2237-06-12 - Beachhead

Ryan approaches Abigail with news...and a mission.

Date: 2237-06-12

Location: Ryan's Office, then Officer Country, //Vanguard//

Related Scenes: None

Plot: None

Scene Number: 1125

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Ryan is in his office, at his desk. Another crewman is just leaving, apparently a meeting having just finished up. He passed word via Gunny Mercer for Abigail to report to him.

Abigail came as quickly as her duties allowed. But when it's the Colonel requesting your presence, and your NCO telling you to hump your ass up a deck or two...well, you sort of get there quick. So Abby's there, as the crewman before her steps out, and she lifts a hand to rap on the edge of the hatch, to announce her presence.

Ryan looks up at the rap, recognition flashing in the way it does when you're expecting someone and they turn up. "Ah, Walker." Rather than inviting her in, he rises from the desk. "Walk with me." He motions for her to head back out into the navy office area. "How're you holding up?"

Abigail steps back, allowing room for Ryan to step out, before she falls into line and step with him, "Oh, I'm alright, Sir. Made it back from the mission in one piece, which is a hell of a lot better than, well, pretty much everyone except Calhoun, and we managed to stumble across the finish line. So not a win, but a successful attempt." A moment of silence, "It's hard. Being here. Picon isn't...how most of us expected it to be. I don't know that most of us," here she probably means the wolves who are from Picon, "realized how bad things were here."

Ryan listens attentively, nodding slightly. "I understand," he says, lips thinning. "I suppose the brass thought that it was better to keep everyone focused on the mission at hand than worrying about their homeworlds. But I don't figure getting blindsided by it does anyone much good either." Across the admin area, on the wall is an old-fashioned printed map of Picon. Colored strings secured by pins mark the boundaries of friendly and enemy territory. "I heard back from Picon defense command about your brother." He slants her a kind look. "I'm afraid it wasn't much more than you already knew. He was shot down in this area here, Cape Shediac on . They did attempt a SAR mission, but he must have had to E&E. There hasn't been any contact since."

"Sir, if you don't mind me saying." though clearly, she's saying it, so if he does mind, she'll take her lumps for it, "I sometimes feel as though the brass sometimes forgets that we're professional solders. And, for the most part, professional soldiers know how to do their jobs, even in the worst of circumstances and against the worst odds." Abigail pauses, as she comes up on the map, eyes skimming the map, taking as many mental notes as she can of the new information for how the territories, both cylon and colonial are unfolding. A glance back, as Ryan offers the report on her brother, her jaw tightening as she looks back to the map, studying the play of pins around it, "Thank you sir. I...really appreciate you making the inquiry for me." She attempts a smile, but it's thin, and doesn't meet her eyes, "I don't suppose we'll be heading that way?"

"I don't disagree, Staff Sergeant," Ryan says with a rueful smirk. "But unfortunately even my pins only go so far. Though I do have to grant their point that we have an awful lot of crew who weren't professional soldiers before all this started. Doesn't mean they need to be treated like children either, though." Ryan looks back to the map then. "There are no plans to at this time. Although... being on the coast here, the Cape is within striking range from the main continent. Sure would be nice to have some intel on the Cylon deployments in the area. See if we had a chance of driving them back off the coast, establishing a beachhead."

"At this point in the war, Sir, I don't think it matters who or what you were...before. It only matters what you're being asked to do now." There's something sad in the tone of her voice, but resigned as well. "Duty is easy, when there's no cost to it. Now there is." Abigail turns back to Ryan, her expression thoughtful, as she listens to his words, then back, again, to the map, "There might be possible sir." Abigail crouches down, so that she can gesture more easily to the map, "Most of these waters in the area share a similar seabed topography. During the monsoon season, when the winter storms are coming in, you'd usually anchor a couple of lightships in on either side of the shoals, give you some gauge to let you thread the needle to get in over the bars with the water craft. Might be possible to land a small amphibious unit, if you know where the eye is. Establish some intelligence before trying to land a larger force. The cylons are used to flying, not water-based vessels. They might not anticipate a water assault." A beat, "Assuming, between the Coast Guard and the Navy, that we still have the watercraft for it."

"I'm sure we can rustle up a zodiac," Ryan says easily. He taps the shoreline. "Insert here. Move up through the hills here to the forest, then sweep across. The boat can meet you up here. Different extraction point, less chance of the Toasters finding and camping out your insertion point." He looks at her then. "You, Mercer, and three others. You see if you can drum up some volunteers. If you find some sign of your brother, Mercer can adapt if he feels it's appropriate. But that can't jeopardize our primary mission. That work for you?"

"A Prosecutor might be easier to launch at speed from the boat, but it'd be hell to try to camouflage." She nods. The one trick Abigail's always been able to master, is the ability to compartmentalize. To separate work and duty and, well, pretty much everything else. And for the moment, she's holding on to the mission outline and only letting thought of her brother clamor on the outside of her focus, "Absolutely sir." She considers, already running through the mental short list of people with the appropriate skills for the mission, "Your orders...if we find other prisoners, refugees, or resistance?"

"Not much we can do for them with a five-man stealth team and a small boat, Walker," Ryan responds grimly. He may not like it, but that's the realities of war. "We'll have a full mission brief for the team, but in general - do what you can. Resistance may be able to provide intel or help you out. You can take along an extra radio for them on the off chance the Cylons aren't blacking out radio signals in the area, but I wouldn't hold my breath on that. Assessment is the primary objective."

Abigail doesn't seem at all put out by the order, her game face fully on, "Just wanted to make sure, Sir. It's going to be tough going in there, if we encounter people in need of assistance. it helps, if we go in there knowing just how much lead you're allowing on the rope before Mercer yanks it back." Because it'll be the Gunny who will be responsible for ensuring that the Colonel's orders are followed. "I have at least two people in mind already, sir. And a possible third, which, I hope, will cover all of our bases. I'll talk to them, and then pass them by Mercer to see what his thoughts are."

Ryan nods. "I'll leave it to you and the Gunny to get things organized. Good luck, Walker."

Abigail rises, offering a salute, even if it might not strictly be necessary. She seems intent to stay by the map and makes her notes and plans, so hopefully they won't kick her out of officer country, "Thank you sir, I'll check in with the Gunny as soon as I have some recommendations."


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