Admiral Adama frowned as James Alistair Sinclair and a new arrival took a seat in his office. “You did not inform me that a synthetic was attending this meeting,” the Admiral said in a cold voice—and both Sinclair and the new arrival smiled.
“Admiral, this is no synthetic. May I present Michael Bishop Weyland the Second, Chief Executive Officer of Weyland-Yutani Corporation?” Sinclair said.
“My body-form was copied for the Hyperdine Model 341-B synthetic, Admiral,” Weyland said with a genial look on his face that nonetheless did not reach his eyes. “It is my tiny act of hubris in achieving immortality—after a fashion.”
“I see,” Adama said, and the look on his own face was one of extreme disdain. “What did you want to discuss—in private, Director Sinclair?”
“Yes,” the man from the ICC said simply. “We have much to discuss, Admiral. Mister Weyland’s arrival at Beowulf was rather unexpected—but he has raised some legitimate concerns.”
Michael smiled. “I was already en route to Beowulf—a surprise inspection for my divisions here.”
“Legitimate concerns about . . . what precisely?” asked Adama.
Michael Weyland leaned forward and his smile vanished. “Your Twelve Worlds Limited is now officially a corporate entity recognized by the ICC—that gives you certain rights, Admiral Adama. And it also comes with a host of responsibilities.”
“Responsibilities? How is that the concern of Weyland-Yutani?”
The man smiled thinly again. “TWL is responsible for leading these . . . Cylons . . . of yours to our worlds, Admiral Adama. We have already lost contact with settlements—small settlements, to be sure—on Alpha Corvi, Zeta Doradus, Iota Horologii, Zeta Reticuli Prime, and of course Acheron. Small colonies and outposts, but each one represents a sizeable investment by one or more corporate members of the ICC.” He smiled again.
“And today, we have received confirmation that your Cylons have landed on Thedus before all contact was lost—that colony is neither small nor is it insignificant. Five million people live on Thedus, and it is a vital component of Weyland-Yutani’s operations in this sector.”
Adama’s eyes narrowed. “We are already coordinating to fight the Cylons alongside of your militaries.”
James held up a placating hand. “For which we are grateful—your information on their tactics and weapons will serve to prevent an even greater loss of life than has already occurred. However,” and he turned to look at Michael—the still smiling Michael—and sighed, “Mister Weyland has formally lodged an injunction against Twelve Worlds Limited receiving any profit from transactions until full compensatory damages for the losses suffered by Weyland-Yutani and other corporations have been rendered.”
“Excuse me?”
“Simply put, Admiral Adama,” said Michael Weyland as he bared his teeth, “until you pay the total replacement cost of all of our corporate losses to date—and future losses that these Cylons inflict—you will not see one penny of revenue from sales and/or licenses of your technology. I have not yet filed this motion with the full board of the ICC,” and he nodded at James Sinclair, “nor yet reminded my fellow corporate CEOs that this seldom used financial regulation is available to them. I will, of course, drop such an injunction if you convince your government to come to an agreement with Weyland-Yutani; an exclusive arrangement with Weyland-Yutani.”
“And if we refuse?”
Michael Weyland laughed. “What price can you put on more than five million lives, Admiral Adama? And every single piece of infrastructure, equipment, shipping costs, and improvements to the worlds we have made? My people have managed to come up with a nice round number doing exactly that—you will be indebted to me for a very, very long time, Admiral Adama. And the ICC does allow hostile takeovers of corporate entities that hold more debt than assets.” He stood, and James Sinclair followed.
“Unfortunately, Admiral, Mister Weyland is within his rights—the ICC will remain neutral in this issue, even as we complete our earlier investigation into the claims made against the late Mister Burke.”
Bill Adama set his jaws and he stood, but before he could speak, Michael Weyland stepped up close to him and poked him in the chest with one finger.
“Just because I am a nice man, Admiral, I give you . . . seventy-two hours to make your decision. After that? Well,” and he smiled again. “after that, I will own you lock, stock, and barrel, Admiral Adama.”
“And if we refuse to be owned?” Adama spat.
“The ICC will not allow you to go to war with another corporate member, Admiral Adama. And if you desire a home in human space, you will abide by our laws,” Sinclair warned. “However,” and he exchanged a glance at Weyland, “I will wish you luck in finding a third path, Admiral—even if I cannot assist you. Good day,” he said politely, and then he turned to leave, followed by Weyland—who paused at the hatch.
“Seventy-two hours, Admiral—the clock is a’ticking.” And then he was gone.
Adama waited until the hatch shut and then he hurled his glass against the bulkhead. He drew in a deep breath and forced himself to calm down, and then walked over to a phone, lifting it. “This is the Admiral. Get the President and Vice-President over here at once,” he snarled, and then racked it again.
The Hunted (nBSG)
Moderator: LadyTevar
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masterarminas
- Jedi Master
- Posts: 1039
- Joined: 2012-04-09 11:06pm
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
“And I thought Caprican and Picon corporations were bad,” Tom Zarek whispered. “Frack this—we could keep on running,” and then he winced.
“Except that the civilian fleet will not understand and they will vote both us out of office in just a few weeks when the election arrives,” Lee Adama finished Zarek’s thoughts for him.
Tom snorted. “You catch on fast, Mister President.”
“He’s always been a quick study,” Admiral Adama said quietly. “We can’t run—we led the Cylons here and now they have probably added another five million innocent human lives to their scorecard. Five million, Mister President. Mister Vice-President. Lives that would not have been lost if we had chosen a different route,” he shook his head. “And billions more lie in their path—we cannot run any further and leave these people to fight our war.”
“Agreed,” said Commander Lorne as he leaned forward, “which is why I believe that we should go ahead and give him the schematics for our FTL technology.”
Tom and Lee stared at Mathias, but Adama nodded and then he smiled. “I think I know what you are suggesting, Commander.”
“Well, that’s good,” snapped Tom Zarek. “Care to explain to the rest of us just how giving him what he wants is a workable solution?”
Mathias Lorne smiled. “He’s a shark, Tom. I know his kind well—so do you. This takeover and threat is his opening bid. When it comes down to brass tacks, he’d rather have half a cake than no cake. So, we sit down in a room with him and Sinclair—rather, you and President and the Admiral sit down in a room with those two—and you hammer out an agreement. Weyland-Yutani gets exclusive rights to produce our FTL drives. With no royalties paid to us and we get to purchase those drives for our own ships at cost. In exchange, we get a prime planet for colonization and keep the rest of our technology to license out for profit. And Weyland signs off—in front of the ICC—saying we are not financially liable for the actions of the Cylons or the loss of his holdings on Cylon occupied worlds.”
There was a pause. “Even if he takes the offer, we are literally giving away a major element of our technology for very little in return,” said Lee.
And that was when Ripley—the fifth person present in the room suddenly gasped. And she grinned. “Oh, Commander. Admiral. Remind me not to play poker with the two of you.”
And Mathias—as well as Bill Adama—grinned right back.
She turned to the President and Vice-President. “I’ve been immersed in your technology since I arrived here,” she said. “And one thing has been bugging me to death—you people don’t have fusion power generators do you?”
Lee shook his head, and it was clear that he had no idea where she was going.
“That is what Major Church from Scorpia told me as well, Mister President,” she continued. “And then she and I started talking about how the devil you folks power these behemoths—and get such outstanding performance from your fighters and shuttles. We knew you used reaction mass—or we thought you did, but we also thought that your FTLs was powered by fusion generators. Which you don’t have.”
The light bulb went off in Lee’s head and he began to smile. “Tylium.”
“Exactly. We haven’t discovered tylium—and from what my discussions with Doctor Baltar,” she said with a grimace, “and Doctor Sarris seems to indicate, you people only accidently discovered those properties yourself. It was a fluke of fate that led to your exploiting this otherwise useless mineral.”
“And without tylium,” said Lee, “without the extreme concentration of energy contained in the liquid form of processed and refined tylium, our FTLs simply cannot function.”
Ripley and Mathias nodded. The Admiral leaned forward. “We can build fusion plants, Ripley,” he said, “but we have had no need to—tylium provides us with at least as much power as a fusion reactor in a smaller generator than would be possible for fusion. Albeit with the necessity to have large volumes of fuel tankage on hand. And every attempt to make FTL work without tylium has been a failure; some element in refined tylium is what makes our FTL function. But, technically speaking,” he said with a smile, “tylium is not itself part of the FTL drive technology.”
“Weyland has no clue what the composition of refined tylium is,” Mathias added. “He doesn’t know where it is found, what to look for, how to process the ore, or how to safely extract the refined tylium. We are the only ones who know that.”
“The Cylons know,” Tom pointed out, and Mathias nodded with a grimace.
Adama frowned and then he nodded. “The Guardians are not going to be sharing their technology with the people they are planning to harvest—and the Cylons that you struck a treaty with, Mister President,” he said in a tone that made it very clear he didn’t like it, “need us too much to risk losing a safe haven.”
“And if Weyland wants more?” asked Lee.
“Tell him to go frack himself?” suggested Mathias, and the Admiral snorted and Tom just smiled and shook his head.
“Convince him to take the deal, Mister President—that is now your job,” the elder Adama said. “He thinks he has us in a corner, Lee,” Bill told his son in a quiet voice. “Let him think that—and lock him into a deal that the ICC will not let him back out of before he realizes it is a trap.”
“I can do that,” said Lee as he nodded.
“I hope so,” Mathias added, “because otherwise we are between a rock and hard place, Mister President, with the slavering jaws of a ravening beast trying to pry us out.”
“Except that the civilian fleet will not understand and they will vote both us out of office in just a few weeks when the election arrives,” Lee Adama finished Zarek’s thoughts for him.
Tom snorted. “You catch on fast, Mister President.”
“He’s always been a quick study,” Admiral Adama said quietly. “We can’t run—we led the Cylons here and now they have probably added another five million innocent human lives to their scorecard. Five million, Mister President. Mister Vice-President. Lives that would not have been lost if we had chosen a different route,” he shook his head. “And billions more lie in their path—we cannot run any further and leave these people to fight our war.”
“Agreed,” said Commander Lorne as he leaned forward, “which is why I believe that we should go ahead and give him the schematics for our FTL technology.”
Tom and Lee stared at Mathias, but Adama nodded and then he smiled. “I think I know what you are suggesting, Commander.”
“Well, that’s good,” snapped Tom Zarek. “Care to explain to the rest of us just how giving him what he wants is a workable solution?”
Mathias Lorne smiled. “He’s a shark, Tom. I know his kind well—so do you. This takeover and threat is his opening bid. When it comes down to brass tacks, he’d rather have half a cake than no cake. So, we sit down in a room with him and Sinclair—rather, you and President and the Admiral sit down in a room with those two—and you hammer out an agreement. Weyland-Yutani gets exclusive rights to produce our FTL drives. With no royalties paid to us and we get to purchase those drives for our own ships at cost. In exchange, we get a prime planet for colonization and keep the rest of our technology to license out for profit. And Weyland signs off—in front of the ICC—saying we are not financially liable for the actions of the Cylons or the loss of his holdings on Cylon occupied worlds.”
There was a pause. “Even if he takes the offer, we are literally giving away a major element of our technology for very little in return,” said Lee.
And that was when Ripley—the fifth person present in the room suddenly gasped. And she grinned. “Oh, Commander. Admiral. Remind me not to play poker with the two of you.”
And Mathias—as well as Bill Adama—grinned right back.
She turned to the President and Vice-President. “I’ve been immersed in your technology since I arrived here,” she said. “And one thing has been bugging me to death—you people don’t have fusion power generators do you?”
Lee shook his head, and it was clear that he had no idea where she was going.
“That is what Major Church from Scorpia told me as well, Mister President,” she continued. “And then she and I started talking about how the devil you folks power these behemoths—and get such outstanding performance from your fighters and shuttles. We knew you used reaction mass—or we thought you did, but we also thought that your FTLs was powered by fusion generators. Which you don’t have.”
The light bulb went off in Lee’s head and he began to smile. “Tylium.”
“Exactly. We haven’t discovered tylium—and from what my discussions with Doctor Baltar,” she said with a grimace, “and Doctor Sarris seems to indicate, you people only accidently discovered those properties yourself. It was a fluke of fate that led to your exploiting this otherwise useless mineral.”
“And without tylium,” said Lee, “without the extreme concentration of energy contained in the liquid form of processed and refined tylium, our FTLs simply cannot function.”
Ripley and Mathias nodded. The Admiral leaned forward. “We can build fusion plants, Ripley,” he said, “but we have had no need to—tylium provides us with at least as much power as a fusion reactor in a smaller generator than would be possible for fusion. Albeit with the necessity to have large volumes of fuel tankage on hand. And every attempt to make FTL work without tylium has been a failure; some element in refined tylium is what makes our FTL function. But, technically speaking,” he said with a smile, “tylium is not itself part of the FTL drive technology.”
“Weyland has no clue what the composition of refined tylium is,” Mathias added. “He doesn’t know where it is found, what to look for, how to process the ore, or how to safely extract the refined tylium. We are the only ones who know that.”
“The Cylons know,” Tom pointed out, and Mathias nodded with a grimace.
Adama frowned and then he nodded. “The Guardians are not going to be sharing their technology with the people they are planning to harvest—and the Cylons that you struck a treaty with, Mister President,” he said in a tone that made it very clear he didn’t like it, “need us too much to risk losing a safe haven.”
“And if Weyland wants more?” asked Lee.
“Tell him to go frack himself?” suggested Mathias, and the Admiral snorted and Tom just smiled and shook his head.
“Convince him to take the deal, Mister President—that is now your job,” the elder Adama said. “He thinks he has us in a corner, Lee,” Bill told his son in a quiet voice. “Let him think that—and lock him into a deal that the ICC will not let him back out of before he realizes it is a trap.”
“I can do that,” said Lee as he nodded.
“I hope so,” Mathias added, “because otherwise we are between a rock and hard place, Mister President, with the slavering jaws of a ravening beast trying to pry us out.”
Last edited by masterarminas on 2013-02-10 12:37am, edited 1 time in total.
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Skywalker_T-65
- Jedi Council Member
- Posts: 2293
- Joined: 2011-08-26 03:53pm
- Location: Bridge of Battleship SDFS Missouri
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
Okay, at first I was thinking 'they just can't get a break can they?'. But then I read the last update, and all I have to say is...
Never underestimate Bill Adama and Mathias Lorne
Never underestimate Bill Adama and Mathias Lorne
SDNW5: Republic of Arcadia...Sweden in SPAAACE
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
I was thinking the same thing. And then I read some more and got a really good chuckle out of the situation.
Should be fun watching Weyland's reaction once he realizes that while they have a license for a very lucrative product (the FTL system itself), that the fuel to power it - which stands to be far more lucrative in the long run - belongs to someone else.
Very nice.
Should be fun watching Weyland's reaction once he realizes that while they have a license for a very lucrative product (the FTL system itself), that the fuel to power it - which stands to be far more lucrative in the long run - belongs to someone else.
Very nice.
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
Better go for minium royalities, if other cöorperation play the same card, they wouldn´t own anything anymore.
It ain´t really their concern anyway, they ain´t the Guardians.
Thats like making Japan pay for the war-crimes Germany did during WWII or the war-crimes the USSR, USA, ect, did in return to those two countries. (What else can you call bombing a city, but a war-crime?)
If they want to play that card, open it to ALL cöorperations at the SAME time.
This is just the first hound smelling blood, more will follow unless you trow meat into the pack, feeding one will just lure the pack towards you.
They need to nab this in the butt fast, in a way that will prevent more of the same raising up.
Maybe they can use the ICC for this, in some way, but I would use something else then the Jump-drives, if possible, since it´s a too tactical system.
Meaning that if you only sell them to the armed forces, your own cargo-ships can earn quite the buck.
Else I would go with size restrictions, nothing under a certain size and nothing above a certain size of jump-drives
This prevents those Cöoperations from building tactical missiles that jump into your fuel-tanks and so, or constructing ships the size of your battlestars or bigger.
Gimini is big enough for those Cöoperations, in regards of jump-drive tech.
Wouldn´t include the theory either, just the plans.
Btw, what was the original name of the company that created the Cylons (Guardians)?
They could simply tell them to take their problems to that company and wish them all the luck in the universe on getting their money back, if they have succes, could they also handel their claim as well?
It ain´t really their concern anyway, they ain´t the Guardians.
Thats like making Japan pay for the war-crimes Germany did during WWII or the war-crimes the USSR, USA, ect, did in return to those two countries. (What else can you call bombing a city, but a war-crime?)
If they want to play that card, open it to ALL cöorperations at the SAME time.
This is just the first hound smelling blood, more will follow unless you trow meat into the pack, feeding one will just lure the pack towards you.
They need to nab this in the butt fast, in a way that will prevent more of the same raising up.
Maybe they can use the ICC for this, in some way, but I would use something else then the Jump-drives, if possible, since it´s a too tactical system.
Meaning that if you only sell them to the armed forces, your own cargo-ships can earn quite the buck.
Else I would go with size restrictions, nothing under a certain size and nothing above a certain size of jump-drives
This prevents those Cöoperations from building tactical missiles that jump into your fuel-tanks and so, or constructing ships the size of your battlestars or bigger.
Gimini is big enough for those Cöoperations, in regards of jump-drive tech.
Wouldn´t include the theory either, just the plans.
Btw, what was the original name of the company that created the Cylons (Guardians)?
They could simply tell them to take their problems to that company and wish them all the luck in the universe on getting their money back, if they have succes, could they also handel their claim as well?
Nothing like the present.
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
Nah, they're approaching this exactly right. The Colonials know what tylium is. They know how to find it. Howto mine it. How to process and refine it. How to store it. All of these are patentable processes, which puts TWL in position to be the only corporation someone can go to for usage or leasing rights. The FTL system is what Weyland wants because of its potential. He does yet realize that the FTL is all but useless without the tylium-based infrastructure to power it.
Very slick, indeed.
Very slick, indeed.
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Eternal_Freedom
- Castellan
- Posts: 10392
- Joined: 2010-03-09 02:16pm
- Location: CIC, Battlestar Temeraire
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
This proves yet again that you i]do not[/i] underestimate and/or threaten Bill Adama.
Also, I just had an "oh shit" moment. We now have Apollo as President and Apollo as Vice President
Also, I just had an "oh shit" moment. We now have Apollo as President and Apollo as Vice President
Baltar: "I don't want to miss a moment of the last Battlestar's destruction!"
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
Graystone Industries. Though it's pretty likely that the company went bankrupt shortly after the start of the First Cylon War. A few millions lawsuits for negligence will do that. After all, the company knowingly mass-produced an AI, the inner workings of which they never actually understood. They just took what worked and replicated it. Hence why every single cylon, no matter how menial a job it was designed for, ended up being sentient enough to rebel. Presumably Earth AIs are more variable in capability than that.Vianca wrote:Btw, what was the original name of the company that created the Cylons (Guardians)?
They could simply tell them to take their problems to that company and wish them all the luck in the universe on getting their money back, if they have succes, could they also handel their claim as well?
"Only a fool expects rational behaviour from their fellow humans. Why do you expect it from a machine that humans have designed?"
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masterarminas
- Jedi Master
- Posts: 1039
- Joined: 2012-04-09 11:06pm
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
Mathias sighed and he rubbed his temples. “I cannot believe that these . . . imbeciles . . . failed to wipe the security logs. The first rule if you are going to do something as vile as this is leave no evidence,” he snapped. “Where was it?”
Sam Caldwell shook her head—and her expression was perfectly neutral. “That full inspection we completed yesterday turned it up among Admiral Cain’s personal possessions. It was all logged and sealed and stuffed in a container—the mainframe security logs were wiped, Commander. These were Cain’s personal copies, complete up to the day before her murder,” and although she didn’t allow any emotion to play on her face, the tone of her voice said it all.
Mathias snorted. “How bad are they?”
“Bad enough that I don’t want to watch them again,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve made three copies and put Cain’s original copies in my safe,” and she slid the disks in their protective cases across the table in Mathias’s office, along with a typed report that included two pages of names neatly spaced. “But I think this time we have the bastards cold, Mat.”
“How many?” Mathias asked and he steeled himself, but was surprised when Sam chuckled.
“Most of the crew may have lacked the confidence to directly act against Cain and her orders—but that didn’t mean they willingly joined in either,” she sighed. “Most of them just kept their heads down and tried to ignore what was happening. I have positively identified every single bastard that raped the prisoner—or cheered the rapists on from the cell-block. There were just sixty-seven active participants and another eighteen who served as the audience—and as advisors to the rapists, complete with requests for some exceptional perverse abuse for their amusement.”
Mathias sat back in his chair and he released a breath of relief. “Eighty-five out of a crew of one thousand seven hundred and forty-four,” he whispered. “Better than I hoped actually, Sam.”
“Far better, Sir,” she answered just as quietly. “Of those, it includes the late unlamented Lieutenant Thorn and three others who have died since Pegasus joined the Fleet. Eighty-one remain aboard this ship, however, in their duty assignments.”
She paused and Mathias stared at the painting on his bulkhead—a landscape of a home overlooking the sea. And he shook his head. “Arrest all of them—immediately,” he ordered. “Your report has them separated into the actual rapists and the voyeurs?”
Sam nodded. “With that many, the brig will be standing room only, Sir,” she noted—but did not object.
“Understood—cram them in anyway, Colonel.”
“With pleasure, Sir. Are we going to shoot them?”
Mathias paused again and he shook his head. “I need to speak with the Admiral and Lampkin before we put them on trial—I will keep one copy in my own safe, and turn the other two over to Adama and Lampkin.” He snorted. “With hard evidence, they had better have courts-martial for these bastards, Colonel—if they don’t, they are leaving my ship either on a Raptor or on a walk out of the airlock. And I can assure you that Commander Jayne will flat out refuse to allow them aboard Scorpia as well.”
“Seven of them are pilots,” she added.
“Cannot be helped—if they are willing to rape a prisoner, they are willing to rape a shipmate, or a civilian.”
“Rape isn’t a capital crime,” Sam continued. “Even presuming that we do get a trial for them and each is convicted, what are we going to do with them?”
“We will cross that bridge when we come to it, Colonel. Right now, I want all eighty-one of them taken into custody—regardless of rank or duty assignment—and held in the brig. Has Major Aisne reported aboard?”
“Two hours ago, Sir—you were sleeping.”
“Good. I want his Marines to escort you and the JAG/FCIS officers making the arrests—fully armed Marines. And Sam?”
“Yes, Commander?” she asked as she stood.
“Hands off, Sam. I do not want a single one of them getting away on a technicality because we didn’t cross our t’s and dot our i’s. Understood?”
“Crystal, Sir.”
Mathias lifted the phone on the wall. “Flight, this is the Commander. I need a Raptor to ferry me across to Galactica.” He nodded at the answer and then racked the phone. “Colonel, Pegasus is yours until I return—get these animals under lock and key.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
Sam Caldwell shook her head—and her expression was perfectly neutral. “That full inspection we completed yesterday turned it up among Admiral Cain’s personal possessions. It was all logged and sealed and stuffed in a container—the mainframe security logs were wiped, Commander. These were Cain’s personal copies, complete up to the day before her murder,” and although she didn’t allow any emotion to play on her face, the tone of her voice said it all.
Mathias snorted. “How bad are they?”
“Bad enough that I don’t want to watch them again,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve made three copies and put Cain’s original copies in my safe,” and she slid the disks in their protective cases across the table in Mathias’s office, along with a typed report that included two pages of names neatly spaced. “But I think this time we have the bastards cold, Mat.”
“How many?” Mathias asked and he steeled himself, but was surprised when Sam chuckled.
“Most of the crew may have lacked the confidence to directly act against Cain and her orders—but that didn’t mean they willingly joined in either,” she sighed. “Most of them just kept their heads down and tried to ignore what was happening. I have positively identified every single bastard that raped the prisoner—or cheered the rapists on from the cell-block. There were just sixty-seven active participants and another eighteen who served as the audience—and as advisors to the rapists, complete with requests for some exceptional perverse abuse for their amusement.”
Mathias sat back in his chair and he released a breath of relief. “Eighty-five out of a crew of one thousand seven hundred and forty-four,” he whispered. “Better than I hoped actually, Sam.”
“Far better, Sir,” she answered just as quietly. “Of those, it includes the late unlamented Lieutenant Thorn and three others who have died since Pegasus joined the Fleet. Eighty-one remain aboard this ship, however, in their duty assignments.”
She paused and Mathias stared at the painting on his bulkhead—a landscape of a home overlooking the sea. And he shook his head. “Arrest all of them—immediately,” he ordered. “Your report has them separated into the actual rapists and the voyeurs?”
Sam nodded. “With that many, the brig will be standing room only, Sir,” she noted—but did not object.
“Understood—cram them in anyway, Colonel.”
“With pleasure, Sir. Are we going to shoot them?”
Mathias paused again and he shook his head. “I need to speak with the Admiral and Lampkin before we put them on trial—I will keep one copy in my own safe, and turn the other two over to Adama and Lampkin.” He snorted. “With hard evidence, they had better have courts-martial for these bastards, Colonel—if they don’t, they are leaving my ship either on a Raptor or on a walk out of the airlock. And I can assure you that Commander Jayne will flat out refuse to allow them aboard Scorpia as well.”
“Seven of them are pilots,” she added.
“Cannot be helped—if they are willing to rape a prisoner, they are willing to rape a shipmate, or a civilian.”
“Rape isn’t a capital crime,” Sam continued. “Even presuming that we do get a trial for them and each is convicted, what are we going to do with them?”
“We will cross that bridge when we come to it, Colonel. Right now, I want all eighty-one of them taken into custody—regardless of rank or duty assignment—and held in the brig. Has Major Aisne reported aboard?”
“Two hours ago, Sir—you were sleeping.”
“Good. I want his Marines to escort you and the JAG/FCIS officers making the arrests—fully armed Marines. And Sam?”
“Yes, Commander?” she asked as she stood.
“Hands off, Sam. I do not want a single one of them getting away on a technicality because we didn’t cross our t’s and dot our i’s. Understood?”
“Crystal, Sir.”
Mathias lifted the phone on the wall. “Flight, this is the Commander. I need a Raptor to ferry me across to Galactica.” He nodded at the answer and then racked the phone. “Colonel, Pegasus is yours until I return—get these animals under lock and key.”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
Nice to see Lorne cleaning house, but I think he's showing an the naïveté of an indealist again. Sadly, humans have a well-documented ability to turn off anything resembling a conscience or sense of empathy when it comes to dealing with anything that they class as "enemy".
"Only a fool expects rational behaviour from their fellow humans. Why do you expect it from a machine that humans have designed?"
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
There are also all sorts of "Laws of Warfare" that are put into place to keep such things in (relative) check. Treatment of prisoners and things like that are quite clearly spelled out so that warfare can be "civilized" and all that. Not that real warfare is anything like that, but it's something of a "do unto others" kind of mindset.Diverball wrote:Nice to see Lorne cleaning house, but I think he's showing an the naïveté of an indealist again. Sadly, humans have a well-documented ability to turn off anything resembling a conscience or sense of empathy when it comes to dealing with anything that they class as "enemy".
The problem the Colonials ran straight into is that their enemies are literally considered to be inhuman. If you've got a machine in a cage, does that make it a prisoner? Do the Laws of Warfare apply to a machine? Colonial laws probably never actually got around to addressing that issue. And even if they had, the situation on the Pegasus (and the Galactica, to some extent) had devolved too far, too fast.
It's interesting to wonder just what a human-form Cylon actually is. The series drops some hints (Silica pathways, I believe was the term), but doesn't get much more specific. Are they engineered clones with some sort of organic nanotechnology-based enhancements? Stuff like that. Interesting stuff. Of course, that also gets to the root of the whole "man or machine" question...after all, machines typically can't get pregnant. Or can they?
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
Seems like the toasters would have the tech to build synthetic skin. Hell we almost have that now much less the synth skin they put on Bishop. So once they figure out synthetic skin exist will they just go back to killing everyone.
"There are very few problems that cannot be solved by the suitable application of photon torpedoes
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
It does seem like something that the Colonies should have developed, doesn't it? You would think that growing clones (or whatever the 12 models are) would have had something like that as a stepping stone. Kinda makes me wonder if there wasn't a reason for this discrepancy... Something environmental, perhaps.
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masterarminas
- Jedi Master
- Posts: 1039
- Joined: 2012-04-09 11:06pm
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
Mathias carefully kept all expression from his face—but inside he was grinning with pure malice of heart at the eighty-one men and women crammed into the cell that had once housed Gina Inviere. The cell where sixty-three of the Fleet officers and crew had raped her and beaten her repeatedly. The cell where another eighteen had egged the rapists on.
Admiral William Adama made no such effort—and the obvious fury and displeasure caused those closest to the glass to recoil.
High Justice Lampkin was perhaps more used to dealing with criminal scum—and his face would have suited a professional Triad player. It was utterly unreadable.
And finally, there was the President and his Vice-President: Lee Adama and Tom Zarek. And both of these were just as visibly angered and disgusted as the Admiral.
For nearly three minutes, no one said a single word, and those . . . animals on two legs caged behind the glass got more and more nervous. Finally, one of them blurted, “We have rights!”
“Rights?” snarled the Admiral. “I have spent three hours viewing footage of what you people did in this very cell—and there was plenty more to see when I finally got so disgusted I shut it off. Do not talk to me about your rights!”
Mathias’ lips twisted as the blood drained from their faces. “You erased the security footage after Cain’s death—you didn’t know she had a copy in her own safe,” he gloated.
Lampkin looked at Adama and then Lorne and he sighed before he turned back to the captives. “I have also viewed excerpts of the tapes myself—along with Commander Lorne and the President and the Vice-President. I am here to offer you a one-time deal,” he said—and the smile, the smirk, faded slowly from the face of Mathias. Intellectually, he realized this was the best way to handle the situation—in his heart, as the father of two daughters, he wanted to see all of them lined up against a wall and shot.
The High Justice continued. “If you insist on a courts-martial as is your right as serving Fleet officers and crew, it is my considered opinion that the preponderance of evidence against you will be more than adequate to get you convicted.”
“And when you are convicted,” snarled Adama, “I will hand down the maximum possible sentence—for each and every separate offense assigned to you consecutively.”
A moan went up from the captives. Colonial law held aggravated rape by a service member was punishable by up to fifteen years at hard labor—if Adama sentenced them to consecutive sentences, they would die of natural causes long before they were up for release.
“The Admiral ordered it!” one man blurted out.
“And if Helena Cain were alive today,” Lampkin declared bluntly, “she would be looking at a firing squad—or a noose. I was only obeying orders is not a legal defense, ladies and gentlemen.”
And some of the captives sank to the floor of the cell and began to cry and shake—Mathias snarled at their dismay.
“Now, I have a deal to offer each one of you—in lieu of a courts-martial,” Lampkin continued in an even voice, “In exchange for a plea of guilty, I will sentence each and every one of you who committed an act of rape to fifteen years at hard labor for each offense—sentences to be served concurrently. Fifteen years, ladies and gentlemen—or the rest of your natural lives. Your choice.”
“Some of us didn’t rape that Cylon!” another cried out, and Lampkin smiled.
“No. You just engaged in a criminal conspiracy to commit aggravated rape and assault upon a prisoner in your custody. Despite fervent pleas for me to sentence you to the same,” and he glanced sideways at Mathias, “I will instead sentence those of you who did not physically touch Gina Inviere with twelve years per offense—once again concurrently.”
“Just three years difference?” the woman wailed.
Lampkin shrugged. “You can reject the plea deal and stand a courts-martial—I am not forcing this deal down your throat.”
And there was silence.
Until Adama spoke. “Personally, I hope that some of you are stupid enough to reject this offer.”
And then he turned and left, with the rest of the Colonial officers, jurists, and politicians trailing in his wake.
Admiral William Adama made no such effort—and the obvious fury and displeasure caused those closest to the glass to recoil.
High Justice Lampkin was perhaps more used to dealing with criminal scum—and his face would have suited a professional Triad player. It was utterly unreadable.
And finally, there was the President and his Vice-President: Lee Adama and Tom Zarek. And both of these were just as visibly angered and disgusted as the Admiral.
For nearly three minutes, no one said a single word, and those . . . animals on two legs caged behind the glass got more and more nervous. Finally, one of them blurted, “We have rights!”
“Rights?” snarled the Admiral. “I have spent three hours viewing footage of what you people did in this very cell—and there was plenty more to see when I finally got so disgusted I shut it off. Do not talk to me about your rights!”
Mathias’ lips twisted as the blood drained from their faces. “You erased the security footage after Cain’s death—you didn’t know she had a copy in her own safe,” he gloated.
Lampkin looked at Adama and then Lorne and he sighed before he turned back to the captives. “I have also viewed excerpts of the tapes myself—along with Commander Lorne and the President and the Vice-President. I am here to offer you a one-time deal,” he said—and the smile, the smirk, faded slowly from the face of Mathias. Intellectually, he realized this was the best way to handle the situation—in his heart, as the father of two daughters, he wanted to see all of them lined up against a wall and shot.
The High Justice continued. “If you insist on a courts-martial as is your right as serving Fleet officers and crew, it is my considered opinion that the preponderance of evidence against you will be more than adequate to get you convicted.”
“And when you are convicted,” snarled Adama, “I will hand down the maximum possible sentence—for each and every separate offense assigned to you consecutively.”
A moan went up from the captives. Colonial law held aggravated rape by a service member was punishable by up to fifteen years at hard labor—if Adama sentenced them to consecutive sentences, they would die of natural causes long before they were up for release.
“The Admiral ordered it!” one man blurted out.
“And if Helena Cain were alive today,” Lampkin declared bluntly, “she would be looking at a firing squad—or a noose. I was only obeying orders is not a legal defense, ladies and gentlemen.”
And some of the captives sank to the floor of the cell and began to cry and shake—Mathias snarled at their dismay.
“Now, I have a deal to offer each one of you—in lieu of a courts-martial,” Lampkin continued in an even voice, “In exchange for a plea of guilty, I will sentence each and every one of you who committed an act of rape to fifteen years at hard labor for each offense—sentences to be served concurrently. Fifteen years, ladies and gentlemen—or the rest of your natural lives. Your choice.”
“Some of us didn’t rape that Cylon!” another cried out, and Lampkin smiled.
“No. You just engaged in a criminal conspiracy to commit aggravated rape and assault upon a prisoner in your custody. Despite fervent pleas for me to sentence you to the same,” and he glanced sideways at Mathias, “I will instead sentence those of you who did not physically touch Gina Inviere with twelve years per offense—once again concurrently.”
“Just three years difference?” the woman wailed.
Lampkin shrugged. “You can reject the plea deal and stand a courts-martial—I am not forcing this deal down your throat.”
And there was silence.
Until Adama spoke. “Personally, I hope that some of you are stupid enough to reject this offer.”
And then he turned and left, with the rest of the Colonial officers, jurists, and politicians trailing in his wake.
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masterarminas
- Jedi Master
- Posts: 1039
- Joined: 2012-04-09 11:06pm
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
“Commander!” shouted one of the officers of Pegasus as Mathias walked from CIC to his quarters. He stopped and turned around and frowned as Captain Myklos Zahn—one of his engineers—stormed forward.
“Yes, Captain?”
“You just had to dig through everything—and take the side of that Cylon bitch! Couldn’t let it go, oh no, not the high and mighty Commander Lorne! Never mind that we need those people to run this ship!”
Crew in the corridors stopped and stared as Mathias worked his jaw. “Captain Zahn,” he finally replied, “I suggest that unless you want to find yourself in the brig, you button it right now, Mister. This isn’t about the Cylon—it is about how we as a people conduct ourselves. I will not tolerate a rapist on this ship—on any ship that I command. Now, if you have a problem with that, speak with Colonel Caldwell—she will arrange a transfer to another vessel. But while you are here,” Mathias took a step forward and stared at the officer in his eyes, “on this ship, under my command, this incident had best never be repeated. Do you understand me?”
“Do you understand that my brother is among those you just had sentenced to fifteen years!” Zahn thundered. “My kid brother! The only kin I have left in this entire universe, you son of a bitch!”
Mathias shook his head. “Crewman,” he ordered to one of the enlisted men standing and staring at the confrontation in horror. “Summon the Master-at-arms—spending a few a hours in the brig might let you cool down, Mister Zahn,” he continued as he turned his gaze back on the distraught engineer. “I am sorry for your personal loss—but as to being the one who made damn certain your brother and the others are punished for their crimes? I have no regrets over that, Mister.”
The commander turned and he began to walk away, as Zahn stood there, his jaw working and his face a crimson red of anger and loss and frustration, and then someone shouted.
“GUN!”
There was a thundering BANG—and Mathis stumbled and fell forward as a red-hot bolt of pain and agony stabbed him from behind. And the world faded to black.
“Yes, Captain?”
“You just had to dig through everything—and take the side of that Cylon bitch! Couldn’t let it go, oh no, not the high and mighty Commander Lorne! Never mind that we need those people to run this ship!”
Crew in the corridors stopped and stared as Mathias worked his jaw. “Captain Zahn,” he finally replied, “I suggest that unless you want to find yourself in the brig, you button it right now, Mister. This isn’t about the Cylon—it is about how we as a people conduct ourselves. I will not tolerate a rapist on this ship—on any ship that I command. Now, if you have a problem with that, speak with Colonel Caldwell—she will arrange a transfer to another vessel. But while you are here,” Mathias took a step forward and stared at the officer in his eyes, “on this ship, under my command, this incident had best never be repeated. Do you understand me?”
“Do you understand that my brother is among those you just had sentenced to fifteen years!” Zahn thundered. “My kid brother! The only kin I have left in this entire universe, you son of a bitch!”
Mathias shook his head. “Crewman,” he ordered to one of the enlisted men standing and staring at the confrontation in horror. “Summon the Master-at-arms—spending a few a hours in the brig might let you cool down, Mister Zahn,” he continued as he turned his gaze back on the distraught engineer. “I am sorry for your personal loss—but as to being the one who made damn certain your brother and the others are punished for their crimes? I have no regrets over that, Mister.”
The commander turned and he began to walk away, as Zahn stood there, his jaw working and his face a crimson red of anger and loss and frustration, and then someone shouted.
“GUN!”
There was a thundering BANG—and Mathis stumbled and fell forward as a red-hot bolt of pain and agony stabbed him from behind. And the world faded to black.
Last edited by masterarminas on 2013-02-12 08:23am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
If Colonial law never got around to ruling on the issue, then Lampkin might have a difficult job prosecuting the Pegasus crew (which may be why he is offering plea bargains and hoping that none of them are smart enough to see through the situation or demand an attorney - which is in itself highly legally dubious). If the law did not recognise Gina as a living, sentient being with rights at the time she was assaulted, but at best an animal and at worst a machine, then in a strict legal sense, it wasn't rape. Conduct Unbecoming an Officer maybe, but not Rape. Even that might be difficult to make stick, since they were following the direct orders of their lawful superior; and if those orders were not illegal, but merely distasteful, they would still have been obliged to follow them.MondoMage wrote:The problem the Colonials ran straight into is that their enemies are literally considered to be inhuman. If you've got a machine in a cage, does that make it a prisoner? Do the Laws of Warfare apply to a machine? Colonial laws probably never actually got around to addressing that issue. And even if they had, the situation on the Pegasus (and the Galactica, to some extent) had devolved too far, too fast.
Even if Colonial law does now recognise synthetics as people, with rights (which must have been very recent, or else imprisoning Bishop without due process would have been blatantly illegal), applying criminal laws retrospectively is generally frowned upon, and is explicitly forbidden in most legal systems. And of course, if the law is applied retrospectively, then does that not mean that Gina is now criminally liable for the sabotage and espionage she committed aboard Pegasus? She was an enemy combatant not wearing a recognised uniform, after all, and a party to a boarding action that took hundreds of lives.
Last edited by Diverball on 2013-02-13 06:16am, edited 4 times in total.
"Only a fool expects rational behaviour from their fellow humans. Why do you expect it from a machine that humans have designed?"
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
The little brother may be getting 15 years hard labor, but big brother just earned himself a firing squad. Attempted murder of a Fleet Officer? They have no choice but to punish this as hard as possible, or else they run the risk of losing control altogether. Don't like your CO? Just shoot him/her.
Although I have to wonder if Mathias will find this to be a good reason to maybe tone down his command style a bit. The warning signs were there, and he just bulled right through them. There are ways to be adamant without being quite so much of a dick about it
Although I have to wonder if Mathias will find this to be a good reason to maybe tone down his command style a bit. The warning signs were there, and he just bulled right through them. There are ways to be adamant without being quite so much of a dick about it
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Eternal_Freedom
- Castellan
- Posts: 10392
- Joined: 2010-03-09 02:16pm
- Location: CIC, Battlestar Temeraire
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
I love the line about Adama's rage making the prisoners recoil from the glass.
Well at least that last section should satisfy the people saying Lorne had it too easy. Also, did Sam Caldwell get promoted to Commander or was that a typo?
Well at least that last section should satisfy the people saying Lorne had it too easy. Also, did Sam Caldwell get promoted to Commander or was that a typo?
Baltar: "I don't want to miss a moment of the last Battlestar's destruction!"
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
They might be willing to give him mitigating circumstances and take death off the table but he will either spend the rest of his life in jail or lead a suicide mission to regain his honor.MondoMage wrote:The little brother may be getting 15 years hard labor, but big brother just earned himself a firing squad. Attempted murder of a Fleet Officer? They have no choice but to punish this as hard as possible, or else they run the risk of losing control altogether. Don't like your CO? Just shoot him/her.
Although I have to wonder if Mathias will find this to be a good reason to maybe tone down his command style a bit. The warning signs were there, and he just bulled right through them. There are ways to be adamant without being quite so much of a dick about it
"There are very few problems that cannot be solved by the suitable application of photon torpedoes
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
I was thinking something along the same lines. The military has no real choice in the matter - an offense of this nature has to be dealt with swiftly and harshly, or else they run a real risk of a breakdown in discipline. Considering their circumstances, that would be disastrous.dragon wrote:They might be willing to give him mitigating circumstances and take death off the table but he will either spend the rest of his life in jail or lead a suicide mission to regain his honor.
However, if Mathias were to push for a relative lessening of the sentence - recommending against execution, for example, in lieu of something distinctively unpleasant but, say, less lethal (can't really think of a good word here) - it would be a way for Mathias to show the crew of Pegasus that while he can be a ruthless frakker when he needs to be, he can also be of the "firm but fair" persuasion. The crew of the Scorpia knows this, of course, due to the long service they had. The crew of Pegasus only know him as the taskmaster who cares more for the welfare of Cylons then he appears to care for that of the crew. Mathias - like any good Commander - has the crew's best interests at heart, but he needs some way to prove it to them, to show them that what Cain allowed to happen during her tenure wasn't in their best interest. Torturing prisoners, leaving civilians to die in space... the road that the Pegasus has been traveling has been a particularly dark one. He needs the crew of Pegasus to see that, to believe it, and to make the decision to change it. This may well be his best opportunity to accomplish it.
Assuming, of course, that he doesn't die from the gunshot.
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Eternal_Freedom
- Castellan
- Posts: 10392
- Joined: 2010-03-09 02:16pm
- Location: CIC, Battlestar Temeraire
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
If Adama can survive two rounds in the chest at point blank range, Lorne can survive one shot in the back from a further distance.
Baltar: "I don't want to miss a moment of the last Battlestar's destruction!"
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
All depends on what the bullet does or doesn't hit on it's way through. As long as nothing vital is damaged, a person can survive a lot of punishment - wasn't there a home intruder in the news not too long ago, got shot like 5-6 times and walked out of the house? But nick an artery, and you bleed out in minutes. Luck of the draw, I suppose (no pun intended)Eternal_Freedom wrote:If Adama can survive two rounds in the chest at point blank range, Lorne can survive one shot in the back from a further distance.
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Eternal_Freedom
- Castellan
- Posts: 10392
- Joined: 2010-03-09 02:16pm
- Location: CIC, Battlestar Temeraire
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
I was about to say that MA never kills principal characters....then I remembered Khan Kirov and saKhan Ben-Shurion from Scorpio Ascendant.
Baltar: "I don't want to miss a moment of the last Battlestar's destruction!"
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)
There's definitely more uncertainty about his characters than most. He doesn't seem to shy away from killing someone off if that's what the story demands, unlike some stories where the "cliffhangers" tend to be somewhat toothless because you just know that the character in danger isn't actually going to die. In this case, well, there's definitely no certainty that Mathias isn't a goner. I can't wait for the next update... of course, it probably won't be resolved quite that quickly. MA is nothing if not a sadistic son-of-a-gun in that regard. 