PHD #440: Rising Tensions
Rising Tensions
Summary: An ordinary conversation turns tense between Evan and Van.
Date: 12 May 2042 AE
Related Logs: Bannik Stuff. The 'Hippie Shit' log from 11 May.
Evandreus Samuel Corrath Circe Vandenberg 
Behind the two hangar decks, the Cerberus' Galley is the largest room on the ship. Nearly half the size of a football field, the eating area is made up of long lines of stainless steel tables that can be folded up and placed against the wall for larger events. Individual seats are the standard military issue, boring and grey with lowest-bidder padding. The line for food stretches across one of the shorter sides of the room while the kitchen behind works nearly twenty-four hours a day to produce either full meals or overnight snacks and coffee for the late shifts.
Post-Holocaust Day: #440

Evandreus is sitting at a long rectangular table, one seat away from the end of a row, with the rest of the table having cleared out already. Evan's never exactly been a champ at wolfing down that grub, and he's still at his meal, eating it near to a grain of rice or two at a time while a thick clipboard lurks on the table beside him, his attention mostly there as he 'eats' 'dinner' and scribbles, one leg drawn up underneath him, making him to perch somehow crookedly in place, his head crooked in the opposite direction to balance out the effect.

Vandenberg is in her camoflage green pants - a rare combat outfit for the Marines aboard. It usually signifies ground action. There's sweat on her tanktops and the woman has very obviously been busy. She's only carrying a sandwich when she heads over to stand in front of Evan. "I got that minute, Evan. What's up?" Her other hand lifts a bottle of water to take a sip from.

Evandreus glances upward, and gives a quick nod, "Hey, Vandy. It's not set in stone yet, but it looks like I'll probably be driving the bus out to your thing." Evan's so great with vagaries… and as cool as a cucumber in mentioning it, the casual air camouflaging that bland word 'thing' right into the midst of mess hall chit-chat. "So we should probably get together sometime and do up a timeline checklist so we can run through it once or twice beforehand."

"Ah yeah? Fantastic. We'll need a helluva pilot for that thing." Van just leaves it as vague as Evan did. "Glad we've got you on board. I gotta meet up with Captains Trask and Quinn in the next day or two, also. Something about her running some kind of extraction options? I'm not clear on it. But I got a few minutes if you want to hit it or if there is somethin' else in the meantime and you want to save that for later?" She sets teh sammich plate on the table and lifts the bread to take a bite out, chewing while she watches him.

"Yah, mom's going to do the exit, and we're all working on the plans for it. You're in good hands. We just never want to have any surprises on the big day. The universe will probably throw enough surprises at us as is, without us sitting there winging it, as well," Evan chuckles. "I also just wanted to apologize to you for getting all… bitchy at you. I was holding onto a lot of anger and… just needed to let go of it, instead of lashing out at everyone." If that was lashing out, Evan must take his pacifistic lifestyle very seriously. "Anyhow, there isn't an excuse for it, really. I was just being an ass. I'm really sorry, hon."

Vandenberg chews on the sandwich, watching Evan as he talks. She even rips off another bite, chasing it down with some water as he finishes. "First? Sounds good about the Raptor teams. I'm a little surprised Leyla isn't flying them but that's the call of the CAG. I'm prettty sure she knows what she is doing with selecting crew for this." She smirks, nodding. As to the rest, she shrugs. "Look, Evan. You gotta understand somethin, darlin: This ain't about you. Or me. Its about opinions that are floatin' around this fleet. That was a microchasm of the nasty business we're probably going to see in the future. You don't owe me an apology at all. Seriously. But if you want to do something in the vein of atoning? The next time you see someone like me getting pissed off at shit flying that they don't think should? Remember.. we've got a lot of motivation for our opinions. You gotta be careful with yours. That was a heavily hostile environment you walked into last night - as you probably heard."

Evandreus lifts his shoulders in a half-shrug. "I dunno. It seemed like you were both yelling at someone else who wasn't there, rather than at each other. So maybe it was more collectively agitated than actively hostile. But some people like to yell. It helps some people cope. I understand that," he affirms with a slow, sealing nod of his head, as if embedding the precept into his soul. "I'd like to think I have motivation for my opinions, too, y'know. Even peacenik hippies have the capacity for rational thought, eh?"

"No, we were actively hostile. A lot of this that is going around the fleet is dangerous shit. I'm a career Marine, Evan. I've seen what religion does to people when you have divisive subjects coming up like this this. Especially when you get peaceniks being vocal and actively trying to get their message out." She tears off another bite of the sandwich and downs it with another sip of water. "Look, Evan, here's the crux of the problem: A lot of these believers are peaceful. Well the message pisses people off to irrational levels. So when people keep announcing it like Bannik and his followers are, it gets people fired up and then violence starts. Next thing you know, you've got two parties at gangland style war with each other and tensions running hotter than.." She was probably about to make a sexual reference and decided to stop short. "Other problem is popular control. What happens if Bannik decides the fleet's commanders are going about this all wrong. So people start civil disobedience. Sit-ins, that kinda stuff. You think that's going to be a smart idea on a ship of war?"

"Well, it doesn't matter much how pissed off people are, you shouldn't bring violence against another person. If these people are just saying what they believe, it falls on everyone else not to fly off the handle. You might not agree, but you're an adult, you can decide your own actions. And that applies to everyone on this ship, with the possible exception of Short Kal, who can't even control her own bowel movements yet. You can't blame the victims for peoples' aggression. That sets a bad precedent. Like saying a woman should be raped because she's out of the house naked or provocatively dressed," Evan gives his own opinion. "And if people want to protest what the fleet is up to, again, as long as it's peaceful and they do it over on Areion or in non-restriced areas, who cares? Command should know what people are feeling."

With nothing more then a slight creek, the hatchway to the Galley is opened, allowing Corrath to make his way through and into the room. A soft whistling sound escapes his lips and with only the briefest of looks around, one in which he manages to miss anyone he knows, the former S2 is angling over to the food line, snagging a tray and then angling to wait for his turn. It comes relatively quickly and when the approaches the first cook, he's flashing a quick smile, "Thanks for your help last night. Greatly appreciated." With that said, he's watching as the food is placed on the plate and when it's extended, he's accepting and tossing it down to his tray.

Natalie rips another bite off her sandwich and chews on it, nearly chuckling. She takes her time to finish and closes up the water bottle as she does so, putting it into a cargo pocket on her pants. "Evan? That's wishful thinking. That people should be nice to each other? Its not realistic. Its why socialism doesn't work. People are imperfect and therefore one person will always seek to take advantage of a situation. If nobody wants to hit each other, eventually a bruiser is going to come along and kick everyone else's ass, take their money, and throw them out of their homes. Is that right? Of course not. Will it happen? You better believe it. Wishing it were so doesn't make it so. And saying that people should be able to say whatever they want? Ever heard the phrase that the pen is mightier than the sword? True? I like to think so. That's why when you get dangerous messages like his out there then sometimes its necessary to act on it. I'm not saying I will try to hurt him or anyone, but the guy should be highly concerned for his safety. We're cops. We're reactionary. We can't protecting him all day and all night." She takes up the sandwich again for another bite.

"And the people who can't control their own actions get put in the brig," Evan points out. "I know you guys can't be everywhere. And sometimes bad stuff happens. It's good that you're concerned about his safety, and if you want to talk to him about it, go ahead and talk to him about it. Maybe you'll convince him to tone it down a little. Maybe not. But you're not going to get anywhere screaming at him or calling him names. He's not doing anything illegal, and the burden should be on everyone else to continue to do the same. They saw what happened the last time someone attacked another person on Elpis," Evan notes. "It's a small fleet, there's nowhere to hide. They know if they pull crap they'll get smacked. That'll keep most of them in line. And the ones who won't stay in line… well, they're the ones who'll get smacked." Where smacked = brigged and/or killed. "People are sometimes mean. That doesn't mean we have to cater to them. We should expect the best from people. Not assume we'll get it— that'd be short-sighted. But we should -expect- it of them, no less." Expect here with more the force of a demand than not.

Having just claimed his food, Corrath's making his way over towards the drinks station and it's there that he grabs a glass of water and that stuff that they try to pass off as coffee. Content, at least for the moment, he's turning and beginning to make his way towards one of the tables. It's then that he catches sight of Vandenberg, along with Evan, and there's a quick chuckle before his shoulders lift into a shrug. A shift of direction and he's angling off over towards the pair and as he draws near, there's a flash of a smile and a quick, "Hope I'm not interrupting." Followed by him immediately lowering down to an empty and offering a, "Thanks, don't mind if I do."

In walks a gaggle of medics, just off their shifts, Circe amongst them, overtop unbottoned and wrapped abou ther waist to allow her tanks to be seen. Brand new dogtags swing, shiny and unmarked. Turning her head to speak to one of the woman, she grins. There is a touch of her hand to her shoulder and she moves with the small group to get in the food line. As they bunch up, taking trays and waiting together, there buzz of conversation drifts. Laughing suddenly, Circe shakes her head and murmurs something close to one of the other women and one can suspect the two male medics are the ones targetted with women's conversation.

Vandenberg eats another btie of the sandwich, looking at it while Evan talks and she chews. She seems pretty relaxed about it except for the choice of wording, maybe. So when she sorta tosses the sandwich's remains onto the plate and table, it might be a surprise. Apparently she is done eating. The woman flattens both her hands on the table and leans forward, closer to Evan. Those scars are in plain sight. "I'm well aware of what happens to people who break ranks. I also recall you admonishing someone close to you for executions of those who did. Or should we just brig everyone who wants to keep fighting?" There's a little more bite to her words, her eyes staring right back into his. "Lemme front you a little sceario, Lieutenant Doe." She takes a settling breath. "Bannik's followers, people start listening. Popular opinion sides with him. The fleet is forced to do things before it is militarily ready because it gets impatient to go see their newfround huggiebears on Gemenon." Her voice lowers even more. "My mission has to fly before its ready and cuts the recon time in half because Bannik's friends think its cute that the Cylons want to have a godsdamned teaparty. We jump, we land. We find out that shit ain't the case. One of two things happens.. Either we're captured because we didn't get proper prep time for the op and then my whole team is shot - which goes against this peacenik thing. Or we come home safely, report finding a problem, and nobody believes us. My team is cast as heretics for telling the truth, we fly anyway, and all of humanity is frakked because peace is always the best way to try for." She really doesn't sound to even anymore. "This shit will get people killed Evan. You wait. You want to do something you go talk to Bannik." She rises off the table and looks ato Corrath, fire in her eyes.

There's more people arriving, one of them being Samuel. Dressed for being off duty, he carries a piece of paper in his hand, shaking his head a little bit as he reads what's on the paper. "So that's how it's done…" he mutters, putting the piece of paper in a pocket as he steps over in the direction of the line to get himself some food.

"You extrapolated all of that from 'Bannik's followers'?" Evan points out after the long scenario is detailed for him. "Look, could stuff go wrong? Sure, I can't say it won't. But that's a lot to put on the shoulders of one group of people. Sure, some people are excited to hope that there might be a peaceful coexistance between humnans and cylons possible. I'm one of them. Does that mean I'm going to plan for this thing like we're going to a frakking picnic? No. I'mma do my job and get you ducklings where you need to go. You come back and you tell me shit's gone south… why wouldn't I believe you? And even if someone didn't believe you— if they protest peacefully, why not sit down with them and command and have a conversation? Show them evidence. Convince them. And if they protest unpeacefully, bring them under the law." Which != shoot them in the head.

Both Circe and Samuel's entry into the Galley go unnoticed by Corrath, for he's too busy switching his attention back and forth between Vandenberg and Evan, a rather large grin taking hold of his lips before it's broken as he begins to munch on what passes for food these days. When a break in the conversation begins to happen and Vandenberg rises to her feet, the JAG simply lofts a brow upwards, head canting to the side before he finally settles his gaze on Evan, "Technically, during a time of martial law, protesting is considered illegal." Now, he's casting a look back towards Van and then Evan and then back and forth, "Butchayaknow .." Yes, he ran that together, for he's trying to talk in between munching on his food, "I think it's time for a time out. Maybe continue round two after you've both taken a breath?"

In line with her friends, she is leaning back to talk to one of guys and pauses upon seeing Samuel enter. Circe gives the MP a wave. That is when she sees the three in conversation and mostly watches Vandenberg a moment, tilting her head before somethint that is said catches her attention and brings her back to the conversation. Her lips part and she laughs, turning to receive some food, motioning to it. Definitely not what Cor had brought her the night before. Fruit. She grins at the thought and casts a look back over her shoulder at the officer. She moves down the line, giving her attention back to it.

Vandenberg turrets her head back at Evan. "Yeah, I did. Because some of his followers are already citing the Gods as his excuse for everything. If he is some kind of messenger or considered favored by the Gods, do you have any damned idea what that is going to do? Well Bannik quit his post at Condition One - but that's okay because the Gods like him. Well geez, maybe I could go for a snack under Condition One. Don't worry, the Gods favor me. This is already religious, Evan. When you inject religion into these things, it becomes explosive. You know why people wouldn't believe me? Because they already believe in Bannik. If we come back from this mission and we find evidence that the Cylons aren't being straight? If my gut tells me negative? I'm going to tell Command to stay away from Gemenon. I may not have all the fancy proof required to convince a religious person that their Blessed Bannik isn't right. What happens then? What happens to me? I'm entitled to my opinion. I'm not hurting anyone. All of a sudden I'm on the wrong side of the Gods and responsible for humanity turning away from them. How's that for fair?" Her words are biting. She hears Corrath and stands tall, looking at Evan for a moment longer before turning her gaze to Corrath. "No, I think I'm done. I've got enough to deal with on my plate." She turns her body to head off and towards the door.

Grabbing a tray and tossing it lightly into the air, Samuel notices that wave from Circe and offers a wave in return, with the tray and all. Turning back to the line a bit more, he shakes his head, "Wonder what they serve on this wonderful day," he remarks, to nobody in particular as he waits for his food.

"I thought he got brigged for leaving his post," Evan replies. At least, he seems to recall Bannik being in the brig for some considerable period of time. "Vandy," Evan tilts his head, reaching out for her— not angrily, just trying to touch her arm, a gesture of comfort. "Of course you'll have the right to say things are sour down there. I never said you didn't. You bring your facts to the table, they bring their facts to the table… we work it out. Or. Command works it out. Vandy, you're getting upset," Evan murmurs after her, sad-eyed and worried-voiced. "You're churning all these possibilities over and over in your head, and… nothing's even happened, yet."

There's a loft of his brow, one that's focused on both Evan and Vandenberg and with a shrug of his shoulders, Corrath simply continues to much on his food for another moment. It's only when Evan reaches out to touch Van that the JAG stops eating and begins to ease himself from his seat, snagging his tray in the process and proceeding to take a couple of steps backwards.

Circe is nearly through the line, hooking about as she is still talking with the other medics. Giving them a nod, she parts from them and and starts to swing over to the once table of three. As she sees Cor taking his leave, a brow lifts, looking beyond to Evan and Vandenberg. Clearing her throat, the medic moves over to the once S2 and places her hand to the small of his back. "Come on.." She says and nods to the other two before offering to steer him away to another table. "Sam, join us." she calls.

Vandenberg turns at the attempt to touch, twisting away hard with her burned and scarred arms. "No, Evan. He was brigged for his own protection as far as I know. Or being held until Damon found out and came to his rescue." That part is nearly spat. "Yeah, I imagine a lot of different things happening. That's my job. My men need me to examine possibilities so I can bring them all home safely. I'm not some dumb jock going off half-cocked, Lieutenant. I've got more time in combat than you've got in the military. I know what I'm talking about, Evan. I've seen this before. You don't convince the religious with facts. Belief is stronger than that. It has to be." She clenches her jaw quickly, lifting a finger to point towards him angrily. "I'm not upset with you, Evan. Quit pouting. I'm sick of the attitude about playing nice. These things killed our godsdamned families and its like nobody in this motherfrakking fleet can be assed to be reminded of it without calling the voice bloodthirsty or childish for wanting to hit back. Sorry. I ain't playin' that game." The hand drops, bouncing off her hip. "I'll find you for your briefing and more later. For now, I suggest you keep your distance." Its not Vandenberg looking on the verge of tears - that was a downright warning. She holds his gaze another beaten breath and then she heads off for the hatch. The water is taken from her pocket and chucked hard into a trashcan as she passes.

Samuel blinks a bit as he sees the exchange of opinions, his grin disappearing for a few moments, but it's soon back on his face as he loads up his food and moves away from the line. Pausing a bit as he hears someone mention his name, before he notices the who and where, and starts moving in that direction now, glancing back towards the hatch a bit briefly. "Someone's not having a good day…"

Evandreus squints one eye in something nearing consternation when he's accused of pouting. "I'm just worried about you, Van," he tells her, keeping his own posture slack and voice as gentle as ever. "There's thinking ahead and there's driving yourself over a cliff, and— I worry, okay? I already apologized for the things I said to you before. I was wrong to have said them," he reiterates for her, slow and mild, then just gives her a gentle nod at her request to leave her alone, turning back to his meal and finally looking across to Corrath. "Sorry, dude," he tells him.

Feeling someone's hand come to rest on his back, Corrath's shifting his attention to Circe, flashing a quick smile before giving a nod of his head, "Good idea." Just as he begins to move to follow her, he's casting a look back over in the direction of Evan, lips curving into a faint smirk as he gives a shake of his head, "It's not me you need to be apologizing too, Lieutenant." That said, he's turning and moving to follow towards the other table.

"Best not get involved." even if Vandenberg is leaving before things get ugly, Circe is leading Corrath away. Even will need some time, that is for sure. As she nears a table, she drops her tray down and slides into a chair. Offering a soft smile to him, her hazel eyes watch the other Captain in the room for a long moment, her head tilting as she draws a long breath. "Tensions are growing more.." She observes

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