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Fate of the Bunker Hill, Part I

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Briefing Room - SCB Citadel This room serves as a general meeting room for the Citadel staff. The far wall has the logo of the Citadel alongside the logo of the Vanguard. The Vanguard flag sits in one corner next to the Consortium flag. The long table in the middle of the room is able to hold about 20 people. Small computer terminals can be found at each seat. Cubana arrives from Security Checkpoint. Avocet strides into the meeting room and takes a seat at the head of the table. Strand looks toward the door and scans the new arrivals, noting the amount of brass on their uniforms. Rathmon nods

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Briefing Room - SCB Citadel This room serves as a general meeting room for the Citadel staff. The far wall has the logo of the Citadel alongside the logo of the Vanguard. The Vanguard flag sits in one corner next to the Consortium flag. The long table in the middle of the room is able to hold about 20 people. Small computer terminals can be found at each seat. Cubana arrives from Security Checkpoint. Avocet strides into the meeting room and takes a seat at the head of the table. Strand looks toward the door and scans the new arrivals, noting the amount of brass on their uniforms. Tavares lets the General move ahead of her, then quietly takes the chair to his left. Cubana strides in after Avocet, dark beady eyes peering out unemotionally from her face. She steps towards the table and takes a seat silently, eyes never making contact with anyone. Avocet glances toward Cubana. "Any more of your crew coming, Colonel?" Cubana shakes her head slighlty, "Captain Marcus may be joining us shortly, other then that, no." Avocet nods, then glances toward Daerius. "Sergeant, anyone else from your squad coming?" Marcus arrives from Security Checkpoint. Marcus has arrived. Daerius shakes his head, "I don't believe so, Sir." Avocet furrows his brow. "Curious. Given the severity of the situation...but it is of no consequence. I have Colonel Warrick's report, and you have been gracious enough to be present. You'll do." He gestures to a pitcher of water and several glasses on the table. "Thirsty?" Daerius again shakes his head in the negative, "No. Thank you, Sir." Marcus walks in calmly, his blue gaze sweeping over the shoulderboards of high-ranking Vanguard Officers. "Pencil pushers..." He says quietly to himself and the select few standing near the door. Slowly, he makes his way towards a seat with a good view of the 'action'. Cubana begins struggling through a report placed at her position on the table. Strand begins to feel a little outnumbered in the sea of navy uniforms, and he shifts in his seat as if to remind himself that he'll have to get used to it. Tavares arches an eyebrow at the latecomer. "Did you need to address the board, Captain?" The last word is accented like a profanity. Rathmon has arrived. Marcus looks over towards Tavares, sizing the other up with a long critical gaze. "Not at all, /Colonel./" He says, readjusting himself in his chair with the groan of leather. Avocet stands, then says, solemnly, "I see no reason to delay this matter any further. Let's put these proceedings on the record. It is 2100 hours, 25 July 2651. This board of inquiry is convened to consider the matter of the destruction of the SCT Bunker Hill - and the subsequent acquisition of the alien vessel currently referred to as "Echo Foxtrot." Cubana is seated at a long table in the middle, her eyes small beady black orbs that peer intently from her face. Her attention now seems to be focused on a report placed in front of her position. Rathmon strolls in and takes a seat. Avocet gestures to those around him for the record. "Present on the board are General Avocet, Colonel Curtis, Colonel Cubana and Lt. Colonel Tavares." Denick arrives from Security Checkpoint. Avocet ahhs. "And, Colonel Rathmon. Thank you for joining us." Denick strides in, saluting. Avocet resumes his seat, then pours himself a glass of water. Marcus looks over to Rathmon, grunting slightly with a faint smirk, looking back over at the table and it's occupants with mild disgust. Rathmon nods Avocet says, "All right, let's go over the summary of what we're told happened, according to the report." Cubana nods slightly. Warrick arrives from Security Checkpoint. Avocet says, "Approximately one week ago, the SCT Bunker Hill - carrying the 3rd Regimental Combat Troop and Lt. Col. Josiah of the Versailles back to Citadel under my orders - departed the Versailles near M'mralu, the new world discovered by the Versailles during her recent voyage." Avocet says, "According to the report I have, someone - most likely the Nall saboteur killed by Col. Rathmon - tampered with the Bunker Hill's nav system - causing her to go extremely off course." Marcus leans back, lazily crossing his left leg over his right as the groaning of stretched leather erupts all around him. "Hrm.." He says in a quiet sigh, eyes roving over towards Avocet. Strand tries his very best to look as if he knows EXACTLY what the general is talking about and casts a grave glance at everyone in the room. Cubana simply continues to scan the report in front of her. Curtis merely listens intently. Denick stands, paying rapt attention, his hands clasped behind his back. Daerius listens. Avocet looks grim. "The Bunker Hill wound up in the territory of a previously unknown hostile alien race, and came under attack by one of their vessels." Warrick steps in, an electronic notepad tucked under his right arm. His face is stoney, his posture rigid, his steps precise as they carry him to the table. He pulls out a chair, settling into it without a hint of relaxation. Rathmon sits back and watches the proceedings. Avocet shakes his head, sighing. "Several Marines, along with Lt. Col. Josiah, lost their lives. The Marine squad succeeded in overrunning the alien vessel - but lost the Bunker Hill. They then proceeded to return to Citadel aboard the alien vessel. That's what I've got in the report." He looks to Daerius and Warrick. "Now, I think we'd all like to hear it from the horse's mouth, as it were." Unable to stifle a brief cruel chuckle, Marcus covers his face with his right hand as his icey-blue eyes focus in on Warrick as he enters. "Wow...This'll be lengthy." He says, leaning towards the person beside him and commenting. Cubana looks up slowly from her reports and towards Marcus, rock hard eyes staring at him without movement. Daerius looks at Warrick, letting his superior speak first. Tavares turns her gaze from the general to the newcomer. Her eyes fix for a moment on his identification badge, then crawl appraisingly over the rest. Marcus, as if feeling another's gaze upon him, looks over at Cubana and meets her own with a stern defiance. Warrick's gaze drifts momentarily to Marcus, then to Avocet. He sets his electronic notepad on the table before him, folding his hands beside it deliberately. Avocet lifts his water glass to his lips, sips briefly, then sets the glass back down on the table. Cubana's eyes darken ever so slightly and she pulls her gaze away towards Warrick. Curtis looks to Warrick expectantly. Marcus looks over towards Warrick as well, his suspended foot now dancing in a circle-8 pattern. Warrick clears his throat, then begins speaking, his voice calm and deep, "As General Avocet has reported, the Bunker Hill disengaged from the Versailles near M'mralu under orders to proceed directly to the Citadel. At my order, we entered Hyperspace on a direct course for home. Our expected time of arrival was 10 hours after our departure. Unbeknownst to anyone aboard at the time, our navigational controls had been sabotaged. Our vessel overshot our intended target by several hundred million hecameters. An unidentified vessel, its signiture dubbed 'Echo Foxtrot', detected our vessel soon after our drop from Hyperspace. Marcus raises his hand as if expecting his question to truly be recognized. Avocet does an admirable job of ignoring the captain's hand. Strand looks down at his briefcase with just a touch of longing. After a few moments he tries to inconspicuously open the briefcase and remove an electronic notepad. Stylus in hand, he begins to take notes... just in case they're needed. Strand glances at Marcus for less than a nanosecond and makes a note. Marcus' hand remains upright for a good minute or so before dropping, his attention focusing on the person beside him before quickly changing back to the topic at hand. Warrick says, "No formal communication attempts were made by Echo Foxtrot. They mirrored our course for a time, then, abruptly, fired. There was evidence of some form of telepathic contact though no attempt at negotiation or compromise-- this matter I will leave to Sergeant Daerius, who, I think, has more insight than I on it."" Avocet nods, then lets his gaze drift to Daerius. "Go ahead, Sergeant." Cubana takes a glance at Marcus before shifting her attention from him to Daerius, face still unreadable. Marcus looks over towards Daerius now, his head lolling to one side. Daerius's hands are calmly resting on the table, expression stone. "There were a series of...mental impressions. They scanned us for a time, and extreme paranoia and fear were directed in our direction. An attempt was made to allay fears, to establish that we were not intending any hostilities, but that seemed to..cause more fear. They fired. We fired back." Tavares' brow furrows slightly at the last. Curtis listens to the testimony, his expression never changing. Avocet takes another sip of water from his glass, then sets it down. Condensation trickles down the glass and pools slightly on the tablecloth. "Typical." Marcus growls more from his gut than lips, the remark only heard distinctly by the people beside him, any further and it would sound like he was clearing his throat. Strand makes another note. Daerius doesn't seem inclined to elaborate unless asked. Avocet nods. "I see. That's it?" Rathmon sits back and continues to watch. Avocet glances toward the other board members. "We'll let the ranking Colonel ask questions first. Colonel Cubana?" Cubana nods a bit, eyes moving to Warrick, "At what speed where you travelling Colonel..." Cubana adds, her voice stern, "And was your bridge manned during this flight?" Warrick says, "We were travelling at our best speed towards the Citadel. The bridge was manned-- we discovered that we were unable to drop out of hyperspace due to the sabotage." Cubana clears her throat slightly and glances down at the report in her hands, "Colonel...at that time did it not cross the minds of your crew to shoot off a distress call?" Marcus adjusts himself in his seat, his left leg lowering to the deck as he leans forward, interested as the subject now changes to navigation. Dahan arrives from Security Checkpoint. Dahan rolls into the chamber, flanked by a pair of bodyguards. Avocet nods politely to the president as the Centauran enters. Tavares folds her hands on the table. Dahan moves over by the table. With a flick of its tentacle, it telepathically sends, 'Please, continue.' Sondrix arrives from Security Checkpoint. Avocet is seated on one side of the table with Rathmon, Cubana and Tavares. Daerius and Warrick are on the other. Cubana is seated at the table, her dark eyes peering straight through warrick as she awaits a response. Warrick says, "A distress call was sent, though I would assume that it was not received. The saboteur was quite thorough in his plan to remove us from this region of space." Strand is unobtrusively taking notes, up until now the only civilian in the room. Marcus is seating in what would be tearmed the 'audience', his forearms resting on his thighs as he peers closer to the discussion. Footsteps, brisk and quick. In a few moments the distinct tall lanky form of Captain Terestin Sondrix appears through the doorway, her lab coat splattered with flecks of blood and other gory reminders of the medical bay. She comes to sharp salute, her face rather weary. "Sir. I apologize for the lateness sir, but one of my patients had an amputation due to gangrene sir." Avocet arches his eyebrows. "Captain Sondrix, take a seat." He gestures toward where Marcus and Strand are sitting. Dahan shifts its body somewhat in obvious discomfort on hearing the doctors excuse. Strand looks at the doctor with something approaching shock at her seemingly casual way of putting it. Marcus looks over towards Sondrix as she enters, a sarcastic smirk gracing his features before returning his attention to the board. Tavares' lip curls in disgust at the streaked and stained lab coat. She sits back in her chair, arms folded against her chest, and tears her eyes away from the gore. Sondrix salutes again. "Yes sir." She then turns smartly on her heel and marches, back straight, to the indicated seat, taking her place by Marcus. Her eyes are somber, perhaps from the unpleasant operation she has had to undertake earlier. Cubana's eyes never leave Warrick, as if in a silent battle. Avocet says, "Colonel Cubana, further questions?" "Captain." Is all Marcus says in greeting to the approaching doctor through the corner of his mouth, his eyes never once leaving the assembled officers at the center of the room. Cubana shakes her head slowly, "Not for now, Sir." Sondrix returns Marcus' greeting with a quiet, "Captain," of her own. She watches the proceedings with almost detached serenity. Avocet nods, then looks to Rathmon. "Colonel?" Strand's notebook suddenly emits an all-too-loud chime noise. The lawyer looks at his notebook and looks around the room sheepishly. Within moments the notebook is packed away into the briefcase and Strand has excused himself. Strand heads into Security Checkpoint. Rathmon perks up, "Sir? You say, "Questions for the Marines?" Rathmon considers for a moment. "Negative, Sir." Avocet nods, then looks to Tavares. "Lt. Colonel Tavares." Tavares leans forward, nodding curtly to Avocet. "I have a question, Sir" Without waiting for a go-ahead, Tavares eyes Warrick. "How did you end up aboard the alien vessel and how did the Bunker Hill end up destroyed?" Marcus' blue eyes roll back up into his head as he listens intently to the questions. Mouth opening as he focuses in on some distant point in the overhead which seems more entertaining for the time being. Dahan folds its tentacles facing the proceedings, and leans forward. It's clear it's interested in the topic just arisen. Warrick says, "The Bunker Hill was severly damaged in the firefight-- the alien vessel possessed weapons vastly more powerful than our own. We were able to close with her, however, and force a boarding link. We then stormed the hostile vessel. The aliens fought to the last, but we were able to seize her. The Bunker Hill, unfortunately, was made unspaceworthy in the conflict. We removed all the personnel and supplies that we could to the alien vessel, returning aboard it to the Citadel." Sondrix is silent herself, although one suspects that it's not a substitute for lack of things to say. Without fuss she shrugs off the offending lab coat, pulls it smoothly out from under her, folds it and lays it across her lap, the revealed navy-blue Vanguard uniform pristine, laundered and impeccably pressed. Tavares nods and sits back. "Thank you." Avocet steeples his fingers, leans back in his chair and asks, "Colonel Warrick, what do we know about the aliens that owned this vessel?" Rathmon eyes perk up at more powerful weapons. Cubana glances at Rathmon as more powerful weapons are spoken of. Rathmon returns the glance, with a smile. Marcus looks over towards Rathmon then towards Cubana, shaking his head faintly as a small gruff 'heh' emits from his lips. Warrick says, "They are a technologically advanced, powerful, hostile society that is, fortunately, far removed from our own by distance. Their weapons technology was impressive, as is the fact that Echo Foxtrot is in possession of its own fully functional cloaking device." A slight pause is followed by, "I would hear what Sergeant Daerius has to say on this matter, General. He, I believe, has greater insight into the nature of these beings."" Avocet nods, then lets his eyes slide to Daerius. "Let's have it." Daerius takes a breath, somehow conveying reluctance without the actual physical signs of such a thing being there. "Xenophobic. Paranoid. Obsessed about the purity of their culture. Capable of far reaching telepathic abilities and...apparently with a rather dark sense of vengence too." Crisp, short and to the point. Dahan remains calm and quietly attentive, but begins to flick a back tenticle in a manner very much like a bothered housecat's tail. Avocet nods. "Vengeance. So, these aliens, with superior firepower, may come sauntering our way for revenge? Cubana frowns at this, her attention shifting back to Daerius. Sondrix's eyes glimmer for a little bit, nodding just fractionally. She gives the faintest of little smiles to Daerius, her controlled manner unbending just enough to indicate what might be a quiet affection. Marcus perks an eyebrow and sits up a tad straighter as his attention snaps to the here and now, looking somewhat between concerned and excited. Daerius pauses, "It is a possibility." He concedes, "Though, given what has been shown about their distaste for interaction with other races. I think they might be reluctant to pursue that path." Rathmon considers the testimony. Avocet nods. "Are you sure about that? We have effectively invaded their territory, stolen their technology, killed their crew. If someone did that to, say, the Andromeda - we would consider it a possible act of war." Rathmon nods Avocet scratches his chin. "Speaking of their crew...do we have any of these aliens for study? That could be of value." Warrick says, "We had retained one alien body, the one in best condition, for study. Unfortunately, Private Jayden, evidently unaware of my order, spaced it." His nostrils flare for a moment. "The matter of his review, however, does not seem germaine to this inquiry. We do have an artifact, however, which may prove instructive. Again, I must direct the board's attention to Sergeant Daerius."" Avocet raises a hand. "A moment, Colonel. I think this board will judge what is germaine." Sondrix's brows knit together in a sharp crease at the mention of study of the alien body and the unfortunate Jayden's actions. As the artifact is brought up however, her face turns a shade grimmer. Avocet leans forward, placing his hands palm down on the table. "Back up very briefly and explain to me again about this...Private...Jayden disposing of an important piece of evidence?" Marcus tilts his head to the side, looking briefly towards Sondrix and then at Warrick. Cubana frowns minutely, the look quickly disappearing. Warrick says, "As I stated, General, we retained the most intact corpse. Private Jayden, who claims ignorance of my order, collected the corpse, proceeding with it to the airlock. From there, he spaced it." His lips purse slightly. "It is conceivable that the Private was unaware of my specific order, due to the chaos of the situation. However, I believe that his action showed a grevious lack of judgement and intend to recommend that all appropriate disciplinary action be taken." Cubana shakes her head ever so slightly. Avocet furrows his brow. "Indeed." He looks toward Daerius. "So, tell us about this *artifact*." Sondrix's eyes are a touch stormy as she sits up straighter in her seat, like a craggy-faced martinet with a rivet in his back. The mention of the artifact only seems to darken her already somber mood. Daerius's right hand unclentches from a fist. "An orb. Upon discovery of it there were echoes of mental impressions. There was a drawing to touch it, and once it was touched," He pauses, "It appeared to be a communication device, taking the holder to a group of these aliens. There was a brief discussion in which they decided to take no further action on us as we left their space. I believe that the orb still acts as a channel in this way." Avocet nods slowly. "So it's a homing device?" Daerius raises an eyebrow, "I don't know about a homing device. However it would almost seem to be a relay for their thoughts. Like a comm link. Activated by touch." Avocet leans back in his chair. "All right, let me make sure I've got this straight. You violated their territory. You captured one of their ships by force. And then they spoke to you through a crystal ball and said, "Sure, take our ship, we mean you no further harm? Consider it a souvenir?'" Tavares rubs her right temple and stares at the table. Cubana leans back, her eyes on daerius. Marcus raises an eyebrow and smirks broadly. Sondrix quietly raises her hand, her face smooth. Avocet keeps his eyes on Daerius, awaiting a response. Daerius's expression is unchanged, "Actually it was more like, 'You murderous trash we are going to destroy you,' and then, 'But even that would violate our purity, get out of our space and never come back." Avocet quirks an eyebrow. "Well, that sounds a bit more realistic. But still - they allowed an inferior race to escape with their technology?" Marcus stifles a rushing laugh as he leans back, his eyes glimmering as they focus on Daerius appraisingly. Marcus looks over to Sondrix with her raised arm and shrugs, raising his own arm as well once more. Sondrix waits for the General to finish with Daerius, holding her pose all the while. Avocet shrugs. "I mean, we're murderous trash, as they put it. They know what we're really like, yes? And they gave us their superior weapons and a ship to go over with a fine-toothed comb?" Daerius says simply, "Sir, all their actions were motivated by fear. We scared them." He seems to bite back an addition to that. Warrick remains stonily silent, hands folded before him. Rathmon remains interested in the events. Avocet glances toward Sondrix. "Come forward, Captain. Your input is welcome at this point." Fingers dance around on Marcus' raised hand as he awaits acknowledgement. Sondrix stands and comes to salute. "Yes sir," is her crisp, brief reply as she steps forward towards the table and the seated officers. Her face remains studiedly serene. Avocet says, "Have a seat, Captain." Avocet notices Marcus, then leans over to Tavares. "Yes sir. Thank you sir." As requested, Sondrix seats herself, resting her hands on her lap. Avocet nods, looking back to Sondrix. "Go ahead." Sondrix pauses a second as if to choose her words, then speaks. "The orb that was found by the Specialist is a communication device, but a selective one. The Specialist is the only one that it seems to communicate with. Why this is so, we have not ascertained yet. Perhaps it is a gender issue involving culture. My hypothesis is that they have been a dominated people before, which does in some ways explain their paranoia regarding racial purity. It is, however, merely a hypothesis." She takes a breath, then continues calmly, "The orb was sealed away in a chamber up from the vault of the main ship's body. This may denote that it is an important artifact of sorts. Perhaps a sacred object." Avocet quirks an eyebrow. "Ok. So, we've violated their territory, stolen their ship, killed their people and made off with a sacred Ark of the Covenant. Great. Anyone else getting a bad feeling about this?" Avocet glances toward Warrick. "And, I take it we should count our blessings that Private Jayden didn't get *his* hands on this orb, yes?" Dahan inclines its head slightly. 'It does seem that this crew has performed its duties rather poorly. The Consortium doesn't need new enemies.' Daerius's jaw tightens and he raises his hand slightly. Sondrix states, her eyes flickering slightly, "For a very brief moment I was privvy to the aliens' mental communication, sir. They are indeed...deeply resentful. The impression I received from them is that they are merely biding their time." She looks reflective. "Fear motivates them, for certain. And they are definitely powerful." Her eyes go towards Dahan. "For what it is worth sir, we had no choice. Unless of course, being killed is an option in the interests of peace." Avocet gives a flinty look at Sondrix. "Sometimes, it is." Avocet nods to Daerius. "Yes, Sergeant?" Dahan makes to reply to this, and retains its cool demeanor. Rathmon frowns, "In their defense, sirs. They didn't exactly ask to be shot at, attacked, thrown off course by a Nall saboteur." Avocet glances toward Rathmon sharply. "The board will deliberate this matter when it is concluded." Rathmon shrugs. Avocet turns his attention back to Daerius. Warrick's brows arc, his eyes shifting to Dahan. "Begging your pardon, President, but we were thrown into this new territory by an act of sabotage and attacked, without any other provocation or inquiry, by this new enemy of which you speak. It is a testament to our preparedness as a unit that we survived this situation to return to warn you of this new, potential threat. Under different circumstances, it might well be they, the victors, analyzing our corpses and artifacts. Rathmon sits back and places crosses his fingers. Rathmon nods at Warrick's statements. Marcus leans back, wiping his hand over his features roughly to clear away any excitement that may have been left over from the announcement of hostilities. Daerius says in an even tone, "I can confidently say that we exhausted all possibilities before boarding them. They were whittling down our shields, we had tried to explain, aimed to disable their ship and then leave. Then out right tried to outrun, them before we boarded." Sondrix's eyes flicker very briefly. Her hands still repose restfully in her lap, the mirror smoothness of her expression uncannily serene. "You could've always sacrificed yourselves for the greater good of the Consortium and those that live within it." Comes Marcus' sharp reply. Avocet nods, raising a hand. "Enough." He looks around the table, then brings his eyes back to the Marines. "We will adjourn for the night and reconvene at 2000 hours tomorrow to conclude this matter. Dismissed." Daerius raises an eyebrow and just looks at Marcus. Then he stands. Rathmon stands and stretches. Dahan remains where it is, while most of the officers file out of the room. Marcus looks over towards Daerius, quirking his head and eyebrows to the side questioningly, remaining where he sits. Sondrix stays in her seat for a moment before rising. Her eyes sparkle brightly. Marcus stands slowly, "Instead, of course..." He continues to himself, "Allowing them to potentially track you all the way back home..." With that, he exits the audience's booth and prepares to join the queue of departing officers. Daerius murmurs something in Navajo. Warrick collects his notepad, standing stiffly. He looks, witheringly, towards Marcus. "Captain-- you are here to observe. It would serve you better to reserve your comments for a more appropriate time." Sondrix's response to Marcus's comments, while cool and collected, is short, pithy and to the point. "We are Marines." No more. Although it might be a strange statement since she is certainly not in Marine uniform. Marcus, having heard his name, stands on his tiptoes while craning his neck to look above the sea of departing bodies, "Duly noted, /Colonel./" With that, his eyes barely flicker towards Sondrix before returning to the task at hand. Rathmon stretches again. Avocet stands. "I said *enough*. Take it outside." Tavares stands beside the general. Rathmon quirks an eyebrow at Avocet's reaction. Marcus heads into Security Checkpoint. Warrick looks to Avocet, his brows quirking lightly. He salutes crisply, then turns to leave. Avocet returns the salute, then turns to Tavares. Warrick heads into Security Checkpoint. Sondrix strides from her place without a word more and makes strides for the door. She pauses only to shrug on her lab coat and her face is dispirited, tired and anything but serene. Then away she whisks. Avocet grunts. "What an absolute fiasco." Rathmon eyes the departures. Tavares rubs her temples tiredly. "Yes, General." Avocet says, "Okay, people, get some rest. Colonel Rathmon, if you want to raise those issues about the Marines doing what they had to do, feel free to do so in the form of a question. I don't need you testifying on their behalf." Dahan bobs slightly inside its containment vessel. 'I'm afraid this does complicate matters, General. If you don't mind, I'd like a word with you in private.' Rathmon shrugs. Avocet nods to Dahan. "Of course, sir." He looks to Rathmon and Tavares. "Dismissed. See you back here tomorrow." Tavares nods. "Aye, Sir" Tavares turns and heads for the door. Tavares heads into Security Checkpoint. Rathmon says, "I believe, sir, I have to return an do some maintenance on some fighter craft." Rathmon salutes, and leaves. Avocet returns the salute. Rathmon says, "I regret that I won't be able to attend, good day." Rathmon heads into Security Checkpoint. Dahan waits until most of the group has left earshot. Avocet lets his eyes drift to Dahan. Dahan sends, 'I'm afraid I wasn't able to make it here sooner, but I was naturally curious about the results of this mission. What are your thoughts for dealing with this mess?' Cubana stands silently, her hands collecting and squaring off the papers in front of her. Avocet shakes his head. "Well, we've made our bed, so to speak. Now we have to lie in it. Those Marines went barreling into a first contact situation and laid the groundwork for yet another superior race to want to kick our collective butts. Whatever comes out of this, I'm putting that group where they can't do any more harm - if possible." Cubana looks up and toward Avocet. Dahan nods gently. 'Treat your men as you best feel. However, I would like to have the artifact and stolen vessel to be studied. I expect we haven't heard the last from either the Nalls or these new aliens.' Cubana breaks in, "Or the Kretonians." Avocet smiles tightly. "Might as well get something out of it, I agree. I do have a posting in mind for the 3rd Regiment, of course. Sir, the vessel is in Citadel's docking bay. If your intelligence people want to give it a going over, they can feel free." Dahan adds, 'If the artifact is in fact use mental abilities, I feel the C.R.I. would be best qualified to study it. Thank you, General. I'll have my people, both the C.R.I. and intelligence investigating shortly.' Avocet nods. "Oh, Mr. President..." Dahan dips slightly. 'Yes, General?" Avocet says, "I have another request of the CRI, if it wouldn't be too much trouble," Avocet clasps his hands behind his back. "Currently, the Kretonians have a shortcut - a wormhole that leads from their star system to M'mralu. I want that route closed, if possible. Can the Centaurans look into the means to make that happen? I know eradicating a wormhole is tricky business...but so is giving the Kretonians a quick route to our holdings." Dahan tips its head gravely. 'I shall give them your challenge. We can only hope they will be successful.' Avocet nods, smiling faintly. "Indeed. Thank you, Mr. President." Dahan lifts a tentacle as it prepares to depart. 'Until we meet again, general.', it sends just before turning and heading out of the room. Dahan heads into Security Checkpoint. Dahan has left. Cubana watches Dahan depart before gathering the papers under her arm. Avocet glances toward Cubana. "Get some rest, Colonel." Cubana looks back towards Avocet and nods simply, "Do the same, General..with those enemies out there...and crews like that one you'll need it." Avocet smiles darkly and chuckles. "Oh, don't get *too* high and mighty. I believe Captain Insolence is on your crew, yes? YOU need every bit as much rest." Avocet quirks his mouth in amusement, then strides toward the door. "Good night, Colonel." Cubana mumbles, "Captain Insolence is one step away from an airlock." as she moves to the door. Continued in Fate of the Bunker Hill, Part II