Lest We Forgive

by Youmayaswellsayit

When the Cylons launch their assault on the Colonies, the Battlestar Vanir is preoccupied with repairing damage inflicted upon it's FTL drive by the negligence of it's Chief Engineer and resulting malfunction. They're safe, to begin with anyway.

1. Act 1

Lest We Forgive

Battlestar Vanir – Crew:

Admiral Claire Damms– CO

Colonel Jordan Samuels – XO

Major Adam Shatford – Second Officer

Captain Nathan Argeus – CAG

Junior Lieutenant Cieran Bradshaw – Tactical Officer

Chief Petty Officer Tory Howard – Communications Officer

Senior Chief Petty Officer Leona Beast – Deck Chief

Lieutenant Barry Milone – Chief Engineer

Timeline

Day 0 – Cylon surprise attack on the Twelve Colonies of Kobol.

ACT 1 – THE HAND WE'RE DEALT

== [Message Begins] ==

THIS IS THE BATTLESTAR VANIR, BSG94

ID AUTHENTICATION CODE: 447-R27

REQUESTING IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE

CURRENT STATUS:

FTL DRIVE [OFF-LINE]

LIFESUPPORT [ON-LINE]

DAMAGE CTRL [ON-LINE]

WEAPONS CTRL [ON-LINE]

NAVIGATION [OFF-LINE]

REQUESTING IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE

== [Message Ends] ==

[Combat Information Centre]

"Admiral on deck!" Announced the executive officer as the doors slid closed with the usual groan behind the ship's commanding officer.

"Sit rep," Demanded Admiral Damms, strolling forward and staring up at the DRADIS console, his eyes jumping from screen to screen examining the different aspects of the ship's status.

"FTL drive is off-line, repair crews have compiled a list of requirements and requested additional specialists, and distress signal is transmitting data and message. We received a response from Colonial Fleet Headquarters, Picon, acknowledging the distress signal – repair crews and requested resupply will arrive shortly." Explained Lieutenant Bradshaw reading off a computer tablet, a couple of finger taps later the Lieutenant continued talking.

"ETA is estimated to be in six hours for the first ships."

The Admiral rubbed the back of her head, her hand throwing her long blonde hair about. Her eyes cautiously examined DRADIS, there was nothing there except her own Vipers on Combat Air Patrol.

"Okay, notify the flight deck and the CAP that we're expecting incoming support ships. Inform the Supply Officer that we'll need spare racks for guests. I'll be in my quarters reviewing the malfunction report, have Lietenant Milone brought to my quarters, I want to discuss his report before any Court Martial paperwork gets filed." Ordered theAdmiral, stepping back and strolling round the Command and Control Station, her eyes flicking from station to station, observing the Combat Information Centre's staff.

"You have the deck Colonel."

The glass doors of the CIC rotated with the usual mechanical grinding noise, separating out from what had been a bullet-proof wall, imprinted with the Colonial Seal upon each panel, upon the middle of the three glass windows that formed the door, into a sectioned opening.

With her hands swinging loosely by her sides the Admiral walked out, her hair bouncing with each step, lacking the seriousness of its host.

The doors turned, spinning on the spot until they aligned perfectly.

The tall, muscular, brunette Executive Officer, Colonel Jordan Samuels strolled to the other side of the Command and Control Station so his back was to the glass wall. Pulling the phone hand-set out of its slot he raised it to his head.

"Brig, Combat. Transport prisoner to CO's quarters. Say again, transport prisoner to CO's quarters. Hanger Deck, prepare for inbound traffic." Said the Colonel, he heard his voice ringing throughout the Battlestar's various compartments, decks and walkways before replacing the hand-set and resuming his watch.

[Brig]

The double red doors of the hatch slid open as two marines, fully clad in body armour, laden with weapons and ammunition on various belts and with various other pockets bulging with unknown contents.

The two marines already present stepped away from their posts, flanking the central glass panel allowing the observation of the prisoner. With all four men facing the panel, a single stepped forward, pulled out a swipe card and ran it vertically through a slot mounted on the dividing steel wall between the central and right glass window.

"Identity confirmed." Announced the ship's mainframe, with a bleep and a hiss, the central glass panel slid left revealing on its edge a corrugated side to the metal frame in which it sat. The doorway now open, the marines raised their weapons in a defensive manner, directing them at the prisoner.

"Sir," The marine didn't give instruction or explanation, the brig wasn't left out from ship-wide comm. chatter. The slightly balding, short, aged man who had been sitting patiently inside the holding cell on the lower bunk of one of two bunk beds stood up, dusted off his officer's uniform and strode forward.

"Yeah I'm coming Sergeant." Grumbled the man, the Lieutenant rank pip's on his collar glistened slightly in the light as the marines escorted him out of the room, through the red double doors and down the corridor.

Navigating a labyrinth of corridors, hatches and bulkheads, the group eventually arrived at Admiral Damm's quarters. The first two marines took positions flanking the doorway, signalling the doors to open. The Lieutenant and marines stepped through the open doorway into a large spacious office with other rooms leading off the far side of it, through a separate doorway.

Stood, arms crossed, behind the desk with her back to her guests was the Admiral, four screens were embedded in the wall in front of her, each displaying different things. Shown left to right were the duty roster for the Vanir's engineering crew, maintenance logs for the last week, damage control from the master system's display – highlighting the FTL drive and engineering section in red, and a statement from the Lieutenant stood behind her, taken three days ago.

"Lieutenant Milone, do you know why you've left your cell?" Asked Admiral Damms, as she turned to face the Lieutenant and pulling back the leather chair behind the desk before settling comfortably in it and crossing one leg over the other.

"I think so Admiral, I think you want to review maintenance logs and the damage to the FTL jump drive in comparison to my statement sir."

The Admiral's plane expression twisted into a smirk.

"I know what happened Lieutenant... negligence." Admiral Damms spoke then leant back in her chair before continuing.

"You preferred to allow your subordinates to do their work unchecked, now a novice engineer was left to complete tasks without them being checked and a minor fault led to, over time, a bigger problem."

Lieutenant Milone jumped as Admiral Damms slammed her hand down on her desk.

"Vanir's fracking FTL drive is off-line! This is a Colonial Battlestar and we are stranded on patrol, because my Chief Engineer got sloppy! Now, this might be a waste of your time, but I wanted to bitch at you before sending you back to your cell. Alternatively, I got have you restrained and gagged then loaded onto a Raptor to be jumped to Picon for Court-Martial, but then that leaves the rest of us out here... in your mess," Ranted the Admiral, leaning back and softening her tone a little as she spoke.

"As soon as our FTL drive is operational, and my request is approved, we'll get you to a planet based cell. But until then, I hope we can meet your standards – and don't be surprised if you're dragged out to try and fix some of the problems your negligence caused."

The Admiral let out a long sigh, before gesturing to the marines for them to remove the Lieutenant.

"After you sir," Said the larger of the two men, gesturing towards the door.

A moment later the Admiral was left alone in her office, to further develop her report and annotate the appropriate files, prior to any legal proceedings.

[Combat Information Centre]

"DRADIS contact, Colonial transponder. It's a Raptor sir." Announced Major Shatford, the ship's second officer, reading off the DRADIS map.

"Challenge for authentication codes, then clear for landing in the port dorsal bay." Ordered the Colonel, reading off the same map he picked up the computer tablet he'd been reading off, flicking through the day's paper-work.

The order was carried out, and after a couple of moments making the appropriate security checks, the matter was no longer a CIC problem and was instead handled by the landing bay crews.

"Major, have that specialist crew escorted to the engineering section straight away. The Admiral wants FTL." Added the Colonel, taking no notice of the new arrivals he continued with his work and let his subordinates do theirs, it was the nature of things. The Admirals said what she wanted, the Colonel gave orders, the crew followed them.

"DRADIS contacts, three ships, colonial transponders. Look like our new support ships." Announced the tactical officer, five new symbols had appeared on the DRADIS map, each with a name and number, each constantly monitored for movement or change.

"We're receiving a signal sir."

The Colonel side stepped to the nearest phone hand-set, "Put it through."

== "Vanir, BSS-231, requested permission to begin scheduled supply run." ==

"BSS-231, Vanir, permission granted, begin docking procedures." Replied the Colonel over the wireless, he turned to the Major, "Supervise the resupply, I'll inform the Admiral in person."

"Aye sir."

The Colonel walked out of CIC, the glass wall opening and closing behind him as he made his way round a corner and down the corridor. Colonel Samuels had only recently been promoted to the position of Executive Officer, prior to that he was Commander Air Group aboard another Battlestar but Admiral Damms wanted fresh blood, someone completely new to command under he experienced wing, Samuels missed the cock-pit.

Eventually arriving in the Admiral's quarters he walked straight in and sat down at her desk opposite her. "They're here."

"Well that's good," Greeted the Admiral, she'd always been a lot more relaxed with her XO than anyone else, they contrasted well and so she let him off for disregarding protocol every so often. "I presume they're already at work?"

"That's right sir, I've yet to receive a report but a Raptor and five supply ships have arrived, according to the forms they're transferring excess ammunitions aboard along with the usual supplies now, I left Shatford in command." Explained Samuels, "Oh and apparently..."

The action stations klaxon sounded.

"Okay before I forget, we need to talk about your fraternisation... yes I know about you and Lieutenant Dakes, but relax, just want to talk about it."

== "Action stations, action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship, this is not a drill. Action stations, actions stations." ==

"What the frack?" Exclaimed Claire Damms, jumping out of her chair she grabbed the phone. Barely a moment had passed since she was soothing the nerves of her right hand man and now her features were hard, her expression serious and her tone of voice demanding.

"Combat, sit rep."

== "Admiral, Priority One message from Fleet Headquarters." == Replied a voice down the line, the Admiral could hear the level of apprehension in his voice, a level of fear building, riddled with confusion.

"I'm on my way," And with that she raced out of the door with her XO hot on her heels, she wasn't far off running.

The Admiral, in her fifties came running round the corner into view of CIC and as the doors opened and she stepped inside, the Colonel arrived too, following her inside. Without having to say a word, Petty Officer darted to her from their station carrying a computer tablet, on it was displayed a document, layed out like a telegram.

== [MESSAGE BEGINS] ==

PRIORITY ONE

FROM COLONIAL FLEET HEADQUARTERS

CYLON ATTACK ON 12 COLONIES UNDERWAY

HEAVY LOSSES SUSTAINED - CAP, GEM, TAU, VIR, LEO,

PURGE CNP PROGRAM - COMPROMISED

AWAIT ARRIVAL OF SURVIVORS/REFUGEES

ATTACK ON REM COLONIES CONSIDERED IMMINENT

== [MESSAGE ENDS] ==

Admiral Damms read it through several times before passing it over to Colonel Samuels, he shook his head in disbelief, rapping his fingers on the screen he dragged up and checked the message's authenticity, it couldn't be right, after forty years of peace, it just couldn't.

"Admiral, it's authentic." Commented the tactical officer, Samuels looked around the room, everyone looked broken, not knowing what to believe, not wanting to believe the message was true.

The Admiral had braced herself with her hands on the Command and Control Station in front of her, staring down at her boots with curtains of long blonde hair shielding her expression from view, she didn't feel like an Admiral, she just felt like Claire - a woman from Scorpia.

"Admiral..." Said the Colonel, if the commanding officer couldn't handle the news, the ship and crew had no hope. "Admiral Damms!"

Whipping her her back and out of her face, the Admiral straightened up, placing her hands on her hips she tried to steady herself, hide her shaking hands from the surrounding crew and officers.

"Give me ship wide." Ordered the Admiral, reaching forward and picking up the hand-set. The communications officer, Chief Petty Officer Tory Howard , nodded to the Admiral with tears in her eyes.

The Admiral's words rang out throughout the gargantuan Battlestar as she spoke so all across the ship, everyone aboard could hear her.

== "This is the Admiral, I regret to inform that a few minutes ago, we received a message informing us that a massive Cylon attack against our homeworlds is underway. The death toll is unknown, the extent of the damage is unknown, but it is reasonable to assume that within the coming hours, the colonies that have not been struck, will be. Our orders are to remain at our current location and surviving vessels will be routed here. As such, we can expect Cylon attack. Arm yourselves, stay alert and we'll get through this - we were all trained for this, we're a team, a family; and even if our families don't survive, we'll punish those who took them from us, I promise you that... Updates as we get them." ==

After replacing the hand-set the Admiral turned slowly to face her XO, "Colonel, I know you didn't want this job, but I need you to be the best damned XO possible right now."

Samuels felt a huge weight fall on his shoulders, he could see that beneath her hardened outside, his commanding officer was falling apart like everyone else, they needed to support each other for the sake of everyone else aboard.

"Yes sir." Replied Samuels, he turned to face the command and control station. "I recommend deploying three raptors, to broaden DRADIS range and tripling the CAP, I also think we should double the crew working on the FTL drive, current estimates put repair at three days. We need to half that."

"I agree, Major, double repair crews, have all technicians begin work on the CNP, triple the CAP and ready three Raptors to reinforce DRADIS. Deploy, here, here, and here." She moved her finger across the map on the station table, showing where to place their Raptors.

The Major ran back to his station, picked up a phone and began tapping instructions with one hand into the computer console whilst conveying instructions to other members of the crew.

Admiral Damms grabbed the Colonel's arm and pulled him to one side, hoping no one would hear them.

"We're at war Colonel, this is going to be messy and I need you to be able to do what's necessary, regardless of how you feel... I doubt the Fleet will survive much longer, our technicians are working on the Command Navigation Program but there's no way it got purged from all ship's on the front line in time. We may find ourselves alone out here, and that means that you may one day step up to command. Shape up." Whispered the Admiral into Samuels' ear, a knot forming in his stomach and ever tightening with each morbid clause.

"Yes sir."