Pre-Scorpia Kharon DH Meeting
Pre-Scorpia Kharon DH Meeting
Summary: Kharon DHs and their flunkies meet about Scorpia.
Date: PHD070
Related Logs: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank)
Players:
Sheridan..McTiernan..Kai..Levesque..Roubani..Fenix..

Kharon - Ward Room

Sheridan is already in the Ward Room, still on his feet instead of seated at the head of the table where he normally is. Photos of their Scorpia recon are projected on the wall, and water has been poured into a glass and set infront of each seat for the expected number of people who are to attend this particular meeting. For once, the Commander seems agitated, and is pacing in front of a pale aide who looks like he just received a nice butt chewing prior to everyone showing up.

Levesque is on sentry duty with another marine, standing a few metres from the entranceway. The two of them do not talk, though they are not on drill parade and do look around. Rifles are held at the port accross their chests.

Someone smells like engine in here. But it isn't Sen. No, it's Roubani, dressed in blues that are wrinkle-free despite having been thrown on in a whirlwind hurry. There's still a telltale streak of something dusty near his right ear. Not wearing his sling, his right arm hangs with a slightly unnatural bend where his brace keeps the elbow from moving too much. In his left arm, the folders Sen told him to get, and a pad for taking notes. His rigid posture goes past 'formal' and into the ballpark of 'nervous as shit', though he admirably manages to stay calm and not fidget. "Commander, sir." Salute, left handed. With a handful of papers. "Captain Eos sends her formal apologies; she is still overseeing the repair of the air duct she mentioned. I have her notes and will report back to her immediately afterwards."

The CAG arrives somewhere in the middle of the pack of 'expected people', in a frilly pink tutu. Well, okay. He's actually in a tidy, pressed and buttoned set of blues. His pins and flight qualification wings are extra shiny today, as are his boots. The marines in the entryway are nodded to absently as he steps inside with a file folder under one arm. No coffee cup, though there's a suspiciously cigarette pack-shaped indentation in one pocket. A salute is offered the ship's CO, in crisp fashion. "Commander, sir." He doesn't sit until invited to do so.

McTiernan is a few steps behind the CAG in entering the ward room. She carrying a ledge in one hand and she's always extra shiny but then, she's a Marine. Snapping to sharply, she offers a nod, "Commander, sirs."

Sheridan salutes as people filter in and direct one towards him, it's a wonder Command doesn't get tennis elbow from all these shows of formality, but he returns them crisply. "In. Sit." He says sharply, maybe someone starched his knickers too much this morning. "Eos better damn well be stuck in the thing." Which is as much welcome as the replacement Ensign is going to get. The other departments are also missing representatives, deck medical and support will all have to be filled in later, the show must go on. The commander sinks into his chair, with an almost audible sigh.

Levesque isn't planning to say anything anytime soon. His friend looks about the same. They'll probably just stand there until someone needs a buttstroke in the head.

"Yes, sir," Roubani replies, short and sweet. Which could mean she is stuck in the damn thing. Or she's not but he's just getting her back. Or none of the above, and it's just the standard thing to say when you're Japan facing Godzilla. He clears his throat softly and moves to a chair, but doesn't sit until the upper ranks have.

Kai seems not to mind the Commander's abrasiveness. Abrasive, he can deal with. "Sir," he murmurs again, dropping his file folder atop the table before tucking himself into the corresponding chair. His eyes rest curiously on Sheridan, but he's silent until and unless addressed.

McTiernan relaxes her position long enough to slip over into a chair at the table, the ledger finding its way to the table top and opened up to a clean page marked with a chewed upon pencil. Blue eyes swing in the direction of the commander and there they wait.

The right hand mand, Cortez, is missing too. Likely because they're on the eve of a big mission, and resources are wisely being spread out to prepare. "Scorpia." He indicates the picture above his head, projected on the wall behind him. "We go in tomorrow, and I don't want any of you to be taken by surprise. We're dropping right into a potential hot zone. That means hostiles boys and girls. That means instead of waiting for the threat to catch up to us, we're facing it head on. Our recon shows that there are potential supplies down there, which not only includes tylium, things like replacement parts for the vipers."

Roubani slides a pen out of his folder. It's not the type that clicks, saving him from potential embarassment. Brows lightly furrowed in concentration as Sheridan talks, he gets to writing and doesn't touch the glass of water set out. Poison tasting is way above his paygrade.

Kai, on the other hand, has a pen that clicks. It's a soft sound, but audible in the brief quiet that follows the Commander's words. It's clicked open, but nothing written down yet. Evidently, this is information he already has. Blue eyes stay on Sheridan, however, as he reaches for a sip of his water. Hopefully he doesn't keel over shortly thereafter.

Scratch scratch goes the pencil over the ledger before McTiernan. She's silent, listening, making notes. Her gaze remains on the Commander, waiting for more information to come forth.

Sheridan leans back in his chair, elbows propped on the arm rests and his fingers steepled together in front of his chest. "I want to send two Raptors with a small team of marines and a showing of our deck or engineering folks so we can tag and grab what we need, if possible. Small group of escort vipers, and a scramble of alert vipers to guard the Kharon because we're jumping in close. Damn close. Captain Marek, you have the coordinates of where we'll be dropping. I'll save the rest the boring details. Questions."

Roubani scribbles on his notepad, keeping up with Sheridan in shorthand. He doesn't ask questions of high command, though at the end he writes something in the margin with a question mark, probably to bring up to Sen later.

Kai shifts his eyes to the recon pictures pasted across the back wall, then back to the Commander. His pen is lifted to indicate he has a question.

McTiernan perches her lips as she keeps making her notes. She doesn't have questions.. yet but she's buy with the making of lists on the edge of that ledge page.

Sheridan swivels his chair rather then his head to look in Kai's direction. "Yes, Captain Marek." Giving the CAG the floor.

Roubani writes something else in the margin. His dark eyes come up to look at Kai, head not really moving.

Kai gestures with his pen, to one of the grainy photographs sprawled across the bulkhead. "Sir, what sort of anti-aircraft can we expect, enroute to the LZ? I'd like to arm our vipers with the missile packs that the sevens were refitted for a few months ago, in case we have to do any strafing runs before the raptors set down. But I'm not sure what the extent of our intel is on the situation down there, sir, besides some pretty pictures."

The Commander offers a pinched smile, devoid of any actual humor. "We've sent missions twice to get more accurate information. You've already been passed what we know. There is a Cylon force down there, on the ground. This third mission will give us a bigger idea of what we are dealing with. So load them if you have them, Captain. Because you're going on a fishing expedition."

Roubani writes down what he's hearing. Which is basically: 'Supposedly everyone knows what's down there. Ask them.'

McTiernan jots down a note to make sure to send her team with extra ammo and supplies. Then she turns her attention back to the Commander.

Sheridan swivels his chair again, to look at the others assembled. "So far we've encountered Raiders and a Heavy Raider. They've had long enough to establish Centurian forces on the planet, which means they may have developed several surface to air missle sites, though our initial recon was unable to spot specific locations. The lands to the south are heavily irradiated, so we'll be focusing on an area of lower density readings near a small city named Osprey. All personnel who are going down should be on anti-rad meds."

Roubani's eyes glance at Sheridan during some point in that. When he writes again it's a little faster, and includes a bunch more crap in the margins. Couple lines drawn between concepts. Things circled.

McTiernan wrinkles her nose at that but jots it down in the ledger which, it seems, is the Marines paper lifeline. No circling here but heavy underlinning is involved.

"Hopefully, we'll be catching them unawares, but we're not operating under a best case scenario. If they've realized what we're doing and what we're after, they damn well might have a welcoming party sitting in the wait." Sheridan finally reaches for his glass of water, rewetting his throat. "They're getting smarter, more advanced. Which brings me to another piece of business. Ensign, I am to understand you have something rather interesting to report about our foes."

Roubani's neck goes a bit paralyzed when he's called into the spotlight. He clears his throat softly, flipping open the folder he'd brought up from engineering. "Yes, sir." Pen set down for a minute. "We have been able to analyze a raider from debris parts collected. Its systems are extremely advanced, perhaps needless to say, and while we have identified heuristics in their AI that may be of future use for predicting their flight and attack patterns, we're still working on them. We've pinpointed an avoincs system and weapons system, along with its central hub of processors." Groundwork laid, he goes on as he turns the pen between his fingers. "We also identified what's been confirmed as a life support system, and very strong indicators that we are not dealing with a fully mechanical object as we believed. The raiders definitely have organic parts, which respond to electrical stimuli from what I can only call a 'brain'." He stops, having more but pausing for whatever questions might come out of that.

And that brings the Marine's head up with a snap, intent icy blues eyes zeroing in on Rou with deadly accuracy. She doesn't speak, not yet, but there is something in her gaze, something that might be found a little intimidating.

Kai is silent after his question's been asked. The answer he received doesn't seem to agree with him overly, but when does anything agree with the man? Eyes lowered, he jots something down on his notepad.

The chair squeaks as Sheridan tips it backwards slightly, his fingers still steepled while he's deep in thought. Of course he's likely gotten a written report on all of this, but it's still heavy information to consider. "What I need to know about these new partially organic fighters, is if they are susceptible to radiation. If so, that might limit their front too. Questions."

Roubani nods slightly. His pen skips across the paper, making several notes. McTiernan staring at him has his shoulders quite tense, but he stays calm as he possibly can. "Yes, sir. We'll begin testing for radiation effects right away." He looks back at Sheridan. "The Raiders also contained a substance that appears to be part of the organic cycle. Major Pike has a sample and as I understand, she's been testing it in medical. She may have more information on structure or potential weaknesses."

Thus far Mactiernan has little to say on the matter give that her troops fight on the ground, an unlikely place to find a raptor of this nature but she listens none the less as it's impossible to tell where else the damn toasters might use this technology. Most scratching in her ledger is done as she relents and shifts her gaze back to the Old Man.

It seems Fenix got the memo late. Or rather, she didn't know she was said 'representative' until someone informed her Harmon was once more MIA. And so the Chief looks a bit… flustered as she steps into the room, still dressed in the orange of the Deck, and sweeps a look around the room that teeters dangerously between apologetic and annoyed. "Sirs," a quick salute. "I'm sorry for the tardiness." No excuses. For now. Dropping her hands behind her back, and waiting — still standing — for the formal permission to join.

Sheridan doesn't stand to return Fenix's salute, the motion quick and severe. "Have a seat, Petty Officer. As it stands, you've missed about everything so you'll have to resort to cheating off someone else's paper for the test." His index finger scratches idly at the side of his nose. "Any other points of business?"

Roubani makes another fast note on his paper. The words 'Test centurion' get circled underneath his chickenscratch about nuking raider brains. He looks like a kid in high school who's just taken his seat again after giving a particularly nerve-wracking presentation, still hearing his nervous heartbeat pounding in his ears. Notes. Notes are good. He keeps his eyes down and mouth shut through Fenix's entrance.

Sheridan's words earn a quick nod from Fenix, but she doesn't seem terribly bothered by the prospect of cheating. Lowering herself into one of the free seats, and even slumping slightly as she waits for things to continue. Or end, as it were.

McTiernan shakes her head, "Nothing from me, sir. Once we're mission solid and all back on board I'll put together the MOUTs. I'd strongly suggest the mission go with medical on board with full supplies specifically because we don't know what we'll face down there." Other then that, she has nothing else to offer at the moment.

Sheridan glances around the table, meeting each person's eyes for a moment. When McTiernan speaks, his gaze levels on her. "Assign two of your best medics, one to each raptor. If this mission is successful, we'll be sending larger groupings down to facilitate in off loading any supplies we need from the planet, but right now, we're packing a little light." His gaze goes back to Fenix. "Petty Officer, make sure my squad of vipers is ready to go by mission hour, and two Raptors are fully equipped. Captain Marek wants the planet bound Vipers outfitted with the missile packs we had fitted to the sevens."

Take notes, indeed. Sheridan's orders have the Chief's eyes widening slightly, a 'brow raised, but she's nodding without argument or question. "Yes, sir." She'll have to catch up later.

Roubani is still writing. More stuff to tell Sen. His brows are tense, as are the corners of his mouth as he thinks, jots, and listens at the same time.

Kai waits for the telltale shuffling of papers and scuff of boots and chairs, as people start to stand, before glancing back at Sheridan. "One more question, Commander. Sir. If you have a moment?" He's already collecting his own papers, though keeps his pen clicked 'on'.

Sheridan flips closed a folder he had in front of him that he never once glanced at. "Well, if that's it then. You all are dismissed." His eyes flick to Marek. "Yes, of course, Captain."

Roubani has what Sen needed, so he merely stands in silence. Salutes are offered, sharp and correct, and he turns to head out of the room with a frown deepening on his face once his back has turned to the superiors in the room.

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