CWT1 James "Morpheus" Mundy (Former PC)

A short, wiry man with flaming red hair, gray eyes, and the appearance of someone in their early 20s, James does not look like he could possibly be a veteran of the First Cylon War. His 5’4”, 137-pound frame fit the mental image people get when his talents and background are explained to them. People are not surprised to learn that he can barely lift the larger electronic systems he works with, nor that he is usually knocked out by the first punch to connect. His alert bearing and graceful movements, along with the obvious air of intelligent consideration about him, demonstrate his lifelong residence aboard space stations and interplanetary vessels.

Despite being a “lightweight” in terms of physical fortitude or power, James is extremely well-coordinated, very aware of his surroundings, and--as one pays more attention to him--clearly always ready and scanning for “action”…especially combat. His movements are extremely smooth--even in microgravity--and his native intelligence comes through when discussing intellectual topics (especially electronics). Looking into his eyes for more than a handful of seconds, however, will show off the ghosts of a war hard-fought and barely ended at extremely high cost. Despite his smooth grace, he moves relatively slowly, and when not focusing on a task, the low-key but constant pain of his body shows in the lines and the set of his mouth.

He is normally found in the Green Colonial Duty Fatigues, his Petty Officer First Class rank clean, legible, but dulled (in wartime fashion) with a Fleet Intelligence (crossed lightning bolt and key underneath a sphinx) unit patch on his left shoulder. If he is flying (whether for a mission or just being transported), he wears his issued Flight Suit; his left shoulder bears a Fleet Intelligence unit patch, his right shoulder patch (black with white letters) reads “ELINT/ELSEC” (denoting his ELectronic INTelligence/ELectronic SECurity duties), his left collar carries dulled Petty Office First Class rank (making him an uncommon sight amongst Flight Crew), and his right collar bears Enlisted Flight Wings (Junior Flight Wings with the center diamond colored green). In either uniform, he is never without his gun-belt, carrying the same CAL Mark 10 “Warrior” sidearm that he was issued upon joining the Colonial Fleet 52 years ago, along with three spare helical magazines of 9X19mm Accelerated Energy Transfer rounds (he keeps another in the weapon unless he is cleaning it), two 20X30mm High Explosive rounds (unless going into combat, he does not keep the UBGL on his pistol loaded), a Military-Spec multitool (at half the width and full length of a paperback book, being made out of material usually used for hull armor, a hefty 2 kilos), reinforced Krypton flashlight with three spare batteries and (usually) a few snack bars. His current co-workers are always surprised at how such a small man still moves gracefully with such a relatively heavy belt (and to the current Colonial Fleet, it is), not to mention the speed with which the “tech geek” draws his weapon from his right thigh and trains it on coworkers who startle him when he is intently concentrating on something.

On the rare formal occasions he is forced to wear a Dress Gray uniform, his meticulously-groomed uniform and highly-shined decorations draw attention to him. (Which is why he avoids formal occasions as much as possible, including volunteering for hazardous flight duties on ELINT Raptor missions.) Of course, besides his highly-shined enlisted rank, his Enlisted Flight Wings immediately draw peoples’ eyes. People then notice his gold Star of Kobol…which sits right next to his gold Colonial Achievement Medal. As people wander how such an apparently young NCO has over 20 years in and that many achievement medals, they then spot his Distinguished Service Order and Hero of Kobol. As, by this point, they have wandered up to ask James the stories behind his awards, they miss the three Colonial Gold Stars…which saves him explaining how someone too young for the Cylon War earned a wartime-only citation.

No one has yet seen him in “civilian clothes”; other than Fleet-issue PT gear and nondescript sweats to sleep in, the only other outfit anyone has seen him in is when he puts on an EVA suit and spends a couple hours out on the hull.

(Notes from his Unclassified Fleet Psych Evaluation, 51 CY)
Moeris James Mundy--preferably “James”--is an interesting study in contrasts. He is unrelenting in his duty to the Colonial Military--tolerating no shirking in any duty, no matter how unpleasant--yet constantly criticizing “contemporary Colonials”; this manifests as no tolerance for humor, familiarity, or relaxed attitudes from those subordinate to him at the same time as he consistently points out the failings and poor planning of those around him. Only veterans of the Cylon War, those who have proven themselves under dangerous conditions, or co-workers whose work ethic and dedication to duty James assesses as matching his own are exempt from this hard-edged contempt and sarcastic derision. He is, however, equally judgmental towards his own performance, and gives just as scathing reviews of his own performance when he falls short of his standards.

He has a notable tendency of referencing the superiority of military policies and procedures in effect during (or immediately after) the “First Cylon War” when compared to current Colonial military practices. He will freely admit that basic crew conditions, survivability, and training procedures are significantly improved in comparison to those areas during the Cylon War; he firmly maintains--despite the results of Adar Administration studies to the contrary--that Fleet readiness and combat effectiveness are far below such levels during the middle years of the war, let alone the closing years. James insists (again, despite contemporary exercises and evaluations) that the Fleet’s current deployments and vessels are nowhere near the standards necessary to “counter or at least halt a renewed Cylon offensive”. His comments about the Adar Administration begin at “scathing” and rapidly descend into vulgar (although very educated and pertinent) insults.

It should also be noted that James freely admits to having no problems sacrificing personnel (including himself) if there is no other method to accomplish an important mission, controlled and pre-planned rigorous questioning, or even sacrificing a few to save the many. He also refuses to be unarmed (or out of uniform) at any time (oddly, the request to Fleet Command to have him report to psychological evaluations unarmed was denied), as well as appearing to be constantly alert if not focusing on some specific task. Unfortunately, no significant information about James other than the very basic Fleet dossier is available, although it appears that a great deal was either redacted from records or remains classified. Given no other data on his psychological patterns, I must immediately remand him to an Inpatient Psychiatric Facility for treatment, especially given his persistent (although subtle) delusion of having served in the Cylon War despite clearly being no older than 31 or 32. His success at hiding such a belief (although he puts on a very good “humble veteran” act) from other psychological specialists supporting the Fleet both amazes and worries me. (After all, if he managed to get past them, then who else has? This is why the Adar policies on civilian specialists in Fleet Medical are so needed.)

(From TS/BROKEN VALOR Fleet Intelligence Psych Evaluation, 51 CY)
Upon reviewing the notes of the Unclassified Psych Evaluation that was performed by <<REDACTED>> upon PO1 M. James “Morpheus” Mundy, I have come to the conclusions that, 1) Psych Evaluations should only be performed upon PO1 Mundy by specialists fully cleared for his background, and, 2) That thanks to the Adar Administration, the Fleet is filling up with more and more weak-hearted, fool-hardy, completely clueless Cylon apologists. (For the record, PO1 Mundy was cleared and returned to duty.) I can understand why an non-cleared civilian psychologist would think that Mundy is in desperate need of heavy-duty in-patient psychiatric treatment, but given his history…

…He is remarkably well adjusted. Having lived through watching his home station (and most of the people he had grown up with) destroyed at the beginning of the Cylon War, he then immediately enlisted (at 15, but the Fleet really couldn’t be choosy at that point) and put his extensive knowledge of electronics and Cylon systems to work. He survived 12 years of war--despite volunteering for some of the most dangerous missions of the war--and not only face the usual horrors of his fellows, but also had to face the Cylons in cyberwarfare. He not only maintained his sanity, but actually occasionally defeated the Cylons at their own strong suite. After a year of peacetime, he volunteered for an experimental program developing systems for long-range colony vessels…

…And ended up a man out of time, 37 years later, in a society where the “decadence” and “convenient answers” was again holding sway. I am sure that this would be unpopular with the current Administration (and their appointees in all areas), but Mundy is damn-well entitled to his opinions, wariness, and professional paranoia. He “paid cash” to save us from our previous mistakes under those influences, and he was one of the top three cyberwarfare specialists in the Cylon War. He was also the only notable cyberwarfare specialist who was also involved in intercepting and decoding Cylon transmissions (which I am briefed were basically just encrypted transmissions in the various programming languages the Cylons utilized)…so he can legitimately say, given his high electronic intercept and cyberwarfare success rates, that he pretty well has read the minds of the Cylons. So I say that we allow the guy (who is a legitimate, if mostly unsung by his own choice, hero of the Cylon War) his foibles.

Sure, he is always armed. Sure, he treats most of the young kids currently in the Fleet like they are poseurs playing at being military. Sure, he openly--though quietly--makes his harsh opinions of the current Administration’s military policies intelligently known if either asked or sufficiently provoked by CDF who are missing the “obvious” indicators. Yes, he has managed to insult the staffs (or the persons) of seven of the thirteen currently-serving full Admirals in the Fleet by presenting blunt, completely truthful security assessments and intelligence briefings that are not what they want to hear…But Mundy has a damn good track record about being right (not always, as he freely admits), and he has never been one to change his intelligence for ANYONE.

So he is notably detached from his fellows, will only even attempt to form bonds with Cylon War vets, younger Fleet who have competently handled SNAFUBAR situations, and “properly paranoid AND notably competent Contemporary servicemembers”; offsetting that is the fact that he always shows proper respect to the rank of those above him without being insubordinate, his VERY proven track record, and the fact that Mundy spend 37 years essentially dreaming about the 12 years of war he was hoping to escape! I say we let him do his thing, and only start worrying if he actually kills anyone unnecessarily, gets religious, or starts saying that he believes the Cylon threat is diminished without solid proof. He works, so why don’t we let him do what he does best, cover him from irritated senior officer-politicians, and keep him away from the civilian support if possible.

(From his Fleet Dossier)
--Master Rating, Electronic Intelligence Interception (Cylon)
--Master Rating, Electronic Security Operations
--Master Rating, Combat Cyberwarfare
--Master Rating, Intelligence Analysis and Briefing
--Expert Rating, Electronic Systems Maintenance
--Qualified Expert, Fleet Sidearms
--Bachelor’s Degree, Electronic Engineering
--Honorary Bachelor’s Degree: Cylon War History
--Basic Rating, Mechanical Systems Maintenance
--Colonial Civilian Space Pilot License (Basic Rating, 3708 flight hours)
--Colonial Fleet Enlisted Flight Wings (Basic Raptor/Shuttle Rating, 540 flight hours)
--Qualified Master, Colonial Fleet Microgravity Proficiency Standards
--Granted Full Medical Exemption, Colonial Fleet PT Test

In a nutshell, James is a space-borne technical whiz; his major talents are Hacking (both to intercept/decode Cylon transmissions and to defend against Cylon Cyberwarfare), understanding/maintaining the electronics he works on, analyzing the intelligence he intercepted, focusing on a given task, and the history of the First Cylon War (he lived through it). Thanks to growing up on a Waypoint Station, he also learned the basics of piloting, mechanical maintenance, and has spent more time EVA or in microgravity than most of the Fleet.

Moeris James “Morpheus” Mundy was born and grew up on Delta-Sierra-One-Three (also known as “Jinx Point”), a Leon-Class Way Station that was one of three sitting at various LaGrange points between the two Cyrannus Binary Pairs. While “Jinx Point” actually had quite good luck--suffering no disasters or even notable damage--during its existence, it was also the site of some weird phenomenon due to the mild gravity shifts in its centermost LaGrange point. While sited on the most direct (and quickest) route between the two subsystems, only civilian vessels in a hurry or military vessels took that route due to the mild--but navigationally taxing--gravity shifts. Thus, James grew up and got to know the crews of priority couriers, government fast transports, and a wide range of military vessels…the last of which heavily influenced his future career choices.

Of course, James (only family and close friends are allowed to use the given name amongst the multi-generational crews of the various deep space way stations) was born to the family that had been critical to and (usually) administering “Jinx Point” since it was being built, the Mundys. His father was the senior tug pilot, his grandmother was the station’s Chief Medical Officer, his grandfather was Traffic Control Director and his mother was Station Administrator. He and his five-years-older sister were raised--along with their gaggle of cousins--in the tradition of Mundy devoted service to “Jinx Point”. He could move in microgravity as well as 1.5 Caprican gravity by the time he was 5, he was fixing station electronic with his older sister Adele by the time he was 7, and he had his Civilian Space Pilot License (Basic Rating) when he was 10. He, like his older sister, showed a strong aptitude for electronics; both were taught the basics of mechanics, of course, and both also demonstrated notable pistol skills. Thanks to James and Adele kindly assisting the Greystone Industries technician that maintained the station’s small number of Cylons (as well as those on any visiting ships), the Greystone Industries tech taught them how to maintain and program Cylons…as well as sponsoring them for internships with Greystone industries as soon as they each turned 21.

James had a relatively happy childhood, and was looking forward to going into the family business--running the station--after working a couple years with Greystone Industries…until the First Cylon War. (And he has always called it the “First Cylon War”; he paid attention in history class, and doubts it is over.) Luckily, “Jinx Point” kept all of its small number of Cylons in a dedicated maintenance area located in an attached workshop module. When the rebellion started, the tech happened to spot the initiating code, take a good guess at what it meant, and blow the workshop module off of the airlock it was docked to. That saved the station--although they had no idea what was going on--for eight days. During that time, the 378 residents of “Jinx Point”, along with the four visiting ships and their 102 visiting crew, prepared as best they could for whatever was going on.

And then the Guardian-class Escortstar ‘Auriga’ jumped in, moderately damaged…and unknowingly home to a Cylon tracking beacon. “Jinx Point” and its current residents managed to guide the ‘Auriga’ into a safe docking with the station as Administrator Mundy mobilized all of the resources available to repair, refit, and rearm the Escortstar…and then listened to the horror-story of its crew about being nearly overwhelmed by suddenly-homicidal, utterly remorseless, Cylons. James and Adele, being both proficient with Cylon coding and talented with electronics, were detailed to help clean and repair the systems of the ‘Auriga’ enough for it make it to a dock of the suddenly-formed Colonial Fleet. (The only reason the ‘Auriga’ had escaped was because its junior navigator had served for several years on a commercial priority courier that used “Jinx Point” and she had memorized the jump tables.) For 14 long hours, Adele, James, and the remaining electronics specialists aboard the ‘Auriga’ fought the Cylon attack programs; they finally wrested limited success, managing to clear enough of the network to force all sub-systems to lock themselves into local control. Another hour, and the ad hoc cyberwarfare team had managed to restore limited sublight helm, jump drive, limited DRADIS, and functional weapons (albeit on complete manual turret control)…just in time for the ‘Auriga’ to spot a Hades-class Basestar jump in and begin a cautious, slow approach from three light-seconds out. As the station had been educated by fighting the Cylon infection in the systems of the ‘Auriga’, the Cylon attack had limited effectiveness, and did not touch station life support, launch control, or point defense. The Cylons sent in 100 Raiders, thinking that the sole (known to them) survivor of their previous engagement (the ‘Auriga’) had fled back to a Fleet base that they could then surprise. Unfortunately for them, their cautious approach to a structure they had no data on (since the Cylons that had been on “Jinx Point” were limited by bandwidth issues to uplinking once or twice a year, and had not managed to transmit back data after the War started) merely meant that the station managed to stuff most of its “non-combatants” into various merchant ships and rig the station for scuttling. The merchants ran, but the ‘Auriga’ stayed alongside, baiting the Cylons into the trap; the robots obligingly took the bait…with the full force of a Basestar. Half-blind, maneuvering like a drunken sailor, and without advanced fire control, the ‘Auriga’ had almost no hope. The Cylons managed to slip a large boarding party onto the station, leading to James being the last person off of “Jinx Point” as he and his family ran to the ‘Auriga’ airlock. He still clearly remembers his sister throwing him into the waiting arms of a Marine right as the ship’s crew slammed the hatch shut behind James…who then got to watch Centurions gun down his family, and then observe their corpses get blown into space as ‘Auriga’ ran for it under an intense battering. Only the surprise intervention (and lucky jump navigation right behind the Basestar) of the Escortstar ‘Chiron’ and its air wing allowed the ‘Auriga’ to escape, with the ‘Chiron’ following closely behind.

After two days of completely-emotionless, bare-minimum existence, as the ‘Chiron’ and ‘Auriga’ conducted a series of jumps to try (and finally successfully) lose the Cylons, James found the senior electronics technician he had worked with and requested--despite being only 15--to be enlisted in the Colonial Fleet. The tech passed the request up his chain of command (in person and accompanied by James); it eventually ended up before the Commander of the ‘Auriga’, who quickly reviewed applicable (just transmitted) Colonial Military Regulations, found the loophole, and swore James in. He was issued a uniform, a sidearm, and an electronics console next to the tech he had asked to swear him in a mere five hours later. For the next nine months, he learned “military necessities” from the crew, while he provided a “ship’s mascot” (and superior electronics/ELINT tech); this was also when his talent at intercepting/understanding Cylon transmissions and engaging them in cyberwarfare were first noticed. His perfect memory, combined with a talent for technology, natural mathematical ability, and considerable knowledge of Cylon programming made him a rare resource…after all, almost everyone else with a similar combination of talent and knowledge had either been maintaining the Cylons or providing human officers for their ships. This came to the attention of an increasingly-desperate Fleet Command on the eve of a critical mission, and they had him transferred to the staging base.

James was asked to assist in producing a worm that the ‘Warden’ assault team could easily implement to counter the Cylon programs infesting its computers. He did two better, first by spreading around his knowledge of then-current Cylon programming languages with the few still-living Computer Ph.D.s working on the mission, and second by volunteering to not only teach the assault teams how to install it, but to accompany them. Despite Command’s doubts, James trained hard with the Marines and Pilots of the assault team and managed to pass (just barely, but still) the practical tests with the needed scores to go on the mission. The rest of the assault force--while initially skeptical--came to grudgingly respect “the plucky tech-munchkin” as he taught them, voluntarily trained with them, and finally passed all of the tests (although just barely on some of the physical standards). Thus James boarded the ‘Warden’ with the second wave of the assault (mostly medics, techs, and engineers given enough combat training to have a chance of surviving) and--with all 17 Marines that could be spared to guard him--made his way to the heavy fighting for the CIC. Seeing an opportunity as the Marines forced the Centurions back, James and five Marines managed to make it into the Computer Core; while the five Marines desperately held off the increasing efforts of the Cylons to retake the Core, James managed to slice through enough Cylon security programs to allow him to insert the tape worm into the systems of the ‘Warden’…several times completely ignoring the bullets literally zipping and ricocheting mere inches from him. Unfortunately, this came at high cost, as all five Marine with him lost their lives, and despite his accurate shooting, he was saved from being literally torn apart by Centurions thanks to a barely-successful Marine counter-thrust. For his actions, he was awarded the Distinguished Service Order, his first Colonial Gold Star, and his first Colonial Achievement Medal; all of the Marines that had accompanied him were posthumously awarded the Medal of Valor.

James then spent the next ten years refining his understanding of Cylons, cyberwarfare, and--by all accounts--almost learning to read the Cylons’ mind. During this time, he served onboard the Battlestars ‘Warden’, ‘Olympia’, ‘Minerva’, ‘Illustrious’, ‘Atlantia’, and ‘Argus’, along with the Escortstars “Chiron’ and a couple Hunter-Classes; he earned several more medals during this time (bronze and silver Star of Kobol, silver Colonial Achievement Medal, two more Colonial Gold Stars, made PO1, and finally formally earned his Enlisted Flight Wings)…most of which was spent either decoding and making sense of Cylon transmissions, or engaging Cylons in cyberwarfare with powerful, dedicated stand-alone supercomputers, bleeding-edge software, and strong but isolated wide-band transceiver systems. During the last year of the war, however, he was transferred (at his own request) to Fleet Headquarters. He conferred with the other members of the “Top Ten”--the ten best cyberwarfare and ELINT specialists in the Fleet--and came to a startling conclusion: The Cylons were holding back. Not as in “going easy” on the Colonials, but as in “dedicating necessary resources to a major project”; since the majority of the group had reached the same conclusion, they presented their assessments and evidence to Fleet Command. While Fleet Command was considering this, a small Colonial ELINT ship caught a lucky break and intercepted transmissions from a relatively remote ice planet…transmissions that, when decoded, showed a major Cylon presence on the “Gods-forsaken ice ball”. James, along with the “Big Ten”, were sent along, split between the Battlestars ‘Columbia’ and ‘Galactica’, to support Operation Raptor Talon. James got lucky, and was aboard ‘Galactica’…several of his peers--and close friends--were killed aboard the ‘Columbia’. James, along with the four other remaining “Big Ten”, watched as the radically-different (from an ELINT/cyberwarfare stance) Basestar ran away. He was amongst the first to be aware that the Cylons were transmitting an Armistice, as he and the other four managed to decode the Cylon transmission before they had transmitted it in the clear to the Colonials. His contribution to Operation Raptor Talon earned him his Gold Colonial Achievement Medal…and a desire to find some sort of peace.

After contributing as much as he could to R&D, ELINT, ELSEC, and pissing off several of the more politically-oriented Admirals with his no-bullshit assessments, James volunteered for an experimental program that was testing technologies necessary for long-range colony missions. James arrived at the distant, highly-classified research station on the very edges of the Cyrannus heliopause at the very end of CY 13. He learned all about the “cryogenic suspension” technology that he and 119 other volunteers would be trying out; he was fully briefed on all of the simulations, animal trials, and tests with over 300 comatose human patients…and how the last 200 human tests had succeeded flawlessly. James reviewed the data, agreed with their assessments, and stepped into his cryogenic suspension capsule (each in individual survival pods) to “sleep” away a year. Of course, what no comatose patient could have told the researchers was that the “time under” was not dreamless, but actually one continuous lucid dream. And James had a great many things he had been trying to avoid dreaming about…

He awoke, surrounded by unfamiliar uniforms in a very familiar setting; his first reaction was “No Fracking Dreams? NO FRACKING DREAMS MY ASS!”, to the extreme confusion of the Fleet Officers and Colonial scientists surrounding him. He took the news that his survival pod had been recovered, drifting near the Erebos belt, by the Battlestar ‘Talos’ quite well. He took the date of CY 50 calmly, and was comfortably talking with the civilian Psychologist willingly--if reservedly--for several hours until her rather cute (and extremely liberal pro-Adar) intern made a bad judgment call based on poor observation. When discussing the fact that he was refusing to relinquish his sidearm (not that any of the Fleet personnel, all of whom had seen his file, were planning on making him part with it), the intern asked him “Why?” . (Keep in mind that the intern was not cleared to know anything other than his name, and was interviewing him in a sterile hospital room. James--still mildly groggy from 37 years as a “mancicle”--was not made aware that the intern only had a Confidential Clearance, unlike her TS/SCI-cleared supervisor.) Here is an informal transcript:

James: “Because, given the way the Cylons were evolving, amassing resources, the precision execution of their withdrawal, and exact timing of their armistice transmission as just AFTER that oddly-emitting and freakishly-fast-adapting oddly-shaped Basestar managed to escape Raptor Talon. Cylons are nothing if not methodical, logical, precise, and ruthless; if that ship was important enough to them to CEASE THE WAR as a DISTRACTION to ensure ITS ESCAPE, I am fracking sure it is no good for us.”
Intern: “Uh….” (Having no clue about Raptor Talon’s goals; the public is subtly but firmly encouraged to believe that only major battle on the last day of the War was Tauron.)
James: “So, have they come back around to say ‘Hi!’ and inflict another couple million dead yet?”
Intern: “The Cylons were driven off at the Battle of Tauron; upon the Fleet’s flanking maneuvers, the Cylons were forced to concede their inability to sustain sufficient logistical support in the face of a veteran, well-equipped Fleet.” (Reciting from her college History class.)
James: “Huh….!??” (Quirking both eyebrows and clearly confused by this statement.)
Intern: “Simply put, the well-armed and elitely-trained Fleet--perhaps overly well-armed, as the peace has shown--surprised the Cylons while they were attempting to take Tauron, drove off the supporting Cylon vessels--destroying several Basestars for the cost of a handful of Escortstars and the Battlestar ‘Columbia’--and then landed reinforcements on Tauron, handily mopping up the Cylon ‘hold-outs’ after the Cylons transmitted the Armistice upon realizing that the Colonies were too tough for them to take-” (She is stopped in her condescending ‘lesson’ by James’ upheld index finger and steadily-increasing glare.)
James: “I do not know what they are teaching you in History these days, but trust when I say that we sure the FRACK DID NOT ‘drive off’ the Cylons from Tauron. We pulled the Fleet back from Tauron engagement AFTER landing an additional five divisions and copious supplies two weeks before. We conceded temporary control of Tauron--which was proving to be a relatively tough nut for the Cylons to crack even before we landed five DIVISIONS of Marines--in order to concentrate the remaining Battlestars around the other strategically-vital points. We got lucky, and happened to manage to have three Battlestars, fourteen Escortstars, and some assorted support vessels free for ONE--and only FRACKING ONE--offensive operation. Given the ELINT we were getting, Fleet Command focused on some unnamed ice-ball way the frack away from anything remotely important that the Cylons had held since the war started. Over that damned ice ball--and for no apparent strategic gain--we lost nine Escortstars, ‘Columbia’, and a great many damn fine men and women. Hell, if had not been for some young rook--‘Busker’, ‘Heckle’, Shucker, or something like that--Fleet Intel would not have noticed that ship’s departure. So don’t damn well tell me we ‘drove the Cylons off’ with some bullshit flank attack.”
Intern: (Pauses for nearly thirty seconds, then speaks.) “I…see.” (When James narrows his eyes, she continues after a slight pause.) “So how long have you been relieving the past? Especially the Cylon War?”
James: “Thirty-seven years, eleven months, and twenty-nine days, as of five hours ago.” (He is being completely honest.)
Intern: “I see.” (Drinks some water.) “What happened thirty-eight years ago, then?” (James looks at her like she is a total idiot.)
James: “I volunteered for a top-secret cryogenic suspension testing program, having been promised that it would be a ‘deep, DREAMLESS sleep’ and should therefore give me peace from the horribly-fracked up dreams about the Cylon War I had been having for about a year.” (The Intern nods, clearing believing she is making progress as she rapidly takes down notes.)
Intern: “Given your age, don’t you mean seventeen years ago?” (She gets another ‘Idiot!’ stare from James.)
James: “No, I said the exact period of time I fracking meant. Just because my memory is still a little fuzzy on very small details does not mean that I lost my ‘perfect’ memory.” (Intern cocks an eyebrow, a tight, smug smirk on her lips.)
Intern: “Very well. Could you at least tell me why you need an empty gun as a security blanket if you are not going to be serious?” (She gets a rather impressive ‘What the Frack?!’ expression from James.)
James: “Not empty.” (Thinks for a few moments.) “What is your clearance?”
Intern: “Oh, no. You are not going to pull the ‘Top Secret’ excuse on me. Whatever your actual job in the Defense Forces-”
James: “Fleet. I AM in the Fleet.”
Intern: “-WAS, you are now here for treatment. I understand that you may have had some traumatic experiences, but until you can face reality” (James facepalms.) “and accept that no matter what your delusions of grandeur may wish for, the Cylon War is over, done with, and certainly well behind us as a civilization.” (Unnoticed by either Intern or James, the Doctor and a Fleet Intel Rear Admiral walk in and silently close the door behind them.) “I am sorry that the Fleet had to let you go, but the sooner you accept that the way of the future is to get resize the Defense Forces to our ACTUAL needs so as not to again antagonize the Cylons like we did forty years ago, the better-” (James looks up, locking eyes with the Intern.)
James: “You really have no FRACKING idea what went on in your own recent history, do you? And given the assuredness behind your statements, you were in the majority opinion at your liberal--Caprican, from your accent--university. Which means that there is probably at least one entire GENERATION who is so ill-educated on their own history that they cannot even date their anti-military idiotic propaganda correctly.” (At her gaping expression, James smiles.) “What you meant to say was that myrmidons like myself antagonized the Cylons with our harsh slave-like treatment of them until they finally rose up to rightfully throw off their evil enslaving military overlords FIFTY YEARS AGO. Since you obviously are unarmed in this battle of wits, completely clueless as to my situation, and outright offensive to me, please FRACKING LEAVE!” (He points with his left hand at the door.)
Fleet Intel Admiral: “Uh, she is not cleared. If you mentioned anything from ‘Broken Valor’, she will need to either sign the non-disclosure forms or be ‘redacted’.” (He looks slightly resigned at James’ nod ‘Yes’, then pulls out a thick sheaf of forms from his briefcase and turns to the intern.)
Intern: “He was telling the truth, wasn’t he? The government was experimenting on its own people!”
James: “I volunteered.” (At the Rear Admiral’s glare, he mouths ‘If she is signing forms anyway’. The Rear Admiral is NOT amused.)
Intern: “That is even worse. They played on the trust of loyal--if obviously misguided--members of the Defense Forces to-”
James, Rear Admiral, and Doctor: (In unison) “THE FRACKING FLEET!”
Intern: “-illegally experiment on its own people in ethically-repugnant tests of unproven technology. I need to blow the whistle on this! I Will NOT Sign those sheets! Go Ahead, ‘REDACT’ ME!”
James: “Okay.” (He smoothly and easily brings his sidearm up and shoots the Intern twice the head, splattering her brains over the far wall; the Doctor and the Rear Admiral had moved to positions flanking the Intern once they started speaking. As James smoothly re-holsters his sidearm in the gun belt hanging from an IV Tree, he notices the troubled expressions on the faces of the other two.) “Not how we Redact people anymore?” (Both shake their heads ‘No’.) “Damn. Sorry, then. I though we still did. (The Rear Admiral just sits down at the barely-untouched desk and begins pulling out more forms out of his briefcase while the Doctor begins explaining things to the nurses, aides, and guards that have burst in.)

And after that, Fleet Intelligence tried to keep James as far away from both liberal civilians and non-Fleet Intelligence psychological specialists as possible. Given his honest misunderstanding (that actually is the proper response in regard to ‘redacting’ unauthorized personnel possessing classified knowledge during WARTIME) and--primarily--the absurdly high classification that James’ history was hid under, it was covered up. James was given extensive training in updated regulations and cover stories; Fleet Intelligence, however, intervened to ensure that he is always legally entitled to remain armed given the highly-sensitive treasure trove of information locked away in his perfect memory. So far, James has not shot anything else besides targets and practice dummies since that day. He did, however, find that his once-great mathematical aptitude had faded, and that nearly 38 years in an experimental (though well-tested and notably safe) cryogenic suspension process took a toll on his body in the form of a constant low-grade pain and an inability to properly run anymore. He was also helped, through extensive Fleet Intelligence-furnished psych-therapy, to realized that the long lucid dream cryogenic suspension had put him in had let him face and overcome his issues from the War. Of course, overcoming those issues left him with a severe callousness, major detachment from almost everyone, almost nothing left to live for but work, and a deep-seated resentment against “contemporary Colonials” once he found out how deeply hedonistic and lazy the majority of Colonial civilians had become…and how idealistic and “naïve” most of the Fleet had become. He learned to channel this anger and resentment at “squandering a peace paid for in my peers’ blood” into cutting sarcasm and a determination to do his fracking best to bring the Fleet up to late Cylon War standards of competence and readiness. Ironically, for being the only survivor (no one knows why the research station blew up) and volunteering to test the system, James was awarded the Hero of Kobol, Gold Star of Kobol, and a promotion to Chief Petty Officer. (The promotion was much, MUCH more cost-effective than actually granting him back pay, even at PO1 rates.)

In the two years since being thawed, James has been actively assigned to the Battlestars ‘Talos’, ‘Atlantia’, and also served onboard several different Alliance-Class Frigates, all five ‘Oracle’ ELINT vessels (with the most time aboard ‘Oracle 76’ specifically) and more time in ELINT Raptors than most Raptor Crews have in their birds. (Flight time on his log indicates hours piloting.) The ELINT Raptor Crews, upon seeing his Enlisted Flight Wings--and doing some research--hung the callsign ‘Morpheus’ on James. Other than bonding with various ELINT Raptor Crews, James pretty much bounced from various ship to various ship every couple of weeks, constantly working to master the new programming languages and technology, only stopping once a month at the War College. That changed two months ago when, amidst his usual 5-day long rotation every month at the War College (imparting ELINT and ELSEC wisdom to promising young EWOs in a frantic mix of as little classroom briefing and as much practical instruction as possible), James was called up to Picon Fleet HQ. Once he arrived, he was instructed to quickly review some strange ELINT data picked up on the Armistice Line, then prepare a thorough briefing for the Admiralty. James reviewed the data, taking nine hours because of the need to cross-check with highly-classified data from the Cylon War, then had a briefing prepared in another hour. The Admiralty--already feeling irritated--was in a closed, secure briefing with James, the Minister of Defense, and the Director of Fleet Intelligence for four more hours. No one outside of those seventeen people know what was said in that room; all records were either sealed under an Admiralty-Eyes Only caveat or completely wiped from the two stand-alone systems he had used to prepare and present his briefing by James. What is known is an ashen-looking Defense Minister left to brief the President, the Director of Fleet Intelligence was killed in a suspicious ‘home invasion’ 35 hours later, and CPO M. James “Morpheus” Mundy was court-martialed--quietly--by the Admiralty.

The entire proceeding was sealed, but the verdict and the punishment--but not the charges--had to be transmitted to the JAG in order to be legal. From that, it is known that Admirals Myron Theodis, Dorian Yorick, Jonathan Zorba, Stefan Odell, Fedor Lucas, Sebastian Angelo, and Calista Dennis all voted to Convict; Admirals Augustine Nagala, Selene Foster, Vasily Constantine, Orrin Saunders, Electra Korban, and General Cassius Krag all voted to Acquit; and Fleet Admiral Matthias Stark Abstained. Whatever the charge(s) were, they were carried, and CPO Mundy was found guilty. His punishment was to be busted to Petty Officer First Class--with seniority to date from his original promotion to PO1--and then to be assigned to the 24th Viper Training Squadron. Notably, PO1 Mundy’s orders read as “Assigned as Electronic Intelligence and Electronic Security Senior Instructor, 24th Viper Training Squadron/Echidna Base” as well as “Assigned, Concurrently, as Electronics Warfare Master Trainer, 24th Viper Training Squadron/Echidna Base”, and, finally, as “Intelligence Flight Training Officer and Liaison, 24th Viper Training Squadron/Echidna Base”; the duration of assignment was one to three years. They then had him packed up and shipped off to Echidna Base as soon as he finished his--last--teaching rotation at the War College; James, ironically, hopped a ride with one of the Raptor Crews he had been training that rotation. (He did take a TS-rated courier case with him to the base.) It is rumored that the entire “court martial” was to appease political interests, but no one is sure who. The Quorum? The Admiralty? The President? And no one talks (and they try hard not to think about) the death (and quick replacement) of the Fleet Intelligence Director…if they even know about it.

Upon arrival at Echidna Base, James reported directly to Colonel Biers. While James had to wait for two hours--due to some exercise coordination foul-up that the 24th CO was clearing up--to see Colonel Biers, James was just as professional and calm after waiting for two hours as when he had arrived. Upon Colonel Biers verifying his orders, he then carried out the classified second part of his orders and “read in” Colonel Biers into ‘Broken Valor’, then gave him the condensed version of his past. To his credit, Colonel Biers was unruffled…then again, he may well have worked alongside PO1 Mundy; even James’ memory is not that good. Mundy then spent the first three weeks of his “exile” working onboard the ‘Fenris’, teaching them a few of the nastier tricks he knows about ELINT, Cyberwarfare, and a little EW in order to make them a harder OpFor target. He was then rotated over to the ‘Eleos’, where he worked with the Raptor crews and the ship’s barely-staffed EW department to teach them a few different nasty tricks to simulate Cylons being sneaky. And, finally, two weeks ago, Colonel Biers transferred Mundy over to the ‘Meleager’; the Colonel noted that she was “a good, taunt ship” but that “the Fleet is neglecting the her more than they should”…and that Mundy should be able to help in multiple departments, since he is, after all, the Squadron’s “Electronics Whiz”, as well as a Pistol Expert, plus Basic Pilot and Mechanics Ratings, he could assist them so much…And he stays available for “urgent classified courier duty”…

To his mild surprise, Mundy has actually found the ‘Old Mel’ to be quite to his liking; Major Deering reminds him of the better COs he served under in the War, the Pilots and (especially) EWOs listen to him when he points out things or teaches tricks, the Marines are relatively friendly…and the ship herself reminds him of the time period that so defines his life. Of course it helps that no Senior NCO, Division Officer, Department Head, or anyone short of the CO wanted to be in his chain of command as soon as they looked up his file, saw the extensive redactions AND the record of disciplinary action. Major Deering, having been briefed by Mundy on the orders of Biers, seems to be content to allow James drift between two (or three, with Intel in the mix) departments, teaching and helping wherever he can, as long as he doesn’t screw up. He has no doubt, however, that such freedom will definitely disappear with any misstep, and could disappear with changing circumstances. Thanks to only needing three hours of sleep a night (apparently a side-effect of dreaming for nearly 38 years), James has been doing everything possible to support Major Deering and her ship, as well as impart what he can to both Air Wing and Ship’s Complement alike.