| Nobody Expects the Areion Inquisition |
| Summary: | It's Sawyer's turn by the Gun. |
| Date: | 09 April 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | Any with the _cylonhunt tag. |
| Players: |
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The sirens don't quiet for a good fifteen minutes, long after the haze would've worn off for Sawyer. It presents a combination of heat, light and sound that assaults the senses. But eventually they do fade away, replaced by a disembodied voice from beyond the walls of the reactor chamber. Pumped in over wireless. And one Sawyer should recognize and belonging to Commander Kepner. "Sawyer Averies, you have been detained on suspicion for and testing to determine if you are a Cylon agent. If you are human, no harm will come to you, and you will be released within forty-eight yours. If you are not…" A short, humorless 'Heh' is barked. He lets her imagine what may or may not happen.
There is a tremble in Sawyer's shackled hands, and when she feels that telltale tremor of fear she balls her fingers into fists. "I'm sorry. I can't hear you over the ringing in my ears. Why don't you come in here and say it to my face, so I at least get the benefit of reading your lips." She says it in that over-loud way of the recently deaf, though it smacks of bravado. False bravado, but no one has to know that, right? As if willing her thudding heart to slow, Sawyer slows her panted breathing, trying to even it out. The saying goes you should never let them see you sweat, but it /is/ damn hot in here, and perspiration is one thing the woman can't control. It's already beading on her forehead and causing her hair to dampen on the back of her neck.
"Can you hear me now?" He must have turned up the wireless speaker volume, because the voice downright booms through the chamber at those words, echoing off the walls. "You have a great deal of access for a civilian, Miss Averies. You're allowed to walk the halls of a battlestar with impunity, though you refuse to enlist and serve. You're allowed access to documents far beyond what any reporter is cleared to, and as near as I can tell it's all because of some sort of strange hold you've gained over the XO. What is the nature of your relationship with Major Tillman?"
The wince around her eyes is enough to prove that yes, yes she can in fact hear him. "Can I smoke in here? Why don't you come down and give me a cigarette and we can talk like civilized people. Or are you afraid your brain might liquify in here? If I have nothing to be afraid of, why are you up hiding in the safety of the catwalk? And why don't you call me Sawyer, we're all friends here, right?" She's a journalist, every question she gets asked is merely answered by ten of her own. The woman makes a little sneer with the curve of her lips as she tries to manuever her fingers in effort to try and slip out of the restraints. All she gets are numb fingers. "I'm not really into this whole Bee Dee Ess Em thing, for future reference."
"And Admiral Abbot, for that matter. You have a talent for worming your way into the good graces of the powerful men in this Fleet, Miss Averies," Kepner continues. She does not, of course, get any answers to her own questions. "You've managed to get yourself strategically placed to be privy to a great deal the enemy could make use of. And, as with your little spin of half-truths and slander about the works done at MolGen on Leonis, you continue to be allowed this despite printing works that undermine Fleet security and morale. Even if you aren't a Cylon, Miss Averies, you're a testament to the dismal state of security on that battlestar."
"Well you're a testament to the dismal state of birth control." Sawyer snaps at the void. "Your mother probably had to tie a porkchop around your neck so the dog would play with you. I want my gods damned lawyer and I want a gods damned cigarette. I invoked, so any questions you ask me are against the frakking Colonial law that you pretend to be upholding." So much for slowing her racing heart rate down, but the thrum in here is really really annoying when all she wants to do is sleep off that ache in her bones the tranq's have left.
Kepner's response to Sawery invoking her rights to legal council are to key up the klaxons again, filling the chamber with that pounding reverberation of noise once again. Or perhaps it was the comment about his mother.
Sawyer squeezes her eyes shut, tucking her chin down to her chest. She tries her best to hide from the noise, but it's impossible given her current strapped-down predicament. There is a nervous bark of laughter from the woman as tears roll down from her eyes and drip off her nose, padding dark splotches onto the material of her skirt. She sniffles loudly, voice raw as intones, "Is that all you've got?" The words directed towards her lap.
The klaxons quiet eventually, after a good ten minutes of pounding noise into her chamber. "How are you feeling, Miss Averies?" There comes Kepner's voice again. "Headaches? That's how it started with Fields. Their brains are indistinguishable from ours, you know, as far as Medical can tell, but there's silica in there somewhere. Even if our own tests can't find it, the Gun can. That's how it'll be with you, Miss Averies, if you're a skinjob. It'll eat away at that traitorous little brain of yours. Left Fields mad, after weeks and weeks in here. Pity she wasn't more useful in the end. But we got what we needed out of her. And the Gun'll get what we need out of you. One way or another."
Sawyer pulls her head up, her face awash with shadows and the green pallor the light from their precious weapon causes her skin to have. Her chin jutted towards the approximation of where the speaker is, the reporter merely retorts. "You've been blaring klaxons at me, of course I have a frakking headache. And if I had any silica in me, you'd think I'd have opted for a bigger cup size." Silica, silicone. Ta-may-to, ta-mah-to.
That one earns a rough "Heh" from Kepner. "Very entertaining, Miss Averies. Now, let's talk about Gemenon." A pause. "Why in the hells was a civilian reporter along on a recon mission like that? You in bed with the battlestar's CAG and XO both at once? Must get crowded for those cups of yours."
Sawyer lets her eyes drift shut again, because straining to see a disembodied voice is getting taxing. "Are you a big fan of movies, Rudy?" She's recognized his voice by now, "The detectives always haul in the leggy blonde and toss her at a chair." The reporter swallows thickly, in desperate need of a glass of water though she doesn't deign to ask for one. "Then they shine a big bright light in her eyes and ask her if she has an alibi for such and such a date? You really should have paid more attention, because you suck at this."
"We have reports you and one Lieutenant Duncan - and several others - were along due to some…experience you'd had. That coincided with a reported freak-out by that crazed skinjob you had in the Cerberus brig back on Tauron," Kepner goes on. "We should've put that crazy, withered bitch out an airlock. Instead we handed her back to her own kind, gift-wrapped. But that bird's out of our hands now. You sharing dreams with a Cylon, Averies? What did you see? What's the enemy planning, and what does it have to do with Gemenon?"
"I'll tell you what, Rudy. You've been such a good sport, I'll answer one of your questions. Pick one." Sawyer's head rolls to the side, shrugging up a shoulder to pillow her cheek on it.
"What did you see?" Kepner repeats, voice coming out in a low hiss, though it still echoes, amplified, in the chamber.
Sawyer's lips form a little self-satisfied smile, not bothering to lift her head. "Magic eight ball says: reply hazy, try again later." It's an answer, isn't it? Just probably not the one he's looking for.
"Heh. Have it your way then, Averies," Kepner says. And then he hits the klaxons again. He'll have no more questions for her after that. They'll just blare. For five minute intervals. Then pause for ten. Then blare again for fifteen straight. Such is how she'll spend the remainder of her hours in the chamber.