2237-06-06 - A Simple Request

Abigail takes an opportunity to ask a favour of the Colonel.

Date: 2237-06-06

Location: Somewhere

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1094

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Perhaps, in one way, the delay in departing the shipyard has been a boon. At least, it seems so, for Abigail Walker, who's been waiting for Ryan's appointment calendar to open. This has not been an easy task, given the rush of activity to get the ship under way. Finally, she's simply had to take matters into her own hands and avoiding his yeoman, finds her way at his door, knuckles rapping on the metal to announce her presence.

"Fine. I want a status report in an hour." Ryan hangs up the internal-ship phone, sighing. Then he hears the knock and looks up. "Sergeant... Walker." It takes him a second to place the face. "What can I do for you?"

Abigail remains in the door, as she hasn't been invited in, her expression set, serious, "I was hoping that I could have a few minutes of your time, and, I hope, to, not make a request, but...no, I do have a request."

Ryan waves to the seat in front of the desk. The whole request/not-request thing gets a perplexed look for a moment, but then he says, "What's on your mind?"

Abigail moves into the office, settling onto the edge of the chair, hands folded one over the other in her lap, "I...I know that we have a mission on Picon, Colonel. And that we go where you and the CF decide that we should go." A moment, to gather her thoughts, "My twin, Addison, Viper Pilot, was shot down over Picon almost six months ago, Colonel. So far as I can find out, they've stopped looking for him." Clearly, Abigail has not given up hope.

Ryan frowns at the news, but it's more of a serious, concerned frown than any measure of disapproval. "Addison Walker," he repeats. "What unit was he with? Do you know where he went down?"

"The last news I had from him, he was still flying with the No. 19, the Wildcards." She shakes her head, "I can't get any traction with his command sir. I couldn't even get word on his status, I had to find out through the damned grapevine." A beat, "My apologies, Colonel." Not that Ryan probably hasn't heard worse. "Sir...I know he's only one man, and I have no right to expect the Wolves to make him a priority. And I know that...it might bring my mission readiness into question. But please."

"Wildcards." Ryan picks up a pen and jots down some notes on a piece of paper on his desk. He nods somberly. "I'll see what I can find out. I know you know that we can't task the Wolves for a one-man SAR mission, but... I'll see what I can do."

"I know that, Sir. But we saw what the cylons were doing on Canceron, including deliberately shooting down our pilots, and I read the mission reports from the time our forces spent on Isabel Island and I've read the reports on the situation on Picon. The cylons seem to be corralling their prisoners together. And there are reports of labour camps. Possibly POWs. If there was some word...and some chance there might be a significant target in the area." It's really all she can ask.

Ryan nods. "We do know there are work camps. Haven't had any reports of specific military POW camps though. Let's find out what they know about his status, and we'll go from there, all right?" It may not be what she was hoping to hear, but it's the best the colonel can offer.

"That's much..." Abigail will be honest here, "That's much more than I was expecting, Colonel. I haven't been able to get a single drop of information from the Navy." She might be from Picon, but she's a Marine, and not a part of his command, and now with the CF, "I...my family is still on the planet. The rest of my family I mean, and I still have contacts in the Marines and Coast Guard, such as they still exist now. I want to help however I can. Whatever I can do. Whatever you need."

"Well, CF or no, not being able to get word about your own brother is frakking ridiculous." Ryan's tone, already irate over the jump drive delay, suggests he's looking for some heads to roll. "I'll let you know as soon as I find out anything." For him it's a 'when', not an 'if'.

Abigail looks down, hands tightening in her lap, the clench of her jaw sign enough that she's trying very hard not to cry or scream, or rage in front of her commanding officer. Because that would look, really, really bad. Finally, once she has herself under better control, she looks back up, managing, almost successfully, to school her expression. "Thank you, Colonel. I appreciate it." A hitch, "I...I don't know what I would do." If he were gone? Probably. But then, he's her twin. Is there any bond heavier than that? "I'm sorry. I know my situation is not unique." Certainly not on Picon, a fact the Colonel would well know, being from Picon as well. "Thank you. That was...all I wanted...to talk to you about."

Ryan nods solemnly. "I understand. And Walker - you're not alone. Plenty of us know what you're going through. My door's open, so's the Chaplain's and Doctor Anders."

Abigail nods, accepting his words, knowing that they're the truth, "I know Sir, and thank you." She forces her hands to unfold, to rise to her feet, "We're going home, Sir." If only that didn't sound quite so bleak, "I should let you get back to work, Sir."

"This is part of my work, Walker," Ryan assures her with a kind but somber smile. "We'll be home soon. Engines are nearly shipshape."

Abigail manages, almost a laugh, as she moves to depart, "If I was still a Boats, Sir, I might have been able to help with that." Well, technically, she still is, but this ship is a whole other sort of animal to what she trained on. "Permission to return to duty, Sir?"

That gets a brief smirk from the colonel, then he nods. "Carry on, Sergeant."


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