Lost Boys - Discussions From The Rear
Lost Boys - Discussions From the Rear
Summary: JAG and the MPs sift through the Peerless aftermath.
Date: 123 ACH
Related Logs: Lost Boys logs, in particular The Confederate

JAG Office Genesis - Deck 11
123 ACH 24277 Souls

The office of the Judge Advocate General is a normal office room in appearance, with a pair of desks and a bookshelf in one corner containing legal texts and reference materials. Each desk has a computer terminal on it and built in set of drawers. Across from each desk is a pair of chairs for interviewees to be seated. Also along part of the back wall are a row of grey, metal filing cabinets.

Drusilla Oliveira is sitting at her desk. It is a pristine affair bearing no clutter, little trace or evidence that she actually does any work there. Everything is set in its place: a container of pens, all perfectly arranged equidistant of one another, a paperweight that currently serves no other purpose than decoration, and at present one of those kinetic ball novelties. The chrome orbs rocked back and forth, ticking rythmically, click-click-click-click. The woman herself sits contemplating, her fingers interlocked beneath her chin.

There's a pair of knocks on the hatch.

Her thought interrupted, Drusilla's eyes move upward and focus on the door afore her. "Enter." she shouts. First the Fleet XO, she wonders who would be seeking her now.

Shem pushes the hatch open. He seems vaguely displeased to be here, bad memories from past experience. "Sir." He pushes the hatch closed and approaches her desk. The lieutenant salutes crisply.

An eyebrow cocks as the visage of Lt. Shem enters her view. Drusilla arises from her seat and graces the man with a pleasant smile. "Lieutenant." she greets him, her voice firm yet inviting. "How fortuitous, I was just thinking about you." She does not return the salute. No, instead she leans forward over the desk and offers the man her hand to shake. "I had Colonel Reed in here earlier this evening inquiring about the Peerless incident. All very casual though he told me that he'd spoken to you and the Sherrif, I suspect it may have been a subtle jab to get us moving."

Shem glances down at the hand, using the time to figure out if he can excuse it as a matter of protocol. He doesn't leave her hanging too long, though, and he does shake her hand. "Yes, sir," he replies, mildly. "How much information do you already know?"

Drusilla seems to take no offense at Shem's delay. She seems, in fact, quite laid back in contrast to her reputation for severity. She gestures to the chair across from her own. "Please, sit, lieutenant." she tells him as she starts to do likewise. She leans back in her chair, her hands coming back up to interlock with one another. "Very little pertinent, I am afraid. I was up in the brig last night helping some of your people with the paperwork in processing the penal population; however, I've yet to read the official report of the MP's findings." She looks pointedly to Shem, her lips curling in a soft smirk. "I was rather hoping you might fill me in there. But first, what order of business brings you to my office today?"

"Very same, sir," Shem answers back as he sits. "I've finished debriefing the Marines involved, and I can pretty well put together what happened. A chemist by the name of Etakkana Gosling claimed to have been forced to supply the prisoners with recreational drugs. She offered to poison the drugs, and the Marine commander on site agreed, telling her to target the leadership and not the innocents. Seems that she instead went and gave it to two-thirds of the population."

Drusilla cocks her head to the side. "You said Miss Gosling 'claimed' coersion." she states, picking up on the ambiguity. "You have evidence of her complicity or that she willingly or intentionally committed mass murder?"

"I say claimed because I haven't interviewed her, sir," Shem answers, tonelessly.

The lady lawyer nods, though her thoughts were preoccupied with analysing this information, working it into her base of accumulated knowlege of the situation. "I understand. Gosling…" Her grey eyes narrows, flicks up to Shem in curiosity. "Isn't that the name of the Peerless' CMO?"

"Very same, sir," Shem answers, using the same response in a different context.

She exhals sharply from her nose. "Good." Drusilla exclaims grimly as she looks away to a blank point in space. "Better to keep this in house without having to involve civilian authorities. Far less complicated that way." Looking back to Shem, she inquires, "So what can I do for you specifically, Lieutenant?"

Shem seems taken aback by the question. He clears his throat. "Well, there is the question of six hundred dead, sir. And also the three hundred living wards of the state we have in the brig and the remaining Peerless crew."

"Yesss." She extends the sound of the sylibant for a spell. "The six hundred dead are an issue. As to the penal population, they should be easy enough to deal with depending on the specifics of their sentence." She raises an eyebrow. "Please tell me that we've recovered the population records. What with the confusion of who's who that will go along way in sorting out the identity question we're dealing with and allow me to determine just what we're supposed to do with these people. Best case scenario, the Commander can appoint a warden and we'll leave the lot for Colonial Corrections to deal with."

Shem shakes his head. "No, sir, we recovered no records on the prisoners. It seems that the Colonial government was using this as an experiment. They dumped them onto this planet with some materials, no indication that they set down guards or built any structures."

Drusilla makes her hand into a fist. Damn. Another sharp exhale, though this time it is one of mild frustration, disappointment. "A pity." she says, "That means we'll have to resort to good old fashioned detective work to sort things out." She estimates how long the process would have taken in her head and then triples it to achieve a more realistic idea of how long the process would take. "Needless to say this office is at your disposal, Lieutenant. Personnel, supplies, whatever you require to sort out who's whom and get us through this quagmire." She pauses a moment in thought. "I would be surprised if we did not have to lose some good people and issue a blanket decree to deal with the lot of them. What about the Peerless records? Can we at least rule out who -isn't- a prisoner if not vise versa?"

"Yes, sir," Shem confirms. "We have pictures of all the Peerless crew, and they've been segregated to the officer's brig until the matter of the six hundred can be sorted out." He takes a deep breath. "But this thing with the prisoners. Doesn't it qualify as cruel and unusual? What the government did to them?"

The woman nods her head. "Very good, very good." That was half the job right there. Suddenly her evening is starting to look that much brighter. She clings to the promise of fewer papers to clutter her pristine desk. The second part of Shem's statement catches her attention, though. She raises an eyebrow and gazes upon the man appraisingly. "An academic distinction at this point." she replies, "And one for a court of appeals, which in our case basically amounts to appealing either directly to the Commander or civil authorities. It's still very rough terrain given out lack of institutional resources." He has a point, though. One that ought to be addressed. "Our primary concern is how we deal with the prisoners now, not what may have been done to them in the past. I am satisfied that their rights have not been violated upon their arrival to the Genesis, unless you have information to the contrary for which I am unaware of."

Shem shrugs. "That's out of my paygrade, sir. All I know is that I had to waive population and detainment limits on the brig so that everybody had a room. They're ten-up to a cell meant for two."

Drusilla taps her fingers against the table in thought, her eyes unfocused and staring into a blank point of space. "What about temporary holding areas?" she inquires. "We can talk to logistics about requisitioning cargo space and convering it for provisional habitability. Move the Peerless crew first and then distribute the some of the prisoners to the Officer's brig. Then start doing the same with the prisoners as we process them and determine their volitility." She looks back to Shem. "Problematic without records, of course, but not knowing what these people did I would rather not be letting these people amidst the public because some civilian attorney wants to make a name for themselves. Is it doable, Lieutenant?"

Shem's lips draw into a thin line. "Sir, at this point, I can almost guarantee that we won't get any specific information on these prisoners," he replies, carefully. "We have some serious realities on the ground that we need to consider before trying to wish them away with nonexistant tools."

"I don't expect to." Drusilla says, unconcerned. "But we can begin to catalogue new dossiers for the lot of them. In these conditions I expect the troublemakers will make themselves apparent readily enough, the remainder we can deal with in due time." She taps her fingers against the desk again, once more lost in her own thoughts. Abruptly she returns her attention to Shem, as if remembering suddenly that he was still in the room. "Realities. Yes. What have we to deal with first?"

Shem furrows his eyebrows. "Yes, sir," he says, adopting a distinctly tolerant tone. He clears his throat. "The first is to clear Miss Gosling and Ensign Ramiro of responsibility in this problem. I don't think a crime has occured, but both of us need to agree on that. If we do, I can go ahead and see to releasing the Peerless crew. The second is to figure out what to do with the prisoners. They were all found guilty by our system of whatever crimes bad enough to justify putting them onto this rock. I don't want to end up having to guard three hundred for the rest of time, and I wouldn't wish them onto the civilian system, however built up that is."

Drusilla nods her head, switching gears for the monent to deal with culpability. "I am afraid six hundred deaths are not something we can simply set aside, whatever the extenuating circumstances. At the very least Ensign Ramiro can be found culpable of Section 892 and just by what you've said here we could tack on multiple counts of conspiracy to commit murder." She pauses, scratching her chin momentarily. "I don't wish to have a man tried for doing his job but I am concerned by the bounds by which he seems to have exceeded his authority. Tell me Lieutenant, what is your professional opinion of Ensign Ramiro's actions?"

Shem unconsciously draws his upper body straight, as if gearing for a fight. "Ensign Ramiro acted correctly, sir," he says, firmly. "Eighteen Marines against nine hundred, some armed, would've been suicide. He told Miss Gosling to disable command and not poison the innocents, and given the situation, trusting that she'd do it was the correct call."

Drusilla nods, letting the information soak into her head. "Privately, Lieutenant, I agree with you. There are times when convention has to be set aside to achieve the objective." she says, her voice soft, almost ephemereal. Raising her voice to conversational level, she continues more practically, "Arguing that from a legal standpoint is an entirely other matter, and exonerating Ensign Ramiro of culpability places it squarely on Miss—." She pauses, her own eyebrows furrowing in mild confusion. "Are there two Goslings? I was under the impression we were discussing a Colonial officer."

"No, sir," Shem replies. "I refer to Miss Gosling without rank because she obtained a brevet commission that hasn't been recognized by this command yet."

More tapping. The noise runs counter-synchronous with the kinetic cradle clacking away upon her desk. The novelty has almost worn out now, both in terms of remaining momentum as well as nerves. "I see." she says, nodding her head as the takes in the additional information, sifting it through her lawyer's literal mind. "Has a psych evaluation been completed on Miss Gosling?" It grates on her not to be able to afford the woman a rank, it wears on her personal sense of decorum. "I'll want to interview her, myself. Far too pivotal to this incident she is."

Shem replies, "No, sir. I'll request Miss Gosling be given the guest quarters and an evaluation. I'd also like to be present during the questioning."

Drusilla nods her concession to the request. "Of course." They are all on show here, not just Gosling. She and Shem both have to prove their ability to work together, to one another as well as to the higher ups. The lady lawyer leans back in her chair, interlocking her fingers before. "As far as Ensign Ramiro is concerned, I will not be making any recommendation until I have had an opportunity to interview Miss Gosling; however, I see no reason why any security measures need be taken on his account. As far as I'm concerned he's free to go about his duties until such time as we have more information to formulate a qualified response."

"Okay," Shem answers. "And the matter of housing, sir?"

"We are treading on legal precedent, Lieutenant." Drusilla says. "Consequently we may be called to take unprecedented actions. I will have to look more deeply into the matter; however, more like than not the ultimate fate of the prisoners will be decided by the Commander. I am sorry I can not give you a more quantative response." She pauses a moment to purse her lips into a thin line before continuing. "In the meantime I am afraid your soldiers will have to play guard a little longer. I will make a request for additional space to establish temporary living quarters aboard the Genesis and to allocating the requisite resources. Meanwhile I suggest you look into prioritising the prisoners by perceived volitility, that we may move the less aggressive inmates first." Her dull grey eyes bore squarely into Shem's own. "Acceptable, Lieutenant?"

Shem's own eyes, when pressed, give no quarter. "Very good, sir," he replies evenly. "That's all the points I can see. Did you have any, sir?"

"None." Drusilla says, a faint smirk betraying her satisfaction. The kinetic cradle winds down and now the silences that crops up between them are just that: pure, unadulterated silence. "Good luck, Lieutenant. Please do not hesitate to call upon me if anything should crop up that you feel might benefit of my attention. And— oh," almost an afterthought, "Miss Gosling's interview: would you like to arrange it or shall I have my office?"

"Do you want to do it after she's moved, sir?" Shem asks.

The lady lawyer waves her hand in a gesture of acquiesence. "That is fine." Drusilla says, "We can always move her back to less accomodating appointments if she proves an impediment to our investigation."

Shem nods. "I'll let you know, then." He puts his hands on the armrests, seemingly ready to depart. "By your leave, sir?"

She nods her head, the hand turning about to execute another such gesture. "Of course, Lieutenant." She casts the man a pleasant smirk, though it seems a little awkward as the rest of her features seem intent. "Thank you for your time."

Shem doesn't reciprocate, but instead nods. Seems his natural aversion continues. He stands, returns the salute, and walks away.

Drusilla does not waste much time. Even before Shem has left the office she's busy appropriating herself paper and pen by which to draft her request of the resources they had discussed.

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