|Solaris Memorial - Revelations|
|Summary:||the Solaris Memorial is more memorable than expected|
Roosters Nest (Obs Deck) Genesis - Deck 9
149 ACH 24438 Souls
The observation deck is at the fore of the ship. The viewport allows those who come here to relax and enjoy a little quiet time with opposite sex. When the ship is under Alert levels, the viewport has a steel shutter that automatically comes down over the viewport for protection of the glass. The seats here are single and double and set up like a theater. They are cushioned and some recline back for those quick naps.
-----< Condition Three - Public Area >----
Contents: Reed Wireless 1494
Exits: [O] Corridor
Special: +detail - Details available
Reed is all cleaned up in his Dress Grays, and is putting away his handheld computer, looking about as people start filing in.
Rhea came over from the Hera with Reed and is, likewise, waiting as the crowd gathers. Her own eyes are watching the viewport, on the stars and the other ships in the Fleet, expression thoughtful.
It's a few minutes after Reed and Rhea arrive that Pepper slips in, head bent as she straightens the cuff on her own dress gray uniform. As she moves, she glances around, as if looking for someone.
Reed looks to Rhea, and smiles slightly, "Ready to face the troops, Lt. Colonel?" He says quietly, still ribbing her lightly about the promotion.
Phelan enters quietly and stands at the back of the room against the wall near the door, watching quietly and not wanting to interrupt or disrupt anything going on. He looks about the room to see who's here already and who might be showing up after him.
Stepping in, and looking like he's instantly regretting in, Warwick looks around for a few moments, before he makes his way a bit to the side, keeping silent. Looking lost in thought.
Azad tenatively makes his way in with his arms tucked behind his back, periodically peering about the place. His expression is blank as he spies the faces gathered, some familiar, most not, and makes his way towards the nearest gathering of Enlisted personnel towards the back of the crowd and stands straight.
The LSO quietly walks in, looking as ever like the recruiting posters that all have seen from the Colonial Fleet. His Dress Grays are pressed to perfection, medals and commendations spot-on. Taking his place, his eyes look out the port, locking onto the forlorn visage of the Solaris… Too many losses… Too many.
Ahhh, there. Pepper spots who she was looking for and slips through the crowd toward Rhea and Reed, coming up behind them quietly. Once in place behind Rhea's shoulder, on the other side of the woman from Reed, Pep reaches out and lightly touches her elbow. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Colonel Zimmerman," she murmurs, voice kept low, quiet in deference to the occasion. There's a small, pleased smile on her lips.
'Evening' has come to the Fleet and once more, the members of the crew have been gathered for a memorial service, of sorts. Unlike past times, this one has been called within the Roosters Nest rather then in the hangar bay of the Battlestar. The ship has been turned so that the foreward part of the vessel is directed facing the disabled form of the Solaris and a small podium has been placed before the viewport, a podium on which Commander Salin Altair now stands behind. Clad in his dress greys, the man allows his hands to rest lightly against the sides of the podium, eyes surveying those that are present. It's with only the slightest of nods to the assembled that he begins to speak.
"We've gathered here this evening to pay our respects to a ship that has been lost in battle. To the men and woman of that ship, our comrades, who perished in the attack." Salin pauses for a moment so that the tip of his tongue can wet a sheen to his lips. "It has been a rough road to this point. We've all lost friends, colleagues, loved ones. But by that token, we've made made new friends. Made new colleagues and found new loved ones." Another pause is offered and the man half turns from the podium, one hand rising to gesture towards the Solaris that floats outside the viewport, "To the Battlestar Solaris, Battlestar Group 28, and to the men and woman that served aboard her. We honor your ultimate sacrifice. We will never forget that you gave your lives, so that others may live. We will never forget that during our most troubled times, when things seemed so very grim, you continued with your duty. Continued the task of protecting both those that you knew and those that you did not. And for this, we salute you." Salin allows his eyes to play over those that have gathered and after a moment, he begins to straighten. His voice lifts and with a sharp command, he's ordering. "Battlestar Genesis. Attention!" Then, almost slowly, he's turning towards the viewport and drawing himself to attention. "Weapons, fire Solaris Salvo One." Even as that is said, his arm snaps up in a salute.
Suddenly, the area outside the viewport is alight with weapons fire as the forward and side turrets and missile batteries open fire, sending forth streaming arcs of light that stop only when they connect with the already burned out hull of the Solaris. There, they mute in color for but a second before transforming into almost elegant explosions of orange and red. When the last of the explosions settles, the Solaris has been turned into nothing more then tiny pieces of space debris. Salin's arm lowers then and he's turning back to the assembled crowd, giving a nod of his head, "A fitting parting, for a ship that fell in battle." He lets the moment settle upon people as eyes begin to once more look over those that have assembled.
It's Drusilla. She has arrived. What more really need be said? Perhaps that she looked even more proud than usual, strutting as discreetly as was humanly possible in her dress uniform. She's scrounged it off of another officer, applied all the appropriate decorations herself as well as made the necessary alternations. Nevertheless, the final result was a very crisp looking officer of the Colonial Navy. Drusilla looked on as the crowd accumulated. There was not a great deal of hubub but she suspected that that stood in large part due to the reason for this coagulation of humanity, forming a brightly coloured scab over the military's most recently sustained wound. The woman clasped her hand behind her back, waiting as the last stragglers shuffled in and prepared for the coming ceremony. She looked for the Commander, whom she presumed would preside, but failed to not him. A few others caught her attention. Maerker, the LSO. Not an altogether bad sort of person, and he served on the Pegasus, which to her mind warranted him a little extra attention some time down the road. THen there was the handy one… what was her name? Oh, of course, Ensign Peters, eating for two. Drusilla wondered how the woman fared after their previous, quite interesting, encounter. The Fleet XO was not far from her, the two seemed to be engaging in conversation. Nothing out of the ordinary there, after all, given their connexion. A deep breath and the lady lawyer prepared herself for a great deal of standing, subtly flexing her muscles at alternating intervals and maintining the flow of oxygen at a steady pace to her limbs.
Reed looks to Pepper, then to Salin as the proceedings start., looking to the viewport as the final salute of the Solaris is given, his arm snapping up in salute as the guns fire and the Solaris is sent on her way beyond the veil of space.
At the sound of the Commander's proclamation, Azad stands straight even if he gazes out the viewport impassively, his eyes locked upon the ruined hull of the Solaris, lips pursed tightly. His shoulders roll back a little bit as he shifts his stance from one foot to the other.
Rhea levels a look at Reed, snorting. She does not reply. She just *looks* at him for a beat. Her own dress grays are neat and pressed, but the ChEng doesn't wear them often, so it's no great accomplishment keeping them like-new. Her expression moderates to a smile as Pepper joins them. "Peters," she says with an inclination of her head. As to the congratulations, she snorts, adding a wry, "Thanks." She says no more as Salin gets going, listening, then her eyes go back to the viewport. Her expression is somber as she watches the ship explode. Mourning the vessel, in a snipe-y sort of way.
Phelan snaps to attention as the command is given, watching the barrage light up the Solaris and then grow quiet. He says quietly to himself, "One less star to shine."
The Commander gave the order, and, without a single flinch, the weapons are released as Maerker watches on. The Solaris is gone… With a slight sadness in his eyes, he looks downward to the deck, thinking of the lives lost aboard her. "She was a proud ship," he says to himself as quietly as he could muster, yet not quite certain if it was quiet enough. Slowly looking back up, he looks to the people assembled, not too certain what's coming next, be it here in this room, or the next day. Today, perhaps more than any other day, was a day to be fortunate for life, for tomorrow the Genesis might be next to be found and destroyed like the Solaris.
Warwick comes to attention as well, glancing around for a few moments, before he sees the Solaris go boom. "One more out of its misery…" he mutters to himself.
There's a briefly shared smile with Reed and Rhea, then Pepper is pulling to attention, her focus on Salin. There's a certain military bearing about her, starch to her spine. As the command is given, her hand snaps up to a salute, her eyes focused on the colors and, finally, the nothingness that is left.
Azad furtively and occasionally turns his head a little studying some of the officers in the room, carefully keeping his expression neutral and and unfocused, always glancing back at the viewport between and after each shift of his vision.
Drusilla followed suit with the others, her own place in the room secured. The Commander gave his little speech but the lady lawyer's eyes were focused upon the battlestar that lay floating beyond the protective safety of the viewport. The great hulk of metal, once a beacon of hope and glory of the Colonial Navy now reduced to rubble. A corpse cannibalistically picked clean, only the dry bones bared now and then no longer as the missiles impacted Solaris' hull. What the Cylons could not do, Commander Altair now finished. It exacted a sense of rage in the woman, an anger and disappointment that flowed through her skeleton as Drusilla came to attention on command and executed the militant courtesy due her comrades, both living and deceased. The woman's feelings were kept hidden, boiling underneath her stoney expression. Only the tight pursing of her lips, a thin line of displeasure, betrayed the fact that anything was wrong. Her eyes revealed nothing. They never did, those grey dots staring into the frontier wilderness, watching as other grey objects were being torn to shreds amist a carnival of lights and colours that shown brilliantly in the great beyond. It was very sad. Drusilla felt deeply impacted, moreso than she had anticipated.
Greje is lost in her own thoughts, as often. She stares out the window, perhaps at the destruction of the hull of the Solaris, perhaps not, as she weighs the Commander's words on a sort of mental balance. Balance is important in the scriptural tongues. For every hand, the other hand is always waiting with a retort. But this isn't the time for Academic debate. The rest of the room coming to attention carries her along in its wake, and she does the same at the appropriate moment.
Allowing his gaze to continue to float amongst those that have gathered, Salin's hands return to the edge of the podium and after a moment, he lifts his voice once again. "Never in the history of mankind have we faced a disaster of these proportions." He pauses, though his eyes never stop surveying the room. "In the past, we have faced the threat of our own creation, The Cylons. Fourty years ago, they retreated under the guise of an armistace. In that time, they have made significant advances in the fields of biotechnology. We have uncovered a disturing new threat. One that is even greater then that in which we were already faced with." He's head turns, only to nod towards his aide. Suddenly, images appear on a screen that had been wheeled into the room. The screen begins to cycle through images of human faces. "What you are seeing on the screen are images of humans, or so we believed. In reality, these are actual Cylons. We have been able to confirm that the Cylons have managed, through some form of cloning technology, to create a newer generation of Cylons. Ones that look like us. Act like us. Talk like us." One hand lifts from the podium and he's motioning to the screen. "From what we have gathered, there are limited human forms available, though with multiple copies of each. These, are the ones that we currently know about. Information on each will be released once this has been concluded."
His hand returns to the podium and he's looking back out to those that have gathered before resuming. "How do we fight an enemy who has us outnumbered? Who has routed us from our worlds? Who can look and act like us in every fashion?" Fingers curl firmly against the edge of the podium, "We leave everything behind and set out to find a new home. Through our work in salvaging data from a secret military project, we have aquired a map that dipicts the far reaches of our galaxy. We will set sail and leave Colonial Space, travel past the reach of the Cylons and find a new world in which to colonize and call home." Slowly, Salin gives a single nod of his head, "There, we will rebuild our species, outside the threat of the Cylons. It is the only way to ensure our survival. To ensure that we are not destroyed, piece by piece." Hands release the sides of the podium, but only so that palms can flatten against it. "I will not lie and say this will be an easy journey, for it will not be. We -will- be pursued. They -will- search for us. But we have the advantage now. We know were to go, while they do not." Finally, he's releasing the podium, only to step around in front of it, "And I give you my word, as Commander of this Fleet, that you will never be alone. We will never abandon you. We will fight with our very last breath, to ensure that we survive. To ensure that we can rebuild. To ensure that we can find peace, once more. You know what must be done. The days ahead will be rough and long, but I have faith in each and every one of you. I trust in each of you. I respect each of you." His hand lifts as he brings it up in a salute, one intended to all those that have gathered. "I salute each of you." He holds the salute for a moment longer before he's lowering it back down. "So say we all. Dismissed."
Rhea's posture straightens even moreso, her eyes going from the blackness of space to the screen at the images flash. There's no surprise from her. She just looks grim. Her eyes look away from the screen, and Salin, around to the faces of her fellow soldiers.
There are a lot of worse places Azad could be, right now. Call it self-absorption, call it lack of overtly expressed emotion, but the recruit does exude a certain sense of calm in the face of this. The Commander's speech does seem to snap him out of this, a bit, opening his mouth just a fraction of an inch as he inhales. As he eyes the new revelation of the new face of the Cylon adversary his eyes go slightly wide, brows arching and then his eyelids narrow a short moment thereafter and proceeds to look at various, random faces in the room before jerking his head back to the screen. His furtive glances simply imply one of the most obvious thoughts that would come to light in the face of this. If Cylons look like humans, how can we even tell? He never breaks his attentive stance. Finally, the rest of the speech is given. He lingers until the appropriate beat arrives for a "So Say We All" in response. Hopefully he isn't the only done doing it. He'd look pretty stupid, wouldn't he?
Maerker intently listens to the words from the Commander, every word absorbed until… The look like us now. His eyes remained transfixed on the screen, his own mind racing as he wonders if they could be in the fleet… On his very deck. His jaw, usually locked in place is now slack as the news of the Cylons appearing human hits him totally. His face is now stone, realizing the danger they all face now. Turning to face the others in the room, he begins to formulate his own briefing in his mind to his Division. What will he say? What will they say? His mind raced, yet there were no answers, certrainly no easy ones to even begin to express the danger they now faced.
Warwick shakes his head a bit as he hears that revelation. "Interesting…" he mutters a bit to himself, glancing around at those he can see. Frowning a bit as he stays entirely silent for the moment, looking a bit lost in thought.
Greje is distracted from her reverie by equipment being wheeled in, and she casts the Commander a curious glance before she settles into what he's saying. The words don't seem to come as any big surprise, but still she tenses, a little. When her eyes find the screen, though, she comes upon some sort of difficulty, her breath momentarily forgetting to come to her as a cool sweat pricks at her forehead.
"So say we all." came the echo. But was it what Drusilla really was saying? She spoke the words, drawing forth the rythim of vibrations produced by her vocal cords and projected around her in synchrony with the gathering around her, but what was it she really said? How could it be, her eard registered only passively what it was the Commander said. She caught all of it but did not immediately register the meaning of the man's epilogue. Her intuition filled in the dots. Something about … retreat? That seemed to be what it came down to in her mind. Faced with a perceptibly insurmountable obstacle they were departing, travelling into space unknown. Truly, unknown, in spite of whatever data had been acquired. Drusilla inhaled deeply, her breath subsequently released through her nose in a sigh. The ceremony was over, they had been dismissed. And then, the realisation stuck her like a ton of bricks. Drusilla stumbled, her hand waving awkwardly to find something, or someone by which to stabilise herself before she risked tumbling. Cylons that could look and act like … humans? Is that what the Commander had said? In every fashion? What nonsense was this? Because, assuredly, it could only be whistful blabberings of greedy rumourmongers. But how would a man like Salin Altair be convinced of such fancies? How could a fellow lawyer propagate such foolishness? And Drusilla suddenly felt at a loss. She grieved. She grieved for her home, a little plot of land on Aerelon. She grieved for her books, speckles of space dust, the victims of a Cylon missile upon the desctuction of PAS. But above all she grieved for the Colonial Navy which as every day passed it grew increasingly clear, and more and more difficult to deny even in her strictly ordered mind, was fracturing, becoming emfeebled. What was to come of it all? THe rhetorical question echoed in the deep recessed of her head and on into eternity.
Reed drops salute to the Solaris, and listens to the Fleet CO as he speak. Not a flicker of emotion from his face. He then moves as the Dismissal is given and he moves forward, turning to face the assembled attendees. "All Hands!" He barks, hard, and clear, "Jump Stations! Fleetwide jump procedures enacting in five minutes, Mark!" People start jumping to their stations as the Hera CO and Fleet XO moves to the doors to get the fleet moving out, "Let's get out of this Cylon nest." He mutters, galvanizing as many as possible on his way out.
Rhea joins the chorus of "So say we all", simply nodding. Watching the crew, then turning back to watch the Fleet in space. Ready to go.
Warwick shakes his head a little bit, "This'll be interesting…" he mutters to himself.
Pepper's voice is quiet as she stands at attention, watching Salin rather than the screen. She returns the chorus of "So say we all," but it's quietly done, without fanfare. Did she know ahead of time? Didn't she? It's hard to tell, given her expression. At Reed's bark, she turns away from Salin and moves to follow her CO out, face thoughtful.
Azad wastes no time in heeding the Fleet XO's verbal whip-crack. That is what the XO's job is, after all. An eyebrow raises and again, even as he breaks into motion he can't help himself but take another look around the place. He has a sort of on-edge quality that he is not bothering to hide.
Maerker hears the words of Colonel Reed Carter and immediately gets into the gameplay mode… Time to do what we do best. Turning immediately to Azad, he gives the young man a look that can only be described as all business. "Recruit Azad, we have a deck to get ready for a jump. I know you've been working with Chief Tauro and Specialist Yama, so give me your own report on Deck Readiness."
As Reed barks out his orders, Salin is giving a subtle nod of his head towards the man. Then, his eyes flicker over towards his aide, to whom he's giving the same nod, an indication that she's to return the equipment and then advance to her post. That done, the Commander allows his eyes to play over those who'd gathered, one final time, before he steps away from the podium, making his way towards the door.
Recruit Azad Girard couldn't quietly make it out of this gathering without getting fingered. He's probably getting used to hearing from the LSO. Suddenly his pensive demeanor shifts and he seems relatively calm, whatever internal startlement he's suffering from. Beaming with a certain Junior Knuckledragger pride, he salutes. "Sir. Cleaned up another Viper this morning. You can get the notes from the Chief, but the Deck is ready, sir. You can count on us."
Reed moves out with the Hera Staff, to return to his ship and prepare for the series of jumps.