Communion
Communion
Summary: The XO orders Astyoche freed. Serious words are exchanged over an unconsumed dinner. Honors are rendered.
Date: 33 ACH
Related Logs: None.
Players:
Fotilas..Astyoche..Snatch..

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Mess Hall Genesis - Deck 9
33 ACH 6285 Souls


The Mess Hall on the Genesis is quite large and able to hold over 300 personnel at a time. Tables are staggered in some areas and set against the wall in others. The mess hall begins near the hatch with an area for trays and silverware, then moves through the line for the cooks to dish up whatever is on the menu for the day. There are also snack machines at the end of the line, past the huge coffee urns and water dispensers.
-----< Condition Three - Public Area >----
Contents: Astyoche Fotilas Wireless 1498

Exits: [O] Corridor

Special: +lhelp - Local Help Available
-=============================================================================-

Her armed entourage in tow, Astyoche enters the Mess clad in, well, something she hasn't been clad in for… we'll call it 'some time'. Her eyes wander some as she walks, the surreal conditions of her non-execution continuing in her attire. Maybe a joke, perhaps not, she bears it with a relative grace, as it beats that godsfraksaken jumpsuit she was stuck in. Barring a mascot costume of a pink Cylon rabbit, anything would beat the frakkin' jumpsuit.

Fotilas isn't long in following her in. He's probably been hunting the prisoner. Seeing her moving about he heads over towards her. "Kyrios," he says quietly when he approaches. "Grab some grub. We're on further rations so nothing decent for anyone. Meet me over there." He nods towards a table off by itself as he moves off towards the coffee urn.

Astyoche looks back as the Colonel makes himself known. She nods, "Yes, sir." is her reply, and in short order, the relatively ex-prisoner assails the grub. She retrieves the utter minimum essentials, even rocking a cup of water to leave the caffeine and high-carbs for the actives to stay functional. She pads toward the table at not quite a trot, her body revelling in it's relative release, despite her otherwise reserved demeanor

The Colonel takes his sweet time, as if indicating she can do the same. But seeing she only gets water, he grabs another cup for her and heads over to the table. "Sorry, this crap they pass off as coffee is pretty pathetic. But I figure its still better than water." He sets the two mugs down and he plops down in the seat across from her. "So, Kyrios. I'm not making a mistake by getting your ass out of the brig, am I?" He looks her in the eye over the brim of his mug as he sips.

The XO is sitting off in a secluded corner of the Mess with Astyoche. Asty is wearing a bathrobe and is being escorted by tow large MP's who look rather disgruntled. Likewise, the XO is looking rather serious. They're keeping their conversation low.

There is a shake of her head, "You've been much better by me than I'm entitled, Colonel." Asty replies solemnly. Her hands take a moment to heft her utensiles, which naturally gets a twitch out of the MP's, but she starts to make little adjustments to her foodstuffs, probably to keep her hands busy for a moment as she continues, "If I was going to dodge, I would have lied by now, sir."

A brief encounter with the laundry room and Snatch's sweatpants are dry again. Or they were before she put them on. Now they're quite damp, and, moreover, all other signs point to the Enginesnipe being straight out of the swimming hole. She huddles in her sweatshirt, which is sticking to her back from the damp of her hair, and goes to scrounge the mess for some sort of snack.

"The way I see it, you're earning your way. You've been behaving better than some of our people outside of the brig. But then again, they also don't have your history." Fotils isn't pulling any punches. "But I didn't want to join you for dinner so that I could give you hell. I did want to tell you, though, that your case is going to the JAG tomorrow. I have already spoken to the convening authorities on your behalf. But.." He levels a very serious gaze at her and whispers something very low.

Fotilas whispers: I need to know that you won't go coming after myself or senior leadership if you are stayed. Where is our insurance, Miss Kyrios?

The woman straightens slightly, looking just a little insulted, perhaps for a moment, then she lowers her eyes and nods, "Colonel, I understand your position." She sets the utensiles down and pushes the tray aside to lace her fingers on the table, and meets his eyes, "All I have is my word, sir. I have no friends. No family. My service record was clear, but I've got the impression you couldn't retrieve it, or Sgt Browne would have known my past postings when she questions me." she says softly.

Colonel Fotilas eyes her carefully at the words. His eyes don't leave hers. "True. And I'm glad to hear you say that. Lesser fools try to promise actions they don't have or buy their salvation with wasted breath about promised wealth or favors." Fotilas sips at his mug once more, studying. "Relax. Eat. I'm not here to lecture on that account, only fact-find. Besides.. You might have more left than you think, Miss Kyrios. Seems we have a Viper Captain who knows you from back in the day. Goes by the callsign 'Fender.' Know her?"

Snatch finds leftovers amidst all her scrounging, still being kept warm, too, by some miracle, if rather crusted over by now. She doesn't mind, but indiscriminately shovels herself a plate. Swimming'll give you an appetite. She barely bothers worrying about a place to sit, since the place isn't that full, but busies herself stuffing her face as she saunters and drips. Hey, is that the XO? And someone. And burly MPs. Now her attention's about equally divided. But she keeps her distance.

Astyoche furrows a brow at the name and gets an introspective look in her eye for a bit, "I know that callsign…" she muses softly, oblivious to the swimmer's torn scrutiny. A hand lifts to scratch the back of her head, "Wasn't anyone in the 62nd… Wait. The face isn't coming to me but… I was assigned to a camp for afterburner-happy nuggets. There were only a few women there, think she was one of them." Pause, "She's a Captain, now?"

Fotilas doesn't even blink. He just lifts the coffee, sipping for a moment. He glances to Snatch and gives her a terse nod. It says 'You aren't hearing us' in the most stern ways while remembering her face. But he looks back to Astyoche. "She might be. If its the same one. I'm afraid I'll need a name or details to go with the callsign before I can go confirming anything." The mug is replaced on the table. "You mentioned duties, Miss Kyrios. Are you looking for something to do in the meantime while we figure you out?"

Snatch has likely as anything never seen the XO from fewer than fifty feet away or with fewer than twenty people between the two of them, so she's more gawking at him than random person she doesn't know. He turns to nod at her and she readies up her best 'ready to serve' naval posture and a genuine, if a little awe-struck, smile to match. She even lowers her plate to about waist level. But his nod is sending her sternly unvoiced messages, and her smile fades. She scrapes the caked fake cheese from the bottom of her plate and looks toward the far wall as she licks her fork helplessly on both sides, wandering even further away than she already is and bussing the plate and utensil.

"I'll earn my keep, Colonel, where you think I can be useful." Aky replies quietly, glancing to her side as she notes him do so, then twists in her seat to look over toward the observer. A weak smile and nod follow, and her attention returns quickly to the Colonel with the glint of inspiration in her eye, "Nikos!" she says with a snap of her fingers, "About my age, Scorpian."

"Petty Officer," the XO calls. "Humble apologies. I don't mean to frighten." Okay, maybe he does but c'mon.. "Just use your discretion about the things you hear from this table, aye? No reason to bus yourself out of here and rush a meal." Fotilas nods to her before looking back to Astyoche. "Talk to Sergeant Browne. Get her permission. Then speak to our CAG. You used to fly Vipers? No reason to put you anyplace else like Engineering." To her last, the man chuckles. "Correct, Miss Kyrios. Captain Addison Nikos is our Viper Squadron Commander. Should I tell her you'd like to see her or leave it be until you hear back from JAG?" It may not be the most 'fun' or upbeat question, but it bears relevence.

Astyoche smiles a little bit, "A vaguely familiar face, anyway." she muses softly, then, "it would be nice to see someone I knew from before, sir, thank you." About the rest, "I think I could have pegged the CAG spot on the Nike if I put more time in, Colonel. As it was, I was a wing leader for the better part of my tour." She ponders the matter some, then, "If nothing else, I can help with the fuelling or loading, sir."

Snatch sets the plate down quietly in the bussing bin almost at the same time the XO… actually… talks to her. Eek. She lets the plate sit, and the fork makes a soft noise getting set down on top of it, and she turns her head slowly but… not too slowly. Just taking enough time to rehearse her line in her head and make sure she doesn't frak it up when she calls, "Ou-ais, Colonel, Sir!" in her best military voice. It doesn't get a lot of practice, since the Cap'm doesn't run that sort of shop down in Engineering. She gives him another smile, since he's offering amends, and another, brief one to his dinner-guest and her guards, and then manages to head out to the hallway with a pace neither marching nor fleeing. Just a quick snack before bed.

"Carry on, Petty Officer." The Colonel watches Snatch make her way out with an easy smile that might, at first glance, seem unnatural to his face. But a closer look reveals that maybe this was once a trademark to his mug with its practiced lines and relaxed set. But the gaze returns to Astyoche. "Fair enough. I'll pass it on to her." The man dips his head and reaches for the mug once more. "A lofty goal, Kyrios. And a not-simple acheivement. Well I can talk to Major Rue if you'd like. But if things don't go the desired route, it may only be for a few days. Still something you'd like to pursue?"

Astyoche glances after the departing woman with a soft, "Night!" before turning her attention back to Fotilas, "I didn't mean to presume, sir, I thought you were leading me to the flight deck when you asked about the Vipers."

"I'm leading you towards however you may want to spend your last days. All I can do is present options. However, if you've fallen to favor with the Gods.. And for what its worth, I hope you have.. Maybe there will be a place for you here. Maybe." Fotilas measures her again for a few moments. "Lieutenant Sloan, our psych, is going to be speaking with you. Marine S2 has his own reasons. I personally intend to have the good doctor decide if she thinks you are salvable as an officer." A pause while he sips his coffee. "Think you've still got the gumption after your affair with the darker side?"

"I've been… worried about that since my talk with the El Tee, sir." the woman replies quietly, "I knowingly murdered a man with family… I made them hurt, because he made us hurt." her eyes lower, "I don't… think I deserve the second chance, but I can't… sit by and let what's left of us get wiped out without helping…" Her frame sags and she exhales, "Even If it comes down to… If command decides my time is up, have the docs take what they can… blood, heart… whatever they need to keep you going. I can't go to our ancestors…. mooching off the last of us. Anything I can do to help, Colonel." And her eyes look imporingly into his, "Please."

The Colonel does his best to look unphased. See, when you get to be XO.. some looks you need to have down: Stoich and Neutral. Normally they work. But this time they don't. He was looking her in the eyes until she finishes. The drop to the mug in front of him. He tries to hide it behind some odd twisting smirk but that just falls away as well. Frak. "Very few of us are angels, Kyrios. But what I told the crew after we learned of the attack.. I said that we had been given the solemn honor of fighting for the memories of those lost. We may not deserve it, but that's what the Gods have dealt us." He looks up to her again. "I'll pass everything along. I'll have the MP's provide you with a paper and pen to make out a Will. I'll personally see it is carried out." A pause. "If we can't save you." He's trying.

Astyoche struggles to force a smile, grateful, albeit grim, as something rolls down her cheek, but she nods, "It would have been an honor fighting under you, Colonel." She slowly extends her hand to him, "Either way… thank you, sir." she says in a whisper thick with emotion, "For everything."

The Colonel extends a hand to hers and grasps it a long moment before shaking it. "Never say die, Kyrios. Apart from the act of what you did, I will say the same of you. But who knows. Maybe you still will. Maybe not." The hand drops. "I do what I can. You deserve honesty and respect. This should have been resolved weeks ago though. I can't tell you how sorry I am that we had to keep you in that frakking cage." He's doing his best to keep the emotion out as well.

Her grip is firm, befitting a soldier, despite the intervening years of civilian life, wrassling an old Viper though high G atmospheric maneuvers helps keeps it together, but with a quiet firmness, "Don't, sir. I was chained in a Raptor, sitting in my own filth. You know my background, and you've directed resources to my welfare, rather than simply space me. At the least, you're giving me the chance to die as a human being." Her head shakes slowly, "I won't… accept an unfounded apology, sir. The truth of it is, I don't have words enough to thank you."

"A human being still deserves to be treated with the respect and dignity they show to the world around them. I won't cheapen this and say that I would do it for anyone. It would also be a lie." He meets her gaze, the man's hard facade finally breaking away. "You're a tribute to your CAG and the officers you've served under, Kyrios. Since you've come aboard, your attitude and professionalism has been unquestionable. Despite some of the absolute worst circustances in history." Fotilas pauses for a moment. "Thank the people above you who made you into the Officer I know you still are." The man finally rises from his seat at the table. "I'll be by tomorrow to speak with you as soon as I can. I'll be praying for you."

Astyoche's eyes issue forth their glittering foci of emotion as a strangled sound passes her lips and she nods. It may not be proper, she may even get figuratively spanked for it, but gods-damnit-! The woman rises smartly to attention, her jaw tight and her lips pressed into a near-colorless line as her hand whips to her brow in a respectful, if perhaps unlawful, salute with a simple, "Sir!"

Fotilas faces her, straight away and throws her a perfect salute. One a Marine would be proud to claim. "As you were, Kyrios." The salute drops with a slow precision. When it reaches his side, he nods and steps off to his quarters.

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