| Desperately Seeking Solon |
| Summary: | Several people aboard the Cerberus are interviewed regarding a Gemenese priest. |
| Date: | 22 Apr 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | None |
| Players: |
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Topic Markers: Aurelia | Megan | Cidra
| Chapel - Deck 9 |
|---|
| The hatchway opens into a dimly lit corridor, stark grey walls now and again painted with some mural appropriate to the religious season, stretching from floor to ceiling and then sloping down away from the ceiling in two triangular forms that bracket off the tiered seating areas to either side. Straight ahead, in the center of an open space, stands a simple rectangular altar, the emblems of the Lords thereupon arrayed to receive sacrifice in the tall room when the altar isn't decked for some more specific use. Hestia, who is not vouchsafed her own emblem on the altar, is etched in relief on one side of the altar itself, shown tending the hearth in her usual fashion. In the wall behind the open area are three evenly spaced hatchways which can only be opened and closed from the inside. The small cubicles behind each hatchway are each furnished with a small altar against the back wall, upon which sometimes the dark shape of a sacred object can be discerned even from the tiered seating for visiting on the sacral days. The hatches can be closed to block out profane eyes from rites they were not meant to see. The walls between each little cubicle can be retracted to create a larger space for more well-attended mysteries. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #420 |
Aurelia sits in quiet prayer. It's not exactly the the most inviting thing, but the young woman's focused, staring intently at what might be best suggested as the goddesses emblems. Aurelia seems almost lost, her lips moving silently. Her hands upturned in empty offering and extended before her.
Constin approaches the chapel with stiff strides. Dressed in his duty tans, the only skin visible is that of his hands, neck and face, and even these show a few fresh scars in among the old as he turns his blue regard over those present in the chapel. He draws a short stack of photograps out of his chest pocket and flips through a couple, before comparing one to the praying Aurelia. A long glance between the two before starting toward her. "Miss Aurelia Caecilia?" he greets evenly.
Aurelia turns at the sound of her name. Her eyes momentarily glazed as she blinks a few times. "Yes?" She steps away from her prayer and stretches carefully. "How can I help you, sir?" she smiles, with a polite head tilt to the side.
Constin forces a smile that was probably intended to be reassuring, but it doesnt sit well on the big man's face. "I'm Gunnery Sergeant Constin, the boat's Master at Arms. If you can spare a few minutes from.." he gestures to the altar in a moment of silence. "…this? I would appreciate a few words with you, ma'am."
Aurelia nods. "Sure. I'd just finished anyway." she exhales. "What could I help you with?" she steps towards the doors of chapel to make sure they weren't obstructing anyone. "I mean what could you want from me?"
Constin returns as the two turn their footfalls toward the door, "I'm given to understand that you may be familiar with a man by the name of Solon, ma'am?" The small stack of photographs produces a picture of the man in question who wears priest's garments.
Aurelia nods slowly "Ahh yeah… though its a vauge recollection." she thinks and speaks slowly. "Temple of Aphroditie Pandemos, Gemenon?" she begins softly, licking her lips, in thought. " He wrote some stuff on the location of people in relation to the Gods, I remember because I read some stuff on that out of curiousity… why?"
Constin doesn;t confirm or deny Aurelia's recollections, instead returning the dozen or so photos to his breast pocket, and drawing out a notepad, to jot down notes. "He is an individual we are interested in learning more about, ma'am. Do you happen to recall either the name of the book, or what his views were on 'people in relation to the Gods'?" If not for his lowbrow drawl, Constin's words might sound downright polished.
Aurelia nods slowly. "I think so, it was a post modern view of religious text Probably about how we're.. to make our own destiny. I distinctly remember it being a discourse bout the preoccupation with the Fates, with ones Morai how it cannot be… controled… but its been a bit. It focused on.. taking apart myth and the Sacred scrolls. " she growls. " I skimmed it ."
"With one's what?" Constin queries afterward, frowning at the unfamiliar word 'morai' with pen hovering over pad, mid-scrawl. "Can you spell 'more-eye' for me, ma'am?" Someone isn't up to date on his theoretical theology. The other words on the pad (scratched out in a small, heavy handed scrawl) are 'post-modern', 'own destiny', 'Fates' and 'deconstructing scrolls'.
Aurelia nods ."Morai, m-o-r-a-i.. it means fate, destiny.. their future.. Some people think that we're on a path and that its set… you can neither change it… nor veer from it. Some people thing you can choose."
Constin grunts once with a nod as Aurelia obliges him with the spelling, writing the word down and following it with 'not controlled', nodding again as narrow lue eyes go from pad to civilian. "You a religion student, ma'am?" he wonders, afterward.
Aurelia shakes her head no, the dark hair she has leaving a trail. "No not at all, I am actually a medical student, sir. But I do have an interest in theology."
"What is your colony of origin, and from where did you come aboard the Cerberus, ma'am?" Constin wonders next, regarding the woman at her reply with a slowly drawn breath. "And, if you don't mind saying- though you are free to refuse-" he adds, with the tone of a legally mandated caveat, "What is your religious view of everything, these days?"
Aurelia says, "Caprica, and I came on board when .. the ship came to… to.. Tauron." She falls quiet. "My religious views these days. People make their own choices, the gods are watching but they're not going to make giant sign posts that say 'Go here' . That'd be too easy.""
Constin nods once, jotting down 'Cap', before turning his eye back up to fix upon Aurelia's as the civilian goes on. "Do you think these are the end times, ma'am?" the big marine prompts, evenly. In much the same manner he'd ask 'Do you know what six times seven is?'.
Aurelia says, "No. At least not in the end of the world. Perhaps it just the way for us to move on. We were… stuck perhaps. I mean when the colonies were settled, what happened.. infighting, perhaps it was time to move us along. You can only live in one city for so long… perhaps it was our time to be on a ship and traveling to some place new. To test us, to make sure we've not grown… soft or week or dependant.""
Aurelia says, "Or maybe… were just small grands of sand, being pushed about on a beach.""
"Don't imagine this Solon fella would have agreed with that last bit, ma'am," Constin returns, with a wry twist to his tone. "Anyhow, I'm obliged for your cooperation in this, ma'am. If you should recall anything else you think might be of value, you can report it to the Master-at-Arms, through the Security Hub."
Aurelia nods. "Well I think its more that we're complicted. People are part of communities and everyones an individual. There is nothing like us…. I mean in the animal kingdom. All creatures follow their grouping.. humans as far as we know… are individuals but in a different way.."
"I'd make an even worse vetrinarian than I would a philosopher, ma'am," Constin drawls in reply. "That's all I had to discuss with you, for now. Again, I'm obliged for your cooperation."
Aurelia nods. "So on another note, who would one talk to about… getting into the military?" she questions quietly. "Well with the medical department.. "
Constin pauses in his intended leave-taking at the question. "Well, ma'am. You would first submit your qualifications and experience to the Medical division office on Deck Ten. You can expect to be called in for a couple screening interviews if they like twhat they see. That's where it starts, ma'am."
Aurelia nods. "Thank you." she says. "Maybe sometime… we can have drink?" she questions softly.
Constin nods once, curtly, to the thanks. The second quiet question is met with a moment's pause. He settles on, "I ain't too social, ma'am," before adding, "Good luck with your application."
…
| Observation Deck - Deck 3 |
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| 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 crew members 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. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #420 |
Constin enters the deck looking for someone. The big marine wears his duty tans, and the determined frown that often accompanies them as he studies a small photograph in his hand.
With a pensive look upon her face, Megan is seated in one of the couches with the heels of her boots tucked on the edge of the cushion and arms wrapped around her knees. Her chin rests on her forearms as she stares out at the view offered by the large windows, a file folder is fastened to a clip board at her side, the cover secured though obviously handled enough times for it to be a bit wrinkled around the edges at this point.
Constin looks up from the photograph to pass a slow stare around the Observation Deck. The slow motion ends when his eye settles on the seated Megan. Flipping through another few photographs, the big marine's bootsteps carry him toward the officer, whom he greets evenly, "Lieutenant Megan Amosi?"
Megan jumps slightly, her attention snapping back from the distracted contemplation of the view to the reality of the marine suddenly standing in front of her. She unfolds her arms and rubs her hands along the knees of her trousers as she nods, "I am, yes," is said in return, even nodding to reinforce the identification. "Can I help you, um," and her eyes fasten on the rank pins long enough to make it clear she's trying to remember what each of the pins mean and quite probably not remembering precisely, "ahh…?"
"Gunnery Sergeant Constin, sir," the scarred soldier names himself at the pause. "I'm this boat's Master-at-Arms. I'm looking into a certain individual and I'm given to understand you might be able to assist." Drawing a fresh breath in through the nose, he shows the jumpy Megan a photograph of a man in priestly vestment. "Are you familiar with a 'Brother Solon', sir?"
Megan nods again, fixing the rank pins to memory now with the right words even as her gaze drops to the photograph and studies it, but the answer is stamped rather obviously upon her face. "Of course," she says promptly, "That's Brother Solon, he's one of the high ranking priests of the Temple of Aprhodite Pandemos," another nod is given to accompany the words she speaks. "That's the one near Lampridis, I mean. My father is-" and she stops then pushes on, because everyone has their own 'is/was' issues to say, "was a theology professor at the Kobol College, Theology department, I recognize the name and the face from dinner table talk and such."
Constin nods at the font of recognition that springs from Megan, tucking the small stack of photographs into his breast pocket and pulling out a notepad, glancing up to keep eye contact as often as possible throughout the Lieutenant's answer. "Can you provide your father's name and summarize for me what sort of interactions you and your father had with this man, sir?"
Megan is either one of those people who has a glass face and therefore every expression is just that easy to read, or she has a lousy poker face, but it's a mix of confusion and wariness. "My father? He's.. they're dead. What does it matter what his name was?" is asked in a quiet voice before she stops and literally scrubs both of her hands across her face and sighs. "Sorry. I mean, okay. Doctor Daniel Amosi, Professor of Theology. Um," she draws a slow breath of her own, expression pensive now, "interaction wise? They were of a field. As much as any member of any religious caste or calling is a member of the theological field. My father was a teacher, not a.. a priest. There's a difference, I mean."
"Thank you, sir," Constin offers evenly as Megan gets around to answering the question. He doesn't offer comment on her hesitation of the moment taken for composure. The name of 'doctor Daniel' gets scribbled down in the marine's small, heavy handed scrawl. A wordless grunt and nod as Megan outlines the distinction between priest and theologian. Another note is taken. "Do you happen to recall anything distinctive about this priest's theology, sir? As it agreed with or differed from that of Doctor Amosi's?"
"You must understand," Megan begins aloud in that same quiet voice, "that any theological discussion in any .. any reasonable atmosphere is anything but serene or.. or quiet. It's generally lively. And by lively I can mean anything from open handed dialogue to shouting at the top of their lungs. Put a priest or theologian from any three gods you want to pick from and lock them in a room and there will be shouting and .. and hand waving within a half hour. If not less," she adds with a shrug. "Get two members of a religious order - different orders, that is - to agree upon the time of day and it'll only be because they have nothing else to argue over. Master Sergeant, why does it matter, now?"
Constin sniffs dryly, in something very near humor at Megan's description of religious discussions getting animated. "Been told that the two surest ways to piss folk off is to talk gods and Politics," he drawls, bone-dry in tone. "It's Gunnery Sergeant, sir," he corrects her address evenly, before adding, "And I assure you, it is relevant. I'm less concerned with the volume of conversations than the substance, as best you can recall it."
Megan rubs her hands against her trousers again before she rises to her feet, "Do you mind if I..?" she asks as she gestures to the open space and indicates with the gesture the need to move as she thinks. Which she promptly does, beginning to pace slowly back and forth as she drums up enough of snippets of memory and dinner conversation. "Alright. I can tell you that the views of Brother Solon were, in comparison, were very controversial, even for a professor of theology and one who expressed the belief that comparative theology and the understanding thereof was one of the best ways to reach an understanding with mankind in general. Respect, I mean. You can't get what you don't give. But that Solon's writings, his papers i mean, questioned traditions that were - are - central to Gemanese belief and core tenants. He challenged the words of the Sacred Scrolls, seeking to cast doubt on some of the prominent myths and legends of the teachings. It was controversial, and I know I've said that already. But," and she rubs at her temples lightly with her fingertips, "Solon cast a rock into the pond, if you'll follow the metaphor. The rock was small but the ripples weren't."
Constin can't afford the politeness of eye contact as Megan gets going, He nods twice as she asks to move around, then gets to writing furiously as the keg of knowledge is tapped. A few muttered words under his breath as he writes, flipping quickly to a fresh page. "…controversial.." Another nod as she gets to the rock and ripple metaphor. "What sort of relationship did Solon advocate between people and the Gods, sir?" he prompts a moment later.
"I remember the words 'Free will' being used as challenge against the dictates of the Fates, which is to argue the notion that our lives are pre-determined by the will of the fates instead of being determined by free will - that being simply that you make your own future, your own fate, by your own deeds and choices. There we protests, outside the temple, I mean, crowds carrying signs and shouting and milling around," Megan looks back to the Gunnery Sergeant, "it caused quite a stir."
Constin nods at three points throughout Megan's answer, glancing up from his rapid note taking to meet the officer's eye and nod at that last. "Would imagine so, sir. Was Solon ever accused outright of heresy, to your knowledge?" A moment later, a thought strikes, and he adds, "What did Doctor Amosi think of Solon's notions?"
"I don't know," Megan admits, "I mean, if he was accused of such, I have no knowledge of it. My father was a teacher, like I said, and a member of the Theological community. But to accuse a priest of heresy is one thing, to actually be brought to any kind of religious conclave and or any kind of tribunal or called for religious censure? That would have been a formal and internal matter of the church, no matter what is said for public consumption or fanfare, the actual day to day business of the church is contained within the church. My father was troubled by Solon's notions, but I can't say if it was for any specific reason or another."
"Huh," Constin grunts with a nod. "Understood. Are you aware of how popular Solon's ideas were, sir? In the.. thelogical circles." He frowns, as the word 'theological' came out all wrong and his ear caught the difference, but otherwise, he's back to eyeing the notepad and preparing to write.
Megan has to shake her head finally, "No, and I'm sorry. The last couple years of my internship kept me away from family dinners more than I would have liked, in retrospect. I would have to guess at that question, and I won't do that. You don't need guesses at something like this, that's my read on it at least. May I ask why all of this is so important? I understand that Brother Solon was in some video clip.. with one of the Elevens," and her fingers twitch faintly with the recollection of having just dissected one herself. "Were there other priests, I mean, other's in the images?"
Constin nods again, confirming Megan's observation regarding guesses. As for the repeated question of 'why', the big sergeant draws a breath in through the nose, before voicing, "It is of interest to Command to puzzle out how this fella's religion might interact with Cylon monotheism, sir. That's all I can volunteer at this point, unless you are cleared by Captain Nikephoros, sir."
"Ahh, I see," Megan says with a slow nod to accompany her words again. "I know it's stupid, and I'm sorry. Of all the people on Gemenon, why would I know anyone who would have been in the video, it's just stupid hope, that's all. I'm sorry," is added as she tucks her hands into her pockets and glances away. "I don't know if I've helped at all, but if I can think of anything useful I'll bring it to your attention."
Constin draws another slow breath, expression remaining set into the stern demi-frown that typically occupies his face. "Whereabouts on Gemenon are you from, Lieutenant?" he asks after a long instant of silence. A breath later he adds, "What you have shared is certainly valuable, sir. I'm much obliged for your cooperation in this matter."
Megan shakes her head slightly as she lists the city that she's from, explaining, ".. as both of my parents were professors at the college that's where they met, after all, as students and that's where I grew up as well." She gives a wry glimpse of a smile, "I practically grew up in the lecture halls and on the college green. If you're asking if I've been to or really from Lampridis? No. I know where it is, but it's really just a tourist town, campers and hikers go there, there's no real cultural focus or major industry or job market."
"Huh, frakking tourists," Constin grunts dryly to the notion of Lampridis as a tourist spot. "Well, sir. Once again, I'm obliged for your cooperation. And should you recall anything else that think might be useful, you can contact me through the Security Hub."
"Heh, Tourists. Walking accidents, waiting to happen," Megan agrees with another trace of a smile, "walking, biking, gliding, sailing, you name it, it's bound to happen one way or another. Security hub, got it. Glad to be assistance," she adds with another nod, "and," this time a small shrug that conveys a bit of humor is given, "if you need me, I'll be in the sick bay."
A short, bullish snort of an exhale punctuates her litany of the ills of tourists. To the officer's latter words, Constin volleys back, "Hoping not to be needing the sickbay again for a good long while, sir." One last nod and a salute in parting. "Lieutenant."
…
| CAG's Office - Deck 10 |
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| Though it's not much bigger than the average ship supply closet, the office of the commander of Cerberus' air group has as much luxury as one can hope for aboard a battlestar: privacy. It is dominated by a blocky gray metal desk straight out of standard Navy supply with an equally standard-issue rolling chair behind it. A few other chairs are shoved against one wall, for those who drop by for whatever business they have with the CAG. The surface of the desk is covered by a computer and stacks of files and octagonal papers covering whatever bit of aerial bureaucracy she's mussing with that day. A few heavy books on air mechanics - mostly devoted to Raptors - occupy the shelves. The room is largely devoid of decoration, save one item hanging on a hook on the shelf direct above her desk: a set of prayer beads, well-worn olive wood and strung with a single, crudely-carved owl charm. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #420 |
A meeting with the Master at Arms, while not unpleasant, is never a thing that's precisely good news for the CAG. Yet Cidra awaits him without too much dread. She sits at her desk, hatch slightly ajar and smoking, as she is wont to be.
A double rap on the CAG's door announces the arrival of the scheduled visitor. "Sir," the big man offers in greeting, as he pulls the hatch more fully open a moment later to enable entry.
Cidra rises at the double rap. She sets her cigarette down but does not put it out, perhaps having some to assume the smoke won't bother the MaA. "Ah. Gunnery Sergeant. I would ask what brings you to my door again, but I see many matters of which it might be. Come in, please."
"Thank you, Colonel," Constin returns, forcing a wry twist to his lip at the mention of 'many matters'. "Yeah. Quite. Of all those 'many matters', I've got two, just now." Stepping into the office proper, he notes, "Are you aware of the present status of Midshipman David Wright, sir?"
It takes Cidra a beat to respond to the rank of 'Colonel.' A low "Heh" escapes her as she sits again. "Two I can manager better. Mister Wright? I am aware a little, not so much as I likely should be, but these last days have been hectic. I was informed he was taken into custody for siding with those who came to Commander Kepner's sick cause during the madness of April the Fifteenth. I pray you bring me an explanation for this, as it troubles me greatly."
"I do, sir," Constin nods to her 'prayer', taking a seat facing the CAG once she has seated herself. "Midshipman Wright has expressed his belief that Kepner's message of taking the fight to the cylons was something he believed. Continues to, in fact," the big marine adds, his stoicism colored with a terse edge. "As it stands now, we believe he was recruited by Areion Petty Officer First Class Linney Petran, to act as a lookout for the Cerberus mutineers in their sabotage efforts. He failed in this task, however at this point we have no reason to believe this was a deliberate failure."
Cidra's mouth settles into a slim frown. Expression inscrutable, though there's a definite cloud of disappointment over it. "I see. What do you recommend, Gunnery Sergeant?"
"Given that Wright claims ignorance of the objective of the mutineers, and interrogations of the other mutineers haven't disproven the claim, we don't have grounds for a treason charge at this time. I would advise a court martial to review Wright's record, charged with Gross Negligence, sir," is Constin's flat voiced answer. "Maximum sentence for such a charge would be a dishonorable discharge and prison time, if convicted."
Cidra nods to that. "I would like to speak with him myself before I decide upon the matter. He has some promise as a pilot, and such a charge at this juncture would throw his career away entirely. Though a as he colluded with the mutineers, I see little recourse for him at present. Idiot boy!" It's hissed with great frustration. And, again, that sharp edge of disappointment. She takes a moment to smoke. "I shall have a decision upon it within seventy-two hours. You spoke of a second matter?"
"Yes, Colonel, that can be arranged at your convenience," Constin returns to the initial request. There is no sympathy in the marine's face at the mention of Wright's lost career. "As Wright's matter is considered part of the larger mutiny, which has not yet been resolved by the Jag's office, you have more than seventy-two hours, sir." A nod at the second matter. "I've been instructed to investigate a Gemenese priest by the name of Solon. One of the higher ranking priests of a sect of Aphrodite, who had some.. very controversial views on the role of human destiny. Are you familiar with this fella?"
"I am, come to it," Cidra replies. "Though it is for me a distant memory now, and my knowledge of him is by reputation rather than personal. I have told you I think that before I joined the Navy I did study Theology at the Colleges of Kobol on Gemenon. To be a priestess of Athena was to be my path." Another short "Heh." "Brother Solon was a sworn member of the order of Aphrodite. Never a goddess whose rituals drew me overmuch. But he was a figure of some controversy on Gemenon, and garnered some publicity at one time in religious circles."
"Yeah you have, sir." Constin nods to the CAG's prior priestly intentions. The notion threatens to bring a near-grin to the MaA's lip. "Were you familiar with a Doctor Daniel Amosi at the Kobol Colleges, by any chance?" he wonders idly, before remembering to draw out his notepad, to make certain any relevant information isn't forgotten.
"In passing. He was a professor in the Theology department at the Colleges, though I did not study under him myself," Cidra replies. "I do not recall much of the man specifically, though I know many of the academics were attracted to Solon's…liberalized views." There's a level tone of disapproval in her voice at the word 'liberalized.' "Solon was a member of the Temple of Aphrodite Pandemos near the town of Lampridis. One of the 'new' generation of temple leaders there. He wrote some rather incendiary papers, concerning 'recapturing free will' and 'deconstruction of myths.'" Her disapproval only grows more apparent. "He managed to get the attention of off-world media when there were some protests outside his temple and he went on a year or two ago about leaving the priesthood. But little came of that when the reporters went away."
"Doctor Amosi's daughter is a Lieutenant in the Medical division," the MaA notes idly, before narrowing his eyes at the newly minted Lt. Colonel's recounting. "Are you aware of whether this fella was ever accused of heresy, sir?" he wonders, before adding another query, "This Solon have much by way of a following, after the press lost interest?"
"Ah." Cidra's brows arch. "The name does sound familiar, but I confess I had not put the two together. I shall have to speak to Doctor Amosi at some point." As to the last question, she frowns. "Not to my recollection, though I have spent these last more than fifteen years off-world. Some of his papers I suspect got him a close a few times, and would have been even more of a problem were he in the service of another of the Lords. Aphrodite has a wide tolerance for…liberalness." To the latter, a shrug. "For the size of his flock, I cannot speak. I have been a long time gone from my homeworld, Gunnery Sergeant." A note of sadness in her voice that she can't quite conceal.
"So say we all, sir," Constin voices slowly on the heels of Cidra's 'long time gone from home' words. A short exhale. "Figure I can chew up the Chaplain's time with some of the rest of this, Colonel Hahn. But I'm obliged to you for the words."
"Much obliged as ever, Gunnery Sergeant. Clear eyes and steady hands in your work." It serves as a 'Dismissed', apparently. Cidra lights another cigarette.