EM - March 2007 - 29 - Captive
Mar. 28th, 2007 11:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
arrow_of_apollo29 - Captive
The technical name for the actual room, the cells and the bars and the hard cot and the giant hatch is "the ship's brig", while the citations regarding whatever infringement of military rule or protocol that was broken to get us into there read "confined to brig for a period of" under the "Disciplinary Action" header. That's followed, of course, by some period of time during which the unfortunate confinee is supposed to reflect upon what they've done and how they might avoid incarceration in the future.
Casually, we just call it being "in hack". Most of the time, it's more of a nuisance than a real punishment, but that's because most of the time, a soldier isn't going to see the inside of the brig for anything more serious than a D&D (that would be a citation for being publicly drunk and disorderly, something more than a few of my pilots know something about). When the crime is more serious, so is the time.
Mine, well... mine was a doozy.
Count 1: Refusal to obey the order of a superior officer.
I couldn't believe it had gotten to that point. Nobody was under any illusions that the newly-minted President of the Colonies and the newly-promoted Commander of the Fleet were seeing eye-to-eye on every single policy, but nobody expected he would order a military coup d'etat. Col. Tigh and I were sent to take the President into custody. I couldn't bring myself to do it. It wasn't right, it wasn't legal, and it wasn't necessary. So I didn't.
Count 2: Drawing a weapon on a superior officer.
Well, it wasn't as if I was just going to step aside and let Tigh and the Marine detachment just shackle and arrest Laura Roslin as if she were no more than a common criminal. I knew it had to be stopped, and there was no other choice than to make my point as forcefully and emphatically as possible. That, unfortunately, meant drawing my sidearm and holding it on Tigh, demanding we stand down and leave Colonial One. If the President hadn't surrendered, then my brains would probably have been blown across the room.
Instead of preserving the democratic structure of our society, the coup went on as ordered, and now both the President and I were taken in chains back to Galactica. That was when my father was shot by the Cylon infiltrator. I've never felt so helpless as I did, standing in that brig, my father's blood on my hands, wondering if Doc Cottle was going to be able to save him.
Paramedic Ishay was able to save him, which at least gave me some peace of mind. That, Kara's absence and the constant Cylon threat gave me the space to maneuver myself into a deal: I'd continue to fly and serve as CAG, and when off duty, in was back in hack. It worked for a while. And then, Colonel Tigh declared martial law, and all I could see was the fleet destroying itself. We needed our leader back, and the balance that came from having both a military and a civilian structure.
Count 3: Escaping from confinement.
Counts 4: Assisting in the escape of a military prisoner.
Count 5: Theft of military property.
Count 6: Suborning dissention in the ranks.
Count 7: Compromise of military integrity.
This was the big one. I might have gotten a little help-- not that I would tell anyone who that would be, if it were true-- but the plan was mine from start to finish. Roslin's new friendship with Marine Cpl. Venner would get her out of her cell while I was finishing my duties. We would get from the brig to the flight deck where a Raptor supposedly being used by Doc Cottle was waiting to take us off Galactica and into the fleet. Once out there, we would meet up with Tom Zarek, whose contacts would ensure our safe hiding until we were ready.
Kara returned with the Arrow of Apollo (no relation), and off we all went to Kobol. And when I say "we all", I mean Roslin and myself, along with more than a third of the civilian fleet. And I hear more than a few of the crew aboard that battleship wanted to do the same.
As it turned out, once all was said and done, I didn't spend a single extra minute in hack for Counts 3 through 7, although I pretty much should have been dishonorably discharged somewhere around Count 2. But I'm never going to look at the brig the same way again, I guarantee that. I may have had an easy time of it, all things considered, but... just a little is more than enough.
(796)
The technical name for the actual room, the cells and the bars and the hard cot and the giant hatch is "the ship's brig", while the citations regarding whatever infringement of military rule or protocol that was broken to get us into there read "confined to brig for a period of" under the "Disciplinary Action" header. That's followed, of course, by some period of time during which the unfortunate confinee is supposed to reflect upon what they've done and how they might avoid incarceration in the future.
Casually, we just call it being "in hack". Most of the time, it's more of a nuisance than a real punishment, but that's because most of the time, a soldier isn't going to see the inside of the brig for anything more serious than a D&D (that would be a citation for being publicly drunk and disorderly, something more than a few of my pilots know something about). When the crime is more serious, so is the time.
Mine, well... mine was a doozy.
Count 1: Refusal to obey the order of a superior officer.
I couldn't believe it had gotten to that point. Nobody was under any illusions that the newly-minted President of the Colonies and the newly-promoted Commander of the Fleet were seeing eye-to-eye on every single policy, but nobody expected he would order a military coup d'etat. Col. Tigh and I were sent to take the President into custody. I couldn't bring myself to do it. It wasn't right, it wasn't legal, and it wasn't necessary. So I didn't.
Count 2: Drawing a weapon on a superior officer.
Well, it wasn't as if I was just going to step aside and let Tigh and the Marine detachment just shackle and arrest Laura Roslin as if she were no more than a common criminal. I knew it had to be stopped, and there was no other choice than to make my point as forcefully and emphatically as possible. That, unfortunately, meant drawing my sidearm and holding it on Tigh, demanding we stand down and leave Colonial One. If the President hadn't surrendered, then my brains would probably have been blown across the room.
Instead of preserving the democratic structure of our society, the coup went on as ordered, and now both the President and I were taken in chains back to Galactica. That was when my father was shot by the Cylon infiltrator. I've never felt so helpless as I did, standing in that brig, my father's blood on my hands, wondering if Doc Cottle was going to be able to save him.
Paramedic Ishay was able to save him, which at least gave me some peace of mind. That, Kara's absence and the constant Cylon threat gave me the space to maneuver myself into a deal: I'd continue to fly and serve as CAG, and when off duty, in was back in hack. It worked for a while. And then, Colonel Tigh declared martial law, and all I could see was the fleet destroying itself. We needed our leader back, and the balance that came from having both a military and a civilian structure.
Count 3: Escaping from confinement.
Counts 4: Assisting in the escape of a military prisoner.
Count 5: Theft of military property.
Count 6: Suborning dissention in the ranks.
Count 7: Compromise of military integrity.
This was the big one. I might have gotten a little help-- not that I would tell anyone who that would be, if it were true-- but the plan was mine from start to finish. Roslin's new friendship with Marine Cpl. Venner would get her out of her cell while I was finishing my duties. We would get from the brig to the flight deck where a Raptor supposedly being used by Doc Cottle was waiting to take us off Galactica and into the fleet. Once out there, we would meet up with Tom Zarek, whose contacts would ensure our safe hiding until we were ready.
Kara returned with the Arrow of Apollo (no relation), and off we all went to Kobol. And when I say "we all", I mean Roslin and myself, along with more than a third of the civilian fleet. And I hear more than a few of the crew aboard that battleship wanted to do the same.
As it turned out, once all was said and done, I didn't spend a single extra minute in hack for Counts 3 through 7, although I pretty much should have been dishonorably discharged somewhere around Count 2. But I'm never going to look at the brig the same way again, I guarantee that. I may have had an easy time of it, all things considered, but... just a little is more than enough.
(796)
