Prologue
On the Command Base Star orbiting over the planet Caprica, Number One was feeling as close to annoyed as a Cylon could. The disappearance of Valhalla Station and the loss of a base star in that operation on top of the recent destruction of Sentinel Outpost Epsilon Alpha - in the remote Anotian Sector - meant that their trap had failed and their goal was getting further away from fruition.
Number One remembered what one of the number six models had remarked on after their occupation of Ragnar Anchorage: "If we do let them go, then one day they'll come back and take revenge". That statement made the total annihilation of the Human Race the primary necessity. True, the colonies were now under total Cylon occupation, but that wouldn't matter if any survivors could survive and have the opportunity to rebuild. Time, which had been their ally in the war, was now their enemy, along with distance.
She had gone over the most recent intelligence, but it created more questions than answers. The destroyed vipers that had been salvaged at Anotian had their tail numbers obliterated, but one of them had another identifier number that was still intact - which thanks to the acquired colonial fleet manifest - identified it as belonging to the battlestar PACIFICA. But since the PACIFICA had been fully confirmed as destroyed over Caprica, it raised the question of how it had gotten way out there. Intelligence had reported a number of fighters from destroyed ships making it to the GALACTICA when it was at Ragnar Anchorage, so it could have been one of those, but things still did not add up.
In addition, the human corpses found with the wrecked vipers bore the insignia of the GALACTICA on their flight suits, but since other intelligence sources had placed the GALACTICA well away from Anotian at the same time, it made for more confusion. Added to that, none of the corpses had their identification tags on them so using the manifest's master personnel roster was not possible either. All that was certain was that the sentinel post was destroyed by a weapon that could only be carried by a capital ship, and that the additional use of vipers meant that it could only be a warship of a battlestar or battlecruiser type.
Not counting GALACTICA, three other battlestars were still unaccounted for. The PROMETHEUS was the flagship of the Second Task Force. It was last seen over Geminon when the task force had been attacked. The ITHACA had been relegated to support duties, though still on the active (not reserve) commissioned list. It had been presumed destroyed at the fleet support docks on the Picon moon of Vestral. The PEGASUS was part of the Fifth Task Force. It had been presumed destroyed along with the fleet flagship ATLANTIA over Caprica. Of the battlecruisers, the last three - AVENGER, COURAGEOUS, and GOLIATH - had been decommissioned some weeks before the attack and had last been placed at the Tartulas, Magiddio, and Vestral fleet docks to be scrapped. However, since those facilities had been totally destroyed, there was no way to determine their final fate.
That led her to send out a general alert message to all Cylon fleet assets: DESTRUCTION OF SENTINEL OUTPOST EPSILON ALPHA IN ANOTIAN SECTOR EVALUATED AS DUE TO HOSTILE ACTION FROM HUMAN WARSHIP. INITIAL ASSESSMENT INDICATES REPEATS INDICATES BATTLESTAR TYPE WARSHIP CALLED GALACTICA RESPONSIBLE. HOWEVER THIS ASSESSMENT CONFLICTS WITH OTHER INTELLIGENCE PLACING GALACTICA IN VICINITY OF PROMAR SECTOR. THEREFORE, UNTIL CONFLICT OF INTELLIGENCE IS RECTIFIED, ASSUME OTHER UNKNOWN HUMAN WARSHIPS ACTIVE AND MAINTAIN CURRENT ALERT STATUS.
Chapter One: Recons and Redress
The raptor was surveying a system several light hours ahead of the PEGASUS. After the recent battle in the Anotian Sector, Commander Cain had decided to take a more assertive path in his efforts to locate the Battlestar GALACTICA. Partially, this was due to having to avoid various traps set in remoter regions of space such as the minefield encountered in the Optus Sector, but mainly, there had to be a more concerted effort to gain intelligence, and raw materials that could be used.
The recent attack, while a success and a boom to morale, had also signaled loud and clear to the Cylons that there was definitely a human presence out here. While Cain's little stratagem of planting human cadavers wearing GALACTICA insignia at the scene of the battle would most likely confuse the Cylons, for the moment, it meant that the pressure was still on them.
Petty Officer Jason 'Newguy' Gorde was thinking about this as he monitored the raptors autopilot. His RSO, Petty Officer Jason 'Snoopy' Dundee was busy in the rear bay monitoring his sensor platform for any anomalies. This part of the Anotian Sector had a number of star systems, judging from the readouts from Comscan's Deep Space Scanner array, so the raptors had been dispatched to various systems in order to find the least risky system to get some minerals. Their raptor - now nicknamed 'The Two Jasons' - had been dispatched to one of them.
Cain had decided to try and find some tylium and aluminum ore to stockpile - The PEGASUS had a limited refining ability for raw tylium, and the arsenal could form iron-jacketed bullets for their rail guns from aluminum. While they were not really short of these items, if an opportunity presented itself to properly stock up, then it should be taken.
"After the latest batch of scans, the system is still as dead as a corpse, Newguy", Dundee said disgustedly. He was referring to the passive sensors trying to pick up any communications.
"If that means we can find what we want without having tin-head Cylons crashing our party, Snoopy", Gorde replied, using Dundee's recently approved call-sign, "then as far as I'm concerned, that's good news".
"I think that we can start using the active sensors now", Dundee suggested. Gorde nodded.
"Okay, Snoopy", he acquiesced, "but keep the power levels to a minimum. Remember we didn't detect that Sentinel Post until we were almost on top of it".
"As if I could forget", Dundee replied. Gorde smiled. Jason Dundee was a fast learner.
Gorde waited while Dundee got the active sensor platform up and running. He was still not quite used to being the command pilot, so he was champing at the bit a little while awaiting Dundee's report.
"I'm not picking up any planets around this star, Newguy", Dundee said at last, Asome small pieces of rubble only. Looks like...!"
At that instant, Gorde's proximity alarm started to beep.
"Go silent", Gorde ordered. Dundee hit the POWER DOWN switch, killing the active sensors. Gorde powered down the engines.
With a flash of light, an FTL-exit appeared about two hundred klicks off the port bow. A second flash followed a couple of seconds after the first. Dundee used his optical scanner from his passive sensor platform.
"Oh Frakk!", Dundee exclaimed, "It's two Cylon Base Stars!".
Gorde saw the relayed picture on his sensor screen. The sinister-looking double-y shapes of the Cylon leviathans were slowly moving on sublight drive. He could see through maximum magnification that they were not deploying raiders, but they were dumping small objects. Gorde knew what they were.
"The tin-heads are laying another minefield", Gorde said, "and they chose a good spot to do it. With just rubble in this system, their disguised mines would blend right in".
"I'm picking up a lot of wireless chatter between the two base stars, Newguy", Dundee reported.
"Start recording", Gorde directed.
"I'm already on it", Dundee replied, "but this raptor does not have the decryption algorithms installed, so I can't give you any decodes".
"No worries", Gorde said, "We'll get back to the PEGASUS as soon as they get to a safe distance. The communications directorate can decode it there".
"The base stars are starting a sensor sweep of the system. What are the odds that those base stars can pick us up?", Dundee asked.
"It's a good thing they're not launching raiders", Gorde answered, "but as it stands, as long as we don't emit any EM, or change our course, we'll look like a drifting rock".
"I'm keeping my fingers crossed back here", Dundee answered, "because this ship isn't exactly a fighter".
"Even if this ship was a Peregrine, I'd think twice against taking on those base stars", Gorde commented.
"Peregrine? What's that?', Dundee wanted to know.
"It is a prototype gunship and recon platform which was designed to replace the raptor", Gorde explained, "The fleet's testing directorate were checking out the production prototypes on the eve of the war. It is a well-armed, FTL-capable attack support and scouting ship".
"Sounds like something we definitely could use out here right now", Dundee agreed, thinking about what it would be like to fly in one of those, "but how do you happen to know all about this new gunship?", he asked, "I read the military magazines and I don't recall any information about this new gunship in any of them. Besides, you were only a ROTC third-year before you joined up with us".
"Razor told me about it earlier. He was one of several raptor personnel from the fleet called in to give an independent assessment on the project It was still listed as a classified project, Snoopy. Anyway, Razor had just graduated from RTW and the powers-that be wanted to see how well a rook could check out the scanning and weapons platform on the Peregrine prototypes", Gorde explained, referring to Ensign Tyree Dutch - callsign 'Razor' - who was the pilot for the other Silver Spar Wing raptor. "Razor spent two weeks on that assignment, then he was assigned to the PEGASUS. That was two weeks before the war broke out".
Dundee nodded his understanding. Designers and engineers aside, the best judges of anything that could fly were the ones who would have to use it. And if someone fresh out of the Raptor Training wing could easily adapt to the new gunship, then it would prove to all and sundry that it was an excellent design. Well, it was all moot now, he thought. The Peregrine prototypes were more than likely destroyed with the rest of the fleet back at the Colonies.
"Keep monitoring their communications, Snoopy", Gorde reminded Dundee, "The more intelligence for Comms to keep busy with, the happier he'll be".
Dundee smiled. Captain Glen 'Comms' Sanders was a real workaholic. Hopefully, the two base stars would provide some badly needed intel. Judging from the level of ship-to-ship chatter, this should keep Sanders and the communicators busy for a while, and something interesting could come out of it.
It was while Gorde and Dundee were busy listening in on the base stars' ship-to-ship chatter that a viper pilot on board the battlestar PEGASUS was listening to chatter of another type. His name was Lt jg. Matt Higgins and he was standing at rigid attention in front of Captain Eugene Syke inside his office. The Silver Spar Wing CAG was not in a happy mood.
"I expect all my officers to set a positive example!" Syke snarled at Higgins, "So what the Frakk were you thinking of when you buzzed the port landing bay like that, and getting your wingman to follow you through?!!".
A few moments ago, the Landing Control Officer had been in this office snarling at Syke, saying "Two of your snot-nosed pilots just did a fly-by of my landing bay coming in from one end and out the other at high speed and only ten feet off the deck!". Syke noticed the coffee stain down the front of the LCO's flight suit and drew the conclusion that Higgins' stunt had scared the hell out of him during his brew drinking. The LCO continued, "I want somebody's butt, I want it now, I've had it!". The LCO then stormed out of the office and ran right into a crewman carrying another tray of coffee. Syke has to stifle a smile as the LCO screamed, "God dammit, that's twice! I want some butt!"
Now Higgins was in front of Syke, along with Ensign Vansen.
"CAG", Higgins said quietly, "You asked me to ensure that Vansen here got the message about staying close to his wingman in all flight situations, and it seemed to be a good way to verify it, given the lack of asteroids and other debris in this area". Vansen did not comment. He was still staying at rigid attention, hoping that CAG would keep his attention on Higgins.
"That's not even funny, Rogue", Syke replied, using his call-sign, "You are a hell of an instinctive pilot, but as your call-sign indicates, you're a loose cannon. You've lost your qualification as flight leader three times, been put in hack twice - by me, and as the X.O. of Spar One, you're supposed to be giving Ratchet support, not ulcers! I'd like to have both of you grounded indefinitely, but as we're rather short on pilots, I can't".
Higgins breathed a sigh of relief. Vansen followed suit.
"I had Jet here pull some admin time while his ankle healed", Syke said to Higgins, referring to Vansen, "and I'm sorely tempted to introduce you to the niceties of administrative tasks, but since you happen to be one of the best pilots in the wing, I'm going to make use of that skill of yours for something else".
Higgins looked at Syke, waiting for the axe to fall.
"As you may know, when Black Knight Wing came over to us from the PACIFICA, they also brought over several shuttles loaded with support personnel for their wing, including a dozen midshipmen flight cadets who were on TDY from the academy when the war broke out. I've spoken to Captain Voight", Syke said, referring to the CAG of Black Knight Wing, "and he agrees that these midshipmen should resume their flying training and get qualified as viper pilots as soon as possible".
Higgins did not look happy, he knew what was coming.
"Lieutenant Junior Grade Matthew Higgins", Syke said formally, "You are hereby temporarily relieved as the Executive Officer of Spar One Squadron, and appointed Training Officer for the new viper transition training flight".
"A flight instructor?", Higgins asked incredulously.
"Consider yourself lucky", Syke answered, "as the assigned instructor will now take over as temporary X.O. of Spar One while you are away".
"But I don't want to teach those snotties how to fly vipers", Higgins objected, using the popular nickname for academy midshipmen.
"Well, you'd better get used to it", Syke said, in a tone that brooked no dissent, "and if I hear that you've put even one toe out of line, you'll be flying a service shuttle loaded with treated sewerage for the next six months!"
Higgins shuddered. Flying a sewerage shuttle was one step above being permanently grounded. While as much waste as possible was recycled, there was always some waste that could not be used. Normally, it would be flushed out into space, but since Commander Cain did not want to leave any trail of refuse for Cylons to follow, limited-FTL shuttles took the waste and dumped it well away from the PEGASUS.
"Your midshipmen are waiting for you down in hangar bay five", Syke said simply, "so change out of your flight suit and report down there to teach them basic viper introduction. Dismissed".
Higgins saluted rigidly, Syke jerked his thumb towards the door in reply, and Higgins abruptly marched out. Vansen was about to follow suit, but Syke said, "Halt, Ensign". Vansen stopped and turned to face Syke.
"So, Jet", Syke said after staring at him for a full minute, "hanging around with certified maniacs, hmm?", he asked rhetorically.
Vansen did not dare reply. He had a feeling that if he opened his mouth, he would be in worse trouble.
"Rogue's grandstanding notwithstanding, you stayed close in to him all the way", Syke said offhandedly, "so your wingman qualification is officially reinstated as of now. But first, you will report to Spar One and let Ratchet know that her X.O. has been placed on TDY to train some new pilots".
Just as Vansen thought that he would be let off, Syke continued, "then you will return to Wing Administration and start working on the personnel fitness reports for the entire maintenance section. When they are completed, then you can resume normal patrol duties".
The maintenance section consisted of ninety technicians, specialists, and senior non-commissioned officers. Vansen knew that the paperwork would take some days to complete. A hell of away to celebrate his wingman qualification, he grumbled to himself. Thanks a frakking lot, Rogue!
Vansen saluted, Syke gestured to the door, and Vansen marched out.
"Rank does have it's privileges, doesn't it, Bojay?", Tricia Cain said as she walked through a side door into his office. As Tricia was Silver Spar Wing deputy CAG, her office directly abutted Syke's and she had heard everything.
"Want to join Rogue down in Bay Five, Sheba?", Syke asked her half-jokingly. Tricia made a gesture over her mouth indicating that she got the message. Syke chuckled.
"Well, I hope Matt teaches the snotties the right way to fly, Tricia", Syke said, "We can certainly use more viper pilots and I was really not looking forward to the idea of reassigning the raptor pilots to viper patrol work. Our raptor crew reserves are pretty shallow".
"I'm aware of that, Tricia. Hopefully, that bunch of petty officers Newguy got trained as RSO's will take care of that particular staff shortage", Syke replied, "But you think Rogue got the hint this time?", he asked her.
"I'll be keeping tabs on the training flight, Gene", Tricia assured Syke, "And if he does step out of line, the sewerage shuttles will be getting acquainted with a new pilot", Tricia said with a barely suppressed grin, "but he is a good pilot and if anyone can make good rooks out of snotties, it's Matt Higgins.
Syke nodded. And Higgins could consider himself fortunate. If the LCO had gone to Colonel Tolen instead of himself, it could have been far more serious. He would let Tolen know about the action taken a little later, but first...
"I'm heading up to the mess for lunch, Tricia", Syke said, "Care to join me?"
"Thought you'd never ask, Gene", Tricia replied. Nodding, Syke stood and headed out the door, with Tricia following him.
While those two were heading up the mess to eat, Higgins entered the crew dorm and started removing his flight suit. He was not at all happy about teaching midshipmen to fly vipers, but Syke was right: he could have been piloting a sewerage shuttle, if he was still flying at all.
After changing into a utility uniform - what were popularly known as the 'Class-C' uniform - he headed down to bay five. That bay was used for instruction purposes and was set up as a half-hangar, half-classroom facility, equipped with cockpit simulators and viper components. Normally, it would be used for maintenance crew trainees, but now, it would be used to get flight cadets acquainted with the Mark VII Viper. Syke had a crewman deliver a clipboard to him while he was getting changed, which held information about the persons whom he was going to teach. All had flight instruction taught to them in academy trainer craft and had soloed. So basic flight would not be needed. Still, a high-performance space-superiority fighter would be a big leap from a basic flight trainer.
After entering the bay, he saw a number of youngsters sitting in a classroom chatting to each other. Judging from the midshipman insignia on their collars, he realized that this was his class. Frakk, did they look young, he thought.
As he entered the room, one of the midshipmen called out "Attention on Deck!", nearly stopping his heart in surprise. All the midshipmen stood at rigid attention. He walked up to the front of the classroom, where an instructors desk faced the class, and stared at them for a few seconds before saying "Seats".
As the cadets sat down, Higgins sat down on top of the desk and looked them over. There were seven males and five females in total. All were aged over eighteen standard years, though some of them looked a lot younger. The midshipmen tried not to meet his eyes as he scanned their youthful faces. At last, Higgins spoke.
"I am Lieutenant jg Higgins, call-sign Rogue", he introduced himself, "and you twelve midshipmen are my training flight. I have been assigned by the CAG to introduce you to the craft that you are going to fly: the Mark VII Viper, but first, I want to make a few things clear to all of you".
The midshipmen listened intently as he spoke.
"First, this is not the academy. Standing too much on ceremonial felgercarb detracts from the purpose of turning you into viper pilots, so save it for your classes on how to be officers and gentle-persons", he said.
The midshipmen looked pleased at this statement. Time for him to bring them back down to the ground.
"Saying that, you will still address me as Lieutenant", he said, "You do not have the privilege of addressing me by my call-sign until you graduate out of this class, and you will either graduate as pilots and officers with call-signs of your own, slip up in training - in which case either you will be dead, or wish you were dead once I've finished with you, or you can quit - in which case I'm sure that Chief Krag would be delighted to have extra hands to sweep the deck".
Higgins paused to gauge the mood of the twelve trainees. Good, he had their total attention.
"You are more than likely going to hate my guts for the rest of your lives before we are half-way through the class", Higgins warned, "But don't worry if you think I'm just picking on you. I don't discriminate. At this moment in time, all of you are equally worthless to me, and the only way for you to convince me otherwise is to succeed in this crash training program. Flying a viper will take skill and instinct, and if you have the right stuff, you will do well and go back to your wing as viper pilots with shiny ensign bars on your collars and call-signs painted on your planes. But if you think that you will not be able to see this program through, please leave now and stop wasting my time".
Higgins watched the midshipmen look at each other. Some looked a little paler as Higgins' speech sank in, but no one made a move to stand up and leave. After a minute, Higgins nodded.
"Very well", he said, "Welcome to Viper transition, or in other words: how to compress twelve months of normal viper training into two fun-filled weeks". With that, he started the class. The process of turning these youths into fighter pilots had now begun.