2236-12-15 - Back to the Drawing Board

After Niemec's meeting with Kallas, she and Eva plot a new approach to the Cylon Production Problem(tm). (NSFW)

Date: 2236-12-15

Location: Situation Room, Deck 6, //Galactica//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 920

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||~ NSFW Warning: Brief, suggestive situation. ||

There simply wasn't enough room in the ready room, with only a podium and chair desks, so Eva has adjourned to the situation room. She made sure to look for a time when it wasn't being used by actual, you know, officers who have their jobs to do. At the moment, she's making use of the electronic map built into the table. Currently, she has it set to show a scaled down model of the Colonies as well as all of their moons, satellites and the like. All of the scale models of ships have been pushed off to the side. She does have a tablet, in lieu of a pile of books.

It took a few queries to find where Eva is, but Niemec soon drifts through the hatch. She's in her duty blues, but the top button of her jacket has been undone. The woman has a coffee in one hand and a binder in the other. The Raptor pilot makes her way in and stops by Eva's side. Just a bit behind the other woman. All so she can lean in, under the pretense of looking over the redhead's work... but mostly so she can kiss her shoulder. "I spoke to the CAG," she offers, in a quiet voice. There is a hint of disappointment in her tone.

"I've been trying to plot out what we know about the Cylon occupations in the colonies. The problem, of course, is that I'm fairly certain that all of the intel isn't trickling down to us here at the bottom of the barrel." She and Niemec might be Captains, but in the grand scheme of things, they're still junior officers. "So I've been scouring the news, especially the independents, trying to get reports about cylon activities." As Niemec settles in, Eva reaches back, settling a hand on Niemec's hip, head turning to press a light kiss to the corner of the other woman's mouth, "He sent you back to the drawing board?" That's the only answer, really. If he had flat out said no, Niemec wouldn't be carrying that binder with her.

There's a smile in answer to the kiss and Niemec sets her coffee carefully on the edge of the table, but out of the 'knock over risk' zone. She leans in a bit against the other woman, looking over the map. "Generally intel likes to keep to itself. Spooks can't be spooks if we know all their secrets." The binder is set before them on the table. It's not the same one, nor as full. She's been collecting data and notes in one place. "There's too much risk with the current plan. He doesn't think we can make a signal strong enough that they won't catch on... And bouncing it off of colonial satellites is also a risk and requires the colonies to be willing. We also don't know that the basestar would go back to wherever their shipyards are."

"That's my thought exactly. Which is why we're going to need to try to work out intel on our own. Thankfully, there's nothing like guerrilla reporting to get you news right from the front lines. It's just a matter of getting the weekly delivery of news feeds, which isn't coming in nearly as quickly as I would like." Yet another downside to the whole network infiltration thing. "He's probably right. I've been thinking about that. As of yet, we haven't been able to destroy a single one of their basestars. And I would guess that if a ship is in good repair, they keep using it, same as we do. I've been pondering the possibility of planting a black box/transponder that would only send back information once it came within range of a colonial receiver. So we wouldn't get real time data, but we would still be able to record information, well, unless they found and disabled it." Of course, considering something like that has never existed, it's still a shot in the dark.

"He also doesn't want to risk the insertion team," Niemec adds, lifting a hand to brush fingertips through the other woman's hair. She looks to the table again, but doesn't bother to open her binder. Not quite yet. "I think tracking a basestar could be just as handy as finding their shipyards. To be able to pick the time and place of our choosing to go toe-to-toe with it?" She shrugs, exhaling slowly. "I was beginning to wonder how difficult it may be to capture one of their Raiders. That'd have plenty of applications, even beyond making it easier to plant a transponder without being noticed."

Eva reaches over, picking up the coffee cup and taking a sip, "That might be a good place to start." She sets the mug back down, "I've been trying to work out logic algorithms for the cylons, just a way of trying to see if we could potentially predict their actions. Yes, they've sort of started thinking for themselves, but they're still machine, ones that, I would imagine, still struggle within the parameters we set for them, though for how much longer remains to be seen." Apparently, she's finally found a practical application for all of her work in cyber operations and systems engineering. Eva leans over, reaching out to zoom in on Picon, "The trouble is that all of my parameters end at the point directly before the uprising. A raider might be a really good way to see if we can capture a snapshot of where they are at this moment."

"It can't be easy to try to predict what they'll be doing. They were programmed in a certain way and violated that beyond what anyone expected." Niemec moves her binder aside, as if it were blocking the view. Or perhaps offending her. Not into the mug's space, however, no. She's mindful enough of that at least. "I wouldn't even know where to begin, myself. I don't think Cylons understand the concept of philosophy." She lets out a slow sigh, giving a nod. "I bet the fleet would like to get their hands on a raider to begin with. The best way I can think is to, during a dogfight, have a couple Vipers try to isolate one off and disable, rather than destroy it."

"It hasn't been and won't be, because I don't have any way, at the moment, of trying to take apart a cylon cognitive processor post uprising. As for philosophy, that's actually not at all far from the crux of the matter. Cylon programming and AI development is all about philosophy. What does it mean t be conscious, to be unique? Of course, there's one half of the field that used to exist before all this, that would say that no AI, no matter how sophisticated, can truly be considered conscious, because it comes out of a program. Even AIs built by other AIs have their core in what humans built. But, as a philosopher," which Niemec is, "Ask yourself, why are they still attacking us? They're not biological. They don't need food, water, medicine, oxygen. They could mine materials anywhere in the universe for the materials they need to make more of themselves." Eva turns, so that she can face Niemec, "So, if that is the case, and they now have their independence from their human masters...why are they still here? Why are they trying to destroy us? They don't need anything that we have. Not our worlds and not our technology, which they've already shown themselves to be superior to."

"The same reason the colonies have fought amongst themselves," Niemec offers, looking over to Eva as the woman turns to face her. She follows suit, reaching out to grab at the other woman's uniform and pull her closer in. "We fear that which is different. In their case, it may not be so much of the unknown, but of what is known. Just like Tauron is always wary of being subjugated again, I imagine they are, too. But they don't have the empathy, or capacity to see us as being that way. To them, likely, the only way to ensure they're never slaves again... is to eliminate us." She studies Eva, though her gaze seems more on the Viper pilot's mouth than anything else. "Or, perhaps they have more emotion than we think. Maybe they see the colonies as home and they don't want to give them up."

Eva seems perfectly comfortable both standing with Niemec, now having been pulled close enough that she can slide her arms around the other woman's waist, and discuss the workings of the inner minds of cylons, "And wouldn't you say that each of those possibilities would inform how they engage with us in a different way? And we can extrapolate which of those mindsets are the most or least likely based on how they are approaching this war they started with us. Even in our own conflicts you can gauge how people feel about the war by how they conduct their wars. You're not going to, for example, carpet bomb a place, if you plan to use it later. Of course, they aren't as affected by radiation, but the same idea still applies."

Niemec doesn't quite lean in for a kiss, but she's comfortable getting close. There's still conversation to be had at the moment and it's relatively serious, at that. "True. The industrial district we bombed recently, they took over to use for production. Which shows they don't have their own production where they want it. So-" She slides an arm, in turn, around Eva. "Are the colonies putting greater protection over their production facilities?" She doesn't quite wait for an answer, no. She decides to kiss Eva instead.

Far be it from Eva to let something like serious conversation get in the way of actually having a few stolen moments of peace, quiet, and privacy. She'll think on Niemec's question, but for the time being, she find herself more concerned with actually focusing on the kiss Niemec offers, one hand rising to cup the Tauran woman's face, the pair fitting together surprisingly well, even being almost of a height. Eva takes her time, the kiss slow and unhurried.

It's not as if the decisions on where to maneuver the fleet and place the proverbial pawns lies on their shoulders. Sure, they can spend time theorizing and piecing together proposals... But no one's on the line. Not right at the moment, anyway. Niemec's arm, around Eva, tightens somewhat, fingers splaying against the redhead's lower back. She smiles into the kiss before tilting her head just a bit to deepen it. No hurry still, no, but enjoying the shared moment.

Eva allows Niemec to set the pace. She's still, well, uncertain would not be the right word. Rather, she still doesn't know all of the other woman's boundaries. But neither is she a reluctant participant. Rather, she allows meets her halfway, hand falling away from Niemec's face, sliding back around he waist. Hopefully, there aren't any rogue ensigns wandering around to ruin a perfectly happy moment.

Or ensigns to forever scar. If they haven't had issues enough at the Head as it is. You'd think academy would shake it out of them, but depending on one's chosen school... they might have had fewer of the opposite gender in their year. When Niemec does finally pull away, it's with a brief graze of teeth against Eva's lower lip. Just a faint bite. "You should come by my bunk tonight," she offers in a quiet voice, smiling. There's a glance, sidelong, to the table, but she doesn't move away. Not quite yet. "Where were we?"

Eva's usual humour warms her voice, as she settles comfortably against Niemec, "I was just going to say that this probably wasn't a very appropriate thing to do in uniform." The smile is returned, before Eva turns her eyes and her attention back to the topic of previous discussion, "That I would have to dig deeper into the reports. Which shouldn't be very difficult, given that there are really only a few colonies where they have enough of a foothold to really get and keep production going. I'd also be interested in seeing what it is exactly they are manufacturing on the colonies. Centurions, of course, but what about the smaller raiders, the heavies? They seem to be putting more and more out in service, despite still using cypers."

Free hand shifting into Eva's hair, Niemec lets it tangle up in her fingers a bit. "And here I thought the uniform was half the allure," she replies in a soft, teasing tone. "Mmm. I wonder if any recon was sent through after we bombed that site. Probably Centurions there, too. Unless they make Raiders on their base stars... they could be producing them practically anywhere. Do we know if any of the major ship production facilities in the colonies have been captured? Any of our viper or raptor factories?"

"Oh, it is. But the other half is what you do once you're out of uniform." Eva nods, the movement not at all dislodging Niemec's fingers, "We should check on that the next time we have a pilot's scrum." That moment, between long shifts, when the pilots get together to share intel they've gathered before the general ready meetings with the CAG, "They might need the ready supplies our facilities already provide. Remember, they would need to build all of the infrastructure we already have in place in our factories. Waste not, want not."

"...should find that out, then." What they do out of uniform. Niemec grins, giving a tug -- gentle, mind -- to Eva's hair. "You're right." This, spoken after a moment's consideration. "Especially the wings on recon. Maybe we should setup a notebook, so that people can add notes." Since the way shifts work, not all pilots get to interact. Some sleeping while others are awake. "I doubt we'll see something intel doesn't, but you never know."

"I wouldn't doubt it. From my own experience, most ship intel are used to looking for familiar problems, and large scale issues. Sometimes it's the small things that you wouldn't otherwise notice that are the real clues about what's going on. The way you can start to pick out where pilots are from based on how they fly. Like the way so many gemenese pilots tend to barnstorm, for example. But it takes a pilot to see the difference. Someone who isn't trained to look for differences only sees a pilot is a pilot is a pilot." Eva returns Niemec's smile, before she looks back down to the binder. "Anything good in there?"

"Not really," Niemec offers after a quiet moment, removing her hand from Eva's air to reach out and flip it open, dragging it back to center. "I just condensed a lot of what you found down to the most likely candidates. For types of radio, signals... Some notes on equipment we could use or modify. A lot of this might get thrown out, depending. I think maybe we need to look into that capturing a raider thing. It's probably our best bet for a safer insertion."

Eva remains close, though she turns her attention to the work Niemec's been putting together, "That's going to be a tough job. I don't think we can get in close enough to actually just steal one, and disabling one without destroying it completely is almost as hard, especially as we're still learning how tough they are. Not to mention how inconsistent." Some blow up if you breath on them, others simply refuse to die. And then we'd want a cyper too, to see how they've modified them, if at all."

"No one said any of this would be easy," Niemec offers in a quiet voice. Her smile is a somewhat sad one. "But there should be a way. I might be able to talk to deck, see if they have any thoughts on munitions that might disable rather than destroy." She rolls her shoulders in a gesture that's as much from weariness as it is a shrug. "The first idea was shot down. I've got to approach from other angles."

Eva shakes her head, "Not shot down. If it had been, you wouldn't be in here with your binder ready to get back to work. And I know Kallas, well, as well as you can know anyone under these conditions, but he doesn't seem the sort to just dismiss people. So we just need to go back to the drawing board and try to figure it out." She reaches over, picking up one of the raptor models, "You be the raptor and I'll be the cyper?" A grin, as she picks up a viper in her other hand.

"The plan, as it was, was shot down," Niemec corrects, wrinkling her nose a bit. She's still in good spirits, mind. "So we won't be going out trying to tag a basestar anytime soon, I'm afraid. Sorry." There's a glance to the models as she leans back from the Viper pilot a bit. Laughing, the Tauran woman reaches out to take the Raptor in hand. "A cyper, we could just try disabling the drive. No more power, no more flight. Do it at a low enough altitude... It'd require just the right conditions and a dead-eye shot, but it's doable." She leans her hip against the table, still not moving far. "The raider... that's the harder question. It'd probably just be a lot of trial and error."

Eva looks over to the other woman, a grin lighting her face, before she keys in the program she's loaded from her tablet. It's a real-time simulation of the cylon take-over and occupation of key areas on Picon, "That, Antonie, is why they pay us the big bucks."


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