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 18
FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:
The year is 2012, and it has been just under two years since our last contact with the Cylons. Since then Earth has experienced peace and a startling transformation amongst the populous. Space exploration has proceeded at an amazing pace, and the lost thirteenth colony of Kobol has taken to the stars with an amazing hunger for a knowledge that the twelve colonies have long taken for granted. Two former ships in the fleet have been converted into scientific research vessels that have been tasked with research within the solar system, and a third ship has been reassigned as a luxury liner that for a price allows the citizens of Earth to view the planets up close.
On a military front, the latest Battlestar has entered service. The Battlestar Polaris is the latest Earth Defense Force achievement. A little over six thousand feet in length, the Polaris is much larger than GALACTICA. Like most Battlestars, the Polaris is a hybrid of carrier and battleship, but her air wing compliment is that of more than three Battlestars consisting of four hundred Mark II and Mark VII vipers that have recently been put in production. In the two years, that the Earth pilots have flown the Mark II it has been decided to advance to the Mark VII in small increments. Countries once antagonistic to each other have become friends, and extreme hunger and poverty is close to being completely eradicated on the planet thanks to the tireless efforts of former Colonial President Laura Roslin's taskforce comprised of skilled specialists from Earth and the Colonies. Earth's future is amazingly bright, and her defense forces strengthen to a razor's edge. While the EDF pales in comparison to the Colonial armed forces prior to the Holocaust, it is making awe-inspiring progress under the circumstances of Earth's level of technological advancement that continues to grow exponentially under our advocacy.
Twenty-two months ago, we last encountered the Cylons, and one of their own brought about their defeat. D'Anna Biers, the third model created out of a reported twelve models of humanoid Cylons. With the help of Earth scientists, D'Anna was able to replicate a virus that would wreak havoc upon Cylon physiology, both humanoid and the cybernetic versions. We have no idea if the affected Cylons were able to download to new bodies, but the fact that no Cylon presence has been detected in those twenty-two months leaves me to believe that they were unable to.
D'Anna is now pregnant with her second child fathered by Captain Matthew Lensherr, former Silver Spar squadron leader aboard GALACTICA. Captain Lensherr's current assignment is at the EDF Military Academy . These hybrid children will certainly face scrutiny throughout their lives, and their future will most definitely be of great interest to humanity.
Major Nina Nintius slowly opened her eyes, her auburn hair slightly obstructing her view of the clock. 0620 hours and she was still incredibly tired, she instantly regretted the late night in the officer's lounge playing pyramid. Her eyes still bloodshot, the smell of cigars clinging to her like a second skin. Propping herself up on her elbow she glanced over at the sleeping man in her bed. Falcon was snoring up a storm; she suppressed a chuckle and ran her long fingernails gently across his chest. Captain Tony Bastain's eyelids snapped open as he bolted upright, his hand like an iron vise around his new wife's wrist.
“Lighten up on the grip stud; I need that hand to fly a raptor.” Said Nina as she peeled his hand off her wrists, if she was in pain she showed no evidence of it. The muscular squadron leader of Hunter Seeker squadron released his grip and apologized. He was not yet accustomed to sharing a bed.
“That was some night; I think I drank way too much.” Said Falcon holding his head in his hands. Nina slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of uniform pants.
“Yeah stud you did, but the thankfully I maintained a clear and sober head. I was able to clean out Hotdog and Photon of at least a week's pay.” Replied Nina as she gathered her toiletry bag to take the short walk to the pilot's locker room for a shower.
“What's your rush, Nina?” asked Falcon now wiping the sleep from his bloodshot eyes.
“I need to get my ship prepped for a hop over to the Polaris. The old man wants to meet with her commander.” Replied Nina. Falcon's brow furrowed as if deep in thought.
“I'm surprised that they put an Earth officer in command of the Polaris over a Colonial officer.”
Annoyed at one more interruption of her journey out the door Nina spun around and answered. “There are no Colonial officers love, we're all one big tribe again…we're all ‘Earthers' now. Besides, the executive officer was captain of the Rising Star…he does have space experience you know.”
“I guess I was expecting someone from GALACTICA to get command.” Nina threw open the hatch and stepped outside, a hot shower was what she needed. Taking the short walk to the pilot's latrine, she was surprised to find Lt. Costanza within stripping down to enter one of the shower stalls. Latrines aboard Battlestars were much different from latrines aboard the former Navy vessels of Earth militaries. The sea-faring vessels had separate showering facilities whereas the Colonial military's were gender neutral. Male and female showering in the same room never seemed odd until new crew members from earth were assigned aboard.
“Good morning Hotdog.” Said Nina cheerfully as she dropped her bag on the steel bench. Hotdog stood fully naked before her, and was obviously quite hung over from the night before.
“Ah the pyramid demoness has arrived, nice game last night…well played.” He grunted as he reached for a bottle of shampoo. Nina kicked off her pants and underwear and stepped into the stall next to him.
“You know Hotdog a little less Sam Adams at the start of the game may keep your mind focused.” Laughed Nina as she lathered up her well taut abdomen.
“Frak that Earth beer, not that I don't appreciate the near-infinite selections, but they sure are a far cry from the beer brewed on Libris!” sniffed Costanza expecting some new pilots today, why does it seem that Silver Spar squadron is always taking in the nuggets? This would not happen under Lensherr…ole Matt would have itched up a storm. Perhaps a word with the CAG is in order.”
“I'm sure Starbuck is aware of the assignments for the nuggets. Have you ever considered that they're getting sent your way for a reason?”
“Yeah…I believe that Starbuck is still Fraking pissed off that I cleaned her out of a month's pay not too long ago. This is her revenge! No matter though, Silver Spar is the best damned viper squadron in the fleet, I'll turn these nuggets into Gods-damned fanatics!”
“I know of a couple of other squadron leaders that might disagree with you.” Replied Nintius playfully.
“Frak them too, they can smoke my joystick!” laughed Hotdog as he finished his shower. Nintius rolled her eyes and finished getting ready. She had to get her ship prepped for launch, and the old man did not tolerate tardiness from any of his pilots, especially Nina Nintius.
Twenty-two months earlier…
The thick opaque fluid bubbles and churns like a maelstrom. The body forces itself to the surface, gasping for air, a look of confusion upon his face. The rebirthing facility holds many tanks, only one is active, and only one is surrounded. He coughs, expelling the liquid from his throat and mouth. The words are barely audible; “Beware…virus.”
Starboard flight pod; Battlestar GALACTICA Present day.
“Shooter this is Raptor 1, requesting permission to launch.”
“Raptor 1 this is Shooter, you are cleared for launch.” Major Nina Nintius-Bastain gently maneuvered her raptor off the deck and made her way down the length of the flight pod into space. Clearing the Battlestar, she set off on her preprogrammed course heading. Two vipers coming alongside immediately caught her attention.
“Betty this is Falcon, Blackjack and I will be your escort to the Polaris.” Falcon, a native of Aquaria, he lost his first wife and two daughters in the Cylon attack. His hatred for anything Cylon was absolute, and great effort was made to avoid Captain Matt Lensherr's Cylon wife, the beautiful D'Anna Biers. While he's accepted the fact that she has broken her allegiance to her race and if not for her they would most likely not have reached Earth, or defeated Leoben those two short years ago, still he recoils in her presence. Time does not necessarily heal all wounds.
“Falcon this is Betty…message received, glad to have you along. GALACTICA actual has directed me to inform you that he requests your presence aboard Polaris as well.”
“Roger that, Raptor 1.” Replied Falcon.
Nina glanced over to Adama who was sitting in the co pilot's seat. He was in his dress grays and looked immaculate in his ribbons and medals. She had come to think of him as a father figure, the two have been through so much since the destruction of the Colonies, and the bond they cemented in that Basestar control room would never be broken. Bonds made in combat were to be expected, bonds formed in close-quarters combat could not be shattered. Nintius was highly proficient in several forms of combat, and the fighting technique displayed by the old man that day impressed her greatly. What she would have given to be assigned to this man in his prime.
After two hours, the journey was soon ending. The three ships from GALACTICA were entering Dradis range of Earth Defense Command's newest Battlestar…the Polaris. At 6,200 feet long, Polaris was the biggest combat vessel ever built by the Colonies or Earth. It was larger than GALACTICA, and was just as heavily armed. Her primary purpose was to project a lethal viper force, her compliment of Mark II and Mark VII exceeding the combined might of three full-sized Battlestars. A Dradis warning sounded, Nina quickly glanced at her screens.
“Admiral I have four Dradis contacts broadcasting EDF transponders.” Informed Nintius.
“That would be the CAP for the Polaris.” Replied Adama. Four black Mark II vipers with white trim slowly entered their flight path. Nintius switched on her transmitter.
“This is GALACTICA Raptor 1 requesting approach to the Battlestar Polaris.”
“GALACTICA Raptor 1-Polaris, you are cleared for approach on upper port landing bay. On behalf of Polaris Actual we would like to welcome you aboard.” The four vipers from Polaris formed up with the three ships from GALACTICA forming a diamond around them leading them in. Adama had seen the designs many times, in fact, he had made significant recommendations to the plans, but seeing the finished product in person from the large windscreen of a raptor made his heart race.
“My Gods what a menacing looking instrument of death!” he muttered in admiration. Upon final approach, the four vipers from Polaris broke off and resumed their patrol. Nintius set the 50-ton raptor down light as a feather, the two viper escorts from Blue squadron touched down immediately after her.
After being lowered into the hanger bay, the raptor was taxied to a parking space where Polaris' hanger crew attached refueling hoses to the tank fill. Similar action was taken with the two vipers as the pilots climbed down from their cockpits. An honor guard was stationed to the side of the hanger, and Commander Marcus Vasquez formerly a Lieutenant Colonel in Spain 's Army stood between the EDF flag and the Polaris insignia mounted on a
light blue flag. Admiral Adama stepped forward and saluted as a high-pitched whistle sounded indicating the arrival of a flag officer.
“Commander Vasquez, permission to come aboard.” said Adama.
“Permission granted Admiral, and welcome aboard!” replied Vasquez. Adama extended his hand, and a firm handshake was exchanged between the two men.
“If the interior is as impressive and intimidating as the exterior than I predict that I will be in for a pleasant inspection Commander.” Said the Admiral now turning towards his three junior officers at his side. “Commander may I introduce my senior raptor pilot, Major Nina Nintius-Bastain, Major Tony Bastain and Lieutenant Darius Malik of Blue squadron.
“Welcome aboard the Polaris, please follow me and I'll give you a tour of Earth's newest Battlestar. Of course it will be an abbreviated tour, unless of course you want to spend two days touring every deck and compartment.” Said Vasquez. Walking across the immaculate hanger bay, Falcon stared in approval at the neat row of jet-black colored vipers with white striping. There were no battle scarring or chipped paint; these vipers were fresh from the assembly line on Earth. The majority of pilots aboard Polaris were new, recently graduated from the academy led by former Silver Spar squadron leader Matthew Lensherr who now was assigned to Earth to run the viper school at Groom Lake in Nevada . His home was GALACTICA, but he wondered what life would be like assigned to the Polaris. The ship was gargantuan in size, four flight pods as opposed to two. She was heavily armed, and her fighter wings provided devastating aerial firepower. Roughly 2,000 feet longer than GALACTICA, she was the largest warship ever built by the Colonies or Earth.
Captain Matthew Lensherr sat at his desk, a stack of folders sat neatly piled to his left, an open personnel folder sat open before him. It was a proficiency report for one flight cadet Kelly Rasputin, a 24-year-old recruit who showed intense promise. Three quarters of the way through her training and she remained his number one student. She was extremely intelligent, comfortable in the cockpit of the training viper, and was very thorough and methodical in most aspects of her training. He was instantly reminded of himself as a cadet at the Colonial Military Academy a little over dozen years earlier. He too was top of his class, and extremely methodical as well, almost too methodical was the concern of some flight instructors. She was demonstrating similar traits that he possessed, and he wondered if he should council her about it or letting it play through, after all…he rose through the ranks and became one of the youngest squadron leaders in Colonial history. Of course had most of the senior pilots not been killed off in the months following the Cylon's sneak attack on the Colonies he might not have risen as fast as he did. Closing her folder, he leaned back, closed his eyes and remembered.
“Viper 271 to Triton requesting emergency approach!”
“Triton to Viper 271, you are cleared for emergency approach to the starboard landing bay, call the ball!”
“Viper 271 has the ball, speed 2.5 bingo fuel.” Gripping the controls, Lieutenant junior grade Matthew Lensherr fought to maintain control of his Mark VI viper. System failure warnings sounded loudly, but he was able to block their sound out while acknowledging the severity of the situation. Matt Lensherr had only been assigned to the Battlestar Triton for three months, he graduated top of his class and as a reward was given his choice of assignment. He immediately opted for Battlestar Group 39, a group well reputed for its exceptional viper pilots and command staff. The Triton was under command of Commander James Jonasson.
Twenty minutes earlier.
Starting on a training exercise amongst Green squadron landed him in the predicament he currently finds himself. A missile run on remote drones was supposed to be routine, but the guidance system on an air-to-air missiles locked onto his viper instead of the remote drone. Kicking in the battle thrusters Matthew Lensherr attempted to outrace the incoming missiles, his viper was not loaded with counter measures known as swallows. He knew this to be futile; the missiles would overtake him in mere moments. Dradis sweep indicated an asteroid field close by and Lensherr steered his viper toward it at full speed.
“Krypter, krypter, krypter...viper 271 declaring an emergency. I have a training missile locked onto my ship, attempting to evade.”
Green squadron's leader reacted immediately. “Green leader to all wings, terminate training exercise immediately…all ships return to Triton. “Green leader to Hephaestus…you have to be prepared to eject, without swallows to deploy you have little chances of outrunning the missile, copy.”
“Green leader, Hephaestus…message received. I have an asteroid field on my Dradis and will attempt to lose it in there.” The missile was gaining, and the asteroid field was just ahead now. Lensherr pushed hard against the thruster pedal, he felt like he would push it through the firewall.
On board Triton, the Junior Officer Of the Deck summoned the executive officer and commanding officer to the CIC.
“Sitrep, Lieutenant!” barked the XO.
“Viper 271 has declared an emergency sir, during the training exercise a missile locked onto his viper instead of the decoy drone.” Reported the JOOD.
“Viper 271 isn't that the new pilot…Lensherr?” asked the XO.
“Affirmative XO, the squadron leader terminated the exercise and ordered all vipers to land. He's attempting to intercept the missile, but he's too far off and Hephaestus is attempting to lose the missile in the asteroid field.”
“Are you Fraking kidding me? That rookie pilot is going to try and navigate an asteroid field…order him to punch out!”
“Hephaestus, Triton…you are instructed to eject immediately! Repeat…eject immediately!”
“Triton, Hephaestus…I'm already within the field, unable to safely eject.” Replied Hephaestus coolly. The missile was almost on him, and Lensherr banked his fighter hard to stay close to the much larger asteroids hoping to have the missile strike it. This was risky flying for extremely seasoned veterans, never mind a new pilot. Oddly though, Lensherr did not feel panicked, he knew what he had to do and knew what the outcome would be if he failed.
Commander Jonasson was now entering the CIC. “Commander has the deck…what's happening XO?”
“Rookie pilot declared an emergency, the missile in their training exercise locked onto his viper instead of the decoy drone. Currently he's attempting to lose it in the asteroid field.”
“Does the squadron leader have a visual on him?” asked the XO to the JOOD.
“Patch me in with the squadron leader.” ordered Jonasson.
“Green Leader, Triton…stand by for Triton Actual.”
“Go ahead Actual!”
‘What's going on out there, Captain?”
“Air-to-air missile locked onto one of my pilots during the exercise, sir. He's trying to lose it in the asteroid field…holy Frak this kid is going through the asteroid belt at his top speed, I've never seen anything like it!”
Lensherr split his concentration between the asteroids before him and the missile behind him. Dradis was next to useless due to the debris field. He kept glancing back hoping to get mark one eyeballs on the incoming missile. Matthew Lensherr was flying flawlessly in an environment that was lethal at the speeds he was traveling. He remained absolutely calm, yet alert; a trait that has served him well throughout his life. The newer Mark VII's would soon replace the Mark VI viper he was flying; it had been rumored to be the pinnacle of colonial achievement in avionics. He hoped he would be around to fly one. Two large asteroids at ten o'clock high, it was perfect. Pulling back hard and to the left he aimed his viper for the dead center of both, he would only have one shot at this, the missile was about to crawl up his engines. He roared through the massive rocks, the bottom of his wings scraping against them loudly. The missile impacted against side of the smaller asteroid, the explosion resulted in a tremendous amount of turbulence, a 12 inch piece of jagged metal shrapnel tore a large hole in the fuel tank, it was nothing short of miraculous that an explosion didn't result from it.
The blinding flash temporarily blinded the squadron leader as he desperately attempted to scan the debris field. Dradis was useless, and he could not pick up a Colonial transponder.
“Hephaestus, green leader…come in!”
“Green leader, Hephaestus…I'm okay, my viper is still intact. I'm reading a fuel leak, possibly a result of the detonation; I'm clearing the asteroid field now.”
“I'm on your wing rookie, let's get back to Triton.”
Presently…
“Viper 271 has the ball, speed 2.5 bingo fuel. Be advised I have numerous system failures across the board.” Reported Lensherr, no trace of panic in his voice. Something that did not go unnoticed by Jonasson.
“Captain Lensherr…you wanted to see me sir?” came a distant voice. Lensherr's eyes snapped open, his trip down memory lane interrupted. He sat up straight.
“Ah, Cadet Rasputin, come in.” The young woman stepped into the room and stood at attention before Lensherr. “Stand at ease Cadet!” Kelly Rasputin went to parade rest and looked straight ahead. Lensherr flipped through the sheets of paper slowly in the folder that was marker with her name. “Cadet Rasputin…I've been going through your records and I have to say that I am very impressed by your performance in the classroom, flight simulators, and actual flight time in the training viper. You stand at the top of your class…for the moment.”
“Sir?”
Lensherr stood up and walked around to the front of the desk, leaning against the corner he folded his arms across his chest and leveled his gaze at her. “Kelly, you have an incredible knack for the stick, one of the few nuggets I've come across that immediately displayed promise. That being said,” he paused to sigh. “There are times when textbook flying and a cold, methodical approach to combat will get you killed. You cannot outthink, or ‘out cold' a Cylon in combat. There will be times when you have to think outside the box, fly by the seat of your pants, and basically just say Frak it and throw caution to the wind to survive.”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Lensherr nodded and she looked directly into his eyes. “Sir, this isn't at all what I expected to hear from the academy's top gun, your reputation for precision flying is well known.”
“Precision flying is one thing Cadet, trying to keep your aircraft intact and yourself alive in combat is something entirely different. I can think of a dozen pilots better than I, though even that number may be a tad high.” He laughed. Her blank stare was evidence enough that the joke went over her head. “Kelly…I'm a damned good combat pilot, I have well over 200 raider kills since the attack on the Colonies. I have survived this long not just because I fly in a cold and methodical manner, but because I can switch that ‘precision' off when confronted by circumstances that manner of flying cannot counter. Adapt…improvise…conquer.” Each word stressed for effect. “Don't be afraid to let loose, you may be surprised at the outcome.”
“Aye sir.”
“Very good Cadet, you're dismissed!” said Lensherr sitting back down at his desk. Rasputin came to attention and spun on her heel exiting the room.
“Molding another future star pilot, mighty Hephaestus?” cooed a familiar voice. Lensherr looked up to see his wife stroll through the door. She was radiant in almost all circumstances; her pregnancy only seemed to intensify it, thought Lensherr.
“If I can keep just one pilot from getting blown out of the stars I'll be happy.” He replied. Standing up he walked over to her and embraced her, their lips met for a prolonged kiss. “Where is James?”
“He's with the sitter; I thought we would have a nice lunch to ourselves today.” The two drove off to a nearby restaurant on base. One of the few decent places to eat on the installation. Decades earlier, it was determined that there had to be a decent place to eat outside the chow hall for the inhabitants of this super-secret Air Force installation. Within 15 minutes, the two were arriving at Black Hole, a name found quite appropriate for a restaurant on a military installation believed to be ground zero for all things extra terrestrial. After a few minutes going over the menus, Lensherr ordered a fillet mignon with roasted potatoes, and D'Anna ordered a shrimp scampi over angel hair pasta. Matthew Lensherr loved Earth cuisine, it was far superior to most of the dishes on Aerelon, and was about even with most Caprican dishes.
“This group going through the academy is pretty impressive, D'Anna. For the first time in a long time I feel that we may actually be making real progress to rebuilding the might of the Colonies.”
“They weren't so mighty in the face of subterfuge, treason and sabotage.” Countered D'Anna between bites.
“We will never be taken that way again!” snapped Lensherr. The intensity surprised D'Anna.
“Something on your mind, Matthew?” asked D'Anna.
“No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so defensive.”
“You miss being out there, don't you?” said D'Anna gesturing upward with her beautiful green eyes. She knew he loved the challenge of molding new viper pilots, but she also knew his heart was in the seat of a viper and not a classroom.
“And if I was?”
“Matthew. You know I do not have the same ‘hang-ups' as human females regarding their spouses. I love having you home; having you close by and being a family, but I also realize that your heart is among the stars. I see you spending hours looking up at the stars out on the patio when James goes to bed.”
“The old man thought my talents were better suited to training the next generation of pilots.”
“William Adama is a good man Matthew, but he does not hold the keys to your future.” The rest of the meal was conducted in idle family chatter, but Lensherr knew his wife was right. He could not remain planet-bound forever.
CHAPTER 19
Major Tony Bastain was highly impressed with the Polaris. The ship, for all of its gargantuan size seemed to glide smoothly through the vastness of space. Compared to the noisy atmosphere of the GALACTICA the Polaris ran deathly silent. A Battlestar, by design was a cross between aircraft carrier and battleship, the Polaris was almost an entirely different concept. Four flight pods, two topside and two beneath the ship housed over four hundred fighters. It was assigned to Commander Tigh's command, and while there were not enough Battlestars to form groups, smaller warships were constructed to supply limited firepower to their assigned Battlestars. Much like destroyers of Earth's past that were assigned to carrier groups. In two years, Admiral Adama went from commanding only the GALACTICA, to having three Battlestars and close to a dozen smaller warships under his overall command. It filled him with pride and purpose to see the fleet rebuilt. Of course, it was very different from the Colonial Fleet, but this was a different fleet, built under his command and incorporated with many of his ideas. This was something that most likely would never have happened under the Colonial military. He was the senior military officer on the planet, and the officer with the most combat experience. His voice carried serious weight, his every spoken word considered a concrete command.
“Not thinking of requesting a transfer are you Tony?” asked Nina coming alongside of him.
“What…give up the opportunity to serve on a fifty year old noisy, smelly rusting warship as opposed to a fresh off the assembly line state-of-the-art Battlestar? Why the Frak would I want to do that?” laughed Bastain.
“I have to admit that it would be tempting.” Replied Nina running her hand down the wall of the long hallway they were in, inspecting for dust and impressed not to find any.
“GALACTICA is my home Nina, you don't think I could be that easily swayed by the glitz of a new Battlestar, do you?”
“You Fraking liar, I know the temptation all too well.” Laughed Nina. “GALACTICA is indeed old, smelly and obsolete compared to Terra-1 or the Excalibur, but which ship would you trust to protect you against a Cylon assault.”
Falcon just smiled, he knew she was right. The three new Battlestars had all the bells and whistles, but GALACTICA had the war wounds. In fifty years of service, she had taken a beating, and still came back for more. The ship had heart, and he doubted he would ever willingly transfer off her.
“What do you think of the new escort ships?” asked Nina.
“Well they couldn't go toe to toe with a Basestar, but they do provide for an agile platform of firepower.”
“The old man is in his glory, he finally has ‘his fleet.' After being reassigned to GALACTICA after the Valkyrie debacle, he never figured on commanding a Battlestar group. Now he is instrumental in constructing his own fleet. I doubt I could ever transfer from his command.”
The two carried on with their inspection of Polaris. Elsewhere in space, another veteran of GALACTICA sat in the cockpit of his viper gliding through space. Lt. Brandon Costanza; call sign Hotdog was piloting his Mk II viper towards Pluto, the planet that was home to Earth's newest outpost. He was protecting a convoy from Earth enroute to the outpost. The three-ship convoy was laden with perishables for the construction crews and building materials, Hotdog had relieved the viper squadron from Earth, and after a quick refuel aboard GALACTICA they had returned to their base. His detail consisted of Aslan and Prometheus.
“Hotdog, Prometheus…are we really needed to baby-sit these guys? I mean we haven't seen a Cylon for almost two years. After the virus we unleashed on their ass I doubt they'd dare show their faces again.” Inquired Lieutenant Dennis “sky” Walker over the comline.
“You know better than that Prometheus…the toasters are unpredictable. Never assume that they are down and out. Being toasters, it means they have the capacity to adapt.”
“I'm banking that these frakers don't have the balls to come back at us.” Added Aslan.
“Well let's hope you're right, but in the meantime we have to get these guys safely to Pluto. This outpost is important to EDC.” The outpost under construction on Pluto was a major undertaking. Earth Defense Command had it built as an outer listening post and military hub. There would four squadrons of Mk VII vipers assigned to it as well as a Marine detachment of roughly 100 men and women. Sensitive listening and observation equipment would be utilized and a refueling port was scheduled to be completed in eight months from now. This outpost was at the behest of Admiral Adama, and with many things military, his voice carried a weight of authority. A civilian scientific research station would also be housed on this outpost with research vessels of medium range assigned to it.
With Matthew Lensherr's assignment to Earth, Brandon Costanza was promoted to Silver Spar's squadron leader. Like Hephaestus, Hotdog was a firm believer in constant drilling. He flew as many training missions as fuel allowed. His only headache was Aslan, the very rambunctious, hotshot pilot whose recent issues was ‘getting his hands on a new MK VII viper.' GALACTICA's air wing consisted of all brand new Mk II's, and the Mk VII's just recently were going into production. The belief was to train new pilots on the user-friendly Mk II at first. There were very few Mk VII's in service, and only the most able viper pilot piloted those that remained. When Earth started to replace GALACTICA's aging air wing they utilized the specs for the Mk II but incorporated most of the Mk VII's systems with the exception of those that they deemed too complex for rookie pilots, especially those that never flew in space. However, there was a great deal of requests for the newer viper amongst the fleet's seasoned pilots, most of them being former Colonial pilots. Admiral Adama made it clear to his CAG that he would not be replacing perfectly good vipers needlessly. Colonel Tigh stressed the same to his own CAG as well.
.
Aboard GALACTICA, Major Kara Thrace call sign Starbuck sat in the officer's lounge drinking a beer. She was off duty until tomorrow evening and planned to relax. The pilot she was romantically involved with joined her, Captain Jack Hoffman call sign Hannibal . They were 2 hours into a game of pyramid, and a thick haze of smoke filled the lounge. Also at the table were Silver Spar's raptor pilot Lt. Jenna St. Lynn call sign Kraken and executive officer Colonel Lee Adama; call sign Apollo.
“Bet is to you Colonel.” Said Starbuck as she took a hard pull of her mug. Lee Adama was infamously mean when losing at cards. The smile plastered across his face was evidence that the cards were for once going his way.
With a barely detectible slur to his speech, Apollo spoke up. “I see your fifty and raise you another twenty, Kara.” Kraken threw down her hand in disgust.
“I'm out!” she muttered. Hannibal did the same, but with less annoyance. The remaining players threw in the additional twenty and Starbuck demanded that Apollo show his hand. Slowly spreading his cards out before him, he displayed a full pyramid. A surprised Starbuck let out a grunt and threw her cards into the center of the table.
“Fraking lucky bastard!” snarled Starbuck. “I guess the Gods watch out for the drunks and the mentally deficient.”
“You are indeed a surly Fraker my dear Starbuck,” laughed Apollo. “Perhaps I need to have the chow hall start spiking your dinner with some sedatives.” Kara just displayed a derogatory hand gesture in Adama's direction.
“Well I guess that just about does it for me, I'm on duty early tomorrow and need to get some rack time. Good evening to you all.” Said Apollo as he wobbled from the table and out of the lounge. Kara Thrace turned towards Hannibal and planted a long kiss on his lips.
“Well Captain, care to join me in the port side observation dome?” purred the CAG.
“Lead and I will follow, Major.” He replied. The two bailed out of the lounge and Kraken found herself alone at the table, with far less money in her pocket than she walked in with. She kicked her feet up onto the table when the hatch opened. In strolled Lancelot and Photon, two of GALACTICA's partners in perversion. She rolled her eyes wondering how much worse can her night be for her. Lancelot plunked down in the seat beside her.
“Ah…a fellow Spar in need of company, it would be my pleasure to join you.” Said Lancelot in his deep voice. His eyes were already undressing her.
“Tev, be under no illusion that I won't kick you square in the fraking balls if you keep leering at me like that!” hissed the Raptor beauty.
“Come on now Jenna…we can be friends here. For Gods sake we're fraking squadron mates.” Replied Lancelot.
“We are squadron mates, and for some reason it doesn't dawn on you that if for no other reason alone I deserve some fraking respect from you. Get it through your head…you are not getting laid by me now, or ever. Now go away.” At that point, Tev just smiled and placed his hand on her knee, but before he could utter a word, Jenna St. Lynn leaped up and landed a right cross to his jaw. “I fraking warned you…”
By this time, Helo was entering the lounge and found himself catching the reeling body of one Lt. Tev Torbeck of Silver Spar squadron. Torbeck's smile turned into a murderous scowl and he wrenched himself free and made for the offending Raptor pilot. Steve Parsec was quick to get between them.
“Let him through Photon, I've got more where that came from.” Challenged Kraken.
“Little girl it's time you learned some respect yourself.” Snapped Torbeck who was hell bent on getting his hands on her. Helo was quick to place his hands upon Torbeck's shoulders and pulled him back.
“Stand down Lieutenant!” ordered Helo. “Both of you stand down!” he repeated, now looking at Kraken. “What is wrong with you two? By the lords of Kobol, I've never seen two people who needed to get laid any more than you two. Get some fraking shore leave and grab a room together somewhere eh?” Jenna St. Lynn shot a cold gaze towards Helo who stood unfazed.
“I'd sooner sleep with a pack of daggits!” she spat and stormed out of the room.
Helo righted and overturned chair and sat down with a fresh beer. Lancelot and Photon sat down next to him. “You know Lancelot, one of these days she's going to have enough and either bring you up on formal charges or kick the absolute crap out of you.” Lancelot chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Before you get too cocky son, I'm going to be the first to tell you that if you mix it up with her, you'll win, but I guarantee you'll know you've been in a fight. She's hell on wheels as I know you know from personal experience, give it a rest before she goes the official route and you end up cooling your heels in GALACTICA's brig for a month or worse. Understand?”
“She's an uppity little thing that needs to be brought back to reality!” snorted Lancelot.
“That may or may not be the case Lieutenant, but as of this moment you will back off. She's a damned good Raptor pilot, and you and the rest of the pilots depend on her. Treat her with the respect she deserves, or you might just get me pissed off.” With that, Helo downed his beer and walked back to his quarters to go to sleep.
Lancelot turned to Photon who was lighting up a cigar. “Yo Steve, do you remember when Kraken was assigned to Silver Spar?”
“How can I forget? That had to be one of the hairiest dogfights I ever saw.” Replied Steve Parsec exhaling a mouth full of smoke. Three years earlier, almost eight months prior to Earth's discovery the GALACTICA roamed through space with her civilian fleet. The day started the same as every other day…quiet. Lieutenant Felix Gaeta was about ready to start some routine maintenance on his Dradis board when two signals appeared.
“Colonel Tigh, I have two contacts on Dradis, distance 600 km.”
“That's awfully close for my liking, set condition one throughout the ship and launch the alert vipers, notify the old man and have the fleet prepare to jump to emergency coordinates.” Ordered Tigh. Silver Spar squadron was on duty and most pilots got to their vipers within a minute. Twenty vipers under the command of Captain Matthew Lensherr took to the air and Raptor 3 was launched for airborne warning & control supporting Viper operations. At the controls sat Lieutenant junior grade Jenna St. Lynn , call sign Kraken. This was her first combat mission.
Colonel Tigh kept his eyes glued to the Dradis screen. “Lieutenant Gaeta has the contacts advanced on our location?”
“Negative sir, they are holding at 600 km. Hephaestus should have visual contact in four minutes.”
“Raptor 3-Hephaestus…are you picking up anything other than the two contacts?” Kraken glanced over to her ECO who shook his head in the negative.
“Hephaestus this is Kraken, we're just picking up those two bogies, you should have a visual on them in 90 seconds.”
Lensherr brought his viper on an intercept course for the two unidentified contacts. His assistant squadron leader was tight on his port wing. Lt. Mark Sarnex, call sign Nightstalker was Lensherr's closest friend and trusted confidant. They had faced the Cylons countless times in their two-year retreat from the Colonies, and Lensherr could not imagine entering combat without Nightstalker.
“Keep a sharp eye Nightstalker, something is wrong here, I'm trying to identify but getting low-level interference. Warbook is useless at this point.” Said Lensherr over the comline.
“I've got you covered skipper, all wings are in tight formation and paired with their wingmen. If we can just get the rookie to identify these guys we'd be all set.” Said Sarnex referring to Kraken none-to-subtly. Lensherr strained his eyes to try to pick up the spacecraft that should now be in range.
“What the Frak…Cylon raiders, two of them.” Said Lensherr to nobody in particular. “All wings, Hephaestus…two enemy fighters at eleven o'clock high, weapons free. Raptor 3 pull back to a safe distance and let us handle the raiders, inform the GALACTICA of the situation.” Ordered Lensherr as he toggled his weapons selector safety switch off.
“Only two skipper, must be a recon.”
“Well lets get them before they jump out of here and give away our location…Kraken I want you to jam all known Cylon frequencies immediately!” Kraken turned her head to relay the message to her ECO when she saw his startled look.
“Multiple Dradis contacts…It's off the Fraking scale Lieutenant, I have at least 80 contacts all around us, unmistakably Cylon attack craft.”
“Raptor 3 to Hephaestus, Cylon attack craft jumping into our immediate perimeter, I have at least 80 contacts.”
The blinding flashes and explosions buffeting his viper was a telltale sign that Silver Spar was in deep trouble, heavily outnumbered and caught flatfooted. “Kraken jump back to GALACTICA immediately and call for reinforcements…all wings engage enemy fighters and for Frak's sake stick close to your wingman!” yelled Lensherr over the coms.
“Not my kind of odds boss!” quipped Lt. Steve Parsec, call sign Photon as he banked Torpedo in perfect unison with his wingman Lancelot's viper. Pulling the trigger, he stitched a raider topside causing it to explode.
“It's never your kind of odds!” retorted Lt. Brandon Costanza, call sign Hotdog.
“Knock off the chatter ladies and stay sharp.” Said Hephaestus tersely.
Kraken had pulled back hard and to the right on her controls as the ECO spooled up the FTL drive to jump out of there. An explosion rocked the Raptor, and Jenna St. Lynn struck her head on the reinforcement band over the windscreen. A small gash opened up, and she could feel the warm trickle of blood slowly dribble down from her hairline.
“Damage report!”
“FTL's are fluctuating, do not jump…do not jump!” yelled her ECO.
“Frak!” she screamed. “Hephaestus, Raptor 3…my FTL's are offline, I can't jump away.”
“Get the hell out of here Jenna, you aren't armed and there aren't enough of us here to adequately protect you.” Ordered Lensherr. He felt badly, he knew she was a rookie on her first mission, but his squadron was getting the hell kicked out of them, she would have to use all of her training, skill and luck to survive.
Aboard the GALACTICA, long-range Dradis scan revealed the extra raiders jumping their single viper squadron. Admiral Adama was now entering the CIC and Tigh began his Sitrep. “Silver Spar squadron was launched to investigate a Dradis contact, possibly Cylon. They intercepted two raiders and almost immediately were jumped by at least four more squadrons. They're in the mother of all dog fights right now; I was just going to scramble remaining squadrons.” Said Tigh.
“Make it happen XO.” Replied Adama stepping up to the Dradis console. “Admiral has the deck! Lieutenant Gaeta has the fleet captains signaled ready to jump to emergency coordinates?”
“Yes sir, all ships signal green and are standing by to jump.”
“Order them to jump to emergency coordinates by sequence, the Rising Star and Stryker are armed and will maintain fleet protection until we arrive on station.” Ordered Adama. Blue squadron cleared the GALACTICA and was traveling on full turbos to assist the heavily outnumbered Silver Spar squadron.
Photon had taken out six raiders in under two minutes; he and his wingman Lancelot were feeling particularly aggressive and fought with an intensity reserved for those that understood that one slip up against these kinds of odds meant certain death. Lt. Steve Parsec stole glances around his cockpit window at the battle going on around him. The deadly cannon fire seemed to form a mesmerizing latticework of deadly light. He was jolted back to reality when a viper exploded off his port side.
“We just lost Slaughterhouse.” Yelled Lancelot over the comline. “Where the Frak is Blue squadron, we're getting our asses handed to us out here?” Hearing the exchange over the comline, Kraken glanced at her ECO who was tracking the incoming relief vipers. Raptor 3 had managed to back away from the fight unnoticed.
The Electronic Counter Measures Officer verified that the Calvary was two minutes out. “Hephaestus, Kraken…you have relief vipers 2 minutes out.”
“This thing is going to be over in two minutes…I'm almost out of ammunition and running low on fuel.” Complained Lancelot.
“Knock it off already; keep your head in the game.” Snapped Lensherr. “Kraken-Hephaestus…clear me through to Apollo.” The connection was made and Lensherr spoke quickly. “Apollo- Hephaestus…most of my squadron is running low on fuel and almost empty on ammo.”
“Hephaestus- Apollo…get back to GALACTICA, we'll cover your six. By the time you get back the fleet will have jumped to safety.”
“Roger that Apollo. Silver Spar squadron this is Hephaestus, return to GALACTICA immediately.” Silver Spar squadron broke free of the fight and made their way back to GALACTICA bruised and battered. Three pilots and their vipers would not be returning from battle this day.
Lt. Gaeta logged the last civilian ship jumping away and turned to the executive officer. “Colonel all ships have successfully jumped to emergency coordinates, Silver Spar squadron is on final approach.”
“Signal Hephaestus to land his squadron and issue a recall order to Apollo…combat landings authorized.”
“Aye sir!” Gaeta opened up a secure channel to Apollo. “Apollo-GALACTICA…you are instructed to return to GALACTICA immediately, combat landings authorized.”
Blue squadron was inflicting serious punishment on the numerically superior raiders; the Cylons had been in prolonged battle and were in dire need of refueling. The fact that they remained on station was evidence enough to the seasoned Apollo that a Basestar would soon be arriving. Aboard Raptor 1, Nina Nintius and her ECO were directing the battle. She heard the recall order and plotted her return course to GALACTICA. The Battlestar was already in jump prep and would be unable to meet them halfway so the run back would be a hairy one. She was hoping that the raiders would be too low on fuel to give pursuit, but she was not ready to take for granted that the Cylons would not chase and just get collected by the incoming Basestar when they ran out of fuel.
“Apollo to all vipers, return to GALACTICA full burn…combat landings are authorized on both landing bays. Good work, and lets all get back in one piece.” Ordered Apollo. Most of Blue squadron was made up of Mk VII vipers; they were far more agile than the Mk II was and faster. They retreated the field of battle and proceeded full speed back to their Battlestar. Surprisingly, the raiders reversed course and regrouped. A minute later a Cylon Basestar jumped into the quadrant and recovered its air-wing.
Back in the present, Admiral Adama and his entourage had completed their inspection of Polaris and were enroute back to GALACTICA. The old man tended to commandeer Raptor controls whenever the opportunity arouse, being a former Raptor pilot he missed the feeling of flying, and took every opportunity to do so when off the GALACTICA.. Major Nintius was extremely protective of her Raptor and usually completed most repairs herself, or at least monitored closely repairs she was clearly not capable of doing. She sat back and let Adama at the controls of the raptor she had come to feel was her own personal property, not that she had much of a choice. Adama was a great pilot in his day, so she felt little anxiety. This was therapy for him, and she was happy to accommodate him.
“Doing fine sir.” Said Nintius looking to start a conversation.
“Were you expecting anything less, Betty? Hell I was flying these things when you were still in elementary school.” Chided Adama towards the woman he considered like a daughter.
“Not at all, sir. So what do you think of Polaris?”
“An amazing ship would be an understatement. Just the sheer size of it dwarfs anything ever built by the Colonies or Earth. Had the choice been mine, I would have opted for two additional Mercury-class Battlestars. They would have been built sooner, and would not require additional support ships to protect it.” Replied Adama.
“I'm not following you sir.”
“The Polaris is an extremely large warship. Just the number of pilots on board itself is incredible, not to mention the crew needed to run it. An unnecessary risk and expenditure in my opinion. Unfortunately the decision is not entirely my own, there are people I answer to in EDC, and they were hell bent on this ‘super carrier' for some reason. I've stressed the need for more Battlestars, but the reality is that Earth is only one world, we don't have eleven other planets to get manpower from to create the type of fleet we had back in the Colonies. Eventually the Cylons will return, and we can't assume they won't find a way to counter our anti-Cylon virus.”
“Three Battlestars, a super Battlestar/carrier hybrid and a dozen support ships…we're growing by leaps and bounds sir!”
“Eventually we will reach a limit. The Mercury-class Battlestars are smaller than Colonial-built ones. The GALACTICA is almost sixty years old, and while I am sure she will last much longer, there is only so much you can upgrade. I have no doubts that the Cylon war machine is always upgrading. I estimate that we can fully equip four more Mercury-class Battlestars at best within the next six years.”
“Well we can always get President McGregor to issue a Presidential edict to get procreating post-Fraking-haste in order to build up our population for future military personnel.” Laughed Nintius. Adama slowly turned his head, eyebrow arched.
“The scary thing about you Nina is that I have no idea if you're serious about that or not.” Laughed Adama. “Either way, Polaris was built and she is indeed a cosmic wrecking machine. I would love to see the look on the face of the first Basestar commander that encounters her. Was it just me, or did it seem that Falcon was in his glory on that ship?”
“Tony is a good man, and one of our best pilots. Naturally, he would want to check out the latest and the greatest. I thought he was going to cream his shorts when he got eyeballs on those jet black Mk VII's.” William Adama spent his entire adult life in the military and was quite used to coarse language that permeated all branches of the service, still he always found himself surprised at Nina Nintius' endless cache of crude euphemisms. Catching his gaze, she instinctively smiled and averted her eyes. “Sorry sir!”
“Lords of Kobol you don't change,” laughed Adama. “Make sure you never do either!” ordered Adama.
CHAPTER 20
Forty light years from Earth's solar system a phalanx of Cylon Basestars glide through space. Within the lead Basestar, a lone Leoben copy sits in a room flanked by two centurions. His face expressionless and his demeanor calm. The door slides open and four humanoid Cylons enter. A Leoben, Cavil, Doral and a redheaded 6 model. They stood before the seated Leoben.
The standing Leoben was the first to speak. “Welcome back brother.” The seated Leoben glanced up and merely nodded. The Six sat down opposite Leoben and spent a moment studying him.
“Your download was a near thing Leoben, tell us…what made you position a heavy raider equipped with a portable resurrection chamber outside of the solar system containing seven planetary bodies?”
A thin smile appeared across his face, the first sign of emotion since his resurrection. “I believe I had a…hunch.” Replied Leoben.
“You said you had a ‘hunch?' Since when do Cylons have a hunch?” questioned the Six.
“Why am I being denied free access to the ship? Why am I being…detained?” Said Leoben as he glanced at the two centurions.
“We were hoping you could provide some answers to some disturbing questions.” Countered Doral. “What happened to the Cavils aboard your ship? What was your reasoning to attempt to assume a leadership role across your entire series?”
Leoben stood up to look Doral squarely in the eyes. “We are an Empire, Doral. We are the most powerful force in the universe, and empires are not maintained by consensus, force and singular leadership and vision maintain them.”
“Did you murder Cavil, and then box his remaining copies?” asked Six.
“No…I killed them all and sent the bodies out of the airlock. Cavil was a direct threat to my mission and authority. I could not allow his opposition to continue.” Said Leoben coldly. The lone Cavil model that remained silent throughout the entire time now spoke up.
“Are we now becoming no better than the humans, murdering our own?”
“I decided that if we were to successfully locate and eradicate the last remnants of humanity than we would have to proceed in a manner that we had not attempted prior. Singular leadership throughout the empire is needed, there are twelve models, with only five unidentified, and not all of those known seven models agree on the human problem.”
The other Leoben spoke up. “With consensus becoming increasingly difficult, we decided to assume complete control across the empire in order to speak with one voice, to strike with one fist. To carry out God's will!”
“What happened to your ship?” pressed Cavil.
“It was destroyed by an intricately designed virus created by the traitor three that was responsible for the Colonial fleet destroying our outpost three years ago. The three model had help…from Earth.” He spoke the last word slowly to let the effect sink in.
“Earth?” said Doral surprised. “The Colonials found Earth?”
“Yes, and they have been busy rebuilding their military. The have constructed two Mercury-class Battlestars, much smaller than GALACTICA for reasons unknown to me, and have succeeded in creating at least 12 squadrons of vipers.”
“What are their intentions?” asked six.
“We captured a Raptor, and interrogated its pilot and ECO. The pilot was more cooperative than the ECO, and she revealed that Earth had openly provided sanctuary to the fugitives. In return, they were beneficiaries to Colonial technology that was far more advanced than their own. Adama now commands a combined Earth-Colonial military, and his sole purpose is to build their offensive and defensive capabilities.”
“To extract revenge, perhaps?” asked Cavil.
“Anything is possible. The colonists now breath clean air, treads real soil beneath their feet, and enjoys their pathetic lives free from the confines of cold space. There are Cylons that believe that the colonists wish to live in peace, but the threat of retribution is real, and it is my intention to eradicate that threat.”
“What about this virus?”
“It is far-reaching and lethal in its entirety. Even with all of my technological and specific preplanning for a long range downloading I barely made it. The traitor three has armed them with a means for our extermination.”
“Why would she do that?” asked Doral.
“According to the captured raptor pilot, she did so to protect the life of her child, and human lover. She most likely knew that her entire series was boxed after she aided the fugitives at the outpost.”
“She gave birth to a child?” said Six excitedly.
“She gave birth to a male child.” Replied Leoben. “The next step in our evolution will depend on these hybrid offspring; it is the will of the one true God.”
“We must take possession of the child, and its mother.” Said Cavil.
“At this point, returning to Earth may prove problematic. That virus was broadcast from the surface, and incapacitation and death is almost immediate.” Informed Leoben.
“We cannot assume that they have not devised a way to broadcast their virus from a mobile platform. We have to get to Earth covertly.” Said Doral “In the meantime, what are we to do with you, Leoben.”
“You can follow me.” Replied Leoben. Our survival and continued supremacy depends on one leader, one vision.”
“That is one opinion Leoben; it is not shared by every Cylon, though I would be lying if I stated I find no logic in your conclusion. This topic will be debated at length at a future point. Count on that!”
Back on board the GALACTICA, Major Nintius-Bastain had just finished stowing her flight suit and was heading for her quarters when she ran into Kara Thrace. “Hey Starbuck, how are you?”
‘No complaints Betty, I'm off duty and on my way to grab some chow with my man.”
“How is Hannibal ?”
“Slow and steady.” Replied Starbuck with a devilish wink. “Things going quite well between us, and I'm amazed at how well he's adapting to life aboard a Battlestar.”
“Don't forget it's all new to them, what were the chances of him and all the rest making it into outer space prior to our arrival. What we take for granted is a dream come true for most of them.” Said Nina. “You two make a great couple Kara, I'm happy for you both.”
“As do you and Falcon, I have to admit you never struck me as the marrying type, but the two of you make it look quite easy.”
“Yeah, it's great. Falcon couldn't ask for a more perfect wife.” Laughed Nina.
“You hear about the newbies that are supposed to be coming in today?” asked Starbuck.
“No. Who are they?”
“Some non-coms and two viper jocks.”
“Viper jocks, eh? Most likely replacing the two from Silver Spar squadron that the old man transferred back to Earth. What a nightmare those two turned out to be, Hotdog had his hands full with them. Said Nintius.
“Fraking clowns had no business being assigned to a viper, much less a Battlestar. The knuckle-draggers couldn't keep up with the repairs to the deck that needed to be done every time they landed.”
“When are they due?”
“Sometime before 1800 hours.” Replied Starbuck.
“Well I'm sure I'll get around to meeting them, I'm going to grab some chow with Falcon. I'll talk to you later.”
“Good night Nina!”
In the pilot's ready room, Captain Brandon Costanza was going over the personnel jacket of his two new pilots. With him was Silver Spar's assistant squadron leader Steve Parsec, call sign Photon.
“What do you think Steve?” asked Hotdog.
“I think there is some promise here, both are aviators with one having an extensive military background and both with spotless records. A little different than the two jokers the Admiral sent packing.”
“Gods I hope so. I'm getting too old to nursemaid these rookies. I'm surprised Hephaestus graduated those guys, it seemed that the longer they were here the worse they got.”
“Space affects different people in different ways, those two were probably good atmospheric pilots, and it's impossible to gauge how space flight will affect a person over time.” Hotdog contemplated his ASL's comment; Steve Parsec was probably the best pilot in the Spars, and one of the best aboard the GALACTICA. His observations held weight.
“True, well the two newbies are due within the hour; I'd like you to be on hand when they land.”
“Consider it done skipper.” Costanza closed the personnel jackets and placed them in a leather carrier embossed with Silver Spar's insignia. He departed the room and went to his quarters.
1800 hours
“GALACTICA this is viper 624, requesting permission to land.”
“Viper 624, GALACTICA…you are cleared to land in the starboard landing bay, call the ball.”
“Viper 624 has he ball, starboard bay.” The viper was a brand new Mark VII, and it touched down flawlessly on the starboard-landing bay. Once the magnetic locks engaged on the elevator, the viper was lowered into the hanger below. Viper 667 followed suit behind it.
With the engines shut down and helmet removed, Lieutenant Anastashia Liathain, call sign Orion climbed out of the cockpit and onto the deck. She took a long look around the cavernous hanger bay, a look of satisfaction spread across her face. Standing at 5'3" and 120 pounds, she had been an aviator in the United States Navy, flying the P-3 Orion; a land-based, long-range anti-submarine warfare (ASW) patrol aircraft. With the end of Earth hostilities, most military pilots across the world were encouraged to enter the viper-training academy in the new Earth Defense Command. Anastashia Liathain graduated second in her class and was given high praise from the lead academy flight instructor, Captain Matthew Lensherr. She would be assigned to the air wing he once commanded. Her dark red hair was pulled back tightly in a long ponytail, a style she was accustomed to but she was surprised at the less-restrictive hair lengths that Admiral Adama allowed in the fleet he now commanded.
A crew chief made her way over to Orion and welcomed her aboard. She watched closely as her Mk VII viper christened Red Lancer was immediately refueled and inspected by the deck gang. After a being given a brief set of directions to the CAG's quarters, Orion walked off the hanger deck. Her flight bag was taken aside and would be delivered to her new quarters at the first opportunity. Within a 15-minute walk, Orion stood outside the quarters of the GALACTICA's CAG. She rapped twice on the metallic door.
“Enter!” came the voice from within. Walking through the door, she entered a medium-sized room that was Spartan and brightly lit. A dry erase board hung on the bulkhead behind a desk with the names of pilots. The board was split into three sections titled Blue squadron, Silver Spar and Raptors. She caught a glimpse of her name at the bottom of the Silver Spar list.
“Lieutenant Anastashia Liathain reporting for duty.” Said Orion from the position of attention. She held a crisp salute, which was immediately returned from Starbuck who was standing to the side of the status board, a file with Liathain's name on it in his free hand. Sitting on a small sofa to the side was Captain Brandon Costanza, call sign Hotdog, Silver Spar's squadron Leader.
“Welcome aboard the GALACTICA Lieutenant, please…stand at ease.” Replied Starbuck sitting down in her high-backed chair. She stood staring at the female officer before her as if sizing her up. Not very tall she thought to herself, but very attractive and obviously in good shape. This was something she was very impressed with regarding members of Earth military, especially the officers she came to know from the United States and the United Kingdom . The physical fitness requirements were extreme.
Many of the British SAS and US Rangers and US Marines made up the ranks of the former Colonial Marine units. By strict Colonial requirements, most Colonial Marines stood over six feet tall, the average CM standing at 6'4 and 250 pounds of pure muscle. They were affectionately referred to as ‘Gorillas.' The introduction of a more diverse group of US Marines and other Earth Special Forces units rounded off the newly reformed Marine unit nicely. While some of the soldiers of these various units complained about being referred to as Marines, they eventually relented and strove to create a unique and professional reputation for their newly formed service branch. Only the best of Earth aviators were invited to attend the initial viper-training classes at first. Teaching atmospheric pilots how to fly a star fighter was a tremendous challenge, and only the best would be taught at first. For the past year, Orion was assigned to an Earth-based fighter squadron, and she had recently requested a Battlestar assignment.
“Lieutenant, you've come highly recommended by Matthew Lensherr and your former commanding officers from the Navy, reading through your service records and training jacket I have to say I am impressed.” She pauses for effect and stares hard at her. “And THAT does not happen often!” She stood at parade rest with eyes straight ahead. “After consultation with Captain Costanza it has been decided to assign you to Silver Spar squadron.” She glanced to her left, “Hotdog?” Captain Brandon Costanza slowly stood up and walked over to Orion.
“Welcome to Silver Spar squadron, Lieutenant!” Said Costanza extending his hand. She averted her gaze to meet Hotdog's and took his hand firmly.
“Thank you sir, it's an honor to be aboard!” replied Liathain.
“You flew reconnaissance aircraft I understand, do you know Branwen from Terra-1?” He was referring to Lt. Anghard Beynon, whose call sign was Branwen. The Welsh beauty was a former Nimrod 2000 pilot assigned to 206 Squadron, RAF Kinloss.
“We traveled infrequently in the same military/professional circles prior to your arrival on Earth sir. She had a respectable reputation in recon circles if I recall correctly.”
“So I hear, though I'm hoping you're a little less hot-headed as she is.”
“I can assure you that I will make no waves aboard GALACTICA, sir!”
“Well unless the CAG has nothing further, you are dismissed and can start unpacking your belongings. You will be sharing a cabin with Lt. St. Lynn , our assigned Raptor pilot. Her call sign is Kraken.” Glancing at Starbuck who shook her head, Hotdog dismissed his new pilot. Orion came to attention, saluted and turned on her heel and exited the cabin. Once the door sealed shut Hotdog glanced over to Starbuck.
“She has a great ass!” quipped Hotdog. Starbuck chuckled and shook her head wearily.
“I didn't notice!” she deadpanned. “On a professional level I think she'll do fine, Hephaestus really talks her up.”
“Hephaestus is usually blinded by feminine beauty!' retorted Hotdog.
“But his eye for a good pilot is flawless, and you fraking know it.” Said Starbuck walking over to a sideboard. She poured two small snifters of brandy, handing one to Hotdog who downed it in one shot
“Alright Hotdog, I've got things to do…get out of here! Hotdog finished his drink and exited the cabin. He headed down to the hanger to ‘check on things.' A habit he acquired from Nightstalker when he was still aboard. He missed his friend, and wished they were still assigned to the same squadron. Captain Mark Sarnex was now commanding his own air-wing aboard Terra-1, Werewolf squadron had gained a strong reputation in combat against the Cylons, and he could not think of a better man to lead them.
Back on Earth, former US President Colin McGregor was now the President for the entire planet. His ascension was almost assured when the Colonial fleet arrived and worked through him exclusively in their transition period. Many world leaders who had already viewed The United States and his presidential predecessor unfavorably initially resented this. Colin McGregor was well liked and respected across the political divide, and he was very different from his predecessor who launched a questionable war on a Middle East country years before. He had worked tirelessly with former Colonial President Laura Roslin to make the transition to Earth as smooth as possible for the remnants of the twelve colonies. Over their short span of working together, the two presidents had become close, with rumors of romance flowing just beneath the surface. The two met for a private dinner twice a week at the White House, which was now the seat of Earth leadership. They were just finishing a meal of roasted quail. A white-clad steward refilled Roslin's glass of dry white whine.
“You look beautiful tonight, Laura. These dinners with you make me very happy.” Said McGregor.
“Thank you Colin, have you always known the right things to say to a woman?” she replied smiling.
“I always thought I was a bit shy around women, but being around you makes me feel so at ease, so happy and contented and I instantly miss you when you leave.” The two pushed back from the table and sat on a sofa before the huge fireplace, several large logs burned brightly in the old fireplace.
“I'm happy to be here with you, I have to admit that the last few years had not left me with much time to pursue personal pleasures, but you make me happy as well.” Replied Roslin, her green eyes sparkling in the light cast from the fireplace. McGregor took her wine glass and gently placed it on the antique coffee table before them. Turning back to Laura he took her hand, squeezing gently he leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. She did not pull away.
CHAPTER 21
FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:
It has been my distinct honor and pleasure to be tasked with the creation of Earth's new defense fleet. The Battlestar Terra-1 under the command of Colonel Saul Tigh has been designated Battlestar Group 2. Under his command is the new super-Battlestar carrier hybrid Polaris, and four Destroyers. Much like the destroyers of Earth's navies prior to our arrival; these destroyers are designed to be fast and maneuverable yet long-endurance warships intended to escort larger vessels in a fleet or battle group and defend them against smaller, short-range but powerful attackers. Battlestar Group 1 contains the GALACTICA; flagship of Earth's defense force and the Battlestar Excalibur under the command of Commander Takeda Kenshin, along with four Destroyers as well.
It is my intention to have four Battlestar groups fully staffed by the year 2015. It would be optimum to have three Battlestars per group, but limited numbers of trained military personnel to full staff even a smaller scale Battlestar restricts us. With Earth being the only source of potential recruits (as opposed to the former 12 colonies), it will be decades before the Earth Defense Fleet is anywhere near the strength level of the former Colonial fleet.
With GALACTICA's air wing filled and the ship supplied, we are about to begin our patrol of the outer rim of our solar system. We will be passing within range of Earth's newly constructed outpost on Pluto, this outpost will be a critical first line of defense in this sector. There has been no contact from the Cylons, and it is my hope that it will remain so. The EDF is a far from ready in defending humanity in the face of the Cylon armada that our intelligence predicts they have. With luck, we will be given time to augment our defenses.
Lieutenant Anastashia Liathain had just finished stowing her personal items when the hatch opened. Her roommate, Lt. Jenna St. Lynn walked in to find a stranger in her cabin. “Orion I presume?” asked the raptor pilot. Liathain extended her hand.
“Anastashia Liathain…you must be Jenna.” Kraken took hold of her hand and shook vigorously.
“Welcome aboard the bucket Orion.” Replied St. Lynn.
“The Bucket?” asked Orion with an arched eyebrow.
“A derisive nickname in some circles, a term of endearment in others.” She replied.
“Well this is a dream come true for anyone from Earth; just the chance to actually travel out into space, never mind on a massive spaceship, or flying a star fighter is a dream. This is something out of Star Trek for God's sake.” Laughed Orion.
“Star Trek?”
“A popular science fiction show, it was a series of space exploration, years ahead of it's time. Before your arrival, space travel like this was the stuff of fantasy.”
“Well I guess Colonial technology isn't so bad after all. Well it's good to see another female pilot on board, Gods know there aren't enough of them to fend off some of the viper jocks who can't keep it in their pants. Watch out for Lancelot, that pervert won't wait long to make a move for you.”
“Nothing a good kick in the balls won't solve.” Replied Liathain with an evil grin.
“Funny you should mention that.” Laughed Kraken. The two knew that they would easily become friends, the two had much in common.
Captain Brandon Costanza nearly ran into the new pilot who was just about ready to knock on the open cabin door. He pulled up fast and gave the pilot before him a once over. “Are you just going to Fraking stand there like a statue or get the hell out of my way, lieutenant?” The man before him did not look a day over 20, and if he had hair one between his legs Hotdog thought he'd be surprised.
“Lieutenant Scott Hopkins reporting for duty, sir!”
“ Hopkins ? Didn't you come aboard at the same time as Lt. Liathain? That was over a fraking hour ago, where the hell have you been rookie?” spat Costanza as he closed the gap between the two. He was now about two inches away from the much shorter pilot, who was now fidgeting like a daggit having to go to the bathroom.
“The deck chief needed….” Costanza cut him off.
“Lieutenant Hopkins do you know what the maximum range of an excuse is?”
“No sir.” Stammered the young pilot.
“ZERO! THE MAXIMUM RANGE OF A FRAKING EXCUSE IS ZERO!” Yelled Brandon Costanza. “Now get the hell out of my face, stow your gear and report to the CAG. IF you don't know where she is than you had best fraking find her post haste!” The rookie lieutenant turned on his heel and bolted down the hallway. Costanza let out a laugh and shook his head. “Starbuck is going to eat that kid alive…what a wonderful start to the day.”
In the CIC, the Admiral was relieving his executive officer. William Adama sat down in his command chair and shot a quick glance over to a nearby ensign who immediately produced a large ceramic mug with a 2010 Army-Navy Football Game insignia
Stenciled on it. The mug, filled with the admiral's preferred blend of dark-roasted coffee was steaming hot.
Captain Felix Gaeta was receiving a message over the fleet com lines. “Admiral, Excalibur is off our port stern and is signaling ready for departure. Our destroyer escorts have taken their positions.”
“Thank you captain, inform Commander Kenshin that we will set sail for Pluto, patrol speed.” Ordered Adama.
“Aye sir.”
The GALACTICA turned 90 degrees and increased her speed; the smaller Mercury-class Excalibur was positioned farther back on her port side. The destroyers took up positions on the outer perimeters. These destroyers were heavily armed with point defense turrets, and could throw up an incredible amount of anti-aircraft fire. They were no match for a Cylon Basestar, but their task was not to engage the heavily armed warship of the Cylon fleet. They were strictly support for the Battlestar, engaging whatever aircraft got through a viper spearhead. One of these ships easily fit into the landing bay of the GALACTICA, and possessed a compliment of 200 officers and enlisted men.
Earth Defense Fleet Viper Training Academy .
Matthew Lensherr was preflight checking his viper. This would be the final hop for this training class. As was his custom, he always flew the final training mission with his nuggets. Nemesis was running at peak efficiency, while he fully trusted the academy flight line crews to inspect, repair, and maintain all vipers, he always supervised major repairs, or refits. Most of the deck gang respected his attention to detail, and there were seldom feelings of negativity or resentment towards him for his constant double-checking of his personal viper. Nemesis had served him well in battle over the years; she was like a well-worn comfortable shoe that he could never contemplate replacing.
Hephaestus was the call sign stenciled in bright red letters under the canopy on both sides of the fuselage. He earned his viper wings in a Mk VII viper, but when the Cylon attack left all of GALACTICA's Mk VII vipers destroyed, he was forced to fly the antiquated Mk. II. Over the years; he had grown used to the Mk. II, and even though all of the Mk. II's constructed on Earth incorporated many of the Mk. VII's systems, Matthew Lensherr remained loyal to his Mk.II and shunned the offer to receive one of the newest Mk. VII's.
Content with the preparedness of ship for flight he handed the checklist clipboard to his crew chief kneeling on the ladder next to him. He was guided onto the flight line, and Lensherr cast a last look at the nuggets lowering their canopies preparing for their final flight. The roar of the engines was deafening, this was music to Lensherr's ears. The control stick vibrated in his grip and the long runway of Groom Lake , otherwise known as Area 51 lay before him. Releasing the brake, he taxied into position.
“Hephaestus-Tower…you are cleared for take off on runway 40 south.”
“Tower-Hephaestus…roger runway 40 south.” The viper careened down the long runway and took to the skies. Hephaestus was in his element. At 20,000 feet, his sleek viper basked in the bright sunlight. Lensherr loved atmospheric flight, and took advantage of every opportunity to fly. The solitude soothed him, and the beauty of magnificent buttes and canyons. The Tonopah Test Range lay beneath him, this was once home to the first F-117 stealth fighter squadron, prior to its being moved to Holloman AFB in New Mexico . Lensherr devoted hours to studying the military jet fighters of Earth's recent past. Even though their most advanced fighter was painfully inferior to a Colonial Viper, he still had deep admiration for these magnificent fighters.
He banked his viper hard port and the sun was now in his six o'clock position. He visually spotted a squadron of vipers climbing from the surface in near perfect formation; the sight immediately triggered old memories.
Ten years earlier…
Six Colonial vipers from the Battlestar Triton flew in tight formation through the gas cloud. Dradis was useless, and visibility was abominable. Each pilot maintained their speed and position, the marker lights on the dorsal and wingtips the only guide of how close they were to each other. Green squadron had been tracking four distinct Dradis contacts that were suspected of smuggling. War with the Cylons was long over, and the Colonial fleet found itself playing the part of civilian law enforcement in space. The craft they were following consisted of one transport ship that was presumably smuggling illegal drugs and heavy weaponry, and three smaller fighter craft, most likely old Mk I vipers long sold for scrap. They had been refitted with more powerful engines, and 20 mm cannons to replace the two military issued MEC-A6 30mm Thraxon forward-firing kinetic energy weapons that the military removed before selling the ship to civilian agencies flying protection.
“Green team this is Green leader, keep you eyes sharp and maintain your intervals. These pirates have grown far too accustomed to not being pursued through the Hala Nebula by the long arm of the law. It's past time we showed these scumbags who controls this sector.”
The Hala Nebula lay at the farthest reach of the Colonial star sector. The nearest colony was Tauron, already a thorn in the side to the Admiralty. Law enforcement on Tauron generally ignored the smuggling profession in their sector, rumor was that they were receiving generous “tribute” from the pirates and left them unmolested providing they did not draw too much attention from the Colonial fleets that patrolled. In this instance, a patrol from the Triton encountered these same pirates, and when an order to halt and prepare to be boarded by the military went unheeded things got ugly. One of the ‘protectors' opened fire on the unsuspecting viper patrol, seriously damaging one of the two vipers. The remaining viper remained on station with his crippled wingman and signaled for assistance from Triton. Green squadron was immediately launched.
“They're going through the nebula and will exit into the old asteroid field, if we don't intercept them before that we're going to have a tough time apprehending them. They know that asteroid field much better than we do, and know every hiding spot.” Said Green Leader.
Hephaestus was surprisingly calm in his cockpit, he felt oddly at ease flying through this soup, as if he knew beyond doubt that he would emerge completely unscathed. It was not too long ago when he was flying for his life through an asteroid field at full speed trying to shake an air-to-sir missile that had locked onto his viper during a training session. He scanned the immediate area around him, identifying each member of his squadron. This was precision flying, he was amongst the best viper pilots in the fleet, and was in his glory. He desperately wanted to apprehend these guys, for too long the pirates in the Tauron system had run unchallenged. The final straw was the looting of a small Colonial weapons reserve station on a moon thought to be a closely guarded secret. It was suspected that the pirates had someone on the inside of the military feeding them sensitive information on weapons caches, and fleet patrol routes. The evidence was clear; they had to have someone on the inside. These lawbreakers always seemed to be forewarned of our presence, and were always one-step ahead in evading capture. In this instance, it was a chance meeting, and now they had to run for it. Triton's alert fighters were on them faster than they anticipated, and the were on the run for their lives and freedom.
The clouds were thinning, and in the distance, Lensherr could make out the telltale afterburners of a tri-engine star fighter. He strained to get a count, only two were seen.
“Green Leader-Green five…Tally two bandits on my ten o'clock position. Distance 2.7.”
“Hephaestus-Green Leader…wilco on the bandits, let's go get em!” The vipers were almost completely free of the nebula and were now streaking through empty space. They were two minutes away from the asteroid field, and one minute away from the fleeing pirates. “I'm picking up the other two on Dradis now; they've got a good head start on us.”
Without warning and to the surprise of everyone the two rear pirate vipers flipped end over end and were now heading for the Colonial vipers in pursuit. They were obviously attempting to buy time for their transport ship and cargo to reach the protection of the asteroid field. The Mk I vipers were archaic, and absolutely no match for the far-superior Mk. VI that were almost on top of them. Unknown to the pilots of Green squadron, these Mk I's had been fitted with the best Voram engines that smuggler cubits could buy. The first viper let loose with a salvo that struck Hephaestus' wingman in the port intake, the explosion ripped the wing completely off.
“Holy Frak, I'm hit…I'm hit.” Yelled Green three. “Krypter Krypter Krypter…Green three declaring an emergency.” The damaged viper went into a spin and struck Green six in the process causing minimal damage to the port wing cannon. Lensherr flipped the safety off his firing trigger and let loose a short burst towards the oncoming rogue viper. The cannon fire stitched its way across the high engine. Without correcting course, he passed the damaged viper, his starboard wing scraping against the fuselage.
“Green leader-Hephaestus…request permission to ignore second viper and pursue cargo ship.”
“Hephaestus-Green leader…good shot kid, you and Green four are instructed to give pursuit, we'll handle the second rogue viper.” Ordered the squadron leader. Lensherr and his wingman had accelerated and had already passed the second viper before either could acquire a firing lock and fire on the other. They kicked in their turbos and made their way after the cargo ship and its lone viper protector. They were almost within the asteroid field. The lone viper had picked up his pursuers on his Dradis and flipped over to face them. These two Colonial vipers stood between him and an incredible payday, and he was not about to let that happen. He let loose short bursts of fire. Lensherr himself was not one to waste ammunition on prolonged fire, he was a firm believer in short accurate bursts, apparently so was this pirate. The pirate corrected for drift and the incoming viper's momentum after each shot.
Green four was a seasoned pilot with at least six years experience in the Mk VI. That experience ended when cannon fire from the rogue viper struck the canopy head on, obliterating the reinforced polycarbonate material striking the pilot in the head and chest. Green four was killed instantly. It was now only Lensherr and the pirate. His pulse quickened, and the hair on the back of his neck bristled. This obsolete viper was clearly being flown by a crack pilot, and Lensherr was not about to let his guard down. He was approaching the Mk I on full battle thrusters, at the first flash of the pirate's cannons Lensherr pushed the control stick hard forward bringing his viper into a dive. The pirate flew by him and Lensherr went into a reverse loop, righting himself on the pirate's six. He let loose a controlled blast striking the port and high engine. The viper was now drifting, and with only one engine, he was not going to be going very far, Lensherr immediately reversed course and went for the cargo ship.
The smuggler's ship was slightly bigger than a Colonial Raptor, and Lensherr doubted it possessed an FTL drive. His eyes focused on the Dradis screen. “There you are!” Lensherr poured on the speed, the smuggler was just entering the asteroid field, but it was too late, the young Colonial officer from the Triton had ‘mark one eyeballs' on him. There was no way he would lose him. Lensherr switched on his transmitter to Unicom, and spoke.
“Attention civilian transport ship, this is Colonial Viper 271 from the Battlestar Triton…you are ordered to stop immediately, please respond!” ordered Lensherr. The transport ship picked up speed and started to take evasive action. Lensherr just smiled. “Fraking idiots!”
Lensherr glided through the asteroid belt easily, his much smaller ship was able to avoid the larger rock fragments. The smuggler was forced to chop his speed in order to maneuver safely around the asteroids. Lensherr pulled up closer and realized he would have to disable the transport's engines without destroying the ship. This would not be as easy as it was with the rogue viper out in clear space running on a straight flight path. The asteroid field forced the transport ship's pilot to continually roll and bank his ship to avoid a collision. He had one chance, and with a quick squeeze of the trigger, he took it. The cannon fire blew out the port engine. The smuggler would have to exit the asteroid field or face certain death attempting to pilot a large craft on one engine in a dangerous asteroid field. The smuggler chose self-preservation and started to exit the field, once clear of it he cut his engines and surrendered. The remaining members of Green squadron arrived on station after destroying one viper and further disabling the second one that was already sidelined with engine damage. Two Raptors towed the transport ship and rogue viper back to Triton. The smugglers were placed under arrest, and Lieutenant Junior grade Matthew Lensherr was eventually promoted to Lieutenant and given a commendation for bravery.
Present day…
Hephaestus switched on his flight communicator to the training frequency. “Alright ladies and gentlemen, this will be the last hop of your training class. Your written exams are complete and have been graded; this last exercise will determine who wears the wings and who does not. Time to play kill the academy master, good luck to you all, remember your training and good hunting!”
Lensherr yanked the controls hard port and took his viper into a dive towards the deck; he was heading for a canyon notorious for clipping the wings of viper pilots not paying strict attention. This was one of many differences between Earth and the former Colonies; while Earth's air forces trained very hard, there were limits as to what was allowed to happen in training flights. Not one Earth air force would have ever contemplated allowing a game of search and destroy through a notoriously dangerous terrain such as the one Matthew Lensherr was now traversing.
A Cylon raider was cold, methodical and fearless. The thinking in the Colonial Military was that training had to walk that razor's edge at all times, to push beyond the limit in order to have even a remote sense of equality in combat against a more advanced adversary that was not limited by human emotion such as fear, or an over-abundance of caution.
This point-of-view often produced vigorous debate amongst Earth officers and Colonial ones. However, Admiral William Adama was in command of the Earth Defense Force, and his was the final word. Viper training on Earth would be no different from Viper training in the former twelve worlds. Lensherr roared through a magnificently colored canyon. These were rugged and arid landscapes of desert and rock, mountains where thunderstorms deliver deluges of rain that tear the land apart leaving amazing trenches, and cliffs that would be any hiker's dream to enjoy. However, this area was closed to civilians, and the airspace severely restricted.
The eight training vipers would be split into four two-man teams with the sole mission to seek out Hephaestus and shoot him down before he did the same to them. The bulk of initial EDF viper pilots were seasoned military earth pilots. Subsequent training classes were opened to military non-combat pilots and commercial pilots. This class was mostly civilian pilots from across the world and posed no serious threat to a seasoned combat viper pilot such as Lensherr, but he would not take that for granted. There was some serious diamonds-in-the-rough in this particular class, thought Lensherr. Cadet Kelly Rasputin was one such pilot; Lensherr took a special interest in her progress. His Dradis chirped, taking a quick glimpse down at the screen he noticed he was being “painted” by vipers TV-one and TV-two, the “TV” standing for Training Viper. They were just entering the canyon and far enough back to make Lensherr think they were being too cautious in the winding terrain.
He knew this terrain like the back of his hand, having flown it hundreds of times since being assigned to the Viper Academy as chief instructor. There was a unique rock structure coming up with a large opening in the middle of it. Just big enough for a viper to pass through at cruising speed by the hand of a seasoned pilot with mere feet to spare on either side of the wings. Hephaestus depressed the thruster pedal and increased speed heading straight for the towering rock structure. The Dradis chirps started to break up as he pulled away from his pursuing vipers. He passed through the opening at high speed and immediately pulled back hard on the stick to gain altitude. After a 2,000-foot climb, he leveled off to come parallel with the horizon. He could see his pursuing vipers fly around the structure, the pilots made their first mistake. By flying around the structure as opposed to through it, they committed themselves to staying in the canyon that narrowed at the top, preventing them from exiting for another half-mile, losing precious time and position.
His Dradis now picked up four more contacts at four o'clock low; the second mistake of the day. These four pilots should have split up into two groups. He rolled to starboard and descended upon the four fighters. Arming his weapons, he locked onto TV-4 and fired his cannons. The laser pulses that emerged in place of actual rounds found its target on the receiver of TV-4's fuselage. First kill to Hephaestus. As was the procedure for a kill, the pilot shot down would return to the base and sit out on the wing of his viper. The three remaining vipers peeled off, and Hephaestus gave pursuit to the single viper that was making a dash for the deck. The lone viper pilot corkscrewed in an attempt to avoid being hit, Lensherr easily compensated and shot him down, veering off for a fresh target.
His onboard computer warned him of a viper attempting to acquire a firing lock on his viper. Lensherr glanced all around and spotted a pair of vipers coming in from the south. TV-7 and TV-8 were bearing down upon him. Cadet Rasputin was flying TV-8 and in the lead. Hephaestus went into defensive mode and made for the canyons, the two vipers hot on his trail. The computer was registering glancing hits from Rasputin's withering assault, nothing fatal yet. He depressed his thruster pedal deeper and corkscrewed in order to prevent giving her a clean shot. The jagged rock formations gave perfect cover for the pilot not afraid to brave them up close, which Hephaestus did. He noticed TV-7 chop back his speed slightly; Rasputin maintained her speed and matched Nemesis turn for turn. Lensherr smiled at her persistence. He was right about this one; she had what it took to be a good viper pilot, but was far from being in the same class of most of GALACTICA's original viper pilots. He broke out of the short canyon and gained altitude. The plane-of-motion between Hephaestus and TV-8 was identical, she was matching him turn for turn. Hephaestus would have to bring his viper “out of plane” meaning that he would have to get out of sequence with his pursuer. “When finding yourself defensive ENERGY IS EVERYTHING,” this was something Hephaestus drilled into his trainees. To compensate for this you had go into a high-speed turn and maintain that turn and force your pursuer to bleed energy in order to stay with you with the hope that they will overshoot your turning circle.
Rasputin maintained her turn longer than expected; she clearly paid attention during his lectures. He was going to have to get creative to shake her. His turns grew tighter and already he noticed Rasputin's wingman fall back even farther. In an instant, he applied maximum flap which resulted in dragging the bottom of the plane backward, forcing the nose down. The confused cadet flew right past him and was now in the defensive position. Hephaestus capitalized on this role reversal and acquired a firing lock on TV-8's engines. With a squeeze of the trigger, Cadet Kelly Rasputin was sent back to the tarmac. It would take another seven and a half minutes for Matthew Lensherr to make short work of the remaining vipers.
Gina Inviere slipped her hand gently into the DataStream, the water cascaded over the luminous glass surface of the basin and she was now interfaced to the hybrid that controlled the Basestar. Her eyes closed, she proceeded to access information about the solar system before them, information that was catalogued covertly by a scout ship. She opened her eyes and turned to Leoben who stood close by.
“Seven planets inhabiting a system containing a medium sized star, on the third planet is where the humans seek refuge?”
“That is correct, the planet Earth, home the lost thirteenth tribe of Kobol.”
Gina had long harbored doubt about the decision to exterminate the human race. As evidenced by Sharon Valeri and D'Anna Biers, not all of the humanoid Cylons agreed that the human race must be destroyed. Cavil and Doral were the most vocal critics for destruction of the human race, Simon was a scientist, and she felt he secretly desired to see an end to hostilities if for no other reason than to have an endless supply of humans to study and conduct tests on. Leoben was the mystery; he viewed himself as a prophet who was chosen to assume the mantle of leadership of the Cylon race, which he came to view as an empire. He was successful in bringing the Doral and Simon models over to his way of thinking regarding one Imperious Leader. Cavil had strong reservations that she speculated bordered on a grudge being held over the treatment of his series aboard Leoben's now-destroyed Basestar.
“We cannot risk approaching the planet, and we have no intelligence that would tell us if they have managed to transmit this virus from a mobile platform such as a Battlestar or satellite.” Stated Gina.
“That is correct. It is my opinion that we send out a patrol to be intercepted by their fleet and see if the virus is unleashed. Further, we must send a team covertly to Earth to apprehend D'Anna Biers and her hybrid offspring. This child must be protected and studied; it is the future of the Cylon race.”
“We have two Basestars, and we have summoned two more to this system. I would advise remaining outside of Earth's solar system and gauge their defensive capabilities.”
“Agreed.” Said Leoben. He leaned closer to Gina, ensuring that her ears only would hear what he had to say.
“You don't believe we should destroy the humans!” he said, more statement than question.
“I believe we were in error in attempting to exterminate them. We lived under an armistice for close to forty years, our race moving out from under the oppressive yoke of our creators to create our own civilization. I don't see the logic in the hostilities between races, all we have accomplished was the near genocide of their race, and increased the chances of creating an environment for vengeance.”
“Do you believe we should leave them to their own devices?” asked Leoben.
“I don't know, the odds of their seeking revenge is high, and justifiably so.”
Leoben smiled. “Interesting observation.”
The Battlestar Excalibur cruised high off the flagship's starboard side rear. This Mercury-class Battlestar was a near twin for Terra-1, and her commanding officer; Commander Takeda Kenshin was a student of Earth military history of war and officer ship. His inspirations were Prussia 's Frederick the Great and America 's General George Patton, and of course the famous Japanese military leader, whose name he bore, Takeda Shingen, 16th century warrior.
Surrounding Excalibur and the GALACTICA were her escort destroyers; small, quick lethal platforms consisting mainly of point defense guns and limited amount of larger caliber batteries. These destroyers were primarily built to be secondary line of defense right after a Battlestar's air wing. No match for a Cylon Basestar, but it is believed they could hold their own if fighting in packs for a short duration.
Approaching the edge of Earth's solar system, approaching the region known as the Kuiper Belt, Pluto loomed large before them. On August 24, 2006, Earth's International Astronomical Union much to the chagrin of astronomy enthusiasts reclassified Pluto as a dwarf planet. Pluto now served as Earth's only remote outpost, a guardian to the gates of Earth's solar system in that region.
Members of Silver Spar squadron flew in advance of their group, under command of Captain Brandon Costanza; it consisted of Orion, Photon, and Costanza's newest assignee whose call sign was Baby Face. A name assigned to him by his academy instructor due to his boyish looks. The four vipers flew in a staggered formation well ahead of the flagship, scouting the area before them. The patrol was six minutes out from GALACTICA when all hell broke loose. The blinding flash of Cylon raiders jumping into the quadrant caught them off guard. Approximately twenty raiders appeared before them.
“Holy Frak where did they come from?” yelled out Steve Parsec to nobody in particular. Photon was a veteran viper pilot who did not startle easily. Cylon raiders appearing out of thin air, or more accurately, out of a hyper light jump was enough to startle even the most hard core combat pilot.
“All wings-Hotdog…tighten your formation. We are going to have to fight our way clear so you are now weapons free. Lets go get em!” ordered Costanza over the comline.
Aboard GALACTICA, Captain Felix Gaeta had immediately identified the Cylon raiders, and the ship was placed at Action Stations. Colonel Adama was at her station immediately.
“Sitrep Felix…what do you have?” asked the executive officer.
“Sir, Dradis identifies 22 Cylon raiders jumping into our outer security envelope. They practically jumped right onto our patrol.” Apollo turned on his heel and walked over to the center of the CIC where the command chair was. Admiral Adama was now entering the CIC and was asking for a sitrep.
“Sir we have 22 Cylon raiders that jumped into the outermost perimeter of our security envelope. Our patrol squadron has engaged them; I was just about to launch the alert fighters.”
“Make it happen XO. Captain Gaeta I want a long range Dradis sweep immediately, those raiders didn't come alone, find their Basestar.” Snapped Adama.
“My guess is that this is a recon-in-force, sir.” Added the younger Adama.
“Get some Raptors in the air, Colonel. Notify the Excalibur and our escorts of the situation and have them prepare for hostilities.” Vipers from Blue squadron were launched along with the remainder of Silver Spar squadron. Two Raptors, one from each squadron took to the vacuum of space as well.
Major Nina Nintius-Bastain, call sign Betty brought her raptor off the deck within minutes of the klaxon sounding. Her job would be to direct the field of combat for Blue squadron, and Lt. Jenna St. Lynn would handle Raptor operations for Silver Spar squadron. After accounting for all her assigned vipers, Betty opened up a direct line to Blue squadron's flight leader and CAG Major Kara Thrace, call sign Starbuck. “Starbuck-Betty, our patrol is hip deep in that Cylon force, let's kick in the burn and get out there!” While combat was taken deathly serious, there still was an amount of squadron pride in the air, and Betty wanted her squadron to get into the fight before the remaining Spars, and the eventual launching of her husband's Hunter Seeker squadron.
“Blue squadron-Starbuck, let's kick in the burn people…our patrol is outnumbered and defensive.”
Starbuck was only partially correct, Costanza's patrol was indeed outnumbered, but they were far from playing the part of defenseless. The four Spars had immediately engaged the Cylon patrol. Hotdog guessed that the raiders had to have been just as surprised as they were when they came out of the jump to encounter a viper patrol. He decided to hit them hard fast and try to even the odds.
“Orion-Hotdog, watch your four o'clock position.” Lt. Anastashia Liathain caught view of the incoming raider and went into a roll, enemy cannon fire making a clean miss. She righted her aircraft directly behind two raiders that were bearing down on Baby Face. She lined up the first raider in her sights and awaited the tone indicating a firing lock. The high-pitched tone sounded over her helmet's interior speaker. She pulled the trigger and unleashed a devastating volley upon the raider, destroying it. The second raider banked hard away from the exploding raider instantly. Her quick reflexes matched the escaping raider and she gave pursuit. This raider bobbed and weaved; Orion was getting annoyed at her inability to take it out. Something was wrong, she could feel it. This raider was running and not fighting. The fleeing raider was drawing her into a crossfire being prepared by two converging raiders.
Photon recognized the tactic instantly. The Earth pilots were proving very good viper pilots, but did not have the experience of countless dogfights to realize the trap being set. He depressed his thruster pedal and set out on an intercept track. Orion's wing cannons blazed, and the raider rolled maniacally to avoid the fire. “Orion-Photon break pursuit and dive now!” yelled Photon over the comline. She immediately complied, and barely avoided the cannon fire that was unleashed on her by two unseen raiders. Had Photon not warned her she would have taken the full barrage from the incoming raiders that she was being led towards. One of those raiders was destroyed by Photon, and his wingman Baby Face gave chase to the second.
Back on board GALACTICA, Admiral Adama was out of his command chair and pacing. He stopped at his XO who was standing beneath the main Dradis screen. Lee Adama was an extremely capable CAG prior to his promotion, and William Adama would be lying to himself if he never entertained the thought of whether or not he would be able to fill Saul Tigh's shoes. In the time since he promoted Lee he had come to realize that whatever concerns he had where for naught, His son transitioned very well into the Executive Officer slot. With his voice low, he looked his XO directly in the eye.
“Lee, this could be a prelude to an all out attack. Send a scrambled signal to the Pluto base; they've got four full squadrons of Mk. VII's, and I want to make sure the base commander has them airborne at a moment's notice.”
This thought had entered Apollo's mind as well, he was pleased to see that he was in tune with the old man. “Aye sir.” Felix Gaeta was now at the Dradis console, looking at the admiral.
“Sir I just received a message from Excalibur, they have red and green squadrons prepared to launch on your orders.”
“Inform Excalibur to remain on standby, let's see what happens with this patrol. If this is an advance team, then the Basestars won't be far behind.” Ordered Adama.
CHAPTER 22
Leoben Conoy was dressed in standard civilian attire, nothing that would draw unwanted attention. Earth attire was surprisingly similar to Colonial attire, so this would be one less hurdle to overcome. Beneath his vest was a shoulder harness that contained one Colonial-issue sidearm; its former owner being one Major Elyssa DeAlma, former Raptor pilot, prisoner, and love interest for Leoben; now quite dead. Doral, Simon, and Sharon were similarly attired, and checking their side arms. Four heavily armed Centurions would accompany the mission to Earth. A heavy raider was outfitted for stealth capability, and a small series of hyperlight jumps were planned to take the most direct route to Earth orbit without tripping any remote Dradis relay satellites or manned patrols.
Gina was observing the four preparing for the mission, she was aware of the feelings of envy percolating within her. For reasons she could not understand she wished she was on the mission to Earth. She looked directly at Leoben and spoke. “We are in agreement that D'Anna will be returned alive with the child.”
Leoben looked contemplative for a moment before replying. “Well it would be against my better judgment in regards to dealing with traitors, but it is obvious that we will need her for information regarding Earth and her defenses.”
“Once we enter Earth orbit under stealth mode we will start our scan of the planet to locate D'Anna. Our estimations conclude that this could take a minimum of twelve hours to accomplish.” Said Simon. “It also must be understood that we will be out of resurrection range if we encounter the virus.”
“The Basestars will divert the attention of GALACTICA and her escorts with the expectation that reinforcements will be called in to assist her.” Said Doral.
“Once we locate the traitor and her offspring we will collect her. The Centurions will provide the security needed. As long as we keep within stealth mode, and limit our exposure, our mission's success estimates increase.
“May God watch over you all then!” said Gina lowering her head.
“God will have nothing to do with our success or failure!” replied Simon somewhat annoyed.
Back on Earth, Captain Mark Sarnex is enjoying his leave. Since the moment they came to Earth, Nightstalker had not taken shore leave of any kind. He is the flight leader for Werewolf squadron aboard the Battlestar Terra-1 and now was enjoying a relaxing hot tub soak with two very lovely women in an establishment of questionable repute in the state of Rhode Island . Mark found the geographically smallest state in the United States much to his liking. Its coastal beauty intrigued him, and for some odd reason he felt “at home” here.
The hot tub relaxed him, and the two rather buxom young women had been his companions ever since encountering them at the airport lounge. They were locals, and took it upon themselves to show him the best the state had to offer. After sampling some fine Italian cuisine in the neighborhood known as Federal Hill, the three journeyed south towards the coastline. After a long stay on the pristine beaches of Charlestown , they three made their way to a local “health spa” that catered to the particular tastes of the well-to-do.
Tanya sat to Mark's left, a glass of dry white wine in her delicate hand was half empty, she was the more talkative of the two ladies, and Sarnex deduced that her bust-size exceeded her IQ. A fine shore leave to be sure thought Sarnex, a grin permanently plastered to his face. Liza was slightly more cerebral than her best friend was and apparently had a better plastic surgeon. Her breasts were somewhat smaller, and looked a whole lot more real. Both women were in fine shape, and Mark was amazed at the synchronicity in which they performed sexually. This would be a shore leave to remember.
His cell phone chirped, and before answering it he looked to see who was pestering him. The cell phone came with a program that would display an image of his choice for a particular programmed called. The image on his screen was the Greek God of Fire, Hephaestus. Hephaestus was also Captain Matthew Lensherr, former Silver Spar squadron leader aboard GALACTICA, current viper training academy headmaster, and best friend. Much to the annoyance of his two female companions, he toggled the on button. “Speak mighty Hephaestus.”
“Mark…where the hell are you?” asked a cheery Lensherr.
“East coast my friend, fifth day of shore leave and loving every minute of it.”
“Any plans to go west?”
“Only if you're divorced and D'Anna is now a free woman.” Quipped the inebriated Sarnex.
The chuckle at the other end of the transmission was followed up by another question. “Seriously, any plans to head to Groom Lake ? I thought we'd get together before you have to return to Terra-1.”
“I have two more days of leave and should be able to get a transport out there.” He replied. Disappointment clearly showing on the face of the young women.
“Excellent, D'Anna and I will expect you, and James would love to see his godfather.”
“Inform the lad that I will be there. Gotta go Matt, I have ‘pressing matters' that need my immediate attention.” Replied Sarnex.
“Tell the young lady I said hello!”
“I'll tell them both!”
Lensherr cut the transmission leaned back and laughed. “Both? Good Lords the luck of that man!”
The battle was raging beyond Pluto. The raiders were putting up a good fight for being so outnumbered. Four vipers were lost, and the raiders were penetrating GALACTICA's outermost security envelope.
The sudden appearance of two Basestars changed the dynamic of the battle. Raiders were instantly launched and entering the field of battle.
“Dradis contact…two Cylon Basestars have just jumped into the quadrant.” Alerted Gaeta . “They're launching their entire compliment, Admiral.”
“XO, scramble a message to Pluto, have them launch their fighters. Also inform EDF command of the situation, we may need reinforcements.” Ordered Adama. Apollo immediately carried out his orders.
“Helm, bring us about…course 144.5. Weapons officer, standby on main batteries.” Boomed Adama.
The remaining compliment of GALACTICA's fighters now entered the fray. Hunter Seeker squadron was now plowing through the incoming raiders. Lieutenant Anthony Cruise; call sign Maverick immediately zeroed in on a pair of raiders and committed to attack.
“Eagleone – Maverick…two bandits at eleven o'clock low I'm going in.” Eagleone was the call sign for Lt. Warren Rucks, a seasoned viper pilot recently transferred to Hunter Seeker squadron. Rucks was due for promotion to captain, and when his mentor Falcon was given his own squadron to command he petitioned to be assigned to the new squadron.
“Maverick – Eagleone…I'm with you, take the frakers out.” Replied Rucks over the comline. Maverick was a former naval aviator; he had “requested” to be assigned to GALACTICA upon his graduation from viper school. The young pilot had promise, and Adama genuinely liked him, even if it was not readily apparent. Maverick had accelerated to attack speed and lined up the closest raider in his gun sights. Getting a good tone indicating a computer lock he squeezed the trigger, the raider was blown to pieces. Both vipers avoided flying through the debris field and hunted down the second raider that was doing its best to evade fire.
Betty was far enough from the battle and her raptor was monitoring the fight keeping an accurate accounting of enemy fighters. Her husband's squadron just entered they fray, and naturally her anxiety level rose slightly.
“All attack fighters – Betty…be advised you have another enemy squadron coming in from that second Basestar.” The fighter squadrons from Pluto were still too far out at this time, and Excalibur's thirty vipers in addition to GALACTICA's eighty plus were outnumbered.
GALACTICA and Excalibur had split up and were flanking the Basestars. The destroyer escorts were throwing up a flak wall for the occasional raiders that ignored the vipers and engaged the Battlestars. One of the Basestars launched a devastating salvo of missiles towards one of the destroyers. While very fast and maneuverable, the escort was unable to escape the barrage. It took two missiles in the stern section, effectively crippling the main propulsion unit. The destroyer's captain ordered the ship brought about on maneuvering thrusters, and was attempting to get above the oncoming Basestar. The ship was too slow and the next barrage of missiles found their mark. The ship exploded violently.
In the GALACTICA's CIC, the death cry of the Destroyer Valiant sounded across the bridge. Adama slammed his fist down on the armrest of his command chair. “Damn it! XO signal the Destroyers, they are not to engage Basestars…leave them to us. Have them fall back and protect us from incoming raider attacks.” GALACTICA closed on the nearest Basestar, her destroyer escorts positioning themselves on her flank. The weapons officer was soon reporting that the Basestar was in effective firing range.
“Weapons…full spread from the forward batteries…execute!” commanded Adama. A faint shudder could be felt throughout the ship as her massive forward batteries discharged. The projectiles streaked towards the massive Basestar, striking one of the unarmored Y-shaped hulls. The retaliatory strike is immediate, much to Adama's surprise. A blistering shower of missiles rain down upon the aging Battlestar. The Destroyer escorts do their job buy throwing up a deflecting flak curtain, cutting down many of the missiles. Some however succeed in finding their mark.
“Admiral that Basestar shrugged off that last missile attack, they must be building these things armored now.” Said Apollo. Cylon Basestars relied on overwhelming force of their raider compliments as their primary defense system. Typically, they did not fare well in close-range combat with the heavily armored Battlestars.
“Fraking toasters are starting to smarten up. Helm…lets get in tight with them, prepare for salvo firing.” Ordered Adama. The Excalibur was taking the fight to their Basestar; Commander Kenshin was using hit and run tactics. With a ship half the size of its opponent, and twice as fast in sub light mode, her commander was not mirroring GALACTICA's toe-to-toe battle tactic. Excalibur was maneuvering at her top sub light speed while unleashing wave after wave of missile fire.
“Colonel, I have Silver Spar squadron on approach for reload and refueling, Hotdog kept them on station until the Pluto fighters arrived.” Informed Gaeta .
“Get them aboard and refueled and reloaded as quickly as possible Captain, even with the fighters from Pluto we're outnumbered.” Snapped Apollo. Captain Gaeta acknowledged and directed the incoming fighters to land on both decks. The flight crews knew they would have to get these birds topped off and rearmed in the fastest way safety would permit.
Lt. Anastashia Liathain glanced at her instrument panel, warning lights flashed indicating several system malfunctions courtesy of the battle. She had 600 pounds of fuel on board and her ammunition was depleted. Being the seasoned pilot, Orion keyed her microphone and declared an emergency. “GALACTICA-Orion requesting emergency approach on starboard landing bay…battle damage has resulted in complete failure of primary hydraulics, and a warning light on secondary hydraulics, over.”
“Orion-GALACTICA, roger your request for emergency approach, proceed to starboard landing bay, remaining vipers are hereby directed to the port landing bay until you have secured landing, over.” Replied Gaeta .
Orion coaxed her viper; christened Red Lancer towards the landing bay, it would not be a smooth approach due to the GALACTICA maneuvering under fire. She had six Battlestar landings under her belt, none under combat conditions. Undaunted she compensated for the pitch of the deck and headed in. Her last view of the field of battle was the looming Basestar under heavy fire. Red Lancer came in heavy and set down on one of the platforms that would lower it into the hanger bay. A haze started to form inside the cockpit, and an alarm went off indicating a slight smoke condition, somewhere in the cockpit was an electrical fire.
The heavy raider materialized for the final time high up in Earth orbit. Its stealth technology would prevent it from being detected by Dradis sweeps. Doral glanced at the blue-green planet beneath them. “Hyperlight jump completed, we are in geosynchronous orbit 35,786 km above Earth's surface.”
Simon's hands worked the console before him at lightning speed. His long fingers tapping in commands that would begin a systematic search for a three model Cylon on the planet. Four heavily armed Centurions remained motionless against the bulkhead.
“Notify the Baseship; inform them that we arrived without incident.” Said Leoben to the Sharon model.
4,536358,827 km away, the battle rages with heavy casualties on both sides. Another Destroyer fell before the Cylon Basestar, with extensive damage done to a third. Aboard the lead Basestar, Gina is informed of Leoben's success in reaching Earth covertly. A Cavil model is at her side.
“The GALACTICA and her support ships have fought a conventional battle with us, it must be assumed that this ‘virus' of theirs cannot be transmitted from a space ship. That must mean the transmitter is planet-based.” Said Cavil.
“That would be an acceptable speculation. We can now recall the raiders and withdraw, the ship has sustained moderate damage and I prefer to remain intact.” Cavil thrust his hands into the basin that contained the data stream, and the hybrid reacted immediately to the commands. Within moments, the airborne raiders broke off their attack and returned to their assigned Baseship. Soon, both Basestars vanished.
The crash crew swarmed around Red Lancer once it had been lowered into the hanger. The hanger crews were all trained firefighters, and were outfitted in their silver firefighter gear and self-contained breathing apparatus. Orion had popped the canopy and a firefighter wielding large bolt cutters had appeared and reached in over a very annoyed Anastashia Liathain. He was cutting her initiator hose with a de-arming tool. The de-arming tool was designed for the Rescue Team to be able to cut the Initiator Hose on the rear top of the ejection seat in vipers and raptors. The basic concept was that it cut a section (about 1") out of the hose. This prevented the hot gases from the initiator from reaching the seat motor and firing it. You did not want a malfunctioning ejection seat going off in a hanger, especially if the pilot was still strapped in and a member of the rescue team was attempting to extricate the pilot. This would most likely result in the death of both people.
“Is that really necessary petty officer?” asked Liathain pulling her helmet off, frustration clear in her voice.
“Standard procedure on aircraft damaged in battle sir. The last thing we need is you and I taking the express route to the hanger ceiling due to an ejection seat prematurely going off.” Explained the young petty officer.
Liathain heard every word of the petty officer's response, but all it translated into was that “Red Lancer” would be down for repairs. “Get that damned initiator hose replaced as soon as possible, no telling how long it'll be before the Cylons return. The primary hydraulics is shot, and the secondary is giving me a warning light. God only knows what's burning under the control panel.”
“That's what the knuckle draggers will find out Lieutenant… let them do their jobs!” The unmistakable voice of Captain Brandon Costanza came from behind. He was clutching his helmet in his hand and was soon at her side. “Good job out there Orion, how many kills did you have?”
“Four sir.” Replied Orion triumphantly. Hotdog looked over to the deck chief and called out.
“Hey Chief…my rookie has four toaster kills, can you ‘tag' her viper when you get the chance?” Tagging meant painting a silhouette of a raider on the fuselage of the viper indicating kills.
“As time permits Captain!” came the reply of the deck chief that obviously had other priorities.
“The Cylons have retreated for the moment, no sense in rushing to the head or grabbing something to eat while waiting for a reload and refuel. Hunter Seeker squadron will remain on alert, I need to get topside…want to find out our losses. Go grab some rest Orion, you did great today.” Said Hotdog as he walked out of the hanger bay. Liathain just stood there, watching as the deck crews swarmed over her viper and a few other battle damaged vipers. This definitely beat hunting for submarines she thought, smiling broadly.
In the CIC, Adama was receiving the bad news from his executive officer. “We lost two Destroyers, the Valiant and Picon. The Destroyer Potemkin has sustained moderate damage to their FTL drives and portside weapons grid. A total of eleven Vipers from GALACTICA and two from Excalibur were destroyed, two pilots were recovered alive and uninjured from the rescue raptor. The Pluto air wing lost six vipers as well.” Reported Apollo.
William Adama leaned back in the high backed command chair. He rubbed his temples and exhaled slowly. He never took the deaths of viper pilots lightly; even though he was a raptor pilot and not a viper pilot in his early career, he still considered them the razor-tipped part of the spearhead of any battle fleet. The loss of two Destroyers was the worst of it. He could feel the bile rising in his mouth.
“Anyone care to speculate on what they were doing here, and where the hell they went to?” asked Adama. His senior officers were surrounding his chair, and GALACTICA's CAG; Major Kara Thrace was the first to speak up.
“Admiral, my guess is that they were probing our defenses. We have to assume that the Basestar we destroyed with the virus was able to warn their command of Earth's location prior to their destruction. They could have been testing to see if we've been able to utilize the virus while mobile, instead of the land-based transmission.”
“Regrettably we have been unable to accomplish that task. The virus transmission requires more energy to allow the transmission beam to penetrate distance and plating of the Basestar. Even the GALACTICA could not generate the required energy without jeopardizing the ship's defensive grid. EDF physicists are attempting to rectify that, even if on a smaller scale, much like what the Cylons did to us back in the colonies.” Said Felix Gaeta. The ensign covering Gaeta 's station as he was in discussion with the senior staff interrupted.
“Admiral…I'm receiving a priority message from General Peter McAllister at Earth Defense Command.” Adama placed a set of headphones offered by Gaeta on his head and signaled the ensign to patch the communication through to him.
“GALACTICA actual on the line, go ahead Command!” spoke Adama.
General Peter McAllister was the Supreme Commander for Earth Defense Command. He was Adama's superior officer. “Bill, what the hell is happening out there?”
“General we encountered two Cylon Basestars as we were exiting the solar system. We've lost two destroyers, and a third is limping its way to the Pluto base as we speak. Nothing that cannot be repaired, but the Valiant and Picon were lost with three hundred souls on board. Nineteen vipers lost along with seventeen pilots. Two pilots were able to successfully eject.”
“I've placed the military on alert, and Commander Tigh's battle group is prepared to jump to your location on your orders.” Replied McAllister.
“I'd advise caution at this time sir, the Cylons have withdrawn from the area, it is the opinion of my senior staff that they may have been an advance team sent to determine if our Cylon virus was portable. It is my opinion that they will return with superior numbers at some point in time. I plan to fall back to Pluto and remain on station until they make their next move.”
McAllister was a seasoned military commander, and he trusted Adama explicitly. He allowed Adama almost free rein in the creation of the Earth Defense Fleet, and rarely if ever questioned his actions. Now would be no different. “Admiral proceed as you see fit, and keep me advised. I will notify the President!”
“Message received, GALACTICA actual out!” The transmission was cut and he handed the headphones back to Gaeta . “Starbuck, I want all of your pilots on alert status until further notice, I don't want any of them farther than their quarters or ready room. I need those birds in the sky at a moment's notice.” Ordered the Admiral. On the GALACTICA, the viper crews were berthed on the same deck as the hanger bay in order for the pilots to get to their fighters in the shortest possible time. The recreation room where most of the pilots unwound were located two decks above the starboard flight pod, it would be off limits to pilots until further notice.
10:20 am Eastern Standard Time. Earth, the state of Rhode Island on the North American continent.
Mark Sarnex opened one eye and peered at the clock on the nightstand; 10:20am was the time, it took him a few moments for his eyes to focus, but his brain immediately registered the dilemma. “Oh frak, I must have slept through the alarm!” Pushing himself up off the mattress, he realized that there was a reason he was so drained, two of them actually.
Tanya reached out and grabbed Mark's arm gently. “Leaving so soon stud?” The sheet slipped off her size 38 DD breasts revealing the small dragon tattoo on the cleavage of her left breast.
“Yes I'm sorry to say, need to get to TF Green airport for the 11:45 Southwest flight to Nevada . Lucky for me this state is only 45 minutes in any direction, I can be at the airport in 20 minutes from here.” Liza was now waking up as well and Tanya dropped down on both elbows and planted a long kiss on her lips. Sarnex was immediately regretting his promise to Hephaestus. “Lords of Kobol how I love you Earth women!” laughed Sarnex as he pulled on his pants. Reluctantly he left the two women to enjoy a continuation of last night's festivities as he hailed a cab to the airport. He flipped open his cell phone to call Hephaestus when he noticed the battery was dead. This was not a good start to his morning.
CHAPTER 23
The stealth Heavy Raider was descending from the upper atmosphere. Unless they were detected visually, they would make it to the surface unmolested. Simon looked quite pleased with himself, he had located D'Anna Bier's signature.
“I have a lock on the renegade, the coordinates have been fed into the navigational computer and we will put down in a remote area.” Simon was a scientist, he had no interest in D'Anna's opinion on human-Cylon relations, nor was he concerned that she would commit treason by aiding the remnants of the colonies flee from certain extermination. His concern was the hybrid child that she alleged to have produced. This child was the future of the Cylon race, and he longed to study it.
“The Centurions know their assignment?” Sharon asked Leoben.
“They know that the traitor is to be taken into custody, and that the child is to be protected at all costs. Anyone else will be eliminated.” Responded Leoben without emotion. The chrome-plated Centurions were heavily armed, and would carry out their assignment with precision. They were traveling south over the province of Alberta , Canada and had yet to arouse any suspicions. Cylon stealth technology, much like their propulsion systems were more advanced than the Earth-Colonial technology.
9:27 am Pacific Standard Time. Groom Lake Airbase .
Matthew Lensherr had just finished feeding James his breakfast while his wife, pregnant with their second child “slept in.” The child bore a strong resemblance to him, but had his mother's eyes. The boy was never sick, and perpetually happy, Matthew Lensherr often thought about this child's future. He was the product of human and Cylon parents, he was important. Military and civilian medical doctors routinely ran tests on James, and the findings filled volumes of binders. Glancing at the clock he smiled, his good friend would soon be here.
“Good morning Matthew.” The soothing voice of his wife filled his ears, soft and melodic. It betrayed the lethality of the woman-machine before him. She looked beautiful, and even pregnant she surpassed the physical fitness of any human female. She came over and hugged her son who became very excited at seeing her. She then reached over and kissed her husband. Staring deeply into her green eyes, Lensherr gave silent thanks to the Gods for her, even if she was once the enemy of humanity. As far as he was concerned, she made up for that long ago.
“Nightstalker is inbound. We'll go pick him up at Base camp Airfield after we finish up the morning's activities.” Base camp Airfield was a civilian airport in Warm Springs , Nevada that was originally used as an emergency airfield for the Groom Lake facility in 1971. D'Anna always liked Mark Sarnex, and knew that her husband loved the man like a brother. He was always happy when around his friend, and their separation due to individual reassignments seemed to leave a void in her husband. A visit from him was well timed.
FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:
I should have known that they would not give up so easily, like a cancer that does not get properly treated it keeps coming back. The Cylons have returned from a two- year abeyance, and I fear that this was a prelude to future hostilities. It is the opinion of my senior staff, as well as my own, that the Cylons were testing our defenses to see if we were able to make our “Cylon Virus” portable. If so, I fear we have all but confirmed that we have not. If this is the case, it should be assumed that the Cylon fleet would not be far away. Four Battlestars and now six destroyers will not be enough against the combined might of the Cylon armada.
The new Earth Defense Command is at a gross disadvantage due to a shortage of qualified personnel to staff a fully functional space fleet. We do not have the luxury of twelve planets to provide our manpower. We will adapt, improvise and overcome these obstacles however. The Colonies of Kobol have been reunited and as long as I draw breath, nothing will ever tear them asunder.
The Stealth Heavy Raider was now properly concealed from prying eyes about a half mile from the main road leading to the Groom Lake facility. The plan was to gain access to a large transport vehicle that would allow for safe movement and conceal the Centurions from sight. Sharon had shed her light jacket and wore a tank top and tight-fitting jeans. She stood in the breakdown lane, staring down the oncoming lane. In the distance, she spotted what she was looking for. A large cube truck appeared, large enough to hold them and three of the Centurions. The fourth Centurion remained at the Raider location to protect it. The sweat glistened off her exposed chest and shoulders, and she flagged down the truck when it got to within 200 yards of her. The truck slowed and pulled over to a stop 50 yards past her. Sharon jogged over to the driver's door and stepped up onto the running board.
The truck driver was a large bald, middle-aged man sporting a goatee and numerous tattoos on his large arms and the side of his neck. He scoped out the young, petite woman before him with a sinister smile spread across his cruel lips. “You're a long way from nowhere sweetheart, what the hell are you doing out here?” he asked as he obviously was mentally undressing her.
“My transportation broke down; I really could use a lift.” Replied Sharon , her eyes wide with a slight pout on her lips. Her arms were leaning on the top of the driver's door; she had strategically placed them in a way that would push up her breasts, causing maximum cleavage. The truck driver was making no effort to hide leering at her breasts, and after a few moments finally spoke up.
“I'll give you a ride, babe, in fact it'll probably turn out to be the ride of your life. Unfortunately I ain't no taxi service, you want a ride you're going to pay for it…and I don't need money!” Sharon smiled, and hopped down from the running board. The door opened and out stepped the driver, he towered over the smaller woman before him.
“You name the price, and I'll gladly pay it.” Cooed Sharon . The man stepped closer and grabbed Sharon by the waist, pulling her in close. He bent down and kissed her roughly, his hands fondling her. His breath stank of tobacco and whiskey, the kiss felt like steel scraping against marble, a repulsive specimen of humanity she thought. She endured him no longer. One hand reached up, grabbing the man by the throat, the other hand reached towards his groin, the grip of both hands was like a steel vise, the driver's eyes widened and he inhaled deeply in pain. The driver felt a sharp pain to his groin, then a white-hot searing and then warmth. The young woman held his now-detached manhood in her delicate hand; she held it aloft for him to see.
“You slant-eyed witch…” he screamed, voice cracked and no full of fear. The hand around his throat tightened, and he lashed out in defense. The huge fist caught her full in the jaw, and any hope that this little Asian woman would release him was now lost as she slowly turned her head back to him smiling. That punch should have knocked her unconscious if not outright killed her. Instead it only served to make her feel alive, and with lightning speed she jammed the severed member and ripped scrap of denim deep into his mouth, knocking his front upper and lower teeth back into his throat. He dropped to his knees, a look of horror now visible upon his cruel face. Sharon pulled her free hand back in the form of a spear-finger strike; the speed in which she struck was a blur, he straight fingers burying themselves deep within his skull, death was instantaneous. She released his throat and let him drop to the ground. Looking around, she signaled a Centurion to approach from its covered position and remove the body from the side of the road.
“All set!” she called out to her comrades. Leoben walked out from his concealed position smiling.
“Very nice Sharon . In all honesty I didn't think you had it in you.”
“Don't underestimate this model Leoben; it would not be in your best interest.” Replied Sharon as she wiped the blood and brain matter from her hands. Replacing her shoulder harness and light jacket, she retrieved the keys and opened the locked rear compartment of the truck. It contained large boxes labeled Whirlpool Washing Machines that the three Centurions lifted easily and removed from the truck, depositing them with the body of the dead truck driver behind a rock formation on the side of the road.
Within minutes, the humanoid Cylons and their metallic brethren were safely aboard and traveling down the highway towards Groom Lake . Doral held a medium-sized device that was tracking a known Cylon in the area. D'Anna Biers was their prey.
The plane had touched down twenty minutes earlier, and Mark Sarnex was exiting the enclosed gangway with his carry on slung over his shoulder. Scanning the terminal's immediate area, he spotted what he was looking for instantly. A smile spread across his face.
Matt Lensherr stood with his hands on his hips, D'Anna who was early in her pregnancy looked radiant standing at his side, and young James stood between them. “Welcome to Nevada !” said Lensherr as he walked over with his hand extended. The two shook hands, and Mark Sarnex turned to embrace D'Anna. Her green eyes shone brilliantly, and her physique barely revealed any hint of pregnancy. He leaned down and scooped up the toddler at his feet. The boy giggled and Sarnex playfully messed up his neatly groomed hair.
“Sweet Lords of Kobol young James has gotten big!” exclaimed Sarnex as he placed the boy on his shoulders. “The boy comes from superior stock Hephaestus…good thing he has his mother's looks though.” Joked Sarnex as they made their way for the exit
“Good to see you Mark, I trust your visit to the East coast was a memorable one?” said D'Anna, a sinister smile spread across her face.
“I have no complaints oh fair one! I have an all new appreciation for Earth women.” He replied with a wink. The four soon were exiting the airport premises in Lensherr's EDF-issued all- terrain vehicle and making their way back to the Groom Lake facility. The trip consisted primarily of small talk about Mark's east coast trip and other elements of his shore leave. The small talk soon turned towards business.
“I'm hearing things in the rumor mill Mark.” said Lensherr flatly.
“Such as?” responded Sarnex, knowing this would eventually come up.
“I hear that you have been offered a position in EDF's newly created Intelligence Directorate. The External Operations Division to be precise.”
“You don't miss much my friend. As much as I enjoy the cockpit of a viper, and commanding my own strike squadron aboard Terra-1, Intelligence is my first love.”
“It's an important division, and the opportunity to cultivate it in its infancy I'm sure is overly compelling.” Replied Lensherr.
“Serving under Tigh aboard a brand new Battlestar is a great opportunity, but the fleet has plenty of viper jocks, what they don't have is qualified Intel specialists of my caliber.” Said Sarnex. Lensherr turned his head towards him unsure if this was Mark's usual level of humility shining through, or if he truly meant it.
Lensherr's cell phone chirped, and the conversation was temporarily put on hold. “Lensherr!” he answered. His eyes widened, and he glanced at Sarnex. “Alright, I'm 30 minutes out.” He terminated the call and placed the phone in the holder that was attached to the dashboard.
“What's going on Matt?” asked Sarnex. He knew Lensherr long enough to know that the call was important.
“GALACTICA was attacked just beyond Pluto. There were no specifics, but the entire system has been placed on alert, all shore leaves have been cancelled and personnel recalled to their stations.” Sarnex glanced down at his cell phone, the battery was still dead.
“Cylons?” asked D'Anna, knowing the answer.
“Yes, I just don't know what happened. We need to get back to the base and find out what's happening; this could be a prelude to an all out attack.” Replied Lensherr.
“The virus will protect us.” Said D'Anna.
“Yes, Earth itself is safe providing they have not developed a defense to it, but our Pluto and lunar bases, as well as our fleets may not be if confronted by a superior attack force.” The blinding light, and subsequent explosion jarred the vehicle violently, Lensherr fought to maintain control. Smoke was billowing from the hood, and the sound of the crumpled metal fender rubbing up against the radial tire on the passenger side front was evident. Thick acrid smoke filled the interior of the vehicle.
“What the frak was that?” yelled Sarnex as he braced himself. The front right tire blew then shredded making Lensherr's work that much harder. James cried out, and D'Anna wrapped her arms around him. Her eyes scanned the exterior surroundings looking for the threat. A sickening whine and grotesque thumping filled their ears as the vehicle started to slow. Another two hundred yards and the engine coughed and sputtered, they came to an abrupt stop on the side of the road near a rock outcropping.
“Is everyone okay?” yelled Lensherr as he looked over his shoulder towards his family. D'Anna nodded in the affirmative, and Sarnex replied that he was okay. “We need to get out of vehicle, no telling what will happen next while we're sitting here defenseless. He grabbed his cell phone and jumped out of the truck. Yanking open the rear door he helped James out of his car seat. D'Anna was out quickly, and scanning the surrounding areas.
“Mark, in the trunk is a black nylon EDF bag, grab it quickly and let's get away from the truck, it's only a target now for whatever is out there.” The four quickly made their way from the disabled and now burning EDF-issued vehicle. They headed for rocky terrain and Lensherr carried his son as D'Anna easily kept pace with the two men.
“That was obviously an RPG Matt. We've heard enough of those to know one when we hear it.” Said Mark.
“But where the hell did it come from, and who fired it?”
“Centurions!” shouted D'Anna. She pointed down the roadway to a ridge a half mile away. Her cybernetic eyes easily detected the chrome glint of the attackers that the unaided human eye could not.
“Mark, the bag…give it to me.” Said Lensherr as he came to a complete stop, putting James down on the ground. Sarnex threw the medium sized bag towards Lensherr. Unzipping it, he reached in and retrieved an assault rifle. He tossed it to the waiting hands of Nightstalker who quickly inserted the live magazine that was also tossed to him. Lensherr pulled out a set of field glasses and started looking down range in the direction D'Anna had pointed. He adjusted the magnification and frowned.
“Frak! Three toasters…heavily armed and five skin jobs, range of half a click. They're on the move.” He handed D'Anna the field glasses and again picked up James. “Let's head for the high ground, it'll give us a better tactical position.”
“It's too convenient them finding us here, obviously they are tracking me.” Said D'Anna.
Lensherr flipped open his cell phone and punched in a series of numbers, after a pause he spoke. “This is Lensherr; my vehicle has been attacked and disabled enroute to the base, the attackers are heavily-armed Cylon Centurions, a total of eight…three mechanical and five humanoid models. We're in the vicinity of mile marker 22 straight out of Base camp Airfield…requesting immediate airborne assistance.”
He snapped shut the phone and turned towards Sarnex. “They're launching a Raptor and mobilizing the Marine unit. At best they're 15 minutes out; we'll have to take cover.”
“One rifle and four thirty-round magazines won't be enough to fight them off.” Said Sarnex solemnly.
“We won't need to fight them, just hold them off until the help arrives. I've drilled it into every viper pilot that ever fell under my command that short, controlled, accurate bursts are the preferred offense. Just make sure you use those 120 rounds wisely, the Centurions are the primary threat.”
Sarnex took cover behind a stone formation and looked in the direction of their pursuers. They were gaining ground, and did not tire. They stopped at the fork to scan the horizon for their prey. Sarnex zeroed his weapon on the visor of the lead centurion and squeezed off a three-round burst striking it directly in its optical scanner. The Centurion staggered back, sparks shooting off its head. The two other Centurions zeroed in on the location of the shot using their audio receptors and saw the muzzle of the barrel perched up on the stone. They fired instantly, the rounds striking Sarnex's stone cover, sending fragments in all locations. One stone fragment caught Sarnex under the chin drawing blood.
“I've clipped one…still operational but I doubt it'll be as effective with its optics offline.” Said Sarnex as he rejoined Lensherr's family. An explosion occurred a dozen yards behind them; they were launching RPG's in Sarnex's last location.
“Let's keep going, I want to make that ridge at two o'clock.” Said Lensherr pointing to his right at a large ridge.
“Lots of open space between here and there Hephaestus!” said Mark.
“No choice Nightstalker, they're traveling faster than we are, and don't tire.”
Leoben had easily scaled the rock formation before him; the Centurions would have to go around it. He scanned the area before him intensely. Sharon was soon at his side, and Doral and Simon were right behind them.
“Centurion 271 is operating on acoustics only and is useless to us at this point. The initial attack should have produced a better result.” Complained Leoben.
“Perhaps you should not have sent a Centurion to do a Cylon job.” Quipped Sharon . Leoben looked at her with an arched eyebrow. He moved forward, leaping over small formations and scaling the rock walls that separated them from their prey. The sun was blisteringly hot, and while he and his fellow Cylons were unaffected by it, the human prey he pursued were not. The two humans were slowing down, feeling fatigued. They would soon be upon them.
Lensherr had reached the base of the ridge, it was a difficult climb, and he could not do it while still holding James. D'Anna was right behind him, and he was amazed at her stamina; even pregnant she was in twice the shape he was. Mark had dropped back to a large outcropping of rock in order to provide cover.
“D'Anna, you need to get up there, I won't be able to navigate that ledge with James, but if you can get atop it I can hand him off to you. Her arms reached up for a handhold, and she pulled herself up effortlessly. Her arms were not big, but they were muscular. He placed James on his shoulders and told him to wrap his arms tightly around his neck. James was young, but understood what his father was telling him to do. He was remarkably calm throughout the ordeal; Lensherr attributed it to his Cylon side. He started to climb the formation, and unlike his Cylon wife, he did not negotiate it effortlessly. He was breathing hard, and he felt like his lungs were going to explode.
Sarnex caught a glimpse of movement about 80 yards to his left and low. Leoben had already moved from sight. The sweat was dripping down into his eyes, and in the time it took to wipe it away, he had missed Sharon coming into the kill zone. He focused intently and waited a moment. The Gods were smiling upon him; Aaron Doral's head now appeared from behind a rock, scanning the area. The rifle was not equipped with a laser sight, but at this range, a conventional scope worked just as well. He lined up his shot and squeezed the trigger. The single round entered through Doral's left eye, and what passed for his brain exited through the back of his skull. The smile on Mark Sarnex's face was short lived as his cover took a hail of gunfire from the Centurions that now emerged from the valley. He shouldered the rifle and took evasive action, sand and rock spit up all around him as the Centurions fired upon him. He dove headlong over a long boulder that was about four feet high. He recovered and positioned the rifle on its flat surface. The lead Centurion was 40 yards and closing fast. He fired off three round bursts that staggered, but did not stop the approaching killing machine. He emptied his magazine into the Centurion's head and ducked to reload. The shadow looming over him indicated that his time had run out, he rolled and fired blindly. Another magazine emptied into another Centurion. The monstrosity dropped to the ground, its weapon aimed straight at Sarnex. He shut his eyes in anticipation of certain death; the only sound he heard was loud clicking. The Centurion's weapon was malfunctioning, and its extremities were flailing uncontrollably.
With weapon firmly in hand he took stock of his surroundings, D'Anna and James were safely in place on the high ridge, but Lensherr was nowhere to be found. The distraction cost him; he felt the rifle yanked violently from his hands. His finger was bent backwards in the trigger guard and he not only felt the bone break, but also heard the snap loudly. Through the white-hot pain, he saw Simon standing above him. The tall black man was not considered a fearsome killer, he considered himself a scientist first, but was more than capable of killing a human. Sarnex lashed out with a devastating kick to Simon's solar plexus hoping to give himself some breathing room. Too slow, Simon caught his heel and twisted it until the cartilage in Mark's knee tore. He cried out, the pain was immense.
“Don't feel too bad human, you disabled two Centurions and killed Doral. Unfortunately your luck ran out.” Said Simon almost apologetically. He reached down and pulled Sarnex up by his neck, the Cylon's strength was incredible. He could feel the fingers closing around his windpipe like a steel vise. The splattering of warm fluid on his cheek startled him, touching his face he looked at the blood on his fingertips. Simon's vise-like grip lessened and Mark was able to wrench himself free. He dropped to his knees in agony. Simon looked surprised; he slowly turned around to face Matthew Lensherr who was wielding the rifle like a club. Sarnex could see the hideous blood-soaked blunt-trauma to the back of Simon's skull. The back of his shirt soaked in blood. Lensherr could not risk shooting Simon with Sarnex so close, so instead he put all his might into the swing and did his best to cave in the Cylon's skull.
“Not…hard…enough!” said Simon as he closed the gap between them. Lensherr swung the business end of the rifle around quickly and fired blindly. The rounds stitched Simon from groin to face; the blood spattering at such close range was messy. In the time it took for him to wipe Simon's blood from his face Lensherr was struck hard from behind. The rifle clattered off a large rock, the stock cracking in two. The wind was completely knocked from his lungs and Lensherr slid on his face across the gravel coming to a stop at the mechanized torso of the Centurion that Mark incapacitated earlier. His face burned and he spat out the taste of dirt and gravel as he attempted to suck in air.
“Captain Lensherr, I have suffered interference from you for the last time.” Said Leoben smiling. He circled the downed human like a predator circles wounded prey. A smile spread across his face as he bent down. He grabbed a handful of Lensherr's hair and pulled his head up off the ground to stare straight into his eyes. “After I kill you I will tend to the traitorous whore that bore you the half breed. She will suffer horribly before being boxed I assure you.” Unlike the movies, Leoben's threat did not instill newfound strength and resolve into Lensherr, who was desperately trying to fill his lungs with precious air. Each inhale produced excruciating pain to his back indicating rib damage. Leoben lifted Lensherr effortlessly and threw him against a rock formation. The impact shattered two ribs and resulted in a concussion. Lensherr knew he was fading fast, and his thoughts turned to D'Anna and James. He knew the end was near for Mark and himself. Mark saw Leoben move in for the kill, he was within a few feet from the damaged rifle and saw an opening. With great effort, he dragged himself close to the rifle, he lunged for it and with extreme effort, he rolled over and pointed the rifle towards Leoben with his opposite hands. The broken trigger finger was at an obscene angle and with great effort, Mark got off two shots; one striking Leoben in the shoulder, the other a clean miss.
An enraged Leoben kicked the rifle from Mark's hands well out of range. He picked up the battered Sarnex and snapped his arm. Sarnex never felt his body hit the ground; the pain was so intense that he had immediately blacked out. By this time Lensherr had made it to his hands and knees and was attempting to crawl to a nearby boulder to help get to his feet.
D'Anna held James closely; outside of Matthew, she had never felt such intense feelings of love and protection. James had her green eyes, and his father's nose and lips, a beautiful combination she always thought.
“A beautiful child D'Anna, he is our future!” came the voice of Sharon . She appeared a few short meters away from them. D'Anna leapt to her feet, shielding her son. Sharon 's eyes immediately fell upon D'Anna's belly. “Another child!” she whispered.
“You should have left Earth alone when you had the chance Sharon . The madness must end; you of all people know this.”
“I know no such thing traitor. Rest assured that this model lacks the defects of all the other Sharon models. You will be returned where you belong, your offspring studied and this miserable mud ball of a planet incinerated along with every human vermin on it!” Sharon was smaller than D'Anna was, but she was not pregnant and moved with blinding speed towards James. Sharon had not anticipated the human nature of a mother protecting her child; and was genuinely surprised when D'Anna had clamped down on her shoulder with an incredible strength. Her emerald eyes blazed a seething, murderous rage as she spun Sharon around towards her.
Sharon attempted to break the hold and found that she could not, with blinding speed she head-butted D'Anna who staggered back towards the ledge. She reached out and was able to grab Sharon by the shoulder harness of her still-holstered weapon. They were forty feet above the ground and the momentum took them both off it. With great effort D'Anna was able to spin Sharon beneath her, they both landed with a sickening thud on the rocky ground below. Sharon took the brunt of the fall, and her body cushioned D'Anna's from the impact. The pain was incredible thought D'Anna as she cradled her stomach, Sharon was twitching, and her lips trembled as she attempted to speak.
“Traitor…your…time…has come to…close!” gasped Sharon , as she was able to roll to her side with the utmost effort. D'Anna had enough, a helmet sized jagged rock was within reach and she grabbed it, lifting it high.
“The moment you threatened my son you signed your own death warrant.” Spat D'Anna as she brought the rock down hard on the side of Sharon 's skull. Repeatedly she struck with a strength she forgot she possessed. When she finally regained her composure, she tossed the blood soaked rock aside. Sharon Valerie lay dead before her, the once attractive face battered unrecognizable. D'Anna Biers lay on her back momentarily, the pain in her stomach incredible and she feared for the unborn child within her.
Lensherr's head was pounding, and his vision blurred. His hands were soaked with the blood that was escaping from the laceration on the back of his head. He felt as if he would vomit at any moment. He knew he was concussed, and knew that Leoben was moving in for the kill. Escape was impossible, and even without a concussion and numerous cracked or broken ribs he was no match for Leoben Conoy in hand to hand combat. He never saw the fist that struck him, he did however, feel his jaw shatter. This was it! Lying on his side, he saw the humanoid-Cylon approaching, and his last thought was that D'Anna and James were able to escape. Leoben had stopped at the lifeless husk of the Centurion, reaching down he took hold of the arm. With an incredible display of strength, he ripped the mechanized arm from the torso and advanced on the broken body of Matthew Lensherr. His last image was of Leoben holding the Cylon's severed arm high above his head, preparing to bludgeon him unto death. The shot that rang out was the last thing Matthew Lensherr heard before slipping into sweet unconsciousness.
CHAPTER 24
The feeling of warmth was soothing, like floating on the surface of a warm stream as the brilliant rays of the sun bathed your body. The voices were low, and unintelligible yet strong and reassuring. Matthew Lensherr felt as he was gliding along the solar winds of the cosmos, with the vaguest memories of pain, fear, and great concern. The bright lights bathing him soon darkened as he slipped deep into the abyss of unconsciousness.
“Mrs. Lensherr you really should not be walking around right now, please let the medics place you on a stretcher and get you aboard the evac raptor.” Asked the medical corpsman earnestly.
“Thank you corpsman, but I prefer to walk on my own two feet. Please focus your attention on my husband,” replied D'Anna as she held James closely. Matthew Lensherr was strapped to a medical litter and carried by two Navy medics towards one of several Raptors dispatched from Groom Lake upon Lensherr's distress call. The intravenous lines were replacing lost fluids and a heavy dosage of Versed substituted for morphine that had been ruled out due to his head injury. Heavily armed Marines scoured the area and the dead and destroyed Cylons collected and prepared for transport back to the base for closer scrutiny.
Mark Sarnex was still unconscious when he was packaged up for transport, his injuries were serious, and D'Anna stopped at his side to brush aside a blood-soaked loch of hair from his face.
The flight back to Groom Lake was quicker than expected. Within a half hour of landing both Lensherr and Sarnex were rushed to emergency surgery. Over the next six hours, a shattered knee, broken ribs, a broken arm and finger as well as a serious concussion was tended to. D'Anna's OBGYN had run a complete check up on her, and there appeared to be no serious trauma to D'Anna or the baby she carried due to the forty-foot fall. Cylon physiology was quite sturdy, and she was released.
General Peter McAllister had stopped by the base infirmary to check on his two wounded officers. After exchanging pleasantries, he was sitting with D'Anna in Lensherr's recovery room.
“Have you found it, General?”
“Yes, our satellites were unable to locate it, but a painstaking low-flying search grid by over a dozen Raptors finally located it. You were correct; they did leave a Centurion to guard it. Per your suggestion we did not approach the Heavy Raider for fear of the Centurion self-destructing it.”
“You will not have much time, depending on how far away the Basestar is it will take time for Leoben and the others to resurrect, if they even can. That Heavy Raider most assuredly approached Earth in a stealth mode, and it is quite possible that the Basestar could follow the same path and appear in orbit without warning. Before we could activate the virus they could rain nuclear warheads down on the surface.” Said D'Anna.
“The Basestars must not be allowed to get within launch range of the planet. The GALACTICA and her battle group are on station near Pluto, Colonel Tigh's battle group is preparing to jump to their location on my orders.”
“With luck the Centurion will not have been reprogrammed regarding my model's status. If I can approach the Heavy Raider without being attacked, I can access the command console and ascertain the whereabouts of the Cylon fleet that had attacked GALACTICA. They were expecting Leoben to return with my child and me, so the return jump coordinates will be programmed into the navigational computer.”
“At that point you will retrieve the coordinates and relay them to us, where we in turn will transmit them to Adama where he can jump in and launch an attack.” Replied McAllister.
“Yes.”
“Tell me D'Anna…what made you turn on your own people?” asked McAllister.
D'Anna sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the question. “General I had taken part in the attempted genocide of the human race. Our attack on the twelve colonies was one of ignorance, fear and retribution that spanned many decades of time. Many Cylons feel that we must eradicate humanity before they do the same to us out of revenge. There are twelve human model Cylons, only seven are known. I have my suspicions that one or two models may know the identities of the final five, but doubt I will ever learn the truth from them. There are countless Cylons of various models who have doubts about the human question, most remain silent and observe; I suspect some may even be waiting for the proper time to speak out or act. I have always had doubts about our decision to attack the Colonies, and had even greater doubt about the wisdom of genocide. Falling in love with Matthew, spending all of that time on GALACTICA in search of Earth, and bearing a half human child had opened my heart and eyes. Human and Cylon can live in peace…it is possible.”
“So why help us set them up?”
“Leoben Conoy is more Prophet than Dictator; he was never this fanatical about human eradication. I believe this copy is a bit of a rogue, and downloaded close by after his destruction at the hands of the virus two years ago. How he was able to accomplish that I have no answer for, but what I do know is that this incarnation must be stopped here and now. If Adama is correct, and there are only two Basestars than we need to destroy them immediately, otherwise they will escape and bring reinforcements. Eventually they will find a way to circumvent the virus defense, and then it will truly be Ragnarok…the destruction of mankind.”
“A Marine sniper team will position themselves near the Cylon Raider, if that Centurion so much as even blinks the wrong way at you we'll take him out!”
“My son's nanny has arrived, and I am ready. We have to move fast otherwise there is a chance that the Centurion will have been programmed to self-destruct or return to the Basestar if the recon team fails to return after a certain time period.”
“I will brief Adama and Tigh and await your transmission with the coordinates. Good luck D'Anna…and thank you.” McAllister stood, shook her hand gently and departed. Casting a final glance at her husband, she bent over and gently kissed his forehead. Lensherr was still under the anesthetic, and would be out for some time. She quickly left the room.
Aboard the GALACTICA, Adama had terminated the transmission from Earth Command. “Captain Gaeta, locate the executive officer and CAG, I want them summoned to CIC immediately.” Ordered Adama.
“Aye sir.”
Within fifteen minutes, both officers appeared before Adama, it took less than five minutes to inform them of the content of the three party communiqué between EDF command Tigh and himself.
“Holy Frak!” That was the only thing the CAG was able to say when Adama was finished. “It's about time we took the fight to these toasters!”
“Then I trust your attack wings will be ready when the time comes.” Said Adama.
“Yes sir, I'll see to it that all squadrons are prepped and ready for take off.” Major Thrace saluted and left the CIC. Adama now turned to his XO.
“Lee, we need to disable the Basestar's FTL's with the opening salvos as soon as we clear the jump. No room for error, those ships must not be able to jump away!”
“Understood Admiral, I'll coordinate the attack plans with each XO from the other three Battlestars. “Those chrome plated frakers aren't going anywhere.” Exclaimed Apollo.
D'Anna slowly walked towards the front of the Raider. The main hatch was wide open, and as she predicted, a heavily armed Centurion stood guard. The Centurion's head quickly rotated in her direction, the red optical scanner sizing up and identifying the intruder. The duel gun barrels that had initially leveled at her retracted into their housings and were replaced by the long taloned hands that dropped to each side of the Centurion.
She calmly walked past the Centurion and entered the dim cabin. Sitting down at the command console, she felt strangely at home. Within seconds, she had ascertained the return jump coordinates to the Basestars and pulled a device from her pocket. She extended a small antenna and punched in a series of long numbers, after a short pause she pushed the transmit button. The coordinates were immediately sent to an orbiting satellite and relayed to EDF headquarters. It was now McAllister's turn to act.
Gina stood by the tank of the Hybrid, she found herself coming here often, most of the time when she felt unsettled and confused. Soon the recon team would return with the hybrid child, and possibly D'Anna herself. What then? Clearly, Leoben hated the Three Model, and was instrumental in seeing her entire series boxed. The Stealth Raider had another 24 hours to arrive before considered late. They were positioned well out of resurrection range, and the only way the recon team was returning was by way of the Raider. She stared deep into the vacant eyes of the hybrid who continued to spout incomprehensible gibberish. She stood up and walked to the Command and Control center.
Upon entering, she had inquired with another Six Model on the status of the two addition Basestars she had summoned.
“The message was sent, but it is unknown if it has even reached the nearest Basestar.” This left Gina unsettled; they were far away from the nearest Cylon outpost, at least twenty hyperlight jumps. Her fears were confirmed with the sudden appearance of Colonial Battlestars that had jumped well into attack range of the Basestar. Before them was the mighty Battlestar GALACTICA, an antiquated relic of a warship compared to the ship she stood upon, but in their last encounter she was able to inflict significant damage to her ship. Her eyes widened in horror as a Doral model warned of incoming missiles. At least forty missiles from GALACTICA and the smaller Mercury Class Battlestar accompanying her streaked towards them. They were taken completely by surprise. The impact threw Gina violently to the floor, a small gash opened up above her left eye.
“Their attack has disabled our Faster than Light drive!” warned Doral, his voice rising substantially.
Aboard Terra-1, Commander Tigh had unleashed a devastating salvo on his assigned Basestar. The Battlestar Polaris and their escorts rained missile after missile upon pre-selected coordinates. Major Ken Antreides of Red Lancer squadron had led the main Viper force from Terra-1 and the Polaris. The vipers launched the moment they cleared from the jump. For once, they would be on equal terms with the biomechanical raiders (who did not have to report to their ships to launch) in terms of immediate launching.
“All wings-Vampire, broken formation…kill anything that moves people! Leave the Basestars to the big boys.”
Starbuck was strapped into her Mark VII and was leading GALACTICA's Viper wing. Twelve Raptors were airborne, and moving into their assigned positions. This was the first time in recent history that vipers outnumbered raiders, and it was not long before the raiders were launched to intercept. The battle commenced.
Aboard Terra-1. “Commander Tigh, incoming missiles!”
“Point defense turrets…execute!” ordered Tigh. “Weapons…concentrate the forward batteries on their center axis.” Terra-1 moved in close, taking a fierce counter attack from the wounded Basestar. She suffered a forced decompression along the bottom of the port flight pod along three sections. The Destroyer Aerelon moved in under the Battlestar and gave covering fire to protect the exposed flight pod from further missile attack. The massive Battlestar Polaris had unleashed a devastating barrage of heavy cannon fire from her main batteries. The Basestar was on the ropes, yet continued to counterattack.
Vipers and raiders swarmed about each other, the cannon-fire of deadly shrapnel filled the skies as the large warships lobbed missiles at each other. GALACTICA continued to pummel the larger Basestar, and Adama was determined to end this fight sooner rather than later. The attack was a complete surprise, and the propulsion systems on each enemy ship was carefully targeted and destroyed. It was only a matter of time now.
Adama watched the battle on the monitor, the viper losses were minimal, but each loss cut him like a knife, it was time to end this.
“Helm, bring us about…course 110, speed flank!” ordered the Admiral. “Captain Gaeta please inform the fleet that they are to assume their firing positions…the release of Nuclear missiles is now authorized.”
As the Earth warships altered their course, the squadron leaders ordered their wings to disengage the raiders and clear the field of battle on full thrusters. Vipers broke pursuit and peeled off to their home ship on full burn.
“Admiral, we have a firing solution on Basestar #1.” Informed the weapons officer.
“Let's end this damned thing…OPEN FIRE!” The aging Battlestar shuddered as it launched six nuclear tipped missiles towards its target. The casings on these missiles were constructed of Earth metals that were stronger than anything manufactured by the Colonies was. The Basestars not armed with small point defense turrets like the Battlestars and usually relied upon its massive raider compliment to protect it. They lost close to half of their entire raider compliment to the superior-numbered vipers and were scrambling to try to intercept the missiles. Two of the six were shot down; the four remaining missiles found their target, more than enough to destroy it.
Pilots in their vipers shielded their eyes from the nuclear blast, and the shockwave produced buffeted them violently. At the same time, that GALACTICA was firing her missiles, the other three Battlestar commanders were ordering the same. This was overkill, but nobody seemed to mind. For far too long the Cylons outnumbered and outgunned them, the satisfaction was quite sweet. What raiders the nuclear explosions did not vaporize were hunted down and destroyed by the vipers.
Admiral William Adama breathed a long sigh of relief and nodded his head to nobody in particular; the threat was neutralized. Colonel…recall the vipers, bring our people home!”
EPILOGUE
Matthew Lensherr and Mark Sarnex reclined in the transport chairs provided them by the medical staff. It had been close to two months since their injuries, and they were now enjoying the outdoors of the infirmary's Zen garden. Sarnex still had a cast on his arm, and the knee was still bandaged. The sun was setting, and the calm of the garden was better than any medication they could have been given.
“What have you decided Mark?” mumbled Lensherr, his jaw still wired.
“The injury is a ‘career-ender' Matt. My days in a viper are over.” Said Sarnex, he reached down to the small table between them and took the glass of water. After a long pull of the ice water, he placed it back down. “I had the offer from Intelligence, and I see no reason not to take it now. Being a viper jock was never my passion, and I did it because I was needed. You're training the younger generation, it's now their ball to take and run with.”
“It won't be the same without you, Nightstalker! Who the hell is going to shepard the rookies I send up to the fleet?” responded Hephaestus.
“Hotdog, Orion, Photon, Bedlam, Vampire, Starbuck, Falcon…..I mean the fraking list of talented viper pilots is longer than my manhood, but not by much!” laughed Sarnex. “What about you?”
“The training academy keeps me close to D'Anna and James, the position is mine for as long as I want it. That comes with the ‘Adama blessing' for frak's sake! I'll return to space again, for now I just want to raise a family.”
Hephaestus raised his glass to his friend. “To our health my friend! May the Gods grant us the peace we so desperately deserve! Thank you for always being there, Mark!” Sarnex nodded and raised his own glass before drinking it down. The sun had finally set!
Earth was finally at peace….but for how long.