| Counterpoint |
| Summary: | Ciro gives Bannik a small bit of information as to the status of Gemenon. |
| Date: | 23 May 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
  |
| Observation Deck |
| With a quiet view to the stars, this tends to be one of the more popular 'quiet areas' of the Cerberus. Up front is a small-unseated area for ceremonies or other activities while the seating rises up behind it. Each level rises up behind the one before it, comfortable chairs and couches set up for crewmembers to relax, get some work done or even take a nap. A large armored plate is lowered during Condition One to protect the interior against a breach in the glass. |
| Condition Level: 3 - All Clear |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #451 |
The Observation deck is silent and empty save for a lone figure sitting near the front. Sergeant Ciro Sondray, mohawk haircut and all, is resting on a single, low seating chair with a book in his lap and a steaming mug of tea on an endtable beside him. Dressed in his off-duties, he appears to be studying and casually taking glances at the swirling planet that rests past the large, reinforced window before him.
"Hey. Uh. Ciro?" Bannik makes his way into the Observation Deck tentatively, in his off-duty greens. "I, uh — I saw you get off the Raptor that landed on the Deck the other day." It's not much of an opening gambit, but it's something. It lets him just about respond however he would like to.
Looking over his shoulder, Ciro's eyes fall onto Bannik and then glance over his shoulder, looking for the ever-present sign of a personal bodyguard. "That I did." Ciro replies, closing the book on his lap. Sensing an incoming conversation, he sets the book aside and reaches for his mug of tea. "Hope the stench didn't rot your eyes out. What's on your mind, kid?"
Bannik reaches up and touches his hair, running his fingers through it. It's a nervous gesture, perhaps. As for the private bodyguard? He's well outside the hatch, keeping his distance. He's been staying farther and father away now. "I was — wondering about — what happened down there." Might as well just spit it out.
Ciro pauses to bring the mug of tea to his lips, sipping in silence. Swallowing the hot liquid, he sets the mug back down and turns to face the younger man more fully, crossing his arms across his chest. Mentally tossing a cubit, it seems, the answer as to which side wins comes shortly. "They're armed down there, for whatever reason." He motions to a chair nearby, keeping the conversation friendly. "I can't go into details as to how armed, but…I'm not sensing a current level of peace from what I saw." He watches the younger man's face, weighing his reaction.
"Well, sure." That doesn't seem to faze Bannik. "I mean, if you were a dissident Cylon faction, broken away from the other models, wouldn't you want at least some defenses?" He has a ready explanation for that. "What makes you think they plan to use it against us if we came to help them?"
"I have no information as to whether or not they would. I'll be honest with you there. We didn't exactly stand up and wave at them. In all fairness, all dreams and faith aside it's the responsible thing to do…" He folds his arms, lifting his shoulders in a noncommital shrug. "There's a militaristic presence down there that's hard to put a finger on. Let me ask you this…don't you find it the least bit concerning that they've been very vague as to exactly what they're needing our aid with? They need our help…" Ciro whistles. "…they look pretty damned well taken care of down there."
"They need our help to crack the clues held inside of the Temple of Athena," says Bannik, as if they must have known this all along. "That's what the video said; that's what they told me. The people of the Ark Ship visited there. There are clues there of where we might be able to go." His voice is somewhat plaintive. "What more do you need them to tell us? How are they being vague?"
"Hey…look, I know you've got a list of people on your side and a list of people that wouldn't mind hitting you with a brick, Tyr. Chalk me into the category of people that isn't deaf to the idea but wants to play this one safe when it comes to the stakes involved. There's a lot on the line, as well I'm sure you know…" Ciro pauses, reaching for his mug of tea again. The warmed ceramic feels good in his hands. "…I can't trust someone else's experiences, only my own. The cylons have always been vague, though. Maybe not this brother Solon, though. Wolfe took me on a tour of Eleven's sketchbook, and it's fascinating shit, but the means of communicating it to us has been…scripture-like."
"Well, there's a lot of scripture in it. I mean, well, you know what I've said." Bannik slips into one of the seats here, taking off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes. "I think this is the next iteration of the story that's happened before. I think the last iteration is part of the story the ark ship has to tell. And I think some of the story is down on Gemenon. And to figure out our story, we need to figure out that story."
Ciro breathes in deeply and then sighs to the side. What Bannik is speaking about is a lot to take in, and it's filled with lots of his own personal experiences. These are experiences that Ciro simply does not have. "When we were coming in, it looked like the Raiders were signalling something…" Ciro admits, taking another sip from the tea. "Look, kid, I'm going to be straight with you. If the clues inside of the temple are some sort of answer to getting out of this war then…fine…let's do it, but there's a way of going about it. I know you feel really strongly about all of this, but there's a way of going about this without risking this fleet eating itself apart."
"Signaling something? Like light code?" Bannik leans forward, intensely interested now. It's his first bit of hard data he's gotten from this. "What did they say? What was the message?"
"Frakked if I know. I'm a marine, not an LSO. The little bit of it I saw was from a distance anyway." Ciro cringes, hoping he hasn't thrown a log covered in gasoline onto the fire. "Wait wait wait wait wait…" He waves his hands, pointing a finger towards the space between Bannik's eyebrows. "…frak, you're hungry, aren't you?" Ciro chuckles, shaking his head. "Look, before you go writing another manifesto you and I need to come to an understanding. Why would I give you anything if you're going to use it the way you have been? You do realize if you don't slow this shit down a bit you're putting more than just yourself at risk, right?"
Bannik lets out a heavy sigh. "Well, best I knew, no one was even doing anything about the offer, Ciro. You have to see it from my perspective, too. I mean, you go down there and you're presented an offer from a group of dissident Cylons to actually help us. And you get back, and rather than being pulled into high-level meetings, you get tossed in the brig and hit with charges. How would that make you feel? Wouldn't you want to get your message out anyway you could?" He leans back in his chair. "I'm really glad you went there; that you checked it out. But I've been working a lot on the ark ship and all of this. Maybe I know something that could help. That's all."
"Hey and I'm not saying one way or another. You could be right for all I know. I'm the guy that crawls around in the mud and makes sure that if shooting happens that my shooting is more often and more accurate than the other guy's, and that if something gets hit it's me instead of people with college degrees." Ciro raises his shoulders. "Trust me I figure that's got to piss you off. It'd piss me off. You thought you were doing the right thing for humanity, right? Look, kid, we're enlisted. We don't own ourselves. It's war and all of the laws are frak-strict and … I guess it probably seems like no one's listening. I get that." His lips form a flat line, offering the younger soldier a hard look. "But what if your opponents decide to hit you when you're around Sofia? What if your opponents, or worse a Cylon, puts one of theirs in close to you? What then? What if you died by a Cylon agent's hand and your supporters thought it was a military assasination?" Ciro leans forward, deadly serious. "You have got to pull back, kid. Do this the right way. At this point you're a prime target, and the Cylons love demoralization."
"What is the right way, Ciro?" Bannik shakes his head. "I don't even know anymore. I thought if I worked hard and did my job and all of that, everything would turn out okay. But now this happens and I was sitting in the brig and —" He sighs. "I don't know anymore. You learn in Basic that the chain of command is the way to go, that senior officers always know best. You know what we've done? We've executed one head of the Fleet and had to kill the other one. So — maybe things outside of the chain of command are the way to go. I just — damn it. How am I supposed to do this, Ciro? What's my better way?"
Again, Ciro gives Bannik a long, quiet stare. He nods his head a few times, listening. His tongue presses to one of his molars and his eyebrows lift as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Frak…" It's as if he can't believe he's about to say what he does.
"I've given it a lot of thought, Bannik. I don't trust anyone in the fleet, at least not too much. There are Cylons out there. So step one is to stop being the loudest person in the room waving the torch. Step two is to remember that you are still enlisted personnel, and that it's your sworn duty to follow military protocol, which means do what you want, but do it on your own time." Ciro tilts his head, watching Tyr's every reaction…every facial tell. "There's something frakked about this fleet, but what you need is to not fight your opponents, but to speak their language. Draw up reports. Prepare statements. Take them up the chain of command and show them that you're willing to play ball because I promise you that if this doesn't stop you're gonna force yourself into being some kind of martyr, and any good or bad points you've tried to make to people is going to get twisted into shit you weren't trying to say."
"All right. Well. Maybe I'll give it a try. You know, speak their language. Try to — work whatever it is I have by way of professional influence. But — if that doesn't work." Bannik shakes his head. "I've got to get the message out. I can't not. I was picked to be there so I could. I'm not going to turn my back on that. Even if some in the Fleet are trying to turn their backs on the Destiny that lies down there."
"Alright, you're going to do what you're going to do. All I'm trying to do is remind you that if you become a part of the fleet's moral or direction, you're taking on a lot of risk both dead and alive. Either way you run the risk of burying us all. Just don't forget that. Ever." Ciro nods his head, leaning back in his chair to reach for his tea. He sips, watching Bannik over the rim of the mug. "For the record? I can't wait to get back down there. Destiny or not…it was nice being on solid ground."
Bannik gets to his feet and smiles down at the seated Marine. "Yeah. A lot of people are going to feel that way, I bet." The smile even touches the young man's eyes. Then: "Thanks, Ciro. You're a pretty good guy. Especially for a Marine." He's kidding. Really. Sort of.
"Yeah, well you've got a good head on your shoulders for a little egg-headed shit. Don't go losing it." Ciro nods, giving Bannik some good, old-fashioned marine style verbal grab-assing. He cracks a grin, waving the man off. "Now get the frak out of my sight and don't you even dare put my name on one of those manifestos."