The Colonel finished reviewing the written complaint forms, each in their own time, before raising his head to look dispassionately at the three who stood before his desk. He did not lean back in his chair nor steeple his fingers in contemplation. Instead, he fixed an inquisitive eye on each one in turn as he sat ramrod straight with his hand upon the desk, almost as though examining three very different and unique insects that still managed to have one thing in common. Which, actually, was very much what they were! In fact, to say that the people who compromised his subordinates were a diverse bunch would have not only been an understatement but a gross misconception! He had made some great strides in getting them to work together, although there was simply far too many differences for them to ever become a truly cohesive team. You couldn't take a computer networking engineer and turn him into a medical engineer so easily, after all!

Which brought the eye of the command unto Mr. Beale first. A nervous little man with little backbone or spine, the sort who did far better with machines than with people. He wasn't so much in charge of the physical components of the Neuro-Interface program as he was the first among equals. Beale was also the only awake at the moment. The rest were still in cryo-stasis. "These are some very serious charges, Mr. Beale," the Colonel finally commented. "You entail that she willfully put the whole of the ship at risk by compromising its network for the sake of one man. That her orders to disengage the NI-tech from the system and... ah... 'reboot him'... endangered the entirety of the mission. You go on further to claim that the Major did not even allow you to explain that the tech's extraction was still undergoing careful study so as to best decide how to minimize the risks to both the ship and the tech himself, but instead immediately ordered you to obey under threat of military arrest and incarceration."

The sweating civilian engineer shifted nervously but still gave a sharp nod of affirmation. "I mean, she talked about how precious the techs are and that they're human and all of that. No problem there as far as I'm concerned. But she didn't get that without the chambers the techs are useless and visa versa! I wanted to explain to her how fragile the whole thing is, but she wasn't having none of it! It's a patchwork system, sir, it really is! The least little thing could-"

"Yes, Mr. Beale, so you have said before. I am well aware of how... [i]kludged[/i], I think is your word for it, the system is." Flicking his eye to Lt. Harris, he raised an eyebrow. "And to add to Mr. Beale's accusations, Lt. Harris, your own submissions cite that the Major altered several established procedures without any input from the other departments, that she blithely ignored regulations and standing orders regarding the NI-techs." Colonel Grissom did his best to not ask the woman if she had used a dictionary to look up the word 'blithely.' She seemed the sort to open a dictionary only when she wanted to complain about someone as thoroughly as possible. "That she accused you of human rights violations and torture?"

"Sir, that is correct, sir."

"At ease, Lt. Harris, at ease," he waved at her. 

Looking over to the third of the trio, he lifted his chin as a sing of measured respect. Dr. Lattimore and he were of an age, for one thing, and while there was much that the two of them did not agree upon they felt united in their ultimate goal: survival of the human at whatever personal cost to themselves. Lattimore, now well into his sixties, stood calmly frowning as he listened to the other two. The Colonel could see the specialist was less than thrilled with the reports being tendered and would want action taken. Grissom agreed. "Dr. Lattimore, seeing as how the accused has military standing, I would like to handle this. I understand and acknowledge the co-authority of the Combined Intelligence Services in the Neuro-Tech Program, of course, and I shall see that things are brought back into line. I believe this to simply be a matter of ignorance on the Major's part, a misguided drive to right some wrongs, and not a willful threat. Give me a week to see how she continues, and then I will address matters with her myself."

The specialist gave a stiff nod of consent. The remains of several different intelligence agencies had formed into the CIS, an organization that became almost entirely devoted to the NI-tech program out of a lack of external or internal threats to guard against. It had been the backbone of the program's recruitment efforts. Those efforts had not been to Grissom's liking. Not in the least. But it had all taken place before he had come on board. When he had taken command of the program, he found himself very much trying to make an omelet big enough for thousands of survivors with only but a handful of eggs, eggs which the CIS had shattered to pieces. Grissom was left in charge of sieving out bits of shell with only his fingers. Still, the CIS, while small in number, had their uses. For one thing, without Lattimore and his coterie of surgeons and behavioral specialists, they wouldn't be able to create new NI-techs! Speaking of which...

"While you are here, Doctor, how goes the search for replacements?"

Lattimore's sour expression deepened. "We are still having some troubles," liver spotted man extemporized, "Those pre-qualified are showing a great deal of reluctance, although we are expanding our searches. Still, it is not looking promising. We may have to resort to-"

"No," Grissom said politely firmly. "Not unless there is no other course of action."

"Forgive me," the doctor contradicted primly, "but we may be at that point, Colonel. The surgeries take time, as does recovery and training. As Mr. Beale has pointed out, the system is fragile. No less so are the NI-techs themselves, both physically and mentally, and frankly it is surprising that we have done as well as we have, especially given the failures of the first iteration! We need at least seven more NI-techs, Colonel. At least. Eight, if Sung-Pak does not make a full recovery. As I understand it, the Major currently has whisked him away to Dr. Brock for evaluation." Lattimore cocked his neck to one side. "Again, in the face of established-"

Colonel Grisson waved his hand in a chopping motion. "Yes. Thank you. I am aware. You are all dismissed."

Lt. Harris saluted, a salute that he returned before she left. The two men followed her out, leaving Grissom to himself. He rubbed at his brow for a moment before reaching over to snag a form authorizing the revival of certain CIS agents. Certain paperwork remained exactly that, paper. Grissom did not wish to risk having any of it electronically filed, no matter how Mr. Beale and the others insisted it could be secured from prying eyes. All of it was saved, of course. There was a certain room where every order he ever signed with his fountain pen was carefully filed; Grissom regarded them as the chains of damnation he would wear after his soul was condemned to hell. As he worked, the Colonel grumbled his favorite curse.

"Fucking lowest bidder..."