PHD #316: EVENT - Favor for Favor
Favor for Favor
Summary: What was lost is found. But is it worth the cost to retrieve?
Date: 08 Jan 2042 AE
Related Logs: Enter C-27; The Last Pilgrims to Knossos
Madilyn Richards Samuel Vandenberg Poole Pewter Diesel Hydra 
Insert blasted landscape here
Post-Holocaust Day: #316

It's closing in on 36 hours since CPL Nora Walker, PVT Charles "Chuck" Diesel and medic PO1 Dominic Sabien apparently disappeared into thin air in Caeffyth Township on Tauron. When they last reported in to their Raptor, they were pursuing signs of survivors in the downtown area. Twenty minutes later they went silent, and that's the last anyone has heard of them.

Command granted 48 hours to find them before the now-repaired battlestar and its fellows finally jumped away from Tauron. Twelve hours are left. No sign of them in the area where they last reported in, but finally one of the teams sniffing for clues on the outskirts of town, in a residential housing development that must once have been a nice enough place to live before the worlds ended, found something. One of the sewer grates has been loosened, and there are indications something slipped down it not so long ago.

Major Willows-Cavanaugh herself has been dispatched down to coordinate the search effort, now that something, anything, to go on has been located. It's not, but it's the best chance to recover your personnel before they're declared MIA for good.

Vandenberg is standing near the grate. She's been down here for a few hours now but it wasn't her find. Better believe she was on-scene when it was discovered, though! Runnin like a Chichuahua for the kibble! The woman has kept her gear with her, though, combat blacks and her ruck with her. Ammo, gear, guns, you name it. The scrap-tastic S-Three doesn't do much halfway. She's already clipped her night vision goggles to her helmet and is screwing the suppressor onto the tip of her rifle. "Tywyn's. Damnit," she mutters.

Richards is standing dutifully next to the El-Tee, his expression grave. This is giving him flashbacks to the last mission, one where just about everyone was injured, it a thought that leaves him with ice up and down his spine. "Think it'll turn out better this time," he asks Vandenberg curiously. He doesn't look at her when he does, perhaps too unwilling to see her expression.

Samuel is present as well, looking around a bit thoughtfully at the moment. Humming something very softly to himself now.

Already late to the party, this is the sort of thing Madilyn has a habit of injecting herself into the middle of. If you're going to play shepherd, you have to be willing to, in this case, slog it out through the sewers to find the sheep. Her Raptor was a late arrival, setting down on the planet as fast as the pilots would dare fly, dispatched immediately after the report of the dislodged grate had been found. "The last time we went hunting for missing Marines, it didn't turn out well at all," she comments to Richards, having crunched through the streets all geared up and ready to go sewer diving.

"It better. If I get shot in the damned neck again trying to cover your treatment, I'm going to stick a K-Bar in someone's kidneys." Obviously Vandenberg was happy with the way that one turned out. At Madilyn's approach, the Lieutenant finishes screwing on the suppressor and looks to her. "Major," she greets, sans salute. "This is the grate. We're all ready to go if you are. Team is armed up with NVG's, too. Following your lead." Natalie runs the chamber on her rifle, loading it.

The Major gets saluted by Dick, too, his coming to attention keeping him from responding to Natalie. Despite the silence his own displeasure over how things went is obvious, his expression too sour to be taken for anything otherwise, the fact that the Lieutenant mentioned her being injured as she was protecting the medic patching him up not missed by him.

Samuel salutes as well as he sees and hears the Major present. Otherwise keeping quiet for now as he keeps on looking around. Checking his gear a bit absently as he looks around.

Vandenberg taps the radio speaker on her shoulder and motions to Richards. "Sergeant: Wirelo. I'll back-up in case." She then looks back towards Madilyn. "Sir, we should be okay on comms but never know. If they used a lot of copper wiring in the cabeling underground? We might as well be on Caprica for all the comms we will have. Manhole busting would be our only sporadic check-ins, I think?" She glances to the Major and Sergeant. Urban operations aren't where she cut her teeth. The woman moves over towards the grate and begins opening it. Unless she's stopped, she's going to head on inside.

"Roger, sir." Grumbing, Chris takes the wireless and slings it over a shoulder, settling into his role of comms operator. "Ready to go," he then adds while giving a thumbs-up, indicating that he's geared and good to go.

Samuel keeps silent for a little while longer as he gets ready. "All ready," he offers a bit quietly for now.

"Lieutenant…you in front. I'll go next, then Sergeant Richards. Then Corporal Blaine in the back. I want you to keep an eye out for anything we might miss, as well as keeping our asses clean…got it Corporal? The Raptor I came down on is prepared to sit and aid in communications as well as those you came down on…if nothing else, redundancy could be our friend in this." Madilyn offers Vandenberg no resistance to opening the grate and heading in. "Suppressors on, NVGs at the ready, but then you already knew that," Madilyn smiles wanly to those in the fire team, all the while sliding her rifle around to chamber the first round.

It's not a difficult climb down into the sewers through the access grate. There's a metal 'ladder' of sorts - hand and foot-holds - all the way to the bottom. Inside it is dark, cold and dreary, the sewage tunnel bathed in eerie green light through the lens of your night vision goggles. The smell, in case it needs to be said, is quite horrible.

As you enter, you find yourself in the middle of a 'tunnel' of sorts that was once part of the town of Caeffyth's waste management system. Sludge water still sits in the 'canal' of sorts that runs down the center of the tunnel, but you can navigate it by walking along the concrete 'sidewalk' built parallel to it. Initial wireless checks are fine and clear. You should still be able to chatter from down here with those above, and with Cerberus herself.

"Copy." Natalie slips down the ladder first and makes a wretched face. Thank the Gods its dark. "Good Gods. It smells like Rejn's breath down here," she muses up, whispering. The NVG's are brought down and turned on. As they adjust, she moves a few steps away from the ladder and aims her rifle down both directions in the tunnel, quickly trying to clear the entrance for everyone else. She notices something on the sidewalk at the bottom but doesn't look to identify it just yet. She's busy checking for movement.

"Copy." Natalie slips down the ladder first and makes a wretched face. Thank the Gods its dark. "Good Gods. It smells like Rejn's breath down here," she muses up, whispering. The NVG's are brought down and turned on. As they adjust, she moves a few steps away from the ladder and aims her rifle down both directions in the tunnel, quickly trying to clear the entrance for everyone else. She notices something on the sidewalk at the bottom but doesn't look to identify it just yet. She's busy checking for movement. "Clear," she calls up to the rest of the fireteam.

"Funny…was going to say it smells like…" Richards steps down only to blink the dimness acclimated to as his boots hit dirt. Good thing he's looking down as he does as it allows him to see something in the dirt, bootprints that he almost stepped on which would have ruined them if he had. "We have bootprints here, El-Tee," he announces quietly while pointing at them, trying to get the other's attention.

"Got it, sir," Samuel replies to Madilyn, looking around carefully as the others start to move down the rabbit hole, or ladder. Shaking his head a bit as he looks around, glancing back to the others moving down now. Hopefully not catching commments about the smell for the moment.

Madilyn is careful in descending the ladder; age or something else is catching up to her. Maybe the chill in the air, maybe the chill in the sewer air, maybe something else, but she's none to nimbler and a lot careful in sliding down the ladder. The only pause on the way down is to flip the goggles down, and take sight of her next set of footholds. Back on horozontal ground she cradles her rifle across her body and aids in sweeping the sewers, particularly at Richards' statement. "Bootprints…I see them. Look down El-Tee, right between your legs. Look like they're heading off due…" A quick check of the compass strapped to her tac vest shows N. "…north. Due north there."

Vandenberg doesn't look down until everyone else is down and putting more eyes around the sewer. She adjusts the focus of her goggles and nods. "Copy. Good eyes." Whether that's to Richards or Madilyn isn't clear. Maybe both? The woman, rifle still shouldered, rises from her knee and moves North. One foot in front of the other, each step seems to have a purpose. This is certainly more Vandenberg's speed than the maze of buildings overhead. Tunnel Rat, indeed. When they come around the bend, Natalie hugs the wall and drops into a low crouch. As soon as she see's the figure, though, she stops and drops to a knee. Her left hand lifts sharply in a closed fist - the universal sign for 'Hold'. Then a single finger comes up and points directly ahead so that others know there is one person ahead. Its not the best position for her but she's partially hidden and has her GMAR trained on the woman's chest.

"Oh…frak," Chris hisses; having had his rifle in hand since they fully decended the access ladder means he's able to swiftly thumb the safety off and level the weapon to the woman, something about how he does so seemingly more purpose-filled than he normally does things. "It's Five…" he whispers while putting the very person he's speaking about in his sights, his finger held just before the trigger. He doesn't move, doesn't speak, the man allowing his superiors to decide the next course of action.

Samuel gets down last in the little group, frowning a bit as he sees the figure up ahead. Growling momentarily as he hears the mention of the Five, eyes narrowing slightly, although he doesn't move much more yet.

Between the bend in the sewer and the narrow walkway, getting maximum rifles on target is difficult. The solution? Make a chord or tangential line of fire based on the gentle bend in the sewer. Thank the gods that the runoff has dwindled down to nearly nothing…barely more than boot-high, if a drop. Madilyn takes the opportunity to step off the walkway and into the stuff with as small a splash as is possible, but in the long run, stealth is thrown right out the window. They've already come down here and run com checks, and sound carries relatively unimpeded down here. Suffice it to say, they Cylon probably knows they're coming. Her rifle comes up and finds the target as well. "Cylon, model number Five," she informs the rest of the fire team. "Can anyone get a bead on what that is she's holding?"

"Good day." The husky voice from the woman, standing so casually and regally in the sewer of a Tauron ghost town, is unmistakable. A perfect contralto copy of the one prone to screaming fits in Cerberus' brig. But this voice is composed, and oh-so cold, slightly raised so she can make *sure* those heading down the corridor can hear her. Whether she sees the guns being trained on her is questionable, she appears to be wearing no night vision equipment, but she seems to presume it's a given for whoever's coming this way. "I was wondering when you would arrive. There is no need for violence this day. We each have something the other desires. I am here to propose a trade. Favor for favor." Her fingers caress the whatever-it-is clasped in her fist.

Natalie mouthes it. 'Five'. Fantastic. Always the fives. Model Crazy-Ass. She braces the rifle against the wall and takes a very careful aim on the Cylon's head, ready to drop it with three pounds of pressure to the trigger. Her safety is flicked off. The red dot in her sighting system flickers brightly in the goggles while she waits for a response from Madilyn. Or instructions. Natalie isn't about to speak, though. She slowly shakes her helmet side to side. Not from this angle. The voice gets a short breath from the Marine S-Three but little else.

Richards, upon hearing the Major inquier as to if anyone can see what she's holding, speaks up, his voice taking a slightly authoritive tone which will most likely get him into trouble with the CO and such but he's not really in the mood to follow SOP right now. "Put your hands where we can see them, palms facing forward." Looking towards Vandenberg, he whispers, "One of us should search her before we try to negotiate with the skinjob, El-Tee."

Samuel keeps silent for now, weapons ready in case they should be used. Frowning as he studies the Cylon carefully, for now.

"Do you have a name? Is there something you go by other than Model Five?" Madilyn calls out through the sewer, louder than she speaks to the Marines, and able to be heard clearly without too much of a bouncing echo. The red laser sights of three rifles cut through the musty, stanky air of the sewers, but not Madilyn's. Three should be more than enough, given the Cylon's declaration of making a trade. For the moment, the other Marines are left to hold their position, keeping her in their sights. "I want you to keep your dots on her, but don't fire. Let's hear her out," Madilyn comments to the other Marines.

The Five does raise her hands, but her palms are not opened. "I am not quite sure you want me to do that." She does unclose her fingers from her closed left fist, though her left thumb and index fingers are left clasped on a device she's holding. "I hold the lives of your comrades, and the remaining human refuse we found here, in my hands. But they do not have to die this day…if we can come to an agreement." A pause at Madiyn's question. "A name. Names are human constructs. God knows me. I am Number Five. But among humans upon Leonis I once went by the name Dyora Poole. You may call me that, if you like. And what is your name, and the names of those who accompany you?" Oh-so-civil.

Vandenberg doesn't even seem to hear Richards. She just seems frozen. But there's no way she could have missed the question. Its not until the five opens her hand and makes the view plain that she speaks. "G-Four detonator. Left hand," are the gruff words that leave her.

"Must be a suicide switch," Richards adds, his normally boyish voice gruff, husky for how tense he is. With his weapon still trained on the skinjob, he leaves the social crap to the Major, Dick not really in much of a talkative mood.

Samuel just keeps quiet for now, expression turning a bit more statue-like for now. Waiting to see what's happening now.

"Willows-Cavanaugh, Major, CMC. Blaie, Corporal; Richards, Sergeant; Vandenberg, El-Tee. That's my fire time." That detonator is the main concern, and the indication that it may (or hell, may not) be rigged to take out the other Marines and civvies is too serious to take. This bitch is just that crazy, afterall. "You want a trade…favor for favor. You seem to know what we want; what is it that you want?"

"Madilyn Willows-Cavanaugh. Of Caprica." The Five purrs the name with obvious recognition. "Samuel Blaine. Of Picon." The others she does not appear to know. "We know much of your ship, Willows-Cavanaugh. Do you still hear the cries of your children at night? Do you wonder if they would have survived, had you been there to protect them when the bombs fell?" The question is asked coldly. "You can save the lives of your children, your Marines, today. I want two things. The first. You hold one of my sisters on your ship. We want her returned to us, live and unharmed. Second, we believe you have come into possession of a holy relic that was once in a city called Knossos on this world. It resembles a long 'knife,' the blade carved to look like a lightning bolt. It is an object sacred to the One True God. Tainted by your idolatry, but we wish to reclaim it before we leave this useless world."

Okay, that's a little creepy. At least she doesn't know Natalie. Vandenberg holds her position but shifts the aim of her rifle directly onto the skinjob's ear. From there it should puncture nicely. "I may have a shot at her nervous system," she says. Its barely above a whisper. One round, if it hits, ould kill her before she could hit the switch. If. A miss could kill their friends.

Richards frowns, very glad the bitch didn't know of him like she did some of the others, that being a bit too odd for his comfort. With Van set up for a headshot he aims a bit lower, aiming right for the woman's heart or whatever is closest to it.

Samuel pauses for a few moments as he's mentioned, as well as the colony he used to call home. "Why…" he mutters under his breath, before his eyes narrows again, keeping his attention on the Cylon for now, keeping silent at this point.

Thank the gods for the dark there in the sewer. The Cylon's words bring a look to Madilyn's face that, should the machine see, she would realize cut very, very deep. "You have NO right to talk about my children, you frakking monster!" the Major barks out. Previously held at her chest, her rifle now is brought up…and the Cylon is made very sure that the red dot is right between her eyes. "We may be able to arrange a trade…your abomination for my Marines and the other humans. I can't guarantee the condition of either your sister or the relic, even if command agrees to your terms…" The whole while Madilyn is scooting toward Vandenberg, letting the sight go out on her rifle - the gesture was impotent anyway.

"We did not begin this war, Madilyn Willows-Cavanaugh, as those aboard that monster your battlegroup now flies with can attest," the Five says coldly. "But by God's mercy we struck before we could be struck, and by God's grace we struck well and true. This is a useless world now. Let us conclude our business here so we can depart it. You have heard my terms. Favor for favor, life for life. Speak with your command, then. I am in no hurry."

"Eeaaasy, Mad," Van whispers gently. That rifle is perched nicely on a ridge of cinderblock in the tunnel's curve, the barrel just able to swivel on its own when lightly held in place by her hands. The dot in her sights moves ever so slightly when the Cylon does, the reticule on her ear at this angle. Controlled breathing. Innnnn through the nose, hold half a second, out through the mouth. Her finger caresses that trigger just in case the order comes.

"Gonna get the old man on the radio," Richards announces while taking to a knee, his rifle set across his thigh when he begins the process of doing that. Once the ship is gotten ahold of he begins to talk, his voice just loud enough to be picked up by the wirely and possibly not much else.

[TAC1] "Dick" Richards says, "Cerberus Actual, this is Dog One Actual. We have a situation on our hands that requires advisement, over."

[TAC1] "Gravel" Pewter says, "This is Pewter. Advise, One-Actual."

Samuel keeps on watching the Cylon for now, expression quite stony. For those that might see him more closely, it would seem that he's almost biting his lip now.

"You heard the situation, Sergeant. Advise Cerberus Actual of the situation. Make it clear to him that this Five claims to have our missing people and a detonator - though we have no proof…" Madilyn hisses in the Cylon's direction. "…and what she wants in exchange for their lives." Madilyn makes sure she's loud enough for the Five to hear, so that there's a fair, if slightly pissed, negotiation being made on her part.

As for the Five who calls herself Dyora Poole, she merely waits. Finger on the trigger, as it were. "Proof." This gets a laugh. "Skepticism is a dangerous folly, Madilyn Willows-Cavanaugh. The hand of God is upon me today. Be careful that I do not call forth his wrath."

[TAC1] "Dick" Richards says, "Actual, this is Dick. We are on a search and rescue and have happened upon one of the cylons we know as Five down here. She claims to know the where abouts of our missing people and seems willing to negotiate for their lives. She says she wants us to return her sister to her as well as a knife-like relic once found in Knossos, over."

[TAC1] (from "Gravel" Pewter) There's a momentary pause as Pewter weighs his options. Then, his booming voice steady: "Pewter. Do y'all have confirmation our away team is alive?"

Richards looks at the CO and then across the way to where Five stands, his eyes narrowed behind his NVGs. "Actual wants to know if we have proof, sir." An important piece of data, that. Lowering his voice, he speaks into the handset.

Richards clarifies, "Proof that our men are alive, I mean."

[TAC1] "Dick" Richards says, "Actual, one moment, please."

Samuel keeps silent for now, watching carefully. Nodding a bit at the mention of proof.

"Did you hear that, Five? We don't operate on threats, promises, and best wishes. You know we have what you want. We don't know shit about what you claim to have." Madilyn swallows heavily, knowing exactly what the consequences of this may wind up being. "If we're going to operate on a fair trade, we need to know that you have what you're telling us you possess. Prove that to us, and our commanding officer may be willing to deal."

"Do you wish to speak with your charges? I can manage that. If your men will not shoot me, I shall have my Centurions allow them to speak via wireless." Her non-detonator hand lowers to toward her belt. Slowly. She is not actually trying to get herself shot. But there's a hand-held wireless unit there she'll give over to the Marines if allowed.

"Absolutely I want to speak with one of them. We're not going to shoot you…" Madilyn says to the Cylon. The 'yet' at the end of the sentence goes unsaid, unless the Cylon is very good at interpreting tone. The Marine CO is not particularly willing to deal with Cylon bullshit, not after what was said. "Marines, you heard what she said…wireless unit there on her belt. She's reaching for it. Hold your fire." But keep your eyes on that other hand; hopefully the Marines know that without being told.

[TAC1] "Gravel" Pewter says, "One-Actual, Gravel. It's been more than a moment. Status."

The Marine S-Three isn't making any motion to move. She's been frozen in her position since they spotted the Five. Even with the radio traffic, her eyes are completely focused on the Cylon's head.

The Five retrieves her wireless, fiddling with it deftly with one hand and activating it. «They wish to speak with the creatures we hold,» she says in her throaty give. «Let the young one talk.» And so they will. She sets the wirless on the ground and kicks it toward them. The channel is open to whichever of the Marines wants to grab it, to gab as they will.

[TAC1] "Dick" Richards says, "Actual, Dog Actual. We're still waiting for comfirmation, over."

Samuel pauses for a few moments as he sees the wireless being kicked. Looking between the others for a few moments, he ducks down a bit to pick it up, then glancing back towards the officers. Looking back towards the wireless, he speaks into it. "Hello. Can you hear me?"

Madilyn doesn't wait for any other confirmation from the radio; either that reall is Diesel, or those Cylons are doing a damn good job of falsifying and inimtating. New trick for them, if that is indeed the case. Sorry Richards, but Madilyn needs the radio; the transmitted is snatched from his hands and the Marine CO immediately begins transmitting.

[TAC1] Madilyn says, "Cerberus Actual, this is Bravo Actual. Initial wireless contacts indicate that at least one of my Marines is still alive…captive, but alive. Advise on potential trade, over."

"Yes, it's me," Samuel offers back into the wireless. "We'll see if we can get you guys out of there, Chuck. Hang on there, okay?" Turning to look to the others, nodding a bit as he hears what Madilyn says.

[TAC1] "Gravel" Pewter says, "One Marine." Pewter's voice has turned rigid with taut anger. "And the rest of our boys?"

The Five, for her parts, just waits. A pillar of detonator-holding patience. "God sometimes demands a sacrifice, Madilyn Willows-Cavanaugh of Caprica," she says, throaty voiced filled with righteousness. "But He knows mercy some days."

Vandenberg, silent almost the entire time finally moves. Though her helmet stays firmly in place with the laser, Its only her jaw and mind that are moving. "Miss Poole, quick question while we're hanging around not needing to shoot each other," she calls up just loud enough to be heard. "Our Five that we have held prisoner. She's cute. Very friendly. Likes to talk to us. If our religion is such an abonination, then why bother?" Test the waters. Natalie's fingers still hold the rifle nicely in position.

Richards looks at the CO after she snatches the radio's receiver out of his hand, it getting a faint sneer to tweak his mouth a bit. "Have at, Major," he whispers in a tone that is almost subordinate, his annoyance just held in check. Getting up, Madilyn's allowed to take up the coms detail fully, he instead going back to what he was doing before, that being keeping an eye on Five.

The response to that from Vandenberg is a death-glare from the Five. "Cute, rodent? Such ignorance. It is is a pity we did not do a more…complete job on our extermination of your race. But. God works in mysterious ways. Your 'religion'…" She spits. "…is a blasphemy. You know nothing of the truth of the One True God and have polluted His creations. But there were things forgotten here. His things. We see that now. They are or no use to you."

[TAC1] Madilyn says, "Private Diesel is reporting that they're alright. Our three Marines, plus civilians." Madilyn's voice is likely to convey to Pewter that it all seems on the up-and-up, as much as dealing with a Cylon can be. "Just how important is this prisoner and this relic, Colonel?""

Vandenberg chuckles. "Non gratum anus rodentum, ma'am." She smiles behind her NVG's. "Indeed God, or Gods, do." At least the Lieutenant seems conversational. "Anyway, getting to my question:" She clears her throat. "Find that path yet?" Natalie is watching these responses -very- closely, floating that red dot in her sights right over the ear.

"God." The correction is short, harsh and distinctly unfriendly from the Five to Vandenberg. Her left hand on the detonator seems to tighten. If one is looking particularly closely in the green-hued night vision light, one could see her nostrils flare. "I see the path before me. God guides my way. In all things, little rodent, we are the hands of God."

"Sir…" Richards intones to Vandenberg, sounding worried. He knows very little of Five's history with any of the others and he's conerned that she'll get herself hurt or killed if she goes too far.

Samuel nods a little bit as he hears that, "We don't know yet. Still working on it." Frowning as he looks over at the Five now.

[TAC1] "Gravel" Pewter says, "Important enough, Bravo Actual, that they'd lead y'all through this song 'n' frakkin' dance." Pewter's not pleased at having to make the call — but it takes him only a split second to make it. "We get 'em all back, Major. Alive, dead, half-dead, a quarter-dead, however the Cylons made 'em. And we get 'em clean. Y'all make ready the details. I'll notify y'all's XO to gift-wrap y'all's package."

Vandenberg falls silent, the smile behind her NVG's growing into a little snarl. The LT asides to Madilyn: "She's got no frakkin' clue, sir. They need this Five to complete the puzzle of their path to finding some kind of home I think. Something they believe their God is telling them." Its barely even audible to the other Marines, let alone the Five. Other than that, she falls silent. The smile is still on her face, the woman a complete stone.

"So long as that home is far, far frakking away from our home…give the bitch what she wants. Or CO agrees to your terms…we just need to know where an exchange is to be made. We're willing to exchange the relic and the prisoner for all captives, military and civilian." The wireless receiver is placed back on the transmitter as Madilyn communicates to the Five. Vandenberg's prodding is not given much cause for concern because Madilyn doesn't much care if the Cylon is getting flustered. "We'll need a moment to coordinate, but tentatively, we agree to your terms." Richards, being close, hears the next instructions, whispered "Get ahold of a radio tech in CIC, one of our Raptors…anyone. I want that signal traced, if it's even remotely possible."

"We can deliver your people to the museum is Knossos, as befits," the Five replies. "I shall have them brought there in a Heavy Raider, which shall be waiting in front of it. Do make certain your planes do not trifle when it when it shows itself, or there shall be no exchange made." No actual location as to where they are *now* is provided.

Samuel keeps quiet now, just listening to what's being said at the moment.

"Are we going to move back out, or…" Richards is a bit flumoxed, thrown off of his game thanks to having it disrupted when the Major snagged the wireless from him, leaving him rather askewed.

"You heard what I said. Command has agreed to terms." Samuel, still having the wireless, and being closer to Van than herself and Richards is Madilyn's first stop. "When are we going to make this exchange?" There's a clock in the back of Madilyn's head for when the fleet is planning to jump, and she'd like to do this with enough of a cushion to allow for any other operations.

"At your convenience. God is our timekeeper, Madilyn Willows-Cavanaugh," replies the Five, though there is now a note of impatience in her tone. "But there is little point in lingering here overlong."

Samuel nods a little bit as he hears that. "Looks like we're able to get you out of there soon," he offers into the wireless. Otherwise keeping silent for now.

"Alright Marines. You heard the plan. We're going to give them what they want so that we can get our people back. Five: the exchange will be made in 12 hours. Museum at Knossos." The wireless is not so much slid back to the Cylon as it is tossed, whether it shatters or not, it's none of Madilyn's concern. "You'll have your relic and your sister…and we'll have our brothers and sisters back."

"Favor for favor, Madilyn Willows-Cavanaugh. I shall see your children delivered, God willing." And, unmolested, the Five will fade back into the depths of the sewers to prepare to make this exchange go down.

And the Heavy Raider is at the appointed place, at the appointed time. The Model Five knowns as Dyora Poole gets her hands around the relic before she trots the hostages out. It seems almost more of a concern then the delivery of her 'sister' from the brig. Once both are loaded on, the hostages are released. The Marines show signs of abuse by the Cylons but are alive. The Cerberus does warm her guns to try and take out the Heavy Raider once its personnel scuttle but, as it does not actually want to bomb its own people, that comes a bit too late. Dyora Poole leaves Tauron with her favor granted, and the Cerberus jumps away with its personnel whole. No blood shed, and only a crazed, useless skinjob and dusty old museum piece was the cost. Those counting today could call it a win by most estimations.

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