| Unto The Breach |
| Summary: | Planning session for the combatant commanders about the coming trip back to Virgon's graveyard. |
| Date: | 02 March 2041 |
| Related Logs: | Admiral's bbpost n stuff. |
| Players: |
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Map Room
The one object that dominates this room is the one it is named for: the giant plotting table in the center of the room. Bottom-lit like the plot in CIC, this one is twenty feet across and about the same distance wide. The maps, which are rolled and kept in a locker at the side of the room, provide much more detail than most of the charts in CIC and are especially useful in planning tactical operations. Unscaled models of ships are available to be situated on the surface of the table and risers on each side of the room allow for a small audience to watch or be briefed. A single large LCD screen is built into the wall at the far end to display reconnaissance or other supplemental material.
Tillman actually looks pretty rested, standing at the side of the table. He's in his blues and shaven, too - the first time anyone's seen that combination on him since last Thursday. There's a renewed energy about him that seems more prone towards vengeance. The whole room is set-up, though. The map table has a large chart of Virgon's space unrolled on it with a couple battlestars set-up over the area of the debris field. A raptor, Viper, and models representing the battlegroup are set to the side. Up on the big LCD screen is a digital representation of the chart, but otherwise blank.
Cidra looks as if she's grabbed some rack time, though describing her as rested would not be entirely accurate. She strides in, manner all business. "Captain," she offers to Tillman with a slight inclination of her head, taking up a place at the map table where she's got a good vantage of said map. She's here for the planning.
Cylons. Cylons. The words echo in the hallway, two officers exchanging hurried words about the CO's earlier announcement behind Stavrian as the JG steps into the map room. Clean uniform, camo jacket formally buttoned to the top. His fingers have a few black ink stains on them, hidden when he tilts his hand to raise salute. "Captains."
Kulko stands off to Tillman's right side, well out of the way, hands clasped at the small of his back and looking rather composed himself. More composed than the weekend, at least - a decidedly low bar to clear. The CAG gets a crisp salute as she enters.
Archer strolls in to the maproom, carrying a mug of coffee and looking rather disoriented outside of Marine country. The man gives a sharp nod to Tillman, and then looks at the map display as he makes his way to the table itself. He reaches a hand up, scratches at the side of his head, and then takes a sip from his mug.
Dressed now in his duty blues, Oberlin managed to button and fasten the whole thing, and shave. He looks pretty sharp, all things considered, which is a first. Those tired circles still dog his eyes, though, and have since the attack on Picon. Before the hatch closes, a sudden, sour look takes over s features as he catches someone mentioning the 'C-word' out in the hall but he says nothing. He slowly strolls into the Map Room with a file clutched to his side, and comes to a dead stop about 7 or so feet in, past the hatch. "Sirs." He says, smoothly, before continuing on down towards the map table itself.
Tillman nods to everyone as they enter, the salute to Stavrian returned briskly. "Alright, everyone. This is going to be a generalized planning session for going back to Virgon, as per the orders from Admiral Abbot. We don't have anything in stone yet as I wanted to get you all here to get input before we develop anything solid. Any questions before we start?"
Kulko raises a hand, hesitantly. "Are we simultaneously conducting recon to the other colonies, sir?"
Stavrian scratches a hand through his hair, getting up closer to the map table. His arms fold securely over his chest, head shaking as to any preliminary questions. Blue eyes flicker to Kulko and then back to the TACCO.
Cidra acknowledges the salutes she receives, then lays her palms on the map table as if to balance herself. Long fingers spread a bit. "Lieutenants. Ensign. Captain," the Major offers to the gents as they enter. Her shoulders tense at the word. Cylons. Deep breath. Exhaled slow. Her expression is grave but she does not repeat it. "That is partially what we are here to determine, Ensign," Cidra replies to Kulko. "I am wary of spreading ten Raptors so far from the ship at once, but I would like to get the a view from the other colonies as soon as possible. What are Tactical's needs so far as that is concerned, Captain?" she looks to Tillman.
Archer looks over at Kulko as he asks his question, and then rocks back on his heels for a moment as he considers. Finally he asks, "If we find anyone out there, how are we handling screening and processing? I wouldn't put it past the Cylons to try chemical, disease, or biological warfare if they've already nuked us."
"Considering we haven't exactly gotten any demands from our new 'friends,' so far all we know of their aims is complete and utter obliteration of all Colonial holdings." Oberlin says, grimly, after settling down at the map table and opening up his folder. "We got readings from Virgon. From what we can gather, the attackers followed a similar plan to what they did to Picon. Now, Picon was a military hub, but Virgon?" He just lets the matter hang in the air, some awkward silence in the wake of his words. He too, looks towards Tillman in deference.
"I'm inclined to agree with the Major, Ensign. Spreading out our Raptors like that does two things: It spreads out forces thin and it doubles our chances for discovery with every Raptor that heads out." Tillman keeps his voice low, the expression still serious. "As far as our needs, we'll establish that after the presentation." His gaze then settles on Archer. "Good point. Marines will coordinate with Medical for triage and processing, however Marines are in charge of security across the board. I would suggest you speak with Lieutenant Stavrian after we conclude," The TACCO nods to the medic. "He will be coordinating our first reponders to any survivors we find." A quick nod to Oberlin, then. "It isn't unwise to venture that Virgon and Picon suffered the same fate as the other colonies. However, we will need to recon at a different date to confirm this. I think we all want to know what happened to our homes and families, though, so its a priority." He taps the controller against the table a few times and looks ready to give out the presentation.
Stavrian is silent for now. Not, perhaps because he has nothing to say, but the questions are rolling fast and he's paying attention to all of it. His sharp eyes glance at Archer, giving the Marine captain a cordial nod. "We can hammer that once we hear what the plan is, sir. Along with some other medical concerns." Speaking of which, seems to be time for that.
Archer just nods at the answer he gets from Tillman and Savrian. The man takes another long sip of his drink, and then settles in to watch the actual presentation.
Kulko settles back into parade rest, nodding curtly and keeping quiet. He's like that kid in the classroom who doesn't know when to shut up.
"I don't know." Oberlin says pensively towards Archer. "About that. Considering the condition of that one survivor we saw. —" He just lets the issue drop now, lamely as he glances back towards Tillman and just offers, "Agreed, sir." His eyes are up on the screen, his jaw drawn tightly closed.
The TACCO picks up a hand-held controller and clicks it towards the LCD screen. The image shifts down and to the side, displaying the immense number of wreckages spread out across space, and rendering their positions in three dimensions. "Here is the DRADIS picture that our recon was able to bring back. The field of wreckage, from what we can surmise, was the main engagement area. It's roughly eight hundred miles wide, two hundred miles high, and one hundred miles deep. It is in a rough orbit of Virgon but the wreckage closer to the planet is on a slow deorbit trajectory. However the vast majority of it will remain in orbit for quite a few months. Potentially years." He clicks the button and a few of the blips turn red. "Most of this tactical was able to piece together. These red blips are wreckage we can't attribute to any known class of ship in the Colonial Fleet. The rest of it?" He takes a breath and looks around to everyone. "Our best estimates place the number of destroyed fleet vessels at four hundred sixty nine, including sixty-eight battlestars of varying classes." Another pause and he clears his throat, voice dropping. "I estimate that total fleet losses in this one engagement include somewhere between eight and nine hundred thousand personnel."
Cidra's expression stays fixed as stone when Tillman speaks of the possibility the other colonies have suffered the same fate, and shows the not-so-pretty pictures of Virgon. It has likely been on her mind, and she's had time to school her feature to react to it. She can collapse in a fetal position later. "It would take too long to hit each colony at once, and lengthen the process to the point where detection became an even bigger danger. Ten colonies remain. We can send out smaller flights of Raptors, perhaps three at a time, in shifts over two days. That would allow us to hit each point, keep defense of the ship relatively intact, and mitigate chances of detection more than sending them off to all points at once. Now that the ship's FTL is online again, that gives us more room to maneuver."
"Ought to haul some of that foreign wreckage in for deck. They'd sh-…be pretty excited." Stavrian manages to cut off the colloquialism in time, shifting his folded arms. Like Cidra he doesn't address the possibilities of the other colonies, not right now. The sheer number of dead that Tillman gives them makes his jaw tense, muscles bunching up at the back. "Are we attempting a landing on Virgon this go, Captain? Or just attempting a search of the wreckage for further survivors?"
"We haven't heard any communications attempts from any other fleet elements. Any of the Colonies. That's not to say that's a definite. But we'd be remiss to be leaving any of our homes behind." Oberlin considers aloud, shaking his head a little. For him, he's already seen the worst. Two out of the three planets he ever called home are confirmed, gone. And yet, he hasn't really seen /anything/ yet. "That's over a third of the Fleet at Virgon — gone. Just like that. Gone. I would also like to add, with your permission, that Chief Petty Officer Atreus and I are going to be examining systems pulled from some 'malfunctioning' planes for analysis. Perhaps we can perform more salvage as well." He falls silent again. "After we see if there's anyone left alive. Gods."
Archer chews on his lower lip for a moment at the mention of casualties. The man continues to listen, though, his eyes are boring into the projected debris field. As Oberlin talks, he shifts his eye towards the man for a moment, and then goes back to watching the presentation.
"Almost half the fleet, Mister Oberlin. Combined with what we saw at Picon, I'd say we are looking at witnessing the annihilation of three quarters of Colonial Fleet. At least." He then looks to the Medic. "No idea, Lieutenant. I'm not planning on it but that's Command Staff's call - on both points. Our orders are to jump in with the other two frigates, which have essentially become rolled into the Cerberus Battlegroup." Forming BSG-132. "Because we don't know what we will face while there, we should endeavor to keep things quiet. CIC will be enforcing Emissions Control and shutting down all active systems. Our comms systems will have to be scaled back as well. However, we will be jumping back at Condition One. Any and all pilots should expect combat landings as we may have to evacuate the area A-SAP." Tillman clicks the controller again and the Cerberus Battlegroup appears near the side of the debris could, just outside and near the center. "I recommend we jump in here and slowly proceed inside of the cloud and drift, steering with maneuvering thrusters. It will provide us a decent camouflage should anyone decide to jump in on us. From there, we can conduct potential rescue operations. However, we can't stick around for long so we are going to have to play favorites with the ships that look the most intact." A pause. "So. Our motivations are to rescue, but keeping our visibility to a minimum. With that in mind, Lieutenant Stavrian, what can we expect with any potential survivors?"
Cidra nods shortly to Oberlin. "Of course, Lieutenant, take all from the planes you need. Their behavior during the attack is a constant concern of mine. I have recommended some of my own personnel with decent technical aptitudes to the Chief. Speak with him about it. They may have some valuable insights, to consult on the flight aspects if nothing else." She turns to Stavrian, as to the survivors.
"It's highly unlikely we'll see a repeat of last time, sir," Stavrian replies, after pursing his lips. Nobody likes discussing the hard facts about this part of it. "Anyone outside the protection of a radiation shield is looking at too many rads to still be alive. Any who've found that protection will most likely have sustained physical trauma and, I would assume in most cases, severe dehydration and starvation. 0.05 to 6 SV of radiation exposure, depending. I'd expect burn cases. Mental trauma. Anyone brought in will, as with last time, need to be deconned upon arrival, so we'll need to be prepared for that." He glances at the maps, then back to Tillman. "All ships are going then, sir? So the civilians aboard will be…along for the ride, for lack of a better term?"
"That's a death sentence." Oberlin chimes in, not saying anything else for the moment. Apparently not finding anything else important to add. His head cocks to one side when the question of civilians is asked.
Archer sips his coffee, then, looks down at it with a frown as apparently he's run out of coffee to drink. The man then coughs quietly and asks, "Do you want a marine attachment aboard the raptors we're sending out, or is this first run strictly pilots and ECWs?"
"I had figured the initials runs would be much like our scouting of Virgon, Captain," Cidra replies to Archer. "Jump in, see what there is to see, jump out. I do not want those planes anywhere near the surface if I can help it."
"No place else to put them. They're stuck with us or another member of the battlegroup for the duration." However long that might be. Tillman looks back to the maps, then. The TACCO lets Cidra field the question. "I'm inclined to agree. But have your people standing by on the hangar deck to board Raptors and be in EVA suits." He pauses, then looking to the big LCD screen's array of DRADIS contacts. "Lieutenant Stavrian suggested we use thermal imaging on the wrecks. I'm inclined to agree. The Cerberus can probably scan those in the immediate vicinity, but Major Hahn? Your boys and girls will have to do most of the leg work. How do you want to structure deployment of your Vipers and Raptors?" His eyes fall back to her.
Stavrian nods a few times as Tillman throws in the thermal scans. Quiet on the next matter, he looks over at Cidra with a brow raised slightly, listening to the CAG's answer.
"Works for me." Archer replies, and then looks over at Cidra as well at the next question directed at her. This one, not being from him, he just stuffs a hand into a pocket of his uniform and comes up with a pen and a scrap of paper that he jots a couple of notes down on.
Again, Oberlin holds his tongue as his eyes remain glued to the LCD, lids narrowing. They dart to and fro as they catalogue every DRADIS marker silently. He stands a bit straighter, hands resting on the edge of the plotter table.
"We are thin at the moment, so my preference would be to keep a pair of Vipers with each Raptor, once we get to searching the main area," Cidra replies. "That shall allow us to shore up on our defense while still keeping enough Vipers with the Cerberus is they are needed."
"Alright." Tillman nods his head. "None of this information is classified or secret. I know you all got some grim numbers thrown at you, too. If the Old Man wants to hang me for it, then he can. But feel free to talk about this stuff on my authority." He looks around to assembled. "We'll break for now. Given what we have from everyone, I'll draw up a plan. If you need to get going, consider the briefing over. But if anyone has questions or suggestions, I sure as hell wouldn't mind hearing any."
Archer asks from where he stands, "We have a tentative timetable on this operation?"
"Its not happening in the next thirty-six hours." Tillman looks to Archer. "We need time to ensure our aircraft are free of trouble. Lives may be lost while the clock ticks, but I won't send a member of this crew to their death if I can help it."
Kulko looks between the senior officers, pursing his lips and switching which hand grips which wrist behind his back. "Sir…" he ventures Tillman's way. "Not for nothin', I understand the appeal of trying to blend in with the husks. But we're only going to be there so long as we're alone. If we get any live hostiles on DRADIS, we're going make a run for it wouldn't it - wouldn't it be better to have the FTL spun up and ready to go, so we can boogie as soon as the birds are ashore?"
Cidra nods again. "I shall coordinate with my people. I am confident my pilots and I can have this underway as soon as command is ready to jump." No pun intended. "I thank you for your time, gentlemen."
Stavrian thins his lips at the timetable. "We'll have to pray they've found some source of water, or we won't be finding anything alive." He exhales a long breath through his nose. "Suggestion, sir, and my apologies if it's distasteful." That said, he goes on. "Bring several of the bodies of the dead in as we can. Continued autopsies may tell us more about the types of weaponry being used."
"I think having a pre-planned jump trajectory would be essential. Maybe back to the Uram Sector. Home, sweet home." Oberlin says towards Kuklo, sounding half in reassurance, half in agreement. "Pending my findings with CPO Atreus, I'd also ask permission to salvage a couple of the wrecked ships for a post-mortem. We fared better than some forty Battlestars, and what looks to be their planes. Why? We need to answer that question, to be prepared." He repeats that same question. "Why?"
Stavrian tilts his head slightly towards Oberlin. It's what he'd mentioned before, though it got drowned in other things.
Archer nods a couple of times, adds another note to his scrap of paper. He then shoves both pen and paper into his pocket, and starts to back away from the map table.
"Good suggestion, Ensign." Tillman nods to Kulko. "I want you to work with Oberlin and develop an exit strategy. If someone shows up while we are waiting to recall our birds, I want a plan ready to implement. Including ship deployments based on our retreat until we can jump." He looks to Oberlin, then, holding the man's gaze for a moment before looking back to Stavrian. "Then I suggest we all pray. As for the bodies, I don't want anyone aboard ships or wreckage unless it is confirmed that there is someone on board to save. Period. No exceptions. If you want to grab some of our fallen, they will have to be found off the wreckages." The TACCO looks back to Oberlin. "Not a bad idea, but its going to have to wait. All our forces are arrayed to rescue. To grab slavage will take time we don't want to risk until we know more about the risks in that area."
"Of course, sir," Kulko affirms quickly at Oberlin's response. "But unless I misunderstood the plan, a cold startup will mean it takes longer to jump if anything goes south. Seein' as how the birds will be giving off plenty of heat, I feel like the extra time outweighs the benefit from keeping the mains offline." He clears his throat, glancing to Tillman. "Course, I could be wrong."
Stavrian unfolds his arms, rolling his shoulders. "We'll get a workup of personnel and supplies we'll need to store to you both within the next forty-eight," he tells Cidra and Tillman both.
"Understood, sir." Oberlin says simply, before shooting Stavrian a sidelong glance. Maybe he wasn't asleep when Jesse was discussing this.
Cidra nods short to Stavrian. "Excellent, Lieutenant. Thank you." She has no more to say to the planning at the moment, it seems.
Tillman shakes his head to Kulko. "We aren't shutting off the engines or anything. We'll be operating at one hundred percent. We just won't be transmitting anything." He then looks to Stavrian. "Thank you Lieutenant." With a quick glance around, he gives one last stern nod. "Let's call it done. We'll get a plan to all department heads in the next thirty-six hours. Everyone is dismissed."
Stavrian glances back at Oberlin, but nothing said. Official Shit done, he lifts his right hand to tick off a sharp salute and then turns, headed for the hatch.
"Thank you Captain," Archer says to Tillman at the dissmissal, and then turns and starts to stroll back out of the Map Room in the manner in which he came.
Kulko offers up a slightly sheepish salute, then pivots and makes for the hatchway. He keeps his feet firmly on the deck, to avoid putting them in his mouth any more.
"If they come back, it's not like you can hide a Battlestar, after all." Oberlin says languidly towards Kulko. "Unless. We have an irradiated junk field. No solar winds of course, but stop me if you've heard this one before." He shrugs slightly, dismissing the line of thought.
Cidra nods short and heads out without further ado. There are preparations to make.