Story Title: Earth 2010 - The Colonies of Kobol Reunited
Author's Name: Matt Manni
Word Count: 113,019
Date: 3/30/08
Series: Battlestar Galactica-Reimagined
Rating: T
Category: Sci Fi Action Stories
Pairing or Focus: ????
Warnings: None
Summary: After years on the run from the Cylons, the fleet finally arrives at Earth in the year 2010.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
CHAPTER 9
The wireless squawked in the mess hall. Lensherr was directed to contact Colonel Tigh in CIC. Excusing himself from the table he picked up the wall mounted phone and pushed the appropriate number to reach CIC.
“This is Lensherr.”
“Captain, Admiral Adama is requesting your presence in the pilot's ready room, and would like for you to bring your wife.” stated the XO. Lensherr was expecting this, but it did not make him feel any more relaxed. He was looking forward to meeting the military delegation from Earth, but worried about their reaction to D'Anna.
“Understood, I'm on my way!”
Lensherr and a very pregnant D'Anna entered the ready room. She had lost none of her beauty, and Lensherr thought she looked even more radiant. The Earthmen stood as she entered, and waited for her to take her seat before they returned to theirs.
“Gentlemen this is Captain Matthew Lensherr, call sign Hephaestus. He is strike leader for Silver Spar squadron. This young woman is his wife D'Anna Biers…she is also a Cylon.” said Adama after a pause. The men in the room exchanged glances, they had spent the last six hours in session with the Admiral, and one of the topics covered were the human model Cylons that were instrumental in the successful surprise attack on the Colonies. General McAllister was the first to speak.
“I don't understand Admiral, you say she is a Cylon, but she's the wife of one of your officers and pregnant?”
“That is correct General; over 7 months ago we had encountered a remote Cylon outpost with one function only; to launch a massive assault on the GALACTICA with nuclear-equipped heavy raiders that would ram this ship repeatedly until it was destroyed. There were several such outposts spread throughout possible escape routes, all depending on the GALACTICA to pass within range of one. She had originally infiltrated the Fleet under the alias "D'Anna Biers" and posing as a reporter for the Fleet News Service. Out of the twelve models of humanoid Cylons, two have proven problematic for the Cylon command; D'Anna's model and the Sharon Valeri model that I discussed earlier. Both models have resisted their programming to destroy humans. Like Valeri, D'Anna had rebelled, fallen in love with an officer and became impregnated. The only difference is that D'Anna's model has been ‘boxed,' another term I explained earlier. I wanted you gentlemen to see first hand what we are escaping from, and what you may very well encounter sometime in the future.”
D'Anna got to her feet, this time none of the men moved to get up. Her green eyes blazed like emeralds. “Gentlemen, I can just imagine what you're thinking right now, the Admiral is correct, I am a Cylon! All twelve models of Cylons were programmed to blend in with the human population seamlessly. We bleed when cut, bruise when hit and unless you run extremely complex biological testing you will find that we are almost completely indistinguishable from humans. When we die by natural or unnatural causes, our consciousness is downloaded into a new body. In my case if I die, it is final. I have placed my survival in their hands, and the child I carry is the next evolutionary step between human and Cylon. There are many models, and I'd like to believe that there can't only be two of us that believe that the eradication of humanity is wrong.”
A Civilian advisor to President McGregor was next to speak. “Admiral Adama has explained that the Cylons are actively searching for Earth, what are their intentions if they find us?”
“Make no mistake gentlemen; there is no ‘if' but ‘when.' We have succeeded in leaving a trail for whatever Basestar that may have been following the fleet to follow. The route was well planned, and takes them in a completely opposite direction, thousands of light years in the opposite direction. However, in time they will discover the ruse and restart their search. The Cylon intention was to locate Earth and make it their new home.” Said D'Anna.
“And what of the human population?” persisted the civilian advisor. D'Anna looked down at the floor a moment and slowly replied.
“If they could not be subjugated, they would be exterminated.”
The silence in the room was palpable, and Adama soon spoke up. “Gentlemen, our two peoples have been reunited after 4,000 years. Less than 50,000 members of the twelve tribes of Kobol remain alive to rebuild the human race. If we are to make our home on Earth, than we will be responsible for protecting her. Your technology, while impressive is behind our own, and if we are to protect Earth than she must be brought up to a technology that at least gives her a fighting chance against the Cylons. This isn't a quick fix, and cannot be accomplished in a matter of weeks, months or even years; it will take time and cooperation amongst all of your nations…friendly or otherwise.”
“I've asked Captain Lensherr to this session because it is my intention to start cross-training my pilots and yours. He along with Major Adama would like to start training some of your pilots in flying fighter craft through the airlessness of space. For us, atmospheric flying comes just as natural as flying in space, but that is not the case with your pilots. Captain.” Lensherr walked up to the podium.
“Gentlemen, we've studied your Air and Sea based fighters for quite some time and their skill is excellent, I'm sure there are many pilots aboard GALACTICA…myself included that would love to fly competition with you. However flying in space takes intense training. Under normal conditions, flight school for a Colonial pilot was extensive and took almost a full year. After our escape from the Colonies, we lost countless pilots and had to train new ones at an expedited rate. The United States boasts the best trained atmospheric pilots on the planet so that part should be easy. Learning to fly a viper through space will be the challenge.”
“We will be providing complete schematics for the Mark II and Mark VII Vipers in order to have simulators created. Production facilities will have to be retooled to produce Vipers.” Said Adama.
“Admiral, short range interceptors will not be enough to protect us from a Cylon attack. What are your intentions for building larger warships?” asked Hoffman.
“By that I assume you are referring to building a Battlestar.” Replied Adama.
“That would be correct, sir.”
Adama adjusted his glasses and walked around the front of the podium to sit on the edge of a table that contained refreshments. “Gentlemen, a full sized Battlestar takes years to build, much like your own Super carriers. The very fact that it would involve technology no one on Earth is familiar with compounds the challenge. The fleet has approximately two dozen people that have worked in Battlestar construction, Earth engineers would have to be given an intense crash course in every aspect of propulsion, metallurgy, weaponry, armament…the list goes on. We would need the best scientific and engineering minds on your world to work together to just produce one Battlestar, and the GALACTICA is an obsolete warship technology-wise. She does not possess a networked computer system due to the threat of Cylons being able to disable the system as they did when they attacked the Colonies. They shut down Battlestars and Vipers as easily as throwing a switch. Any new Battlestar or Viper will not be networked! I would prefer to build Mercury class Battlestars, perhaps at a much smaller scale in order to produce more at an accelerated rate.”
“Admiral, I believe I speak on behalf of President McGregor when I assure you that military and civilian production facilities can be directed to halt current production and retool their equipment to put out your Vipers. The Battlestar production is a different story entirely. If you believe that it will take a world effort to produce smaller Battlestars in large numbers to protect us than that will require more than just the President of the United State 's say so. Your existence will have to be revealed, and the major powers of the industrial world will have to come together. That is not an easy task I assure you!” stated the Secretary of Defense.
“Gentlemen, we too were once a split society, we warred against each other only to be forced to band together when the Cylons turned on us. The Earth faces the potential threat of extermination; they have no choice but to work together if they are to survive.” Said Adama solemnly. The session continued for six more hours, and the delegation was allowed to adjourn and eat dinner in the mess hall before retiring to staterooms made vacant for them by senior officers. Plans were finalized to suspend current production programs for military fighter craft. The biggest challenge now lay ahead. Members of the fleet would have to be told of their arrival at Earth. The people of Earth would have to be told of their alleged long-lost brothers and sisters sitting up in spaceships hiding behind their moon.
Adama hosted an informal meeting with his senior staff and air wing commanders in his private quarters later that night. “Gentlemen the hour is late I know, and I appreciate you all joining me after such a long day. The day's session with the Earth delegation bore some decent fruit, however the United States is not Earth. We are going to have to involve all nations, and that won't be easy due to the usual felgercarb.” Lamented the Admiral.
“You mean politics, sir?” laughed Apollo.
“Exactly, this isn't something that can be dismissed lightly. There are potentially major obstacles between the superpowers on Earth. We have to stress, or should I say the President of the Colonies needs to stress the need to put aside differences and come together. Acquiring natural resources to build Vipers in unlimited amounts will not be a problem; the difficulty is in getting their aeronautical engineers brought up to speed on Viper technology, then the actual process of retooling existing construction facilities to start pumping them out.”
“Planes you'll have Admiral, but what about pilots?” asked the CAG.
“I know you've been familiarizing yourself with the US fighter planes and tactics, courtesy of General McAllister and Colonel Hoffman. They both have been very generous in providing us with technical manuals, computerized schematics and other items. These are excellent fighters for their level of technology, and the pilots who fly them must be beyond exceptional. I want to start a cross-training program, familiarize yourselves with their most advanced fighter, the F-22 Raptor. Until the simulators are built the bulk of their Viper training will be in the classroom, and some hands on with the Mark II's.”
“When do we inform the fleet of our arrival at Earth?” asked Lensherr.
“Today, President Roslin has been working on her speech since we've arrived, I'm sure it has been done for some time now. I am just amazed at how long we were able to keep it secret. Eventually we would have to explain the influx of fresh rations, and our stationary position in orbit around a dead moon that I am sure many have seen through their observation ports. We made it gentlemen…we have safeguarded the remains of the twelve colonies for over two years, suffered many hardships. The bravery and professionalism exhibited by yourselves and the men and women under your command is testament to our success. I humble thank you all, and say the honor is mine to have served with such people.” William Adama stood and raised his glass. “To the end of our journey, and a new beginning!”
FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:
Excellent progress has been made in the sessions between the Government of the United States of America; the most powerful, democratic and advanced of Earth's civilization and us. An agreement has been reached between us and the military of the US to rearm the GALACTICA's nuclear arsenal and small arms ammunition. Our larger conventional ordinance and missiles are slightly different from the kind currently in use in the US military, but have been assured that they can be produced quickly after modifications to their production facilities. If the GALACTICA is going to remain in orbit to safeguard against Cylon attack, she had best be fully armed.
Despite the space-related and propulsion technology between Earth and our fleet, I find Earth to be very similar to the Colonies. I feel confident that they can be brought up to a satisfactory level of advancement in due time. Their land, sea, and air based military is exceptional, but no match for a Cylon armada if they came. Their Baseships could remain in orbit raining down nuclear death upon them, though I believe if they did come down to the surface they would be given the fight of their computerized lives.
President Roslin will be addressing the fleet in a few hours, I fully expect the masses to want to go down to the planet, but we will have to wait until the US President makes the announcement at their Assemblage of Nations called the United Nations. The revelation will most likely be met with joy, skepticism, fear and outright panic I am sure. It will be up to the world leaders and the quorum to decide how and when we will begin to colonize Earth. I gladly leave that logistical matter to the politicians.
The senior military officers I have encountered are as professional as any I have encountered in the Colonial armed forces. I believe we have more in common with our brothers and sisters from Earth than differences. Talks of exchange programs between flag officers and eventually lower ranks had been the suggestion of Colonel Hoffman. I find merit in the idea, if we are to make a home on Earth, than the sooner we assimilate the better. Many civilians have been pressed into military service since the destruction of the Colonies, and I am sure they would jump at the opportunity to return to civilian life on Earth. However if we are to maintain a fully staffed Battlestar and future Battlestars than careful retention of key individuals and the recruitment of Earthmen are paramount to our safety and theirs.
President Laura Roslin stood behind the podium arranging her speech, behind her the walls adorned with flags representing the twelve colonies. She would be broadcasting to the entire fleet via wireless and video. Her hands slightly trembled as she arranged her cards with the large letters printed upon them. She had picked out the same outfit she had worn down to Earth, it was her least well-worn outfit and she suppressed a smile at the opportunity that she would now have to get a complete new wardrobe.
“One minute to airtime, Madam President.” Informed a technician.
She removed her reading glasses, and the camera lights only intensified her emerald green eyes. Ten seconds to airtime, she took a sip of water.
“Citizens of the fleet, good evening.” She began. “I have called for air and wireless time this evening to make an announcement that will impact the lives of us all. Our long exodus is at an end, for two years we have been on the run from the Cylons, trying to save the last remnants of a shattered civilization. We have finally found the planet of our long lost brothers and sisters of the thirteenth tribe…we have found Earth!” Across the fleet stunned silence, and finally tumultuous applause filled every hallway, cabin, and populated portion of every ship. Roslin had anticipated this and waited a few moments before continuing. The discovery was made thirteen days ago, and a decision was made to keep that discovery a secret until contact could be made with Earth's government.
Our existence has not been revealed to the populous of Earth yet, but will be shortly. This will not be an easy revelation for them, many do not believe in life forms beyond their own world. We may be welcome in some quarters and feared in others. It will take long and comprehensive planning to implement our colonization of Earth. Where will we live, how will we survive? These are the questions that I have asked myself many times, and I believe our survival will depend upon how well we integrate with our long lost brothers and sisters. While they are not as technologically advanced as we currently are, especially in space flight, they do possess many attributes and beliefs that will guarantee to amaze us, and are quite advanced in their own right.” Roslin paused a moment, a smile spread across her lips. “Citizens of the fleet, we have finally arrived and I have the strongest and heartfelt belief that we have finally found our home! Fresh foods, medicines, and clothing have generously been provided for you from the descendents of the 13th tribe and have been arriving daily aboard GALACTICA where it has been dispersed and will continue to be dispersed until the time comes for us to journey to the new world. Thank you for your support over these incredibly hard two years. You are a credit to the human race, and your determination, courage in the face of overwhelming tyranny from the Cylons and unknowns of space will forever be engraved in Colonial…, and I am sure Earth history. Your Ministers have been briefed on what is to be expected as we await news from Earth's government on our plea for sanctuary.” Thank you and good night.”
CHAPTER 10
Lt. Kara Thrace was waiting in the hallway leading to the portside flight pod just outside the quarters given up to Colonel Hoffman for his brief stay aboard GALACTICA. The door opened up and out he walked in his Colonial-issued flight suit for the return trip to Earth. His Military Dress uniform undoubtedly folded pristine-like in his carry-on bag. She thought he looked very handsome in his dress uniform, and was sorry to see him out of it and returning home. Her marriage to Samuel Anders had been tumultuous, and a mutual separation was agreed upon.
“Good morning Lt. Thrace !” said Hoffman smiling, clearly pleased to see her.
“Please, call me Kara or even Starbuck if you care to, no need to stand on ceremony!”
“Then I'll have to insist you call me Jack, or by my call sign which nobody has used in close to ten years… Hannibal.”
“Well Hannibal, where do we go from here? I am not one to mince words but I have to say I am sorry to see you leave. I was hoping you and I could spend some time talking about Earth, and where I come from.”
“Kara I would like nothing better, and I've been informed by General McAllister that you and I will be working together on getting a program established to start cross training our pilots. No sense in holding off integrating our forces, especially if the Cylons are the threat you make them out to be.”
“Trust me Jack; the Cylons are a very formidable force. I look forward to working with you.” She extended her hand, and Hoffman took it firmly. Their eyes met, and both immediately realized that they held the handshake rather long.
“My ride to Earth leaves in twenty minutes Kara, I look forward to seeing you again.” Said Hoffman as he lifted up his bag and walked down the hallway towards the launch bay.
United Nations building, New York City .
President Connor McGregor sat in the ornate high backed chair directly behind the speaker's podium waiting for his introduction. The historic chamber brimming to near capacity for an announcement of rumored Earth-shattering significance. He almost dreaded this speech on one level, fully expecting to be laughed off the stage with what he was about to announce. However he was the President of the United States of America , and when he requested an emergency session of the entire United Nations contingent on a matter that affected the entire world he knew he would command their full attention. His thoughts interrupted by the sound of applause, he looked up just as the Secretary-General turned to him.
McGregor strode to the podium resplendent in dark blue power suit with light blue silk tie. His note carefully placed on the podium, notes that he knew he probably would not need, but kept handy anyway. McGregor was known for his photographic memory. He was quite different from his predecessor even though a member of the same party. He was a true consensus builder who was a combat veteran of the first gulf war twenty years earlier. He despised ideologues, and made no secret of his dislike for spin-doctors that had become all too common in political circles. He wrote all of his own speeches, and was a student of world history. He had a much-respected reputation across the political spectrum, and filled his cabinet with the most qualified regardless of party affiliation. A move he knew would probably make him a one term President. He preferred diplomacy to force, but was fully capable of exercising either. The applause had finally died down and he looked out to the cavernous chamber at all of the representatives of the world body.
“Members of the United Nations, and viewers across the world I thank you for granting me this opportunity to speak with you on such short notice. I assure you that what I am about to tell you holds profound significance for every human being inhabiting our world. As you know, decades ago a satellite was sent out into space containing a friendship message from Earth to extraterrestrial life. That friendship message was received…and finally answered.”
Hushed whispers and heads swirled about the room as McGregor patiently waited a few moments for the news to sink in. “Citizens of the world…there is intelligent life beyond our world, and it has contacted us. This is not my attempt at a bad joke as some of you are most likely thinking, I am very serious. These are not green-skinned aliens with ray guns and tentacles; these are human beings, indistinguishable from you and me. They claim to be directly related to the human race, they are the remnants of twelve tribes of humans in search of a long lost thirteenth tribe that allegedly migrated to Earth over four millennia ago. I have personally met with representatives from those twelve colonies, they number less than 50,000 housed aboard 70 odd spacecraft that had escaped annihilation of their home worlds two years ago. Obviously, they are of an advanced technology well beyond the combined technology of any country on Earth. I have seen some of their technology first hand, and members of The United States Military have been aboard the lone warship that is protecting those 70 odd civilian ships.
I realize that this revelation is confusing as well as astounding. I fully expect there to be skeptics, and those who will outright disbelieve me. Currently these visitors are in orbit around the far side of our moon as to avoid premature detection from Earth. I have requested that the fleet be moved to an orbit around our own planet for our observatories and privately owned backyard telescopes to see for themselves. These humans from beyond our galaxy have requested sanctuary on Earth. There are men, women and children crammed aboard those spaceships looking for a chance at life, and I for one intend to provide them that chance. They really are not very different from us, they want a place to live, raise their children and have a future. If we are indeed their long lost thirteenth tribe, than we have a duty to welcome our brothers and sisters and to provide them sanctuary.”
Television stations across the globe that were carrying this speech were being monitored by the GALACTICA, and rebroadcast to the entire fleet via the wireless. By this time, the fleet had repositioned itself to be visible to Earth satellites, observatories and private stargazers. The sight was truly magnificent, and would forever be burned into the mind and memories of every human on Earth.
“Many of you are wondering what these people are fleeing from, why they are seeking sanctuary. You all have a right to know what is out there, and if it is a direct threat to our world. There was once a world known as Kobol, on that world was thirteen different tribes, one of those tribes alleged to have taken to the stars and colonized Earth, the twelve remaining tribes colonized twelve separate worlds. Each world, sovereign and with their own government and military. In the past, they had warred between themselves, and eventually united to face a threat that was intent on eradicating the human race. This threat is called the Cylons. These Cylons were the mechanical creation of the twelve colonies with the sole purpose of serving their human masters. Their technology was to make life easier for humanity. Over time this creation evolved, became self-aware and eventually turned on humanity waging a forty year war. After a brief armistice, the Cylons launched a surprise attack on the twelve colonies. Their efforts to eradicate humanity almost succeeded if not for the efforts of a lone surviving military warship named the GALACTICA. The GALACTICA is what you could consider a hybrid of an aircraft carrier and battleship that travels through space. They are known as Battlestars, and they are bigger than any warship ever created here on Earth.
Over the last two years the GALACTICA has been the lone protector for 70 odd spacecraft not meant for prolonged space flight, their occupants forced to endure cramped accommodations in cold, sterile, metallic spacecraft. Substandard medical care, limited food rations and constant pursuit and harassment by their enemies the Cylons are the conditions these fleeing humans have had to endure. Some of you are probably wondering if these refugees have led the Cylons to our solar system, and if we are at risk. I have been assured that all efforts had been made to lead the pursuing Cylons hundreds of thousands of light years in the complete opposite direction of our world. For the time being we are safe, but the Cylons are aware of Earth, and they will seek us out in time.
The presidents of the colonies and her military commanders have impressed upon me the importance of our governments working together. Capitalists, Socialists, Communists, Christians, Jews, Buddhist, and Muslims…all people of the world regardless of race, class or religion or culture must put aside their differences and work together. They have offered to help speed Earth's current technology along, and just the medical and space traveling advancements themselves will change the course of our lives. We must show the colonists how worthy humanity is for them to have traveled so far, and endured such hardships to reach us, not knowing if Earth was a myth or real. This announcement is only the beginning, the logistics of providing a home to 50,000 humans from another world and technology is daunting, but with our cooperation, we can, and must accomplish the task. I realize this is all so much in such a short period to digest, I urge you all to remain calm and open-minded about these visitors. Welcome them to Earth, let them know that they can lay down their burdens and breathe deeply the fresh air of freedom, free from pursuit and oppression. Thank you all, and may God bless the inhabitants of our world, and these new arrivals.”
Two weeks pass and representatives from Earth and Colonial politicians meet in endless sessions to work out a plan for the temporary housing of the Colonials. Two recently closed Air Force and Army bases each sitting upon roughly 18,000 to 20,000 acres and slated to be sold for commercial use were appropriated to house the fleet. They were chosen due to an already built-in infrastructure and their ability for containment. The Colonials were being quarantined at first until teams of medical personnel could examine them, and treat those that had gone for so long without the required help. Truckloads of food and other necessities had been arriving daily to restock the shuttered post exchanges.
Groom Lake , Nevada .
Captain Lensherr, Lieutenant Thrace and Major Adama sat with their counterparts from Earth for the cross-training program. The GALACTICA's CAG listened intently.
“Colonel Hoffman we have approximately 22 NASA pilots, and 18 Air Force Raptor Pilots for the first class of 40 that are to be trained on the Viper Mark II. The NASA pilots were given priority due to their training in space flight and zero gravity.” began Lensherr. “The forty will be split up into groups of ten that will be assigned to Apollo, Starbuck, Nightstalker and I. The 94th Fighter Squadron out of Langley Air Force base has been kind enough to lend us ten F-22's for our use. The next class will be Navy fighters and Marine fighters after that.”
“How many of your pilots do you plan to train on our Raptors?” asked Hoffman.
“Unfortunately the number of Raptors far exceeds our Vipers, and until the production facilities retool and start cranking out Mark II's it looks like the initial bulk of training will be our fighters familiarizing themselves with your fighters.” Said the CAG, speaking up for the first time. “I intend to commit at least 10 pilots at the start, Starbuck do you have the list?”
Kara Thrace flipped through a chart and read off the names. “Eagleone, Prometheus, Aslan, Aphrodite, Sledgehammer, Falcon, Hotdog, Lancelot and Photon.” She glanced at Hoffman when finished. “These are some good pilots, Hannibal…they won't break your planes!” Lensherr's eyebrow rose at hearing Starbuck's familiarity using Hoffman's call sign, it was a name his recent duties would have no use for, so he was surprised that she would use it. The rumor mill was already swirling about them. Good for her, thought Lensherr. Why shouldn't she find happiness? The attraction between the two was obvious, but both professional enough not to let it affect their work.
“I'm afraid your fighter jocks might find themselves bored with the inferior technology.” Said Hoffman in jest.
“I've studied the F-22, and flew against them when we first came to Earth, that's a damned good fighter, Colonel. I would give the F-22 a fair chance against a Viper in atmospheric flight any day.” Replied Lt. Mark Sarnex diplomatically. Mark Sarnex was arguably one of the better viper pilots aboard GALACTICA, and was not one to disperse praise lightly. He studied up on the F-22 Raptor in the short time he had with the schematics provided, he loved its design and could not wait to fly one.
Hoffman and a Lieutenant Colonel with him seemed genuinely surprised to hear that, and were pleased with the praise from their peers from space. This was going to be an incredible era in Earth's history, and privately Hoffman wondered if this would be the end for militaries across the globe. If Earth's technology were to be accelerated, than everyone would benefit, and share the risks. If these Cylons were indeed searching for Earth, they probably would not differentiate between Americans, Russians, Chinese, or Arabs. This was an enormous opportunity for the world to put aside its petty wars and aggressions, now was the time for Earth to become united.
The CAG took a long pull on his mug of steaming coffee, it had been a long time since he had “real coffee” and was enjoying it immensely. “Major Adama I understand that the first phase will consist of classroom time familiarizing the pilots with the basics controls of a Mark II Viper?”
“Yes sir, their aircraft and ours are remarkably similar when it comes to atmospheric flight, with slight difference in avionics that can easily be discussed. These 40 pilots are amongst the best on Earth, I expect no difficulties. The longest aspect of training will be getting them accustomed to space flight, and I have every confidence in Colonel Hoffman's pilots.” Replied Adama.
“Well the pilots are in the classrooms, and all of your information has been put on power point for you to use, Major Adama.” Said Hoffman.
“Power point, eh? I was given a quick lesson on that program, and I have to say it will be more than adequate for what I have to cover. After you Hannibal!” The squadron and assistant squadron leaders made their way into a large conference room outfitted with desks and comfortable chairs. The Earth pilots all sprang to their feet at the position of attention when the instructor officers walked in. Each Colonial officer was greatly impressed at the military decorum exhibited by the United States military, and marveled how many customs they shared.
Plans were in the works for Viper training to be conducted in all five of the current super powers, those with modern Air Forces. This was a massive task, and far from a done deal. Each world leader had acknowledged the existence of the Colonials, even if they had doubts, or outright refused to believe they were once part of the same tribes of Kobol. They were realistic enough to know that the Colonial technology far outstripped their own, and a possible enemy was out there in space searching for them with the intent on subjugating or destroying them. The possibility of peace on Earth was near, if only in order to unite to defend against an enemy more powerful than any found in all of Earth's history combined. The lone Battlestar was not enough to defend Earth, and until smaller scale versions of a Colonial Battlestar could be produced, properly staffed, and field tested producing space capable Earth Vipers would have to do. Thousands of Vipers would have to be constructed, and twice as many pilots would have to be trained to fly them in the rigors of cold, unforgiving space. This would require trained pilots from every modern air force on Earth. Eventually flight academies for civilians with absolutely no flying experience would be opened, but for now getting at least a dozen squadrons of Viper pilots trained expeditiously was the priority, and seasoned jet pilots were given those immediate slots. Many ranking officers through all five branches of the United States Military privately and in some cases publicly speculated if this was the beginning of the end of US Military forces, and the beginning of a combined Earth Defense Force. Time would tell.
Lensherr pulled back slightly on his joystick, he had “called the ball” and was on final approach to the GALACTICA's port landing bay. He brought his battle-scarred Mark II Viper christened Nemesis gently down onto the deck using maneuvering thrusters. Upon hitting the deck, the magnetic locks on the landing gear engage, and the Viper slowly descends on a platform into the hanger deck. Members of the deck gang wheel a set of stairs over to the cockpit, and he removes his helmet and collar.
“Welcome aboard Hephaestus!” yells deck officer Tyrol glancing over a clipboard. “You letting those nuggets fly your baby?”
“Chief, some of those nuggets from Earth will give the Cylons a good run for their money. They are outstanding atmospheric pilots, and once they are trained in a Viper, I would have absolutely no problem taking any of them into Silver Spar. Some of their strike fighters are amazing, and the men and women who pilot them are hard core.”
“We'll soon see, Matt. They had better be as good as you say they are, one aging Battlestar and two squadrons of obsolete Mark II Vipers held together with spit and wire won't be enough to defend an entire planet if the toasters show.” The two men parted ways, and Lensherr made his way towards his quarters. Oddly enough, he had decided to remain in the brig converted to living quarters with the Admiral's permission. Next to Admiral Adama, Matt Lensherr and his Cylon wife had the largest private quarters on the GALACTICA. He was passing through officer's quarters when he passed Lt. Nina Nintius' open door.
“Good evening Matthew.” Said Nina sitting on the edge of her bunk, she had just returned from the gym and had worked up a sweat. Her tank top was soaked, and pert nipples protruded through the fabric. He averted his eyes, which did not go unnoticed, Nintius smiled. “I don't suppose you care to give me a good scrubbing mighty Hephaestus?” flirted the Raptor Pilot known as Betty.
“Not sure the wife would appreciate that, Nina. I would hate to see her remove your pretty head from those muscular shoulders. We both know she's pretty capable of such a feat.” Flirted Lensherr. The two were old friends, and an attraction between the two never went acknowledged. She was an amazing Raptor Pilot, and Lensherr always prodded her to get qualified on a Viper without success. She kicked off her sweatpants and stood in her underwear and tank top while gathering her basket of toiletries that she would take to the showers. Just then, her cabin mate Elyssa D'Alma walked in with Jenna St. Lynn known as Kraken, another Raptor pilot that had many male aboard GALACTICA competing for her attention. Kraken waited in the doorway.
“Why Hephaestus, we can come back at a better time if you two need a moment” said D'Alma slyly. Her flight suit was peeled down to her waist, and her military-issued tank top revealed a serious view of cleavage that engulfed the chain of her identification tags.
“Is it possible for any of you women to ever be in uniform when I come around?” joked Lensherr. Not that he minded, all three of these women were extremely attractive, and even D'Anna had made similar observations on their attraction. Now that thought could go places, thought Lensherr to himself smiling.
“You did have something to say to me did you not, Matthew?” asked Nina.
“I just wanted to check in with you regarding your class. Most of the personnel you will be instructing will be surveillance and Intel people assigned to AWACS flights. You have researched the AWACS, correct?”
“Affirmative. We are going to start ECO training with a live Raptor flight in the 2nd week. Relax Hephaestus…everything is under control, and everyone knows what they have to do.”
“I am relaxed Nina, this is such a huge undertaking for both peoples, and Gods only know how long we'll have before the Cylons show up.”
Poseidon and Kraken were still in the cabin, and Kraken had something on her mind. “Hephaestus what's up with the old man wanting to build Mercury class Battlestars? Something wrong with the GALACTICA class?”
“You know as well as I do that the GALACTICA was ready for decommissioning, she's an old war horse well past her prime. Just trying to build a Battlestar from scratch with people not even familiar with the technology is a challenge; if you are going to make the attempt, then why not go for the top of the line model? Smaller Battlestars will have to be built at the start, and will most likely carry two squadrons of Vipers max. No retractable flight pods, or networked computers, from what I hear the plans for the new Battlestars will concentrate on speed and maneuverability.”
“I still think it kind of a surprise, the Admiral obviously knows what he's doing, but it's a shame to see no more GALACTICA class Battlestars. Hear anything on Mark VII productions?”
“Right now it's been decided to stick with Mark II's, they are easier to construct and operate, especially for people who have never flown a Viper, or flown at all for that matter.” Replied Lensherr. The two women were scheduled for patrol and after retrieving what she came for, Poseidon and Kraken headed for the launch bay, Nintius waited patiently until they were alone.
“Matt look, we've been friends a long time, and I know you…you're getting stressed out. Between the impending baby and training the Earth pilots, you are burning yourself out. Take a breather, go to D'Anna and get some rest.” Her concern was genuine, and she knew her advice to relax would most likely be ignored.
“Thanks Nina, I'm going to see D'Anna now, I've been gone too long as it is. I'm hoping that the Admiral will let me take her down to the surface before the baby arrives, actually take in some of the blue skies and fresh air.”
“I'm so happy for you, Matt. I always had the attraction you have for her pegged for infatuation before finding out she was a Cylon. Who would have guessed that you'd still have feelings for her even after finding out who she really is?”
“She's different, Nina! Maybe the other series 3 models harbor the same feelings for humans as the Leobins and Doral models, but not D'Anna…I wonder what caused her to break from her series. Lords know her entire model has most likely been boxed by now.”
“Have you ever asked her?”
“We've had this discussion many times, she can't explain it either. Nevertheless, she is happy, and at ease as she is accepted little by little by our people. I love her deeply, and want to make a life with her on Earth.”
“You're a fine husband, and will make an excellent father to that child, Lensherr! Hopefully the little toaster won't have your tendency to overwork itself!” With that, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Lensherr on the forehead gently. “Go to your wife, I'm sure she's waiting for you.”
Upon entering the door Lensherr was greeted by a very pregnant Cylon, she hugged him tightly and Matt winced slightly at her incredible strength. Even pregnant she was so much more than human. A long kiss gave way to another embrace, this time not so hard.
“I'm so happy you're back! I have been going out of my mind up here.” D'Anna helped Matt out of his flight suit and handed his a pair of shorts. He sat down on the couch and exhaled loudly. He stretched his back and let out a yawn.
“We're making some good progress with the Earth pilots, D'Anna. In all honesty, they really are not that far behind us technology-wise. Their potential is amazing, and they embrace every advancement with that look that says…'oh that's right, how the Frak did we not see that before?”
“This still leaves them well behind Cylon technology, Matthew. The Cylons have a better FTL technology that allows the Raiders to jump. Even with my help, we still have not found a way to incorporate that technology into the Vipers. Eventually they will track us here, and I fear that Earth still will not be able to muster an adequate defense. The GALACTICA is only one ship, she can't hold off the entire Cylon fleet.” Said D'Anna sadly.
“With luck we won't have to, Earth has an amazing wealth of raw materials and production facilities that can be switched over to start producing Vipers with some amount of difficulties, but nothing insurmountable. Producing a Battlestar, even a smaller scaled version will be the challenge.”
“This baby is coming soon; I'd rather it not be born in the cold sterile environment of a steel spaceship floating in space. I would like to have this baby on Earth; I want this child to have an attachment to this planet and its people.” Said D'Anna intently.
‘This is something I've been thinking about myself, and something I need to talk to the Admiral about. I will do everything in my power to make it happen, D'Anna. This child is the next step in human and Cylon evolution, but Earth will be our home, and I want the child born there.” The two climbed into bed and held each other tightly. Lensherr drifted off into a deep sleep. His tired mind started to dream about the past.
“Action stations, actions stations…incoming Cylon attack force, this is not a drill!” Lieutenant Felix Gaeta said over the intercom. Commander Adama was just stepping into the CIC to relieve his executive officer when the call to action stations sounded.
“XO what do we have?”
“Incoming Cylon raiders on intercept course, we have a count of at least forty, alert Vipers already launched with remaining squadrons being loaded into the tubes. Raiders are 14 minutes out.” Replied Tigh.
“Any sign of Basestars?”
“Negative sir, if there are they remain outside our Dradis range.”
“Prepare fleet for emergency jump, Lieutenant Gaeta spool up the FTL's. XO I do not want any Vipers beyond the recovery line, I want them back here the moment the fleet is safely away in the event the Basestars jump in.” snapped Adama.
“Aye aye, sir.” Retorted Gaeta as he ran her fingers across the keyboard on his console to prepare for a faster-than-light jump.
Four Mark II Vipers streaked towards the incoming raiders led by Lieutenant Matt Lensherr; Hotdog and Eagleone flanked him. Lieutenant Mark Sarnex was bringing up the remaining Silver Spar squadron with Blue squadron not far behind.
“Weapons free gentlemen, we've got to hold the line until reinforcement's arrive.” said Lensherr disengaging the safeties on his own weapons system. Eagleone was close on Lensherr's port wing, and was itching to add to his raider kill count that he privately kept.
Nightstalker and Hotdog were paired together, and each knew beyond doubt that they could count on the other to cover them in battle.
The Raiders opened fire first, and each set of Vipers peeled off in perfect unison returning fire. They started to mow down their opposition, and their Dradis picked up incoming Colonial Vipers entering the engagement zone.
“Lets go get em, weapons free, and lets mop these Frakers up quick, the fleet will be safely away soon.” said Apollo over the comline. His wing cannons had taken out an oncoming Raider that got past Hephaestus' group. Blue squadron had entered the fray with a vengeance, their Mark VII Vipers aggressively engaging enemy fighters. Apollo was not about to let Silver Spar squadron have all the fun. The two opposing squadron leaders exacerbated the friendly rivalry between the two squadrons sometimes.
Nightstalker and Hotdog flew in a near perfect combat formation; they stayed tight on each other's wing and annihilated every Raider that came in their path. Blue squadron had its fair share of excellent pilots, and at the time, Silver Spar squadron seemed to have been assigned all the nuggets.
Lieutenant Brendan Costanza was a seasoned Viper pilot, and usually found in the company of Hephaestus and Nightstalker. The trio had the most kills of Silver Spar squadron, and Matt Lensherr thanked the Gods for his fortune of having such pilots under his command.
Hotdog was an exceptional and aggressive Viper pilot. He blasted a raider in two, the debris field raining down on his canopy. Glancing to the left, he saw a Raider approaching from Lensherr's blind spot. “Hephaestus…you've got a bogey on your six, heads up!” warned Hotdog.
Starbuck reacted instantly; she brought her Viper into a roll and reversal via maneuvering thrusters to better position herself for a shot on the raider threatening to blow Hephaestus and his wingman out of the stars. She fired off a burst striking the raider in the observation port that houses the Cylon's red eye.
Hephaestus banked his Viper to the left and ran into a full barrage of Raider fire. He was attempting to avoid a large piece of Raider debris that surely would have done significant damage to his craft had he struck it. The rounds walked their way across his left wing and struck the wing-mounted cannon. The explosion shook his ship violently. Alarms started sounding throughout the cockpit, and his structural failure alarm chirped loudly. He was in trouble, and was not sure if he would have to eject. There was not a Raptor close by, and he was in the middle of a deadly firefight. Ejection most likely would have hastened his exit from the mortal world.
“Hephaestus…..Hephaestus…..are you okay, what was that explosion? Matt…Matt!”
Matthew Lensherr awoke with a start; he was back in his bed, D'Anna sitting up looking at him. He was soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. Where did that dream come from? That encounter was over a year ago, and he remembers barely making it back to GALACTICA. Chief Tyrol just about had a coronary when he saw the extent of damage to the Viper. He was finding himself dwelling on the past frequently of late.
CHAPTER 11
As the weeks pass, the new Viper pilots become more familiar with the design, avionics, and armaments of the Mark II viper. Each pilot had logged a minimum of 100 hours in the flight simulators and it was time for them to fly an actual Viper. The problem was that Colonial Vipers were meant for single occupants, thus the pilots were going to be soloing for the first time in the alien aircraft. At the suggestion of Starbuck, four dual seat Mark II Vipers were scheduled to be built for training purposes. The flight instructor would sit behind the trainee with the ability to assume control of the aircraft in the event of an emergency or trainee error. In the meantime, the first training academy for Viper pilots would be forced to fly solo. Subsequent academies would utilize the training vipers. Starbuck had been a taskmaster in her training, and she admired the skill and professionalism of the Earth military pilots in the program. What a difference it made to train people who already had intimate knowledge of avionics and flying experience, and in many cases combat experience. While Viper technology was quite advanced and intense, training still lay ahead for space flight, the American military pilots grasped atmospheric flight of the Mark II quite easily. As the time passed, Starbuck and Hoffman worked closer, and longer hours together. The attraction was unmistakable, Hoffman was a widower who lost his wife to ovarian cancer a decade ago, he had no children, and he submerged himself deeply into his job to keep his mind off his loss.
The simulators were powered down for the evening, and pilots released to unwind at the base officer's club. Hoffman threw his tired feet up on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He was tired, but he was like a man reborn with a mission that could not fail. He was going to train himself, and his men to master the Mark II Viper. Starbuck noticed his fatigue and rolled her chair over to his. Without bothering to look if anyone else was even about, she started to massage Jack's aching shoulders. His eyes snapped open, but she applied pressure down on his shoulders, forcing him to remain in the reclined position. “Relax Jack, enjoy it. Gods know I don't do this for anyone else.”
“It feels great Kara, thank you. I really am tired, this old body shouldn't be attempting flying fighter planes, that's a game for the young!” quipped Hoffman.
“Are you serious?” snapped Kara momentarily stopping the massage. “You're hardly old, and you're in better shape than some of GALACTICA's pilots.” She was sitting directly above his head peering down at him. Her eyes locked on his, they were a light colored blue that she thought was one of his best features. Suddenly she just reached down and kissed him on the lips passionately. The feint scent of what seemed like Jasmine filled his nostrils, and her blond hair that was normally tied in a ponytail to fit in her helmet cascaded down, the elastic band clutched in Jack's right hand.
“Oh you like your women's hair down, Colonel?” purred Starbuck as she slowly pulled back from the kiss. Her long fingers resuming kneading his tired shoulder muscles.
“Kara when was the last time you sat down to a real dinner, and fine wine?” asked Hoffman sitting up and now turning towards her.
“The last time I ate in a fancy restaurant was on Aquaria, about 8 months before the attack. I was on leave and an old friend took me out straight from my arrival at the space port.” I think I ate Tellan eggs in a cream sauce. The eggs are a delicacy; they come from a very large waterfowl with a razor sharp beak. You have to be extremely foolhardy, or careful to attempt to steal their eggs. Quite an expensive dish, not something I would normally be able to afford on a brand new junior Lieutenant's pay.”
“Well I can't offer you Tellan eggs, but there is a nice restaurant about 60 miles down route 375, very quiet and rumored to have some of the best steaks in Nevada, though not much in ambiance.” Offered Hoffman. “Of course there is a dress code, and somehow I think sweaty flight suits may draw unwanted attention. Perhaps we can stop by the base PX and pick you up some blue jeans and blouse.
“Some dress code, I think I know enough about Earth fashion to know I won't be dressed for the military ball.” Laughed Kara.
“Well its getting late and we have a full day tomorrow in the simulators. I guarantee you the best steak and pinot noir anywhere in this state.” Replied Hoffman gathering his belongings. The switched off the lights, and closed the door. Walking out into the early evening, they were treated to a glimpse of the sun setting. They walked over to Hoffman's 2009 BMW Z10 convertible. He opened the door for her, and they sped off towards the main part of the base that housed the Post Exchange.
The F/A-18F Super Hornet idled on the tarmac awaiting clearance for take off. The Weapons Systems Officer, known as a WSO happened to be a pilot on loan from the Navy who would act as WSO for the Colonial's training on the aircraft. This navy Captain went by the call sign Blackjack. The pilot was a Colonial Viper pilot named Brandon Costanza, a lieutenant from Silver Spar squadron, call sign Peacemaker. The two would be prey for six Air Force F-22 Raptors tasked with taking them down.
“Are you ready, Lieutenant?” asked Blackjack over the headset.
“Affirmative Captain lets get this crate in the air and kick some ass!” Blackjack laughed at the reply, if he was insulted by the use of the word “crate” to describe his aircraft it did not show. The tower had cleared them, and they would be given 20 minutes for a shake down run before the op would commence.
Peacemaker brought the Super Hornet airborne with ease and climbed for altitude. He did some basic maneuvers, and was feeling quite comfortable on the stick. It took some time for him to get used to a throttle for speed as opposed to a foot pedal that was used in the vipers.
“An incredible piece of machinery Blackjack, I mean that! Earth is not far off in its technology. Of course it's a far cry from my Mark VII Viper, but she handles really well.”
“The F/A-18F is an older fighter Jon, but make no mistake she'll hold her own against the Raptor, for how long I don't know. Now keep an eye peeled, those Raptors will come out of nowhere, let us see how well your pilots handle our Raptors. This is a big thing for Navy and Air Force pilots to be doing joint training sessions. I wonder how long it will be before we're one big combined military.”
“This is an incredible time in history for both our people's captain; we now have a common enemy bent on our extermination. The petty rivalries between Earth's militaries will soon be a thing of the past I think.” Said Costanza.
Six Earth F-22 Raptors streaked through the cloud cover. Colonial pilots piloted three of those fighters, and their wingmen were US Air Force Raptor pilots assigned to monitoring and evaluating their performance. On the Colonial side was Aslan, Photon and Falcon. Their mission was to search and destroy one F/A 18F Super Hornet piloted by Peacemaker.
Photon was the first to spot Super Hornet and altered course to intercept him using the sun to hide his approach. “All wings this is Photon, I have a visual on the bandit and am going in.” He advanced the throttle and surged forward.
Aboard the Super Hornet, both pilots scanned the skies. Blackjack spoke up. “Jon if you're going to pounce on your target what would be your approach?”
“I'd come in with the sun in my six to hide my approach…just like they're probably doing this very moment!” snapped Peacemaker as he pulled back hard on the stick. “You see anything? I bet these Frakers are doing exactly that!” An audible alarm answered his question; they were being painted by the Raptor's radar, but were not locked on. Peacemaker dove for the deck. Photon gave chase.
“One Raptor coming in from two o'clock high, good move going for the deck the way you did, he lost his cover and was easily spotted when he altered his course.” Noted Blackjack.
The faster Raptor was gaining on the Super Hornet, and it was only a matter of time before Photon would have a missile lock, Peacemaker knew the other two sets of Raptors would be coming in from a different tracks. The plane handled smoothly, but it was no Viper to be sure. Brandon Costanza was of the attitude that a good pilot could fly anything and adapt to make the kill. However, he was not tasked to be predator, but to be prey. A position he chafed under, as did his WSO/pilot. He was heading for a mountain range, and intended to make Photon sing for his supper.
“Lieutenant, even though the object of this exercise is to evaluate the Raptor pilots, part of my job is to see how you handle under pressure.” He produced a small item from his flight suit, a small device that he plugged into a jack on his console. “I hope you don't mind some music. The band and this song is my favorite, though this is highly unauthorized, I feel it appropriate. Enjoy!” A small set of speakers were mounted on both headrests, and the cockpit soon filled with a song performed by a band called AC/DC. The song was “Shoot to Thrill.” A smile crept across Costanza's face; he knew he liked this captain. The song was kick ass, and he felt exhilarated. Photon was surely going to need every ounce of skill he possessed to down his fighter he thought.
The Super Hornet descended dangerously close to the mountain range, Photon and his wingman/instructor stayed on his six and gained slowly. Lieutenant Steve Parsec worked feverishly for a lock on Peacemaker's aircraft. He simultaneously cursed and praised his ability to remain out of range of a lock. “Frak this guy is good, I can't draw a bead.”
At the same time Falcon and his wingman/instructor was flying high over the canyon that the Super Hornet was streaking through with abandon. Costanza could not fly at full speed as he navigated the twists and turns, which would leave Lt. Tony Bastain in a good position to kick in the after burners of his Raptor, and prepare to meet him at the other end.
Brandon Costanza was in heaven, he was flying at high speed through a rocky obstacle course that could very well kill him if he made the slightest miscalculation. He exercised serious restraint, and kept his speed slower than he would have preferred. He was flying alien technology, even if it was inferior, it was something that he had not mastered and was professional enough not to take it for granted. That and the fact that he was flying with another officer, a man he had come to like and respect in the short time since the cross training program started. He would not put that young captain's life at risk.
“You're doing excellent, Lieutenant. I take it you like AC/DC?”
“A hard sounding song that gets the blood flowing young captain, I'd like to see them sing in person some day.” Yelled Costanza.
“Well they're getting a little long in the tooth, but still perform occasionally at special events; I think we can make something happen.”
“Long in the tooth?” he asked puzzled.
“Getting Old!” replied Blackjack. That elicited a guffaw from the Colonial. It would take some time to get used to Earth slang. The exercise continued and Peacemaker shot out of the Canyon to find Falcon waiting for him. The waiting Raptor rolled down tightly and painted their aircraft with radar. Peacemaker jerked the yoke hard to the left and nearly ran headlong into Aslan who he swore he could have seen his eyes go wide as saucers in the flyby. Aslan's Raptor shook violently at the proximity of the Super Hornet's jet wash over his wing.
Falcon got a temporary lock on Peacemaker, but was unable to fire before he broke away and nearly collided with Aslan. A great tactic thought Tony Bastain, ruthless bastard probably scared the life out of the younger pilot, thought Falcon laughing. Photon was not done yet, and he pushed his fighter to the maximum speed, he quickly gained on Peacemaker who was now out in the open.
“Time to take him down!” said Photon to himself. Costanza was flying erratically trying to shake off the faster fighter craft. What Steve Parsec lacked in flying experience when compared to Peacemaker he gained in aircraft superiority. Peacemaker was now within range of missiles, a loud warble sounded in the cockpit indicating a missile lock on the Super Hornet. Photon squeezed his trigger, and two simulated air-to-air missiles were fired. The exercise was over. The Super Hornet was splashed.
Aboard the GALACTICA Admiral Adama prepared to turn in for the night. He had poured another glass of the cognac that was presented to him as a gift from General McAllister when he was first aboard. A knock at his door disturbed his peace and quiet. “Enter!” he snapped.
Matthew Lensherr walked through the door and stood at parade rest, Adama was pulling a shirt back on. “I'm sorry to disturb you Admiral; you look like you were ready to turn in.”
“Stand at ease Captain' you're right I was going to hit the rack, but I've got time for my strike leaders. Care for a glass of Earth cognac?” said Adama gesturing to the desk where the bottle and glasses sat. Lensherr accepted and was directed to sit down in one of the stuffed chairs, one of the few luxuries that Adama had allowed himself when he assumed command of the GALACTICA so many years ago. “What's on your mind captain?”
Lensherr downed the remainder of his glass and looked directly at Adama. “Admiral I would like to have my baby born on Earth!” Direct and to the point, a trait that Lensherr was known for.
“A reasonable request, too many children have been born on sterile space ships wandering the cosmos since we escaped the Colonies and New Caprica. For once, I would like to see the future of our race brought into a world free from artificial gravity, air scrubbers, and cold steel deck plates. Permission granted!” Adama retrieved the bottle from the desk and walked over to Lensherr's seat; he refilled the glass and sat down.
“Matt, this is your child and even though it's half Cylon, it is half human and deserves a chance at life. “Your are granted permission to take D'Anna down to the surface, but you are going to have to be under Doc Cottle's care, and I'm quite certain that Earth doctors are going to want to be in on the first delivery of an alien child on their world. This child represents our future.”
“Thank you Admiral, this means a lot to D'Anna and I. ”
“We never would have made it to Earth if not for your wife captain. We may never have even made it past that Cylon outpost if not for her. I can't speak for the rest of the fleet, nor can I predict what the people of Earth will feel or say about her presence amongst us, but I will support and defend her right to live with us, and raise this child.” The two men stood, and shook hands. “I hear we're making good progress on the Viper training.” Said Adama more statement than question.
“Yes sir, the first forty pilots are exceptional, they've taken to the Mk II incredibly fast, and we're about to enter the space flight phase of their training.”
“And our pilots on their Raptors?”
“As expected, not much difficulty, the F-22 is an incredible fighter for its level of technology. If the Cylons were to go head to head with them within the atmosphere, I think they could hold their own if the fought in packs. One on one they wouldn't be a match for a Raider, but they could use special tactics to make up for the lack of speed and maneuverability.”
Adama reached for a file on his desk. “I've been informed that Viper production has started in several locations. We have our own representatives augmenting the Earth aeronautical engineers who have been given full schematics for the Mk II. I've been assured by our own people that the quality and attention to detail has been at maximum by the builders. I expect twenty Vipers off the production line within a month. Not very impressive by our standards, but a major accomplishment for people who've never even seen the technology before.”
“What about fuel and ammunition, sir?”
“Ammunition wasn't even an issue; very minor modifications had to be made in the tooling of the projectiles. Many of the elements that make up our tylium are present on Earth, what is missing has been synthesized. The shakedown runs will see if the synthesized components are adequate.”
“What about Battlestar construction?” This was the biggest hurdle, a GALACTICA-class Battlestar was bigger than four Nimitz-class Earth Nuclear powered super carriers. Adama had authorized the production of Mercury Class Battlestars, which were even bigger and more complex in design and operation. One would not be built in a matter of months no matter how many people worked around the clock.
“Not an insurmountable exercise, but not an easy one either. A full sized Mercury Class Battlestar took years to build back in Colonial dry-docks. That was with experienced ship builders intimately familiar with every aspect of a Battlestar. We do not have that luxury, hence my reason for a smaller version of the Mercury. They will have a maximum of 30 Vipers and 6 Raptors. Nuclear warheads will not be a problem, the United States military has an over abundance of them, and they will be so equipped, as well as point defense guns.”
“I appreciate you sharing this with me Admiral, I'll leave you and those far smarter than I the task on how to get these Battlestars built. Good night sir and thank you.”
Good night, Captain!”
Lee Adama sat in the training office, mug of steaming fresh coffee sitting in his hands, a half empty box of Krispy Kremes sat before him, the remnants of one cream filled powdered donut lingering at the corner of his mouth. Flipping through some evaluation forms, he looked very pleased. Lt. Nina Nintius entered the room.
“Good morning Major, up fairly early are you not?” Queried Nintius as she stuck a finger in her mouth removed it and used it to wipe the powder off the CAG's mouth. Only she could get away with something like that, Lee liked his top Raptor pilot very much, and was often his sounding board for ideas. He felt that she would make a fine CAG someday, providing she would qualify on a Viper. That subject was played out endlessly with always the same outcome. She was in a duty uniform; one that Lee felt complimented her rock-hard physique splendidly.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Betty?” He held out the box of donuts, which Nintius declined. After pouring herself a large mug she sat down opposite him.
“I've been peeking at the progress reports, you must be pleased. Lensherr and the other squadron leaders are doing a good job with the Earth pilots. I see that half of them have already signed off on atmospheric flight with the other half right behind them. It'll be fun to see these guys escape Earth orbit in the Viper and see how they respond to my gentle charms.”
“Lt. there is nothing charming about your training sessions!” laughed Apollo as he took another gulp of coffee. “Damn this coffee is excellent; it's been so long since any of us had ‘real coffee' as opposed to that synthesized garbage aboard GALACTICA.”
The door opened and Mark Sarnex sauntered in, followed by a very tired looking Kara Thrace. The only flight instructor missing was Lensherr. Sarnex sorted through the box of donuts, and grabbed a double chocolate, much to the annoyance of the CAG who had been eyeing that particular one himself.
“A moment on the lips….forever on the hips Nightstalker, I believe the Earth saying goes.” Purred Nintius. Sarnex sat down next to her and took a huge bite.
“Well you can always help me burn off the pounds, Betty.” Flirted Silver Spar's assistant squadron leader.
“I am going to take you up on that offer someday Nightstalker; you may be surprised at how much I take off you.” Smiled Nintius. The chemistry between the two pilots had not gone unnoticed amongst those that knew them best. The mild flirtations were constant, both were single, yet neither had acted on those flirtations.
“You look like felgercarb Kara, did you sleep at all?” asked the CAG.
“It looks like she had a long night with the handsome Colonel Hoffman!” said Nintius pouring herself another mug of coffee.
“I had a splendid dinner with the good Colonel. A fine steak dinner and some nice wine to wash it down.We talked for hours, we did not even notice that the owners had lowered the lights and sent their staff home. They probably would have let us lock up if we stayed any longer.”
“Just talked? Come on Kara, give us some details.” Said Sarnex, scarfing down another donut. Apollo moved the box closer to him. Kara Thrace just smiled and tied her hair into a regulation ponytail.
“You'll have to satisfy your curiosity with one of the porn magazines that are littered throughout the locker room, Mark. I don't kiss and tell.”
“Alright folks, lets get on track…what's on the schedule for today?” asked Apollo. Sarnex made a grab for the last donut, but the CAG reacted with lightning speed, cracking a clipboard on the top of his outstretched greedy hand. “Damn it Nightstalker, have a Gods-damned vegetable of something.” Apollo took the last donut himself and stuffed it into his mouth.
“Almost all of our pilots have been signed off on the F-22 Raptor. Gods know why we need to be learning to fly those, but we're just about finished.” Replied Sarnex nursing a painful hand.
“Partially political, partially practical, we have more pilots than we have Vipers for, you know that. In the meantime, the Admiral wants to establish some camaraderie between the Earth pilots and us. We are going to be taking in larger numbers of pilots from different countries in the next academy; it is my understanding that we will be creating some kind of unified Earth Defense Command. I have no idea what the particulars are, nor do I know how they are going to accomplish it seeing as how up to a number of months ago many of these nations were adversaries.”
“Any idea if they are going to start rotating pilots off of GALACTICA? Not that we want to be replacing seasoned Viper pilots with nuggets, but what is the long term goal once the new pilots earn their Viper wings?”.
“It is my recommendations that as the new pilots are cleared on all aspects of flying the Mk II that they be rotated to GALACTICA. Some of our pilots need to get off that tin can and see some blue sky for more than a few days of leave. The details are being hashed out between the old man and the US military command.”
The phone rang and Apollo answered it. He thanked the caller and replaced the receiver. “Hephaestus has just landed in a Raptor with wife in tow. He'll be joining us after lunch.”
All right kids, my class on Raptor-Viper vectoring starts in five minutes. Try to place nice while I'm gone.” Said Nintius exiting the room.
Matt Lensherr and his very pregnant Cylon wife stepped off the Raptor and into a home provided to each flight instructor. Their first stop was to the chow hall for breakfast, then to the base hospital for some prenatal consultation with the base doctors, and the GALACTICA's Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Cottle. A special room had been set up in the medical wing of the base. Groom Lake was not a typical Air Force base, and not many babies were delivered there. However, this would be a first for Earth doctors, and a third delivery of human/Cylon child for Cottle. Another aspect of Earth history would be conducted in that specially prepared room.
Almost all of the food aboard GALACTICA and the remaining ships in orbit was coming directly from Earth now, but Lensherr decided to have this morning's breakfast planet-side with D'Anna. The sat at a table in the corner, and he walked to the buffet and fixed two large plates of French toast, scrambled eggs and crisp bacon, toast with assorted fruits and juices. D'Anna had never acquired a taste for coffee, and opted for tea. They enjoyed every bite of their meal, and sat talking for almost an hour.
“It is so nice to get out of that Battlestar, Matthew. The Admiral has come a long way regarding me, hasn't he?”
“He has taken some flak over the months. Too many people wanted you air locked, and he stood his ground. He believes you, D'Anna. He may never have said it, but his actions have spoken loudly.”
“I doubt I'll ever truly be accepted on this world, or in the fleet, but none of them matter; only what you feel is what concerns me. I'm just happy to have the opportunity to breathe in the fresh air, and to bring our child into a world not enclosed by cold steel and stale atmosphere.”
After breakfast, the two drove over to the base hospital. Lensherr looked sharp in his duty uniform, the difference between the Colonial military and Earth's was that the officers of the Colonial service did not wear headgear, while their earth counterparts were required to wear their “covers” at all times when not in a building. Security Police snapped to attention and saluted to the Colonial Captain as he walked past them. Rank insignia was distributed to both militaries in order for all personnel to be familiar with their counterparts and allow for the proper respect and military decorum to be followed. Lensherr returned a crisp salute, and D'Anna flashed both guards a warm smile, and said good morning.
They were directed to the appropriate wing, and were soon greeted by Major Cottle and about two dozen Earth doctors specializing in obstetrics, gynecological health, and a variety of other fields that were there to evaluate their first pregnant Cylon.
Aboard the GALACTICA, Adama had been informed that Colonial 1 had just arrived in the port-landing bay. He ordered a detail to pipe President Laura Roslin aboard and dispatched his executive officer to greet her. Colonial One would soon be landing on Earth, and the President would be setting up a temporary office in an area that was halfway between the two Military bases being used to house the remnants of the twelve colonies. This would be her last official visit to GALACTICA. Members of the Council would also be joining her on her Earth, and would be at the same temporary location in order for their respective constituents to meet with them. This was another difficult issue for the Colonials. There could not be separate governments if they were to assimilate with the thirteenth tribe of Earth. Their arrival had caused non-violent havoc amongst the people of Earth, where would they live, and who would represent their concerns or interests? There was so much to do, so much to learn about each other. The inhabitants of Earth were at a crossroad. Peace and unification amongst all of humanity was within reach. The difficulty was in how to grasp it, and retain it.
Laura Roslin stepped off the gangway and onto the deck of GALACTICA. A military detail awaited her, and a loud alternating pitch sounded to the side. Colonel Tigh stood at attention a few meters from her. “Permission to come aboard, Colonel?” asked Roslin smiling.
“Permission granted Madam President, and welcome aboard.” Said a smiling Tigh looking sharp in his always-pressed duty uniform. Admiral Adama is awaiting your arrival in the CIC.” The two walked the long distance to the CIC, and Roslin thought that she really was not going to miss visiting this old ship. She looked forward to being on terra firma again, with clean air, blue skies, and the sounds of wildlife in her ears. Upon entering the CIC Admiral Adama smiled and offered his hand.
“Welcome aboard Madam President!” said Adama graciously. The two had not gotten off to a good start immediately following the attacks on the colonies, but in the years on the run had become very close friends and confidants.
“Lt. Gaeta, you have the deck!” ordered Adama as he motioned for the President to follow him. Colonel Tigh was officially off duty, and would be retiring to his quarters. Felix Gaeta acknowledged the order and Dee Adama relieved him as the Tactical Officer.
The two walked to Adama's nearby quarters and sat down. A steward had arranged for a tray of fresh pastries and coffee to be waiting for them. Adama dismissed the ensign and proceeded to pour two cups of coffee. He knew how Roslin took her coffee and handed it to her with a small plate of pastry that had arrived from Earth in the last delivery.
“I'm going to miss these visits above all, Bill.” Said Roslin with a touch of sadness in her voice.
“The feeling is mutual Laura; I've enjoyed our visits over the years.” Replied Adama as he bit at a lemon square. “This is your last official visit to GALACTICA before going down to set up shop. I thought it appropriate that our visit be as casual as possible.” He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a wrapped object. Handing it to her, he slowly sank back into his overstuffed chair.
Roslin was surprised, she took the gift and carefully unwrapped the paper. Two large leather-bound books were within, one from famous Earth author William Shakespeare, and the other was a book about Hercule Poirot, a famous fictional detective written by
author Agatha Christie. “Bill, I don't know what to say…this is so thoughtful of you.” Said Roslin, clearly touched by the gift.
“I knew you have a taste for a good mystery, Laura. Shakespeare came highly recommended from General McAllister who also happens to be an avid reader.”
“Will you be going down to the surface any time soon?”
“Funny you should mention that, as a matter of fact I will be the guest of General McAllister and President McGregor at an Earth sporting event. An annual college football game, played by opposing teams of the United States Military Academy for their Army, and the United States Naval Academy. From what I'm told it's got quite the historical Rivalry theme to it.”
“College Football?” asked Roslin.
“The more popular sport played in their colleges, there is also a professional league, but these are military-orientated colleges.” Explained Adama.
“I see…well you've always enjoyed sports, and I'm sure that this will be a nice change from Pyramid. You deserve some R & R, Bill; you have held this battered fleet and the hopes of the people within it together for so long through such trying circumstances. If there was a rank above Admiral I'd bestow it upon you!”
“Thank you Laura, that means so much to me. We have finally made it to Earth, and only the Gods know what will happen next. Our people are at a pivotal junction in Colonial history, as I am sure the people of Earth are also. We need to seize these opportunities, and create a better future for all of us.” Said Adama.
“Admiral…I couldn't have said it any better.
Ten Peter Built tractor trailers rolled to a stop on the South runway, within each trailer was two newly constructed Mark II Vipers. Flight crews carefully rolled each fighter down the ramp with the assistance of a medium sized tractor. The paint job pristine and red striping precise along the nose and wings. While the speed in which they were constructed was not equal to the shipyards of Caprica, the time it did take was a testament to Earth industrial prowess in completing the task with completely alien technological design and propulsion. The tail rudders were numbered E1 thru E20, the E standing for Earth. The plates affixed just below the cockpit canopy all blank, awaiting the assigned pilot's call sign to be stenciled on it.
Captain Matthew Lensherr stood with Colonel Hoffman and Major Adama overseeing the offload. The Vipers were parked neatly along the flight line. “Beautiful job Colonel Hoffman.” Said Apollo looking highly satisfied. The three officers walked from Viper to Viper making non-specific observations in and out of the cockpit.
Colonel Jack Hoffman stopped at Viper E1; he ran his fingers over the starboard side 30mm cannon protruding under the wing. He knew that this Viper would be assigned to him, and was looking forward to having his call sign Hannibal stenciled onto the side. Lensherr came up behind him putting his hand on his shoulder. “An excellent job colonel, once we get them fueled and pre-flight checks done we'll see just how well Northrop Grumman did their jobs.” Said Lensherr.
“There are fewer if any other manufacturing plants of military aircraft on Earth that could do a better job, captain. You have no idea what a second lease on life you people have given me. After my wife died of cancer, I buried myself in my work, eventually landing behind a desk. When I sat in the cockpit of your simulators it all came back to me, even if it was not a fighter I ever flew. I was in the skies again, and that's all that mattered.” Replied Hoffman.
Lensherr was good at reading people, and his first impression of Jack Hoffman was a serious chair-bound paper pusher in need of an infusion of life. Putting him back in the pilot's seat gave him that infusion, as did Kara Thrace. The attraction between the two was hardly a secret, or vague. He had known Kara for years, and since meeting Hoffman, had become an almost different person. He was happy for her, and now he felt equally happy for a man he had not known for very long, but had come to respect.
“Kara is good woman, and a great Viper pilot, Jack. Please forgive me if I'm overstepping my boundary, but I want you to know that she is well liked and respected aboard the GALACTICA, and I've never seen her happier than what she is now since she met you.” Offered Lensherr.
“Thank you Matt, it means a lot to hear you say that. I like her very much.”
“If you two are done chit chatting perhaps you'd care to suit up and take these new fighters out on a trial run.” Shouted Apollo from the cockpit of a Viper. Hoffman had signed off two weeks ago on the Mk II Viper, and his space flight training was intense. He looked forward to piloting his own Viper free from the confines of Earth's gravity.
The Northup Grumman group had created a powerful copy of the Colonial Voram VM3-D22 turbo thrust engine with some slight alterations, Vipers E1 through E6 idled on the flight line as the pilots checked and double-checked every system. Colonel Jack Hoffman adjusted the straps on his chute harness, his airtight gloves gripping the control stick. The whine of the engines sounded like music to his ears, and he awaited clearance from the tower.
“Dreamland to Viper One and Two you are cleared for parallel take off on runway Delta, over.” Came the voice of the air traffic controller on the pilot's helmet coms.
“Dreamland, Hannibal receives clearance on Runway Delta, over.” Hephaestus was in Viper E2 and acknowledged the tower, as did the remaining four Vipers piloted by Apollo, Aslan, Fireball and Aphrodite. Hannibal released the brakes and taxied down the runway increasing his speed, Lensherr kept abreast of him at matching speed. The two newly built Vipers hurtled down 27,000 feet of runway extending out over Groom Dry Lake . Once airborne the two Vipers climbed to their cruising atmospheric ceiling of 80,000 feet, thirty thousand higher than an F-22 Raptor was rated for.
“This is incredible Hephaestus; it handles so much tighter than the Vipers from GALACTICA that we trained on.” Said Hannibal .
“You need to remember that the CAG kept his best Mark II's in reserve aboard GALACTICA, and that you trained on Vipers that were operational, but far from optimal. There is not one Viper aboard GALACTICA that has not been beaten on, or held together with spit and wire. I am certain that these new Vipers will replace most of the front line strike fighters aboard GALACTICA, and the older planes brought planet-side for training. However, between you and me Colonel…the Viper you are currently flying has been reserved for you. With authority come the perks.” said Hephaestus.
“Thanks for the heads up captain, I'll act surprised when they give me the keys.” Replied Hannibal laughing.
“ Hannibal , Apollo…are you ready to take that ship into space?”
“Say the word Major, and I'll kick in the burn.” Replied Hannibal .
“Good Lords he's been hanging out with Starbuck too much, either her or Aslan.” Deadpanned Hephaestus. The six Vipers fell into a tight formation and burned a trail to the upper atmosphere. The new fighters performed flawlessly and were soon escaping Earth orbit. The Colonial pilots found the new Vipers very comfortable, the seat upholstery was very thick and comfortable. The Vipers aboard the GALACTICA had been subjected to endless patrols and combat flights with very limited replacement parts. Tee shirts and rags had been stuffed into the seat coverings to give the pilots some comfort for the long patrols. The seats on the new Vipers were constructed of the finest leather and sheepskin available, and the tired Viper pilots aboard GALACTICA would welcome them.
Hoffman marveled at the view from space. This was his forth trip up in a Viper, this time he was no longer a trainee, or soloing for the first time. He was a certified Viper pilot and he was roaring through space. Aslan pulled up next to Hannibal . “Welcome to space Hannibal , you're no longer a nugget but a full Viper pilot.”
CHAPTER 12
FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:
It has been almost nine months since our arrival on Earth. I continue to be amazed at the welcome our people have received. Sanctuary has been graciously extended to us, and over the months, our people have left the stifling confines of their ships to relocate to the planet's surface. We had found Earth to be very similar to our own worlds, with slight differences outside of technology and space flight.
The planet is populated by a variety of races and governments, many of these governments were adversarial at best, outright enemies at the worst. I have chosen to ally the fleet with the planet's leading power, the United States of America .
We had revealed to them the existence of the Cylons, and the direct threat they posed to Earth. This started a process of bringing nations together, something that had been impossible prior to our arrival. I had authorized the creation of a joint training taskforce with senior commanders of the United States Military to train new Viper pilots, and have been informed that the academies are excelling. Subsequent training academies will be opened to nations outside of the United States in due time.
As of this time, the production facilities at Northrop Grumman have produced four complete squadrons of Mark II Vipers, and another six squadrons are expected to be completed in the next four months at the Louis-Charles Bréguet aircraft builders in France . Construction on the new Mercury class Battlestar has remained on schedule and at this pace may well be completed on schedule, and the keel for the second Battlestar has already been laid. Due to time constraints, I decided to have the new Battlestars built at a smaller scale. She will house a smaller compliment of Vipers, but she will be highly maneuverable due to her size, and project enough firepower to hold her own against a Cylon Basestar.
A temporary program has been created to train new officers and enlisted personnel to fill slots aboard GALACTICA and future Battlestars. These men and women will be chosen from the current rank and file of Earth's various militaries. As the nations of this world make peace and lower their sabers, the need to sustain their bloated militaries decreases rapidly. Plans are in motion to disband the numerous militaries of individual nations and unify under one planetary command.
In closing, I have decided to promote Colonel Tigh, and give him command of the new Battlestar upon its completion. He has been my executive officer for close to ten years now and has proven fully capable of commanding his own Battlestar. Just before the attack on the Colonies, I was in the twilight of my career, looking forward to retirement. Now I find myself with renewed vigor and purpose, I look forward to what is to come.
It is with a degree of joy and fear that I can report that the child of Captain Matthew Lensherr and Cylon D'Anna Biers has been born on Earth. This human/Cylon hybrid may well be the face of humanity to come. The proud parents have named their son James. Captain Lensherr is still temporarily assigned to the training facility at Groom Lake , and is housed in the Officer's quarters. It is unknown whether mother and child will remain on Earth when his assignment is completed. The officers and their spouses have warmly received D'Anna, though I am unsure if this is out of respect to Captain Lensherr, or through her own formidable charm. For now, she has been accepted, and I hope the good will endures when the Cylons finally find Earth.
Leoben looked about the room, peering deeply into the eyes of each humanoid-Cylon before him. “We've tracked them across the cosmos to no avail it would seem.” His cold gray eyes revealed nothing about what he was feeling. The Six standing before him smiled.
“It would seem that they led us on a fool's quest. At least 15 extremely long jumps and still no sign of the Colonial fleet, I'm impressed.” Said the Six.
Cavil did not look so pleased, or impressed. “It was an elaborate ruse; we've traced their signal to each quadrant only to have found nothing…each time!”
“There is no doubt we were purposely led in this direction.” Said Doral. “We're far away from any support or resurrection ship. How far do we want to take this?”
“I say we retrace our steps.” Growled Cavil.
“How far back, how do we accurately determine how far back we should go?” asked Six.
“We go back to our last confirmed contact with their fleet, evaluate all data and possible courses they may have taken. We're well out of range of the main fleet, so we'll be on our own for awhile.” Replied Leoben. “Fortunately this Basestar is at maximum Raider capacity if we do come in contact with the GALACTICA and her pathetic charges.” With that, the massive Cylon Basestar jumps away.
In Admiral Adama's quarters, a meeting is underway with Top Earth Military Commanders and their Colonial counterparts. With the completion of at least four new Viper squadrons, the task before them is to make them operational.
“After discussion with the CAG and General McAllister we have decided to make the current four Viper squadrons operational. For the moment, these squadrons will be assigned to planetary bases, and I intend to assign three of those groups to the New Battlestar upon its completion.” Said Adama. The CAG had stood up and retrieved a magnetic status board from the corner of the room, propping it up on a stand. It revealed an organizational chart for the air wings assigned to GALACTICA.
“As of 0800 hours this morning Lieutenant Mark Sarnex has been promoted to Captain and assigned as squadron leader of Werewolf squadron. He will have ten Vipers under his command, and he will choose his assistant squadron leader within the next few days after reviewing performance records from the new training academy.” Said Apollo. “These squadrons will be a mix of pilots from the GALACTICA and Earth's recent training graduates. We will begin to integrate air wings, and begin rotating tours of one year between the fleet and Earth. The remaining squadrons are still in flux as to who will be leading them; I have yet to speak with Starbuck, Falcon, and a few of the other senior pilots.”
“The fleet?” said Tigh with a note of amusement. The Admiral spoke up in response.
“The new Battlestar will be online after her shakedown cruise and testing. The new Mercury Class Battlestar has been designated TERRA-1 in honor of the people of Earth. Their blood, sweat and tears accompanied the materials used to build her and I feel it an appropriate name for her. Furthermore, the new commander of TERRA-1 will be Colonel Tigh. I could think of no other officer better suited than my executive officer who I have had the distinct honor of serving with for the past ten years aboard GALACTICA.” Adama walked over to the seated Tigh with hand extended.
“Colonel it has been an honor, and I humbly present you command of Earth's first Colonial Battlestar TERRA-1.” Adama presented the command white shoulder cord to replace the yellow one normally worn on the executive officer's dress grays. Tigh stood and shook hands, coming to the position of attention he snapped out a stiff salute then accepted the shoulder cord.
“With great appreciation I accept command of TERRA-1, Admiral. I will do my best to prove worthy of such an honor, and make her a model of efficiency in Earth's new planetary defense force.” The men in the room stood and applauded, and one by one shook hands with the new commander of TERRA-1.
“Commander Tigh will be selecting his executive officer who will be coming from US Air Force senior command. While the rigor of space is no place for on-the-job training of pilots and Battlestar command staff, we do not have the luxury of an alternative. General McAllister and I have been in intense discussions with Presidents Roslin and McGregor, and it has been agreed that an integrated military across the board is in our best interest as one human race.”
“At this time I ask Major Lee Adama to step forward and receive the yellow cord of executive officer of the Battlestar GALACTICA.” Lee knew his rank and seniority had qualified him for consideration of the XO position, but he did not expect to be chosen. He had grown accustomed to being GALACTICA's CAG. General McAllister stepped forward and held out the yellow cord to a slightly stunned Lee Adama.
“Congratulations Colonel. It will be a pleasure to welcome you to senior command staff.” The armed forces of Earth's various countries had temporarily formed a committee consisting of the senior military officer of each country until one military could be fully formed. General McAllister was the ranking officer for this committee.
“Thank you, sir!” replied Apollo coming to attention and saluting.
“Let's finish this up gentlemen.” Began Adama. “Lt. Thrace is hereby promoted to Captain and now assigned as GALACTICA's CAG and will assume command of Blue squadron. Captain Lensherr will remain as squadron leader of Silver Spar.
Lensherr was not at this meeting, but he was briefed on what the contents would be. Adama left it to him to break the news to Mark Sarnex on his promotion and new assignment. He was thrilled for his good friend Mark, but dreaded losing him as his ASL. His choice to succeed Sarnex was Lieutenant Jon Hurlocher; call sign Peacemaker. Sitting in his office he was glancing at the photo of his wife and new son that he had taken and framed. The birth was without complications, and Earth doctors as well as Colonials received a rare treat in delivering a human/Cylon child. His temporary assignment awarded him a two bedroom spacious apartment in the officer's housing on base. D'Anna had made a very comfortable home for them, and he wondered what they would do once his assignment ended. He knew she would not be returning to GALACTICA. Now that the fleet had arrived at Earth, all civilians had moved planet side. The crisis that necessitated the housing of civilians on a Battlestar was over, and there was no need to risk having them aboard now.
The door flew open as Mark Sarnex walked in, box of Krispy Kremes in his hands. He plunked down into a stuffed chair and offered Lensherr a double chocolate donut.
“No thanks Mark, you'd better watch out with those things or your ass won't fit into a Viper anymore.” Laughed Lensherr.
“I do enough exercise to keep my girlish figure in check, worry not Hephaestus!”
“Just looking out for you, my friend, I wouldn't want an expanding gut and ass to prevent you from assuming your new assignment.” Replied Lensherr.
“What new assignment?” said Sarnex, his mouth full of donut.
Lensherr stood up and held out collar pins of Captain's rank to a surprised Sarnex. “Congratulations Captain! As of 0800 hours today, you have been promoted to Captain. You are hereby assigned as Squadron Leader of the newly formed Werewolf squadron.
“You're Fraking kidding me?” said Sarnex incredulously.
“I'm afraid not Nightstalker, you're officially in command of your own pack of fighter jocks at the rank of Captain. Congratulations my friend, you deserve this.” Said Lensherr smiling. “It gets better too…once the new Battlestar is online you will find your squadron assigned to it. The new Battlestar has been designated TERRA-1 and will be under the command of Colonel Tigh.”
“I have to admit, I never thought I'd see my own squadron.” Said Sarnex staring at the gold collar pins. “After the destruction of the Colonial fleet and the prospects of finding Earth remote I just assumed I'd ride out my days as your ASL.”
“Well its official and you deserve it my friend. Now let's get these collar pins where they belong.”
Back onboard GALACTICA Lt. Nina Nintius had just finisher her morning workout. After showering, she changed into her duty uniform when a knock came to her cabin door. “Enter!”
Lieutenant Jenna St. Lynn ; call sign Kraken had entered the room. Nintius finished fastening her tunic and then placed her long hair into a ponytail. “Lieutenant, thanks for getting here so quickly, take a seat.” Kraken sat down on the edge of Poseidon's bunk and casually glanced about the room waiting for Nintius to speak. “Admiral Adama has made several promotions and assignment changes to GALACTICA's air wing. As of today, your Raptor and ECO has been assigned to Silver Spar squadron. With the creation of new Viper squadrons, we no longer need to rotate Raptor teams throughout the GALACTICA's two squadrons. We will be receiving a third squadron soon, and each squadron will be assigned a permanent Raptor team and secondary.
“Aye sir.” She replied, clearly pleased to finally be assigned full time to one squadron.
“I thought I'd ask off the record, but have you had any other “issues” with Lancelot?” asked Nintius, clearly remembering the last encounter between the two. Lancelot had far too strong an amorous streak to him, and Kraken while extremely attractive, was not interested in forming any relationship within the GALACTICA's air wing. She smiled, remembering the incident in the pilot's lounge with the fire extinguisher. She had been used to being hit on by men when still a civilian on Caprica, and had fully expected to be treated as an equal when she enlisted in the military. While most Viper pilots were reputed to be oversexed, Lancelot had proven to be the extreme.
“No sir, a good frozen blast to the balls cooled him off. It's doubtful I'll need to repeat that performance.” She replied.
“Excellent! Remember Jenna, these Viper jocks think that they are the Gods gift to the female species and need to be brought back to reality. You're attractive and got an incredible body that can get you anything you want in life, but let these Frakers know that you're a pilot and an officer first and foremost.” Nina motioned to the door, as Kraken started to walk by Nina grabbed her by the shoulder gently. “Just don't forget that you're a woman, and use your charms where you can!” Nina liked Kraken very much; she was not a weak, preening, vacuous female that gave strong female officers a bad rap. The Colonial Military was a bit different from the military branches on Earth, there female officers and enlisted personnel faced various levels of sexism. She had never experienced sexism in her career, and was damn near sure she wouldn't let it creep up from Earth to infect the new military that was being formed.
Nintius was tough as nails, and those that knew her well knew she did not suffer fools lightly. While having a reputation for being extremely flirtatious, she was a top notch Raptor pilot, the best in the fleet, and an above average officer overall. Those under her command, especially if they were female were going to be respected, and they were going to excel.
Mark Sarnex had just finished replacing his collar insignia with the new rank when the door opened. In walked D'Anna carrying the Lensherr's new offspring, Sarnex could not believe she had just had a child not too long ago; she was almost back to her perfect shape already with some noticeable changes. D'Anna was obviously nursing the baby and the bustline he always enjoyed sneaking a peek at was even bigger.
“I hope I'm not interfering with anything, gentlemen?” asked D'Anna as she placed the baby carrier onto the desk. Sarnex peeked into the carrier. “Beautiful child you two have there…I'm sure he gets his looks from his mother.” Said Sarnex playfully. D'Anna walked over to him and embraced him, giving his a quick kiss. “My… aren't you the flirt.”
“I was just informing Mark of his promotion to Captain, and new assignment as Werewolf squadron leader aboard the new Battlestar.” Said Lensherr
“Congratulations Mark, I can't think of a better man for the job. I'm surprised Matthew let you be transferred.”
“Captains don't refuse Admirals.” Laughed Lensherr. “On a serious note though, I was disappointed to lose you as my ASL, it's been an honor to serve with your, and its past time you got your own air group.”
The three had a lunch date off base and climbing into Lensherr's assigned hummer they soon drove away.
Laura Roslin sat across from President McGregor in the oval office, Admiral Adama sitting beside her. “Madame President and Admiral Adama thank you for joining me here today. We have come a very long way in a short period, since your arrival and the revelation of a possible Cylon arrival has united this planet for the first time in history. Nations once at war or adversarial at best have put aside their differences to fight for a common goal.” McGregor motioned for the Navy steward to leave the coffee tray beside the desk and take the next hour off.
“Mr. President, you above all have laid the foundation for all that has transpired since we've arrived on your doorstep, hunted and hungry, tired and in need of sanctuary. It is we who should be thanking you!” replied Roslin. “This planet is in a very difficult transition period, and your leadership has all but assured you remain in a very visible leadership position. The surviving members of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol are assimilating with their brothers and sisters from Earth, my position as President is almost at an end.”
“Laura…” said McGregor using her first name for the first time. “Your people will need a familiar face during what will most likely be a difficult transition period. It is my wish and intention for you to remain in a position of high visibility, a liaison perhaps between the twelfth and thirteenth colony.”
“I agree with him.” said Adama sipping his coffee. “Our people need to know that all they're familiar with won't be swept away, that they won't just be placed on earth and left to fend for themselves.”
“Laura it looks like I will remain in office until we have decided what to do regarding a single Earth government. The next session of the UN will be addressing this issue. All United States military branches are undergoing a massive transition, as are the militaries of the other five super powers. We have to adjust to the new realities of our lives, that no longer must we think and act locally, or globally, but to act and think beyond our world. Training academies are graduating scores of Viper and Raptor pilots from all over the world, the new Battlestar will be manned by an incredibly diverse group of humans, and the integration of our two peoples are essential, with much to offer and learn from the other. If and when you decide to step down from your position, I want to offer you a position in the temporary ‘Earth Government' as a special representative for the 40,000 colonials now residing on Earth.”
“Connor your generosity is inspiring, and I thank you for the offer. My plans are to resign my office, and the opportunity to serve my people in this momentous time in both our histories is too important to turn down. I accept your offer, providing that my people have no objections.”
“It is agreed then, the future of your people and mine are now a future of one human race, and we will be richer for your participation.” Said McGregor.
“Admiral, what is the progress on a unified earth military command?” said McGregor changing topics.
“Mr. President, the GALACTICA, along with Terra-1 will serve as protectors for Earth. As we design and build new warships, we will need qualified officers to serve aboard them. Per your orders as US Commander-in-chief your naval fleet has been reduced to less than 30 warships, the combined compliment of all the displaced personnel commissioned and not will be redeployed to the new combined Earth Defense Command. Your air forces have been reassigned to the EDC air command, Army and Marines reassigned to EDC ground forces.” Said Adama.
“For such a massive undertaking, things are transitioning smoother than I dared to hope.” Replied McGregor.
“As the senior surviving Colonial officer of flag rank I will remain in command of the GALACTICA, and be the commanding officer for EDC's space-faring element of the military as agreed upon. General McAllister will be the overall EDC commander, and an organizational chart of his senior staff and sub-staffs are provided in the documents on your desk. The EDC will be answerable to the civilian authority when it is finally chosen, in the meantime our armed forces will be answerable to you and the United Nations Security Council.”
“How close are we to Terra-1 being fully operational?”
“She is being fueled, which as you know is not an expedient process. She is fully armed, and once free of Earth orbit she will receive three complete squadrons of Mark II Vipers for a total of 30 Vipers and 6 Raptors. Terra-1 and subsequent Battlestars will be much smaller than the GALACTICA. We do not have the luxury of time to build a full-sized Battlestar armed with 100 Vipers as I explained earlier. We need a fast striking attack force to defend against a much larger enemy force if and when the Cylons locate Earth.”
“I understand the crew compliment is close to 1500?” asked Laura.
“Yes Madam President, a full sized Battlestar has a compliment of 1750 to 2650 personnel. The smaller version will cut crew requirements in half. Fortunately, the disbanding of military units across Earth will yield highly disciplined individuals that have entered our training academies. I have reassigned experienced personnel from GALACTICA to staff Terra-1, and help further the Earth crew's familiarity with the technology. Terra-1 will have a qualified crew, maybe not as seasoned as GALACTICA's, but we do what we can with the resources available to us.”
“How is retention of current Colonial personnel?” Adama shifted in his seat and placed his coffee cup back onto the saucer that sat on the corner of McGregor's desk.
“After consulting with President Roslin I had decided to issue an edict putting retirements from active service on hold until Earth personnel could be properly trained.” It was obvious that McGregor was taken back by that decision. “Mr. President, I've had to make incredibly hard decisions since the destruction of our worlds, and every single one had been with the goal of what was best for our race's survival. Martial law is not unknown to any nation on Earth, and from what I have researched not always enacted in the best of ways. Members of the Colonial military knew what was and continue to be expected of them, and the survivors know in a much harder learned lesson than their predecessors did. I don't expect a wholesale retirement from the service when the order is lifted, right now it must be done while everything is in flux.”
“Mr. President, I can assure you that I am not one that is normally in favor of the military commanders imposing Martial Law but under these circumstances I am forced to agree with the Admiral. The threat is just as great, and it would not do to have a skeleton crew operating our defenses. We learned such a lesson back on New Caprica.”
“I understand, and please believe me when I tell you I'm not questioning your judgment, Admiral. You know full well the threat we face, and what needs to be done to combat it better than I ever could.”
“A space-faring warship is no different than a sea-faring one, Mr. President. It requires extremely talented and bright men and women to operate them efficiently. Learning the operations of a Battlestar takes years of training, and we are particularly handicapped due to the technology being so advanced and the possibility of discovery by the Cylons at any time. We have been getting extremely intelligent and professional military officers from across the globe, as well as civilians who have grasped the technology at an incredible speed.
“Earth Defense Command…the concept boggles the mind.”
“The people of Earth will have to adapt to thinking as one world as opposed to hundreds of independent nations. It will not be easy and there will be obstacles, but the alternative is unacceptable with the threat of Cylon discovery. The Cylons will not play favorites; they will destroy this planet if they cannot subjugate it.” Said Adama.
Roslin spoke up. “Mr. President, after their experience on New Caprica, I doubt the Cylons will attempt subjugation. Not when there are billions of humans as opposed to less than 40,000 to control. I fear if they come, they will attempt total liquidation of the human race once and for all.”
On that somber note, the meeting ended and Adama returned to GALACTICA. Roslin remained behind to discuss her future role when she resigns the Presidency. The Raptor lifted off from Edwards Air Force Base and made for orbit. Raptor 3, piloted by Kraken approached GALACTICA as she maintained orbit around Earth.
“GALACTICA, Raptor 3 requesting clearance to land with GALACTICA Actual.”
“Raptor 3 this is GALACTICA you are cleared to land in the port landing bay.”
Kraken brought the Raptor through the immense portals and lowered the craft onto the deck. The decking automatically magnetized holding the Raptor to the deck in zero gravity. The platform lowered into the bay below where the occupants would disembark. Adama stepped out as Kraken finished powering down her instruments; he walked briskly to the CIC.
“Admiral on deck!” informed Gaeta who at that moment was officer of the deck when he saw Adama enter the CIC.
“As you were people.” He replied strolling over to Lee who stood beneath the Dradis, hands folded behind his back.
“Welcome back Admiral. I trust your meeting went well?”
“As expected XO. How are we on replacement vipers?”
“We've completely replaced every Mark II Viper on board; all older models have either been sent to the Groom Lake to be used in training or finally taken out of service. It was amazing the condition of some of our front line Vipers, prior to the attack on the Colonies I'd be willing to bet that none of those Vipers would have been on the line.” Said Lee.
“We accomplished miracles with what we had; at least now GALACTICA's Viper compliment is up to full strength. Is the new squadron ready to go online?”
“Affirmative sir, Hunter Seeker squadron is aboard. Falcon is presently on the flight deck meeting his new squadron.”
On the GALACTICA's starboard flight deck Captain Tony Bastain; call sign Falcon was performing an impromptu inspection of the pilots assigned to the newly created Hunter Seeker squadron. Eight men and women stood at attention as Falcon and Hannibal, his assistant squadron leader walked by. The new squadron was a mixture of Colonial and Earth pilots. All looked sharp in their flight suits, eyes straight ahead and faces expressionless.
“Alright nuggets…your sorry asses have been handed to me because the Admiral had the foresight to put another strike squadron in service. You are now members of the soon-to-be top fighter squadron in the fleet…Hunter Seeker Squadron!” Growled Falcon. “I've reviewed each one of your military records, and evaluation reports on your Viper training and previously assigned aircraft. I do not impress easily nuggets, but I do like what I see before me. We will train hard! The Cylons are coming, it is only a matter of time, and two Battlestars are all that stands between living and dying. We will drill relentlessly in simulators and out in your fighters. None of you Earth pilots have faced a Cylon Raider, and you must train extra hard to have a chance against them in actual combat.”
Falcon stopped in front of an Earth pilot and stared directly into his eyes. Major Shen formerly of the Peoples Republic of China 's Air Force met his gaze, with the formation of the one world military many officers had their rank readjusted. “Lieutenant Shen, I understand that besides Hannibal you're my most experienced Earth pilot, in fact you've already met two of our own pilots during an act of aggression upon our arrival. I trust I can count on your experience?”
“Your assumption would be correct, Captain.” Said Shen flatly, his gaze never leaving the spot before him.
“Excellent. I realize that many of you held higher rank on Earth, and I appreciate your acceptance of rank reduction for the new Earth Defense Command. As I am sure you all know, we cannot have a military that is top heavy in rank. We will be the squadron that all others aspire to. Our assigned Raptor team will be Phoenix and ECO Snapdragon aboard Raptor 4. Get to know each other better than you already do; you are a team, and my team plays together, eats together and spackles the bowl in the head together! Do I make myself clear?”
A resounding “Yes Sir” filled the launch bay, and they were dismissed to preflight their Vipers. The call sign and name of the pilot penciled on the side of the fuselage directly under the canopy.
Hannibal walked over to Falcon. “No worries about having an inexperienced old fighter jock assigned to your squadron as the ASL?”
“I've seen your record; you have plenty of combat experience that will make up for what you're lacking in Raider experience. What I need is an ASL who can keep a tight grip, this is a brand new squadron and I plan to make it the best.”
“Then I'm your man. It's been years since I've seen real combat, but I wouldn't miss the chance to get back in the cockpit for anything.”
“The let's give these mother-Frakers the training they need to become that hard core fighter squadron.” Replied Bastain. Ten Vipers were loaded into the tubes; one by one, they hurtled into the darkness of space.
Lensherr was wide-awake; he had climbed into bed an hour ago and could not fall asleep. D'Anna slept peacefully beside him, and James slept in his crib in the next room. He gently rolled out of bed and walked into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a bottle of beer. He liked Earth beer very much, and particularly enjoyed the German-brewed variety. It felt like forever since he drank the beer of his home world of Aerelon, and whatever alcohol was on board GALACTICA and any of the other fleeing ships were almost completely gone within the first year of their exodus from the Colonies. Opening the bottle, he walked out onto the balcony into the hot evening air of Nevada . The stars looked completely different from this angle. He enjoyed having his feet back upon solid ground and wondered how soon he would be recalled to GALACTICA.
“You need your sleep Hephaestus,” came a voice from behind him. He did not turn, and awaited the warm hands to slide around his waist. “Perhaps I need to give you better incentives to stay in bed?”
Turning around he looked D'Anna straight in the eyes. She looked incredible in the moonlight, and her green eyes stood out brightly. It was hard to believe that she was a cybernetic construct. Two years ago she and her other Cylon models engineered the downfall of humanity, now he was married to her and conceived a child. She was different, not as ruthless as the Doral model, or as deadly as the Leoben model. She was beautiful, seductive and she had what could have been called a crisis of conscience. She turned her back on her race and aided the fleeing humans. As a result, her entire series was most likely boxed. He bent down and kissed her on the lips.
“Tomorrow we launch Terra-1. I will be escorting her into space where she will receive her new squadrons. I'll be gone at least the entire day.”
She looked at him curiously. “You're upset about losing Mark, aren't you?”
Lensherr pursed his lips and replied. “No, this is a great opportunity for him, he's ready for his own wing and he'll be in a position to mold his team his own way. I'm bumping Hotdog up to ASL, and I should probably be grateful the old man didn't take anyone else from me.”
She took the bottle from his hand and took a swig. “So is this new Battlestar going to have the firepower to confront a Basestar when it arrives?
“It won't be able to stand toe to toe, and its fighters will be outnumbered by at least 70 Raiders. However it is lighter and more maneuverable which will make hitting it that much harder.”
“You realize they will find Earth. By now, they have discovered the ruse, and will be backtracking their jumps. Leoben will be relentless, especially with the Cavils driving him.”
“We'll be ready for whatever they throw at us, come on…get your ass back in bed and give me some incentives to stay there!”
0800 hours. Hundreds of media trucks lined the road that ran along the perimeter of the Groom Lake facility. Today was the day that Earth's first space-faring warship would be launched. Security was intense, and absolutely no unauthorized personnel were allowed on base this day. Most non-essential personnel were given the day off. The Battlestar Terra-1 was the combined project of Colonial technology and Earth resources. She was half the size of the GALACTICA, roughly two Earth Nuclear-powered Super Aircraft Carriers long. She would carry thirty Mark II Vipers split into three squadrons: Werewolf squadron, Omega squadron and Red Lancer squadron. Six Raptors are attached to the Battlestar with three of them assigned to the Viper squadrons. Her weaponry consists of Primary and point-defense Kinetic Energy Weapons, conventional missiles, and nuclear warheads.
Commander Tigh's entourage arrived at the scheduled time. Outfitted in dress grays with the white shoulder cord of command he stepped out of the vehicle. Unlike their Earth counterparts, Colonial officers did not wear headgear in any of their uniform variations. The Colonel was followed by General Peter McAllister, the Supreme Commander of the Earth Defense Command, and former United States Marine Corps Lieutenant General Alexander Patton; the new executive officer now at the rank of Colonel. They passed through the honor guard and were piped aboard per Earth military custom.
The corridors were spotless and very bright, unlike GALACTICA thought Tigh. Earth and Colonial crewmembers came to attention as the party passed enroute to CIC. He paused at the main door, a thick glass sliding door with the Battlestar's insignia etched into it. The crewmembers within the CIC were standing at attention when Tigh walked into the room, he stopped beneath the Dradis screen suspended from the ceiling and looked around him. The men and women before him were dressed in their duty uniforms, and staffing their assigned stations. This CIC was smaller than GALACTICA's, and was all on one level.
“Ladies and gentlemen please stand at ease.” ordered the new commander of Terra-1. “This is an historic day in Earth and Colonial history, and we are all fortunate to be part of it. As the first commanding officer of the Battlestar Terra-1, I wish to thank all of those who have volunteered to serve aboard her. Colonel Patton and I look forward to serving with you, and know that this warship will be staffed by the finest personnel in the galaxy.”
Tigh clasped his hands behind his back and turned towards his executive officer. “Colonel, preflight checks have been reported complete, please initiate start up procedures.” Colonel Patton was the poster boy for what a United States Marine should look like; he stood at six foot four inches, and had a high and tight haircut that was starting to show traces of gray.
“Aye aye, sir!” came the crisp reply. “Helm, verify that the gangway has been retracted, and launch zone secured!” After communicating with the yard control, it had been confirmed that the launch zone was clear and secure and authorization had been granted for lift off at Terra-1 Actual's discretion. The engines had roared to life, the helmsman's board indicated green confirming all systems operating within normal parameters.
“Colonel we are cleared for take off!” reported Patton.
“Helm take her up.” Ordered Tigh.
The massive spaceship slowly lifted off the ground as its maneuvering thrusters glowed brightly. The event was being filmed, and every corner of the globe was watching history in the making. The launching was well scripted for the media; Terra-1 leveled off at 4000 feet above the surface of the planet and hovered. The sounds of Viper engines screamed overhead as the air wing for Terra-1 flew in tight formation from the far side of Groom Lake low over the main road containing the media. The flyby was spectacular and soon disappeared over the mountains. Terra-1 engaged her main engines and started to pull away from the area, slowly ascending.
“Entering the upper atmosphere, Commander.” reported the XO. “Vipers are riding our wake and gaining.”
Captain Mark Sarnex was at the tip of the formation, his hand gripping the joystick tightly. The rush of breaking free of any planet's orbit and entering the cold beauty of space always pleased him. His brand new Mark II Viper handled magnificently; there were no cobbled together parts, slight shuddering when engaging the thruster pedal or the more than occasional short. This was a fresh off the factory line fighter, and it was his. He was now the strike leader for Werewolf squadron, and had nine other pilots under his command. His ASL was Lt. Rachel Frost; call sign Bedlam. She had briefly served aboard the Battlestar Columbia prior to the Cylon attack. She had been transferred to GALACTICA in an effort to keep her from facing a court martial for shattering the jaw of a senior officer who had groped her, as she was alone in the hanger bay. She was an excellent pilot, and Sarnex was happy to have her under his command.
The fighters remained in Terra-1's wake, as she broke free of Earth's gravitational field. Once the Battlestar arrived on station the air wings would be directed to land. In the CIC, the Dradis had picked up GALACTICA's location high above Earth. The communications officer turned to the executive officer. “Colonel, I'm receiving a scrambled message from GALACTICA actual.”
“Put it on the speakers, Lieutenant!”
Admiral Adama's voice boomed across the wireless. “Welcome to space Terra-1, and congratulations Commander Tigh and crew.”
“Thank you Admiral, all systems are functioning and we await your orders to start our shakedown cruise.”
“Gather your wings and execute shakedown maneuvers, Commander…and Good Hunting!” The wireless went silent and Tigh turned to Patton. “Colonel, order the fighters to land, we'll begin shakedown in two hours, you have the deck.”
CHAPTER 13
FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:
With the long-awaited successful launching of the Battlestar Terra-1, Earth has added a second protector to her defenses. I have installed Saul Tigh in command and he has chosen his Executive Officer from the ranks of Earth's military. Former Lieutenant General Alexander Patton of the United States Marine Corps is an exemplary officer, and had graciously accepted a reduction in rank to Colonel and assignment as XO of Terra-1.
Commander Tigh had chosen his senior command staff from both Earth and Colonial Military officers. This is a testament to his professionalism and sound judgment, which I have relied on for so many years. This command is befitting a man of his service and stature. I foresee a very bright future for him, and the ship in which he commands.
The completion of Terra-1 was record-breaking, never before have Earth engineers undertaken such a feat. Their grasp of our technology and spirit they instilled in the workers who constructed the ship is beyond my ability to put into words. The keel for the yet to be named second Battlestar has been laid, and materials and labor continue to flow into the dry-dock. The people of Earth have come together for the first time in a common goal, and are determined to stand their ground against the Cylons. GALACTICA is tired, and she has served the Colonies faithfully and with distinction. She will now begin the second half of her career in the defense of her new home world. Over the past few months, GALACTICA has gone through various upgrades, and finally has brand new Vipers to protect her. For the first time in years, I feel that we finally have the means to take the fight to the Cylons. Of course, two Battlestars are nowhere near powerful enough to engage the Cylon Empire, the feelings of pride fills me nonetheless.
Earth Defense Command is now in operation, General Peter McAllister is the Supreme Commander, and his senior staff is made up of seasoned and respected officers from many of Earth's former militaries. There are three branches of the EDC; the planetary Air Command made up of Viper and F-22 Raptor air groups spread out across the globe, the Infantry Command made up of Army and Marine forces, and finally the Space Command which falls under my complete authority. My first official act has been to request the immediate construction of automated orbiting defense platforms capable of maintaining a line of defense in the absence of Battlestars. I have suggested to General McAllister that the first such platforms be stationed in a lunar orbit, and in orbit of some of the outer planets of the solar system.
My son Lee has assumed his duties as the new Executive Officer, and has already performed with distinction. I look forward with great anticipation in the coming months and years as the new fleet is built, and the people of Earth and the people of the Colonies integrate into one human race.
Since the destruction of the Colonies, and the ensuing exodus across the stars, every available space aboard GALACTICA and her civilian fleet were utilized at its fullest. Crewmembers were forced to live six to a crowded room on bunks stacked three high. As personnel are reassigned, and the demand for space subsides crew comfort is finally taken into consideration.
Captain Elyssa DeAlma stuffs the last of her belongings into several large duffel bags with the call sign Poseidon stenciled in bold lettering. Glancing around the small two-bunk cabin for the last time, she prepares to depart GALACTICA for her new assignment as senior Raptor pilot aboard the Battlestar Terra-1. Assigned to Werewolf squadron commanded by Captain Mark Sarnex, she looks forward to the change of scenery. Her roommate, and recently promoted to Captain, Nina Nintius sat cross-legged on her bunk.
“I can't say I'm going to miss the living accommodations aboard the ‘bucket', Nina. Terra-1 is pretty state of the art…I'm surprised you didn't get the slot.”
“What makes you think I wasn't offered?” asked Nina as she leaned back against the bulkhead. “The ‘bucket' is my home; I couldn't imagine transferring off of my beloved GALACTICA. Besides…the Admiral obviously wanted his best Raptor pilot kept on board.”
“I'm not going to miss your incredible gift for humility, Nina. I for one look forward to a modern Battlestar, and serving with Nightstalker will be the bonus. Let's see how good he is now that he's out of Hephaestus' shadow.”
“I'm quite certain Nightstalker will do just fine, Poseidon. You just make sure you take care of him and your squadron. Eyes sharp, and give the tin-plated Frakers hell.” The two officers stood and embraced, moments later Elyssa DeAlma was gone.
Nintius enjoyed the peace and quiet; she laid flat on her bunk staring at the empty bunk on the opposite wall. It would only be a matter of time now. A sharp rap at the door jarred her solitude. “ENTER!” she snapped.
Two large boxes stacked on top of each other entered the room. Bare arms grasped the sides of them, with a set of long legs beneath. Gently lowering the boxes onto the empty bunk its owner stood revealed. Lieutenant Jenna St. Lynn of Silver Spar squadron stood with her hands upon her hips surveying the small cabin. “Beats the six man cabins to hell!” she grunted. Turning towards Nintius, she snapped out a stiff salute. “Your new roommate reporting for duty Captain!”
“Sit your ass down Kraken, we're off duty. Well you just had the two cubits tour, not much to see, is it?”
“Like I said sir, beats the hell out of shacking up with five other foul stinking, snoring Viper jocks.” replied Kraken, sitting down on the edge of the bunk. Nintius already knew she would get along fine with this one, she had long admired the brash young beauty and they way she handled herself with a very drunken Lancelot in the officer's lounge. The girl was a good stick, and had the guts to run with the big dogs.
“Is that all the gear you've got?”
Kraken tore open the top box and started pulling out neatly folded clothing. “The only things I took with me from Caprica were some decent underwear, a few family mementos and my health. This is it! At least until I get leave and hit some of Earth's clothing stores.”
Nightstalker was last to land his Viper, in the future he would insist on being the first one out the tubes and last one onboard. With the exception of one heavy landing by one of the Earth pilots, all went smoothly. Powering down his fighter he climbed down the ladder provided by the deck gang, and met by his ASL Lieutenant Rachel Frost.
“Nice landing, skipper. All wings accounted for and powered down.”
“Excellent, let's get the nuggets squared away in their quarters and meet in the ready room at 1700 to discuss training.”
“Aye sir.” With that, the two squadron leaders departed the landing bay and headed for the pilot's quarters. Looking back, Sarnex was impressed with the way the deck gang parked the Vipers. The bay was much smaller than GALACTICA, but tool cribs and machinery were placed in positions that are more accessible, his guess was that the smaller Battlestar had to utilize its space more efficiently. The Vipers from Red Lancer squadron further impressed him; each Viper was painted blood red with white trim. Very nice he said to himself. Their squadron leader Vampire must have pulled some strings for that color-scheme he thought. Captain Ken Atreides was another member of the Blue squadron to be reassigned to Terra-1; he was now Squadron Leader to the Red Lancers.
Back in the CIC Commander Tigh was going over the shake down plans with his executive officer. They were to put Terra-1 through a series of tasks to test engine efficiency, weapons, and a short FTL jump to Saturn and back. Soon his three squadron leaders would be tasked with war games and practicing combat landings.
“Colonel, engineering reports ready for shake down.” Reported Lt. Digit.
“Very well, signal GALACTICA and inform them we will be leaving the area to start our tests.” Ordered Tigh. “Helm, bring us about on a course of one, one zero, cruising speed.”
“Course one, one zero, speed at cruising, aye sir!” replied the helmsman. Moving the double handled throttle slightly forward, the Battlestar accelerated, slowly pulling out of earth orbit. Her engines rumbling, Tigh settled into a high-backed chair reserved for the officer of the deck. The GALACTICA had no such command chair, but apparently, there were such chairs onboard every naval warship. The Mercury class design was modified to accommodate the various suggestions of Earth Engineers and senior military officers. The command chair was among one of them.
A blinding flash of light disturbs the tranquility of the blackness of space. Coming out of the jump, the Cylon Basestar glides ominously through the silence of space like a predator. Inside the control center, Leoben Conoy paces back and forth, a behavior that draws the attention of both Cavil models present. Doral removes his hands from the viscous fluid that makes up the control panel. “The Hybrid has confirmed that this is the exact quadrant that GALACTICA was last noted to be in by our patrols.”
“Is it sure?” asks Leoben, eliciting yet another curious glance from the Cavils. Doral is unflinching in his response. “Of course!” he replies.
“Send out the heavy raiders, I want short jumps of 1000 light year intervals in alternating tracks with a complete Dradis sweep of every quadrant.”
Cavil stepped forward to speak. “This course of action was not discussed between the collective, Leoben. This is highly irregular.” That brought the most feared of the Human-Cylon hybrids to a complete stop; he spun facing both Cavil models.
“That is because it wasn't left open to discussion, Cavil. Perhaps that is a reason why they have eluded us these past years, because valuable time is wasted in “collective discussions” and not enough action is being taken.” All eyes were now on Leoben, each model present noticed slight changes in him over the past year. Their Basestar had roamed the galaxy in search of the fugitive humans and had been out of contact with what passed for Cylon Command for the better part of a year. They traveled without a resurrection ship, or other support ships. This particular Basestar was the most recent constructed ship in the Cylon armada. It contained a maximum Raider and munitions load, and was completely self-sufficient.
“An unusual response to a legitimate question, Leoben…quite ‘human' I would say.” Said Cavil with a look of disgust upon his face. Leoben closed the space between them with surprising speed. “That is because we ‘are” part human, Cavil. We are the next step in Cylon-Human evolution. We should embrace that, not adhere to conformist doctrine that makes us no different than a Centurion.”
“I for one am not comfortable with your actions, Leoben.” challenged Cavil. Leoben just smiled, his gray eyes focused like a laser beam on Cavil.
“All things change brother Cavil.” Replied Leoben ominously. Both Cavil models turned simultaneously and left the control room. A moment later, a metallic Cylon of a previously unseen model stood next to Leoben who turned slowly to him.
“He is becoming more difficult as time passes, Lucifer. Perhaps change needs to come sooner than anticipated.”
The voice was soothing, almost melodic in its response. “By your command!”
Raptor 2 was making good time enroute to Terra-1's current position. The new Battlestar was on its shakedown flight and had already pulled away from GALACTICA prior to Poseidon's departure. Elyssa DeAlma was on final approach, and she looked forward to her new assignment. She had been assigned to GALACTICA for four years, and eagerly looked ahead to her future. Aboard GALACTICA, she was the number two Raptor Pilot, junior to Nina Nintius, and she wanted to break free of that shadow.
She had been eligible for promotion to Captain, and felt that she was long overdue for it. A new fleet was in the making, and she would be an influential part of it. Unlike the rest of the female officers aboard GALACTICA, who allowed themselves to be pushed around by the male officers and bypassed for promotions and choice assignments, she would be different. She would take what is hers by the force of her feminine charm and capacity for playing just as dirty as her male counterparts play. She was being assigned to Terra-1 as the senior Raptor pilot assigned to Werewolf squadron. She liked Nightstalker personally, but he was going to be on his own, it was one thing to be the assistant squadron leader, quite another to be the top dog himself. She had decided that she would make her presence felt, and truly believed that Mark Sarnex would welcome her advice and charm with open arms.
“Raptor 2 this is Terra-1, you are cleared for landing in the port flight pod. Your designation is now changed to Raptor 1…welcome aboard, Poseidon.”
“Raptor 2 acknowledging designation change to Raptor 1 and clearance for landing…thank you Terra-1, Raptor 1 has the ball.” Replied DeAlma. The Raptor glided through the portal and hovered above a platform designated “Raptor.” The craft gently lowered to the deck where it was soon held fast by the platform suddenly magnetizing. The Raptor was brought below deck and into the pressurized bay. The hatch opened and DeAlma stepped out followed by her ECO. She was greeted by Bedlam who stood in her duty uniform. This instantly annoyed DeAlma; she was expecting the squadron leader himself to welcome her aboard ship, Sarnex had sent his hand maiden to welcome her aboard, not a good start.
Rachel Frost came to attention and snapped out a stiff salute. “Welcome aboard Terra-1, Captain.” Poseidon returned the salute and looked about the bay.
“I was expecting squadron leader Sarnex to welcome me aboard Lieutenant. Where is he?”
“He is meeting with Red Lancer and Omega squadron's flight leaders, he asked me to welcome you aboard, and show you your quarters.”
“Very well, Lieutenant, be a dear and grab my bag!” said DeAlma imperiously, nodding to a duffle bag that would prove extremely heavy. She stepped aside and let the smaller lieutenant walk by struggling with her bag. A thin smile spread across her lips as she walked to her quarters. Terra-1 was half the size of GALACTICA, which meant the walk from flight deck to pilot's quarters, was much shorter. Within minutes, the two were at the door to DeAlma's quarters. A small placard was to the left of the door with the words ‘Captain Elyssa DeAlma' emblazoned on it. The second officer's name was unfamiliar to her; it was obviously a female Earth officer that she would be sharing a cabin with. Turning to a slightly winded Lt. Frost, she had taken the strap of her bag from Frost's shoulder and dismissed her without even a thank you. The pecking order would be first established here.
Captain Mark Sarnex peered over the organizational chart of Terra-1's Air wing. It was broken down into three squadrons, Werewolf, Omega, and Red Lancers. Behind him stood Vampire, and Omega squadron leader Captain Dillon Ramsey, call sign Bloodbath. All three men were drinking freshly brewed coffee, what was once a luxury item aboard the fleet was now a common everyday item.
“Once the ship completes its shakedown we will be free to conduct our own training, gentlemen.” Began Sarnex, turning back to them he swallowed another gulp of the rich Columbian blend brought aboard by an Earth officer who was very particular about his coffee. “We're in a great position to build an extremely efficient strike force. What many of the Earth pilots lack in Viper experience, they more than make up for in actual combat experience from your recent wars in the Middle East , and other excursions.”
Captain Dillon Ramsey was an F-22 Raptor pilot for the former United States Air Force. He was a short, yet stocky fighter pilot from a family of fighter pilots dating back to World War 2. If only his grandfather who flew the P-38 Lightning could see him now, not only a combat pilot and military officer, but also one assigned to a warship flying through space.
“Good coffee choice by the way, Dillon” said Vampire as he refilled his mug. Vampire was a health nut, and coffee was his only real vice, other than the occasional wrong woman.
“I never travel anywhere without my own stash, Ken.”
“The ship is going to make a jump out to Saturn to test the FTL drive,” began Sarnex. “I would like to take that opportunity to break in the Vipers doing some maneuvers close to Saturn's rings, asteroid and debris evasion and whatnot.”
“Sure, just what I need, some nugget to get his new paint job Fraked up.” Quipped Vampire.
“Red Vipers…what did you have to do to get that approved? Is it a combat fighter or parade piece?” laughed Nightstalker.
“Laugh all you want Nightstalker, in the end its all about the number of kills. I just plan to look good while kicking both your squadron's asses while doing it.” Replied Vampire.
Cavil was walking through the lush green gardens of Caprica with Simon at his side. The Cavil model always appreciated the original gardens that Caprica was known for and projected that image often while alone. At this time, he had Simon at his side looking for an ally in what was to come.
“He is becoming increasingly erratic Simon; his behavior is mirroring the humans more with each passing day.” Simon nodded his head slowly; his projections were completely different from Cavil's. Simon tended to use logic as a means for his operation or resolving issues, and has seldom, if ever displayed the passion that Cavil or even Leoben had revealed. His projection has him walking down a pristine and antiseptic corridor of the Caprican hospital otherwise known as “the farm.”
“His unwillingness to call for reinforcements to aid in our search, or even a Resurrection ship I admit has me perplexed.” Replied Simon, his tone of voice low and soothing.
“He is setting himself up as some ‘Imperious Leader' with delusions of grandeur.” Said Cavil sarcastically. “Have you also noticed his pet Centurion hanging about?” Simon stopped and gave Cavil a quizzical look.
“We are all Cylons, Cavil. I'm unsure if ‘Pet Centurion' adequately describes Lucifer.”
“What in God's name IS Lucifer? It is not the antiquated Model 0005 Centurion, or the newer version foot soldier the humans affectionately refer to as ‘toasters.' This thing is completely different in design, and is always within Leoben's presence. Don't you find that troubling?”
“I find that as troubling as I find this conversation, Cavil. What exactly do you want from me? Why are we not discussing this within the collective?”
“Because I have no idea who can be trusted.”
“Paranoia, Cavil?” asked Simon surprised.
“Look, Leoben is acting outside of the collective; he has constructed that…thing for God only knows what reason, and is placing the security of this Basestar at risk if and when we do find the fugitives. Without a Resurrection ship, we only have one life!”
“And your one life has now come to its end.” Came a new voice from behind. Simon and Cavil had swung around to come face to face with Lucifer. The Cylon had approached them in complete silence, with surprising speed and agility it had grabbed Cavil by the throat and pulled him close. “Your disruption and attempts to sow the seeds of rebellion will not be allowed to continue.” Cavil's eyes widened in horror, his voice unable to be heard as the still-beating cybernetic heart is held in the talons of Lucifer's free hand. He drops both to the ground and turns to face a horrified Simon. Instead of one eye rotating left to right in the V-shaped visor of a Centurion, Lucifer had two eyes, similar in proportion to the eyes of humans, a similar red light flashed back and forth. Seconds pass in silence as the taloned fingers retract and a double-barreled projectile weapon appears.
“Stand down, Lucifer.” Came the voice of Leoben. His steel gray eyes peering down at the lifeless Cavil, a pool of blood forming beneath his crumpled body. “I believe I have made my position on rebellion clear, Simon. Will there be a problem between us?”
“None Leoben. Cavil obviously had become defective and actions warranted his deactivation.” said Simon, obviously not wishing to join him in a bloody heap on the deck.
“Cavil had speculated that I was establishing myself to be a…'Imperious Leader' I believe the term to be. He is partially correct; the collective process is not yielding satisfactory results on the human problem. I plan to rectify that by assuming control of the Basestar. Do you have any objections?” asked a smiling Leoben, Lucifer hovering ominously above Simon.
“I'm a scientist, Leoben. I have no such objections.”
“Excellent my friend, please resume your duties.” Two Centurions approached, Leoben had instructed them to remove the lifeless body of Cavil. Leoben returned to the command center of the Basestar accompanied by Lucifer. There were several different human models present, noticeably absent was any Cavil series.
Leoben stopped in the center of the room and asked for everyone's attention. “As some of you may have noticed, I have decided to take a more proactive approach to locating Earth and the fugitive Colonials. As of this moment I am assuming control of the Basestar and dissolving the collective.” Surprised glances were exchanged throughout the room. “A short time ago, a Cavil series Cylon attempted to sew rebellion aboard our ship. Lucifer dealt with him permanently, and I have instructed his series to be boxed immediately.”
A Number 8 model stepped forward. “What is to become of the rest of us if you're setting yourself up as leader?”
“ Sharon there is a need and place for all of you.” said Leoben smiling. “Cavil was unwilling to think ‘outside the collective box' in order to make progress. I value all of your observations and ideas; I just believe there must be one person to put those ideas into action. The fleet is our primary concern; we cannot allow them to escape. Our future depends on their capture and extermination.” He walks over to the command console and turns to Doral. “What is the status of our Raider patrols?” Doral places both hands into the thick fluid; information is instantly transmitted to his cybernetic brain.
“There are three possibilities. Planetary bodies have been detected in each of those quadrants; we need to initiate a more thorough scan of each one of those systems in order to determine a possible route the Colonials may have taken.”
“Signal the Raiders to conduct an in-depth scan of their respective systems.”
“By your command!” said Doral, the words echoing in the command center.
“Captain Lensherr, there is a call coming in from GALACTICA down in communications.” An ensign in her mid twenties stood in the office doorway.
“Thank you ensign, I'll be there momentarily.” Lensherr turned slowly to D'Anna who was sitting across from him nursing James. “I'll be back; I've been expecting this call.”
“Your orders to return to GALACTICA perhaps?”
“Quite possible, the academy is running smoothly, and a capable staff is at its helm. We both knew I wouldn't be planet-side long.”
“I realize that, nor am I a typical military wife that dreads her husband's orders to ship out.” Replied D'Anna.
“I'm not sure how I should take that.” laughed Lensherr, as he walked out of the room, taking the short walk to the communications center. Upon entering the dimly lit room, he sat down at a console and placed a set of headphones to his ear. The familiar voice of Lee Adama's wife Dee filled the earpiece.
“Captain Lensherr, stand by for GALACTICA Actual….and congratulations on a beautiful baby boy!” she added softly.
“Thank you Dee , that's very kind of you.”
A slight clicking sound indicated that the call had been transferred to Admiral Adama, who was presently sitting in his newly installed command chair in the CIC. He leaned back; removing his glasses, he had flipped a switch on a small control pad on the left armrest. “Good afternoon Hephaestus. I trust I'm not disturbing you?” said Adama.
“As if that would matter Admiral.” Replied Lensherr half-jokingly. Admiral Adama was not one to be kept waiting for any length of time.
“Captain I have been following your progress at Groom Lake , and am extremely satisfied with what you've been able to accomplish in your time there. I've been informed that the academy is running smoothly on all thrusters, and I'm able to reclaim my strike leader from the surface before he goes soft on me. ”
“My replacements have been fully trained, and are more than capable of taking the reins. We are preparing to start the next class for basic flight.”
Adama had lowered his voice, spinning his chair to the rear of the CIC. “Look Matt, you've done an incredible job down there, and have helped turn out some excellent new pilots. I also understand that your family is now settled into the community, I cannot tell you how relieved I am that things have worked well regarding D'Anna. I am sure that the social atmosphere is much better down there, than her time here on GALACTICA.”
“Thank you sir, she has been warmly received by many of the military wives, and has constant visits from the military doctors who miss no chance to be in the presence of a hybrid human/Cylon and her offspring. We have discussed my return to GALACTICA, there will be no problems, and she understands my job fully.”
“Excellent Captain, your orders are cut, and I expect you aboard six days from now. Enjoy your leave.” Adama cut the transmission line from a small keypad on his chair arm. With the flip of another button, a cup holder popped open on the side of the chair that would house his coffee mug. There had never before been a command chair on a Colonial Battlestar much less a holder to place your cup in. An Earth Naval officer for the new Battlestar put this concept forward and when he had seen the schematics he decided that he would have one installed on GALACTICA as well. “Humph…had the commanders had their own command chair and coffee holder during the holocaust maybe we wouldn't have ran” said Adama to himself, wondering why it took someone from Earth to come up with what should have been done a long time ago. He shook his head at the thought of such a flippant remark directed at the single biggest crime in the universe.
“Thank you, sir.” With that, the transmission was severed, and Lensherr returned to his office. D'Anna had just finished nursing the baby and was closing her blouse when he entered. “Come on, I'm taking the day off, and we're going out for the day.” He took the baby from her arms and placed him in his car seat, which would be secured in the back of his military-issued humvee. Driving licenses were waived for the Colonial Military, and automobiles curiously were one of the few similarities shared between Earth and the Colonies.
“Where are we going?” asked D'Anna.
“Sight-seeing and an early dinner, my orders have been cut and I return to GALACTICA in six days. So I have six days to have you all to myself…and I do mean to ‘have you!” smiled Lensherr suggestively.
“You are a sexually-driven Fraker, aren't you mighty Hephaestus?”
Aboard Terra-1 Tigh continues to oversee every aspect of the shakedown cruise. Executive officer Patton also remains on duty, the Marine in him needing to be intimately familiar with every aspect of his command.
“Lieutenant Digit, have all sections reported their numbers yet?” asked Tigh standing behind the tactical station. Lieutenant Antonio Digit was the tactical officer aboard the new Battlestar. His knowledge of computer systems was unequaled in the fleet, though he was beginning to appreciate the potential geniuses from Earth. They had developed some incredibly complex systems for a civilization that was technologically inferior to the Colonies.
“Negative sir, we're still waiting on the air wings that are not scheduled to run their tests yet, and the weapons line.”
“I want them as soon as possible Lieutenant, we'll be making the jump to Saturn soon, and I want them ready to run the weapons tests immediately after securing from the jump.” Ordered Tigh.
All was proceeding well for the newest Battlestar, from lift off to escaping Earth's gravitational field without any significant malfunction or system failures. Tigh was pleased with his new command, and the thought of reestablishing the fleet was filling him with purpose and pride, just as it did Adama.
Elyssa DeAlma stopped at the door to Mark Sarnex's cabin and knocked. Sarnex got up from the small desk attached to the far bulkhead and opened the door. “Poseidon, what do I owe the pleasure?'
DeAlma stepped into the room, brushing lightly up against Sarnex's chest. Smiling, she stood less than two feet from him as he closed the cabin door. “Where is your bunkmate, Mark?”
“Captain Dillon Ramsey will be sharing the cabin, have you met him yet?” Sarnex was feeling slightly crowded, DeAlma was an attractive woman who was normally quite flirtatious. Her uniform blouse purposely unbuttoned, and the unmistakable scent of perfume surrounding her. She moved in closer, placing her hand on his chest, using her fingers to trace the seams.
“All I care is if young Captain Ramsey will be away for the next hour or two.” Said DeAlma seductively. “We have a quiet moment alone on a Battlestar that isn't reeking of stale air and tylium, and a cabin that holds a very comfortable bunk.”
Sarnex backed away abruptly, startling DeAlma. “Elyssa…I'm not sure what you're thinking, but you're under my command, and I don't make it a policy of getting involved with subordinates.”
DeAlma's eyes narrowed as her arms folded across her chest. “Not too long ago you were just a lowly lieutenant who couldn't keep his attentions away from me. What are you afraid of Nightstalker?”
“Well for starters, when we were aboard GALACTICA we weren't assigned to the same squadron, and I didn't fall under your command. I am squadron leader, and you are assigned to my squadron. Not only would that be inappropriate, but against regulations.”
She moved closer, a thin smile forming at her lips. “Well who gives a Frak, and who would know? You know full well you want to get into my pants, and I want to get into yours!” She reached out to touch his face, a hand shot up quickly swatting it aside.
“Captain, the one thing I take seriously is my responsibilities as an officer, and a squadron leader. The last thing I am going to jeopardize either for is an oversexed piece of ass! If you thought otherwise you made a serious error in judgment.” A wave of anger flooded over DeAlma as she took a swing at Sarnex, the slap stopped mid swing as he grabbed her wrist forcefully. “Make no mistake Elyssa; I'm not to be Fraked with! I have been given a tremendous opportunity, and I am not going to allow you or anyone else to screw it up. If you have a problem with this we can arrange a transfer to another squadron.” The last thing Elyssa DeAlma would allow is to be run off her squadron, especially by someone like Sarnex. She would bide her time, but would not forget this slight.
“It would seem that Hephaestus taught you well, Mark. I did misjudge you, but know this…I am not to be Fraked with either, nor will you or anyone else ever chase me off this squadron. You are making a mistake; I am not like the rest of the ditzy females that you and the rest of these reprobates chase after with a ‘hard-on' as the Earth term goes. My star is rising, and it would be in your best interests to be in my favor!” With that, Elyssa DeAlma turned on her heel and exited the cabin. Sarnex bolted the door shut and sat down on the edge of his bunk.
“What the Frak was that all about!”
“Ten seconds to jump.” said Lieutenant Digit inserting the key into the FTL drive. Tigh's stomach knotted up, he had made hundreds of faster-than-light jumps on numerous Battlestars, but this was the first time for an Earth-constructed Battlestar. This jump would show how well the Earth engineers did their jobs. Colonel Patton stood behind Digit, this was his first jump and whatever bout of nervousness he may have had was hidden well behind the expressionless mask of his face. At the count of zero, Digit turned the key counter clockwise. Terra-1 disappeared in a flash.
Roughly 762,700,000 miles away a lone Battlestar materialized not far from the planet Saturn, she cruised majestically as the most important and dangerous test was successfully accomplished. Terra-1 had completed a faster-than-light space jump from Earth to Saturn without blowing itself to pieces, or materializing within Saturn's ice rings, or the gaseous planet itself. Lieutenant Antonio Digit breathed a sigh of relief as a firm hand came down on his shoulder. Looking up he saw Colonel Patton with a broad smile on his face. “Outstanding work Lieutenant…that was absolutely amazing. Nothing this old Marine ever dreamed he'd do in this or any lifetime.” He turned towards a very pleased looking Colonel. “Jump number one for the Battlestar Terra-1 successfully initiated, sir. All sections report condition green.” A round of applause swept the CIC, and Saul Tigh stepped down to the tactical station to shake hands with his executive officer, and Lt. Digit who plotted the successful jump.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this was an outstanding jump, and bodes well for the remainder of the shakedown cruise. I commend you all.” Tigh sat down and retrieved his hot steaming mug of Cancerian Roast. “Colonel, you may start the weapons testing when ready.”
“Helm, bring us within range of the outer rings. Tactical I want you to find me the biggest chunk of space rock out there and lock in a firing solution for the forward-firing bow batteries.” The ship's engines propelled the massive warship towards Saturn; its ring system divided into 7 major divisions with alphabetic designators in the order of discovery. From the innermost ring to the outermost ring the designators are D, C, B, A, F, G and E. Each major division is further subdivided into thousands of individual ringlets. The ring found to have the largest particles was the G-ring.
Antonio Digit had located a large fragment of ice and rock that measured a quarter of a kilometer in length within the G-ring. The ship's computer had locked the firing solution awaiting orders to fire. “Target acquired and coordinates locked, XO.”
“Four round burst lieutenant…execute!” Four successive bursts erupted from the bow of the ship's main batteries. The projectiles had found their moving target and obliterated it. Next up was the point defense turrets situated on the sides of each flight pod. The helmsman brought the port side of the ship alongside the outer rings and fired a thirty- second round. The entire system is tasked with destroying incoming projectiles or fighters, and the half-minute burst laid waste to the frozen space debris, making small chunks vastly smaller. The procedure was repeated on the starboard side and for the turrets positioned on the underbelly of the Battlestar. Terra-1 may not have been as large as GALACTICA, but she was armed to the teeth and her size made her highly maneuverable.
“Colonel Patton, I believe this would be an appropriate time to test for action stations response!” said Tigh, pulling out a silver-colored digital stopwatch.
“I couldn't agree more, sir. Tactical sound action stations immediately!”
Mark Sarnex had just placed his lunch down onto the table, he was starved and was looking forward to today's chow of Chicken and assorted vegetables. His mind was still swimming over his earlier confrontation with Poseidon when the klaxon sounded.
“ACTION STATIONS…ACTION STATIONS; all personnel man your combat stations. Simulated incoming Cylon Raiders.” Came the voice of Antonio Digit over the loud speakers. Personnel flew from their tables and headed for their assigned action station. Mark Sarnex grabbed the hot chicken and two slices of bread off his plate and ran down the hallway making a sandwich. By the time he entered the launch bay he was wiping the remains of his sandwich off his face with his sleeve. As he hopped up into the cockpit the specialist assigned as deck hand to his Viper handed him his helmet. “Looks like poor timing sir.” Said the specialist handing Sarnex a rag from his pocket to wipe the remaining chicken off his chin.
“That it was specialist, thanks for the oil soaked rag.” said Sarnex regretting instantly that he used it to wipe his mouth. Sealing his canopy shut, he fired up the Voram engines that instantly came to life with a loud high-pitched whine. Red Lancer squadron was scheduled to be on standby this tour, and was first down the tubes. At the other end of the flight pod, three Raptor engines came to life.
The Viper hurtled down the launch tube into the darkness of space, banking into a port side roll Sarnex soon had an incredible view of Saturn and waited on station for the rest of his squadron to clear Terra-1. Within five minutes of action stations every Viper and assigned Raptor were launched. Each squadron leader signaled LT. Digit when all wings were accounted for on station.
“All squadrons launched, XO,” reported Digit. Tigh hit a button on the stopwatch freezing the exact time. Five minutes, 17 seconds…not too bad for a raw crew on their first action stations drill thought Tigh. Of course having only a third of the flight compliment a full sized Battlestar would normally have helps with having an expedient launch.
Departments on every deck signaled “at action stations” one by one, Lt. Digit called off each section as they reported in and Tigh kept an eye on his stopwatch. He was pleased with the times, but handing out high praise too early leads to complacency, and there was no room for that in Tigh's command. “Executive Officer, I do believe there is room for improvement in this ship's readiness for action stations!”
“I agree fully Colonel!” barked Patton who spun on his heels in crisp Marine fashion. “Lieutenant Digit, response time to action stations does not meet the Commander's or my satisfaction. We will repeat the drill within the next 6 hours, and I want every swinging dick reporting ready for action stations in less than two minutes!”
“Sir?” asked Digit perplexed. He had become familiar with Earth military slang, but “swinging dick” was a new one. Patton had realized that his description had been lost on the young tactical officer.
“Crewmen Lieutenant…CREWMEN!” he yelled loudly as Digit winced. “Let's get this ship ready to kick Cylon ass and take names.” He followed it up with a wink and a slight smile unseen by anyone else. Digit knew that the times were not bad at all, but the game must be played, and he was sure it was no different in any of Earth's former militaries. He suppressed a chuckle and ordered each station to stand down and resume normal duties. The call for action stations would eventually be called again.
On Earth, Matt Lensherr was saying goodbye to his wife and child. His leave was just about over and he had to return to GALACTICA, and his squadron. D'Anna held their son, she felt sad at her husband's departure. Human emotions were coming much easier than when she had been aboard GALACTICA. Out in space she was a constant reminder as to why the Colonials were on the run, and she was vilified, ignored, feared or mildly tolerated for her well-liked husband's sake.
“Is this what I have to look forward to, seeing my husband off at noisy airfields?” asked D'Anna with an exaggerated air of sadness to her.
“That depends on whether or not you'd care to return to GALACTICA?” came the reply.
“Well even if that was possible now, I don't foresee myself giving up blue skies and a chance at a normal life for our son. Seriously though Matthew, come back safe and in one piece…I love you!” The two had exchanged a long kiss, and Lensherr held his son tightly. “Daddy loves you and will be back, I promise.” D'Anna returned to the Humvee that was parked in the designated pilot's parking area. After strapping the car seat into the back, she waited to watch Lensherr's Viper take off. A feeling of dread came over her as she watched her husband climb up into the cockpit.
Prometheus, Lancelot and Aslan who were scheduled to return to GALACTICA from leave would join Lensherr. The four vipers were cleared for launch, and they taxied to their assigned runway.
Lensherr glanced over to the viper on his left and gave thumbs up. “Ready gentlemen?”
“Age before beauty, skipper!” quipped Lancelot as he made a final adjustment to his seat harness.
With a roll of his eyes, and a newly learned Earth hand gesture towards his wingman Lensherr released his brake and accelerated down the runway. The powerful voram engines lifted the Viper off the tarmac and into the clear blue skies of Nevada . Four recently constructed Colonial Vipers accelerated to escape velocity and made their way for the cold, dark emptiness of space. Their destination was an aging Battlestar stationed high above Earth's moon. Compared to Terra-1, the GALACTICA was a dinosaur…but one that still packed a serious punch. Progress was being made across the spectrum within the new Earth Defense Command. Former enemies now worked hand in hand, though not without some difficulties that has proven stubborn to fully eradicate. A second Mercury class Battlestar was well under construction, with plans being developed for a hybrid Battlestar/Space Carrier that would house over 400 Vipers and Raptors. However, this hybrid carrier was nowhere near finished in design, and further away in its actual construction debut. Orbiting platforms were being built in stages around the world, soon to be deployed in Earth orbit, and points beyond as a matter of self-defense in the absence of Battlestars. These platforms could be built far faster and cheaper than a Mercury class Battlestar, and they required no personnel to operate it. These platforms would be operated remotely from Earth Defense Command.
Aslan and Lancelot flanked Hephaestus with Prometheus bringing up the rear. Within a half hour, the GALACTICA came into view. Dee looked up from her screen towards her husband Apollo. “XO I have four Vipers on approach from EDC, transponders correctly identify Hephaestus, Aslan, Prometheus and Lancelot.” Apollo stood up from the command chair and walked over to tactical.
“Clear them for landing in the port landing bay, Captain.” Dee had taken a rank reduction after the destruction of the PEGASUS and subsequent return to GALACTICA.
“Hephaestus this is GALACTICA, your flight cleared for hands-on approach…proceed to port landing bay.”
“Port landing bay…hands-on approach, Hephaestus has the ball.” Years of experience had made utilizing maneuvering thrusters on an approach almost second nature to Matt Lensherr. Gliding majestically through the immense portal, the sleek viper touched down gently on its assigned platform where magnetic locks held it firm and descended to the hanger bay. The three remaining vipers followed suit without incident.
Once in the hanger bay, a set of stairs were placed against the nose of the viper. Sliding the canopy forward, Lensherr released his seat harness and unfastened the clamps holding his helmet secure. A deck hand removed the helmet gingerly. Lieutenant Steve Parsec was sitting in the neighboring viper doing a preflight check when Lensherr dismounted.
“Welcome back skipper!”
“You scheduled for patrol, Photon?” asked Lensherr. The answer was in the affirmative and Lensherr departed the hanger bay to return to a cabin he had not seen in close to a year. The trip from the hanger bay to the GALACTICA's brig was much farther than the trip to where the pilots were usually housed. With D'Anna and James now living on Earth, Lensherr would start to remove their remaining items out of the brig/private cabin and to his yet-to-be assigned quarters. First stop would be to report in to the CAG who was off duty and going over some technical manuals in his quarters.
“Captain Lensherr reporting for duty!” said Lensherr walking into the open door of Captain Kara Thrace's quarters.
“Ah, Hephaestus…glad you're finally here. Hope you Fraking enjoyed your vacation on Earth and are ready for some real work!” Lensherr sat down in the chair opposite Starbuck and put his left leg up on the corner of the bunk. He took a package from his flight bag and tossed it over to the CAG. It contained a small rectangular box of premium cigars. “Thanks Hephaestus, I owe you!”
“New quarters will do Kara, I think the old man wants his brig back, and I no longer have need of such spacious accommodations.”
“I can put you in with Hotdog or Hannibal; otherwise I'll have to make some reassignments.”
“No, don't do that…Put me in with Hotdog. No need to upset already assigned berthing on my account.”
“Done! Now get the frak out of here, being CAG comes with its own laundry list of felgercarb to deal with.”