Chock Full Of Win and Debate
Chock Full of Win and Debate
Summary: Kick off meeting for the fledgling civilian interim governing body.
Date: 87 ACH
Related Logs: Related Logs None

(*Note: If there are related logs, I am unaware of them. I am woefully behind on reading them. Please feel free to fix it if you know of any. Also, if you were at the meeting and I missed you, please feel free to add yourselves. Thank you. ~Isa's player)

Courthouse Lobby Carina - Main Level
87 ACH 23817 Souls

Entering, the first thing the person sees is a large plaque showing the symbol of the Colonial Judicial Government branch. From this central lobby, there are many doors, each labeled to serve a different purpose.
-----< Condition Three - Public Area >----

"Perfectly so." Nicholas' face becomes a bright smile when the familiar face is confirmed. "And look at you. Not looking a day over thirty, as always. How have you been?" They're standing over by a wall, waiting for things to kick up.

Fulton chuckles, shaking his head, "I've been thirty for a while now, but mostly, I've just been busy." He lifts his clipboard. "Thank gods that everyone’s alright. I hope there were no problems with your endeavors on the Destiny during the separation."

Nicholas replies a little drily, "I think, Mr. Fulton, that the problems will be beginning now that we're all back. We ought to go have a drink after this, I'll tell you all about it." One hand waves slightly. "I hope you weren't too miffed about the Cloudburster…Salizar did tell you? She brought us back."

Timon wanders into the courthouse. He's walking a straight line and doesn't /appear/ intoxicated, but there's a highly relaxed look about him. Chemically relaxed, one might say. He yawns, peering around with somewhat reddened eyes. "This where we're plotting the coup, then?" he asks loudly, of no one and everyone. He sounds quite jovial, obviously not serious. Or just highly amused by the universe in general.

The lobby of the courthouse has been set up with chairs facing a podium. Off to one side, a table has been placed. The table has plates of small sandwiches, cookies and a punch bowl filled with a bright pink liquid that looks like kool-aide. Various people mill about conversing or otherwise passing the time.
The door to the JAG office opens at last and Isabeau comes out. She pauses to greet a few people, but makes her way as quickly as she can to the podium. Once there, she turns on the audio. Somehow, the typical squeal of electronics starting up is avoided. "Excuse me, all? Please have a seat and we can begin."

Fulton shakes his head, then tilts it, "I heard about it, Salizar sent me a message but I haven't seen the Cloudburster yet. If it helped get people to safety, frakit, I'll figure something out with what's left." He looks to the podium, then back to Nicholas, "Let's get some seats, then we can talk after the meeting."

"Indeed." Nicholas smiles at Fulton, then lifts a hand as he spots Timon. "Mr. Amichai. Come and sit with us?" He glances at Isabeau getting started and moves over to a clump of chairs, leaving room for two more in the immediate space.

Timon shambles over to the get some cookies. The old man takes far more than his fair share of the cookies. He's in the mood to munch, apparently. He loads a napkin down with those, and gets himself a glass of kool-aid for good measure. "Eh? What?" He peers at Nicholas when he's spoken to. Blinking a few times. "Oh, fine, fine. Long as you're not too near the front. Things public exercises in democracy tend to get dreadfully boring, and I'm hoping to snag an easy napping spot."

As people begin to settle, Isabeau watches. She tries to gauge the overall mood of those present. When the room is reasonably quiet, she smiles, "Thank you all for coming. I shall try to keep this brief. As I am sure that you all are aware, it has been some time since we have heard from the President or any of the cabinet. The military has been incredibly diligent and considerate in their interactions with the civilian population. However, this does stretch their resources." She pauses for a moment to let some of that sink in. Her gaze remains lifted, focusing one by one on several people in different areas of the audience. "As such, it is time that we come together to establish an interim government, not only to assist the Military in their tireless work to provide for our common defense, but to re-establish common law, provide for our citizens and prepare for the future."

Fulton nods to Nicholas, and looks to Timon, smirking briefly before he moves to take a seat, and looks to Isabeau, tilting his head slightly as he listens.

Paris is a shoe-in for worst-dressed, least-respectable looking person at the gathering. He comes in late, muttering to himself about something, and generally looking sour. Oh, there's already a speech going on. Seeing who it is, he smiles in an odd way, and then starts looking around the crowd.

Nicholas raises an eyebrow, looking mildly amused at the spin Isabeau's chosen to employ. He crosses his legs, folding his hands neatly atop his knee, and says nothing for now.

Timon plops down next to Nicholas and gets to business. Which, for him, mainly involves eating cookies. Munch, munch, munch. His focus isn't on Isabeau. But then, his focus isn't really on anything at the moment. He's sort of eyeing off into space as he munches. But he's quiet and content. As a stone.

Adele slips into the lobby, attempting to be discreet about her lateness. She gives an apologetic glance to Isabeau, then settles into a seat near the back.

Isabeau's pause is only long enough for her words to settle and the ideas to take root. As there are no immediate questions, she moves on. "What I wish to propose is a system of elected officials, much like we had back at the colonies. Initially, each colony would elect one representative. Once they have been elected, several things can happen. First, they would elect a leader from their number who would act as a governor of the civilian population. Next they would conduct a census and establish representation based on population. This body would act as a governing council to establish laws, over see education, housing and a civilian police force." She offers Adele a quick and quiet smile of welcome, then moves on. "Are there any questions or concerns up to this point?"

Nicholas mms. He does raise his index finger to loft it in the air and wait. Question, hooray.

Fulton listens, considering for a moment, then looks to Nicholas as the man indicates a question.

Timon idly wipes some crumbs off his bathrobe. Yes, he's wearing a bathrobe to a public meeting. The slight air of chemically-induced relaxation isn't the only thing keeping him comfortable. His red-eyed gaze gradually drifts in Isabeau's direction, though her talking seems to remain background noise to him. He does focus on her now. Looking at her. Leering at her, more precisely. Up and down, up and down.

Once he's made his tardy and generally motley entrance, Paris goes people-hunting in the crowds. Nick raising a hand certainly facilitates finding him, which was, of course, what he was trying to do. The cargo pilot ambles that way then, picking out a seat in the row just behind the other man. If he has any commentary, he holds it for the moment. Watch and listen first, or something.

James glances to Nicholas, then lifts his own hand briefly, nodding towards Isabeau to catch her attention. Another question. Joy.

Adele continues to sit, quietly. She looks interested in those who have a question, and waits for Isabeau to acknowledge them.

Isabeau's gaze flickers over the group and comes to rest first on Nicholas. She smiles once at the man, nodding, "Yes? There in the third row. Please stand so that everyone can hear, sir?" A glance flickers to James and the smile warms a moment and she indicates him, "If you would allow me to answer the first question, sir? You will be second."

Nicholas turns briefly to glance behind him as Isabeau mentions another hand up. He gives James a polite smile and looks back at the woman at the podium. "The colonies are not equally represented. As some might say they never have been, but beside the point." He smiles a little as he lowers his hand, straightening his tie. "With the imbalance of populations from different colonies aboard these ships, I suspect you would run into the problem of colonies with greater representative populations here feeling cheated out of weight of vote. Moreover, to call for each 'Colony' to elect an official is to imply that interests in this new civilization of ours still run along colony lines, which in my experience I find they do not. As a matter of fact I fear it may be damaging. Has it been proposed that political representation be done by ship, instead, or other more pragmatic lines?" He pauses a moment, adding, "And I do apologize, Miss…I believe I've missed your name."

Nicholas also stood, somewhere in there.

James acknowledges both with a slight nod, patiently waiting his turn.

Fulton listens carefully to Nicholas' concerns and suggestions, looking to Isabeau as the man finishes voicing his concerns.

Paris might be seen nodding along with Nick in the back. Given his colony of origin, it might be little surprise. The man's expression likewise suggests there may be quite a bit more on his mind than just that, but he's keeping mute for the moment.

"Oh, I say, there's a fine notion!" Timon exclaims after Nicholas speaks. Probably acting outside the rules of polite meeting discourse. But, given the look of the man, everyone is probably just lucky he remembered to put pants on before coming. "Quite so. Always found the Quorum a damned creaky, stifling body, anyway. And the colonies are gone anyway, aren't they? We're all frakked together, might as well stop pretending otherwise." He eats another cookie. Munch, munch.

Nicholas keeps his eyes on Isabeau but smiles nonetheless at Timon's outburst next to him.

Reighner comes in from Housing Area.

Adele looks profoundly interested in what the response will be to Nicholas' question, and her gaze shifts from the man who raised it to the woman leading the meeting.

Isabeau nods as she listens to the question and concerns. She pulls a pad of paper nearer and begins to make notes. Finally, looking up, she nods, "Ah, my apologies, sir. I am Isabeau Aragon de Castile y Vargas. I am an Attorney at Law, Fleet Prosecutor and Civilian Liaison to the Fleet." While she does state her titles and authorities and all, her gaze remains focused and her tone mild, "Those are excellent suggestions, Mr…?" A brow lifts, though she does not actually require an answer. "And perfectly appropriate for this venue. It is very possible that a ship based representation model is more appropriate for now and can certainly be modified when we return to a ground-based civilization. It would definitely allow for a greater equity in representation, which is what we are striving for." Her pen taps a little and she glances briefly at the coot next to the dapper gentleman. He is given a smile that is more neutral. Finally, she nods to James.

Nicholas replies to the unspoken question about his identity, "Nicholas Luma. Thank you." He re-takes his seat, though his expression's still got plenty of questions written on it. He turns a bit to hear James now though.

Timon winks at Isabeau when she smiles at him. Rakishly. Leering at her some more. That outburst seems to have exhausted his public speaking reflexes for the moment.

Fulton listens to the response, thoughtfully, then looks back to where James is, and listens, remaining quiet for the moment.

James pulls himself to his feet, clearing his throat quietly and offering a brief smile of support. "James Holloway, Miss Aragon. I should like to add my voice to that of the honorable gentleman here, and perhaps take the suggestion a point further. Until such a time as a census has been established, that we might know a little more about the demographics of the population we intend to see represented, I should put forward the suggestion that this council should consist of a dozen members, elected equally, regardless of their ship, colony or background."

Nicholas watches James at that question and nods thoughtfully, then turns around to see Isabeau's response to that.

Fulton nods slightly at what James says, and lifts a hand to be recognized to be in the question queue, but once recognized, he seems content to wait till called upon.

Adele looks appreciative as James makes his suggestion, and she gives him a familiar smile before she looks once again in Isabeau's direction.

Paris is still keeping quiet. But it really looks like he's simmering with something to say.

Lysander listens quietly to what's being said, glancing around for a few moments.

Timon's attention has drifted off again. He's raised his hand and is peering through his fingers at Isabeau. He seems suddenly /fascinated/ by his hand.

Isabeau inclines her head to Nicholas as he identifies himself. By the look in her eyes, the name is known to her even if the man's person was not. Putting a name to a face is always a nice thing. Turning to James as he begins to speak, she nods and makes another note, "That is an excellent notion, Mr. Holloway. It eliminates the consideration of Colony of origin and is equitable regardless of population dispersal across the ships. Thank you." She offers the man a quick smile, then turns to Fulton. Oh, Timon's antics are noted, but it is hard to tell whether he has a question or is masking a belch. Lifting her pen, she indicates Fulton with a nod, "Sir?"

Sasha drifted into the courthouse a little late, slacker that he is. But he takes a seat near the back, slouching into it and trying to look awake. Long night, probably.

Nicholas gets that look a lot. He smiles a little at Isabeau and then looks over at Fulton. This should be good.

Quietly, Reighner makes his way into the briefing. He takes a seat and listens, expression of austere attention.

Fulton rises from his chair, smiling, "John Fulton." He says simply. The man’s history in the fleet is not gone through and he doesn't seem to distinguish himself any more than that. With a slight turn toward Nicholas, "With respect to Mr. Luma, I believe Mr. Holloways suggestion is more workable of one, for one reason. There are eleven ships in the fleet, three of those being Military. This raises two possible fallouts with representation being done by ships. In one, three representative votes fall into military purview, in the other, Military ships get no vote in the government whatsoever." He shakes his head, "Neither option really allows for a fair and equal representation for all. Establishing a flat number of representatives, and an egalitarian voting process to elect those representatives, prevents unequal representation between a ship that has a crew of 200 such as the Hera, or a ship that has a population of 4500, such as the Destiny." He shrugs, "This will also allow equal voice for every Citizen." He shrugs at that point and retakes his seat.

"Hey I got a question." Uh oh. He who has sat simmering is finally speaking up, in total disregard of being called on or otherwise. "Is the military going to play along with this? Hand over authority to whatever government we come up with? Go back to taking orders from the civilians, like the 'good old days'?" Dubious, is he. "They gonna give us anything? Put the FTL back in my ship? Give us our own assurances against the cylons? Because if not, what's the point? Sounds like we're talking about electing a moot court who'll be able to hoard what little power and resources we have, skim things off the top, and just serve as puppet administrators for the military. And I say frak that. If I'm gonna live by the law of the gun, I don't feel much like empowering a bunch of politicians and petty bureaucrats as middle men to meddle in my affairs, harass me, tax me - whatever it is you think they're gonna do." Anarchy, thy name is Paris. Apparently, Fulton has given him some fodder too. "What you're talking about is just reinstating the old aristocracy. Caprica got nuked, if you missed it. Your Scorpia yards, too. Space dust. So why should anyone give a frak about any of that, about the Colonies? If we're gonna organize, it oughtta be about our interests, as denizens of the fleet, nothing more and nothing less." And here, he takes up Nicholas' point. "Interests by ship, by trade, by skill. Now I ain't any kind of politician, I don't care what sort of fancy system you come up with - but I can tell you right now that you can frak off with your thoughts of elevating yourselves back up to lord over the lot of us."

Sasha starts to frown slightly, as Fulton speaks. The more he talks, the more the young man's frown deepens. He sits up a little straighter in his seat now, dark eyes switching between the tall man, and Isabeau at the podium. "Hear, hear," he calls out from the back after Paris has spoken, Aquarian accent thick.

"Sounds like you should get yourself elected to council," Nicholas comments to Paris, with a slight grin. Wouldn't that be a trip.

James clears his throat quietly, rising to his feet once more and waiting to be recognized.

Adele brings a hand to her mouth, clearing her throat quietly. She glances askance at James as he rises, and looks as though she's debating inwardly whether to do the same.

Isabeau has her own replies both to Fulton and to Paris. She clears her throat as though to reply, but this forum is to hear the thoughts of the people. Turning to James, she inclines her head, giving him the floor.

Timon's hand stays up and he doesn't belch. "Fingernails are so /odd/ aren't they…?" he mutters under his breath as an aside to Nicholas. Needing to share this random thought with someone. He still seems more intent on staring at his fingers than participating, but it is kind of hard to tell.

Nicholas settles back, looking as though he might have a comment to make more loudly, but he waits to hear what James has to say first. He tilts his head towards Timon, glancing at the man's hand. A flicker of amusement, then he looks back at James.
Lysander has reconnected.

Lysander has listened thoughtfully, nodding once in a while, before he blinks a bit at the words of Paris. Studying the man for a few moments, and nodding a bit thoughtfully to some part of what's being said.

Paris doesn't necessarily seem like he is -done-, but there is a certain lull that comes when he has said his bit, given his little speech. He crosses his arms over his chest, left arm on top, and sits back a little - perhaps fuming still - but waiting to hear what else people have to say. He does glance at Nick a little strangely, but that's nothing new.

Fulton turns in his chair to look to Paris, listening. He considers, then looks at Timon and smirks, then looks to Paris, "You want an FTL? You want to jump away and strike off on your own?" His brows lift, "What kind of governmental structure were you thinking of implementing?" He gestures to Paris, "Go for it, everyone’s listening."

Isabeau holds up her hand and motions to James, "Excuse me, gentlemen. Mr. Holloway has the floor. The gentleman in the back is welcome to express his views after Mr. Holloway has had a chance to speak."

James nods politely, turning then towards Paris to offer him a bow of his head. "Sir, I believe there has been some confusion about the democratic system which has been put forward. Any council should indeed, as you say, have the interests of the entire population in mind. It is for that reason that every individual of legal majority should have the right to stand for election, and the right to place a vote for their candidate of choice. If you were to feel that your issues were not being addressed, you should be within your rights, and indeed encouraged, to stand for election yourself in order that your platform might be heard. A council is not a despotic tyranny, but a collection of voices taken as a representation of the voices of every individual within this fleet."

Fulton was looking back to Paris when Isabeau moved on. He looks back when she speaks, and then looks to James, listening.

"I want an FTL, he wants and FTL, we all want an FTL too-too-too…" Timon sing-songs softly. Not to the whole room, but it's audible to those around him.

Nicholas lifts his hand once James is done.

That cinches it. James' words bring another appreciative nod of Adele's head, and she remains seated after he's spoken.

Sasha keeps his mouth shut for the time being, though he's watching and listening very carefully to the speakers as each takes his or her turn. James, in particular, is scrutinized heavily.

"I want my FTL -back-. Pegasus took it. Military can get frakked, government can get frakked, everyone can get frakked as far as I'm concerned as long as there's that hole sitting in the back of my ship." Paris is in a -mood-, clearly. "I wanna be able to strike off on my own if that's my own frakking stupid decision, yes," he tells Fulton. "Don't think I'd do it, but that ain't the point. Also, thanks for the drinks." … What? He glances sidelong at James. "Yeah, I have a basic working definition of the word. I'm also pretty sure most folk have a different working understanding of it if they were from one of the 'better' colonies. How'd that representation work out for Sagittaron? They're talking about Colonial quorums, about councils, about all the political tricks that will make sure those 'free and fair' elections are ever that in anything but name." He snorts. "And I still haven't heard anything about what the military is going to do with this. If they're not ceding authority, it strikes me as a petty exercise in politics for the benefit of a -small-, select few - not for the general population."

Fulton nods, looking at James, then looks at Paris, "Get frakked." He nods, "Kay." He turns back around, making a note of that on his clipboard, "..geeet…fraaaaakked.." He says as he writes, and nods, muttering, "And, he raided the Cloudburster bar." He then quiets, and looks to Isabeau, apparently, having reached his limit of discussing politics with Paris.

Nicholas leaves his index finger raised, waiting for the noise to die down.

Isabeau holds up her hands, "I am sorry. Allow me to address things in order." Then, noting Nicholas' hand, she nods, "Please. Then, I will address the gentleman's concerns."

Nicholas gets back to his feet, smoothly. "I can understand the issues that have been brought…" he gestures to Paris rather than say his name, since Paris didn't give it. "I'm from Sagittaron myself, after all, and as he has seemed to enjoy bringing up, my colony is well known for having developed a severe allergy to bureaucracy. One that exploded into violence time and time again, and I can't bring myself to say that sometimes it wasn't for valid reason. A fear of tyranny from above is a valid one, especially with such a relatively small population. I think, however, that things like distribution of supply and issues like this are things that can't be solved prior to a government in place. It requires attention to fleet economics and a market, among other factors, that can't be put in place until there's a government to do it. At least not officially, shall I say. With a broken economy as we have now we don't have the individual power to address individual needs, relying instead on what people regard as handouts that can be given and taken away as the military chooses." He pauses and clears his throat. "The concern about the military's role in this is also valid, in my opinion. Prior to this, someone wouldn't hold active military rank and also serve in government. Too many cross-interests. They might sit in advisory positions, but not in a formal governmental one. That said, a liaison that's available to bring military concerns to a council might be more acceptable."

Isabeau listens, nodding from time to time. Turning to Paris, she begins quietly, "I believe that everyone can sympathize with your position, sir. Unfortunately, the Pegasus is beyond our reach and beyond any justice that could be brought to bear upon the ship's Captain. She left the Destiny and the other ships in her fleet after stripping them of useful parts. That action was neither lawful nor humane and is not condoned by the military nor would be by any civilian system. As for the Military stand on the formation of a civilian government, they are entirely behind the endeavor. They have offered enormous resources both in terms of personnel and ingenuity to see it established. Their cooperation and support has been nothing short of staggering. I am absolutely confident that the government that we establish will work in concert with the military for the good of the civilians. That is why we are here today. That said, yes, tyranny is always a concern. In order to see to it that the people have recourse, the government would be designed with a system of checks and balances that would allow for the removal of an ineffective or tyrannical leader or counsel member based on either a majority vote of his or her constituents or a vote of the council members themselves. As for the question of the relative worth of the colonies, if we divorce this council from the colonies and make them elected by citizens in districts divided by population regardless of colony of origin, which eliminates such prejudicial elements." Turning to Nicholas, she nods slightly, "Restricting the military from holding active counsel positions is a good idea, Mr. Luma. Yes. Not only are there too many cross-interests, but the military should be concerned with other issues. A liaison could be appointed from within the ranks…" Once more, she bends to take notes and nods. "Thank you, Mr. Luma." Turning to Paris, she tilts her head slightly, "Does that answer to some degree?"

At some point during all that, Timon got up. Not to speak. Though he does mutter "Pardon me, excuse me" a few times as he wanders back to the cookie table. He needs more munchies, apparently.

Fulton looks to Nicholas, nodding as he listens somewhat more interestedly. He then looks to Isabeau with raised brows. He nods, and moves back as Timon clambers over him. Ack Bathrobed poets!

"I know what happened," Paris offers in sort of a bland dismissal of her commentary on the Pegasus. Apparently it doesn't do much to remove the particular 'wound' they left him with. "As for what I'm hearing here, seeing here, is a few things. I heard 'support' and 'concert', and I heard something about removing ineffective council members. What I didn't hear is anything about authority. What about sanctioning unethical military officers? What about civilian -control-? I can pretty much go and assume since you didn't say anything about those things that they're a 'no', eh?" He breathes out in a short snort. "Still strikes me as all a bit of song and dance and back-patting to elect a government that's just a subservient arm to them. Nick's right that we need organization, infrastructure, all that, but creating a whole lot of government, of bureaucracy, of politics to control that -for- the military sounds pretty frakked up to me. I'm freer now - and I ain't given up what little freedom I got left, that's for frakkin' sure." He pauses a moment, "If there was a council, I agree with that fella," a gesture suggests James, "That it oughta be totally, completely free. I don't know what you mean to suggest by districts, but it sounds suspicious to me. We have ships, we have decks, and we have jobs - that's how we're divided these days. And you can be frakkin' sure I ain't gonna put up with a government where the guys working on the tylium refinery or on the cargo haul don't get just as big of a say in how things are gonna be." He leans back in his seat. "An' the last thing I heard, from what you were sayin', is that it sounds like you're already all nice and friendly with the military, that we already have a bunch of pretty-talkin' aristocrats lording over us. What made this meeting possible, you better be sure, was -us- all showin' up." The man's voice is more even now, although no less passionate, "You take anything from this meeting - it oughtta be that, 'miss'."

Reighner runs his fingers through his hair. He cants his head slightly and raises his hand to be recognized.

Fulton doesn't look back at Paris, he's not going to get into that little trap, Isabeau though, doesn't seem to have that option.

Timon is scrounging for cookies. Paris' words earn a snort but that's as much of a response as the old man gives. Munch, munch, munch.

James pulls himself once more to his feet. "Sir," he addresses Paris. "A civilian council outwith that elected to the colonial quorum by due democratic process does not have the legal power to intervene in military affairs. Likewise, however, short of a recognized and legal declaration of martial law, the military do not have the power to intervene in civil affairs. I was aboard the Destiny when the Pegasus illegally and immorally stripped her, and I am as appalled as you, I assure you, that such a thing could happen. However, it is with hope and optimism that I would like to see some organization of the civilians in this fleet in order to work /with/ the Genesis and the military who are with us now. The officers of this battlestar have demonstrated that they /do/ follow the laws laid down, unlike the behavior of the Pegasus, but I believe that if we are to have a say in the policies laid down for this fleet, we /must/ have a unified civilian voice to deal with the military on equal terms."

Adele, predictably, looks appreciative of James' words, yet again. She refrains from applause, because that would just be rude.

Fulton points to James over his shoulder, "Well said." He voices his support, then in a quieter voice, "Don't think it'll help, but well said."

"I think those that were onboard the Destiny over the last few days might have had their confidence a little rattled where military-civilian relations are concerned," Nicholas comments drily to all that. "But it does come down to needing a /civilian/ body that isn't scattered to the four winds."

Isabeau listens, her expression patient, "Sir. If you know what happened and know that the military had nothing to do with what happened to your FTL drive, it is logical to assume that they would not behave in that fashion. If that is not evidence enough, then consider that if they would be willing to do so, they would have done so with the Destiny or the other ships. They have not." Listening again, she clears her throat, "Perhaps you did not hear my introduction. For that I apologize. I am a civilian, and I am the Fleet Prosecutor. I investigate and bring to justice those in the military who break the law. Officers or enlisted, it makes no difference. This Government that we are putting together will have the authority to do its job without interference by the military." She shakes her head, "This government will act /for/ the civilians. Even for our citizens within the military. As for divisions into districts, I believe I stated that they would be based on population to be sure that every councilman or woman would represent an equal number of people. That means that everyone gets an equal say. An equal vote." She nods to James, her eyes flickering quickly his way, then back again, "Precisely. Thank you. In addition, while the military has worked long and hard to assist, but the final decision on the form the government will take and who is in power rests with the people. As long as the individual running for office has reached the age of majority, they can run for office. Anyone. From dockworker to professional heckler." She smiles at the man, "Even you, should you care to." More quietly, she adds, "I do realize that this is not worth the paper that it is written on without the will of the people behind it. It is why I called this meeting and why I am so glad to see all of you here." She pauses, then twitches a near smile toward Paris, "Even the professional hecklers. Without everyone's input, everyone's support, this will die before it is born." She pauses to look at Paris directly, "It is why I went out every day after the announcement was made to invite people to come. If I recall correctly, I even invited you." She maintains that eye contact for a moment, then turns to Reighner, "Sir? You have the floor."

"Hello," Reighner says, nodding with a slight smile to Isabeau. His voice is mild. "I think there should be an understanding that the main purpose of this proposed government is not a counterpoint to the military. This should not be belabored, for it is unproductive and divisive. The greatest benefit is, perhaps, a bit more mundane. Central planning, solvency, trade. The left hand knowing what the right is doing."

Nicholas did already give his required on-and-on about the economy, so he doesn't do it again. He re-crosses his legs, loosely folding his arms as he listens.

"That's a fancy way of saying you're happy to settle for a lesser government, ain't it?" Paris offers back to James. "The Colonial government had supreme power. That's all gone. If we're making something new why should it be any less? If you need your answer, go find a viewport and look out at that Battlestar - they don't want it, they won't let it happen, that's why. Just think about that." A pause. "Think about it, all of you." He looks back at Isabeau. "I'll believe in their nobility when I see it. So far, they're protecting resources they need, and that's all." What Nick mentions just starts him laughing. "Exactly. They're all jumping to boss us around - and they frakkin' sure tried on the Destiny." He's leaning back in his chair, that 'heckler' impulse perhaps subsiding - or at least, being retired to its earlier place of internal simmering - as the lawyers gang up on him a bit. "Whatever your job is, it sounds like a whole lot of meetings happened before this one - you announce those to the public?" Pause. "Didn't think so. So, sure - thanks for telling me about this one. Maybe you'll let us know about the next little meeting you have with the brass, to decide what's going to be ok, what we're gonna be allowed to vote on."

Greje tries to slip in unobtrusively, looking horribly awkward and embarrassed to be showing up late— or maybe at all— and she'd just woken up from a few hours' rest after the conclusion of her vigil to Aphrodite for the return of the Destiny, so she moves rather like an awkward, awkward zombie with sore knees, trying her best not to trip over anything on her way in and almost— -almost- succeeding. A clatter of a chair nearly kicked over and then rapidly held still announces her arrival, and with a blush coloring her cheeks she holds that chair still as if it might actively try to get away from her for a moment before she settles down in it, at the back, settling in to listen and half-hope that nobody saw that.

Sasha nods a little after Paris speaks, but still refrains from adding his own voice to the mix. Whatever he's thinking, it appears to be somewhat in line with the freighter pilot's view on things. The arriving Greje earns a sideways look, mostly unreadable before he returns to the proceedings.

Fulton shakes his head quietly, looking at his clipboard for a moment as he takes a deep breath, then simply lets it out, silently.

Timon watches the whole proceeding with narrowed eyes from the refreshment area. As if not quite approving. Though it's unclear who he disapproves of. Or perhaps he's just generally stoned. It's an either/or sort of situation.

Nicholas also glances towards the back at the sound of a clatter. He watches the incoming Military Captain a moment and then turns back around with a slight frown.

Isabeau nods to Reighner, "Indeed so, yes." Turning to Paris again, she listens, then speaks quietly. Maybe, if she does so, the man will listen. Just not so quietly that her voice does not carry so it probably defeats the purpose. "There were a lot of meetings prior to this one, yes. In part to ascertain whether the military would allow a civilian government at all. In part to determine what authority, if any, the new government would have. After all, if the military was going to establish a stranglehold on the civilian population, this meeting would have been pointless." She does notice Greje's entrance and darts the Priest a quick smile before looking back again. "Once I was certain that the law would be followed and the interim government given the authority and respect required to function, I called this meeting. From here on out, the formation and success of the interim government is up to us. Now…" She draws a breath and releases it. "Rather than continue with this angle of things, I would like to ask the gentleman to wait and see. If he does not like the way things are going, he is welcome to run for office." Looking down at her notes, she reads, then looks up again, "So, an elected council of 12 with a liaison from the military in attendance whose job is to take civilian concerns to the military. One elected individual who will act as a leader of the counsel but have no vote unless there is a tie. Is that a good summation of the proceedings thus far?" She looks around for further commentary or questions.

Reighner retakes his seat quietly and listens.

Nicholas arches a brow just a little bit at Isabeau's choice of words. "Ma'am?" He lifts a finger for some clarification. "I'm sorry, are you saying that the military made a choice on whether or not it was going to "allow" a democratic civilian body?"

Greje hurrays silently for The Story So Far as provided by Isabeau, giving the woman a feeble but grateful smile for getting her up to speed before she turns her head to look to the next to speak, leaning a cheek on her hand and then hiding a yawn, but blinking hard afterward to pay keen attention. She looks up to Isabeau, expectant of an answer.

"Nice of you to admit it was done in secret," Paris replies. He's not keeping his voice down. He wants it to be heard by -all-, clearly. "Nice to admit that you had to go to them like that to get permission. To know that we're begging for what we can get. You wanna give us their actual answer? Not your own dressed up version?" He looks aside at Nick, and then back to Isabeau. "I think we all know what kind of government this is going to be," he glances around the crowd, and then finishes with an angrier, rougher tone, " It's just a question of who's going to be better off under it, who is going to be -content- with what we're getting handed to us." The last, her plea for him to wait it out, is considered with an impassive look. "Sorry if I think it's better to raise these problems now - when we can do something about them - than later, when all is said and done and put in place." He doesn't give a yay or nay in reply to her bit on the actual proposed structure.

Isabeau blinks at the question and a blush touches her cheeks. Reviewing what she said, she pauses and shakes her head, "No. No. Thank you, Mr. Luma. That is not what I intended at all. That is not how it was." She blinks, glances at Paris, then continues, "The meetings that were held with the military were to establish jurisdictional limits. There was never any question that what the civilians choose to implement as an interim government was up to us. There was never any question that this civilian governing body would have authority. Thank you for asking, sir. I am sorry for the confusion my injudicious choice of language caused." Turning to Paris she nods again, "You are right that bringing up objections is important and encouraged. However, I believe that you have made your position clear. It is one of intolerance, suspicion and obstructionism. However, it is also highly useful and valid." Her gaze turns back to the crowd at large. "Are there any further questions or comments?"

Fulton nods as he listens to Isabeau stating Paris' position in this meeting, but he remains quiet.

Lysander has been keeping quiet all through the meeting, and he keeps that up, as he listens to what's being said now.

Timon is eating pretty much every cookie that Isabeau so kindly made available for this meeting. His participation is not what you'd call constructive. Or participatory.

"Yes." Nicholas speaks up again, raising his chin. "Is there a proposed time frame for all this? And is there a central body going to be responsible for handling all these votes in some kind of accountable manner?"

"He has made his position clear," Adele agrees, "but he has not proposed any real alternative. I am inclined to agree with Mr. Holloway's reasoned arguments and suggestions."

James clears his throat quietly, raising his hand almost apologetically. "While it is a minor point, I would like to make quite clear from the very outset that it is a /council/, and not a /government/ which is being proposed. The term 'government' carries with it certain legalities, certain requirements, which I do not believe we are able to meet. I apologize for the semantics."

Greje is in that awkward position of not being able to determine whether Isabeau's closing the meeting or simply moving onto a new point of business— and as such not sure whether she should speak up now or wait. Fortunately Nicholas has a question on the current topic, giving her further time to determine what the case is. She looks to Isabeau with a sort of procedural distress.

"You sure about all that, Ms. Aragon? Got it all straight?" Is he willing to incite, to provoke, and to leap upon a moment of perceived misstep? Sure is. Paris, though increasingly less verbose, continues to take his shots where he can. "Wanna clarify those 'jurisdictional' limits? We hand out food, they keep all the FTL, the ship defenses, the jump coord control, everything essential and meaningful, yeah?" The last just draws a smirk. "I'm sorry my desire to make sure people who've -long- been denied voices by people like you now get one is 'obstructionist'." And again, Nick scores one, and the cargo jock chimes in. "Yeah - who's going to be running these elections? Caprican lawyers and military officers?"

"Make an alternate suggestion," Adele suggests, her voice growing firm as she swivels her head to regard Paris. "Instead of merely speculating. Please, it will do everyone good."

Nicholas looks quite calm in asking that, his hands returning to their laced position atop the knee of his crossed legs. No ruffling for someone dressed this neatly.

Fulton has fallen into a quiet, easy silence, looking at his clipboard, then back up as if waiting for something specific.

The only sound coming from Timon is chewing. But it's fairly loud chewing.

Isabeau slips Adele a quick smile, then turns to Nicholas, "It will take some time to complete the documentation delineating procedures, Mr. Luma. Once those are described adequately and approved, an election will be called. If I were to guess, I would say that the election could be called as soon as one month from now, but that is not a firm timeframe. The criterion for candidacy will be published and candidates will be asked to step forward. They will be given a limited timeframe in which to apprise their constituents of their stand on the issues important to the citizens in their districts. The election will be held in polling places set up in various places in each ship. At the end of the polling period, the ballots will be counted and verified by individuals selected by my office. Their backgrounds will be checked and the results verified. Everything will be conducted publicly." Looking back to Paris, she ignores the first, but speaks to the last first, "Obstructionist behavior, sir, is that which systematically blocks or interrupts a process, especially one who attempts to impede passage of legislation by the use of delaying tactics, such as a filibuster or heckling. Were you also willing to offer suggestions to improve the process, the usefulness of your comments would be greatly enhanced. As to jurisdiction… The civilian authority will have control over civilian matters. The military over military matters. The only exception will be during a battle when the Commander becomes the supreme authority, in the interests of fleet and civilian safety."

Sasha looks like he's currently debating between a cigarette, one of those cookies Timon's got his hands on, or chiming in with Paris about ruling cliques. Cookies win, and he slides out of his seat to go and fetch one discreetly.

Paris looks back and forth a bit, to see if anyone is talking. He's certainly no politician, so, indeed, he's probably better at heckling than he is at mapping out complex ideas of governance. Still, some of the questions asked are not so complicated, and when 'challenged', in a sense, by Adele, and by Isabeau in turn, his pride pushes him to speak. "It's not rocket science. Elections conducted, counted, everything in public. Nothing secret." As the woman 'in charge' starts speaking, he gets riled up immediately. "By your office? Why the frak should anyone trust that? You better mean by 'em out where we can watch, because I trust you about as much as I trust a toaster getting in my bunk with me." He has odd humor. "Obstructionist my ass. You want public discussion, or you want to lecture us like the CO handing out orders? Frak off." The latter point he adds more or less in purely constructive fashion, or at least as close as he can get: "Also, if we're goin' ahead with that rough idea from earlier, I want to object to a simple majority in the counsel removing a member. That makes it a ruling clique of 7 - they could just boot out every single electee after that they didn't like. Public recall is fine, but that other business sounds like a nice way to make sure you can boot trash like me off it if, lords help us, someone like me actually ended up in that 'illustrious' body."

Fulton listens to Paris, and lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. He seems to be relatively settled at the moment, "Okay, so now he just makes minor ticking points. Okay." He scribbles a few notes.

Greje settles back against the back of her chair as discussion heads into the topic of voting procedures, which she seems to find interesting, but has nothing constructive to contribute to the discussion. She watches Paris with a quiet curiosity.

Lysander listens quietly, shaking his head, or nodding, at different points during what's being said. He doesn't offer anything, though.

Timon looks between Paris and Isabeau, from his chosen place at the refreshment stand. He's nearly gone through all the cookies now. Which makes him frown mournfully. "I need a drink…" he mutters.

Isabeau sighs a little, "Public discussion is the point, yes. Until it ceases to bring anything new to the table." She does listen, however, even ignoring the part where he speaks so eloquently about his trust in her. Her reactions to it, however, are kept internalized. Outwardly, she remains genial and focused. When he gets to something useful, she jots a note, though sidles Fulton a silent sparkle. Her gaze turns to the others. Greje. Adele. James. Nicholas. Sasha hunting Timon's cookies. Timon admitting that cookies make one dry if too many are consumed. Lysander and the now silent Reighner. "Very good. I shall compile these suggestions. A committee will be formed by my office to iron out the final details which will be presented for discussion. Before I close this meeting is there anything else that anyone wishes to address?"

"Background checks?" Nicholas smiles a little. "We haven't exactly got our old records of criminal history or anything. Not to be sarcastic, but if you want to claim they're background checked, you're going to need a way to back that up." Devil's in the details, and a businessman is unfortunately full of them. "But anyway. If you're really interested in other minutiae I'll send you over a list or something." He glances at Timon and smiles.

Ah. There's the sort of statement that Greje was waiting for. And yet all she can manage for the moment is to lift two fingers for Isabeau's attention and make a noise halfway between a cleared throat and an 'hm.' Waiting, nervously, to be recognized. Perhaps a little terrified of having Paris bite her if she says anything.

Cookie in hand, the blonde kid in the dubiously-acquired fatigues jacket retreats to the back of the courtroom, and lounges there indolently while things get wrapped up. Still refraining from leaping into the fray with his own opinions, he watches Isabeau quietly for her response to Nicholas.

Timon eyes Sasha as he gets a cookie. As if possessive of them. But he doesn't attempt to bite the kid's hand.

Fulton looks to Nicholas, and nods, flipping up some papers on his clipboard.

Isabeau nods to Nicholas, "Oh, I realize. We can pull what records we have. If it is deemed appropriate, we can establish informational exchanges with the MP's office. That would need to be discussed and vetted publicly, I imagine." She nods, "Please do, Mr. Luma. It would be greatly appreciated." Turning to the crowd, she nods to Greje, "Ma'am?" Sasha's importuning of Timon's cookie is noted and would be encouraged.

"Hah," comments Paris at Nicholas' suggestion. "Trying to get me kicked out of politics already?" It's probably a good thing the criminal records are gone, as Mr. Heckler is also Mr. Suspicious. "Committee, eh?" He looks up at Isabeau suspiciously, although it seems, over time, that fire for obstruction has returned to its starting value. Now he needs a drink. "Sounds like they're finishing up with their little show and dance. Think I might go to the club and get a drink." This is said to Nick personally, at a lower tone.

"Like a criminal record," Nicholas comments, drily, "Has ever kept anyone out of politics."

Nicholas also gives Paris a nod, as to his where-he's-going-nows. He'll no doubt be along.

Timon tries to nibble up as much free food as he can, of what little remains, but that's as far as his remaining interest extends.

Speaking of songs and dances, Sasha's checking his watch briefly in between bites of cookie. Then stuffing the remainder in his mouth and letting himself out discreetly. Isabeau's given a long look before he departs.

And this would be Greje Karthasi, after three days' vigil and three hours' sleep, standing to address she room. To her credit, she doesn't fall down, though she has to help herself up with a hand on the back of the chair, which ill-thought-out posture leaves her briefly wobbly. "Umhm!" Greje coughs, trying to get the blood back to her brain, "For for those of you whom I've not met— I'm Sister Karthasi, head of the Ecclesiastical Department on Genesis," she introduces herself after a shaky start. "I have been in discussions with the Commander and he's given me permission to sanctify a temple or sanctuary precinct on board the Carina— if— of course— there's desire for such a consecration," she adds. "I came to suggest that an area of the Carina be consecrated as a Sanctuary of Zeus," she adds, "Zeus' Sanctuaries have historically provided another facet of public and judicial life," okay, now she's on something she memorized to say before coming over, "They have provided religious sanctuary to those who find themselves under unjust political and judicial persecution. They have given public opinion and tempers time to cool in the midst of heated situations. They have also offered platforms for public officials to swear the most sacred oaths, of which many even of the less religiously minded of humanity are afraid to perjure themselves due to the public backlash that ensues from breaking those oaths," she goes on, explaining why she's bringing this up as a matter in a forum for determining civilian government. "Of course— I want most of all to tend to the specific needs of this community. Between myself and Brother Karan we're capable of sanctifying a temple or altar to any of the Lords of Kobol. Or if there's no desire for a sacred space on the Carina, we'll respect those wishes. I put it to the public to decide how we can best serve them. I've given my suggestion for consideration," she finishes sort of awkwardly.

Isabeau folds her hands on the podium before her and listens attentively while the Sister speaks. When the exhausted woman has finished, she turns to the crowd. "What say you?"

Fulton listens thoughtfully and nods to the proposal from the Priestess. He doesn't speak, though idly looking to Paris to see if he's going to continue his trend in this venue.

Nicholas brushes his hand over the top of his crossed knee. "What is one going to say? 'No, keep that dirty religion off the ship'?" He settles his hand on his leg again. "Can we really make that sort of call, anyway…I mean, isn't this a matter to be taken up with the civilian religious authorities?"

Adele glances around slowly, her expression neutral.

Rabble rabble rabble! No, really, Paris doesn't have much bad to say to the Priestess, or about her idea. "I got no problem with it," he murmurs, although he doesn't make the statement in the same way as those previous addresses to the gathering. Indeed, he's reverted to the mode he seemed to arrive in, quiet and a bit surly. Hah, all of that opinioned argument prior and now… she gets this.

Greje looks to Nicholas, "You can say that, if you'd like. I know not everyone is religiously inclined, and the voices of those who don't believe are equal to the voices of those who do," she points out. "The only civilian anointed with the fleet are Sister Amphito and Brother Hollen on the Destiny. The Pythian council, which would typically give the OK for the sanctifying of a precinct, is no longer extant, having been convened at Delphi at the time of the attacks. I am anointed in the Pythian rites, as is Brother Karan anointed to interpret the Pythian voice, which— gives us the greatest extant authority over this topic, from a religious perspective. But, as I said before, we want to serve the public as the public needs, not force our own religious preferences upon the Carina."

Isabeau addresses Nicholas, "I believe, sir, that the problem is that a civilian religious authority has not yet been determined. Therefore, it is up to the civilians whether a religious entity should be allowed to concecrate a location on the Carina." She nods to Greje and lets the Priestess make her own clarifications. "We can put it to a vote, Sister, though it may take some time to get replies from everyone. It would make a good test of the process, actually. To make sure everything works as it should."

Timon idly brushes some crumbs off his bathrobe, head tilted to listen to Greje as she speaks of a temple. He actually looks interested.

"I don't particularly feel I have the right to decide as a Pythian council would," Nicholas states. "I am certainly not anointed in their rites, myself. But as the priestess has stated, there are civilian priests, who I would trust to know these things." He still sounds hesitant about being made to vote on a religious issue.

Greje looks back to Isabeau, "If there are those who wish to be trained and anointed in the Pythian rites, we could endeavor to form a new Pythian council to determine these matters, but the process could be… a lengthy one, depending on the prior religious training of the person in question," she adds. To Nicholas, "Sister Amphito is anointed of Aphrodite and Poseidon, Brother Hollen of Aphrodite and Aurora. It is Pythian Apollo in whose authority lies the establishment of new precincts," she points out.

Fulton flips the clipboard papers closed, rising, "Well, I don't think there's any religious personas on the Carina at all, there's a Temple on the Destiny, and that's it." He shrugs, "I say go for it, but unfortunately, I'm pretty much out of time to dedicate to this." He nods to Isabeau, "Good luck with the remainder of the meeting." He then starts to leave.

"So you're saying," Nicholas tilts his head slightly. "That you wouldn't trust Sister Amphito and Brother Hollen, but you would trust an entire shipful who probably haven't touched anointing with a ten foot pole? I mean, I shall vote if I have to, but I would readily trust that those that have dedicated their lives to the gods wished to provide a place for worship that they wouldn't have to divide believers and non-believers by making us vote."

You say, "Thank you for coming, Mr. Fulton." Turning back to Greje, "Why don't you invite Sister Amphito and Brother Hollen to the Carina? I am sure that between you, you can make the proper arrangements, Sister. If you are concerned about the legalities of acquiring the property, I recommend speaking to Mr. Holloway. He is a property lawyer and well versed in the subject.""

"There's a difference," Greje replies to Nicholas, then goes about trying to articulate it. "I'm not asking religious assent to the construction of a precinct. If you want us to make the decision based entirely upon religious authority, Brother Karan and I will perform the Pythian rites together and we will ask the God what precinct to sanctify and where. We can do that, if you'd all prefer, but it's more typical for the precinct to be serving a need expressed by the community, and the Pythian rites administered simply to confirm that the consecration would not, for unknown or obscure reasons, be an act of impiety."

Paris straightens up now, and stretches out. Sitting for a long time makes one achy. Though he seemed to want to hear what the priestess had to say, his tolerance for the meeting has apparently run thin. Twisting one way and the other, he glances to Nicholas once more, before scooting his way out the row of chairs.

Property lawyer? Oho. Nicholas turns a bit, glancing back at James with renewed interest, then he looks back at the priestess. "Well I happen to think that if even one person feels the need for such a thing, then it's justified. Those who don't feel they need it don't have to go. I will respectfully abstain and stop running roughshod over Ms. Aragon." He smiles at Isabeau and gives Paris a small wave.

Isabeau inhales as the discussion seems to be fading. "Sister. I think that it would be safe to say that the citizens of the Carina would welcome a place of sanctuary. I believe that, in time to come, the vows you spoke of will be helpful to the new government. And as has been stated, those who do not wish to participate, do not have to. I think you could probably proceed."

Greje nods her head gently. 'Fading' would be about the right word to describe her, as well. "Alright," she agrees. "I… pardon me, I should contact Mr. Holloway as to finding an appropriate place to establish the sanctuary?" She looks around for someone who might be this fabled person.

Nicholas lightly closes his eyes, gently rubbing his ring finger over one dark blond brow.

Isabeau smiles at Greje, "If you will leave me your contact information, Sister, I will see to it that Mr. Holloway receives it." She looks around once more, "If there is nothing else?" She does give the room a chance to speak up and when there is only tired shuffling and the occasional embarrassed cough, she nods, "In that case… Thank you all for taking the time to attend. This meeting is adjourned." Gathering her notes, she turns off the mic on the podium and steps toward the door to her office.

Adele stands, dipping her head to Isabeau. "Thank you for holding it," she replies, before filing out with the rest of them.

Timon prepares to shuffle out though, before he wanders off, he detours toward Greje. "Pardon me, Sister. Do you have a moment?" His tone is less lazy than it was the few times he spoke during the meeting. Perhaps the chamalla's wearing off. Alas.

Nicholas stands up and slips out, himself. Lots of notes to prepare to pile onto poor Isabeau's head.
Nicholas leaves for Housing Area [O].

Greje made it. Juuuust barely. She sits back down in relief, her head drooping and then rising again quickly as she's addressed, "Ye-hm-wha? Oh. Yes. Yes, I'm sorry… it's been a long few days…" she explains meekly. "How can I serve you?"

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