| Getting Things Done |
| Summary: | The similarly-named Navy and Marine Intelligence leads discuss certain on-going investigations, and the next steps required to make progress on them. |
| Date: | 1 October 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | Cylon-lover attacks, skinjob sabotage, IIG |
| Players: |
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| S2's Office |
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| It's an office off the Security Hub! |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #217 |
It's mid-day aboard the Cerberus and as a result, the Security Hub is a bustle of activity with marines come and going from all directions. Off to one side of the hub, a single doorway leads into the Master-at-Arm' office, an office in which Corrath has taken to using quite frequently. Standing in the doorway is a Sergeant who seemingly finishes giving a report, for after a moment he's offering a 'Yes Sir' and then turning on toe and heel to move back to one of the duty stations. Within the office, Corrath is seated behind the desk, ashtray in front of him and a fresh smoke hanging from between his lips as he looks over a series of reports that are stacked before him.
Cora raps her knuckles on the open door once the sergeant has moved away, stepping in to lean a shoulder on the doorjamb. "O'Hare," she greets the marine lieutenant, "Do you have some time? I come bearing gifts," she adds as further enticement, a cloth bag lifted and dangled, tempting in its mystery.
Eyes lift from the reports long enough to settle upon Cora for a moment before Corrath is lifting a hand and motioning her inside, "For you, Captain? I suppose I can spare a -few- minutes." Lips curve into a quick smile before he's pushing the stack of papers to the side, leaning back in the chair and lifting a hand to snag the cigarette from between his lips. "If this so called gift is paperwork, I'm going to vastly disappointed."
Cora steps in and shuts the door behind her, clicking her tongue at his warning. "Come on, now, you know me better than that," she replies, "The favor is paper—actually, no," she stops herself and shakes her head, "No, there is actually no paperwork at all that I'm requesting," she tells him with a smile, helping herself to a seat and setting the bag down on the floor. From it she pulls a carton of cigarettes, a better brand than the military rations offer, and a bottle of whiskey, which she places in the center of his desk. "Courtesy of our salvage trip to a mall on the surface."
A quick laugh escapes parted lips as Corrath taps the ash from his cigarette into the tray before offering, "No paperwork?" Then, as the items begin to get withdrawn from the bag and are settled in the center of the desk, eyes light for a moment before his right brow begins to slowly arch upwards. "Well I'll be … that just put you at the top of my favorite persons list, Captain." A pause. "Should I be worried about what kind of favor or task you need done?" It's clear the words are offered with a hint of jest to them.
"No paperwork," Cora confirms, "None that I can think of, anyway." Her lips curve in a hint of a smirk at his joking question and she lifts one shoulder, replying, "Probably." After a beat she shakes her head and goes on, "No, just thought I'd share the wealth. Of course, I expect you to offer me a smoke and drink now that you're so flush," she tells him, mouth crooking in humor again.
"Phew. There's enough paperwork coming in surrounding the beatings of innocents as being Cylon Sympathizers. Really didn't need too much more." Even as he's speaking, the smoke is settled on the ashtray and he's reaching down to open a desk drawer. Then, his hand disappears within, only to return shortly after with two glasses which are promptly settled on the desk. "'ppreciate it and I'll certainly share. Can't refuse the bearer of such gifts, after all." The bottle of whiskey is snagged and then top removed so that he can fill each glass about half full. Then, he's simply setting the bottle to one side before moving to crack open the carton of smokes so that a package can be withdrawn and opened and then extended in her direction. "How's things going on your front, these days? Suppose I should offer a belated congratulations on being promoted."
Cora smiles as those glasses appear and she accepts a cigarette with a "Thank you," before lighting up. "Things are busy, of course," she replies, "With Tillman having been XO for so long a fair bit of the TACCO-related paperwork was overlooked, so I've been spending quite a bit of time catching up on that. And actually, what I'm here on relates to the cylon sympathizer attacks, somewhat. But thank you," she adds somewhat belatedly to his congratulations, lifting her glass in a toast, "To avoiding more paperwork," before she takes a sip. A long drag is inhaled and held for a moment before she lets it out and informs him, "In order to facilitate investigation into both the attacks on various crew members and the matter of the skinjobs hidden within the crew, I'd like you to oversee the installation of monitoring devices in the berths. Discreetly, of course."
Once she's procured a smoke from the package, he's settling it off to the side so that he can claim his own smoke as well as one of the glasses. "Oh, I certainly imagine things were overlooked. I think that's happened everywhere, in reality." Then, Corrath is giving a slight nod, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. "Not surprised that's one of the reasons you're here, actually." His own glass is lifted an dtilted slightly in her direction, "Seconded." Lifting the glass to his lips, a quick sip is taken, the taste savored for a moment before he finally swallows. "Hmm. Shouldn't be an issue to get some form of monitoring devices in the berths. I'll need to snag one of the engineers to help with the installation, but we can get it done. And quietly."
Cora settles back in her chair, apparently feeling somewhat informal despite the fact that this is technically a work-related meeting. She takes another sip of liquor, and carries on smoking, giving him time to reply before she nods. "Good," she says, "It's a fairly large-scale project, I know, but I think at this stage it's necessary. I'm going to ask one of the programmer-types aboard to try to work up a program that will flag bits of tape more likely to be of interest based on the usage of certain keywords or something like that, hopefully that will cut down on the manpower required to effectively monitor and review the feeds."
Almost mimicing her actions, Corrath takes a sip of the whiskey, followed by a haul from the cigarette as she speaks and when she's done, he's giving a quick nod amidst an exhale. "That would work. Otherwise, I can have the feed linked up with the rest of the cameras and routed to the display monitors for my MP's." A shift of his hand and he's moving to rest his glass atop the armrest of the chair. "Hopefully will be able to actually catch those responsible. They've been getting pretty brazen and one of them actually jumped one of my MP's."
"Given the possibility that marines and even MPs are involved, I'd prefer to keep knowledge of this endeavor as limited as possible, even amongst their ranks," Cora replies, another controlled cloud of smoke directed from her lips towards the ceiling. She lifts a brow and circles back around, "One jumped an MP? During an arrest, you mean, or…?"
"Understandable. If you want, I can have a secure location established with monitors so that only authorized individuals can enter and view the recordings, then." A pause and Corrath is giving a quick shake of his head, "Not during an arrest. He was just out and about and got jumped. By a Marine." The last three words are almost scowled out. "I'll tell ya, when I catch those responsible, I'm going to be locking them up and then forgetting where the preverably key is."
"If the existence of that location could also be kept on a need-to-know basis or close somehow, that would be ideal," Cora replies, "It would be best if people didn't even know that there was some sort of secret monitoring going on. I'm not sure how feasible that is. I guess it'll depend on your personnel. Obviously a few will be needed, I'll leave it to you to pick out those you consider most trustworthy and appropriate, though I'd appreciate having a chance to read their files before you bring them into this." Another sip of whiskey ends in a faint grimace, and she nods, "Yes, it's getting ugly. I mean, the business with Sergeant Constin seems to have been even just within the MPs. I'm going to be proposing to command that we make some sort of public statement that Lauren Coll has been investigated and determined not to be a Cylon," she tells him, "Not that that's been actually established, at this point, but maybe it would calm things down."
"Not an issue. I can pull an arms locker out of service or something and have everything setup in there. Then, I can reset the codes on the door and we can just give the codes to those that we feel should have access to this information. Won't be too hard to keep it out of the public eye, without arousing suspicion." Fingers tap lightly against his glass as he gives a quick nod of his head, "Yep, quite ugly. Though, I don't recommend on making that statement. If it comes out that Coll was a Cylon and we say otherwise, we're going to look pretty foolish. I'm going to be issuing a security statement on these incidents, indicating that anyone involved will be brigged and treated as a war criminal."
"Perfect," Cora replies to the offer of an arms locker, "That sounds good." She sips meditatively as Corrath goes on, hmming softly before nodding, "True. That's a very good point. No statement, then, unless we are actually able to come to a determination at some point. And likely not then, either." She swipes a hand over her hair and sets her glass down, nodding. "Good. Hopefully that will help. I'm also considering asking that you task some marines to begun questioning people. Somewhat at random, somewhat not. I think we might be able to gather useful intelligence about those involved in the attacks and possibly also something that might point to the actual cylons on board."
There's another nod from Corrath, one of agreement, as he lifts his glass and takes another quick sip before returing to let it rest almost idly against the top of the armrest. Lips curve into the briefest of smiles before he's offering, "Already happening, actually. Sergeant Constin is going to begin with the private that we've detained. Once we're finished the initial questioning of him, I intend to have some of the MP's begin questioning people in different departments and the like, completely at random. Even if we don't lear anything, it might spook the others responsible for the attacks and cause them to back off or stop. As for the second point .." He's lifting the hand with his smoke, giving it a brief wave, "It'd be nice to get some information on that during this questioning period, but I'm not gonna hold my breath. I will admit, though, that stranger things have happened. We could just get lucky." The smoke is moved to his lips, a final haul taken before he's butting it out in the ashtray.
At that, Cora lifts a brow. "Sergeant Constin is going to be doing the questioning?" She takes a small sip of whiskey and after a moment goes on, "Given his personal involvement in this situation, are you sure that's wise? It seems both a conflict of interest and likely to cause issues with those being interviewed." She takes another drag before leaning over the desk to borrow his ashtray, tapping her smoke clean before returning it to her lips. "I'd like all of the interviews to be taped for my use, regardless," she says, "And I'll draw up questions I'd like included, ones relating to the skinjob-hunting. It is somewhat unlikely we'll hit upon anything, but it can't hurt to see if anyone has noticed anything out of the ordinary. And these other issues provide with ideal cover for furthering this investigation."
"That's correct, Sergeant Constin is going to be doing the interviewing. While it might be a conflict of interest, it violates no article of Colonial Law. Especially not, during a time of war." Then, Corrath is offering another smile. "Plus, I'm counting on it being uncomfortable for the individual being interviewed. Constin knows his place and won't do anything inappropriate, but I'm willing to bet that when he steps into the room with the Private and shuts the door, the marine is going to damn near shit himself." A pause and he's offering, "Pardon my language." A quick nod is then given, "Standard protocol is to record the interviews, anyways, so I'll see to it that your authorized to access them. If you can get me the questions, I'll get them passed around to the few MP's who I intend to investigate things and who I know I can trust."
"Ah, you just meant this particular interrogation," Cora says, nodding in understanding, "I see. Well, so long as the sergeant is prepared to behave in a professional fashion that won't cause more issues, I think that seems reasonable." As he apologizes for his language, she smirks faintly, replying, "Just because I'm a captain doesn't mean I'm not in the military anymore, O'Hare. Say what you like, I don't offend easily." For all that she sounds like a Caprican aristocrat. Another sip of whiskey, one of the last few puffs left from her dying cigarette and she nods, "That sounds good. I'll write something up and get it over to you shortly. As we go on I may also be submitting names of those I'd like brought in and questioned. Some random, some not. We'll see how it goes."
There's a quirk of his lips into a smile as he gives a soft laugh, "Noted. Just had to make sure. Last thing I need is to piss someone off cause they didn't like my choice of words." There's a flash of a wink before his expression sobers a little. "See, one of the benefits of being in charge of security aboard the ship and maintaining marine intelligence, is that people get to play my games how I want. I'm not against having the game turned into a mind game, especially when it becomes favorable for security purposes. Some people might view it as .. unsavory, but sometimes that's how things get done. As for the list of names? Just get me a list and I'll get a reason to have them brought in for questioning. See how many department heads go and complain to the Boss Lady because we're questioning their staff."
There's a brief flare of a grin at that wink and she shakes her head. "I wouldn't worry about it. Besides, I'm not feeling particularly on-duty at the moment even if we are talking business." She sips slowly at what's left of her drink, and then her lips twist into a curve as the glass is lowered and she nods along with his words. "I completely agree," she replies, "At this point what's most important is finding the most efficient method, not the one that makes the most people happy. I've been granted broad discretion by the colonel, even beyond my purview as TACCO, to conduct this investigation into the humanoid cylon models aboard the ship, so people can complain as they like, but it won't get them anywhere. Whatever methods I think most likely to yield success, people are just going to have to live with," she says, that hint of a smirk returning for a brief moment before she drains what's left in her glass.
There's a still little whiskey left in Corrath's glass and he takes to swirling it around, an almost aimless and subconscious movement. "Good thing. Technically, drinking on duty is a violate of the regs." This time, the smile that graces his lips is a little deeper. "As for pissing people off? It's not overly a large concern of mine. When that starts to happen, it typically means my people are doing their jobs and doing them well. I enjoy sitting back and watching the Boss Lady and the commandly types have to do their politiking routines to keep everyone happy. And now that you're leading the investigation into the Cylons, you get to politik with the rest of them while I watch." Hefting his glass, he's giving a mock toast, even though her glass is empty. "Better you then me." That said, the glass is lifted to his lips and the remainder of the contents drained before he's setting it back on the desk. "Care for another?"
"Considering arresting me?" Cora asks, one brow arching as lips shift with teasing humor. She taps her empty class absently with the pads of her fingers and listens, nodding. "I don't imagine we'll get too much blowback on this. The Department Heads know what I'm doing, and that I'm allowed to do it. Any complaints beyond that go straight up to Pewter, though I think I'll be able to cut them off before they get there. I'd prefer to keep all of this as insulated as possible, given that command is not itself completely above suspicion." She laughs lightly at his mock toast, and sits up a little straighter, nodding at the offer, "Sure, thank you."
Flashing a quick smile, Corrath allows his own brow to arch before quipping out, "Depends. Do you like handcuffs?" Then, he's claiming the package of smokes and extracting one from within, only to lift it to settle between his lips. The lighter is snagged, ignited and lifted to the end of the smoke so that he can take a couple of quick puffs. When the lighter is lowered, he's flashing another smile. "You left yourself open for that one." A nod now and he's moving to lift the bottle of whiskey so that her glass, and then his, can be refilled. "True enough. I do enjoy it not being my neck on the line for this investigation. It's nice to make people squirm without getting yelled at for a change." As the words finish, he's settling the bottle back on the desk and moving his hand to detach the holster from his hip. The desk drawer is then opened, the weapon settled inside before the drawer is closed, key turned and then removed. "If I'm having a couple of drinks, best not walk around with that. That's bound to make it back to the Boss Lady and the Colonel."
"Depends," Cora shoots back, "On who's holding the key." Her smile is a slender sliver of white teeth, and the sense of amusement lingers at the corners of her mouth as she replies mildly once his cigarette is lit, "So I did." She doesn't wink, or even really smirk, but she does watch him for a moment as he nods and pours their next drink, that same thread of humor lingering in her expression. She takes the glass when he passes it over, glancing down to check that, as expected, her sidearm is nowhere to be seen on her person. "A wise policy," she replies, taking a sip. Then she asks, "Do you have somewhere in particular to be going?"
"Touche," is the reply that Corrath gives, one that's followed with a flash of a smile. With her glasses taken, he's claiming his own so that he can once more settle back into the chair, a soft laugh escaping his lips as he gives a shake of his head. "Nothing in the near future. Only thing I'm planning on doing after this is hitting the showers before going to one of the Marine's wedding. Figured I'd just stow the firearm now, otherwise I'd walk out with it." There's a quick nod to the package of smokes on the desk, "Help yourself. You did, afterall, procure them. Perfect timing too, I was beginning to run low on my own stash."
Cora lifts her glass in silent toast to his reply before taking a sip and making herself comfortable in his spare chair once again, long legs stretched out before her, crossed at the ankle. "Oh, of course, that's tonight," she replies, "Lunair and Marko's wedding. I'd forgotten for a moment." She lifts a hand to brush absently over her hair, thoughtful for a moment before turning back and blinking once, and then smiling, "Thank you," and leaning forward to snag herself another smoke, borrowing his lighter to get it going. "I'd half decided to cut back," she tells him as she blows smoke at the ceiling, "But I suspect that won't really be happening."
"Yep, tonight. Somehow managed to remember it. I'm thinking it's because it's one of those 'good moments' that comes amidst the bad. Pleasant change from the rambling routine that some of us have gotten into." The smoke is lifted back to his lips, a long haul taken before he's exhaling upwards. "Cut back? If that's the case, you don't want to venture down here, otherwise you'll probably end up smoking more. Will need to hold meetings in the medical bay or something." The glass of whiskey is then lifted to his lips, a smallish sip taken before he's lowering it back down. "You one of the unlucky ones who's in CIC this evening, or will you be making an appearance at the wedding?"
"It ought to be easy to remember," Cora agrees, "It's not as if there are many things like that on my calendar." She inhales deeply and then chuckles, lifting a brow, "Are you sure you wouldn't still smoke in sickbay? I wouldn't put it past you to make them set up a special section of the recovery room or something." She brushes at her hair with a finger again and then considers the question for a moment before replying, "I'm not sure I'll be able to make the whole thing, but I may put in an appearance. I assume there's going to be some sort of reception, or something… I'll probably drop by the party. Might as well keep up on all of my vices, not just this one," she replies with a smokey smirk as she flicks her cigarette to indicate it.
There's an almost too-quiet grunt as Corrath gives a shake of his head, "Nope, I wouldn't. I try that and I can just imagine one of the Doctor's trying to stick me with a needle or something." A barely visible shudder runs through him at the mention of needle, though the smile remains on his lips. "I'm pretty sure it's just a quick giving of vows and then some form of reception. Back home, I'd normally drag one of my college mates off to this with me so I wasn't standing in a corner by myself. Since you're a fellow college Intelligence Geek like myself, figured I'd see if you wanted to be dragged out to revel in another's bliss." His glass is lifted back to his lips, this time he drains a sizable portion of the contents. "So, you'll need to go."
"Or worse, they'd set you up with a bunch of those patches or pills or whatever and force you to quit," Cora warns teasingly. She takes another sip as she nods, cigarette smoldering in mid-air next to her, elbow resting on the arm of the chair. "Standing in a corner by yourself?" she nearly scoffs, "You're not the life of the party, Corrath? I find that hard to believe. You need to drink more." She flashes him a grin and then takes another sip, watching as he drinks. A brow lifts at that last and she asks, still just holding in the smile at twitches at her lips, "Or you'll handcuff me?"
"Sacrilege," is all that Corrath offers to the mere mention of patches and pills. A slight rotation of his wrist sends the whiskey swirling in the glass as he gives a quick chuckle, "If only you were a Doctor. I could take that recommendation to the Boss Lady." The smile that had sat upon his lips shifts into the slightest of grins now, "But, I can be the life of a party. Weddings are just .. weddings. Alot of the time, people are expected to prim and proper. Other times .." He simply lets that thought trail off as his hand moves to rest the cigarette in the ashtray before disappearing down beneath the edge of the desk. There's a muted click and when his hand returns, he's tossing a pair of handcuffs onto the desk.