PHD #340: Settle Down
Settle Down
Summary: Van returns from the mob assault on the Elpis to talk to Watters and Mathers.
Date: 01 Feb 2042 AE
Related Logs: Gravity; Various OSM stuff.
Watters Mathers Vandenberg 
More than just an office for the Marines and their XO, this room has remote surveillance views of the Brigs as well as a state of the art communications center built into the far bulkhead. A locked and heavily armored door to the aft leads into another room, the white lettering on it reading 'ARMORY.' There are a few desks scattered around the room for getting necessary paperwork done and the Commandant's picture hangs on the wall next to one of the President.
Post-Holocaust Day: #340

Vandenberg was supposed to be working the overnight shift on Elpis with a mixed fireteam tonight. She was supposed to have a quiet night walking hallways. Such is life. The Marine Lieutenant pushes through the hatch into the Security Hub, though. She's in her dress-brown Marine pants with her duty belt and shined boots. But she's missing her shirt. There's blood splotched on her knees and dripped across her thighs, flecks of it still smeared across her arms. She doesn't even look at anyone else. The shiny black MP helmet is tossed onto another desk on the way by as she turns and moves for her desk drawers. Someone needs a smoke.

Watters apparently needs to work on his sense of timing. After all, dropping into the office in the hopes of catching its occupant probably wasn't such a bad plan, right up until the part where he spotted her in blood-splotched clothing. "Lieutenant Vandenberg?" Watters says after regarding her curiously for a moment, half a greeting and half an attempt to make sure he's pestering the right person.

Mathers didn't hear the call for the medical evac off the Elpis, but you damn well better believe someone thought it was important enough to rouse the XO from his bunk and make sure he drug his sleeping ass back to the Security Hub. Not long after Vandenberg makes her glorious bloody entry, does Mathers push through the hatch still shouldering his uniform on and making quick work of the fasteners. "Report." It's one word, aimed at no one in particular but somebody better have an answer.

Van slams the drawer shut and lights a cigarette, tossing the book of matches sidearmed onto the desk. She takes an angry pull on the smoke and looks at Matters as he approaches. The smoke is held between two fingers that get aimed at him. She lets that Cancerian accent hang all the way out. "Look, that motherfrakker had it coming. If you're his JAG lawyer here this fast, you better frakking understand that I'm in no godsdamned mood to give a statement. I'da been within my rights to have shot the sunuvabitch." There's fire in those eyes. There's a pause while she stares at him and takes another angry pull on the smoke. That's when Mathers rolls in, possibly saving the poor Watters from Van's wrath. "Captain," she greets, tapping her fingers to her temple. "We're over on Elpis during shift change. Staff Sergeant Boelyn lost one of her men just before the shift change then we start hearing a fight in the galley. My team and I respond in time to see this older guy getting chased out of the chow hall bleeding like a stuck pig." Another angry puff. "One of this crew on the beatdown team? One of Lunair's boys: PFC Sholty. There were four in total. We wrecking crewed two of them, Sholty included, and the other two got away. There was some photographer there too that got the whole goddamn thing from a balcony. He escaped, too." This would explain the anger, most likely.

Watters blinks at the response that he gets from Vandenberg, though he looks more amused than intimidated by it. Still, with someone higher up the food chain than he is calling for a report, Watters apparently decides this isn't the moment to press the issue further. Instead, he falls silent to let the other two deal with their business.

There's a grunt of acknowledgement at Vandenberg's words, even as Mathers stalks over to center his attention on the bloody Lieutenant. "Any indication who started the altercation, or are we sorting that out after everyone is conscious again?" His voice is brusque, all business, as he hand plucks Vandenberg's cigarette out of her fingers and props it between his own lips. He's not smoking it, mind, just getting it out of the way as his hands do a quick search of his S3's person to make sure none of that blood is her own. Her hands get held and turned over, arms checked and then released. Her head gets turned this way and that by her chin, and then he's patting her once on the cheek as if he's satisfied she's relatively unscathed. As he's holding out her cigarette to retake, he's taking the time to eyeball Watters. Recognition dawns, "Lieutenant Junior Grade Andrew Watters." It's an easy power of deduction, as there are so few Commissioned officers wearing marine garb. "Our new S4."

Van looks like she might explode when the smoke is taken but as he starts looking her over, the woman seems to calm down somewhat. Her eyes turn down when he turns her chin and pats her cheek. Its a relief to know he's concerned. "Just my guesses, sir," she huffs, taking the smoke back. A swallow and her eyes lift back to the Captain. "He sounded like he was trying to defend himself vocally. Something about artificial intelligence or some shit. My guess is that this mob was blaming him for the war. He's in bad shape, though. Ruined my shirt trying to stop the bleeding. Sholty, frak him, took some serious damage, too. If we even let him back into the fold its going to be weeks. Lady and I beat the hell out of him. Two of the guys had brass knuckles, too." Which means deadly force would have been authorized. She takes another pull on the smoke and looks to Watters, lifting her chin. "Oh, yeah. Sorry." She steps over to shake his hand. "Sorry about that. Just a little wired." Eyes glance back to Mathers. "O'Hare needs to PT his boys. Kincaid could stand some time in the gym."

Watters reaches out, shaking the offered hand. "Occupational hazard, that" Watters replies in response to the apology. "And a pleasure to meet you" he adds, even managing to avoid making it sound sarcastic. "I was actually here at the Major's request. She mentioned you had an operation in the works that you'd want to speak with me about" he explains to Vandenberg. "But, if you want to take some time to punch something first, I'll wait"

"Welcome aboard, Watters." If Andrew was expecting fanfare, Mathers is decidedly lacking tonight. Might have something to do with the unfortunately more pressing matter at hand. "If there was a photographer there, there is bound to be fall out from the civilians. Expect another one of those damnable manifestos to surface. Double security rounds on the Elpis, get yourself cleaned up, and get a report on Command's desk before the end of shift. I'll pass on your concern about PT."

Vandenberg huffs out a frustrated laugh at the suggestion of punching something. "Heh. No, thanks. Just had a real shit day. This was the icing. Glad you're here, though." She finally flops down into her desk chair and ashes the smoke while looking at her knees. "Fantastic. Another ruined pair of pants," she grumbles, wiping at some of the bloody flecks - which don't come out. "Yeah, I'll get it done, sir. You know the manifesto'ing little bastards are going to ignore the fact that the Marines came to the rescue and harp on the fact that it was a Marine involved. Or I should say 'ex-Marine'. I'm going to recommend to Corrath and JAG he be charged, at the minimum, with aggravated assault and if possible, attempted murder. You shoulda seen how he went after this guy, Captain." She sighs and finally looks up to him. "An elbow on a trachea like that? He wanted to kill him, sir. As a self-defense instructor, I'll testify to that if you all need." She ashes the smoke again and leans forward. "Look, sir? I needed to hit you about something. In relation to what Watters brought up." She glances to the man and back to the Marine XO. "Engineering is almost done with my rig. I need your permission to run a practice breach operation on Thursday. It'll be EVA and done on our hull. Sound do-able?"

Watters doesn't appear to have been. "Thank you, sir" Watters replies to Mathers. Sure he might not have gotten an introductions, but some things are always safe to assume in the Marines… including the fact that anyone who's got you at a disadvanrage name-wise probably comes to the priviledge through superior rank. That said, he falls silent once more… taking in the whole little explanation of events with a slightly concerned expression, but no more than that.

Mathers reaches out to slap Watters on the shoulder. "Good thing we have the Jig standing right here. His job is making sure you get some new pants." Okay, well that trivializes the S4 position a mite, but as Zane himself came up from that very rank and file, he gets to make those sort of quips. He steps away a pace, but doesn't walk away far as Vandenberg still seems to have some other pressing matters to address. A hand tucks in his pocket to remove a small silver cylinder, out of which comes a cinnamon scented toothpick. "Just tell us what you need from us, Lieutenant Vandenberg." Mathers is all about training exercises.

Vandenberg quirks her brow and glances to the S4. New pants? Yes, please. She smirks and looks back to Mathers. "I need the list I put on your desk. All those men and women. I'll need full gear and weapons checked out from the armory. This will be a full-stop exercise. The only thing that won't be accurate is the assembly of the RDPX explosives to the rig. Those will remain off until the morning of the operation. Myself and the Master at Arms will be the only people allowed access to them until the rig is assembled Friday night."

Watters gives a little chuckle at Mathers' comment, shaking his head slightly. "Well, I suppose the job can't all be passing out high explosive to impressionable young privates" Watters jokes in return, before looking bcak towards Vandenberg. "If you can get me a copy of that list, I'll make sure we've given everything they'll need from the armory a once-over for you before your exercise."

Mathers slides that spicy scented splinter between his teeth, working it over for a moment in a slow grind. "Colonel Pewter already gave his go ahead. I will speak for the Major and myself and say we support his decision one hundred percent. Whatever you need in that regard is yours. I want accurate documentation kept on /every/ volitile piece of equipment used. I mean that chain of custody better be locked up tighter than a duck's ass in water. The last thing we need is something happening to those explosives and that civilian collective getting wind of it." He gives a curt nod to Watters, which means he can consider that offer a direct order.

Vandenberg nods to Watters. "I'll have it on your desk by zero-eight-hundred. We're pulling out the heavy weapons for this operation. That means in addition to our GMARs, Zasta M80's, M813's, and we'll need four G48 Karlstovs with three HE rounds each. Plus sixteen EML mines." She takes a quick pull on her smoke, then. "I'm supposed to meet with Specialist Bannik tomorrow afternoon to get the explosives. Five-hundred forty pounds of it. I'll be doing the shaping and wiring in one of our expended missile tubes so if I frak up, it vents. We'll be pulling Dog's Second Squad for security during transport up the freight elevators. It won't leave my sight, sir. But that's all I've got for you, Cap."

Watters gives a little bit of a nod at Vandenberg. "Got it. Let me know if you need any help with the explosives as well, I was an assault engineer for ten years before someone decided I'd do better as an officer than playing with detonators" At least, that's the quick and ugly version of it.

"Five hundred and forty pounds, you damn well better not frak up." Mathers puts it bluntly. The toothpick switches corners of his mouth with a flick of his tongue. "Let's cross our t's and dot our i's on this one, folks. We're going to be dealing with enough unknown factors, let's not add any more complications through negligence."

"Huh. Good to know we've got another firebug on board. I might hit you for it but I've got most of this planned out for now. Most of it is just going to be routine shaping and explosive geometry. I've already got Engineering building the rig and the liner - which is being built of copper." Van flashes a smile around her smoke, the bloody flecks on her face moving with the expression. "Spent eleven years dealing with IEDs and landmines when I was a tunnel rat." She then nods to Mathers. "More so than you know, Cap. Every hundred pounds of RDPX has an EV - equal value - of seven hundred and fifty pounds of TNT. If all of it went in one go, it'd blow a chunk out of the ship." The S-Three is insane. She probably thinks that facts like these are cool.

"Fair enough" Watters replies. "You need me for the job, I'll be easy enough to get a hold of" he adds, looking between the two of them. "Anything else about the op you needed me to see to, or shall I begin plowing my way through the list I've already got?" he asks. After all, his requirements in all of this seem to be in hand for the moment.

"Your show, Vandenberg." Mathers drawls, hazel eyes on Natalie, letting her decide if they are through with what they need to discuss presently.

Vandenberg nods to the two men and stubs out her smoke. "Yeah, that should be it. If you two gentlemen don't mind, I'm going ot go change. If its al the same to you, Cap, I'm gonna work the rest of the night in sweatpants and a grungy ass t-shirt so I don't have to feel like Im bloody." She rises from the desk and lifts a chin to Watters. "I'll get with you about explosives later. I imagine we've got a lot to talk about. Let me know when we've got those weapons checked. I'll leave ya to it, Mister Watters." She starts to head for the door assuming Mathers doesn't stop her.

"Will do" Watters replies to Vandenberg. "And I'll be happy to talk shop sometime" he adds with a little smile, before turning to slink along towards the door himself. After all, now he knows what he has to do at least… just a matter of getting things done.

"As you were, then." The Captain says to his two departing division heads. Before Mathers himself leaves, he first turns back to the bank of security monitors. "Cycle through Deck Seven. Let's see what's happening up there." To the private manning the controls.

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