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OOC Date: March 24, 2011
IC Date: May 1, 2122

Various members of the cast meet with Secretary Mansfield and are formally assigned to the EAV Genesis.

Central Command, Washington, DC, Earth

Office of the Secretary of the Navy, deep within the Pentagon.

Central Command, Western Hemisphere. Washington, DC. Deep in the compound of the Pentagon is a waiting room for the Secretary of the Navy, and currently it has two occupants - Lieutenant Commander Dr. St-Sirois, who has been here for about 10 minutes, and now Commander Eisley, who is just walking in. The former knows why he is here, knows what his next assignment is going to be because he requested it. The latter does not. The room is elegantly furnished, feeling more like a sitting room than a waiting room, complete with plush carpeting and antique furniture from the early 21st century. At present, there is no one else in the room.

Dr. Georges St-Sirois has, naturally, come dressed to the hilt for the occasion. He wears his best dress uniform, cleaned and shined beyond the point of reason, to the degree that it almost creaks as he shifts in his seat. A pity his face hasn't got the memo, his weatherbeaten visage scrunched up into a scowl as he puts the Secretary of the Navy's waiting room to its most obvious use. Occasionally his left hand reaches up, fidgeting with the apparently brand new rank insignia on his chest. His other drums a staccato rhythm on his thigh, invoking no tune that's immediately identifiable.

One does not report to Central Command in anything but absolute perfect presentational order. This above all else is likely why Commander Eisley is shined up so much that she almost glows, why every hair on her head has been groomed, maybe gelled, and possibly threatened into laying just right. She does arrive just now and, after announcing herself at the desk, admits herself to the waiting room. There are some necessary formalities with the doctor and she goes through them by rote before finding a place to sit. He can fidget; she sits absolutely still, hands in her lap, index fingers extended and touching at the tip in a strange little steeple. It's a waiting game. It's the military, whose slogan -is- hurry up and wait. A little bit more of that cannot possibly hurt anyone, can it?

Greeting formalities observed from a junior officer to a senior, St-Sirois sits back down in his seat. Perhaps seeing the Commander's arrival as the cue, the good doctor looks at the Secretary's door, expectantly, trying to look non-plussed and completely failing. Before two minutes of passed, the good doctor is once again drumming on his thigh, intemperance getting the best of him once again. When he finally leans back in his seat, it is with an almost sulky slam of his back into the chair.
"They couldn't let us stew any longer, could they?" St-Sirois's voice boils out like a steaming volcano. Then, after a heartbeat's time, he adds, "Ma'am." Politely.

Oh, if only that were the case. Sadly, it appears both will have to endure this time in Purgatory together, since Eisley's appearance is not the trigger that magically opens the door. He can fuss; she sits quite still, almost perfectly so, eyes slipping closed as if she might pass this time in the time-honored fashion of many who have become accustomed to the time-honored tradition of waiting: by napping. Of course, when St-Sirois shatters the silence her eyes flick open, implying maybe that she had merely taken a very, very, -very- long time to blink. With conversation so invited, however, she tips her head slightly to look over at him and studies him for a moment or so before responding. "I imagine they will admit us precisely when they are ready to. I imagine the waiting would be more tolerable if I had any idea what the occasion was."

The distinctive sound of military boots clicking against the polished floors of the Pentagon echoes down the narrow corridor, growing louder as it draws close to the waiting room. The handle on the door leading into the room turns before the door swing open and First Lieutenant Dominic L'Anse enters the room. He pauses a moment as he sees two others already in the room before he makes his way to the counter to check in, followed by the smell of cigarette smoke. His uniform is within regulations, but not worn to code. The jacket of his uniform has been left unzipped, his black t-shirt underneath and dog tags exposed. After he checks in, he finds an empty seat and sits down. After a moment, he looks to the woman first and nods a greeting. "Ma'am." He then turns to the other man present and nods. "Afternoon."

St-Sirois raises one eyebrow, fractionally. "You don't know why you're here, ma'am?" the doctor asks, voice as level as ever. "I -thought- I knew why I was here but if you don't…" his voice trails off slowly. He glances down at his rank insignia, fiddling with it and turning it up into the light. Thoughtful.
When Dominic enters, St-Sirois turns abruptly within his chair. He looks over the new arrival, takes in the man's uniform, and then gives a polite nod. "Afternoon already? I arrived in the morning."

"Perhaps," suggests the Commander, "we are here for different reasons." If he knows why he's here and she doesn't… any logic behind that surely goes out the window when the door opens, and anything further that Eisley had to say is put on hold as Dominic enters. One brow drifts a teeny bit higher than the other in the moment that she spends studying him, but by and large neutrality reigns. For now. She tilts her head slightly to him in acknowledgment of sorts, then looks past him to the door. Vivid blue eyes lock on it as if willing it to open and this, too, eats up a few seconds of time before she relents and exhales a quiet sigh. "Perhaps they are merely waiting everyone to arrive." Hypothesis number two is offered with somewhat less enthusiasm.

Dominic sits quietly as he looks about the room, waiting to be called back or whatever they've got everyone waiting out here for. He idly listens to the two converse amongst each other, though remains silent until the Commander gives up her hypothesis, first one he's heard though. "You guys don't know why you're here?" He asks, an eyebrow raised slightly. He leans in his seat towards the other two, his voice lowered slightly as to not disturb the secretary as she works. He crosses his legs at the knee as he looks between the man and woman.

In walks one last person, or perhaps stalks would be a better way to put it. A tiny little wisp of a young Japanese woman is given entrance to the waiting room, and she manages to make her way to a seat in absolute silence while still conveying the slow, simmering tension of bottled up rage far more common in a Space Marine than a Navy Lieutenant. She slumps back in the seat, almost sinking into it and casts her glowering gaze over the others already assembled. She says nothing.

Dr. St-Sirois's gaze passes over each of the military sorts in the room. It lingers on the newest arrival, giving her a nod neither more nor less polite than the one with which he greeted Dominic. Then he straightens up, slowly drawing himself to his (modest) full stature within his seat. He's silent for a moment, considering the other soldiers and their situation, and while the scar over his lips make him look he's scowling his eyes are quite impassive.
Finally, the doctor puts his cards on the table. "I was expecting that I was here to receive appointment to the Genesis." He doesn't introduce the ship. "I applied as chief medical officer. Yesterday a promotion came through for me that I wasn't expecting but would fit the position, and a friend in the general staff suggested there weren't many candidates."

Mark today on the calendar, kids. This is the first - though not the last, oh no - time that Commander Eisley's composure cracks. Both brows arch upward as the doctor speaks, lending her an expression that is first one of amazement, then bewilderment, then confusion… then dismay. Really, she trickles through each of these emotions clearly in turn, and when she hits that last one brings a hand up to rub just between her eyes, as if a massive headache had struck home with his words. Thus her eyes close and her head bows and she offers but one singular word to express her comprehension of what lies behind Door #2 there. "…fuck."

Dominic nods his head as he listens to the doctor as Eisley's mind starts to work on their situation. "I see. I've volunteered to be the Head of Security on Genesis as well." He says, extending a hand towards the doctor. "Looks like we're going to be coll—" The outburst from the Commander interrupts him, a smirk forming on his lips. "Guess you've just figured out why you're here." He says with a soft chuckle.

The small Japanese girl looks over at St-Sirois when he explains why he's here, and she too undergoes a shift in composure. A completely different one. She throws her head back and explodes into a fit of laughter and helpless giggling like a little schoolgirl, far more befitting her appearance than the moody, fiery attitude she walked in with. She simply dissolves into her seat, her little feet kicking and stomping and her hands over her face.

"Aaah. Well. Congratulations." St-Sirois's congratulations are a touch wooden but, then, everything he says is a bit wooden. He stands up to shake Dominic's hand. "Dr. Charles St-Sirois. Lieutenant-Commander." He introduces himself with perfect politeness. Perhaps that's just as an alternative to a commander decomposing on one side and a seemingly microscopic woman quite literally kicking over this. He turns back towards his chair, sitting down. His elbows drop onto the armrests and he leans forward, as if suddenly very tired. He looks at Eisley, focuses on her rank insignia, and slumps forward just a little more.
"I take it the two of us are the only volunteers, First Lieutenant?" St-Sirois sweeps his gaze between the two female officers. This time his blank expression serves him well, although he tries to avoid looking at either one for too long.

Perhaps the rubbing helps to eases the sudden pain; maybe it wards it away; maybe it simply never arrived in the first place. Either way Eisley gives up that after a bit, looking first to the sudden fit of rather hysterical giggling, and then to the door as if once again willing it to open. Failing that she inhales and exhales, this helping her to regain her composure once more. This could be a shame, given how that slip proved humanity does exist under her spit-shined, pressed and dressed facade. "I suppose we cannot all be conscripts every time, can we?" Understanding does not improve her mood any, however, and for the moment she leaves introductions to the others, hands settling in her lap with white-knuckled stillness again.

Dominic nods his head and shakes the man's hand. "Dominic L'Anse." He says as an introduction." He looks towards the Japanese woman as she starts to laugh and kick, an eyebrow raising slightly at the woman's reaction. "You alright, darlin'?" He asks the girl before looking back to the Doc, nodding. "I guess so." He retracts his hand before he looks back to the Commander. "Guess not, Commander. We don't get to always pick our duty assignments." He says to her as he leans back in his seat, extending his legs to get a bit more comfortable.

Two small fists lift from the Japanese girl's face and pump into the air victoriously. "Yes!" she hisses triumphantly. She hears the doctor's observation and looks over, shaking her head and grinning brightly. "Oh /fuck/ no! I /asked/ for this shit! After spending four years of my life /building/ that big, ugly motherfucker, they fucking better assign me to it! Like any of the other dickless engineers in the service would have a fucking clue what turns that big bastard's crank. You can't just get in there and make a ship like that run. You gotta give it some foreplay, give it some love. THEN you show it who's Daddy."

"No, ma'am," St-Sirois answers the commander, a bit quietly. "We're not all conscripts. This isn't the war anymore."
A glance towards the enthusiastic young woman, a sidelong gaze as if afraid to look too directly at her. "You're the engineer, I take it?" St-Sirois injects a bit of levity into his voice, trying to brighten up the room a bit, and it sounds so uncharacteristic coming from him that he winds up with a voice like someone just stuck his hand into ice water.

Not a single one of these elements seems to be putting the Commander there at any more ease. One brow twists again at the younger woman's next outburst, this time acquiring a little bit of a curve that makes the inside dip lower than the outside. "Excellent," she says slowly. "I am somewhat relieved, then, to discover such a … willingness … among the senior crew. I can only begin to guess at what twist of administrative logic landed me with this enviable position, but it is … inspiring … to see such enthusiasm." Yes, those words are chosen with penultimate care, likely selected from whatever lexicon Eisley has on tap to pepper her speech with. It is obvious that she did not volunteer, just as it is that her rank pin is newly minted.

Dominic glances back at the Japanese woman as she speaks, chuckling softly before he looks over her uniform. "You sure you're with the Navy? You talk like a Marine." He says with a grin before he looks back to the Commander. "Well, maybe you'll get to ask for yourself whenever we get called back." He offers to the Commander, looking to the Doctor. "Were you in the war?"

"I personally think they'll just be happy to get rid of me," the Japanese engineer comments to no one in particular. "I mean, I almost washed out of Academy several times because of 'Anger Management Issues'." And yes, she even does the air quotes and rolls her eyes when she says it. "What-the-fuck-ever. But yeah, it looks like I'm your engineer. CHIEF engineer, that is. Lieutenant Commander Monoko Kurokawa. Most people call me Mono."

St-Sirois is not most people. "Nice to meet you, Lieutenant-Commander Kurokawa."
The doctor reacts to Dominic's question somewhat oddly. His upper lip twitches slightly and he looks at the marine, looking him straight in the eye. "No." His answer is like a great weight dropping from his mouth onto the floor. After a moment, he adds, "I did some volunteer work at a hospital in Tripoli but that's as close as I got." And as he explains this he watches the still-nameless commander, glancing at her at intervals even while he (sort of) explains (part of) his past to Dominic. He seems as worried by the reluctant commander as he does by the mad engineer. Perhaps more so.

That maybe provokes just a hint of a smile from Eisley, suggesting for anyone who watches that maybe she knows better than to think she'll get to ask anything of the sort. Nothing further is contributed from that angle though; her confidence is kept awfully damned close, in that she turns her gaze back to the door and watches it with a certain keen fascination that apparently precludes the others who have been gathered together just now. Is that disconcerting? Perhaps. She doesn't twitch, she doesn't fidget, she doesn't fret… she merely waits.
Dominic stretches a bit as he cracks his neck, looking towards the door. He thinks to himself, his fingertips tapping on the arm of the chair. He glances to the Japanese woman, his head tilting slightly. "So what can you tell us about the Genesis anyway?" He says, trying to make some conversation as they wait for whoever it is they're waiting for.

"Where should I start?" Alas, she doesn't even get a chance to, as it is at that time that the mysterious door finally opens, a loud man's voice booming out, "You can all come in, now!" Mono shrugs and gets up, straightening her dress uniform and making her way towards the door along with the others.

Inside sit two men: the first is somewhere in his seventies and retains an air of command that demands respect, and while he is no longer a young man he still in impressive shape and would seem to be the owner of the voice. It is clear at once that he is the Secretary of the Navy. The other man is in his mid thirties and is olive skinned, appearing to be of Indian descent. His thick black hair is wavy and currently kept short, is uniform declaring him to be a Capitan. To anyone who has been watching the news, however, he's instantly recognizable as Commander Nandi Ramesh of the EAV Berlin, the 'hero' who refused to fire on a friendly vessel that had been overrun by terrorists, allowing the crew time to take the ship back. His actions saved the lives of the men and women on board the EAV Gosling, but cost significant damage to the Berlin and several other vessels that were peppered with fire from the Gosling in the meantime, though there were no casualties.

"Please," Secretary Mansfield offers with a gesture of his hand to the empty seats alongside the Indian man. "Have a seat."

Popping up as soon as the door opens, Dr. St-Sirois is at attention before the hinges have finished squeaking. "Sir," he says, civilly. Almost properly, even. The doctor takes the invitation into the secretary's office, making his way to a chair. Glancing thoughtfully at the commander, he carefully leaves the seat directly opposite the Secretary and the Captain vacant and sits more out of the way. The doctor bites his lower lip, a somewhat lopsided gesture given his old scar. In spite of the formality of the situation and the bewildering variety of his apparent crewmates, the doctor looks… -excited-?

When the door opens, Commander Eisley rises and spends a moment making sure everything is still in order, tucking down her jacket and smoothing her hair and so on. She follows on in through the door and hesitates just beyond upon spying the Captain, at which point her expression brightens - briefly - in recognition. This pause becomes a full-on salute, though the most perceptive might reckon it more for Ramesh than for the Secretary, though the older man probably is included in the gesture just because. Even so she doesn't speak, but instead moves in to have a seat as well, and there she settles with the same starchy, rigid quality exhibited outside, possibly complicated even more by the thickening of the plot, so to speak.

Dominic isn't quiet as quick to rise, but does so at his own pace. He sticks to the back of the pack as they file into the room, letting the Naval personnel enter first. He nods his head in silent greeting, taking up space near the wall with the others, standing at attention once he's reached his spot. He remains silent, letting the higher ranks speak first.

For all of her attitude and vulgarity, Mono is apparently quite capable of making a respectable salute and behaving herself when the situation warrants it. Perhaps she just has a unique opinion on what situations warrant it. She then takes a seat quietly.

"I have called you all in here to inform you, as I just finished discussing with Captain Ramesh, your promotions and assignment to the EAV Genesis," begins the Secretary, a faint hint of understanding the irony when he says the word 'promotions'. "For various reasons, you have been chosen as having the necessary skill set required for this mission." Disciplinary issues, suicidal tendencies, or just plain insanity, perhaps. "As there is great danger involved, as well as the likelihood that it will be at least 20 years before you see your friends and family again, we have deposited 10 years of pay - including hazard pay and presumptive death benefits - into your accounts for you to distribute to your remaining loved ones as you see fit, letting you know that they will be taking care of in your absence. Once we have received a signal from you that you have reached New Eden, a second deposit of the same amount will be placed into accounts of your choosing. Do you have any questions so far?"

What if I haven't talked to my loved ones in twenty-three years, presuming of course they're still alive? Dr. St-Sirois doesn't actually ask that question, of course. He just gives the Secretary an even more blank, expressionless look than usual. "None whatsoever, sir," the doctor says smartly. His gaze is solid, non-plussed, taking in absolutely nothing that particularly surprises him.

"No, sir." Eisley will join in that part of the choir, but her tone is cold. It is quite possible that she has just guessed at the reason why she's sitting in this chair, circumstances only slightly mitigated by present company - or possibly complicated by them, since she obviously wasn't first in line for the job she's been handed. Her head tilts slightly, allowing her to glance sidelong at the rest of the would-be crew that has been gathered, each of them getting a fresh moment of study.

Dominic continues to remain at attention as he listens to the Secretary speak, his eyes only moving from the man when he says the Captain's name to give the Captain a quick glance before returning to the Secretary. "None, sir." Is all he says.

Mono simply shakes her head once, indicating that she has no questions. The Secretary continues.

"You can thank your Capitan for the benefits package," he states with a somewhat cold glanced towards the Indian man. "I wouldn't want any of you to feel that you're leaving your families unattended." While those in the room may not have big families, Captain Ramesh is known to have a wife and two young children, which likely raise is any number of questions about exactly what he's doing here. "Once we receive your signal, we will supply you with further orders as to whether you're to stay on planet or return home after dropping the colonists off. Should 12 years go by without a signal, we will assume you were lost en route and proceed accordingly." He reaches into his desk and puts five small data chips on the surface of the desk, one for each of the officers assembled. "Our Chief Science Officer is still in transit, but you'll be meeting up with her shortly. On these chips are everything the command officers of the EAV Genesis need to know about the ship, its mission, and anything else that might be important. Take your time and study them. We're giving you six months of leave to spend with your friends and family before you launch. Are there any questions?"

Leaning over the desk, Dr. St-Sirois picks up his chip and, with the smooth grace of a man used to using his hands delicately, sweeps the chip neatly into his breast pocket. "No questions, sir. Six months of leave, sir." Six months to sit in the pub spending ten years of hazard pay before being turned into an ice cube for who the hell knows how long. St-Sirois nods, quite soberly.
And smiles. It's not just the scar making hips lips curl upward.

Eisley likewise gathers up her chip, though she does not pocket it immediately. She holds the thing between finger and thumb, examining it as if she could read it right here without any special equipment. "Six months, sir," she echoes back, again almost in chorus. Her words come more slowly though, more thoughtfully. And there they diverge, that cold blue gaze shifting from the bit of circuitry to the Secretary. "With all due respect, sir, is that wise? I understand this is a generous time compensation, but in six months the crew roster may need to be… replenished." Another word is plucked out of the mental list somewhere, inserted after only a heartbeat of the same careful calculation that paces the whole careful inquiry. Six months of leave is practically a lifetime… although that may be the point.

Dominic continues to watch the Secretary as he speaks, his eyes moving as he does, but drop to the chips as they're set on the desk, but makes no effort to move to get one. His facial expressions make no changes as the guidelines of the mission are set out. He, again, shakes his head as the question is asked. "No, sir." An eyebrow does raise as his eyes move to Eisley as she questions the length of the leave given. Mentally, he's trying to will her. Shut up. Don't ruin this for me. Though, he remains silent.

The question from Eisley gets both the attention of the Secretary and the Captain. "I haven't finished, Commander," the Secretary states in a dry tone, the word Commander said perhaps a bit bitterly. "We are also giving you these…" He reaches into another drawer in his desk and pulls out a box that contains what looks to be a collection of matching wristwatches. "On the Genesis, these will be your communications units. In addition to telling time and allowing you to communicate, they track your location, monitor your vitals, provide light in dark places and can send out a beacon in case of emergency. Until you're on the ship, will be using them as GPS tracking devices for your six months of leave. You take it off for even 5 seconds, and we'll know about it. This is our insurance policy that the generous package your Capitan has negotiated on your behalf doesn't disappear along with you. You'll put them on before you leave this room."

St-Sirois's smile is gone. His eyes bore into the tracking device on the desk. He even turns a little paler. Given his obvious enthusiasm for the mission it can hardly be certain what he's frowning about. But he's frowning, and he most certainly does not hurry to pick the watch up.
"Mr. Secretary, sir, with respect… being actively tracked during leave is an unusual gesture. Perhaps it would be possible to opt out of advance hazard pay in exchange for… avoiding such monitoring." St-Sirois doesn't look away from the watch. "In my personal case, I have no living dependants who would rely on the additional funds."

There is another little pause from the Commander as she glances now at Captain Ramesh, who has been so very silent through all of these dealings. This silence persists through the good doctor's contribution, which she addresses by leaning across the desk to pick up one of the devices. It too is given a hard stare for a tick or two before she snaps it onto her wrist, giving this no question and no complaint. At least not until it locks into place with that audible clink. "Then I will look forward to the first orientation tour aboard the Genesis. Sir." Here is that same rather frigid calm expressed out in the waiting room. In spite of how quick she was to pick up the tracking device, she evidently does not embrace it any more willingly or comfortably. Her obedience is as bitter a thing as the Secretary's acknowledgement of her rank, merely expressed in a wholly different fashion. That done, she turns that slight, sidelong look on Dominic, one brow lifting just a touch.

Dominic's eyes go to the doctor for a moment before looking to the monitoring devices. "An all expense paid 6 month vacation, free jewelry and a luxury cruise to a planet half way across the galaxy. A dream come true." He says, mostly to himself and in a hushed tone. His eyes look up to the Secretary then nods once. "Thank you, Mr. Secretary." He looks to the Captain. "Captain." He finally moves to pick up a chip and a monitoring device. He pockets the chip as he returns to his place and puts on the device to his wrist.

"Sure," the Secretary chuckles in reply to the doctor's request. "In return, you can tell me where he were for the years between being an anarchist and a doctor, because according to all records you simply fell off the face of the earth right in the middle of the war. When you did turn up it was in Libya, a region of the world that we still have problems with rogue nations from time to time. But I'm sure you have nothing to hide, correct?"

It is now that the Captain chooses to speak up, in defense of his crew. "I don't think Dr. St-Sirois is hiding anything, Sir. I believe we can all understand wanting to have our privacy, can we not?" When he speaks, it's in an English accent - Received Pronunciation, to be specific. "If the good doctor is willing to forgo the generous sum of money, I don't see why you would have any cause for concern. It is my understanding from reading their files that he is one of the crew members that requested this position specifically. Surely he has no reason to disappear, now, having gotten exactly the thing he wanted."

As his fellow officers are far more willing to accept the monitoring devices, St-Sirois closes his eyes, shoulders slumping a bit in resignation. When the Secretary speaks to him his eyes open again, but there is a distinct glint in there, like light shining off the keen edge of a sword.
"Mr. Secretary," the doctor says, and his voice absolutely oozes politeness. His upper-class French accent even trickles into his previously quite American English. It's so polite it actually goes all the way around to being rude. "Have you been to Tripoli since the end of the war?" Beat. "I understand some of the submarines head down there from time to time. I am not the only man to slip through the cracks of the war to end all wars." Looking at Captain Ramesh, St-Sirois smiles, inclines his head respectfully, and pushes the watch back over the counter. "Thank you, sir," the doctor says, much more normally.

Eisley, already braceleted, has little say in this particular matter. She settles back as far as her straight-backed posture permits, hands dropping to her lap, though not with the same flawless, fidget-free nature demonstrated before. The chip is pocketed, but one hand strays to trace around the watch, less to play with the buttons and more simply to feel the thing. As St-Sirois speaks again her attention diverts that way and her mouth purses slightly, lip wet by a quick brush of her tongue. "It would be most distressing if something unfortunate were to happen to our chief medical officer before the tour," she comments now. "I understand that most of those best qualified to hold the position were not exactly lining up to apply for it. You seem quite eager to make this journey, and I at least would be disappointed if you were not able to join us."

A look of shock and interest appears on Dominic's face at the mentioning of the Doctor disappearing during the war. He crosses his arms across his chest as the Captain comes to the defense, watching the exchange as Dominic leans against the wall as his mind works on the information that he's just received. He looks to the Commander as she speaks, but doesn't say anything.

The Secretary may have been a bit bitter towards the Commander, and he may have been bordering on accusatory with St-Sirois, but his gaze goes absolutely stone cold when the Captain speaks. The Captain, who was already in the room when the others came in. The Captain, who apparently was in a meeting with the Secretary that ran late enough so as to keep everyone else waiting in the waiting room. The Captain, who apparently did some arm twisting of some sort to get a large chunk of advanced pay for all of the crew. One thing is very clear - Secretary Mansfield does not like Captain Ramesh. Not at all.

"I will hold onto this for you, then, until you report for duty," the Secretary states slowly as he picks up one of the communications units and places it back inside the box. Mono reaches out and takes one for herself, along with one of the chips which she pockets after attaching the wrist device. She remains as silent as ever.

"I appreciate your consideration in this matter, sir," Ramesh offers calmly. "I am confident that our good doctor will turn up as expected when we are to report for duty, Commander. Just to be safe, why don't you get his contact information before we leave and keep in touch with him over the six months?" Oh yes, the Captain knows how to play the game. Squeeze another concession from your boss, make one of your officers happy, and satisfy another officer's concerns by making her the point man on the issue. He's good.

St-Sirois isn't even sarcastic when he nods at Ramesh once more. "Of course, sir." He turns about in his chair towards Eisley, and as his face goes by the Secretary's there's just a hint of a wry smirk (although it's probably just the scar doing it). "I'd be more than happy to provide you with my information when we have the opportunity, ma'am," he says, polite as could be. Sure. Phone calls and e-mails he can live with. He can take it.

Here we have the second little cracking of Eisley's composure because that probably wasn't at all what she had in mind when she hinted at concern over the doctor's well being. However, this time there are no explicatives to color her dismay, merely a tight-lipped expression that turns ever so very slightly wry when she meets the doctor's smirk. "You can give me the necessary details when we finish up here, Lieutenant Commander."
Dominic gives the new device on his wrist a brief look over as the Doctor and Commander speak. Once they've finished, or at least paused enough, he looks up to the Secretary before he speaks again. "Is that all we need, sir?" He asks, placing his hands behind his back, holding onto his wrist.

Apparently the Secretary isn't in the mood for any more negotiations, and just wants to get this over with. "Unless there are any further questions, you're dismissed. Your leave starts immediately. Report back to Central Command in six months for your walk through of the ship and pre launch training." He nods and waves the Marine off. "Go," he tells man.

Captain Ramesh rises from his seat, connecting his wrist unit and then offering his hand to the Secretary for a parting shake. He gets one, though it is brief and purely formality. He then turns to the crew and gestures to the door. "If we're done here, I think the first action of our leave should be to have a drink together."

Mono simply nods her head, not saying a word. She hasn't even said boo since she stepped into this room.

The good doctor can afford a great deal less liquor than he could halfway through this meeting, but he seems non-plussed. "Yes, sir," St-Sirois says, standing up and nodding smartly at the Secretary. "Mr. Secretary." Without bothering to shake the Secretary of the Navy's hand, the doctor turns on his heel and strides straight out of the meeting room. As soon as he thinks nobody is looking at his face, he releases a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.

"Perhaps so, sir," agrees Eisley as she rises. She is still a little bit stiff, that straight-laced quality apparently embedded down to her very skeletal structure. She likewise declines to shake hands with Secretary Mansfield, a slight that will probably not drop her any further in the man's estimation. It takes precious little encouragement to get her out into the waiting room, somewhere she arrives just a few steps behind the good doctor, whereupon her reaction is very much the same. A breath is let out in a lengthy puff, ending as she tilts her head to one side, then the other, before reaching up to rub at the back of her neck. "You can forward me the necessary bits," she says then, much more conversationally, to St-Sirois. "So long as you check up once every 30 days or so, I won't feel obligated to send a SEAL team to look for you." 30 days has got to be a better deal than full-time monitoring. For both parties.

Dominic nods his head to the Secretary as a farewell before he turns and leaves the office after the others do. He turns to the others and the Captain as he offers drinks. "Why not. I won't turn down free booze." He says, moving to the others. He has dropped most of the military formalities since he's now officially on leave.

If the others where holding their breaths, Mono was holding her tongue. Once out of the office and back into the waiting room she lets forth with a snarled, muttering string of Japanese that is quite likely invective. Small hands pull at fistfulls of her hair.

"Lieutenant Commander Kurokawa," Ramesh lilts, "You were noticably quiet in there. Are you all right?"

"Hai," she replies, defaulting to Japanese. "I mean yes. I was just told before coming here that if I said a word I'd be immediately taken off the projct."

"Yes, ma'am," replies the doctor, nodding smartly without turning around to face the woman he's nodding to. Instead he heads right back for the chair he had been sitting in, dropping down for a moment. Absentmindedly, he rubs the wrist that has no monitor on it. A quick shake of his head, a quick release of breath. Then the doctor is back on his feet as if nothing ever happened. "Well, lieutenant-commander," the doctor says to the engineer, "surely you could have done that kicking again. That's silent." Given how deadpan St-Sirois is, it's unclear how much he's joking.

Monitor.. monitor… no monitor. At this rate they'll be able to keep tabs on the doctor just by the company he keeps, though this merry band can't possibly last more than a few hours before scattering to the wind. Probably. Given how -very- different they all are…. anyway. As for Commander Eisley, she rubs at the back of her neck again for a moment, then turns her attention to the Captain. "If you can recommend a good place here in Washington, I'd be happy to meet the lot of you there in… an hour or so. If I'm going on leave I might as well do it for real." Mono gets a look too, and a bit of a smirk. "You did a spectacular job of keeping quiet, too. And keeping still, which was probably, technically, included somewhere in the subtext."

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