Jailhouse Rock, AS Continuation, Open to Fishies

This really wasn't how Stony wanted to spend this night. Oh, sorry, did he mention that before? Well, he thought that it bore repeating after a night like this. If these were just some regular Confederation thugs that didn't know how to hold their liquor, he could have thrown them in a cell and then left the officers on duty to deal with the necessary paperwork. But nooo, he got stuck with the higher ranking officers that couldn't hold their liquor instead.

Stony wasn't exactly gentle with Lelouch when he hauled him into the building, his hand a vicegrip at his elbow, but then again, Lelouch probably didn't notice in his abbreviated state. They had removed the weapons of the arrested members of the little troop, which was probably for the best on the drive over here.

After all, Voltaire couldnt' very well shoot an unarmed prisoner, though he was pretty sure that most other officers would have rejoiced if Lelouch had turned up shot in the head. Voltaire knew that if someone had told him that in the morning, he would personally track down the man who had done it and given him a medal. But at least in this MP's humble opinion, Lelouch was better than High Colonel Sorn.

Now that one, he would actually pay someone to go out and off, for the betterment of them all. Unfortunately, he doubted that his superiors would be all that pleased with that option, though he knew secretly they no doubt wanted to do it himself.

Stony looked over at the young MP at the desk, who paled at the look of irritation on his commanding officer's face. At the young man's feet, a large dog was laying down and attempting to take a nap. She was what would have been known as a German Shepard had they been on Earth, but well. Unfortunately for the poor animal, her ear was currently getting knawed on by a little Kusak pup, who seemed to have mistaken her ear as a chew toy. The Shepard looked up at her owner's return, her sharply pointed black ears perking up and her tail wagging.

Grumbling in irritation, Stony opened one of the force field cages in the prison's holding area, and shoved the 'High General' into it, reactivating it after a moment.

"Shove the others in different cells, boys, let them cool their heels for a while until someone shows up to rescue their sorry, booze-ridden asses." Stony said grumpily, as he reached down to rub the dog's ears. Canderous whined and pawed at his leg, and he obliged the little critter with an earrub as well.

Stony's irritation seemed to drain out of him at the greeting of the two canines, watching out of the corner of his eye as the officers put Sorn in the cell next to Lelouch, and Hadrian across the hall from them.

"Good girl, Starbuck. You took, Candy. They were good, right?" The harsh-faced man looked up at the desk cop, who grinned and shrugged his shoulders, already taking out the necessary paperwork for the incident.

"Yessir, they were quiet as mice."

Stony grabbed a chair and pulled it out, looking at the woman who had entered with them with what could have been interpreted as worry, had this not been Colonel Ice Cold.

"Commander Bravil, you really should sit down and let me take a look at that ankle."

What, alternate reason for helping her out? No, not Stony.

Well, maybe a little. She was a very attractive woman, after all. And competent. Not that Voltaire ever thought anything would come of it.

Yeah.

To think that only a few hours ago, Conner had dared to dream she might be able to make an early night of it! But no, things just couldn't be that simple, could they? She'd just had to go over and chat with her old Academy friend, unwittingly calling the rest of the night's events down upon her head as a result. Poor Paol... he must be absolutely mortified. Not that the stoic veteran would ever display such an emotion in broad strokes, but Constance had learned to read him well enough over the years. She couldn't blame him for electing not to travel with the troop headed for the hoosegow. Big dramatic scenes really weren't his cup of tea. Neither was watching two of his few friends brawling in public, for that matter.

Keeping her upper lip as stiff as she could, the Wing Commander hobbled along after the passel of guards and the officers they were 'escorting' into lockup for the night. Fortunately Hadrian's decision to go quietly kept his chaperon from having an excuse to manhandle him, something Conner greatly appreciated. She was unhappy enough about Frag being arrested as it was; seeing him roughed up in front of her wouldn't have gone well for the MP in question or his commanding officer.

"Shove the others in different cells, boys, let them cool their heels for a while until someone shows up to rescue their sorry, booze-ridden asses."

When the Renegades' resident misanthrope was secured in his cell, the Corellian lingered for several seconds beyond the shimmering barrier of the energy field. The look she shot the demolition expert was thoughtful, bordering on pensive. "Thanks," she said at last, a quiet recognition of what he'd done for her back at the Ice Tap. Sure, she hadn't wanted him to interfere with her trying to pull his muscular buttocks out of the fire, but the fact remained he'd done so. That kind of gesture deserved some form of acknowledgment.

That said, too much acknowledgment would no doubt make Hadrian uncomfortable, so Conner did not further expound on her begrudging gratitude. "Now don't get too cozy in there, Frag. I'm not leaving until I spring you. Again." A faint smirk formed on her lips as she reminded them both how often she had these talks with her subordinate through a security field. Turning away, the ace pilot moved to catch up with Colonel Beruss with as much speed and dignity as a busted left ankle allowed her. The other two men who'd been incarcerated along with her Flight Lieutenant didn't merit so much as a glance from the Wing Commander.

"Commander Bravil, you really should sit down and let me take a look at that ankle."

As Confederate officers who weren't Alliance double agents went, Voltaire Beruss was a decent man. More than once this fact had led Conner to speculate as to what the hell he was doing on Dolomar in the first place. He showed enough moral fiber that she didn't want to stick him with the automatic label of 'traitor' assigned to most sons and daughters of Corellia who served its conquerors. After all, Soral had always insisted Michael wasn't one... but that was another lifetime ago.

For a moment the brunette considered arguing with Stony, but in the end she decided it would be silly, if not downright irrational. So long as he didn't try to get her bundled off to the base infirmary before she'd secured Lieutenant Locke's freedom, the attention of a trained medic certainly wouldn't hurt. Pun not intended. "If you insist, Colonel," she acceded to Voltaire's advice, making her way towards the nearest unoccupied chair and carefully lowering herself into it. Gingerly she undid the already loosened straps of her high heeled shoe, slipping her foot out of its confinement before extending the injured extremity for the MP's examination. "I'm pretty sure I tore something, but I don't think it's too bad off."

The ride to the jailhouse wasn’t nearly long enough for Lelouch to get his wits back about him. Even as Beruss hauled him inside, it was essentially all he could do to keep walking. Of course, had he stopped walking, it was rather certain with the grip that Stony had on him that he might have just gotten dragged the rest of the way to the cell, but that just wouldn’t do. At the very least, it meant the High General didn’t put up a struggle. Trying to fight of the MP in the middle of his domain probably wouldn’t have been the more directed of paths to take. Of course, all of this was currently beyond the High General, who probably couldn’t have counted to ten without some serious coaching.

There were words, and some part of Zero heard them, but the idea of comprehension was a thing of the past. For the most part, he couldn’t even figure out who was talking. At least nothing seemed to be directed at him, so he could go on being quite oblivious. The most coherent thought he could currently put together were rather malicious ones about how he hoped Sorn had fallen out of their transport and gotten run over on the way here.

Of course, that hope didn’t last long as he made the hazy realization that the other was being tossed into the cell next to this. Oh good, maybe he was close enough to pummel again.

He didn’t keep his feet longer than a half second after the force field was brought back up, though. He didn’t have the strength nor the coordination left to not hit the ground. He managed to sit more than just fall over, at least, but even finding himself merely sitting on the cold floor was too hard to deal with. Not caring one whit about what he looked like right now, he promptly found himself on his back, looking at the equally frigid ceiling above him.

And for a few brief, merciful moments, he blacked out.

It said a lot about Hadrian that he knew the way to the lockup better than the officer driving him to it – the man, obviously a newbie, kept going through all the streets cluttered with traffic. After the fifth pointed remark at the man’s virility – or lack thereof – and thoroughly smudging his family tree on both sides, the Coruscanti deigned to inform him of the quickest route to it. Stony should have known better than to assign him a newbie, really, it was almost insulting. With the monthly number of times Hadrian ended in the MP’s tender care, he was surprised there wasn’t a cell always ready with his name engraved on it in that neat little Dolomar-regulated script – Beruss was all about efficiency, after all.

The officer was itching to unleash a bit of roughhousing on him when he escorted him to his cell, so Hadrian smiled angelically – causing all dogs in a three mile radius to howl at the moon in terror and several satellites to fall from orbit – and remained on his best behaviour. Lieutenant Frag prided himself on being able to find what irked people the most and cutting them down with it gleefully, so if it required of him to ac remotely civilized for a few minutes he’d make a sacrifice for the cause. Keeping an eye on Constance, as the foolish woman had insisted on accompanying him to this little piece of paradise, he walked until the blue sheet of energy separated him from all the proper citizens of Dolomar. The misanthrope snorted at the thought – he hadn’t been a good citizen since he’d discovered the joys of smoking and gratuitous verbal abuse when he was twelve.

Constance lingered near the barrier drawing an interrogative monosyllable from the pilot – the alcohol was catching up to him and he wasn’t feeling like making the effort to articulate a proper question. Not that he ever felt like it when he wasn’t slightly inebriated: questions led to deep and meaningful conversations, something that was water to his proverbial Wicked Witch of the West. The look she was shooting him was contemplative and it made Frag uncomfortable: Angler was as sharp out of the cockpit as she was in it, and he was prickly the thought of her dissecting his attitude.

"Thanks."

Void, this wasn’t going to turn in a conversation about feelings and gratitude, was it? Hadrian wasn’t nearly drunk enough to get through one of those without getting sick at the stomach.

“Now don't get too cozy in there, Frag. I'm not leaving until I spring you. Again."

The misanthrope let out a sigh of relief at that. Conner was returning to her usual Conner-ish attitude, thing were back to normal. He’d forgive her that second of humanity and blame it on her rough night. Wing Commander Bravil wasn’t like him; she didn’t thrive in conflict and confrontations. On the contrary, she was the kind of people that stopped those very conflicts, something that had irked Hadrian until he’d just had to accept it was part of her personality – it was one of the things that held the Renegades together, so he’d only mock it on special occasions.

“I’m thinking about moving in, might spare me the traffic. That and Edijan could teach Stony’s puppies who’s on top of the food chain,” he shot back.

She left after that and Hadrian settled back against the wall of his magnificent domain, hand on the back of his head. As these kind of hours tended to get boring, he fell back to the pleasant mental exercise of visualizing where he’d have to put concussion charges to put the building down in the most spectacular manner possible.

Stony shook his head as the great general Lelouche passed out in a drunken stupor on the floor of his jail cell, a snarl of disgust coming over his face. Oh yes, that was really a man that inspired leadership and honor, right there. He shook his head and ignored the prone form, gently prodding at Conner's ankle. It wasn't broken, merely sprained, but it was still going to hurt like a bitch. The MP at the desk handed him a first aid kit, and the Colonel took out bandages and started to wrap her ankle, holding it gently in his hand. Starbuck and Candy were very nosy at what he was doing, the larger female canine sticking her cold, wet black nose against Conner's hand, and begging for a petting. Stony shook his head: Starbuck was shameless.

"Might as well give her a pet, or she'll never leave you alone." He said with some warmth and a little amusement to the woman, a slight grin on his face despite the situation. The rookie MP got as far away from Hadrian as he could, looking more than a little intimidated by the Renegade. Stony would have to fix that, Hadrian was like an annoying, chain smoking shark that smelled blood or nicotine in the water with the newbies.

“I’m thinking about moving in, might spare me the traffic. That and Edijan could teach Stony’s puppies who’s on top of the food chain,”

Stony rolled his eyes, finishing the bandage and standing up, feeling his joints creak as he stood. He winced slightly as his joints and muscles reminded him how much that his body, now getting older, disliked the cold of Dolomar. His man at the desk handed him a clipboard which he signed quickly.

"You should. Maybe the prospect of having you for a cell mate would deter sheer idiocy." Stony replied, not quite nasty, but in a chill tone that said he was far too used to Hadrian's antics. He handed the clipboard back, and glanced at the cell Lelouche was in, shaking his head. Thank the Force that Dane was still gagged, and would stay that way until someone bailed him out. He motioned to the more experienced MP, who opened the cell and kneeled down to check on the High General.

"Bah, he's just passed out drunk, sir. He'll be up in a minute or two."

Speaking of, Conner was a Renegade too. So far it seemed like no matter how many times he arrested Hadrian, no matter how many fines or days in the brig he received, he was always back to his age old tricks as soon as he got out. Besides, he hadn't missed the short conversation between Conner and Hadrian when Hadrian was put in the cell, and wondered if he might, /might/ have a potential ally, though he doubted it. The Renegades were a notoriously tight knit group.

"You're on the same squad as Hadrian, aren't you? Could you /please/ try to get him to excessive some discretion, for once. I'm getting very tired of having to arrest him." Stony said loudly enough so that Hadrian could hear to Conner, before shaking his head and addressing her in a more mild tone, softer, so that he couldn't hear him. "I'm starting to run out of excuses why I'm not bringing him up on charges."

Honestly, the Renegades needed Hadrian. And the Renegades were important to the Confederation, as well. Stony didn't want to bring him up before a military court, where no doubt Hadrian's mouth would get him into even more trouble with the command.

"Might as well give her a pet, or she'll never leave you alone."

Despite the pain she was in, the Wing Commander managed a small smile at the canine's blatant bid for attention. Conner wasn't at all surprised to find the Colonel treated the two animals as pets, and not just working companions. Her fellow Corellian definitely seemed like a dog person--the very much domesticated kind, at least. Beruss was quite the civilized man, after all. "Might as well oblige her then," the brunette murmured, first stroking the top of Starbuck's head before moving her hand lower to scruffle the fur of her neck.

“I’m thinking about moving in, might spare me the traffic. That and Edijan could teach Stony’s puppies who’s on top of the food chain.”

"You should. Maybe the prospect of having you for a cell mate would deter sheer idiocy."

Conner would have sighed at the antagonistic interplay between the two men if she hadn't resigned herself ages ago to the reality of the primal personality conflict between the two. Frag and Stony stood on opposite ends of the Confederate spectrum, always had, always would. Considering her true nature, the Alliance agent found it hilariously ironic that she was stuck in the position of playing mediator between them. Tactically speaking, she should be encouraging infighting and chaos in the ranks, all the better to weaken her enemies.

"Trust me, sir, you don't want to have that demonspawn anywhere on the premises," Constance commented idly, observing the MP's progress on bandaging her ankle with mild interest. She had to admit, Beruss had a good bedside manner and a light touch. It was interesting to find such considerate behavior coming from a leader of the Dolomarian brute squad. Yet another quirk of the Colonel's which led her to wonder what the frink the man was doing here in the first place. "There's a reason why I keep hoping the damned thing will catch a stray blaster bolt."

"You're on the same squad as Hadrian, aren't you? Could you /please/ try to get him to exercise some discretion, for once. I'm getting very tired of having to arrest him."

Both dark brows rose up Conner's forehead at the Colonel's request. Yes, she appreciated the fact he had to put on a bit of a performance here to show he was properly doing his job... but seriously, what kind of magic powers did Beruss think Wing Commander Bravil possessed? And hadn't he noticed how much Constance's presence as the Coruscanti's CO had reduced Hadrian's average number of arrests per month? "No one got shot, stabbed, or blown up. For Lieutenant Locke, that is exercising discretion."

"I'm starting to run out of excuses why I'm not bringing him up on charges."

A faint grimace crossed Conner's face at the reminder of how they'd all come to be here in the first place. "You don't need an excuse this time, Colonel," she shot back in reply, lowering her voice to the same confidential register Beruss was using. "As I told you earlier, Hadrian had nothing to do with the fight. He showed up later after noticing I'd been injured. As a matter of fact, he was about to help me get home when you and your subordinates showed up." Given Frag's known lack of consideration for the well-being of others around him, the pilot felt it important to emphasize this particular fact. This was the closest the Flight Lieutenant may have ever come to standing on the side of the angels.

"If any Renegade should face charges from this mess, it's me. I deliberately got involved in the fight. Sure, it was only to keep the High General from critically injuring Colonel Sorn--a decision I regret, by the way--but I did technically use physical force against a superior officer." Of course, Conner wasn't the technical type when it came to regulations, but she knew Beruss held the regs far more dear than her.

Dressed in a simple black uniform with her hair pulled tight into a bun, Maris Kala'myr strode confidently into the MP station. Maris had never been here before, yet she knew the route to the cells instinctively. She turned corner after corner with a stern and yet oddly pleasant expression, the heeled boots clacked loudly off the tiles with her vigorous stride. This was not a social call. She was representing the office of the irate Grand Admiral Stone. The Grand Admiral's stress levels were instantly noted as she contacted her droid for this task. Maris knew this to be serious, in fact, the last time such readings had been registered within Xira Stone had been when news of the Olderon attacks came in.

Entering the holding cells, Maris paused beside the doors and observed for a second. A number of cells had flickering shields projected across the openings. Maris declined to approach and instead focused upon the pair beside a desk. Wing Commander Constance Bravil was instantly recognised. Maris smiled in recognition. She took a few steps towards Connie and the unknown man currently wrapping her sprained ankle. Her hands were clasped around a simple dataslate behind her back. Maris appeared unarmed, but looks could be deceiving.

Maris had displayed surprise as Grand Admiral Stone told her of the escalation in the Ice Tap and the military police hauling everyone away. When Maris had left the bar with Memory, everyone was settling down and the situation had been diffused to her satisfaction. MP involvement was not something that Maris had predicted with any confidence. The police reports had yet to be filed and the droid had yet to discern the events that had occurred after her departure.

As she crossed the floor, Maris turned her head and regarded the figures residing within the energy cells. She saw Sorn, still bound and gagged, with a hateful expression. High General Villa was in the next cell, lying sprawled on the floor. She paused briefly and only continued once the slight heaving of his chest was registered. He was still alive. The next cell contained a man who Maris had not encountered before. She nodded politely to him though the flickering field and continued on.

"Hello, Connie." Maris chirped politely with a brilliant smile. She gave the Wing Commander a little wave and directed her gaze to the man dressing her ankle for a moment. She frowned, "shouldn't your ankle be seen to by a trained medical professional?"
Maris still could not see the rank on the man's jacket.
"I don't suppose you've seen Colonel Beruss, have you? I have a matter of great importance to discuss with him." she asked with a smile, pulling the dataslate from behind her back and tapping it absentmindedly against the palm of her hand. Truth was there wasn't going to be much of a discussion with the Colonel. Her orders came from God for all Voltaire was concerned. She had the edicts and authority of Grand Admiral Stone to take Lelouch Villa from his custody without question.

"Trust me, sir, you don't want to have that demonspawn anywhere on the premises,"

Stony looked at Conner and raised an eyebrow, carefully prodding at her ankle to make sure that nothing was broken. He seriously doubted it, because if it was, she'd probably be crying right now, no matter how professional she was. Broken bones hurt, and he didn't know anyone that didn't at least cry out. A sprained ankle was nothing to call in the medical team for, not when his first aid training would do just fine in this situation.

"Wouldn't be the first time he's threatened to blow up the Station. Among other things." He joked slightly, though this wasn't much of a joking situation. He had no intention on bringing Hadrian up on charges, at least not tonight. All he really wanted was for Hadrian to cool his heels a little in the cell while he dealt with this mess. Starbuck laid her head in Conner's lap, a subtle hint to keep scratching, getting dog hair all over Conner's clothes, but ah well.

"No one got shot, stabbed, or blown up. For Lieutenant Locke, that is exercising discretion."

"All I'm asking is that you bring it down to a minimum. Damn it, Commander, we have a file on him that's nearly a foot thick. At /least/ try to keep him from making bomb threats?" Stony said in exasperation, glancing over at Hadrian and wishing he'd just go /somewhere else/. He wasn't so silly as to hope that Hadrian would get over himself. The Renegade had his head too far up his ass to listen to anyone else.

"... but I did technically use physical force against a superior officer."

Stony stared with considerable amusement as she started to explain to him that he didn't need to arrest or bring Hadrian up on charges, trying to interrupt her once or twice, but failing to stop her. He didn't notice Maris come in, tying off the bandage and allowing Conner to keep going. Once she finally reached the end of her speech (not that Stony didn't mind hearing her talk), he shook his head and looked at her with a considerable, gentle amusement. For a minute, the Corellian Stony might have been peeked through, especially with his next comment.

"Relax, Commander, Hadrian's just going to be in there for a little while to cool his heels, nothing serious this time. And don't even get started on your involvement in this, you were just trying to keep the violence from escalating." He said with nearly a laugh in his voice, before another, newer voice entered the conversation. Voltaire looked over his shoulder in slight curiosity.

"shouldn't your ankle be seen to by a trained medical professional?"

Well, it seemed that Conner at least knew this new woman. She was dressed in a black uniform, but Stony didn't really recognize her. He didn't bother to try to get offended about her comment, lord knew he was no doctor. Stony stood up and faced her, standing next to Conner.

"Her ankle's just sprained, not broken. Medical assistance wouldn't be necessary." He addressed the woman, waiting for the reason why she was here. Stony had a feeling that it was nothing good.

"I don't suppose you've seen Colonel Beruss, have you? I have a matter of great importance to discuss with him."

Nope, nothing good at all. Stony's shoulders straightened and hardened into a square, immediate tension in his back and a squared look about his jaw. He appraised the blond woman for a moment, going from gently joking to a professional in a second. He clasped his hands behind his back in a professional, yet casual pose, inclining his head to the woman slightly.

"I am he. What can I do for you today?" Stony asked in his best 'politician' voice. His hands were white knuckled, as he began to have an inkling what was coming.

It was the same old thing.

"Wouldn't be the first time he's threatened to blow up the Station. Among other things."

The sight of the infamous Colonel Ice-Cold cutting loose enough to find his sense of humor while on duty was a matter of some mild surprise for the Wing Commander. Sure, stranger things had been known to happen, but none recently. "That kriffing cat is far more dangerous a threat to you and your men than mere explosives could ever be," Conner informed her makeshift medic, only half-joking herself. On the whole Constance liked animals, but Edijan could take a long hike off a short walkway on Nar Shaddaa for all she cared. The only reason she put up with its presence at all was because the vile creature and Hadrian were something of a package deal.

"All I'm asking is that you bring it down to a minimum. Damn it, Commander, we have a file on him that's nearly a foot thick. At /least/ try to keep him from making bomb threats?"

"Would you rather he go back to setting the bombs and not sending you notices about them instead? It took me months to convince the Lieutenant you deserved a sporting chance." Okay, now she was definitely pulling Stony's leg, if in a sardonic fashion. Conner's successful argument against her Lieutenant using explosives to eliminate all sources of irritation had not been based on its 'sporting' nature. Instead, she'd quite reasonably pointed out he risked being removed from the squadron by his behavior. While the possibility of incarceration never phased the misanthrope, the thought of being placed under a CO who didn't tolerate his many and varied (not to mention violent) quirks as well as Constance had given him pause.

As far as bringing it down to a minimum went, the Wing Commander had already done all she could. Well, okay, all she could without turning into a shrill martinet who policed the Coruscanti's behavior every minute of every day. No one wanted that, Conner least of all. If Beruss would take a closer looksee through the aforementioned foot thick file on the Renegade, he'd understand that. The Colonel's definition of what 'minimum' meant was somewhat askew, far as she could tell. Commander Bravil knew he was really requesting Frag stop occupying one of his holding cells on a regular basis. Ha! Loran and Stone will kiss and make up long before that happens.

"Relax, Commander, Hadrian's just going to be in there for a little while to cool his heels, nothing serious this time."

Their current subject of conversation may be a grand source of amusement for the MP officer, but to Conner it was serious business. Hard as seemed for Colonel Beruss to comprehend, the Renegades' commanding officer did in fact care about the squadron's demolition specialist. Since Hadrian held little concern towards whatever smudges ended up on his record, the duty to be mindful of them fell on his Commander's shoulders. She didn't want to lose him, and not only for the obvious sentimental reasons. After all, trying to find an adequate replacement for his skill set would be a royal pain in her shapely rear end. "Right, because that works so well with Frag," Conner quipped, her tone of voice shading towards the casual now that the threat to her subordinate had been dismissed. "You of all people ought to know better than that."

"And don't even get started on your involvement in this, you were just trying to keep the violence from escalating."

Conner's pale shoulders rose and fell in a small shrug beneath the narrow lavender straps of her dress. "It was worth a shot. Foiled again by my own good reputation." The small smile playing on her pink lips demonstrated how little the pilot was distressed by her failure to convince Stony of her culpability in the brawl. "I do, however, freely admit my guilt on the matter of agreeing with the exalted High General that Sorn deserved to be punched in the face. Repeatedly." Her smile transmuted into a smirk. "The things I do to ruin my own fun..."

"Hello, Connie."

The two women may have been newly acquainted, but Constance recognized the source of that surprisingly cheerful voice in an instant. Having a grip like a tractor beam tended to make a strong impression on any observers. "Maris! I wondered where you'd gotten off to." Even as the Wing Commander returned pleasantries, her gray eyes made a thorough examination of the leggy blonde's current attire. The sight of Maris in duty blacks made sense given her interactions with Villa earlier. However, the utter absence of any sort of rank or service insignia was downright perplexing. "Is Memory okay? When you two never came back inside I started to worry."

"Shouldn't your ankle be seen to by a trained medical professional?"

"Her ankle's just sprained, not broken. Medical assistance wouldn't be necessary."

"What he said," the brunette chimed in with another of her friendly smiles, waving a hand in Stony's direction. "He's fixed me up just fine for now. Besides, I'm not leaving until my subordinate is released. Oh, that's right, you never met Lieutenant Locke, did you? He's the well dressed gentleman over there who is neither bound nor unconscious." Sure, the Colonel had already made it clear Frag would be let go before too long, but Conner saw that as no reason why she couldn't enjoy the irony while it lasted. There were so few perks to her job, after all.

"I don't suppose you've seen Colonel Beruss, have you? I have a matter of great importance to discuss with him."

"I am he. What can I do for you today?"

Stars, didn't he clench up in a hurry? Voltaire had peeked out there for a while--a very interesting while--but now he was gone again, hastily smothered under the cool professionalism of Colonel Ice-Cold. What about Maris' presence brought that on Constance wasn't 100% sure. From her vantage point, it appeared Beruss was bracing himself for an attack of some sort. Not one on his body, but rather on his sensibilities. Finding no advantage in involving herself at present, Wing Commander Bravil fell silent and absorbed the scene playing out before her.

"Maris! I wondered where you'd gotten off to. Is Memory okay? When you two never came back inside I started to worry."

Connie's greeting was one to bring true joy to Maris' eyes. She smiled cheerfully and gave the Wing Commander a friendly wave. Maris liked Connie, but then again she Liked Lelouch Villa, they were both her friends for all Maris was concerned. She nodded sincerely as Memory's condition was mentioned. While swearing not to mention her condition to others, Maris commented upon it briefly, using ambiguous language.
"Yes, Memory is okay. She was feeling tired and I escorted her back to her residence." Maris said as her pleasant expression fell. All of this could have been avoided if she had remained. She blamed herself for not being in two places at once. "Your concern in noted and appreciated. But we were fine."

"Her ankle's just sprained, not broken. Medical assistance wouldn't be necessary."

"That pleases me." Spoke Maris quietly, smiling again and nodding. She would have been very upset with Villa if he had broken Connie's ankle. Considering what she was capable of, Maris was not a person to upset. But sadly, Lelouch was never in any real danger from Maris' wrath. He was a Confederate and there were certain safeguards in place to prevent life-threatening damage to the staff without extraordinary circumstances.

"What he said. [...] He's the well dressed gentleman over there who is neither bound nor unconscious."

Maris followed Connie's gaze to the man in the containment cell. She knew the other two from the Ice Tap. She smiled towards Hadrian and gave him a small wave.
"Hello, Lieutenant Locke. It is a pleasure to meet you. I only wish they were under better circumstances. Another time, perhaps." The droid spoke with genuine emotion, actually pleased to meet Hadrian Locke, the man responsible for more than half of the banned ordnance investigations in Dolomar Central.

The man kneeling at Connie's feet rose to meet her. Coldly, he stared into her eyes. Maris returned his gaze, never flinching but exuding warmth and friendship. She smiled, tilting her head to the left. His sudden change in body language wasn't lost on her either. She blinked, not fully understanding what it was she had done.

"I am he. What can I do for you today?"

"Greetings, Colonel Beruss." she chirped, drawing her eyes momentarily from his stony gaze and onto the dataslate in her hand. Twisting it to face him, she continued to speak. "By order of Grand Admiral Stone and the Confederacy of Dolomar, you are ordered to release High General Lelouch Villa into my custody immediately."
The dataslate was the hardcopy of her orders. They were airtight and with little room for leverage. Maris waited for the inevitable go ahead that was more of a pleasantry than required.

"You should. Maybe the prospect of having you for a cell mate would deter sheer idiocy."

''We’re on Dolomar, Beruss – the only thing that ends idiocy is death,'' Hadrian answered with a derisive snort from his side of the detainment cell.

Frag’s opinion about the rank and file of the Confederation was well-known amongst the Renegades – he’d never hidden to anyone exactly how high in his esteem he held anyone who swallowed the propaganda without blinking. Yet at least those particular wastes of genetic material had sheer lack of brain capacity as an excuse – Stony, not matter how the Coruscanti disliked him, was a man smart enough to know what kind of government he was serving. Hadrian Locke had graduated the absolute best of Coruscant’s most prestigious private college and been raised by two of the most dangerous politicians of the decade, so he bloody well knew a tyranny when he saw it. Voltaire Beruss was serving the Confederation of Dolomar because of what it had once been, not what it was, and unyielding allegiance to something that was so pathetic only garnered contempt from the misanthrope.

Mercury had once asked him, when the Lorrdian had reached the closest thing to exasperation he could feel, why he served the Confederation if he thought it was such a fascist government – Hadrian’s was quite simple: he saw nothing inherently wrong with being a pawn of the High Council. There was no such thing as a good government, so why did it matter whether they fought for this one or not? Even if the Rebels won, in the end the only difference would be that a few decades down the road the oppressors would be wearing blue instead of black. It was those idiots riding high horses and preaching they were serving the ‘greater good’ that got on his nerves: a killer was a killer, even if you put him in a uniform and called him a soldier. Hadrian realized that the alcohol was making him all thoughtful again and scowled virulently. Someone would have to pay for his mood, obviously, and he eyed the rookies in the corner with malevolence.


"You're on the same squad as Hadrian, aren't you? Could you /please/ try to get him to exercise some discretion, for once. I'm getting very tired of having to arrest him."

A choked laugh bubbled up the Coruscanti’s chest at Stony’s stage-whispered words and he nearly went into a coughing fit because of it. Did he seriously think Constance would try to put a muzzle on him and have him confined to house-arrest until he behaved? – for the record, the second suggestion was an extremely bad idea as Hadrian had stockpiled enough explosives in said house to be seen from orbit if he decided to start up the fireworks, but the fact was that Wing Commander Bravil was simply smarter than that. The normal disciplinary methods simply did not work with the misanthrope, that much had been proved time and time again during his military career. Reproofs slid off him like water on a duck’s back, restrictions just gave him more free time and violence brought him to a whole new level of vicious. Conner had held her own verbally against him since the beginning, and just for that she’d earned a degree of respect. The fact that she didn’t give a kriff about his attitude as long as he was devil in the cockpit had been enough to make Hadrian accept he’d met, for the first time in his career, a superior officer who knew what she was talking about. The rest was history – exceedingly violent and offensive history perhaps, but history nonetheless. Still, the misanthrope was rather curious as to what Constance would answer so he listened carefully.

"No one got shot, stabbed, or blown up. For Lieutenant Locke, that is exercising discretion."

The small smile that passed on Lieutenant Locke’s face disappeared after a fraction of a second, and he would of course deny even under the most brutal tortures that it had ever existed.

''I didn’t jam a piece of glass in Sorn’s eye and feed his corpse to hungry dogs, I deserve an official merit on my record just for that,'' he opinioned loud enough for the two officers to hear him.

Fishing a cigarra in his jacket – the rookie jumped in surprise, as he’d been frisked earlier to be relieved of those – and lighting it with a lighter that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, the misanthrope frowned thoughtfully before continuing.

''Though to be honest I didn’t mostly because I wasn’t sure I could find strays hungry enough they'd eat something that fetid,'' he added as an afterthought.

The officers got all secretive and started whispering after that, so he let himself rest against the wall again and enjoyed the cigarra with obvious pleasure. He didn’t often take the time to properly savor them these days, it had almost become a reflex. Exhaling a perfect ring of smoke – he’d tried to shape them like concussion grenades for years without success under Edijan’s mocking purrs – the Flight Lieutenant settled himself comfortably and waited for Beruss to get on with the paperwork. The Colonel didn’t have enough to keep him here very long, the pilot knew, and the MP’s professional conscience wouldn’t allow him to make up charges purely to spite the Renegade. Besides, Constance had the effect of softening most bureaucrats by her mere presence – one of the woman’s many mysterious powers – so perhaps he’d even be released back to defacing public property even quicker this time. He was disturbed out of his semblance of calm by the sound of someone walking. Hopefully it wasn’t Merc, as Hadrian wasn’t sure he tolerate the man’s hurt puppy expression without answering with several invectives about how there must have been some dog in the Lorrdian’s ascendance for him to pull it off so well. His attention was rewarded by the sight of a blond woman in uniform, however, and Frag raised an eyebrow when she nodded politely at him.

"Hello, Connie."

"Maris! I wondered where you'd gotten off to. Is Memory okay? When you two never came back inside I started to worry."

"Shouldn't your ankle be seen to by a trained medical professional?"

"Her ankle's just sprained, not broken. Medical assistance wouldn't be necessary."

"What he said. He's fixed me up just fine for now. Besides, I'm not leaving until my subordinate is released. Oh, that's right, you never met Lieutenant Locke, did you? He's the well dressed gentleman over there who is neither bound nor unconscious."

"Hello, Lieutenant Locke. It is a pleasure to meet you. I only wish they were under better circumstances. Another time, perhaps."

The woman’s words actually sounded genuine, which would have given him pause in any situation, but as it was Hadrian’s attention was drawn by something else: the Trick wasn’t working on that woman. It wasn’t unusual for people to be very hard to… well, he couldn’t exactly put a word on it, but people were just there and he could feel it when they lied. For it to work on Constance, for example, it required for his focus to be entirely on her – probably because that, for such a talkative person, she actually said very little about her private life – yet from this woman there was nothing. The impression was disquieting, and as such a second passed before he answered with a noncommittal sound. Something about this ‘Maris’ was raising his hackles and as such he moved in his cell to have a clear angle of view on her if something needed to be done. Slowly and silently, his hand reached for the back of his left sleeve and the latest flat model of the military-issued Sonic grenade fell in his hand. He knew enough about the cell’s locks to be out of it in a few seconds if need be – a properly place could disrupt the system easily – but it would be too late to do anything significant. Meaning Constance was exposed and with injury. Resisting the urge to let out a string of curses that would have made a Wookie blush, he moved his hand in Constance’s line of sight and quickly moved his hand through two basic gestures of the Renegade sign code: ‘Come’ and ‘Close’. The misanthrope wasn’t exactly sure what the hell it was about the blonde that made him so fidgety, but he’d survived this long by trusting his instincts and wasn’t about to stop.

Stony didn't even bother rising to any of Hadrian's jibes, ignoring him with a sort of cool aloofness that characterized the Colonel to his troops and those that broke military code. There was no point in paying attention to the other man's insinuations and nasty comments when Hadrian's opinion carried no weight here, and might as well be the yapping of a particularly annoying dog for all Stony really cared.

Besides, going in there and strangling Hadrian with his own bare hands would be highly unprofessional. As much as Stony knew that the Confederation needed the Renegades, that particular group had never settled quite right in his stomach. High Command continued to tolerate them though, so Stony tried to keep his nose out of their business. Besides, he wasn't a mind reader.

Which brought him back to his current situation, a blonde woman in a sleek black uniform that made him dislike her immediently, not for who she was, but for what he suspected she carried. The woman attempted to put him at his ease, but that trick had been played on him far too many times for him to say anything about it. How he knew what was going to happen? Well that was fairly simple.

This hadn't been the first time, nor the last he had arrested a high ranking officer and they had been let go. He remembered he had arrested a General at one point on charges of rape of a Corellian pilot a few years back, but within a few hours, the case was dropped and the General was released, of course. When he questioned his commanding officer on the decision, he had remembered the event quite vividly.

The officer had said, 'Who cared about some Corellian whore? A General is far more important.'

Rinse, repeat.

"By order of Grand Admiral Stone and the Confederacy of Dolomar, you are ordered to release High General Lelouch Villa into my custody immediately."

Stony felt a dull fury rising in his chest, the back of his mind that he had quieted for so long cry out that it was like all the other times, and that it was wrong. But right and wrong meant nothing to the Confederation now, in its current state. Lelouch was getting rescued, would likely be sobered up, get a slap on the wrist, and that would be the end of it. He felt bile rise in his throat, a bitterness seizing his heart and squeezing it lightly.

He stared at the blonde woman with a gaze not hostile nor understanding, but simply cold and out of the moment, as if he was on autopilot and not really thinking about what he was doing. What was the point? It would end either way. Stony handed out his hand for the datapad, shoulders still straight as a board.

"Orders?" He said harshly, a sardonic smile twisting cruelly at his mouth. Likely they were perfectly valid, but like hell he was going to make it easy on anyone.

''We’re on Dolomar, Beruss – the only thing that ends idiocy is death.''

One of the (admittedly selfish) reasons Constance appreciated having Hadrian on her squadron was his habit of saying all the things she wanted to say but couldn't. Neither of them held a good opinion of the standard issue cannon fodder the Dolomar military academies churned out every few months. Those few Confederates who'd missed out on the usual mandatory lobotomy could not help but feel a deep disdain for the many who had been victim to it. You didn't see so great a number of supposedly intelligent beings displaying such slavish and unthinking devotion outside of a warehouse full of droids all fitted with restraining bolts.

''I didn’t jam a piece of glass in Sorn’s eye and feed his corpse to hungry dogs, I deserve an official merit on my record just for that. Though to be honest I didn’t mostly because I wasn’t sure I could find strays hungry enough they'd eat something that fetid.''

While the Wing Commander managed to keep down the darkly amused snicker that threatened, the look she shoot her imprisoned compatriot was even more expressive in displaying the humor she found in his words. She never would've thought to put her dislike for Sorn in such... colorful language, but she shared the sentiment all the same. People like Sorn--and Villa, come to think of it--represented the worst of the Confederation, and the galaxy would undoubtedly be changed for the better were the sniper to meet an untimely death. Conner repressed a small pang of jealousy for whomever in the rebellion would be awarded the much envied role of offing the High Colonel.

"Hello, Lieutenant Locke. It is a pleasure to meet you. I only wish they were under better circumstances. Another time, perhaps."

Apparently her Lieutenant's destructive reputation did not carry quite as far in the service as she'd believed. Either that, or Maris was demonstrating another one of her odd personality traits. The thought that such a straight-laced individual as the mystery Confederate would enjoy meeting a man who'd broken Dolomarian law more often than many members of the Alliance was downright confounding. Conner didn't think the shapely blonde was being sarcastic; Maris behaved in a fashion far more inclined towards playing the ultimate 'straight man' of any given comedy routine. Frag didn't seem to know what to make of her either, considering the strange look he favored her with before uttering one of his infamous disaffected grunts.

"Greetings, Colonel Beruss. By order of Grand Admiral Stone and the Confederacy of Dolomar, you are ordered to release High General Lelouch Villa into my custody immediately."

Well, that explained it--not only what Maris' association with the exalted High General was, but what the frink she was doing here, as well as why Beruss had locked up solid as soon as she'd asked for him. No doubt he was rather accustomed to his beloved rule of law being bent, mangled, folded, torn, and spindled in favor of senior Confederate officers after so many years of being an MP. Despite Villa's shameful behavior this evening, it seemed he'd be leaving incarceration far sooner than Hadrian would.

This rankled Constance to no end, and she had half a mind to tell Stony so. However, one glance in her fellow Corellian's direction convinced her to hold her tongue. She knew well the expression he was wearing: the tightening of his jaw, the buildup of repressed rage turning his eyes a lambent shade of green, the pressing of his lips tightly together in order to hold back words better left unsaid. She'd seen similar indicators on her own face whenever she'd looked in the mirror in private, after a particularly bad day of serving those she hated.

Motion within the interior of Hadrian's cell drew her interest next. Years of practice in repressing her emotions kept any hint of surprise or curiosity from showing on her pale countenance as her mind interpreted Frag's seemingly casual hand motions. It was rare for any of the Renegades to utilize some part of the set of nonverbal cues they'd developed over the years to coordinate field maneuvers in front of outsiders. The fact he was resorting to them now to get her attention meant the Coruscanti viewed the current situation with the same seriousness he would the field of battle.

Why this was escaped Conner for the moment, as there didn't seem to be anything going on for the demolitions expert to be concerned about. That didn't really matter though; the fact Frag was worried at all was more than sufficient reason for her to go on high alert herself. Turning her gray-eyed gaze back on Voltaire and Maris before the fact her focus had drifted might be noticed by her 'fellow' Confederates in the room, Constance twitched her left index finger in the subtle motion that meant 'Acknowledged' to those few in the know.

"Orders?"

Leaning forward, the brunette slipped free the shoe still fastened to her right foot so she wouldn't be forced to walk lopsided. In a maneuver the other observers present would no doubt attribute to her wishing to get out of the 'line of fire' between the MP and the Grand Admiral's messenger, Conner rose quietly to her feet. The extra support provided by the bandage Beruss so kindly wrapped around her damaged left ankle allowed the Wing Commander to keep her limp subtle as she crossed the room towards the row of detention cells lining the far wall.

Soon she stood close enough to the security field of Hadrian's cell to feel faint crackles of static electricity skittering over her exposed flesh. Both dark brows quirked upward in silent question as she locked gazes with those familiar verdant eyes across the transparent blue barrier separating them. Whatever he had planned, he'd bloody well let her in on it first, was all her conscience had to say.

After the initial greeting was given to Hadrian Locke, Maris gave him little more consideration. He didn't respond to her pleasantries, but that wasn't uncommon amongst the Confederation. Half the time, her words seemed to fall on deaf ears; the Dolomarian military machine wasn't built upon small talk and enquiries of health. But in the few seconds that her gaze did linger on the demolitions expert, his agitation was noted. However, Maris put this down to his confinement more than anything she had said. She had been nothing but polite and courteous to the bomber.

The reaction she was receiving from Colonel Beruss was far from what she expected from someone who had served the Confederation for so many glorious years. The constant threat analysis protocols had him flagged and the prospect of a physical encounter rose steadily. Governor circuits released their hold if the situation escalated. That action was unnecessary however. It seemed that the Colonel was a man with his facilities in check. Maris continued to smile, pleased that escalation was not on Voltaire's mind.

The fact that Connie had slipped away from the confrontation hadn't been lost on the droid. Maris glanced towards her as she lurked around the flickering containment field of Hadrian's cell. She didn't read much into her relocation and although the subtle gestures between the two Renegades was observed, the secretive battle sign was overlooked. Her attentions were drawn back to Colonel Beruss as he snapped his hand towards her.

"Orders?"

Maris slowly tracked down to the awaiting hand and placed the dataslate into it. She met his eyes again with a smile.
"Please take your time in reviewing them, but I assure you that everything is in order." With her hands now free, she cupped them in her lap with her scrutiny firmly placed upon the Colonel to observe his reaction. She wasn't expecting anything accept acceptance. Anything else, including what Maris now perceived as resentment earlier was quite peculiar. She didn't understand why she was fostering such a reaction within the Colonel. They were all part of the Confederation and their actions were for the betterment of society. The orders she had just delivered into his hands were not illegal; quite the contrary. Grand Admiral Stone was well within her rights. Maris waited patiently for the inevitable submission to Dolomarian rule.

Hadrian was always up to something, always working some angle, so Stony wasn't at all surprised when he skulked towards the entrance of the cell and tried to get Conner's attention. The Renegades were thick as thieves, and Hadrian was pretty good at this sort of thing, but Stony made it a point to be aware of his surroundings, despite whatever anger he was holding onto at the time. In a way, Stony was almost hoping that Hadrian would do something, so he'd have an excuse to shoot the pain in the ass in the head and it would all be over. But as it was, he had more important concerns. Despite the unknown rank of the messenger, he was still as tense as if he was in formation, or infront of Xira Stone herself.

"Please take your time in reviewing them, but I assure you that everything is in order."

"I'm sure." Stony replied dryly, taking the datapad and looking down at it, scrolling through the orders. Not that he knew that they would be anything but perfect, but he was stalling for time. Besides, even if there was a flaw in the orders, it still didn't mean anything considering who it was coming from.

Finally, he frowned in disgust, and thrust the datapad at Maris, his green eyes carefully blank though his body stance said quite differently. He looked over and nodded at the one officer, who frowned in equal distaste and was not nearly so good at hiding his reaction as he deactivated the force field in Lelouch's cell, though it didnt' look like the General would be moving anytime soon.

"Everything looks to be in order. Fine, take him." He said coldly, and though it was a subtle sign of rebellion, he had no intention of offering the assistance of his officers until Maris asked. Starbuck looked up and walked over, nails clipping against the hard floor, and stared at Maris with a gaze that was a little bit unfriendly. Usually when her master acted like this to another person, it was a criminal, so no one could blame the shepard for not realizing what was going on. The dog's lip curled just a little to show a bit of fang, and a low growl, but Stony put a stop to that fairly quickly with a hand on her head.

The dog was clearly disturbed by Maris' presence, though it had never occured to Stony it might have been because of the hidden nature of the woman, more than her master being upset. Starbuck had never been a fan of droids.