PHD #439: I Believe
I Believe
Summary: Rose finds an unwelcome conversation while posting the Good News
Date: 11 May 2042 AE
Related Logs: Bannik's Manifesto
Constin Rose 
Elpis corridor - MV Elpis
Similar but not identical to those on military vessels, this hall features a hexagonal structure, with pressed metal plating on the floor and walls. Hatches line it, providing access to other parts of the ship.
Post-Holocaust Day: #439

Citizens looking to trade something, sell services, or looking for services or items often post up flyers on whatever scraps of paper that can be scrounged up nowadays. Some of it actually comes from old recycled military reports, likely black-barred to cover up classified information or otherwise marked up to the point where no one would mistake it for someone using it by writing or typing on the back. And more than often, these flyers get taped up or stuck up with sticky resin or whatever passes as adhesive, and then torn down, leaving a graveyard of taped corners and bits of gaffing putty all over the corridor.

Such is Rose's life. She's currently trying to find a section where she can fix up some torn-down copies of Tyr Bannik's manifesto. A sheaf of papers in hand, she's moving down through the corridor, finding ideal spots to post them back up.

Three hours into second shift aboard the Elpis. Recent investigations and goings-on have managed to warrant the presence of Cerberus' Master-at-Arms, taking his turn as Elpis' ranking officer of the watch. The big man's bootfalls carry him through the ship's central corridor from the fore-ward end. Habitually narrow blue eyes survey the corridor quickly as he moves, scanning briefly over each civilian as he passes them. Gradually, his eye comes upon Rose, and her sheaf of scavenged and recycled pages. The marine's steps pause.

Picking off bits of gaffer's putty and spackle, she fashions the best adhesives she can and affixes the current page to an empty space on the bulkhead she's in front of. People come and go throughout the day, but rarely do they look as big and as imposing (and as armed) as Constin. She pauses, looking in his direction suddenly. Offering a timid and nervous smile, she finishes smoothing out the page.

"Ma'am," Constin greets evenly, in answer to that nervous smile. His narrow blue regard goes from Rose, to the page she has just finished posting, recognizing the 'manifesto' immediately. The man's neutral expression twists toward the stern, as his eye goes back to to Rose, and specifically to the stack of papers she carries. "Ma'am where did you get all those?" he wonders, flatly.

"I printed them," Rose responds, turning to face the large man. He likely towers over her; she gathers the remainder of her papers to her chest, forearms together, seeming nervously shy. "It's perfectly legal, everyone else posts things all the time. Not to mention that I'm not posting anything like, 'looking for a good time' or 'want to sell one healthy kidney' or anything illegal like that. Sir." Her foot scuffs at the deck, and big round eyes stare somewhat fearfully at Constin.

"You printed them," Constin echoes flatly. "May I ask where you printed them, ma'am?" Drawing a slow breath in through the nose, he adds, in the next breath, "It is not illegal, ma'am. You are not breaking regs by doing this, and you are not going to be punished for posting this.." he sounds about to add another word, but lets his comment go unspoken.

Rose straightens up a little, trying to summon up confidence in dealing with the big marine. "My name is Rose Ibbhanas, the hydroponics manager, here," she offers. "I… used the equipment we have in the hydroponics effort. I only print a few a day, which is tons less than the usual print-outs we do for record-keeping, I swear!"

Constin hears out the young woman's answer. As she states her name and station he simply nods once, curtly. "As you are no doubt a capable record keeper, roughly how many copies of this have you printed to date, ma'am?" the marine prompts, words spoken even in pitch and slow in speed as his eye goes once again from Rose, to the posted page.

Rose's brows knit in worry, and she begins to shake her head. "I don't think I have to tell you that, sir, I'm sorry. I can tell you, though, that I've only used resources deemed unsuitable for use in the hydroponics project, or salvaged myself through other sources. This is purely a civilian matter; a matter of spirituality and faith."

"Spirituality and faith?" Constin echoes, turning his stare sharply back from the well-remembered words of Bannik's posting to fix upon Rose. "Ma'am, whatever you do or don't believe, this right here is you mass printing, and circulating the OPINION of one wide-eyed kid. You really want to try and justify to me the notion of ship's resources getting spent on this?" He isn't shouting, but the big man's manner has definitely sharpened.

Rose gulps audibly, suddenly feeling extra small in the presence of the barking marine. "S-Sir, if you're going to arrest me, I suggest you do it. But it'll only make things worse for you. I mean, Tyr Bannik isn't a kid. He's not much younger than I am. And he's had the privilege of having visited Gemenon and learning an important fact about humanity's killers - that it's erroneous to call all Cylons evil. Just like how all of humanity isn't evil, despite how many wars and crimes we've perpetrated on ourselves. The Scrolls teach us these things, sir. Tyr's right, sir. We have a future, and it's not out here." Seems she's something of a holy roller, because as she's gone into 'righteous defense' mode, and she's gained a certain amount of confidence back from it as well.

"Ma'am, the only rules you're breaking are them of common frakking sense, and this fleet better be REAL glad that ain't a crime," Constin notes brusquely to Rose's initial 'if you're going to arrest me' comment. "Tyr Bannik, from his own damn mouth, is a scared serviceman who abandoned his post during battle. That whole damned thing-" he motions shortly toward the posted manifesto, "-Ain't but his frakking OPINION. He don't bring any facts in that frakking letter, ma'am- read it. Right now. Only FACT he lists is that collaborator business. All the rest of it is 'I believe', 'I believe', 'I frakking believe'. And tell me something- even if you DO *believe* it all- what happens if he's wrong about Gemenon? How many people will give up on everything if him and folk like you have gotten them *believing*-" scorn marks the oft-repeated word, "That this is the only hope? Not everybody can afford to buy into 'belief'."

"Well, um…" Biting her lower lip, Rose is momentarily disarmed by Constin's bluster. She tries another tactic. "Mister… Gysiggit… whatever your rank is… Constin?" She reads from the name placard on his breast. Naturally she's not comprehending what 'GySgt' means. "I'm going to guess you don't have much in the way of belief in the gods? Some of us do, sir. Religion is based on what people believe. There's no facts that say the gods exist other than what's written down in scripture, and even then, that's an account from other people who believed what they were writing to be true. Belief, sir. Belief keeps you going when nothing else seems to be going right. And I believe Tyr Bannik, sir."

"Gunnery Sergeant. Constin," Elf fills in, shortly. "And that's just fine, ma'am. You're right, I don't give a twice-used rag for the scrolls or the scriptures, or the Gods. If you want to believe Tyr Bannik, you go right on ahead." Ire still plain in his manner, the big marine's eye flicks down to the stack of print sheets, and back up to Rose. "But you think good long and frakking hard before you try to convince the rest of humanity that it's down to a choice between Gemenon and Oblivion. Some of us still got jobs to do."

Rose nods emphatically. "And I'm glad you're here, Gunnery Sergeant," she says, quick to correct herself on his rank. "You can ask anyone, that I'm very supportive of the military. You're the only reason why we're still alive, and I am thankful each day for it, and for the brave men and women whom you fight alongside." She could be a politician, if she had a mean bone in her body. Looking to the wall where she posted the flyer, she offers in response, "I'm just sharing Tyr's words, sir. Nothing more. I said I believe in what Tyr has to say. Nothing's on that flyer that's any different than what Tyr said himself. It's up to you to decide if you believe… or not." Offering a timid smile, she asks, "May I go now, sir?"

"It's on your damn head," is all that Elf mutters in return, as he nods shortly once to her request to leave. Looking back with a scowl to the posted print sheet, the MaA briefly wishes he were the sort of man to tear down a legal posting, before growling under his breath as he turns to continue his interrupted path, "All of you. On your own damn heads."

"Have a nice day, Gunnery Sergeant," she calls out cheerfully after him. Then, once the big man is off on his patrol, the resolve rushes out of Rose and she looks suddenly very tired. Pushing some hair back behind her ear, she gets back to work. These flyers aren't going to post themselves.

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