PHD #243: Paging Dr. Zenon
Paging Dr. Zenon
Summary: Marines aren't necessarily gentle when paging doctors they find out in the scrub brush.
Date: 27 Oct 2041 AE
Related Logs: None
Althea Khloe Wade Madilyn Lysander Rian 
Ewe Aerilon - Aerilon
Farms and fields and woods and stuff.
Post-Holocaust Day: #243

Ewe Aerilon. Despite having been abandoned for some time, there's no hiding the fact that it use to be a sheep farm. That said! It's recently seen the kind of order only marines can bring. Meaning the petrified sheep poop has been ground into the ground or cleaned up if someone's been particularly naughty.

The weather is decent for once, the perfect time for either Cylons to attack or refugees come seeking the military presence at Ewe Aerilon. Case in point? Althea and a small handful of people currently in the underbrush watching the camp. The Fleet Reservist frowns at the camp, while at her side a man that would be burly if he wasn't so damned starved rumbles. "Dr. Zenon? What do we do?" He crouches down, attempting to stay hidden, "Want me to go see what up?"

She shakes her head, pushing hair out of her face. "No," Thea breathes, "Let's watch them a bit longer. I'll be the one to make contact when we're ready."

Walking over from the landing field and refueling depot, Khloe Vakos walks towards the main Ewe Aerilon camp, helmet in one hand. She is shrugging out of her flight jacket as she goes, revealing the usual green and dark gray tank tops underneath, octagonal dog tags hanging freely around her neck. Along side her is Wade Duncan, her wingman for the day. "Feels good, doesn't it, Drips?" She says to the man next to her. "Real sun, real air. I'd love to go for a run in this weather."

Wade is actually looking at the sun at the moment, one hand up, close to his forehead as he tries to block some of that damn sun. "Yes it does, it's been a while since I haven't seen something like this" says the pilot, now lowering his hand and looking at Khloe as he walks next to her. "Well, nobody said we can't, right? A little run never hurt anyone." He unzipps his suit but doesn't shrug out of it yet. However, dog tags are visible underneath. He looks over his shoulder at the two Vipers Mark VII that they took and then back to the Captain "For how long are we here?"

The farmhouse at Ewe Aerilon has been requisitioned for use as the operations command center. As such, it's a veritable hive for Marine and fleet activity on the planet, much like the old farmhouse was for those on Saggitaron. The barn can used for sheltering the Vipers and Raptor, but the house itself has been taken over with bare bones cots, radio transmitters, and plenty of maps. Search here. Don't search there. Set up a perimeter here and there. Route patrols to this point. In the middle of this bustling activity, Madilyn has found the time to stand outside and enjoy the weather herself…maybe not the best of ideas, given the Major's pins on her pressed uniform.

"And so then mild laughter ensued," states a marine from Lysander's squad.

Sergeant Lysander glances up from the candy bar he had been eating and then folds the half-opened wrapper over in order to tuck it into a pocket at his shoulder. He begins to check over the GMAR battle rifle strapped and idly braced over the front of his battle dress while he speaks up in turn, "Horrible frakkin' jokes, man, absolutely horrible - what's our time look like?"

Someone else pipes in with the time and the Sergeant gives a nod of his head. Two squads worth of marines get to be on-planet and amongst Ewe Aerilon for the fantastic job of security detail. Lysander gets to babysit his bunch in the area this time around and the man begins to round up the other eleven under his command in order to head back to the camp proper. They simply have to cross another field and some brush and then they'll be given some slack. Some, at least.

Fireteam Charlie Three-Two has been on security rotations of the make-shift base since they set up camp here a few weeks back. Needless to say Corporal Rian and her grunts know the lay of the land pretty damn well having patrolled the parameter more times then she can even count too. Making her way back to the base, patrol shift change, Rian and two other marines dressed in their duty greens make their way through the forested area to the west, careful and quiet and highly alert since seeing some strange action from across the field. A reconnaissance marine wouldn't be worth a damn if they didn't notice the rustling of the of the underbrush near the camp. Rian signals to the other grunts, pulling up her rifle from where it was hanging on her chest and crouches down. The other two widely flank her moving steady though the patch of forest. The Corporal is in within ear shot when a man whispers to the doctor and at that point decides to blow her own cover and pop out from the brush she was crouched behind. No nonsense she has her rifle ready and aimed at the small group of survivors. Dark eyes look down the barrel, narrowed and cold as she speaks up in a monotone near yell, "Let me see your hands! All of you, turn around! Now!" Brown eyes scan the area carefully taking in all the dirty and skinny people there carefully.

To be frank, Althea is rather happy that she managed to go so long without being discovered. She was never the best at these kinds of things during her basic training. "Do what they say." She tells her formerly-meaty-but-now-just-kinda-saggy-skinned companion, rising to her feet. "The others have their orders and should be fine; I told them not to eat the old and infirm unless there's no other choice." Is she joking? She *sounds* like she isn't joking, but she has to be. Right?

"Frakkin' doctors and their frakkin' senses of humor." Obviously her friend is just as unsure if she's joking or not. He rises first, empty hands raised to the air like the roof's on fire. Althea is a bit slower to follow, because she's taking the time to unsling the rifle she's carrying so that she can raise it over her head to show that she's armed but not at ready. "I'm Fleet." She informs the woman, as the other scattered people rise and lift their empty hands too. "The rest are civilians."

"Just long enough to refuel and do atmo pre-flight inspection," Khloe says to Wade. "Just enough time to say hello to the marine folk, get some water, and head back. Duty first." That last bit was probably more for herself than a reminder to Wade.

Around when Khloe and Wade are halfway to the barn, the commotion goes up in the underbrush. Her instinct is to put her hand on her sidearm and head in that direction, and her usual scowl that was chased away by the bright and sunny day has returned.
GAME: Save complete.

"So not long" says Wade after Khloe speaks. He nods to that and then looks back at the Vipers again. Said Vipers are being refueled at the moment. "Ah yes, the socials." adds Wade once again referring to comments made by the Captain. His hand also moves to his sidearm and he now looks at the Captain's back since she's already moving to the larger group. He unclips the safe of his holster and follows Khloe.

Rian focus on the woman that speaks up, though her glance does flash to the man that jokes at her side. Stiff lipped and same tone, "State your name and rank." Procedure. The two other grunts come out of the woodwork now, on either side of the small grouping of people with their own weapons cocked and ready. "Cross, lower your weapon and radio HQ. Give SITREP and ask for medical assistance," she tells the other marine, though dark cold eyes remain on Althea. The grunt does as the Corporal bellows.

Rian is kind of loud even in normal conversation, so is it much of a shock that when she gives a yell from one of the adjacent fields that it can be heard back at the camp? No, not really, so that's why there's a few heavy thumps from the porch of the house as Madilyn starts to head in that direction. Like the pilots, her hand is to the sidearm on her thigh, unbuckling the holster as she approaches the far side of the camp.

Lysander pauses in step as he cross the distance of a field, an angle of the barn and farmhouse in the background. He's picking up words on his wireless and he's not the only one to be hearing such, and that's with hearing faint yells as well. The Sergeant reaches up and signals in turn for the group to double-time it. Two of the fireteams hold back near to the house but Lysander and three others trot into view at an even pace, moving to join Madilyn along the way. "Sounds like fun, sir, huh?"

"Dr. Althea Zenon, Lieutenant." Okay, so /technically/ she's a reservist, not actual military, but given the whole 'Cylons taking over the world and attempting to exterminate/experiment with the human race' thing, it's safe to say she's allowed to assume she's been activated. Or will be soon enough. That little difference in paperwork is easily taken care of when the marines aren't on duty in a hostile situation. Althea glances around, counting the heads of her people that popped up. What her count turns up, though, the psychiatrist's face doesn't show. She shifts her weight slightly, gun still held over her head as she gets a tad bit more comfortable and turns to keep an eye on the guns pointed at her. Yeah, Lysander. Fun.

Once reaching the edge of the cleared and trampled ground that surrounds the farm and at the edge of said underbrush, it's clear from Khloe's point of view that the Marines have everything under control. Still, Khloe stands at parade rest but with one hand tucked behind the small of her back and the other resting on her holstered pistol. "So much for social," Poppy mutters to Wade.

"You can say that again" mutters back Wade, standing a few steps to the Captain's left. One hand is still on his gun but the other moves to his chest, to his dogtags. Apparently there's something with them because he has been doing that for a while now. His attention goes to all the gathered Marines and he stays maybe half a second longer with the CO. However he looks at the Civilians again and just waits to see how the procedures go. "Maybe it's for the better. To leave the socials aside…for today"

Rian's eyes narrow like a cat as she still stares down the doctor, "drop it!" She barks as she motions with tip of her rifle to the weapon above the woman's head. As the others come a running she takes her gaze briefly away from the group and makes a snap decision. "Right, now all of you move out to the clearing," the marine orders, "single file and hands still above your heads." She waits a fraction of a second, "Move it!"

To the side of the group of civilians a bit, Madilyn just watches. For the moment, there doesn't appear to be a need to frisk them; they can get to the clearing and out of that scrub brush first before their gear is pulled off and checked through for weapons. Rather than having the doctor drop the rifle though, she steps in to take the weapon from the woman. Keeping her eyes on the group, Madilyn clears the action, ejects the round, safties, and hangs onto it for now.

When Madilyn takes her gun, the good doctor gives her a quick assessing glance, before looking back towards Rian at her oders. Althea glances again over the gathered people and nods ever so slightly, taking the lead as she makes her way into the clearing. It's clear even to the most obtuse that the civilians look to the reservist for guidance, and that she knows it. Rian's attempt to stare her down, however, is not entirely successful. Her body language is submissive enough, but it's almost like someone going through the actions because they know it's required rather than someone actually cowed.

Lysander ends up standing in the clearing with the three others of his personal fire-team. They have their battle rifles in hand, and one gets a large squad automatic weapon, but for the time being they rest before them, held aloft, waiting for the gathered bunch found to approach. The Sergeant glances aside to the other Colonials in uniform, but since Rian found the bunch he would rather keep it Rian's show.

"Hmm, not much of a show," Khloe quietly observes as everything is handled by the book. "Seems they're led by someone in the Fleet. Probably warned them there'd be lots of yelling and gun-pointing." It's almost as if she's disappointed. Still, she hasn't let her guard down, other than to quietly chit-chat with Wade. Or, at least, her version of chit-chat.

"There will always be other changes for blood and mayhem" says Wade, still eyes focused on the group of civilians and their leader. His attention moves to Khloe for a moment and says "Or…metal, guts and blood in our case. You know, Riders" There's a very faint smirk on his lips as he talks and then he just takes a deep breath. He still doesn't put the safe on his holster, but at this moment, he knows everything is under control. And if it isn't, whoever decides to start playing games, will probably get a face-full of bullets.

Rian follows the line of survivors out from the bush, rifle now pointed to the ground with safety on. Once out and spread out in the clearing the Corporal noticeably relaxes, eyes scan the others present and she nods to her squadies to stand down. A few quick steps brings her to Madilyns side though she keeps facing the group of strangers, "Dr. Althea Zenon, LT apparently." Rian states plainly and in less volume to the CO.

Madilyn offers a nod to Rian. "Thank you, Corporal," she starts, turning to look at the group. The rifle she took from the doctor is held in her hands as she looks them over. With a nod of her head, to the side, she motions for the other fireteams to get close and personal, to start checking for concealed weapons on the group. "Are you the only officer - or only member of the fleet, for that matter - in your group, Doctor?" Madilyn asks the woman straight away.

Gray-blue eyes flit from Marine to Marine, then back over to the group of civilians led by the supposed Lieutenant. "All right, Drips, let's not make this more complicated than it needs to be. Let them do their jobs. I'm going to go get that water." The faint click of her pistol's safety, followed by the snap of her holster strap securing. Captain Vakos reaches down to pick up her discarded helmet and jacket, and begins trudging over to the barn area.

The Sergeant of the bunch looks once again in the direction of the flight jocks and gives a low snort. Bystanders, he passes quiet judgment with that look of his and then turns his attention back to the civilians. He glances sidelong to the rest of his fire-team and then begins to step in the direction of Madilyn and Rian, to be in better earshot, and in doing that he's watching the de facto leader, Althea. Lysander's fire-team begin to check over the civilians, his own rifle still in hand.

Althea is on display! She bears the scruntity with good grace, but she visibly relaxes once Madilyn starts interrogating her. "I'm the only member of the fleet, sir." Althea confirms. "Everyone here is civilian." She pauses, weighing her options, before she adds, "We've got more civilians in a camp set up off the coast on an island, including several people I was unable to treat due to lack of medication and facilities."

Wade just looks at the group for a while longer, not responding to the Captain right away. Finally, he looks at her and nods "Sure" Yep, not a lot of communication there. He takes a step back and turns around, moving back to the barn. "I'm going to get some water and check on the Vipers, see how far from being ready they are" Wanting to leave? Maybe.

Rian takes a step back from Madilyn and relaxes her own stance, looking about the circle of people. Not really anything overly suspicious in the bunch. As Lysander approches and his squad gets to work on searching the civvies she watches in silence.

"Alright, doctor…I'm going to deal with you exclusively until we can get these folks back to our camp. I'm Major Willows-Cavanaugh, Colonial Marine Corps, First Battalion, Ninth Marines. Battlestar Cerberus, BS-132." Nothing like a little validation of who they are; little pet peeve of Madilyn's when folks aren't introduced properly. "Sorry for any rough introduction Corporal Rian here gave you, but they are on patrol." She then raises her voice to make sure that the whole group can hear her. "Alright folks, we're escorting you back to our camp. If you want to make this fast and easy, you should tell my marines what weapons you have and where they can be found so we don't have any nasty surprises on the way back."

Lysander shoulders his rifle with a short exhale and begins to step up to a man, reaching to his arm in the process. He might be armed with more than two weapons, sure, but the marine simply rips a finger into a pocket and withdraws a pair of candy bars, one half-eaten, and offers them to the man he stands in front of. "You look like you need it more than I do," he grins, just a bit, before taking a step back upon the peace offering. His rifle is taken back up, pushing his moment of humanity aside, and he angles a nod up the field towards the rest of Ewe Aerilon before calling out to the other three under his command, "Everything clear?"

"Aye, Sarge," pipes up one. Not even a knife, go figure, but that leads to Sergeant Lysander turning to the Rian and Madilyn, letting the women take the lead. Rian found the bunch. Madilyn's his boss.

"I warned them what to expect, sir." Althea brushes hair out of her face with a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment. "We've got a couple of hunting rifles at the caves the rest are holed up in, several fishing spears, and maybe a dozen pistols. I was the only one armed because I'm the only one with military experience." Meaning the only one she trusted not to go trigger-happy with marines waving guns in their faces.

Her group relaxes, and the saggy man gratefully accepts the candy bar, almost inhaling it. "Thanks, man." He mutters through his full mouth. He and the rest then glance at Althea and Madilyn, waiting for orders.

As the CO apologizes for Rian's own behaviour she can't help but huff in response, "just doing my job." She mumbles mostly to herself, keeping a rough scowl on her face. Dark eyes watch Lysander as he offers a candy bar to a very thankful man, a half smile coming to her lips. As Madilyn turns and starts the trek back to camp Rian waits a few steps before following, remaining silent, her part here is done.

"When we get back to camp, I'll get the coordinates of the other survivors from you, Doctor. Best I can do is relay them back to command, and advise them of the situation, put you on the wireless and have you explain the situation. Do you know the precise makeup and disposition of the other survivors?" Better to know if the Raptors are going to fly into shooting, crazy people, or huddled scared civvies looking for symbols of order.

"I can give you a complete psyche evaluation on all of them." Althea offers a wry smile that doesn't exactly lack humor, but by the same token isn't an expression of happy amusement. "Both an summary of the group dynamics and individual conditions. They should do as told.. I've tried to create a paramilitary structure, encouraging them to look towards order. There's a few that might give you trouble once in custody, but for the most part those I left were the weaker and less healthy with several healthy but mild-mannered in key positions."

Sergeant Lysander lifts a gloved right hand to comb over his dark hair and he looks to the Major with a moment of having reservations, but after a glance to the doctor he keeps his peace, at least for now, and turns in order to help lead the emaciated folk up to the rest of Ewe Aerilon. He does it quietly and efficiently, same with the others of his fire-team.

With the fireteams of Marines accompanying, the civilians are moved back to Ewe Aerilon in short order…part prisoners (if they choose to keep their hands up over their heads like prisoners) and part scared civilians. They aren't discouraged from chatting should they speak up, but it seems like relative silence is the name of the game; the crunch of boots on dirt and swishing sounds of tall grass on fabric set the backdrop. It's not far, and once there, they're let into the custody of the MPs floating around the base, to catalog and inventory possessions, check further for weapons, and get these folks hauled off to find some food.

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