Summary: Andrew, Cahen and Joanna discuss their future and whether survival alone is enough.
Date: PHD150 (Sep 15 2009)
Related Logs: None

File created: 2009-09-16 00:27

[ Parlor - Grifter Farmhouse ]-------[ Scorpia ]—

IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #150 OOC Time: Tue Sep 15 20:35:53 2009

With a polished wooden floor, well-appointed furniture, and grand fireplace nearly big enough for a grown man to stand in, this is clearly the room designated for entertaining. Large windows provide ample light during the day, while decorative scones are meant to give light in the darkness. Homey handmade rugs cushion footfalls on the main paths through the room and wide ceiling fans keep the air circulating in the warmer months. With two couches, three armchairs, various ottomans and four small tables, there's more than enough space to host a large gathering. The walls are mostly bare, with only two paintings - one of the house itself and one of an old fashioned hunting party - to decorate it. French doors lead to the veranda, while a doorway leads to the entrance hall.

Scattered belongings indicate that this room has been appropriated as extra sleeping quarters for the resistance, though it still serves for social functions during the day.


Cahen Joanna


[V] Veranda [E] Entrance Hall

Andrew arrives from the Entrance Hall - Grifter Farmhouse.

Joanna is sitting on the couch in the parlor, with a map unfolded in her lap and her reading glasses on. She's got a notebook on the arm of the couch, and has just jotted down something in it.

Zeus has submitted a new event: Test

Andrew wanders into the parlor, looking freshly showered. He's dressed in a pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt, something he's taken to wearing to sleep since there are so many more people sharing the parlor as a bedroom. He walks over to his small pile of stuff by one of the couches and dumps his shoes and the clothes he was wearing there. "Hey, Jo," he greets his aunt. "How are you feeling?"

Cahen makes his way into the parlor not long behind Andrew. While he's not fresh from the shower he's obviously spent some time making use of the function plumbing. His clothes are clean and he's shaved. He slips in unobtrusively, as if reluctant to interrupt anything, though he offers a cordial nod to the general vicinity.

Joanna looks up at the new arrivals. "Hi. I'm doing much better, actually. Thanks to the doc here." Jo gives him a grateful smile by way of greeting. "What are you guys up to?"

"I was just going to go to sleep soon," Andrew admits, nodding a hello to the doctor. He's got an early watch tomorrow. "Are you planning another scouting mission?" he asks of her, nodding to the map in her hands.

"Your aunt's a strong woman," Cahen says simply, inclining his head at Joanna's words and shrugging. At her question he pauses a moment, taking a long look around the room. "I was trying to get to know the grounds a bit better, for my part. You wouldn't happen to know if there's a particularly dependable clock in this house?" A seemingly random question, though it seems important to him. He tilts his head when Andrew asks about scouting.

Joanna shakes her head. "I was just correlating what we've learned with the info we got from Angel's group." A slight smile to Cahen's compliment, but then she hmms. "Particularly dependable? Afraid I don't know. I just go by my watch usually." Since the battery still hasn't died.

"No," Andrew answers Cahen. "Ask Mr. Ezo, or Mrs. Ezo," he recommends as he flops on 'his' couch. "Did she tell us anything good?" As opposed to - Cylons, dead here, dead, Cylons, burnt out wreck here and so on.

"That will do. May I see it, please?" Cahen asks Joanna. "Your watch, I mean. I've been needing to reset mine." He draws his old metal pocketwatch out of his jacket, holding the chain between his fingertips. It must open somehow to reveal the actual watch face, as only the plain silver casing is evident. He apparently hasn't been asking too many probing questions of the new arrivals, as he has nothing of import to add about them.

"Oh," Joanna seems surprised by the request but obliges by slipping off the watch and handing it over. It's one of those sports ones with fancy timers and whatnot. "That's a nice looking watch," she comments idly, before answering Andrew's question. "Well, it seems that the Cylons have us bracketed on both sides with forces in Paros and Tinos, but don't seem to be worrying too much about the space inbetween."

"I wonder why," Andrew mentions, furrowing his brow. "I mean, I'm glad, of course. It seems weird that they'd pound the 12 colonies, but not finish the job. I wonder how many pockets of people are left." He eyes the watch exchange, but says nothing about it.

"It was a gift. It old Tauron craftsmanship. Keeps excellent time as long as it's wound regularly. It ran down at some point during…well. Everything. I've not been able to correct it properly. Thank you." Cahen offers that last to Joanna as he takes her watch, going to seat himself in a chair so he can fiddle with his timepiece. "Did our visitors have any word of what they'd heard of the other colonies?" His tone while asking that question is kept carefully level. "They've been in contact with a ship, supposedly."

Joanna gives an appreciative nod regarding the watch, and puts hers back on when Cahen's done with it. "Angel said that the other colonies were all destroyed, but I don't buy that. The Kharon picked up other survivors from somewhere, and dumped them off here. I imagine there are pockets like ours scattered around all over."

"Are…is anyone starting up like a government, or a real village or anything?" Andrew asks. "I mean, if they're going to keep doing that, picking up people and dropping them here…it just doesn't seem right."

Cahen passes Joanna's watch back to her once he's noted the correct time, though getting his own set is a more delicate chore. He presses his thumb into a cunningly hidden little clasp on the underside and the face pops open. It's designed not unlike a locket. There even appears to be a photograph inside, though the doctor's fingers are cupped as he manipulates the watch hands, so it's difficult to tell what it depicts. "That would seem logical…" he agrees softly when Joanna mentions pockets of survivors on other colonies. He doesn't seem to quite register Andrew's words, expression growing thoughtful and rather inward.

Joanna watches Cahen idly, a thoughtful look as he fiddles with the watch, but then shakes her head to Andrew. "They seem fairly disorganized, from what they've said and what you guys saw at the park. And I suppose I shouldn't say 'dump' - the people who came back apparently did so willingly, rather than join the military or stay aboard the Kharon."

Andrew nods solemnly. And then ventures forth with something slightly off-topic. "I wouldn't either. Join the military right now. It seems like that would just put a huge target on your back for the Cylons, especially in a smaller ship like they have, not like a real battlestar or anything. It makes a lot more sense to hole up somewhere, survive.." He looks up, having delivered his speech to the floor. "You know?" he asks of both adults.

"Poor choice to give people all the same…left down here or left in some ship's hold up there…" Cahen mutters. "Not, I suppose, that there are many good choices…" Maybe he is listening closer than he appears. The ticking sound from his watch is soft but audible with the casing open. He listens to it a moment, watches the hands move, nods shortly in satisfaction, then snaps the face closed again.

Joanna shrugs to Cahen. "I'm not sure what other options they have, honestly. I doubt an escort carrier is able to set up any sort of reasonable accommodations for them. I don't know, though." Her attention shifts to Andrew, then, lips pursing in a thin line. She takes off her reading glasses and folds them up. She doesn't answer right away, but glances over to see Cahen's reaction.

Andrew doesn't know what that expression on his aunt's face means, to judge from his own, but he grows defensive immediately. "They can't win. The Kharon, I mean. Tactically, strategically, there's no way for them to overcome the Cylons."

"I wouldn't know, myself. I have little knowledge of ships and their varying capabilities," Cahen says. He slides his watch back into his jacket when he's done fiddling with it. He looks up at the boy with some surprise. "Are they really attempting to fight? Just the one of them?"

Joanna doesn't respond to Andrew's point directly, since it's true. Instead she says, "I keep asking myself, is it enough just to survive? Let's say we stay here, hiding out just the twenty of us. What happens in five years? Or ten? Or thirty?"

Andrew nods slightly at Cahen. "That's the impression I got, I guess." He stops talking though when he hears Joanna's question. "I don't know," he finally answers. "Takes…it'll take more than twenty to do anything. I mean. I read once in a novel that it'd take two thousand people, unrelated, half men, half women, to repopulate the human race. I don't know if it's true or not, but we're a long way away from that here."

"It does seem…unproductive. To carry out a single-carrier war against the Cylons," Cahen says mildly. 'Unproductive' was probably not the first word that entered his mind, but he seems to be editing himself in front of the boy. "I would think they could do more good searching the other colonies for survivors." He nods a little at Andrew's words, looking distracted, as if doing those calculations in his head. "I read the same one, I think. Years ago. I don't think that number's far off if you take the long view. The gene pool needs proper depth to sustain itself."

Joanna nods. "And that's probably assuming an ideal case, not the case where you've got Cylons knocking people off occasionally, a population with various ages, inadequate food, bare bones healthcare - no offense, doc - and so on. The odds of us surviving beyond your generation, Andrew, are pretty slim if all we do is hole up and hide." A glance to Cahen. "I wouldn't argue against searching for other survivors, but I for one don't intend to spend the rest of my days hiding in a farmhouse waiting for the Cylons to come finish the job."

"So what do we do?" Andrew asks. "Wandering around trying to find as many people as possible to…do what, exactly?"

Cahen snorts softly. "Offense? None taken, Miss Archer. I am keenly aware of the spartan nature of our medical situation. Keenly." And uncomfortably, from his tone. "The doctor with the party at the amusement park - Odessyeon, I think her name was - mentioned their people had access to a clinic in their bunker. Military-grade pharmaceuticals, a small surgical area…not much, she said, but it sounds a grand find to my way of thinking." He doesn't interject any opinion of his own, though he does turn curiously toward Joanna to hear her answer to Andrew's question.

…(then Cahen asked if it was equipped for surgery, because he likes to cut on things)…

"Lots of light, some drugs, hot water, and all the scalpels you'll need…" Alyssa says. She shrugs. "I've been really lucky, so far.""

"To fight," Joanna replies simply to Andrew. "Guerrila warfare - disrupting supply lines, hit and run attacks. We can't fight them head on, of course, but we can make them hurt. And if we can coordinate with other groups on the planet, or on the other colonies, who knows what we might accomplish." She taps her glasses on the map, looking down at it, and admits, "Which could be nothing, but I'm willing to take the chance." A glance to Cahen in confusion. "That's strange. The supply situation Angel described wasn't that great."

"What supply lines? I…" Andrew frowns, getting his feet. "I…I'm not going to do anything without a real target and a real plan," he announces, somewhat incongruously. And then he stalks off, no doubt to get food for his never-filled stomach.

"I wish I'd got the chance to speak with her further," Cahen says, frowning slimly. "If nothing else, we might have resources we could pool." He watches Andrew go, then turns his gaze back to Joanna. "How old is he?"

Joanna is mildly startled by Andrew's abrupt departure, but doesn't seem too bothered by it. She quirks a little smile at Cahen's question. "Seventeen going on thirty-five." She lets out a sigh and starts carefully folding the map back up. "We'll meet up with them again. I made arrangements for regular radio contact to start, and we'll go from there." After the map is folded, she glances over at the doctor. "You don't seem to keen on the idea of fighting either."

Cahen shakes his head slightlyat Joanna's reply about Andrew. "That girl with the others at the amusement park didn't look much older. My gods…What a world they've been left with…" He trails off, shrugging at her question about fighting. "Keen? Well, no. Look, I gather you have some…experience with this sort of thing. You and the priest. For my part, I'm no soldier." Another shrug. "And what do you mean to accomplish by it? This…guerrilla warfare."

Joanna nods grimly at his assessment. "Not much of one, at that," she agrees quietly, then nods. "I spent twelve years in the marines. Lysander was a sniper. A few of the others have some military background as well. I'm certainly not expecting you to pick up a gun and wade in, unless of course you want to. As to what I intend to accomplish? If we can make it unpleasant enough for the Cylons to stay here, they just might decide it's not worth it and leave. At the very least, it will send a message that we're down but not out."

Cahen looks decidedly skeptical at that. "After coming down on the colonies like this, you think they can be harassed into leaving?" He sighs. "Listen, it's not that I don't…I'm not keen on just finding a rock to crawl under but…" He doesn't seem to know quite what he wants to say. He lets out another sigh. "…the reality of the situation is what it is."

"The reality of the situation is that /unless/ the Cylons leave, whoever's left down here is dead. So I see two choices: we can either accept our fate and crawl under a rock, or we can take that chance - however slim - that there might be a way out." Joanna gives him a slight smile. "I'm taking that chance." She rises, then, and adds, "Of course, if you can find a better idea, I'm all for it."

Cahen shakes his head, though it seems less a rejection of Joanna's words themselves than something in his own head. "I shouldn't even be here." It's muttered under his breath, and he seems half-surprised he said it aloud. He clears his throat, standing. "I haven't a clue what to do. Anyhow. I'll leave you to it. Thank you for the use of your watch."

Joanna looks sympathetic at Cahen's remark. She starts walking towards the door, pausing when she passes Cahen. "None of us should be here. But you saved my life, so I for one am very glad you are." She gives him a slight smile and then says, "Get some rest."

Cahen shrugs to that, taken out of his thoughts by the remark. "It's nothing. I mean…I'm grateful I could be of some assistance, but don't think on it too much. You've come through very well, and that's typically as much to do with the patient as the doctor." He clears his throat. "I'm just in need of some air, I think. Have a good night." He inclines his head to Joanna as he passes her, though he doesn't quite return the smile.

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