PHD #413: Lockdown
Summary: The Areion's prisoners talk amongst themselves.
Date: 15 Apr 2042 AE
Related Logs: Everything from 15 APR
Madilyn Burke Mark Cidra Bia 
Areion Cells
Fashionably trendy with eggshell walls, plush carpeting, a bar, and a gorgeous view of.. Laughlin's rotting corpse.
Post-Holocaust Day: #413

1450. Everyone and the Gods heard that announcement from Kepner. Especially Mark who didn't bother keeping his thoughts politely to himself anymore once they were being 'escorted' (or kicked and shoved in Mark's case) down to the cells. Once inside, Mark rubs at his wrists and stares the Marine down for a few seconds before turning back to look at Laughlin's body unceremoniously dumped in the cell. He rubs at his ribs with one hand and his cheek with the other. "What a godsdamned coward. You deserved better, Commander," he grunts. At least he's not yelling anymore.

Burke is deposited in the cell soon after as well, still in his flight suit although the helmet is gone. Once inside, he completely disregards the scene before him to fumble urgently through his pockets and retrieve an old black and white photograph. Pleased to see it, he puts it back in the pocket that he found it and glances sidelong at the corpse on the ground, "Dang."

Seeing little use in resisting and incuring the misguided wrath of the Areion captors, Madilyn has been cooperative enough on the way to the cell. That doesn't mean the other marines were gentle, and there are certain to be a few bruises and bumps. "I'm such a godsdamned fool. I suspected Laughlin was working with Kepner. Now I understand why Benoit was so eager to explain this all away as a breakdown in communications. Probably told the same damned sob story to Laughlin." She paces, trying to avoid looking at the corpse in the cell.

Mark grimaces now that the adrenaline is leaving. Those punches and kicks are starting to hurt a lot more. He squints against the pain and leans to a wall, one hand wiping blood from his nose as he sinks to his knees. "Motherfrakkers," he whispers in disgust. "I hope the Cerb spearfishes this damned ship with its guns." His eyes move to Cidra and Bia for a moment and then up to Madilyn. "Breakdown in communication?" He spits a glob of blood to the floor and looks back up to the Marine Major. "That's like saying that losing the Pyramid Grand Championships is a 'tough break'."

"This had to be why they were so amenable to ending the illegal detainments. They wanted us here, to talk about this, to talk about moving forward. To put all the brass here on their boat. All the education in the twelve colonies and what good did it do any of us? I'm sure Kepner's up there tugging one off right now, just thinking about how he pulled the wool over all our eyes," Madilyn muses out loud. She's pacing, a few steps back and forth, looking out through the bars into the brig.

Burke doesn't pay much attention to the conversation going on around him, moving over to crouch down alongside Cidra and tilt his head slightly. He doesn't say anything, however, climbing to his feet and leaning back against one of the walls, "We're in a tight spot."

Mark watches Madilyn pace, leaning over as he hugs himself. Owww. There's another look to Cid and he remembers it could be worse. Or is she the lucky one? The Captain sits back. "Speakin of which, if they got Tillman, who does that leave running the fleet outside Areion? Sotter? MacLean? Sure as shit hope Nikephoros has her wits with her." He grunts and looks up to Burke. "How'd you get pinched, Ensign?"

Cidra is out cold, and looks like she's been in a nasty bar fight, right eye blackened and blood matted in her hair above a cut on her forehead on that side, though Good Gracious Bia has stopped any bleeding for the moment. She's not waking up anytime soon.

"I's out on CAP," Burke answers, turning to Mark to answer the question, "Couple o' them snakes come up behin' me," he jerks a thumb over his shoulder to illustrate his point, "Blow up my bird. That stripper lady said Cap'n Bootstrap an' them ain't allowed t' he'p me. So them Ar'ion folk fished me outta space and done took me here."

"If they nabbed the XO's on all the ships, Sotter and MacLean are out. I don't recall the names of the TACCOs there. As for Captain Nikephoros…she did just spend quite a long time aboard Areion, voluntarily subjecting herself to the Gun, and of course, time spent with Kepner. I don't know what to make of her, either." Since the pacing is accomplishing nothing, Madilyn presses her back to the bars, and slides down to sit on the floor.

"They shot you out of the frakkin sky?" Mark asks through a sneered cringe. "What th- You know what? Kepner just shot his C-O in the head. You getting shot down makes about as much sense. You all lose any pilots?" Probably asking for Cid whenever she wakes up. "Frak, they're just collectin' hostages. Fantastic." The man rolls in his squat to sit on the floor, taking the rag from his pocket to dab at the blood from his nose. It leaves greasy carbon in trade. "Musta missed that part about the other ships while I was gettin my ass kicked. Fun shit about Nikephoros. Well, we'll find out in under half an hour whether or not Cora is with or against. Probably about this time It'd be appropriate to start prayin'." He makes a face and spits a little more blood to the floor beside him. At least its less this time. "Man, Leyla's gonna be pissed."

Burke shakes his head in answer to the question, "Not that I saw … though they done damaged Spiral's bird a ton." He shrugs his shoulders and sits down with his back against the wall, "I heard them say they was gonna kill hostages."

Given the circumstances, Madilyn does something more out of habit and decorum than any need: thanks to the roughing up, a few strands of hair have come loose from here and there. As she listens to the stories, and goes to put her hair back in place, she thinks better of it. Rather than draw attention to herself that way, she'll leave things be…especially given that there are several bobby pins in place there. Who knows what, why, when, or how they could be helpful, but every bit and scrap helps.

Mark nods slowly. "Ayyyep. Every thirty minutes until the whole fleet falls in line. Or the Marines decide to do something about it. How 'bout it, Major? Think your boys and girls will play ball or roll out guns blazing?" Obviously Mark isn't up on security nor has he spent time in the brig. He snorts, wiping the blood once more. "Hell. That coward blows Cerb's nukes, the he will take himself out. Godsdamn fifty megatons a piece." The Captain grumbles as his eyes lift once more to Laughlin's lifeless body.

"I think that, were I in Captain Nikephoros' shoes…I might make that a priority. Kepner might control those nukes, but he can't drive that beast. I'm no naval brain, but I think I'd put Cerberus right up Areion's ass, and sit there giving them the big Mercury-class finger. If Kepner blows the nukes that close, he's cellular waste somewhere. If he opens up on Cerberus that close, he's out of his godsdamned mind. I don't care how much back-door spending, black-market bullshit Kepner claims to have. He's got the Gun, but an escort carrier up close and personal with a battlestar is not a fair fight." As to the issue of the Marines, she replies with a shrug. "Captain Mathers the the Ell-Tees are running the show now. They'll do what they have to do."

Burke simply shrugs his shoulders, obviously not in any position to offer an idea or a plan that could be of any help them. He looks up between the pair as they discuss what is to be done.

Mark grunts turning his head down a bit. "Those big guns on the front end of the Cerberus? They'd plug a hole in this tin can thirty feet wide.. before it exploded. Wouldn't take more'n two or three rounds and I'm pretty sure that beast can fire them all at once." He sniffs again and settles his head against the wall to look towards the 'sky'. "Athena, you better not frak us, babe." The Captain looks back towards Burke. "You new to the Navy, Ensign? You don't exactly sound like an honor grad from Fleet. No offense, obviously." Its no secret the ChEng hadn't worn a uniform in way more than a decade before Warday rolled around.

"Got picked up on Aerilon a little while back," Burke answers, and if there is any offense taken he doesn't show it - maybe he didn't even pick up on it, "Trained up. Jus' got my commission."

Never one to be particularly religious, Madilyn does at least nod to Mark's statement. That is as much of a catalyst as any, so for maybe the first time anywhere public since Warday, Madilyn closes her eyes and lowers her forehead to her interlaced fingers. She doesn't say anything outloud, but, her mouth is moving as she whispers or mouths the words silently.

Mark watches Madilyn. "Get one in for my people too, Major." He's serious. The man cringes as he shifts his weight, holding his sides. His breathing is still heavy. "Yeah? No kiddin. Got them flashy wings and all. Good on you. Other than our splendid predicament that dickless shitbag has us in, Navy life treatin' you alright?" Let's try not to think about Impending Doom, if possible.

"It'll be treatin' me right up 'til this Kepner fella shoots me," Burke points out, shrugging his shoulders and sounding good natured enough, "And if that don't happen, then I'm just peachy."

While those two continue to talk about their time in the Navy, Madilyn is content to sit silently, head bowed. The others make their peace, or bide their time, brood, or lie unconscious while she does what she's been so remiss in doing for too long. In her little bubble, she sits with the bars at her back and makes a plea to whatever deity she still thinks might listen.

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