| Point of Interest |
| Summary: | Pre-recon briefing on Gemenon and discussion of Evandreus' sleeping habits. The topics have some strange things in common. |
| Date: | 18 Aug 2041 AE |
| Related Logs: | The Gods Must Be Crazy; Peace, Love and Cylons |
| Players: |
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| Ready Room - Deck 7 - Battlestar Cerberus |
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| With the hatches at the rear of the room, the walkways on both sides slope down towards the dais at the front of the room. The stadium seating forms a partial semi-circle around the speaking podium and provides enough seats for all three hundred members of the Air Wing. The walls are adorned with the patches of each squadron aboard and their mottos stenciled in white lettering above each one. Behind the podium is a set of large LCD screens that can display any matter of material from reconnaissance to maps to gun camera footage. |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #173 |
As much of a bundle of boyish fun wrapped up in a rainbow as Evan usually is, especially now that he's on his regimen of happy pills from the shrink's office, getting tapped for another trip out to a Colony is enough to bring him down a few notches. Not glum, just— serious. Focused. A bit of a chewy 'fruit' roll clenched between his teeth, sticking out with its size, shape and angle reminiscent of a cigar, a pencil stub over one ear and a sheaf of bound data printouts from the last Gemenese recon under his arm, the Raptor Driver half-jogs into the ready room for briefing, hopping down the stairs two at a time and then landing in a seat up front. Just a little early, giving him time to get his notebook out of the binder and the pencil out of his hair.
Cidra exudes no rainbows of any kind, either usually or at the moment. She's seated in one of the front row chairs, a controller in her hand. As she clicks it toward the LCD screens, the flash photos of both the space around and planetary topography of Gemenon herself. Early as Evan is, she does not immediately notice he's entered. She just sits, going through the photographs. Expression somber as she flashes over them.
If fumbling for his pencil and ends up pushing it back past his ear entirely and sending it tinking down between his seat and the seat next to his. He reaches down after it, but the awkward angle it's sending his arm eventually sends him onto his knees on the chair, bending down to get all the way down to the floor and nab it, face smushed against the armrest. Inelegant, but at least he gets his pencil back and is back on his butt in his chair in time to look at the chronometer, then at the CAG. She's still getting ready, though, so he doesn't bug her.
Cidra blinks. Finally noticing Evandreus when he goes through his pencil acrobatics. She clears her throat, giving her head a small shake. As if trying to clear it, and get her features into a proper state of inscrutability. "Lieutenant Doe." She stands, posture fluid. "I do thank you for coming. You have been assigned the reconnaissance run out to Gemenon, as you know. I hope you have familiarized yourself with both the starcharts and geographical maps provided. Our runs to Sagittaron and Aerilon showed signs the Cylons had - at least on the surface - deserted those colonies and we were able to get our noses much closer to the ground than we had before. Perhaps you can do so here as well."
Evandreus pats his notebook — or, more importantly, the sheaf of printouts underneath his notebook — in wordless affirmation that he has, in fact, been studying the material. His nostrils flare with a deep breath in; his back straightens, and he replies, "Yah, I heard. Are we going to be jumping directly into orbit, then, or starting at passive scan proximity and heading in after we see whether we've got signs of company?"
Cidra flicks her controller so it's got a decent orbital shot of the planet up. "Jump in long range, as we have done before. I do want to get a sense if there is still Cylon presence around the planet or not, or if they have given the appearance of pulling out. While we found Sagittaron and Aerilon *apparently* deserted…" Apparently. She's not going to entirely buy into it. "…they appeared to be fortifying their presence around Virgon. We found patrols both thicker and farther out than we had encountered before. I would advise jumping about two clicks out from where the initial post-attacks reconnaissance Raptor went in. That should give you enough warning on passive DRADIS if there are Raiders present. If not, it is not as if a long ride in shall hurt our efforts."
Evandreus scrawls some notes on the top of the next page of note paper, then flips the sheaf of papers in the binder to the first of several marked with sticky tabs, annotating some formulae with the necessary corrections to initial orbital approach out from two clicks further than anticipated. And without a calculator. "Two clicks back," he affirms that he heard what she said. "No problem. What sort of level of Cylon activity should I be looking at in terms of a Gitfo threshold?" he wonders. Which is a polite way of asking how important this recon info is to get vis a vis the possibility of losing the Raptor if things go south. Somewhere between 'you see a raider, you bug out' and 'you see a basestar, you GET THAT DATA ANYHOW.'
"My DRADIS picked up at least ten basestar signatures around Virgon before I returned to base," Cidra replies. "All told, I was only able to get in for about two minutes. But we did manage to get a bit of footage. This is not meant to be a run into the teeth of the enemy, Doe. Reconnaissance does us very little good if it never returns. But it is very important right now we get an idea of what the Cylons are up to, and if there are any traces of survivors on these outer colonies." She does not actually use the name of her homeworld as she discusses this. "If the Cylons still have a hold there, that will tell us something right off. That they are using it in a way they are not, by appearances, Sagittaron and Aerilon. If you do not detect any enemy presence, however, you shall need to get into low orbit and see as much as you can see."
Evandreus doesn't actually write any of that down, since it's not anything that can really be measured rather than sensed out in the field. But he's flown recon that pinged at least eight basestars before, and lived. Ten's only… two more than that. And so he just internalizes the situation and gives a slow, lanky nod that bends his upper back a little bit, making him waver like a reed in the wind. "Right. Any particular coordinates you want included on the low orbit pass?" And he's thumbing to his third sticky tab, ready to mark down the coordinates in preparation for plotting the degree of the orbit.
"A fair few. I have marked them in your packet," Cidra says. "If you do manage to get into low orbit - and then down into atmosphere - get at least one pass over the Kobol Colleges. Our initial findings showed the planet's most important holy sites had been nuked with precision…" A pause. She busies herself with clicking. "…but the Colleges were something of an oddity on Gemenon, really. Though they were originally built as a place of spiritual learning, they had grown into one of the more…worldly locations on the planet. There was more Outside influence there than anywhere else." Her tone capitalizes the word 'Outside.' There is Gemenon and then there's the all-encompassing 'Other.' She clears her throat again. "In any case, I would like a closer look at the pattern of destruction in that area."
Evandreus just notes down the LID coordinates from the screen on the page he's produced, leaving the task of working out the course to when he's not being briefed. He notices Cidra having a few moments of hesitation in the briefing, but does nothing to call attention to them, figuring that hugs in the middle of briefing time would a) be inappropriate and b) just make things worse. So he just gives a terse, professional nod as he takes down the LID, eyes on the display rather than on the CAG.
Cidra is probably the better for not being hugged at the moment. There are a few more locations of spiritual importance marked in Evandreus' packet, but it's hardly an all-encompassing pilgrimage to Fundyland. "The population centers were, unfortunately, largely concentrated around the religious sites. We have found our strongest evidence of survivors in the wilderness areas on Sagittaron and Aerilon. My advice would be to concentrate on the western coastline and to mountain ranges just inland from it. There were a number of subsistence fishing enclaves there, and some communal farms in the canyon valleys. You and your ECO should keep your eyes and scanners out for anything suggestive. Smoke from campfires, wireless traffic that doesn't correspond to Cylon bands, concentrated heat signatures…anything. Oh. We have also in our latest efforts found traces of Cylon construction on those worlds. Bases of some sort. Abandoned, again by all appearances, but they were doing *something* down there. Keep sharp for signs of the same. The photographs we got of those from Sagittaron and Aerilon are, likewise, enclosed."
"Right," Evan nods, once more, writing down another few coordinates. "We should probably time the jump to hit that coastline on the yonder side of midnight longitude, the better to pick up concentrated heat sigs against the cooler earth," he goes on. Mostly to himself. Then, eyes shifting back toward the CAG, "Any sort of fingerprint emissions from these structures, or are they completely powered down?"
"Entirely powered down. On both colonies," Cidra answers. "There were anti-aircraft guns arrayed in spots around these structure by they, likewise, were unmanned. No one was home." This sits less well with her, perhaps, than if those Raptors had faced fire from the planet. But on she goes. "Good notion about timing. There is just one last thing. Are you familiar with a place called Lampridis Falls?"
"'Kay. We'll keep an eye out, maybe look over the other readings and see if we can come up with any compositional oddities that could help us pinpoint Cylon constructs," Evan goes on, wrinkling his nose up and to one side in an almost childlike look of intense thought. The last query calls his eyes up to the CAG, brows drawn toward his hairline, mouth opening to let a tumbling of ill-composed, spontaneous laughter come bubbling out before he stifles it, growing rosy in the cheeks as he grins and looks away, embarrassed by the sudden laughter in mid-briefing, but still mildly amused by the sudden mention of the place. "Um, yeah, a… little. I'm sorry, it was just weird," he backpedals, trying to explain his sudden merriment lest she find him light-hearted over the ruins of her homeland. "I had this really weird dream just, like, last week or so, about that place. Sorry, it just… coincidence," he trails off sort of feebly, giving her the apologetic Doe eyes and then clearing his throat.
Cidra's cloudy blue eyes lock on Evandreus. Narrowing intently. Surprise there. And an intense sort of scrutiny that is not entirely pleased. "You had a vision?" Not dream. Her wording seems most specific. She hesitates a beat. As if reluctant to say aloud what is coming next. But she does make herself go on. "Not two weeks ago I spoke to a Marine who had dreamt of this place. Lampridis Falls…" Her accent lingers on the 'i' sounds, drawling along them, softening the 'l's. "It is an odd place for an Outsider to dream of. It is not a holy site in and of itself, though it was named for a location on Kobol that the Histories of the Faiths teach us was of much importance before the Exodus."
Evandreus gets that goofy, crooked grin of his under control when the CAG looks at him Like That. "I had… a dream, yeah," he tries to re-couch it in less creepifying terms. "It was a—" tourist trap, he would usually call it, but he recoils short of using those words in this context, "Point of interest. I heard of it, once or twice, flying ICTC into Kaernu. There was a shuttle out of that spaceport that used to take people out there," he explains his glancing familiarity with the site. "I never went. I don't know why I thought of it, but I dreamed I… died in this explosion and instead of the underworld we went to Lampridis Falls." Pronounced, of course, like a Leontinian, all nasally vowels and consonants either too strong or nearly dropped. "It was pretty crazy."
Cidra's eyes do some more locking and narrowing at Evandreus. "Shared dreams are very powerful, Doe. Do not make light of them." Even if he wants to, it would be wise not to with her, it appears. She crosses her arms along her chest, just listening to him as he recounts that. "The Marine I did speak to, Sergeant Rufinus I do believe his name was, said he had never been to the place. But he recounted much the same experience…" A small shake of her head. She seems about to go on with the geographic portion of the show, but backtracks to ask, earnestly, "What did you *do*? When you had this…dream, if you insist? Where were you? Were you in meditation? Had you used anything in particular to achieve a state of openness?"
Evandreus begins to look just a -little- tweaked by all of this. "Really? Like… the -same- dream? Did he, like, meet this weird old couple out in the woods and eat lotuskabobs?" he asks. Certainly two different brains can't come up with something that weird all on their own. "There were some Marines there… the Major… the… Marine CO. And some other guy. Uh…" he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to drag details out of the haze. "Splash was there, and, um. Macer. Nurse Macer." He looks up at the last bit of questioning. "Um. I'm still off booze until sickbay's sure my liver's got its act together, if that's what you're asking." Weekly blood and urine tests, for the time being, are keeping tabs on that, but everything's still running smooth. "I was… asleep. In my bunk."
"Ensign Malone?" That another of the pilots was involved catches Cidra's attention above all. A slim frown crosses her face. A shake of her head and dismissive wave of her wrist when Evandreus assures her he was not drinking. If anything, this further frustrates her. "This is fearful strange…" It is murmured beneath her breath. Another shake of her head. "I cannot say in detail. I did not experience this myself." A touch of bitterness in her tone perhaps? Perhaps. "But it sounds most similar to what he did describe." She sighs. "Do you feel yourself up to go upon this, Doe? If you do not, say it now. I can assign another pilot. Though I do admit. I should prefer not to…" Now more than before, it appears.
"Yah, Malone," Evan affirms, then looks down at all of his notes as if they were suddenly in a foreign language. Strange things are afoot at the Circle K. He snaps back out of it, though, head whipping up to look to Cidra. "Of course, sir. I'll be fine," he tells her, putting on his best Fearless Pilot voice. "Maybe I should talk with this guy. Sergeant, what did you say… Rufinus?" he goes to write it down.
"I do believe that was his name. And yes. Do. The others as well. Splash. Major Cavanaugh. That nurse you mentioned…all most strange…" Cidra's go back to aerial map she has displayed on the screen. The Falls themselves are highlighted with a prick of red. She clicks the screen off. "The details are in the information you have been forwarded. Is there…anything further?" She seems reluctant to dismiss him, but official business is concluded. And the strange eludes her, though she may not want to admit it.
Evandreus can sense just a little bit of that 'don't go' noise underneath her question, and so, since he doesn't have any other questions pertinent to the mission, and the official business, as has been mentioned, is finished, he shifts up and out of his seat, coming to half-perch with a hip atop the desk in front of where she's sitting. "Yah," he answers her, voice more personable than before. "You holding up okay?" he asks her, eyes warm with a platonic affection as he gives her a looking-over. "We'll get the dream thing sorted." Though he has no notion how. She seems agitated, and he wants to make it better.
"Well as any can say they are," is Cidra's non-answer to the personal question. "You are dismissed, Doe. Clear eyes and steady hands out there." She straightens, ready to return the proper salute and send him upon his way. Out into the strange.
Evandreus tried. But, rebuffed, he just nods his head wanly and shuffles back to his seat, gathering up his gear. "Aye, sir," he tells her, coming around once he's all situated, notebook tucked in binder under his arm, other arm free to knock out that salute she's waiting for and head on out.
Cidra acknowledges said salute and sends Evandreus on his way. She'll linger in the Ready Room, with her maps, lights dimmed.