The Reverie Alone Will Do
The Reverie Alone Will Do
Summary: Roubani stops by the Sec Hub to drop off a creation by Nine & pauses to discuss the prisoner with the S2.
Date: PH219 (23 Nov 2009)
Related Logs: Death From Above, the rest of the Jules and Nine logs, & Measure by Measure.

CEC Kharon, Deck 2, Security Hub

IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #219
OOC Time: Mon Nov 23 16:03:46 2009

A pair of staggered desks flank the entrance, one occupied during most hours by a desk sergeant, and the other rotates between other personnel. In the back is a bank of monitors on the port wall in a 180 degree view. The arc of stacked flatscreens is under the watchful eye of an MP or three during most hours of the day, and recorded for review otherwise. These monitors are visible from the S2's desk (directly across on the starboard wall) and the station set just in front of them. One of the feeds always on display is a feed of the Brig. Other secure areas have been wired in since warday. A Colonial Marine Corps flag hangs proudly in the corner, accompanied by pictures of Marines in action and paintings depicting famous battles of the Cylon War and other actions. An armored door at the far end of the room displays in bright white lettering 'Primary Small Arms,' and holds the main locker for storing the rifles and explosives aboard. A hatch midway through the room leads into the Small Arms Range.

Private Rian enters from the hall, backlit from the neon lights in the corridor as she pauses a moment to look within the secuirty hub. Dressed in her blacks she moves across the room, dark eyes looking over the flatscreens and the little figures within them. Pulling out a metal chair she quickly takes a seat, crossing her arms over her chest. However she only sits for a moment, rising and heavy boots stride across the room. Uneasy, pacing.

A few minutes after the condition step-down to 2, Salazar returns from a patrols, rifle in hand. She pulls off her helmet as she makes her way in, hair sweaty and a little mussed, strands of black whispy around her forehead. She runs a hand through her hair, then glances around the Hub as a few marines filter in and out to swap out gear. She heads for the coffee, herself. She's lost count of the cups. "Private."

Rian continues her long legged strides across the hub, nodding hellos to other marines that come and go. As she sees the S2 her back straightens and her shoulders square up. "Sir," she speaks and offers her best salute.

Salazar returns a salute that isn't as crisp as her usual. "As you were." She nods to the coffee pot. "I'd have some if you've eaten today. This looks like it could be a long haul." Every 42 minutes, for the last 22 hours, action stations has been called. Doesn't seem to be letting up anytime soon.

Roubani is not a usual face in the security hub. It's a wonder he even knew where it was. In his flightsuit, which he hasn't changed out for nearly a full day now, he has a small covered box in his hands as he stops at the front. "Ensign Salazar Nikos, please."

Rian glances to the coffee pot but doesn't say anything. Dropping her arm she clasps them behind her back as she begins pacing through the desks once more. Back and forth and back again. As the pilot enters she stops, a brow raised in interest.

The cup is only about half full by the time Sal replaces the coffee pot. She passes on sweetener and artificial cream powder, which is running a bit low in here anyway. "Right here, Lieutenant." Salazar replies for the Desk Sergeant. There isn't a lot of time between assaults, so the S2 doesn't waste any. She jerks a thumb toward her desk, where there's a chair opposite it. "Have a seat. Would you like a hit of coffee?" She grabs another mug and pours it without waiting, then turns to head back to her desk. Her rifle and helmet are laid across it already. She's in blacks, full armor.

"No, thank you." Roubani rubs a thumb into the puffy skin under his eyes, walking briskly towards the S2's area. Rian receives a slight nod, the type offered when there's no recognition and no real time for to create any. The box is extended towards her, without any more small talk. His voice, when he speaks, is quiet and almost reluctant to have to speak. "Petty Officer Sjetyrnnine gave me this some months ago. In light of recent events, I thought it best security take it."

Salazar thunks a half full cup of coffee down in front of the pilot, then scoots it off as he refuses it. She leaves it on her desk, then turns to face Roubani. Who has time for a full cup these days? She takes the box from him, then drops into her chair, taking a moment off of her feet. She'll drink the other cup when it's cold, if Rian doesn't take it either. Once seated, she opens the box, and regards the contents for a moment.

The young JG's brows are drawn, corners of his mouth slightly tense. Roubani too watches what Salazar's got in her hands rather than her face for a few moments, then looks back up. "It hasn't…behaved strangely, or anything like that." Which, you know, is a relative sort of statement.

"Ah." Salazar closes the box, and promptly shoves it into the desk drawer, the one that locks. "Thank you for bringing that up, Lieutenant. Consider the application of the last mechanical creation, that decision seems prudent." She regards the dark haired pilot for a long moment, then asks, "How familiar are you with the POs robots? Would you describe her as more attached to them than her fellow engineers?"

"She has an affinity for them," Roubani says, mildness veiling the exhaustion in his voice. "She seemed to prefer them oftentimes, but I never thought it strange. I've known many like her." He reaches up, scratching at matted hair.

"Have you ever heard her express pro-cylon statements?" Salazar's questions are fairly easy to follow. That path has been well traveled lately. She reaches for her coffee, and sips.

Roubani exhales quietly. He had to have known that was coming. "I wouldn't have called it "pro-cylon", per se, but she has spoken in the past about the war. That we should attempt to negotiate with the cylons rather than fight them."

Salazar considers the response carefully. "I appreciate the tangled nature of this case, Lieutenant. The physical evidence says the PO committed murder, and used one of her robots to do it. We're concerned about what other damage she may have done to the ship assuming this is somehow motivated by a desire to aid the cylons."

Roubani nods slowly. "I understand that concern. But I would be doubtful she has harmed the ship itself, given her attachment to it." He pauses, eyes flicker left. "Before she was brought out to the hall, she said to me, 'Kharon. He is very kind to us. You; remember to owe him…everything'. Even in the face of all this it's hard for me to believe she would do anything mechanically damaging to it."

Salazar nods at that. Her eyes drop to her coffee briefly, then she glances over to the security monitors. One shows the Brig. Her gaze returns to Roubani after a few beats. "That's one small consolation." Provided the ship survives these string attacks long enough to benefit from… a lack of sabotage. "Do you have any additional comments you'd like to put on record about the PO?"

"Not at the moment. If I remember anything relevant I will be sure to inform you." It could just be the lack of sleep preventing Roubani from dredging up anything further. He hesitates a moment, then, "I would like to speak to her, if possible. Back there in the corridor she was talking more than she has in ages. She might still be willing to."

Salazar nods simply. "I'll make a note in the file." Usually she refuses requests such as this, preferring to wait for official interrogation. She's gotten the idea, from various sources, that Nine isn't… like other people. "If you'd like to talk to her, you can take a few moments as your schedule permits. Sign in and out, no gifts. The duty MP may ask you to leave at any time." The S2 does not remind the pilot that everything in the Brig is recorded. "One pass for a consecutive period of time. Further visits may be requested in writing. I would expect you to report anything you learn directly to this office."

"I understand." Roubani's voice remains quietly reserved. "I will be back shortly." After pre-flight, one guesses. And possibly the next attack. "Thank you, Ensign."

Salazar nods to the pilot. "Good hunting," is all she says, reaching over for an updated report as it comes in from CIC. She returns to her coffee, and flips open the folder. About four seconds later, she's on her feet to refresh the coffee, grab her rifle, and head out.

Rian continues to pace the security hub.

As the hatch closes behind LtJG Roubani, Salazar moves to the coffee pot to refresh her half cup. She seems to have forgotten the already cooling (other) half cup that sits on her desk. She has a file in hand, just delivered, and her attention is pretty solidly on the contents at the moment.

Rian finally stops and turns to the S2, "isn't there anything we can do sir? This waiting around is killing me."

Perhaps not rested, but at least far less than completely frazzled, Ashe walks into the Hub for the good ol' duty reporting that is required at those fun beginning of shift intervals.

"There's nothing we can do but patrol the vessel, keep the ship secure, and assist where needed. Presenting a united front, and being outwardly calm, is in part our gift to our fellow soldiers. When you leave the Hub, do your best to tone down the caged tiger impression," Salazar replies, flipping the folder closed before she takes another hit of coffee. "Every 42 minutes, we have to be ready to do whatever it asked of us." She, too, is itching to get some combat in. Something other than hurrying up to wait. She, however, doesn't express this. "Smoke 'em if you got 'em. The air wing is taking some pretty heavy casualties. If you need to, go take them some coffee. It'll get you moving, and you can keep your hands busy that way." Did she just say go play coffee bitch for the pilots?

Rian's dark eyes flash to the side for a moment, eyeing up the Corporal. Hiding a frown she salutes him, "Sir."

Ashe catches the back end of Salazar's words and nods his head, "Still running coffee and cheerleading?" He asks towards Sal, not even sounding the slightest bit sarcastic for once, regarding pilots and everything! "If there's anything else sir, fire word my way. Hell if I need to be strapped to the top of a Raptor with a rifle.." When Rian salutes him, Ashe blinks and shakes his head, "Not an officer private. You only salute officer's. I'm just a dumbass who is lucky." The last is said with a glance towards Salazar, "Too lucky."

"That can change, Corporal," Salazar replies to Ashe, without so much as a flicker in her expression.

Rian brushes her cheek with the back of her hand, embarrassed. "Oh." Turning her back to him she looks to Sal, placing her palms on the S2's desk and leaning forward, "are you sure there isn't anything /else/ I could do to be of use?"

Salazar's eyes flick to Rian again, dark eyes appraising. She's quiet for a beat, two, three, four, fiiiive. "I think the coffee should do it, Private." And that's where the suggestion turns into an order. Life in the Sec Hub. Ain't it grand?

"Ain't that the truth." Ashe says towards Sal, whether he's heard anything through the grapevine or simply is just part of the ship. "Sir, I can hold down the Hub if you need a moment to stretch your legs."

Rian pushes off from the desk, turning before Salazar can she her exasperated expression. Heavy feet bring her to the coffee machine, clunking around as she finds the filter and grounds. Running the sink she fills the pitcher with water, dumping it into the machine before flicking the switch. Turning to face the room once more she crosses her arms, long black bangs hiding most of her frown.

If Salazar is looking to bust chops, she doesn't take the opportunity Rian presents, at least not at this time. Something may have her a little distracted. Or sleep dep. "That would be appreciate, Corporal. Try not to go crazy at any point in my absence."

"I'll do my best sir." Ashe responds with a smirk. "If I'm feeling a case of the crazies, I'll make sure to stow all gear and cuff myself up." He's certainly joking. Right? Well the tone doesn't seem to be joking.

Rian eyes the corporal but says nothing. As the coffee finishes she takes the pitcher and starts for the hatch.

Salazar smirks, coffee cup in hand as she heads for the hatch. "Oorah."

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