PHD #458: Possible Parallels
Possible Parallels
Summary: Bannik and Cora discuss possible interpretations of the text inside the Ark, and its possible relevance to Gemenon, skinjob-hunting, and life in general. Bannik's detainment and resulting manifestos are touched on as well.
Date: 30 May 2042 AE
Related Logs: Some to be added later. Maybe by Bannik. >.>
Bannik Cora 
TACCO's Office
This room doesn't have a desc, because I have been too lazy to give it one. It's an office, it has filing cabinets and papers in it and often, a TACCO.
Condition Level: 3 - All Clear
Post-Holocaust Day: #458

Knock. Knock. Bannik raps lightly on the door to the TACCO's office. When he is admitted — well, usually, the Deckhand prophet isn't Command's most popular visitor. "Sir?" asks the Specialist. "Is this a bad time?" He's clutching an octagonal folder under his arm, with a couple of papers in it.

Cora looks up from her desk and the papers arrayed around her laptop, eyeing the deckhand in her doorway. "Come in, Specialist Bannik. Have a seat." She glances sidelong at a notebook on the corner of her desk and then inquires, "I'm not mistaken in believing that there was no meeting scheduled, am I? What do you have?"

"Ah. No. Nothing scheduled." Bannik shakes his head. "I was — ah. I was thinking about something, with that translation we got from the Ark Ship." He settles into a seat, pulling out a copy of the text that he has written on. "Do you believe in the stories in the Scrolls, sir? That this has all happened before?"

Cora nods as Bannik confirms that her schedule-book is not in error, and sits back to listen as he sits and begins. "No, not really," she answers with a shifting of one shoulder, following the words with a semi-dismissive twist of her wrist, "But I try to keep an open mind. Go on."

"Don't worry." Tyr offers a faint flash of a smile. "I'm not here to preach or anything." He glances down at the papers. "But I was thinking about the translation. It lists twelve archetypes — 'Gods of spirit made flesh by our hands, tainted by the touch of mortality.' It seems as if these archetypes were behind the Twelve Tribes." A pause. "Does that sound right?"

Lords of Kobol - guide and protect us, though we are exiles.

The Judge, the Guide, the Father, the Huntress, the Mariner, the Warlord, the Consort, the Gardener, the Matriarch, the Fire-Tender, the Poet, and the Smith. Gods of spirit made flesh by our own hands, tainted by the touch of mortality.

We Twelve Tribes of Kobol, once proud - betrayed by our own faith. Betrayed by our own, yet not our own. Guide us safely to salvation, annointed by the blood of Athena. Protect us from the hand of the Unnamed. Protect us from the coils of the Great Serpent now and forever.

"I did not think you were," Cora replies, with a faint, crooked smile, "That would be quite a waste of both our time. They sound more like descriptions of the gods, to me," she goes on, "But that they correspond with the twelve tribes seems possible as well, yes."

"Well, I mean, these twelve gods — whatever they are — caused the downfall of the Tribes." Bannik tries to sketch out his thoughts. "But twelve gods that caused the downfall; twelve — models of Cylons?" He tries to show the link.

"I see the parallel, yes," Cora nods, "Not a direct one, of course, as I should think even you these days would shy from calling the Cylons gods," here her lips quirk slightly once again, "But a set of twelve causing the downfall and exile of man, yes."

"I never said I was drawing a parallel between gods and the Cylons. But then — look. Twelve archetypes." And above each of the twelve archetypes, he's written numbers: One, Two, Three, and so on. And then next to that he's written names: Rejn, McQueen. One for each model they have an identity. "Consider Yazdah. The Elevens. That corresponds to the Poet. It fits, doesn't it? Her vivid dreams. Her drawing."

"The Elevens we have encountered could charitably be described as 'poetic', yes," Cora nods, glancing at Bannik's page. "I'm not convinced that they all make sense quite in order, however," she points out, "I mean, the Five as The Mariner? I can't see any connection there."

"That is one that troubled me, too," confesses Bannik. "But look at some of the others. Alan Rejn as the Judge. McQueen called him a 'disapproving parent.' Like he was judging them, right? The Sixes. What were they called? 'The ultimate warriors.'" He points at the page, the sixth one in the list. "The Warlord. Doesn't it sort of make sense?"

"Some of them do," Cora agrees with a nod, "Though why One is the Judge and not the Father, I'm not sure. 'Father' seems like a title that ought to go to the first. Of what is Three the father?" She taps a finger against the edge of her desk and shrugs, "It is tempting," she admits, "But not quite as…clean a fit as I would like. Assume, however, that these do correspond," she offers, "Then what, Specialist?"

"True. But maybe it's not in order. But maybe those are the twelve archetypes. They correspond to the twelve models of Cylons. That shows the link between what happened before and what's happening now. It shows — I don't know. It's part of the story of humanity, it gives credit to the Scrolls. And if we can figure out which archetypes we've already discovered, we know what sorts of Cylons are left to be discovered. That's useful for intel, right?" Bannik looks at Cora, as if expecting some sort of praise for his revelation. Or at least the idea that it's worthwhile.

"I'm not sure I would say it gives credence to the scrolls," Cora disagrees, "As to my knowledge, nothing like this," she gestures at the text from the Ark, "Is present in the Scrolls. But," she goes on, "It could theoretically provide some guidance in terms of understanding the various Cylon models, yes. And it does fit with other pieces of intelligence we've gathered elsewhere regarding serpents and patterns and this bit about Athena as well," she says, indicating the middle sentence of the second paragraph. "Do you know anything about that?" she inquires curiously, "A belief in the death of Athena on Kobol?"

Bannik shakes his head slightly. "Only what the Scrolls teach of it," admits the Specialist. "But there was one thing that hit me, something I observed when I was on Gemenon. One of the Benedictions that the Cylons offered while in prayer — when they prayed with their Centurions — was 'My blood for theirs.' And it took me some time to figure out where I had heard that before."

Cora lifts a brow. "I don't recall reading of that previously," she replies, "That will need to be added in an addendum to the reports of your time on Gemenon. It does sound familiar," she admits, brows drawing together in the suggestion of a frown, gaze unfocusing as she attempts to recall where she has heard it before.

"I don't know if you were even onboard when it happened. Lance Corporal Brenner. It was when the Cylons attacked in the main stairwell. The reports said that the Colonials were under heavy fire, but that Brenner shouted 'My blood for theirs' and that they — the Centurions, like, nodded, and then shut down." Bannik gives the explanation somewhat disjointedly, as if he's just putting it together for himself.

"Brenner," Cora repeats, and then it clicks as Bannik goes on and she nods, "Yes, that's right. I was not yet on board but I have read the file. It was flagged as an unusual incident I ought to take a look at." She lifts a hand to smooth her hair briefly and then nods once more, "That is quite strange. I will need to pull Brenner's personnel file and circulate a photo, in case it turns out he is a Cylon as well, that seems possible, certainly."

"What's more, Brenner was shouting about an 'all-seeing God of Justice.' Well, when the Cylons held their services, they also talked about a universal diety, a god of Justice." Bannik sighs. "I don't know if he's a Cylon or anything. When I talked to the Sister about it, she said that it was a common Benediction. But —" His voice comes out in a puff. "I don't know. I thought it wasn't just a coincidence. The link between his shouts and the Cylons deactivating and what I heard on Gemenon. So I wanted to bring it to Intel."

"Is it?" Cora inquires, "A common benediction? I cannot say that it is one I have heard before, but then I always cannot remember the last time I attended a service. In any case," she replies, "We cannot be too cautious when it comes to such things, and as Brenner is dead, there's no harm to be done by putting about his photo just in case. I will pass this along to the Marines. I may also ask," she goes on, "That you sit down with Captain Yves, the new Intelligence Officer. Ideally, I will be catching him up on such things myself, but it may be needed."

"I didn't know it, but the Sister called it the 'xeniac exchange in the sight of Zeus.'" Bannik lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "I don't know her fancy academic words, but that's what she said." He nods once, though. "Of course. I'd be happy to talk to whoever you want."

Cora rubs at an eyebrow and nods, repeating, "The xeniac exchange in the sight of Zeus. Of course." She smooths her brow once more and then nods, "Well, I will… have an aide look that up," she says, with a brief quirk of a smile, "While I deal with other things. Remind me, please: did you get a look at the cavern on Gemenon, the one featured in the video that was sent?"

Bannik shakes his head. "I didn't, no. But the writing in the video seemed the same as that in the Ark Ship." He looks down at the octagonal paper. "You know I believe that there's a link between the two. But I also know that you won't just take my word for it."

"It is the same language, yes," Cora confirms, "We were able to translate the portions visible in the video as well. I have the text around here somewhere." She glances through a stack of files, continuing as she does, "In addition, the raiders communicated a phrase identical to one found in the ark. However," she goes on, "There was substantial evidence to indicate that the Cylons had located the ark before we did, so these links could have been constructed by them."

"Anything's possible," admits Bannik with a certain dubiousness to it. "Or it could be that they were actually telling the truth, sir. That this is part of the last iteration of the story that's happened before; that this is the story that's happening now. That we're playing a role in, a role foretold by the gods." But he stops himself. "Is there anything I can do for you, sir? I still want to be of service, no matter what Command thinks of my writings."

"Possible," Cora allows with a simple nod, repeating her earlier words, "I try to keep an open mind. It is the first step to comprehensive intelligence gathering." She reaches for her coffee and takes a sip, considering. "Well," she replies, "I would like you to stop writing 'manifestos'," she says, a shade dryly, "As they make it more difficult to choose a journey to Gemenon without seeming to capitulate to a small but vocal religious minority and in so doing set a dangerous precedent. But I suspect you will not be doing that."

Bannik doesn't really engage the arguement. "Am I getting a copy of the recon report from the Gemenon ground team?" His tone suggests that he knows that answer is 'no,' too. He transitions: "Is there anything else I can do, sir?"

"Am I getting a pony?" Cora retorts. It is a 'no', obviously, but a relatively good-natured one, considering. "You can have a copy of the AAR," she informs him, "That's being made available, but a more detailed report, not at this time. As for anything else, I don't believe so. Not off the top of my head. Do let me know if you remember anything else of interest."

"Thank you, sir." Bannik gets to his feet. "You know, it didn't have to happen like this. I didn't have to be at odds with Command, with the Marines. But when I got back, I got shoved into a cell, called a coward and a traitor, charged as a desserter. No one wanted to hear the Message I was given, take it seriously. So I had to make sure it got out somehow. I could've been part of the team if Command had just let me be. But — this is how it happened. I'm sorry."

"Precautions have to be taken, Specialist," Cora replies, neither hostile nor apologetic, "And the law is the law. Given that you were then released and have not been charged, I'm not sure I see the problem. I've been called worse than a traitor myself, it's best not to take it quite so personally, I find. It was unfortunate that I was not able to come question you myself as I had planned, other matters kept me from dealing with that, but I can assure you that I and the other members of command have read your account and that of Miss Averies with interest. Just because we have not yet responded in the way you would like does not mean we aren't listening, Specialist. That is something I think you and many others could do well to remember."

"Of course, sir. I'll keep it in mind." But it's said with a flat tone, as if Bannik is used to such admonitions by now. "Thank you for your time. I hope what I thought of is some help; can you let me know what happens with Brenner?"

"It was," Cora confirms Bannik's helpfulness with a nod, "Thank you for bringing it to me. I have always valued your input, Specialist," she reminds him, just a bit dry, "You could try to remember that, as well. And yes, I will let you know if we are able to determine anything about Lance Corporal Brenner. If you remember anything else about him, please let me know."

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