Passing the Torch
Passing the Torch
Summary: Cygnus meets with Sheridan, and the future of the Chapel is discussed.
Date: Date
Related Logs: Related Logs The Long Walk

The Big Man himself is sitting at the head of the table, with a stack of folders at his left hand and a glass of water at his right. Behind him, stands his aide silently, waiting to be at the Commander's beck and call. He doesn't rise to his feet as the presence of Cygnus is announced by a guard, likely having squeezed this meeting into the million other commandery things he has to do today.

It doesn't take Cygnus long at all to appear in the wardroom, and he steps inside and waits to be announced. Once that's done, a few steps carry him over to stand across the table from the Commander, where he offers a crisp salute then stands at attention. "Sir." If anything, the priest looks a bit tired and worn around the edges, manifesting itself in slightly drawn features and the faintest trace of dark circles underneath his eyes.

Sheridan returns the salute briskly, before opening a hexagonal folder and pulling out the request that Cygnus sent up the line. Why the Colonies are so afraid of ninety degree angles is anyone's guess. "At ease, have a seat." He motions to a chair at his right with a flick of his fingers. "Terrible business with the Chaplain…" He mumbles beneath his breath while he reads the paper in front of him. "You want to discuss the funeral?"

A nod is Cygnus' first answer as he eases himself into the appointed seat, albeit gingerly, as if he were favoring some sort of injury. "Yes, Sir," He begins, his voice calm and steady, "As you can likely imagine, my entire department is in a bit of chaos right now. I've been seeing to both of the daily services as well as overseeing the preparations for the funeral rites. Both are issues I wish to speak to you about. Additionally, I know that the Padre had been meaning to speak to you about my concerns about the refugees as well. Though, I'd imagine that can wait until the more pressing matters have been resolved."

Sheridan leans back in his chair, elbows propped on the padded arms of it. His fingers steeple together at their tips, and his face takes on a thoughtful look. "Give him his proper rites, hold a military funeral for him. What's the problem?" The refugee problem he's not touch with a ten foot pole at the moment.

That seems to answer at least part of the question, "Understood, Sir. I wasn't certain if there were any preferences that the service be a public or private affair." Though, really, that's the tip of the iceburg. "I had been, in the past, acting as Lieutenant Crydel's assistant, both administratively as well as spiritually. Not long before his…" Here Cygnus' words strain just the slightest bit, "untimely death, the Padre ordained me as a Brother. I'm wondering if any decisions have been made regarding the future of my department?"

Sheridan clicks open his pen, leaning forward to jot something into his file. "As we had only one Chaplain and one Chaplain's aide, I guess that means you'll be filling the slot, doesn't it. Congratulations, Chaplain." He says in that crisp no nonsense voice of his.

One thing's become clear to Cygnus of late, and that's that everything that's happened in the last year or so of his life seems to have been leading up this particular moment. It's a sobering thought, because now it will not be the physical well being of those on the ship that he will be responsible for, as he would have been as a pilot. It's a far more daunting prospect to be charged with the safety and keeping of their immortal souls. "Thank you, Sir. As the Gods will, I will do everything possible in my power to discharge this office to the best of my ability."

Sheridan continues writing, without looking up to the Jig. "You understand, this doesn't come with a promotion, nor will this make you the department head for my support department. You'll have to earn those. It's not something you're automatically entitled to, just because the man ahead of you chose the easy way out."

Cygnus shakes his head, with everything that's happened, he hadn't even had the chance to think along those lines. "My concern is for the Chapel, Sir, and her flock, whether or not that comes with command is fairly irrelevant in the dispatching of that office." Would it be nice to get his previously earned rank back? Of course, but he's not going to push for it.

Sheridan clicks his pen shut, and raises his glance to meet Cygnus' again. "Then in that case, congratulations. I know you'll serve your post well." His demeanor slightly changed, possibly pleased that the new padre took the role humbly.

At last, Cygnus allows himself to relax a bit, nodding at Sheridan's words. "I will do my utmost to honor the Gods' will." Marius may not be the type to really wear the more religious side of his nature on his sleeve much of the time, but it is there, firm and unshakable. "Thank you, Sir. If there's any way I can be of assistance, please let me know."

Sheridan gives a brief dip of his head in a nod. "I will. So if there is nothing else? You are dismissed, Padre."

"Not at this time, Sir." Marius knows when to push, and when to ease off the throttle. This doesn't seem the proper time to press the refugee issue, that will have to wait for another day. With great care, Cygnus draws himself back up to his feet, offering a salute, "The Gods keep you, Sir, and good hunting."

Sheridan returns the salute, before looking back to his aide, already expecting the next issue to be dropped in his lap.

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