((OCC: Here we go. Thank you, everyone, for your patience.))
Agnew rose from her chair and spoke to the synthetic, Pope, waiting patiently on the stand.
"Mr. Pope," she said, her bearing ramrod straight but her tone polite as ever. "I understand that though you were not present for Lieutenant Ericson's death on Gateway, you have access to what autopsy reports are available on her remains?"
"Yes," Pope said. Like Agnew, his posture was straight and his expression open and forthcoming. After all, synthetics cannot lie.
"In reference to the burns on the victim, does the autopsy find they are the cause of death?"
"No."
"Without violating the classified nature of the mission, can you verify that though the burns were not the cause of death, can you state if death occurred before or after the burns were inflicted?"
"I can state that the burns were post-mortem, but inflicted very soon after death."
"So it would not behoove Lieutenant Quinn to administer aid to someone already dead when there were still living Marines in need of it? Is it normal procedure to spend valuable medical aid on a corpse in that situation?"
"No, it is not."
"Thank you. Next question. As to the operation in Norway, I understand that though you were aboard the APC for the duration you were nevertheless able to monitor everything that transpired inside the base via the various communications channels, including the tac-net Lieutenant. Quinn's unit wore. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"And given your capabilities to record such channels and derive information from them, can you tell us how much time transpired between disembarking the APC to being met by the on-site Lieutenant?"
"Five minutes."
"No wasted time. And you were able to record what the on-site Lieutenant said when Quinn reported for briefing?"
"Yes."
"Could you replay it for us, please?"
"Certainly," Pope answered. When he next opened his mouth, the recording issued forth, complete with ambient noise from the environment as well as the slight hiss from the channel itself.
''Line up, Marines!''
(A man's voice gives the order. There is noise of boots on the deck, the scuffle as a number of people move about with various clinks and clanks of equipment. A cough. The man's voice continues.)
"Ok, good enough. At ease, Marines."
(There is a rustle and a pause, then the Lieutenant speaks.)
"As you are all aware things have gone FUBAR the last couple of days and weeks. Gateway, as we speak, is still in freefall and the US space forces are struggling to keep it at bay. The station is—."
The recording stopped and Pope continued in his own voice. "Information about the station's condition and the on-ground condition is redacted due to Classified status." His voice changed back to the recording.
"But that's not why you are here. You were the closest unit that was deemed battle hardened enough. Things are at a strictly need to know basis at this moment. But I need you to be fully kitted up and be ready for immediate VIP extraction. I also want you to tie these to your left and right upper arms."
(Footsteps and more rustling, presumably the implied objects are being distributed.)
"For now I will let you into the mess hall around the corner, it is abandoned. Stay there and keep a low profile for now. I will contact you on 155ghz. There is some chow stowed in the storage there. If something happens it will happen within two hours."
(Footsteps and then a groan and squeal as if something metal is moving.)
"Thank you, Pope. You may stop." Agnew raised her hand in a staying gesture. During Pope's replay, she'd retrieved a thick sheaf of paper and tapped it as she continued. "My transcript tells me that the Lieutenant said nothing more and that the unit moved into the mess area as ordered. When was the next communication from the on-site Lieutenant, either by comms or in person?"
"One hour, nineteen minutes, and fifty-five seconds later."
"There were no other communications nor anything like a briefing on the VIP extraction from the Lieutenant during this time? Did the defendant, Lieutenant Sixtus Quinn, receive any more information inside that hour-nineteen minutes?"
"No, there were none and no, he did not."
"Can you replay what occurred next? Could you state over which channel?"
"Yes. It was on the 155 ghz channel specified by the on-site Lieutenant." Pope opened his mouth and that odd effect of speaking without lip movement, complete with sound effects, poured out.
(Crackling static, then …)
"Marines! It's going down! Get ready to recieve the package through the kitchen! Package plus five arriving in two minutes. Set up a perimeter! Now!"
(The Lieutenants voice is raspy. Distant, muffled burst of gunfire is heard as he speaks, a split second delayed it reverberated through the headsets of the marines as background noise.)
"Thank you, Mr. Pope." Again Agnew gestured a stop and Pope shut his mouth, looking expectantly for the next question. Agnew continued, looking over the transcript in her hand. "When was the next time the on-site Lieutenant spoke to the defendant? Could you replay that please?"
Agnew looked up and again Pope complied.
(Silence, obviously ambient air in the mess hall, for a few seconds until the gunfire was re-newed, this time much closer. Footsteps running then skidding. Then …)
"Marines! Form a perimeter behind us, we need to leave with this!"
(More running, a slight jingling, then several more footsteps rushing in accompanied by a long burst of gunfire that seemed to echo into a distant space, answered by returning pistol fire which was immediately followed by a metallic percussive sound.)
"Stop," Agnew said, finger raised. "I would like to clarify that the '
This' the on-site Lieutenant is referencing is a briefcase. The sound file transcript does not explicitly say but I have several of the Marines' eyewitness accounts that the Lieutenant entered the room with a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. Accounts also say he was completely soaked with sweat dripping from his face. He was followed by three marines wearing yellow armbands, shooting back the way they came. Were there any further orders issued by the on-site Lieutenant or any further communications from him from this point forward?"
"Just one," Pope said.
"And that was …?" Agnew prompted.
"Move, move, move!" The Lieutnant's voice spilled out of Pope, and then the synthetic continued in his own. "That was the last communication we received from the on-site Lieutenant."
"And that was the extent of his orders to the defendant? There was no further information or indication that the President was being extracted? No orders to secure him from danger?"
"That was the extent as far as can be verfied. And no, Ma'am, there was no further verifiable indication of the status of the President and no orders from the on-site Lieutenant to secure the President from danger."
"How odd. A VIP, possibly the President himself, is supposed to be extracted and yet not produced. One must wonder why. How time had expired between the on-site Lieutenant's warning over the channels and his rather hasty appearance?"
"Two minutes, fifty-three seconds."
"And in that time, were there any other reports or orders or otherwise any information given to Lieutenant Quinn as to the situation transpiring unseen? Any indication of the President's location or condition? Any indication of other Marine personnel at the base?"
"No, Ma'am."
"It would seem that Lieutenant Quinn was operating under a shameful lack of information and was hampered by that lack. And everyone in the court can gauge for themselves, there was no time to ask for more information or further orders before the on-site Lieutenant left the area. Not very forthcoming of him. Could you replay what Quinn's orders were after the other Lieutenant had left the scene?"
"Certainly," Pope replied. This time, Quinn's voice poured out of the synthetic's mouth. Despite the tone and the command apparent in the recording, the synthetic's expression remained bland. It was an odd disconnect between the sound and the body language, and not a little unnerving to watch.
"Dirk, keep your squad in the kitchen and hold them off for five mikes, repeat, five mikes. Fall back afterward. James, take your squad and double-time it to the hangar. Secure our evac point. Don't get the shiny blue one. Prefer air transport, but an APC will do if needs be. Do it in three mikes, now. Command team, hold the entrance to the mess."
(A shuffle, a rustle of cloth, then …)
"Stand by Lieutenant, I'm having a team scout and secure our evac. What is the status of the President?"
Agnew indicated a stop and Pope closed his mouth, shutting off the sound.
"That last was Lieutenant Quinn informing the on-site Lieutenant of his intention to provide back-up and requesting information on the President, who it was implied was on-site?"
"Yes."
"Did the Lieutenant, so ostensibly in charge of the facility and carrying the aforementioned briefcase give any response to Quinn's question about the status of the President?"
"None as far as I can discern, Ma'am."
"Not even to so clear a request for information?"
"No."
"That is rather suspicious. And that was the last of the Lieutenant while still alive on your recording, correct?"
"Yes."
"I think the record sufficiently shows that Lieutenant Quinn acted as quickly as he was able in the absence of further information to issue orders in a timely fashion so as to facilitate the evacuation of the briefcase and, one might reasonably assume, the President. And there was no indication of the President passing through the way that Lieutenant Quinn had secured as per his issued orders?"
"No, there was no indication."
"And yet, there was a report from one of Quinn's men that the on-site Lieutenant had boarded a dropship without the President and made all indications of taking off without the President, correct? Could you play what …," Agnew said, leafing through the transcript and pausing as she found what she looked for. "Master Sergeant James Screaming Eagle reported?"
(A whine issued from Pope's mouth, the sound of turbines spinning up over the whistle of winds ….)
"Quinn, you need to get out here on the double. the Lieu just jumped the bird and is getting ready to dust off."
(The sergeant was shouting to be heard over the high pitch squeal of the turbines.)
"Dirk, as soon as you guys are able, release my squad so we can check out the other bird. Something tells me we are not going to get a ride here."
"Stop," Agnew said. "What did Sergeant Dirk Pitt say in response?"
(A different man's voice, accompanied by boots ringing on the deck implying the speaker is moving.)
"Quinn, this is Pitt. First squad is falling back to the hanger."
(More sounds of movement, a fiant echo as if off hard indoor surfaces as Dirk's voice continues ...)
"We're falling back to the hanger James. What the hell is going on out there?"
"Stop," Agnew said again. "And Sergeant Screaming Eagle's response to Sergeant Pitt?"
"Dirk, the LT and his escort are in the process of leaving the Eights behind. I am trying to see if we cannot take the other bird sitting on the landing pad. If that fails we will be looking at the President's ride."
"Stop. Thank you, Mr. Pope. So here we have a clear absence of communication from the source Lieutenant Quinn relied upon for proper briefing on the situation, for a current sit rep, or even an indication that the President needed assistance or protection. Here we have evidence from at least two other witnesses at the scene that strongly suggests the on-site Lieutenant is deserting his post with sensitive information in the form of the briefcase and is ordering the defendant to facilitate said desertion. In the face of that, I believe Lieutenant Quinn made his assessment with the information in front of him and reached the only conclusion an intelligent human being and a well-trained Marine could make. Mr. Pope, would you be so kind as to play Lieutenant Quinn's response to this sit rep, please."
(Lieutenant Quinn's voice issued from Pope, filling the room.)
"James, if that ship lifts off, put a grenade against it's armor plating. Just one grenade. Giosso, plant a tracker on that craft now, on the double!! Duncan, I want you to set up and put a bullet down ONE of the intakes if that craft starts lifting off. I want it damaged, not disabled. Dirk, pull your squad back, do it by the numbers. Obi, reinforce Dirk's squad. Rest of us are headed straight for the hangar."
"Stop," Agnew said. "'Damaged'.
Not disabled. Not, therefore, in a condition to endanger anyone who might be aboard, including—if possible—the President. Even in the midst of what is obviously battle, under less than informed conditions, he did not order the dropship destroyed. He ordered it
damaged. He ordered a tracker to be placed on the craft so that it may be tracked and to assist in rescuing those aboard should they need it. He orders his men to fall back in an orderly manner and has them back each other's positions up against hostile fire. Those who are free to do so, he orders to head for the hangar. This hardly seems the action of a loose cannon, of someone with egregious disregard for the safety and lives of the men under his command or those he has been assigned to protect."
Agnew's eyebrow rose and her voice was ever-so-slightly arch as she looked Richmond's way. "Not at all guilty as charged. The comms record makes that evident." She turned back to the witness stand and her expression thawed to something decidedly less sharp. "Thank you, Mr. Pope. Your testimony has been most helpful. No further questions."
<TAG: Everyone>
((OOC: I will be AFK for the next few hours but will be back around 2300 hrs to post as needed. Friday night with family calls ...))