramped, the Main Brig seems designed to be claustrophobic. The steel bars lining the three cells have been set into the steel bulkheads on each side. Inside each cell is a stainless steel toilet and a bunk that might be too short for some of the taller crewmembers. The dreary conditions don't seem to be helped by the presence of a Marine guard who is there twenty-four hours a day, as long as a prisoner is in custody. The whole room is under surveillance via camera system in the Security Hub and every visitor must sign-in and abide by the rules.

Without resistance, the trip through the ship and up to the sixth deck is quick and less humiliating than it might have been. The occasional instruction to wait a moment, or to start moving is the entirety of the discussion, and Coll is led into the holding cell without any further rough handling. Constin is gone for the amount of time it takes to file a summary report, and take care of sending for Coll's SO before the marine re-enters the brig. Coll has had perhaps ten minutes on her own.

Sitting in her orange coveralls, the woman has already taken to trying to get comfortable. She's shoved the bunk against the wall flush and sat down with her back to the same wall. Her legs are tucked up with her arms wrapped around them when Constin comes back. She's not moving or otherwise reacting. She's just sitting there, staring absently at the other wall.

Constin is without the MP stenciled helmet as he enters the holding cell. "Specialist Coll," he acknowledges evenly as the door is closed behind him once again. The MP is without baton and sidearm, as per standard procedure when interacting with even compliant prisoners. "We're still waiting on word from your SO. Any statements you want added to the report?" he asks.

Coll looks up, mounting her chin on her knees as she looks to the MP. "Uhm, no. Just that I'm sorry I gave you the bird, Corporal. That was pretty uncalled for. I know you're just doin' your job." Her head tilts to lean against her knees as her eyes close. "Any idea what's gonna happen to me?" Here, secured in a cell, Coll barely seems a shadow of the irrational and scared-shitless woman on the hangar deck. She's still nervous but it doesn't quite seem that it might be for the same reasons. Almost a relief to her..

Quinn has arrived.

Ethan has arrived.

Constin lets out a breath and settles into a seat facing Coll. He answers her latter question first, "A very good idea, in fact. Another tech will finish off the inspection, with another Em-Pe counter-signing. Assuming everything comes up clean, and assuming you havn't pissed off Major Hahn any time recently, ah'd imagine you'll either be released clean, or let sit here for the full waiting period, to let you cool off. Long as the inspection is all in order, you shouldn't need to worry about an arrest or permanant file."

Quinn steps into the Brig area a few minutes later, moving decently well on her crutches. She looks behind her to Ethan, a slight frown on her lips. "Fresh, as much as I appreciate the escort, I've made it here quite alright and my report won't be for public ears. You're dismissed." She then turns her dark green eyes back towards Constin and Coll, a slightly worried frown on her mouth for the woman, but her words are for the Corporal. "Corporal, don't suppose you know if the Captain or Major are around? I'd like to speak to one of them about the matter."

Coll nods her head and reopens her eyes. "Any chance you can just keep me here for the duration, anyway? I don't want to go back down there right now." No she doesn't sound like she's joking. "Everything on the Raptor should be okay, Corporal. I mean, everything except the munitions. I file false paperwork to get tha-" The Specialist stops as she see's Quinn enter. The woman doesn't stand, either, right away. It takes a moment before she unwraps her arms from her legs and rises. Hands fold behind her back as she comes to parade rest.

Constin looks toward the be-crutched Quinn. "Captain Archer is in his office, sir," the corporal informs Maggie directly.

Ethan walks inside the Brig, right after Captain Quinn. He does look around to take a good look of the place and places his attention on Coll and Constin. However, he stops when the Captain addresses him and nods "Yes, Captain" He salutes and gives another look around, before turning around, leaving. He stops and looks over his shoulder to say something to the Captain but he shakes his head and leaves the place. Does he want to? Not really…

Ethan has left.

Quinn nods curtly to Constin. "Thank you, Corporal." And with that, she turns on the ball of her foot and heads back for the offices. Coll is given just a flicker of her eyes, but the woman's out of her hands now.

Quinn has left.

Constin sits back down to regard Coll once again. "You were saying? Ah think you'd just left off at 'filing false paperwork', he adds with a dry grin. "As for keeping you here, the full term of detainment is three hours. It's for Major Hahn to decide whether you stay here that long, but if you ask her to, she might listen."
<OOC> Constin says, "Woo, everyone's on!"

"Yeah. I wouldn't mind." Coll watches Quinn depart and sits carefully back down on the bed. She assumes her prior position, right down to the chin on her knees. "I was just sayin' that the Marines are doing their jobs, Corporal. Those munitions.." She sighs. "Look, I wasn't lying, okay? I really do this stuff because I like it. I'm good with ordnance. People're refusing to let me access things down there because they think I blew up Raptor three-oh-five. I'm just trying to make sure things are done properly. I'm going insane down there trying to juggle it. I mean, you heard those people. Most of them would rather I'm just shot and done away with." Her voice is quiet. Tired.

Constin nods twice throughout her answer. "And ah hope you understand, Coll.. that ah can't be forgiving, or easy on issues like that when we're on the deck, and ah'm on duty. I could believe you one hundred percent, and I'd still need to say what I did." A short sniff, and wry grin. "I never did pull you from duty, by the way."

"I know. Its just that, you know? I've tried tellin' everyone that I didn't do anything wrong. I've been truthful. It just digs me a bigger hole. So, like, what other options do I have? When the truth is damning and lies are just as bad? The lines don't blur, Corporal. They just stop existing." She sighs and closes her eyes. "Gods. I should have just shut the frak up when I had the chance. I don't think I can bring myself to care anymore, though."

"When the truth and lying both get you into trouble?" Constin answers, leaning elbows onto his knees. "You tell the truth. May not make a difference right away, but eventually it might. Also tends to prevent getting harassed day in and day out by Em-Pees," he adds dryly. "We tend to have an allergic reaction to lies. Makes us break out in a rash of pissed-off."

"Yeah." Coll wipes at her closed eyes and just sits in silence for a minute. "The truth." She sighs. "I'm already in here so I might as well tell you. Frak it. It doesn't matter anymore." Coll opens her eyes and swallows hard. "Look, Corporal.. Raptor three-oh-five? I know what happened to it. I know how, anyway. And it looks a lot like it was me."

"Well then, let's start with the truth and see how things look after that," Constin answers back, with brows raised and the same dry half-smile lingering on his face. "What happened to Raptor three-oh-five?"

The woman looks at him. "Okay, about the time of the blast, I was down in the ordnance lock-up. I had spent the two- two-and-a-half days working over three oh five, right?" She sorta defaltes. No going back now. She gives herself over to the Gods. "I was doing functionality testing on a set of ASIM-54C missiles. The one's we pulled of Parnassus. We can't stock 'em for use until we make sure they work." Another sigh, the woman looking horribly concerned. "Well I left one sitting out while I had to run to the head. I came back and the warhead was missing. frakkin' gone! So I run upstairs to tell the Chief and 305 is shouting for help on the radio. So..I go back down, look at the missile after its all over? My fingerprints are all over it. I'm on the work log for 305 from the prior two days.. Shit. I just put it away at the bottom of the pile and tried to forget about it." Its tough for her to say. She just stares at the MP, waiting for him to explode at her.

"Which is why no other inventory checks came up with missing explosives," Constin finishes his train of though with a frown. "I really wish you'd said something sooner, Specialist. But ah'm glad you said it now. Wait here a minute, Coll. I need to send for Cadmus." The big man rises, and without further ado, raps on the door.

Cadmus has arrived.

Coll just nods and replaces her chin on her knees, going back to staring at the wall.

Whatever the effects of prolonged hours may be on the MP Corps of Cerberus, Cadmus isn't visibly showing them; he's about as sharp as he ever is. He steps into the brig with a perfunctory nod to the guards on duty outside the hatch, and immediately produces a notepad and pen from his breast pocket. "Corporal," he says in greeting to Constin, forgoing the near-automatic salute with visible effort. Marine habits and naval habits apparently clash when aboard a Battlestar.

Constin has removed the MP stenciled helmet, baton and sidearm- standard procedure for entering a cell to speak with a prisoner, and has not replaced them by the time Cadmus arrives. "Corporal," he greets back, the big man's voice a bit higher pitched than one might expect from his size. "Specialist Coll was brought in on an unrelated matter regarding inspections. Minor business. She's just explained, however, that the explosives which damaged three-oh-five didn't turn up missing in any stores, because it was a warhead from the bird's own stocks, removed from the missile, and likely concealed."

Coll keeps her quiet while Cadmus enters. She's sitting on the bed in her cell, legs tucked up against her and arms wrapped around them. She doesn't move except for the shift of her eyes to look at Cadmus. Her eyes flicker between the two for a moment but she says nothing.

Rapid blinking is Cadmus's first response, followed shortly by a slow exhalation and lowered hands. "I…" he begins, only to stop and glance between the other Marine and Coll. Beginning again, he says, "I have to say, that's about the most quickly delivered intel I've had in the past two *months*." He takes a moment to collect himself, once again raising the notepad and pen. "So, warheads, check. Is this individual responsible for the explosion on Raptor Three-Oh-Five? What else do we know?" All told, he looks like he's been hit by a bus; after long hours of tight-lipped deck crew, this must have blindsided him.

"Specialist Coll states that during a munitions check, a missile was left on deck unattended for a period of minutes. When she returned, the warhead was missing." Constin recounts Coll's statement. "She panicked and concealed the missile housing, being that she was the mechanic of record on the bird for the prior two days, any suspicions would fall on her. Whether you believe her or not, I'll leave to you after talking with her, Maragos."

"I didn't blow it up!" she nearly cries, but the sound is subdued and more of a light plea. Coll is probably at the end of her patience and sanity. "That's just those frakheads on the deck talking! They don't know for sure." Realizing that nobody in here is actually listening to her, she picks up the pillow and folds it around her head. Augh. Bad day.

"I think it would be premature for me to voice any belief or disbelief on the subject of the Specialist's guilt," Cadmus admits, straightening a bit; his face, as ever, is impassive. He slowly turns to face Coll, however, and places the end of his pen against his chin. "It does raise questions as to why you chose to fail to report this breach of security to *anyone*, including Chief Atreus, however. I don't think black marks on our permanent records are the highest of our concerns, after G4 explosions on the hangar deck."

Constin goes quiet at that point, leaving Cadmus to take over the discussion. The Corporal picks up the clipboard he'd left on the table outside the cell, and makes a few additions to the prior report. 'Specialist Coll expressed apologies after incarceration, and cooperated fully in this, and unrelated matter' is scrawled at the bottom of the report, before he starts in on a fresh one.

Wait. What? Coll sits up a little straighter and stares at Cadmus. "No! NO! I DIDN'T DO THAT!! You've gotta believe me! I didn't try to hurt anyone!! I love the pilots!!" She's already leapt from the bed and is nearly hanging off the bars. "I- I don't even know where to *find*.." There might have been a tirade. Somewhere in her, there was probably a fight. But she's lost that ability. Her voice only drifts away and her hands drop as she turns away. "Whatever. If you want me to be guilty you'll just make me guilty." The Specialist flops onto the bed and falls sideways into the pillow.

Cadmus scrunches up his face a little, lifting a hand in a futile effort to stop the shouting after it begins. "Specialist Coll, I am not in the practice of 'making' people guilty. I am in the practice of finding out the truth of matters. Quite frankly - I know this may shock you - I don't *care* who is at fault. I just want to keep us from having any more sabotages occur," he says calmly, though with a slightly raised voice. "If you would like to explain to me why you didn't follow procedure, well… Here I am." And he spreads his arms as if to say "hit me".

Constin slips the sidearm and baton back into his belt, before getting back to note-taking. "Coll, if you can calm down a bit, you will see we're not pinning this on you. Can you remind me again what kind of missile it was that the warhead was taken from?"

Lauren doesn't look like she's listening. She just stares at the wall on the other side of the room. Its a few seconds later when she finally says something again. "Because I had been working on the missile and the Raptor. I went to go find Atreus. When I got up to the main deck, we could already hear Emerson begging for her life. People were already out for blood." Coll tucks the pillow closer. "Lance, I'm not part of this crew. I'm from Picon Anchorage. I didn't have any friends that made it. Nobody can vouch for who I am. I'm that faceless outsider. Nobody would care if I got nailed to the wall for this." The woman is cried out after the strain of the past few days. Just a blank stare. "ASIM-54C. One of the Lightning Javelins we pulled off Parnassus. Look for batch code four six alpha whiskey five. Bottom of the box. My fingerprints should be all over it. And anyone else's."

Cadmus actually relaxes a bit, leaning sideways against the wall near Coll's cell after tossing down his notebook and pen. Apparently taking copious notes on this conversation has gone right out the window. "Coll - I don't know your first name, so until you give it to me, 's what you'll be. I'm Cadmus. I'm from Scorpia, and I don't have any friends here either, because they all got lit up when the Fleet Shipyards burned," he says, folding his arms over his chest. "But if you're on this Battlestar, you're part of this crew. Come hell or high water, we're gonna look out for you. *I'm* gonna look out for you, because that's part of my job. Now you're telling us that the warhead was gone when you came back, and that's a damn sight better than any saboteur *would* do, in my experience. We have cameras all over that deck, so whoever took it… Well, we'll see 'em, won't we? Unless you took that warhead yourself, you haven't got anything to worry about other than a procedural screwup."

Constin takes up the slack on copious notetaking as Coll gives him the make, model and location of the missile housing in question. Quietly, he says to Cadmus, "Ah'll check out this missile, see if we can get any more intel from it.."

"Lauren." She just lays there, not moving anymore. The woman is completely spent. Between the yelling on the deck, the full nelson, and the rest of the day? Coll has nothing left. When he says he'll look out for her, she doesn't even blink. Either it doesn't register or she just doesn't care. Or believe him. "I'm going to assume 'cuz you haven't caught one of these guys yet that you haven't seen any of them on camera. You've got me admission. If you can't find any evidence that anyone else touched it then its probably safe to assume that I'll be eating a bullet. Right?"

"Roger that, El. See if you can pull up the camera feeds for the deck, too. I can't imagine it'd be subtle to walk off with a warhead," Cadmus says in respons to Constin, touching his brow. Apparently, only members of Able Three-One are generally called by their first names. Turning back, Cadmus shrugs a little. "Couldn't say. That would be up to the Office of the JAG to decide. I just present evidence. I haven't seen anyone on camera because I haven't checked. I'm busy with other investigations, primarily. But if we can't find anything, and all we know is what you told us… I don't think a bullet is terribly likely. Especially if we can't prove you put the warhead on the Raptor."

Constin replaces the matte black helmet on his head, adjusts the chin strap as he walks, and steps out of the brig to chase down this lead before it- like so many others before, has time to go cold. The big man's expression slips back into the stonefaced 'on duty' set.

"I'd rather you prove that I -didn't- put the bomb on three-oh-five. Proving I didn't doesn't mean much. Sorta like being innocent and being 'not guilty' ain't the same." Coll looks to the floor of her cell. "None of those people on the Deck are going to care. Shoulda heard them when the Corporal announced charges on me." He mouth twitches gently. "Just, whatever is going to happen? I'd rather not drag it out forever. I'll even cop to something I didn't do if it looks like I'm just gonna be convicted anyway. I'm so tired of all this. I just want this crap to end."

Cadmus sighs, and runs the palm of a hand over his face. "Listen, Lauren. If you want to wallow in self-pity in my brig, you're welcome to it. But I'm not going to convict anyone because they want it all to be over. In fact, you should be aware that since you just told me that, I'm liable to ignore anything further you say that's self-incriminating," he says. It's really more groaned than stated.

"Frak you, Lance. I don't need a lecture on pity or my own feelings." There's no bite or malice behind it. She's just..out of gas. "Sounds like exactly the type of thing some mad bomber would say then if they wanted to get off, then, doesn't it? Some crazy lady who decided she couldn't hack it anymore because everyone thought she was guilty? One day she wakes up and decides that it might be easier if she was." She rolls onto her back to stare at the ceiling. "Do whatever you want, Lance Corproal. I'll answer whatever you want, though. Temper with grains of salt at your own discretion."

"Yeah, well… I always do, Specialist," Cadmus says, pitching away from the wall and re-collecting his notepad and pen. They get swept back into his breast pocket, and he gives a last nod toward Coll before moving toward the hatch. He pauses there for a moment, looking back over his shoulder. "You need anything I can bring you? Other than news on the investigation, I mean?"

"Nothin, Lance Corporal. I appreciate the offer." She closes her eyes as he reaches for the hatch. Apparently the Specialist could use a nap or something. "You know where to find me. But if I'm not here, leave a message."

With a nod, Cadmus also collects his helmet and weapons, slapping them back onto his head waist with a series of swift, practiced gestures. His face, as well, turns impassive, and he marches out the hatch as abruptly as he entered.


Cidra has arrived.

The brig is pretty quiet. Coll's been up here for a few hours, yet. There's a Marine at the desk working on some paperwork while the Specialist is sitting in her cell on the bed. Lain on her back, the woman is staring at the ceiling with her knees lifted. All in all, it seems pretty peaceful. Coll doesn't exactly look like she's about to jump up and hit anything or anyone.

Cidra was located by a runner on the deck and so, to the brig she comes. Hands laced behind her back and a slim frown on her face. She's shown back to the area where Coll's brigged by a Marine. Slim frown on her face, though more than anything she looks of puzzlement. "What in devils names is going on here, Specialist…?" she asks. Not knowing the woman's name, she leaves it hanging for it to be supplied.

The Marine glances up to the Major and rises at her entrance. Coll lifts her head just enough to see who it is and her eyes go wide. She's at attention quickly. "Specialist Lauren Coll, sir. Sorry they had to bring you down here. I-" She might be trying to stutter with that bobbing mouth, but nothing comes out. Luckily the Marine can supply an answer: "Sir. Specialist Coll was refusing to cooperate with an investigation and walked away from a Marine that was asking her questions." The woman in the cell just stands there stone-faced.

"As you were, Specialist," Cidra says, tone cool, posture very straight. A look to the Marine who is speaking. "Do go on, please."

Coll falls back to parade rest. She doesn't seem so full of steam and argument anymore. She's just..there. The Marine continues, though. "Sir. Corporal Constin was attempting to conduct a security check on a Raptor that the Specialist was detailed to fix. The Specialist became verbally roused and stomped off from the Corporal. He gave her two warnings before he affected detainment. Its to my understanding that a few members of the Air Wing witnessed at least part of it, sir." He almost speaks in cadence.

Cidra frowns thinly. "I do hope Chief Atreus has been informed of this incident. This…person is his crewman. But he is most busy at this moment. Perhaps that is why I was called. I take it this has something to do with the sabotage incidents on our planes, yes, Specialist?" This question to Coll now, blue eyes fixed upon her. Cidra's gaze is very steady.

Coll suddenly looks very uncomfortable. Her eyes turn away, unwilling to meet Cidra's. "Sorta, sir. I- A lot of the deck gang blame me for what happened on board three-oh-five, sir. The attention ain't stopped until I got up here. But I lost my cool and got really paranoid. Blew up at Corporal Constin, sir. I've apologized to him, as well." She's notably not asking for forgiveness or to be let out.

Constin has connected.

Cidra has been shown into the brig by a Marine. A runner informed her Coll was in the cell, which she now stands in front of. Eying the specialist steadily. "Have charges been filed? Is she being detained? I am still trying to puzzle what precisely is going on."

Constin enters the holding room almost immediately afterward, just in time to hear that last query by the Major. "No charges have been filed at this time, sir," the corporal's voice replies. "I'm told that absent her direct Ess-Oh, you are to be treated as her superior in this instance, Major. Whether charges are filed will be at your discretion, once the case has been explained to you." The drawl which marks his off-duty words is restrained by the formal measure of speech the MP employs now.

Coll gets that she's being talked about and not to so she remains quiet, only nodding to the big-ass MP that somehow makes it through hatches. "Corporal," she greets quickly and quietly.

"Corporal Constin," Cidra says with an inclination of her head to the MP. The Marine is recognized. "Do go on, please. I am most disturbed by the incidents of sabotage on our Deck, as I am sure we all are. If this is involved in some way…well, I am eager to hear the full of it."

Constin nods, voicing in reply, "Then the Major is welcome to a seat if she wishes," he invites, before stating the present situation. "There are two seperate issues here, sir. The initial detainment was due to a refusal to comply with an inspection, and subsequent refusal to acknowledge detainment." Again the practiced, formal nature of the rote phrases roots a lot of the color out of his voice. "We consider that a case of frayed nerves, and recommend no stronger action, since the follow-up inspection found nothing out of order." Might as well deal with the smaller matter first, right?

"Thank you," Cidra says, taking a chair when a seat is invited. A nod to the preliminaries. "Still, with all that has gone on on the hangar deck is it…disconcerting. Continue, Corporal."

Constin draws a fresh breath and sits opposite Cidra, continuing, "While she was being held, Specialist Coll volunteered the information that she had knowledge of the circumstances surrounding Raptor Three-oh-Five's distress, while maintaining her personal innocence in the matter. She claimed that while performing an ordinance inspection, one Lightnning javelin missile was left unattended for a matter of minutes, and upon returning she found the warhead had been removed." Another breath drawn, "Being the only tech on record for the Raptor for the prior two days, she feared blame and panicked, hiding the missile casing, which has since been recovered. We're presently reviewing security feeds of the deck during the names window of time, and running tests on the missile housing."

Coll looks a little ill. That's probably not something she wanted the CAG of all people to hear. She clears her throat and turns her head away, taking a loooong shakey breath. Not good.

"Ah." It is exhaled shortly, Cidra's eyes on Constin rather than Coll. "I see. So. The specialist concealed information which might have, if put to light, saved the lives of that Raptor crew."

Constin considers quietly a moment before answering, "More specifically, sir: the dereliction of duty which left the warhead vulnerable. Information was also concealed, but at this time we don't consider that deception to have been directly responsible for the damage to the Raptor. Investigation is still underway, but Coll's claim is that she was in the process of notifying the deck chief when the raptor in question launched."

Completely unfiltered terror. With Cidra asks that question, all color fades from the Specialists face, making the pale skin contrast sharply with the bright orange coveralls. Eyes wide as saucers, the horror of the idea is encapsulated on her face until Constin can speak up. Her mouth just bobs open and closed like a fish under water. Coll can't help it - she slowly drops to a knee to regain her breathing while she tries to comprehend what might be happening to her. Damned by the truth, once again.

Cidra nods short to Constin. Just taking a moment to digest all that. Then her blue eyes turn on the deckhand again. "Have you anything to say for all this, Coll?"

Constin holds further words until Coll has the opportunity to answer. That is the purpose of conducting these briefings in front of the accused, after all.

"Ohmygods, sir." She catches her breath and tries to stand but needs to sit on the bed, instead. "Major, no. Please. I tried to find the Chief! I did everything I could think of at the time! I would never hurt pilots!!" That abject terror/horror combination on her face still hasn't left. "Never! I- I've had some rough patches, sir, but you.." What? Believe her? She takes a breath and looks to the floor. "Watch the videos. Watch the Ordnance elevator. I didn't wait for it to get to the top and I climbed the last few feet. Ran across the deck. You can't miss me. I..know it doesn't prove anything. But its something, I hope, sir."

Cidra listens to all that, features hard, blue eyes giving little away of either pity or anger. When Coll seems done, she turns back to Constin. "Whether she had knowledge of what was done to the Raptor or not, the rest of this should go to the JAG at least. So be it. Specialist Coll, you are charged with dereliction of duty. I shall not put this through to a full court martial but a partial hearing at the very least is in order. I shall file all the proper papers now, Corporal, with your good assistance."

Constin nods at the decision, voicing, "Yes, sir. If you have anything further to say here, do so now. Ah'll be preparing the papers in the front room, when you're ready." With those words, Constin rises from the table, after checking the chronometer, for the exact hour of the charges being levied.

She buries her face in her hands, body shuddering. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. "Tell the truth." She finally looks up to the Corporal. "I tell the truth. This is what I get? This is the thanks?" There's almost something accusatory to her face while she looks at the Corporal. "I went to the bathroom. The head. I didn't feel good." She's addressing the Major, then-on. The desperation is clinging to her voice like a cheap dress. "Just go all the way. Treason. Mutiny! SOMETHING! Just frakking kill me! What the hell am I going to do after charges?! Rot in the civvie bunks??? Nobody will work with me!!" Seems maybe she -does- have some fight left in her. But its faded almost as fast as she mustered it, leaning back hard against the wall of the cell, bouncing the bun of her hair against the steel.

"You shall do your duty, Specialist. As will we all," Cidra says, rising herself. The coolness of her expression cracks a little as Coll goes on. Sympathy, perhaps? In any case, she doesn't waver. "I am through here, Corporal. I thank you for your assistance. I trust you and the JAG to sort out the whole of this."

The Corporal pauses at the near-accusatory tone. "The truth doesn't always get thanks," Constin voices evenly. "Doesn't always bring what you want. The truth brings what folks deserve, no matter their intentions. Truth's harsh that way," the MP offers before turning to the door which leads into the outer room. "But it's still a helluva lot better than a lie."

"Right. My duty. Like I have been for the past week dealing with all of this. Working my ass off. Trying to ignore everyone calling me a murderer." Defeat. Coll has truly hit her end. "Whatever. Dishonored? Ruled disloyal?" She shakes her head and tips it forward. Sanity has left the building.

"Let us get things settled, then," Cidra says, straightening and looking to Constin. "You shall have the opportunity to answer for this, Specialist." That's all she has for Coll, apparently. She'll go with Constin to get those papers together.

Constin steps out of the brig, leaving the same marine on duty that had been present before Constin entered. Into the next room, to request the necessary forms. Gods, he hates paperwork. "Ah'll be sure to inform you if the security feeds or the print-work turns up anything, sir."

"I thank you," Cidra says simply to Constin, following him to finish up the particulars. Coll is left to her cell.

Papers are filled out, and presented to Cidra for the appropriate counter-signatures. The time stamp is put down, and Constin says nothing, in the middle of a situation that never gets less awkward. No one's ever happy to see these kind of charges filed.

Cidra signs on all the proper lines in neat, flowing script. Awkward? No sense of it from her. Not outwardly, at least. She gets it done swiftly, saying nothing to Constin either. It's certainly not something she does gladly.

"That's all we need, Major." Constin states when it's finished. "You'll be informed of anything further." The papers are gathered up in a folder, and held. Unless Cidra has any further questions, he'll carry it to its next stop on the way up the chain of command.

"I thank you, Corporal," Cidra says again as she hands over the finished forms. This unpleasant piece of business taken care of, she'll take her leave of MP Country.

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