When the attack came not all chose to flee. Some decided to make a stand. On the battlestar Perseus there are 1623 survivors fighting to regain what they have lost…
All around him was fire. The smoke burned his eyes and throat. Crowds of screaming people fled from blood-soaked centurions. Raiders flew overhead firing missiles into homes, fields and groups of refugees. No matter where he looked there was carnage. He was deafened by screams and explosions. People died by the dozen. He pulled out his gun and fired at the cylons but it had no effect. The centurions ignored him as if he wasn't worth their attention. A group of colonial soldiers including some of his pilots ran into the battlefield and began shooting at the cylons. A group of centurions burst from one of the infernos covered in fire and blood and began tearing the colonials apart with metallic talons. He fell to his knees and wept in helpless grief as his comrades were slaughtered. He realized he was now burning and all he could see was fire all around him.
Jack Tiryn woke covered in sweat. Another nightmare. Every night since the attack he had been subjected to horrible nightmares that would not go away. Luckily for the other pilots they'd stopped making him scream after the second night. At least this one hadn't included his family. He looked at his watch. 05:18, still early. I'm not gonna get back to sleep though, so I might as well get up. He sat up in his bunk and put on his pants. The pilots' quarters were overcrowded at the moment because of the survivors they had rescued from the Lernia. Many had to sleep in sleeping bags on the floor. He pulled on an undershirt and headed for the door, carefully avoiding stepping on captain Allia "Blade" Domas, the former CAG of the Lernia. He opened the door quietly and headed for the mess hall. Life had not been pleasant since the attack; the only good things he could say about the aftermath were that the blind jump hadn't landed them inside a planet and that they had not had any contact with the cylons. If it was possible to accurately measure morale Jack was sure they would have set a new record low. Most of the crew was sleep deprived, either because of heavy workload or because of emotional trauma. He didn't pass many people in the corridors. This was the period when the night shift was just starting to end and the day shift had not yet begun. It was when the ship was most still and Jack had come to appreciate it in the nine days since the attack. Nine days, still feels like yesterday. I can still feel the blood on my hands. I can still hear the screams.
The attack had caught him off guard. He'd grown up in the period of peace between the wars and never expected to see a cylon. Now he'd watched them kill over a dozen of his pilots. He couldn't shake the feeling that if he'd been a better CAG there wouldn't have been so many killed.
He opened the door to the mess hall and went to the serving counter. This early the cooks were only beginning to lay out food. He helped himself to some eggs, waffles and a very large, very strong cup of coffee and headed to the only table that had someone sitting at it - Lieutenant Erikson. Like most of the crew she looked a wreck. Her blonde hair was messy and appeared to have not been washed recently and she had circles under her eyes that were about as dark as the ones under Jack's.
"You look as bad as I feel," he said as he sat down at the table.
"Thank you captain," she said sarcastically as she poked at her half-eaten breakfast.
"Having trouble sleeping?" he asked.
"Who isn't?" she sighed, "Every time I close my eyes I can see my home and my family. I just try to work as much as I can, double shifts and the like."
"I know what you mean, I ain't slept through the night since the attack. Damn nightmares." He took a long swig of coffee.
"Last few nights I've been taking apart the centurions that boarded us, trying to see how they work and what weaknesses they might have," she said.
"Any luck?"
"No. They're fracking well designed. I find it strange, their processors are far too small to able to spawn the sort of intelligence you and Taylor reported."
"Well maybe they've found a new way of making processors that's better then ours," he conjectured.
"Well maybe. Lords know there's lots of things in their design I don't understand. The only way to know would be to hook them up to a computer and test their functions but that's too risky; it could take over the computer. They may not be networked but one corrupted computer can still cause a lot of trouble." They sat in silence for a few moments. Jack shoveled waffles into his face.
"How are the pilots holding up?" she asked. He snorted.
"Better then me at least. About as well as can be expected considering all their families are dead, their homes are destroyed, they have no future and they're overcrowded and sleeping on the floor. I am a bit worried about Phoenix though; he's just been quiet lately. He acts like he's already dead. That's not like him." She rubbed her eyes.
"Which one is Phoenix again?" she asked.
"The one from Virgon, Paul Thomas. Blonde hair, kinda young."
"I remember now. You pilots and your nicknames."
"Call signs," he corrected.
"Whatever."
"How are things in CIC?" he inquired.
"All things considered, good. All things not considered, bad. Things are really tense with the commander and the XO, I don't know if you heard but they had quite the argument about the jump."
"I heard it was an impressive screaming match. Hard to picture the commander getting angry, let alone Hathaway even thinking about questioning orders," he said.
"You should see him now, you wouldn't recognize him. He shows up to CIC with messy hair and an unshaven beard and then just stands there all day scowling."
"That's hard to picture." Jack chuckled and added: "Hard assed bastard usually has his shoes shined so clean I can see my face in 'em." She laughed at that.
"It is certainly a change for him. Other then that CIC is what you'd expect, everyone's working to the bone trying to get these repairs done in case the cylons show up."
"Who's the new comm. officer now that Dmetri's dead?"
"Petty officer Reginald Fallows."
"Who?"
"Exactly. I don't know much about him, he just keeps to himself mostly." She stood up.
"Well, I have to get to CIC. See you later."
"Bye." He finished the rest of his meal in silence, helped himself to more coffee and returned to the pilots' quarters.
He opened the door quietly and stepped inside. All the pilots were still asleep since it was still pretty early. The pilots' quarters was a long rectangular room with the door in the middle. Bunks were set into all the walls and there were tables and chairs in the middle that had currently been stacked up to make room on the floor for the survivors from the Lernia to sleep. He walked over and selected a metal chair from the pile. He then tiptoed over to the wall and slammed the chair against the door creating a loud boom.
"Wake up you lazy bastards!" he shouted.
The pilots either leapt or crawled out of their bunks, muttering and yelling things like: "What the hell?" and "What's the matter with you?"
"Get your suits on and get to the hangar deck double time!"
"What for?!" yelled one of the pilots.
"Because I'm CAG and I say so. Move!" They slowly got to work putting on flight suits with much grumbling. They were far to slow for Jack's taste. Gods, what kind of a rabble am I leading? I wish I'd played less cards and done my job better.
"Move!" After a few minutes they got themselves together and left for the hangar deck.
"Run!" he ordered. They started jogging. A few minutes later they arrived on the hangar deck.
"Stand to attention!" he commanded. They formed into three ranks. He looked at his watch.
"It took you nearly twenty minutes to get out of bed and get here, if the cylons were attacking we'd be dead meat by now! We lost fourteen pilots during the attack; does anyone here want to be the fifteenth? I may have let things slide before but now we're at war and we need to be disciplined." He looked up and down the line. Some looked very angry with him, others seemed to understand - Jim, Gunner and Captain Domas most notable among them. Phoenix just stared blankly like he had since the attack. Everyone looked tired.
"Right, now I've analyzed the records from the last battle we were in. We were hitting them on average less then thirty percent of the time. And yes, by "we" I include myself. That is an unacceptable number. We need more target practice, so get yourselves down to the firing range and when we're done there you can get some breakfast." They started walking to the firing range with more groaning and muttering. Jack started walking beside Jim.
"Morning Jack."
"Morning Jim, sorry for the wake up call." Jim yawned.
"That's alright but I wish you'd been a bit more gentle about it. I'm surprised the cylons didn't hear you bang that chair." He grinned. They entered the firing range and selected pistols, they then each chose a target and started shooting. Jack wound up between Gunner and Jim. Gunner hit the bull's-eye with virtually every shot. She was the best shot on the ship in or out of a viper.
"How long have you been awake?" Gunner asked him as they were reloading.
"Less than an hour."
"Could be worse I guess." They started shooting again. Jack looked over at captain Domas, she didn't have a jacket on and he could see the tattoo of a cutlass on her right shoulder that was the origin of her call sign. She had had the dark tanned skin and jet-black hair common among those from Canceron. She was shooting at her target quite aggressively; she seemed to be taking out her anger on it. The next time they were reloading Jack asked his friends about her.
"Either of you spent much time talking to captain Domas?"
Jim shook his head, "She spends most of her time brooding alone. She seems pretty mad about something," said Gunner.
"Probably doesn't like not being CAG anymore," said Jack.
"Yeah, I can't imagine it's easy on any of them from the Lernia, losing their ship to the cylons like that," added Jim. They started another round of firing. After about twenty more minutes Jack called a stop.
"Okay that's enough, head to the mess hall and get some grub everyone." The pilots looked thankful and filed out.
"Campbell reports all the vipers have been repaired and are flight ready," said Colonel Hathaway. This was the part of the day he had come to dread since the attack, discussing repairs with commander Brammel in her quarters. Their relationship had been very strained since the attack and the commander's decision to jump away from Libron. Neither of them wanted to be in the same room with each other but they needed to run the ship. The only thing that made the commander's quarters different from regular quarters was its size. Other then the fact it was larger it was the same corrugated metal walled room they gave to all the senior officers.
"That's good. What news on the decompressed sections?" she asked. They were able to be civil but they never talked about anything other then ship's business and they never stayed together longer than they had to.
"Repair crews say they should be able to reseal the hull and enter the sections sometime this afternoon." The commander's phone rang.
"Excuse me," she said without warmth as she picked it up. The conversation was brief and she hung up within a minute. "Apparently major Taylor did not show up for duty this morning. He's locked himself in his quarters and refused to come out or even respond. You'd better check it out," she said.
"Yes ma'am." He left and thanked the lords of Kobol for getting him out of there. Only after he left did it occur to him how strange this was. Taylor was a good soldier and consummate professional, that's how he had made marine commander on the Perseus. It wasn't like him at all to not show up for duty let alone lock himself in his room like a pouting teenager. Hathaway rubbed his chin that was now covered in spiky stubble. Ever since the attack being the best-groomed officer onboard hadn't seemed so important. He arrived outside Taylor's quarters to find a bunch of marines milling about not sure what to do. One walked up to him.
"We've tried everything to get him out of there sir. He won't even respond. He's locked the door so we can't get in." Hathaway nodded and walked to the door.
"Taylor! This is the XO; get out here now before I knock you down to cadet for this! Taylor respond!" Nothing. He turned to the marines. "Get a crowbar." One of the marines ran off to get one. He returned moments later and Hathaway motioned for him to pry the door open. It took several minutes and a great deal of effort, other marines had to join in. The doors on battlestars were built to withstand the best a centurion could through at it. The door swung open. The marines gasped. Hathaway looked in and saw Taylor. He wore full dress uniform and had groomed himself perfectly. He swung back and forth slightly on the rope he'd hung himself with.
"Lords of Kobol." muttered the XO. One of the marines said a prayer under his breath. They just stood there for a moment in shock then Hathaway collected himself and walked into the dead man's quarters. He found a note on the coffee table and picked it up.
Dear crew of the battlestar Perseus.
I am sad to leave you like this but I cannot go on. When I heard that Caprica had been destroyed my life lost all meaning. I cannot fight on knowing my wife and children are gone. They were my life. I am deeply saddened to abandon you my friends in this dark hour and I can only hope you will forgive me. Do not give me a hero's funeral - I do not deserve it. As I go to rejoin my sons and my wife I can only pray that the lords of Kobol will smile upon you. Give my belongings to whoever takes over my position.
Do not let those soulless machines get away with this.
Major Rod Fredrick Taylor.
Hathaway put down the letter. "Get him down," he ordered in a dead voice. The marines moved to take their former commander to the morgue. The XO picked up what the Taylor's phone and called commander Brammel.
"Yes?" she answered.
"This is Hathaway, I'm in Taylor's quarters. He's dead. Hung himself sometime last night." The line was silent for a minute. Hathaway thought he could here her uttering a prayer. Finally she spoke again.
"Sergeant Philips should replace him."
"I was just about to suggest that commander."
"Very well, you should let the crew know."
"Yes commander." He sighed and hung up. He then dialed in his code for ship wide announcement. "Attention all hands. All hands your attention please. This is executive officer colonel Frank Hathaway. I regret to inform you we have just learned marine commander Rod Taylor died sometime last night. May the lords of Kobol have mercy on his soul. He will be missed. Henceforth the marines aboard Perseus shall be commanded by Sergeant Philips. That is all." He put down the phone. Another one gone. Damn. He left the room and headed down the corridor to nowhere in particular. He hit the wall in frustration and bruised his fingers.
"Frack!" Okay Frank get a hold on yourself. Think, calm down. Steady breaths. Get your mind on something else. What can I do? Ah! Paperwork's been piling up; I can do that. He headed to his quarters to distract himself with paperwork.
He picked up the next paper on his desk. He'd been working for over an hour now and was getting a little sick of signing things. The next form was part of a bundle stapled together all from the same person. Request for additional training and drill time. Filed by commander of the air group Jack Tiryn. That's odd, I've never seen Tiryn do any training he didn't need to, lazy bastard. He looked through the stack, all papers requesting extra time for training and drills for the pilots filed by captain Tiryn. Well that's a new one. I wonder if ensign Shultz is feeling like making a few practical jokes again? I doubt he'd do it in a time of war, especially after the ear full I gave him last time he sent a joke to my desk but it's possible. Better get to the bottom of this. He hit the intercom.
"Captain Tiryn please report to the XO's quarters." He sat back and waited for the CAG. A few minutes later he heard a knock on his door. "Come in." Jack stepped in and stood at attention. Like most of the crew he looked a bit beat up. His stubble was longer than usual, he had dark circles under his eyes and his skin was pale. "Captain, I have here a stack pf papers saying you want to whip your pilots into shape. I was just wondering if someone was playing a trick on me." Hathaway had never been very good at hiding his dislike for captain Tiryn.
"I sent the requests," he said.
"Would you mind if I asked why?" He was genuinely confused.
"We lost a lot of pilots in the attack sir. Some were friends, I thought if we trained them a bit better and got them organized we might be able to prevent losing too many more." My gods, he actually sounds like a soldier!
"Hmm, consider the requests granted captain. Well done." Jack was taken aback; this was the first time in the more than two years they'd known each other that Hathaway had complimented him in any way. Hathaway smiled slightly and said: "Dismissed captain." Jack left. Everyday a new surprise. He got back to work. He was nearly finished when he heard Lieutenant Erikson over the intercom.
"Action stations, action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. I repeat: Action stations, set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill." Hathaway leapt out of his seat and ran for CIC.
He burst through the door to CIC and took his position. "What's going on?" he asked. The commander turned to him.
"A ship jumped in. We've identified it as the Jewel of Tauron, a civilian transport. I just got off the line with its captain. They were under attack by cylon forces and I've decided to remain at condition one for the time being incase of pursuit. We have the alert vipers on standby and the FTL spun up." Hathaway relaxed a little knowing the situation was well in hand. The commander continued. "The captain has requested protection."
"I recommend we evacuate the civilians instead commander, it's easier to protect one ship than two," he said.
"Agreed. Unfortunately the ship is too big to fit in our landing pods."
"Raptors?" he suggested.
"That's what I was thinking," she responded.
"Tell captain Tiryn to launch raptors to evacuate the ship," Hathaway commanded.
DRADIS contacts!" called out Lieutenant Erikson.
"Who are they?" he asked.
"Multiple cylon raiders; moving to attack the Jewel of Tauron."
"Launch the alert vipers! Tell them to guard the raptors, keep the FTL at the ready," he ordered.
The hangar deck was a flurry of activity as the pilots rushed to their ships. The deck was crowded by the ships rescued from the Lernia and the deck hands were having trouble keeping things organized. Chief petty officer Campbell was in his element, screaming and threatening people to get them to move faster. Captain Jack Tiryn ran up the ladder to his viper and slid the windshield into the locked position for flight. He closed the visor on his helmet and readied for battle. Lords protect me, here we go again. In moments he was shot out of the launch tubes into space. He could see about eight to ten raiders moving to attack the Jewel of Tauron. Several of the fighters had already launched and were moving to engage the enemy fighters.
"This is Snake Eyes to all fighters. We are here to protect a group of raptors evacuating the Jewel of Tauron. Nothing else. Don't look for trouble and don't try anything heroic." He moved his viper to sit between the transport and the cylons. Small skirmishes began to break out between the colonial and cylon ships and the wireless began to buzz with the chatter of combat. He saw one of the raiders attempting to fly past the vipers beneath and to the right of him. He turned his viper and started shooting at the cylon ship. It launched a missile at the transport and turned on Jack with startling speed. "All fighters this is Snake Eyes, the enemy has missiles; do not let them get in range to use them on the transport!" The enemy fighter was still speeding towards him. He flew off to his left keeping the enemy ship in his crosshairs in an attempt to out maneuver it but it anticipated his move and turned towards him firing its guns. Jack fought down terror as one of its bullets missed the cockpit by inches. Jack put his thrusters at full throttle and spun up and over the raider so that he was behind it and let loose with his guns. He hit the fighter's engines and it exploded. "They ain't so tough," he muttered.
"This is Phobos! We got company!" Jack looked down at his DRADIS and saw a new contact. He rotated his fighter to look at it.
"Oh frack." A basestar had just jumped in and was spewing hundreds of raiders. A voice came over the wireless.
"This is Perseus to all ships. We are moving to place ourselves between the basestar and the transport. Protect the raptors and don't get in our way."
"You heard the man. Red, green and orange squads form a halo around Perseus and don't let any raiders through. Blue squad mop up the rest of the first wave of raiders then join the halo," Jack ordered. The pilots all moved to form a better protection around the Jewel of Tauron. Jack flew his viper over the Perseus and was greeted by a vision of destruction. The basestar was peppering the Perseus with shells and missiles. The hull looked like a fireworks display and raiders were swarming everywhere. The only good thing was seeing that the battlestar was giving as good as it was getting. A trio of raiders sped towards him spraying bullets. He turned around and flew away from them at full throttle. High caliber rounds were flying all around his ship and he was amazed none hit. He formulated a plan to destroy them. Gods. How crazy am I to be trying this? He spun his viper completely around and flew towards the cylons at full speed. That coupled with their momentum meant that he flew right through the gap between them. He then spun his viper around in an arc and fired, creating a fan of bullets that ripped through two of the three enemy ships. The third was caught unawares by captain Domas who strafed it from above and destroyed it. "Thanks captain." he called over wireless.
"My pleasure," she responded. He could tell she meant that literally. I suppose if the cylons hijacked my ship I would want revenge too.
"This is Brawler here, blue squad has destroyed the last of the first batch and we are moving to join the other squadrons." Two raiders broke through orange squadron's forces but they were destroyed by Jim and his squadron. Jack saw a group of about six raiders attempting to fly through the colonial fighters and over Perseus.
He called to the closest fighters, "Brawler, Javelin, Fire Starter and Rabbit, there is a group of toasters trying to fly over Perseus near the midsection of the ship; intercept them." They acknowledged and he turned his viper to engage the enemy ships. The cylons accelerated as they saw the vipers closing on them but they were cut off. Jack and his comrades opened fire. The raiders broke formation and attacked their assailants. Jack got lucky and hit the first one he encountered dead on. Javelin and Jim surrounded one and destroyed it. Jack fired as one sped towards him. He missed and it launched a volley of its own at him. He dodged, then fired; he hit it three times in the belly and it crashed into the hull of the Perseus. It cracked open like a dropped egg. Two more raiders flew towards Rabbit and unleashed a spray of rounds that ripped through his viper, completely destroying it. The two raiders then turned on Jim and fired. He did an impressive display of evasive maneuvers but was hit by one of their shots and spun out of control.
"This is Brawler! I'm hit! My engine two is down!" No not Jim. Jim's viper collided with the Perseus and bounced off. Its right wing and one its engines were ripped off. After that he managed to get some semblance of control and managed to steer away from the battlestar.
"This is Brawler. I'm still alive but I've only got one engine left and my ship is badly damaged. I'm reading a fuel leak and DRADIS is down."
"Brawler this is Snake Eyes, head for the starboard landing pod and try and get what's left of your viper in. We'll take it from here."
"Aye sir," Jim limped back to the landing pod as best he could. Of the six raiders only two now remained; Fire Starter had destroyed one while Jim was crashing. One flew past the vipers with the intent of attacking one of the raptors but it was quickly dispatched by Javelin. The final one changed course and made a suicide run into one of the Perseus's guns. Captain Domas came over the wireless.
"This is Blade, we're taking heavy losses over here and we need assistance." Jack turned and flew to reinforce orange squadron. En route a raider dove towards him and he narrowly avoided getting hit by a barrage of enemy fire. He rolled his viper sideways, then moved himself above and behind the raider and fired on it. It dodged and spun around to shoot at him again. He moved his viper down out of its field of fire and shot a few bursts at it. He hit its fuel tank and it exploded.
"This is Gremlin, I'm landing with the last of the evacuees now." Thank the gods.
"Snake Eyes to all pilots; land immediately! Snake Eyes to Perseus; get ready to jump as soon as we land." He flew for the starboard landing pod at full throttle. A few shots sped past his cockpit and he saw on DRADIS that there was a raider tailing him. He rolled his viper to the right at break-neck speed and then flew upwards in attempt to lose the raider. It stayed with him.
"Frack." He took a nosedive downwards and then started flying towards the landing pod while snaking his viper from side to side at incredible speed as the raider continued to shoot at him. He reached the opening to the landing pod and flew into it upside down. Jack righted his viper, extended his landing gear and crashed onto the deck leaving a trail of sparks. Bullets thudded into the deck all around him as he skidded down the landing pod. He felt a wave of nausea as reality began to distort. We're jumping. Two brilliant flashes punctuated by a spray of vivid rainbow colours surrounded him.
Jack handed over his money. It was five hours since the battle, and a group of off duty pilots had gathered in their quarters. Jack had just lost a game of dice to Marcus "Javelin" Walden. He wasn't sure why he cared. Money didn't matter without society. Marcus grinned and swept up Jack's coins. Marcus was one of the pilots who hadn't been affected as much by the attack. At least he enjoyed fighting in a viper, unlike Jack. Marcus stroked his goatee and said: "Care for another game?"
"Naw. I'd like to save a little cash for next time."
"Suit yourself. I'm gonna get a snack in the mess hall." He got up and left. Jack looked around at the other pilots in the room. Gunner was polishing her lieutenant's badge, he was sure she now had the shiniest badge on the ship. She was holding up very well and her strength had helped Jack on more than one occasion since the attack, but Jack had known her a long time and he could see the signs of stress in her. She'd lost the cockiness in her stride and was much quieter than usual. She hadn't quite been the same since hearing about the destruction of Caprica City. Captain Domas was in her bunk reading a book. Jack had asked her to join the dice game but she had just grunted and picked up her book. He still wondered how the cylons had managed to hijack her ship, the only thing he could figure was that they had somehow convinced some humans to slip aboard the ship and give their lives to destroy it but that didn't make any sense. Why would someone give their lives for the toasters? Phoenix was writing in his journal, which was pretty much the only thing he did anymore. I wonder what he'll do when he runs out of pages. Bobby, better known as Fire Starter, was doing sketches at one of the tables. He'd always had a passion for art and had taken to making sketches of the battles he'd fought in. Jack thought he was very good and couldn't figure out why he was a soldier instead of an artist. Things still seemed a bit empty without Aaron; Jack had never been as close to Aaron as he was to Jim and Gunner but he still missed his friend.
Jack walked over to his bunk and sat down on it. He picked up the bottle of whiskey he'd bought at Marathon Station; he'd been tempted to have a drink from it ever since the attack but he didn't think he could stop himself from getting really drunk once he started and that didn't seem like a smart thing right now. If the cylons didn't get the better of him and kill him, he was sure Colonel Hathaway would for getting in the cockpit drunk. He wondered how the civilians they had rescued were doing. He'd heard the marines were clearing out part of a cargo hold to accommodate them. I don't know whether to hope we find more survivors or not. The ship can't hold much more than it already is, on the other hand any soul left alive by the cylons is a blessing from the gods for sure. As it stands now we know of less than two thousand humans left, that's even smaller than my hometown. Bobby got up and turned on his record player. He had one oldies record-probably the last record in human hands-and had played it at least once a day since the attack. Gods it's only been nine days and I'm already sick to death of "You're eyes are like the moons" and "All along the watchtower", what's it gonna be like after a few months? Of course by then I'll probably just be happy if the cylons ain't blown me outta the sky. Jack got up to take a walk before the record got to that awful song about the battle of Thesia. He didn't have any particular goal in mind he just started wandering the corridors. He found himself in the aft section and decided to see if the marines needed any help getting the civilians settled in.
Most of the cargo in the hold had been moved about to form cubicles and enclosures for the evacuees but some were still being shuffled about by marines and off-duty deck hands. He headed over to the marine in charge but was stopped halfway by one of the rescued civilians. He was a small man with gray hair wearing simple clothing and carrying a book of scriptures.
"Are you one of the pilots who rescued us?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm the commander of the air group here."
"Well than let me extend my thanks to you for saving us. Another few minutes and we'd have been blown out of the sky by those fracking toasters." Jack was surprised he swore, as he was obviously a priest.
"Just doing my job sir."
"Well if you ever need anything, I don't know if you're religious, but sometimes it helps to talk to a priest - just let me know. The name's Cavil, Brother Cavil." Jack grunted noncommittally and went to volunteer his services to the marines. There was something about that priest's manner he didn't like, though he couldn't put his finger on what it was. He spent the next hour or so lifting heavy crates and moving barrels of various supplies; he found the labor helped get his mind off his other problems and it made him feel better to be helping the evacuees. This reminds me of working on my dad's farm. He stopped as he was hit by memories of the home the cylons had destroyed. He shook his head and got back to hauling barrels of viper engine coolant. He looked around at the other survivors in the hold whenever he got a chance. Most were very quiet and clearly in shock, one who appeared to have been the pilot of the Jewel didn't move the entire time he was there. One puzzled him; he was a young fellow with dark hair who glared at Jack and the marines like they were jailors not rescuers. Eventually each of the survivors had gotten their own quasi-private area and the marines began handing out sleeping bags and other necessities of life. Jack took his leave and decided he'd see if Gunner was up for a game of cards.
Colonel Hathaway walked up to the commander in CIC.
"I have the report here on the evacuees," he said.
"Good work, who have we picked up?"
"Thirty-two in total, mostly Caprican business men that were on their way to Tauron; a doctor, an art student from Sagittaron, the pilot and co-pilot, one Caprican couple, a flight attendant, an engineer, a retiree that was going to visit his grandchildren, a journalist, four biologists that were going to study birds, a historian and a priest."
"A priest?"
"Yes, a Brother Cavil. All of them have already volunteered to help us any way they can, except of course for the Sagittaron." The commander thought for a moment.
"Hmm, get the doctor to help out in sickbay, see if the engineer can help with viper repairs or the FTL or something, let the crew know there's a priest on board should they want religious comfort and get the rest to do odd jobs or manual labor or whatever you can find for them."
"Yes commander." Hathaway picked up a phone and gave the orders; he then turned back to the commander, "Recommend we limit their access to the ship as well; we don't want them getting in the way."
"Very well, post guards at sensitive locations and tell them not to get underfoot, but don't go to far; we don't want them thinking they're prisoners."
"DRADIS contacts!" yelled Lieutenant Erikson.
"Who? How many?" asked Hathaway as the CIC leapt into activity.
"Three cylon basestars; they're launching raiders."
"Sound action stations. Spin up the FTL," ordered the commander.
"Should we launch the alert vipers?" Hathaway asked her.
"No, let's just jump as soon as we can. Gun control, begin firing on the cylon ships." The ship began to shake from the impacts of enemy shots. How did they find us? The lights flickered from a particularly violent hit.
"Radiological alarm! They're firing nukes!" warned Lieutenant Erikson.
"Get that FTL ready! Evasive maneuvers!" commanded Brammel. Hathaway knew that would do little, ordering evasive maneuvers for a battlestar was like training a cow to dance. Lieutenant Erikson began to countdown the time to the nuke's impact.
"Thirty seconds to impact… Twenty seconds." Hathaway tried to maintain his calm, at least outwardly. "FTL ready!"
"Jump!" For once Hathaway felt relief at the disorientation of a faster than light jump. Reality returned to normal and the CIC became calmer.
"Anything on DRADIS Lieutenant Erikson?" asked the commander.
"Scanning now. I have something, it's big!"
"Friend or foe?" Hathaway demanded.
"No transponders or power signatures but it's big. A lot bigger than a basestar or a battlestar."
"No indication of threat?" inquired commander Brammel.
"None that I can see, commander."
"Very well, stand down from condition one."
"Yes sir." The commander turned to Hathaway.
"What do you think it could be?" she asked.
"I don't know. A group of shipwrecks clustered together? An iron rich asteroid? Lieutenant Erikson, what's our position?"
"Section one A three of the Promethian belt," she responded.
"The Promethian belt; that was a front in the last war. There were a lot of stations abandoned on both sides in the Promethian belt by both sides. Could that be what it is?" he wondered. The lieutenant shrugged.
"Could be. It's about the right size for a station from that era." He turned to the commander. "Request permission to take a raptor and investigate."
"Granted. Take a squad of marines and a viper escort with you. I don't want to take any chances after what's happened recently."
"Agreed." He picked up his phone and told captain Tiryn to prep the ships for him and then ordered a group of marines to meet him on the hangar deck. He left CIC and headed for the landing pod.
He arrived on the hangar deck to find the marines waiting for him and a raptor ready and waiting. A small woman with short black hair in pilots' uniform walked up to him and saluted.
"Hello colonel, I'm ensign Jacobs and I'll be your pilot."
"Very well, are you ready to depart?"
"Yes sir." Hathaway walked into the raptor without another word and she and the marines followed. A few minutes later they had left the ship were turning towards the large DRADIS signature. It was difficult to tell what it was in the dark of space but it did seem to have the general shape of a station. It was gigantic and of a roughly rectangular shape that was thicker in the middle, which seemed to indicate it was of the station design - a huge landing pod with the crew quarters, primary weapons, storage areas and all the other things a station needed clustered in the center. He had spent much of his life studying military history and knew that design had been very common in the first cylon war. The two vipers escorting them flew ahead and did a sweep of the object. One spoke over the wireless.
"Phobos to Gremlin, it sure looks like an abandoned station to me."
"Acknowledged Phobos," responded the raptor pilot. The raptor moved in closer and turned a searchlight on the object. It revealed a metal hull. Hathaway stood and moved to look out the front window.
"I wonder how long this thing's been abandoned," he said to no one in particular. As they glided over the surface of the station they came across a nameplate. "Aegis Station," read the colonel. He hit the wireless, "Perseus this is Colonel Hathaway. We found a name, this is Aegis Station."
"Hathaway, this is Perseus actual, do we know anything about Aegis Station?"
"Affirmative actual. I learned about in military history. It was a staging area for numerous attacks during the cylon war, including the hammerhead offensive. Not long before the war ended the cylons captured it, a few days afterward the peace talks began and the station was abandoned when the armistice was signed."
"See if you can find a way inside."
"Acknowledged actual." He turned to the pilot. "Look for a docking hatch." A few minutes later they found one and latched on. The hatch was no longer functioning, but they were able to pry it open. Flashlights were handed out. The marines were the first to step inside, their guns at the ready. Hathaway followed them into a dark corridor filled with stale air. "Let's have a look around; Goldman, Calvin and Liddell come with me. Haverkate and Joris stay here and guard the raptor."
"Expecting trouble sir?" asked one of the marines.
"No, but I wasn't expecting trouble the day of the attack either. Move out." They began to walk down the hall, their boots echoing eerily as they hit the metallic floor. Such history this place has! Such pride and tradition. I never thought I'd see it myself. He reminded himself this isn't a sight seeing expedition and focused on the task at hand. They came to an intersection that had a map. It showed them as being on the fourth level subsection B nineteen. They were just above and to the side of the main cargo storage area. "Let's see if there's anything left in those cargo holds," he said. They began to go through the halls in the general direction of the cargo holds. The directions were a bit confusing but eventually they found their way to one of them. They opened a hatch onto a walkway over the hold. Hathaway stepped out onto the walkway and shone his flashlight over the edge. It illuminated crates and barrels, still intact.
"The cylons must not have had time to properly loot the place," said one of the marines. He nodded.
"This is excellent. The food supplies won't be any good, but all the non-perishables should still be useable," said Hathaway. They spent the next half hour or so walking around the many holds doing a rough inventory of what they had found. Some of the supplies had been taken by the cylon occupiers and but there was still a great deal the Perseus could make use of. Hathaway was the most hopeful he'd been since the attack. We can last for weeks, maybe months on what's here! After getting a good idea of what they'd found they headed to the hangar deck to see if the cylons had left anything there. It took most of an hour to find it; the directions on the maps were crude and all the corridors looked the same. Then they spent another ten minutes trying to pry open the hatch, which was stuck from age. Eventually it swung open and they entered. The hangar deck was huge, much bigger than on the Perseus. The station had operated a huge fleet of vipers, raptors and other small ships. Most had clearly been taken by the cylons, as the deck was almost completely empty. There were, however, a handful of ships still left.
He walked up to a viper and gave a low whistle. "The viper mark two," he muttered as he ran his hand down the nose of the fighter. I've only ever seen them at museums and air shows. I never thought I'd get this close. He pulled himself out of his state of admiration and spoke to the marines. "Move around, take a look at what's here." They spread out and began taking an inventory of the ships still on the deck. He walked around taking in the sites both for his report and for the experience of walking in this historic place. He found one fighter underneath a tarp and wondered what it was for. It was too large for a viper. He pulled the tarp off. Not many people would've recognized what it was but he had studied everything there was to know about the ships used in the cylon war. It looked much like a viper mark two except it was larger, chunkier and jet-black from nose to tail. A raven mark one stealth fighter. This is wonderful! We can use it to plan strikes against the cylons. "Alright I've seen enough! Let's head home boys!" he called out. His voice continued to echo for several minutes in the cavernous hangar. He and the marines found their way back through the maze of corridors and stairways to the raptor and got onboard. As soon as they departed he called the Perseus. "Perseus this Colonel Hathaway please respond."
"Hathaway this is Perseus actual go ahead."
"Good news, the cylons never finished looting the station, it's full of raw materials, repair supplies, spare gear, hull patches, medical equipment, and viper parts. They're for mark two vipers but we can still integrate them into our mark sevens and have it be better than nothing. We won't need to worry about supplies for a while. Better yet I found an old raven stealth ship; we can use it to spy out the cylons and plan raids."
"Excellent work Colonel, we will start sending over raptors to strip the place bear ASAP." For the first time since the attack Hathaway felt good; now that they could discover cylon fleet deployments without worrying about being discovered they actually had a chance to do some real fighting against the occupiers.
Commander Brammel stepped inside the tent Brother Cavil had constructed out of sheets hung between the containers that formed the walls of his make-do dwelling. The interior was lit by a small number of candles and the air was filled with the sweet scent of incense. "Forgive me for coming this late Brother, but I have a very busy schedule and I need your guidance." The priest smiled warmly.
"Don't worry, I owe you and your crew for saving me from the cylons. Please have seat." She sat down on a crate covered with a pillow. She had to admit he had managed to make the space pretty comfortable under the circumstances.
He took a seat across from her and asked: "So what is bothering you?"
She sighed heavily, "Too many things brother, too many things." She was about to elaborate when he interrupted her.
"Let me guess, you're feeling guilty about abandoning Libron and wondering if you're still fit to command when you feel ready to snap under the pressure at any moment." She was startled.
"How did you know about the jump from Libron?"
"Gossip travels fast in a cargo bay."
"Well yes, I'm afraid you hit the nail on the head Brother."
"Let me say right now that you have no reason for guilt. If you hadn't jumped the ship would have been destroyed. If you had stayed you would have been a bad commander and then you would have been justified in questioning your ability to command. Of course then you would be dead and not able to. Secondly, this is not the time to question yourself. In times of war stopping to wonder if you're doing the right thing costs lives. You need to be confident or you'll be caught with your pants down in a moment of indecision. You are fighting the holy fight against soulless machines; in the service of good all actions are sanctioned by the gods." It was amazingly similar to thoughts she'd often had herself.
"Yes I've often felt that I was fighting for the gods."
"That's because you are. If the gods did not feel you were in the right, they would give you a sign. Or more likely they would have let just let the cylons turn you to a cinder."
"You're right of course Brother. I'm also unsure whether to do as my XO suggests and begin attacking the cylons. We have found a station with equipment that would allow us to do some damage, but I'm not convinced we should go picking fights. We could very well be the last of humanity and if that's the case we have a duty to survive and not take risks."
"The gods would not let humanity fall. The attack was just a trial to test our faith. We must rise up to cast out the unholy. The book of Prenium tells us that nothing happens by chance. Just as it was destiny that you fled Libron, it was destiny to find this equipment. Use this gift from the gods to destroy the enemies of the faithful."
"You are wise Brother. Of course it is destiny. Thank you, you've helped me greatly."
"That's why I'm here." She got up and left. The plainspoken priest had made her feel much more confidant. Of course it was destiny to find the stealth ship. I should not have doubted myself. Soon the cylons will feel our wrath! Back in his tent Brother Cavil smiled and marveled at how easy it is to goad humans into doing whatever you tell them to.
No comments:
Post a Comment