XO's Taste like Chicken
XO's Taste Like Chicken
Summary: Regas chews butt and there is a distress call.
Date: 35 ACH - 12/18/08
Related Logs: Messhall Tension

File created: 2008-12-18 12:11

You head towards Executive Officers Quarters.


Executive Officers Quarters Genesis - Deck 12

35 ACH 6285 Souls

The XO's quarters are nice, although not as large as the CO's quarters. A desk, small seating area, head and sleeping quarters are here along with anything else the XO may need for their living conditions.

----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-

Contents: Fotilas Regas Wireless 1302

Exits: [O] Corridor


After calling that the door was open, Fots can be seen behind his desk. If he's not in CIC, its where he has been most of the time. The man has a stack of papers on one side of his desk then he looks to have just begun on. This time of morning? He probably hasn't been up more than an hour. If that. He's leaned forward at his desk, penning something.

When the door opens, the Colonel looks up and blinks, standing in his unbuttoned uniform.

Regas shuts the door behind him and walks toward his XO. He doesn't look like he is happy yet. "Major, you and I need to talk." Short and to the point as he pauses there before the desk.

The XO quirks a brow. "Alright, sir. Well I'm at your disposal." Sensing this might require a bit more decorum, Fotilas begins buttoning his tunic. "I'll assume there is something specific you'd like to discuss?"

The wireless receiver (#1302) starts buzzing. Use +com/answer to answer it.

"You could say that. I found the Sheriff and the so called prisoner at the Messhall last night. Since my memo's get buried, I'm a little behind on things. Come to find out she is out of the brig on your order? And this was after you came to me about wanting her to volunteer?" Regas leans forward now, his knuckles on the edge of the XO's desk. "You better start explaining yourself. Are you frakking this woman?"

Fots is going to respond. He doesn't look like he was expecting this, for the man blinks a few times. He even takes a breath to start.. But when the receiver starts buzzing, Fotilas glances at it and then looks to Regas. Which one does he want taken care of first?

Regas glares at the comm, since it might be important. "Answer the frakking thing," he grimaces and then straightens again, waiting.

[Into the Wireless] Fotilas says, "This is the XO. Go."

[Private] "Pandora Actual" Desusa says, "Colonel, Desusa here. I got a code 199 bouncing on the comm grid, sir. Colonial origin. ID matched to a battlestar… (sounds of pages flipping) …355 …Persius."

[Into the Wireless] Fotilas says, "Did you confirm the origin and do you have a location?"

Regas is just glaring at the comm and the man talking and probably the person on the other end too. The Gods must be smiling down on the XO at the moment, or they just need some popcorn for the fun to begin. In any case, it looks like he might get a short reprieve from Commander RARzilla.

The XO's eyes lift to Regas and the man straightens with the first few lines. His eyes then drop to the desk and he begins flipping papers, looking for something. Not a relaxed gesture, either.

"Put the damn thing on speaker." Regas snaps.

[Private] "Pandora Actual" Desusa says, "Code confirmed. The transmission is being bounced off from a civilian satelite around… X02 Y34 Z45, Colonel. (Sounds of steps) Thanks, Specialist. ID verifaction to CDF code. It matches. The signal is weak, and the audio transmission is garbled. (Pause) Last recorded route of the Persius, places it near Scorpia Tylluim plataform G5. The signal is being sent in a radio code that hasn't been used in years, but is a valid 199. We might get a better reception if we take raptor out, sir."

Fotilas reaches over and pushes a button on the com without looking, hanging up the receiver. "Desusa has a 199 from the Persius." He's still looking for something. "Trying to find their last known position. I have them all in a binder.."

Regas pushes his top teeth against his lower ones a moment, "Distress call? Frak. We can't afford a battle right now." A few steps are taken across the room as he listens. His earlier words now shoved back somewhere to finish this later on.

[Into the Wireless] Fotilas says, "Do it. Get a Raptor spooled and the hell out of here. Major, put the fleet at Condition Two, as well. What does the transmision say?"

Fotilas responds and looks to Regas. "You want to leave the Persius to hang, sir? I'll stand by you no matter what but I'll tell you I do not like that order." His jaw sets.

Regas sets his hands on his hips, "Put the civilian ships to the next jump point and send the Pandora with them. It should be cleared from last nights recon. We'll remain here for that Raptor to return and find out what the hell is going on. I'm not giving our small group a target. Just in case."

[Private] "Pandora Actual" Desusa says, "First part of the message's distress encryption. Hold on, sir. (Desusa orders the comm officer to play the audio thru the Pandy's bridge speakers) "Mayday… mayd…. Persiu… nder… atta… Break. Guerrill… gents onboar… (Transmission ends) That's all we got, sir. Comm specialist seems to think that there is also an overlapped video message in there too, but it's to weak a signal to retrieve."

[Into the Wireless] Fotilas says, "Copy that. Jump the fleet including yourself to the standby coordinates after we hang up. We'll standby for the Raptor to return. Forward those coordinates to CIC for distribution to the CAG. Anything else, Major?"

[Genesis] "Pandora Actual" Desusa says, "All hands, moving to Condition Two. All hands, moving to Condition Two."

"Godsdammit!" Regas growls out and turns around, going to the comm. Not like he can't be heard anyway. "Major. If they run into cylons, they will jump out immediately and return to the nest. Is that understood?"

[Into the Wireless] Fotilas is cut off by a new voice. Its Regas. "Major. If they run into cylons, they will jump out immediately and return to the nest. Is that understood?"

Fotilas looks at Regas, brow quirked. Relax, Commander. He doesn't say it, but that's the look in his eyes.

[Private] "Pandora Actual" Desusa was gonna answer Fot, but gets Regas message instead, "Aye-aye, sir."

Regas glances to Fots with a 'don't even go there' look.

[Into the Wireless] Fotilas says, "Thank you Major. You have your orders. Execute jump as soon as you are ready. Fotilas, out."

The Colonel hangs up the receiver and looks to Regas. "Now, shall I answer you while we wait? Or would you prefer to drums fingers in CIC, sir? I'm fine either way." He's stopped looking for the binder, but just stands behind the desk looking cool and collected.

"Since we manage to have a few minutes, you can answer me." Regas states and glances to his watch as it'll take a little for them to get launched.

"Fair enough." The XO glances to his desk and taps a pen for a moment before looking back to the Commander. "First, let me answer your most important question: No. I have no physical relationship with Miss Kyrios. The only time I have touched her was to shake her hand. But to answer the rest?" The XO pauses for a moment, organizing the series of events in his head. "I went to speak with the prisoner after I had heard nothing for three weeks. Then spoke to the Master at Arms. I then spoke to S2. The investigation went cold with S2, sir. So, seeing as how S2 seemed to let it hang in the air while Miss Kyrios was rotting in a cell, I went to JAG on my own authority. I asked if there was a way to have her let out of the cell and Major Altair said there was. On my orders, I told him to draft the notice. Currently, Miss Kyrios is under twnty-four hour guard and is restricted to the Head, Mess, Brig, and her isolated berthings on Deck 12. Thus, why you probably found her and Sergeant Browne in the Mess, sir." Either he believes that he is in the right or he hides fear really well.

"On your orders, exactly. We are not a hotel. She is a civilian," Regas begins, his voice still rather tight. Look out the man will probably go postal..er..not really. "That you took it in hand to see what was going on, I have no problem with. That you released her when there is no verdict, I do have a problem with. Either she is guilty or she isn't and since neither you or the S2 or JAG can seem to make up their minds," he pauses, "When the woman has stated herself, she is guilty, then I will. I don't know what the frak is going on here. But I'm not liking what I hear either. We are not here to play footsie with condemned personnel. Who isn't even military personnel. You are not in a position to come and beg for her to be a volunteer in anything. I am severely disappointed in you, Colonel."

"Sir, the only thing we are waiting on with her is a sentence from JAG or S2. Everyone knows she's guilty. She admits to it. She's provided details of the whole encounter to both Master at Arms Browne, Lieutenant Shem, and myself. She killed him - there's no argument, sir." Fotilas looks a little weary of Regas' logic. "To say that I'm playing footsie with anyone sir, is pretty serious. If you'd like, have JAG investigate me. See exactly what I am doing. Pull the recorded conversation of myself and Kyrios in the brig. But from where I am standing, sir, I would appreciate trust. If you'd prefer, Commander, I can toe the line and be by the book." Fotilas keeps his voice level and nearly conversational. "You've made some calls which haven't been popular but godsdamnit, I stand by you because I believe in you sir. I trust you. I support you because we have to have command unity and trust. So sir, if you want me to order her back into the brig I will. But I stand by my decision to place her under restricted movements."

"If I had figured you were playing footsie, Colonel, you'd be in the brig," the Commander states with a heavy determination. "What you should have done was send her to the Carina, which will be taken care of as soon as we meet up with them again. If I made calls that everyone liked, I'd be their friend. I'm not their friend, I am their Commander. I'm not here for a contest of who likes who." Regas straightens. "You are on two days suspension in your quarters, when this Persius mess is over with."

Fotilas' brow rises with the first. He just stares at Regas for a moment. When he speaks, he addresses the transfer first. "Sir, you want to transfer a military prisoner onto a civilian transport?" Its phrased as a request to clarify exactly what he is ordering. But the last doesn't get a discernable reaction. "Aye, two days suspension from duties in quarters. Should I also assume, sir, that you don't trust the judgment of you XO? Because that is what you are implying with such a punishment. And Commander? If either of us were here to make friends then we're in a lot of frakking trouble, sir."

"Are you not listening? She is not military. She is a Civilian. So that puts it out of our hands. It's been frakked around with long enough and wasted time and crew that could be doing something better with the ship and the personnel here." The middle part of that gets a dark look from Regas, "Don't start to tell me what I'm thinking about you and your career on this Battlestar. Keep the assumations to the gossip board. You are not a boy scout, you are the XO of this ship. Why you have taken such a liking to Ms. Kyrios after one talk with her, I'll let go. Why my Sheriff thinks Kyrios is need of a personal guard and she isn't delegating and doing her own duties, I'll take up with the S2. Why my JAG Officer is in agreement of letting her get a private room on our ship, I will take up with him. Now, get your ass to CIC and do your job, Colonel, before I change my mind."

Fotilas listens like the good subordinate. Regas will get his answers from those people. And most will point back to the XO. He's fine with it. But Fots isn't stupid either. He won't argue the points. "I'll be ready to explain myself should the Commander request it, sir." But he has orders. There's a quick salute thrown and the stack of papers will be left ignored on his desk. He moves around the desk to head for his hatch.

Regas returns the salute and waits until the XO is out before he too heads off to his own quarters for the time being.

[Intercom] Attention! Set Condition Two throughout the fleet.

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