*Action stations. Action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. I repeat. This is not a drill*
"DRADIS contact. A basestar just jumped in. And they're launching raiders."
Admiral Helena Cain took command of Galactica, inwardly cursing that she was now responsible for keeping this relic in one piece. If she'd had her way, she'd have sacrificed the Galactica to the Cylons, and she'd be standing comfortably in her old office on the Pegasus. Instead, Adama insisted on having his final stand, leading Apollo and the remaining Pegasus crew to their deaths. Gods damn that obstinate man. She'd lost a lot of good men at his hand and now she was stuck in command of an ill-disciplined crew on a ship that should have been dismantled for scrap years ago.
"Admiral, what are the orders?"
Snapping to attention, Cain turned to face the voice that interrupted her thoughts.
"Petty Officer Dualla, tell weapons control to prepare the guns. Fire directly at the basestar."
"Aye Sir".
Dee passed on the Admiral's orders whilst Cain turned back to watch the inbound raiders on DRADIS. Galactica's guns turned and aimed towards the imposing Cylon ship, firing a salvo of rounds.
"Report", barked Cain.
"Target hit, Sir. No new contacts on DRADIS. We seem to have disabled their launching system."
Before Cain could give further orders, the basestar fired retaliation shots at the aging battlestar. As they braced themselves against the CIC, two shots hit Galactica.
"Frak! Send out emergency teams to assess the damage."
Dee's eyes flitted across the DRADIS screen. Something wasn't right. She checked and double-checked the count. They were missing a civilian ship. Frak!
"Admiral, we're missing one of the tylium storage tankers. It must have been caught in the crossfire. Reports from the fleet indicate its hull ruptured, venting the fuel before the systems went off-line."
"At least there was no-one aboard. We can do without that fuel for now."
When the emergency teams finally managed to open the buckled armory hatch, they found Boomer lying unconscious on the floor, having been hit by falling roof debris. After clearing a path through the rubble, she was placed on a stretcher and rushed down to Doc Cottle in the sickbay. She started to come round as he checked her over, his cigarette hanging from one side of his mouth as he did so.
Frakking Cylons, thought Cottle. How many more crew were going to be injured or killed because of those damned toasters? Fortunately, Valerii was one of the lucky ones who'd be walking out of here in one piece. A mild concussion would only keep her in over-night and she'd be back on deck with the raptor crew by tomorrow morning.
Satisfied that the Junior Lieutenant was in good hands, the emergency teams carried on with the damage assessment. The only other place they found affected by the assault was Cain's quarters, which were so minimalist that nothing of value had been damaged. The door would need replacing, as would a few whiskey glasses, but Galactica had otherwise survived the attack remarkably unscathed.
They drew straws to decide who would give the Admiral the damage report. The unlucky Corporal made his way to the CIC, desperately wishing he'd had a few swigs of ambrosia to steel himself for the frustration Cain would most likely direct towards him. Saluting the Admiral, he waited for her to acknowledge his presence before pressing on with the report he'd been dreading giving.
Upon hearing the news about Valerii, Cain's cool façade cracked. She felt the rage that had been building inside her fighting to come flooding out, as her blood started pounding in her ears and her knuckles turned white where she was gripping the CIC console so tightly.
"Thank you, Corporal. Dismissed", she said through clenched teeth.
Not believing his luck, he gave a quick salute and left before Cain decided to vent the anger that emanated from her.
"Dualla, begin phase 1 of jump prep. We need to try and hold these frakkers off for as long as possible. Send out the jump co-ordinates to the rest of the fleet. And make sure they're the right ones this time."
Cain knew that was a little harsh, but they couldn't afford to lose any more civilian ships just because the communications officer frakked up. Dualla was obviously still grieving over Apollo, but this was a gods-damned war, not a pity-parade.
"Aye Sir. I've also checked the records of two ships in our space area and I'd recommend instructing them to relocate to a safer sector."
Now that was more like what she expected from the Petty Officer.
'Very well. Give the order."
"Oh, and Sir? The spot checks of the crew were conducted as requested. Everyone passed."
Good. That was one less round of disciplinary hearings she would have to attend.
"Colonial One just requested to dock. The President would like to meet with you."
Sighing and rubbing her throbbing temples, Cain assented for Laura Roslin to come aboard. Better find my best smile to put on, she grumbled to herself.
As she grudgingly made her way down to the hangar deck, Cain reminded herself that this was yet another of Adama's lasting legacies that she was now responsible for. In an ideal universe, she would have declared martial law the second she had control of Galactica. However, Tigh had tried that before and look where it got them: mutiny, marines firing on civilians, civilians fighting back and an attempt to blow up the Admiral. For some reason, the people loved this crazy, idealistic schoolteacher and there would be no peace for Cain unless she was kept in office. So she was stuck with her. And the more time she spent around the fiery redhead, the less she thought this was a bad thing. There was something intriguing about her that Cain couldn't quite pin down. Not yet, anyway.
Cain gave a strained smiled and saluted the President as she stepped off Colonial One, hoping that she looked more sincere than she felt.
"Welcome aboard, Madame President. I trust you're keeping well."
Looking the Admiral up and down, Laura Roslin decided that although there was something forced about Cain's pleasantries, she wasn't masking any hostility this time. On previous visits to the battlestar, Cain had been bristling with animosity and Roslin had been tempted to wear sunglasses to avoid the daggers being shot her way. Compared to those early encounters, the Cain greeting her today could almost be described as friendly. Almost.
"Yes, thank you Admiral. How is the crew?"
"Still adjusting to new leadership, but they're not complete disappointments. I'm afraid my office has been damaged so we'll have to conduct our meeting in weapon's control instead. You'll probably find the seating arrangements more comfortable in there anyway. It must be hard work sitting on a luxury liner all day, so I imagine you'll want to put your feet up."
That was more like the reception Roslin was anticipating.
Cain instructed the Marines outside weapons control to make sure no-one interrupted the meeting unless it was urgent.
"And by urgent, I mean someone had better be dying, or that basestar is about to attack."
"Yes Sir."
Closing the bulkhead door behind her, Cain turned to address Roslin, expecting her to be settled in the one chair occupying the room. However, the President had only taken a few steps into the room and so as Cain wheeled around, she almost collided with the shorter woman in the process. Not used to having her personal space invaded, Cain flushed slightly before regaining her composure. Roslin, suppressing a smile at Cain's reaction, took a step back to allow the Admiral some breathing room, before seating herself next to the weapons console.
Cain stood at ease in front of Roslin, trying to decipher her body language. She seemed fairly relaxed, but this definitely wasn't a social call.
"So Madame President, what is it you wanted to talk about?"
"Please, we've discussed this before, call me Laura. And I'd like to address the rather large issue of that basestar currently sitting in front of Galactica. What is your plan of action? I know I usually leave the fighting to you, but there are civilian ships in direct line of fire and they must be protected at all costs."
"I'm quite aware of the current situation, thank you Laura." The sarcasm was practically dripping from Cain's words.
"In fact, it is the reason we are holding this meeting here, rather than in my quarters. It damaged them, the armory and sent one of my raptor pilots to sickbay. It is high on my list of priorities."
"I'm sorry to hear that you're a pilot down Admiral, but that isn't the biggest problem here. I understand that a tylium storage tanker was also damaged by the basestar. The risk posed to the fleet by being in this space area is not acceptable! Either you give the order to move all civilian ships, or you destroy that Cylon monstrosity before it causes any more damage."
Cain was slightly taken aback by the President's outburst. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd been on the receiving end of a redhead's fiery temper, but there was something in the way Roslin's eyes darkened that caught her off-guard. Never one to back down from a fight, Cain stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Roslin rose from her chair, not wanting to let the young Admiral take control of the situation. Even in heels, she had to tilt her head up slightly in order to make eye contact with Cain, but she wasn't prepared to back down over a small height difference.
Cain was the first one to break the tense silence, her tone sharper than the razor knife she always carried with her.
"In case you hadn't noticed, we are at war. As far as I'm concerned, you control the civilians and I fight the enemy. Go and tell someone what to do who actually answers to you, because while I am Admiral, I will not be taking orders from anyone, let alone a schoolteacher."
Sensing that a verbal confrontation wasn't going to get her anywhere, Roslin resorted to a tactic she usually reserved for grumpy fathers at parent teacher nights; flattery.
"Admiral, I understand that I have no authority while aboard this ship and I am certainly not about to tell you how to do your job. I have no doubt that you are the best person to command the fleet and I will support any decision you make. To use your phrasing, I 'control' the civilians and the problem is, that basestar is making people feel very uncomfortable, which is making it harder to keep everyone in line. The only way we are going to win this war is for everyone to stay calm and do their jobs. I can't do that with a Cylon ship sitting directly on our doorstep. It would be beneficial, for both of us, if you were to blow that frakker to pieces."
Cain raised an eyebrow and took a small step backwards. She thought she'd gotten the measure of Roslin from the moment they had first met in Galactica's hangar deck.
"I didn't have you down as the type to rely on blatant flattery in order to get your own way. I understand why it's advantageous for me if I 'blow that frakker to pieces', but I really don't see in what way it benefits you. Care to enlighten me? But please, make it quick because I would like to evict our Cylon neighbour as soon as possible."
"Well Admiral, as soon as the basestar gets destroyed, people have faith in the leaders protecting them again. The sooner the civilians are happy, the sooner I leave you in peace, which I'm sure you'd appreciate."
You have no idea, thought Cain.
"Well seeing as it takes two people to use the weapons systems and we are the only ones in here, I suppose you'd better take the second firing key and put it in the slot in front of you, then twist it to the right."
Cain moved over to the console, inserting her key and twisting it to arm the firing system. She looked over at Roslin, giving the nod to turn the keys simultaneously. This overrode the safety mechanism, allowing Cain to fire Galactica's guns at the basestar twice. The first round caused one of the arms to breakoff and the second hit right at the heart of the Cylon ship, causing it to explode.
"Well, thank you for showing me your guns Admiral. I suppose I'd better leave you to it."
With that, Roslin walked over to the door and tried turning the wheel to unlock it but it wouldn't budge. She knew that some of the doors were a bit stiff, but maintenance usually kept the doors well oiled so she'd never had a problem before. Cain smirked slightly as she watched Roslin struggle, before moving to help her.
"You should come over here more often and make use of the gym. I'll be your sparring partner if you want to work on your arm strength."
Cain tugged on the handle, but even with her exercise routine, she couldn't get it to move. She pounded on the door and shouted for the Marines to unlock it from their side.
"Sorry Sir, we can't turn it."
Frak! Cain hit the door in anger. She walked over to the phone, but it buzzed with an incoming call before she reached it.
"What is it?" Cain spat into the receiver.
"Admiral, the raiders have regrouped and are headed back around for a second attack."
"Frakking great. That's all we need. I want every pilot out in a viper immediately."
"Yes Sir."
Roslin was still standing by the door, watching the Admiral's reaction to whatever news she'd just received. Cain turned to face her, and shrugged slightly before bringing her up to speed on the inbound raiders.
"So I'm afraid we're stuck here for a while. You might want to sit back down."
Boomer was just leaving sickbay as she heard the order for all pilots to launch in vipers immediately. She pulled on her flight suit as she hurried down to the hangar deck, trying to ignore her pounding headache. Doc Cottle had given her the all clear to fly but she knew she'd be feeling the effects of the concussion for a few days. As she climbed into a viper she looked around, still expecting to see Chief standing there, orchestrating the organised chaos. She sighed, buckling herself in to the seat. He had gone down with the Pegasus trying to get as many ships off his flight deck as possible and it just wasn't the same without him. She'd often wondered if the little glances and inside jokes between them ever extended beyond friendship, but now she'd never find out.
It had been a while since Boomer had flown a viper. She was one of the better raptor pilots, even if her landings were a little heavy sometimes, so she was an obvious choice to upgrade to viper status after so many of the flight crew were lost with the Pegasus. She was looking forward to the adrenaline rush of being accelerated down the launch tube after having grown accustomed to the vertical take off capabilities of the raptors. She saluted the deck hand and gripped the controls tighter, before being pinned against her seat by the g-force as her viper was catapulted into space.
Boomer quickly maneuvered her bird into an attacking formation with the other pilots and hoped that no-one from the CIC was tuned into her comms channel to hear her utter a string of profanities as her rage bubbled to the surface. As they approached a group of raiders, she heard the command to attack, so she dropped the viper's right wing, rolling out of formation. After some deft flying that even Starbuck would have been proud of, she held her viper steady behind an unsuspecting raider and hit the red button on the joystick, unleashing a barrage of ammunition from the mass accelerator canons. Wheeling away as the Cylon ship exploded, Boomer felt some of her tension drift into space along with the fragments of the destroyed raider.
Dee was keeping a watchful eye over DRADIS and relaying any developments to Cain, seeing as she was effectively blind whilst she was trapped in weapons control. Nice flying, Boomer, she thought after seeing a raider disappear from the screen. Suddenly, the alarms began blaring as a group of enemy ships jumped into their space area. Dee counted a total of 7 new contacts, including a base star and 5 raiders directly in front of Galactica and a heavy raider off the starboard bow. Frak. She grabbed the phone and punched in the number to connect directly to the Admiral.
"7 enemy ships just jumped in, Sir. We've got all vipers out and the enemy are taking losses as we speak."
"Frak me! This is the last thing we need. Keep me updated Dualla", she said as she put the receiver down.
"Bad news, Admiral?" asked Roslin.
Cain lightly pinched the bridge of her nose as she sighed and explained the situation. The President blanched slightly at the proximity of the basestar to Galactica, but other than that, her face portrayed little emotion. She was coping much better than Cain had expected her to, and the fact they hadn't argued (besides when Roslin was trying to persuade her to sit down) was nothing short of a miracle.
"I'm going to contact Baltar in the research lab, see if there's anything he can suggest to get us out of this mess."
"Really? I thought you despised the man?" asked an incredulous Roslin.
"I do, but as much as I hate to admit it, he can see solutions where others wouldn't even think to look", and with that she picked up the phone, sighing with irritation when he didn't pick up until the fifth buzz.
"Dr Baltar speaking."
"Yes, I know who it is thank you, Doctor. What I want to know is can you suggest anything to remedy our current Cylon situation?"
"Um, hello Admiral Cain. If I may ask, why are you coming to me for advice?"
"Gaius, I am not calling to inflate your overdeveloped ego. I'm stuck in weapons control and want to know if you had any strategic input. However, I'm beginning to regret that decision very rapidly."
"Yes Admiral, of course. Um, well. There's not a whole lot that can be done, except launch all the vipers and turn Galactica's guns on the enemy, but I'm sure you've already thought of both of those. Sorry."
"Urgh. Thank you for being about as useful as a unloaded pistol." Slamming down the receiver, she turned to Roslin who had been watching her with amusement. Seeing that Cain was practically seething with anger, Roslin offered a half-smile before correctly assuming that it was down to them to attack again.
Moving over to their respective weapon keys, Cain began to calm down as she programmed in the attack co-ordinates and the guns repositioned to face the basestar. Counting down from three, she signaled Roslin to turn her override key simultaneously with hers, launching the attack on the basestar.
"Dualla, report."
"All shots missed, Sir."
"Frak! You are joking, right?"
"Afraid not, Admiral. Basestar must have moved at the last second. Hold on, inbound heavy raider, Sir. It's headed directly for the ship. No radiation signature, but it's aiming for a weakness in the hull. It looks like it's on a suicide run."
"Understood. Out."
Cain strode across to the weapons console, shaking her head in disbelief. She had no idea how the attack could miss. She knew she'd put in the co-ordinates correctly and she'd calibrated the guidance systems herself, so the only explanation could be faulty ammunition or the fact the basestar moved. She set the guns to auto-lock on to the raider and nodding to Roslin, they once again fired towards an enemy ship.
"Dualla, report."
"Missed again, Sir. Plus, all raiders are now headed towards the civilian ships."
"What the frak! Get a viper to intercept immediately. I want you to look at the logs of all civilian ships and order high-value ones to move to a safer location. And tell Helo to get the FTL drive spun up. I don't want to run but we can't hold them off much longer. We need to be prepared to jump."
"Aye, Sir."
Cain rested her head against the bulkhead wall. This day could not get any worse.
"Boomer, this is Galactica. Admiral's orders are to intercept the heavy raider heading for the starboard water tanks. Do you copy?"
"Copy that Galactica." Boomer pulled away from the main fight and started playing catch up with the kamikaze troop carrier. She started to close on the Cylon ship, but she couldn't hold steady enough for the weapons systems to lock on to her target. Frak. There was only one way she was going to stop the heavy raider before it hit Galactica and it was going to hurt.
Boomer managed to draw alongside the heavy raider and as she did so, she jerked the joystick hard to the left, slamming her viper hard into the Cylon vessel. The impact caused the heavy's hull to rupture, sending it spiraling away from Galactica before bursting into flames. Alarms started sounding in Boomer's viper, signaling that the cockpit was depressurising as it spun wildly out of control. The force of the collision dislodged the comms unit in Boomer's helmet and a sharp corner dug itself into her temple. Blinking to see through the blood, she finally managed to gain enough control of her viper so that she could nurse it back to the relative safety of Galactica.
As she approached the flight deck, the other vipers received the order to return to Galactica and land immediately in preparation for the fleet jumping. Her viper must have been leaking fuel because by the time she put the nose down on the deck, the rest of the crew had caught up with her and were landing alongside her. It was just as well they were all ordered to make combat landings because the front wheel on Boomer's viper refused to leave the undercarriage and she would never have heard the end of it if she landed heavily when no-one else did.
As soon as Boomer had slid back the viper's canopy, the deck crew noticed the large amount of blood running down the inside of her visor. Without removing her helmet, they placed her on a stretcher and sent her down to the sick bay. She couldn't believe she was going to be back under Doc Cottle's care less than an hour after being discharged, but she was feeling too weak to argue.
Back up in the CIC, Dee received the news from the hangar deck that all vipers had been safely recovered and that the fleet was ready to jump on Galactica's mark. She picked up the handset to the armory and wasn't surprised when Cain answered after the first buzz.
"Is everything prepped for jump, Dualla?"
"Aye, Sir. All civilian ships have the correct jump co-ordinates and have their FTL drives spun up, waiting for our mark. All vipers are on board and we're ready to jump on your command."
"Very good. Tell Helo to jump the fleet immediately. Report back to me when we reach the new destination. Cain out."
"Hold on tight Madame President, we're about to jump," warned Cain.
"Thank you for the warning Admiral. I don't suppose you've got any ambrosia stashed in here for after the jump? I find it takes the edge off the motion sickness."
Cain walked over to a cabinet on the wall with an almost imperceptible smile on her face and unlocked it, pulling out two glasses and an unopened bottle of Scorpion Marsh Genuine ambrosia. She poured out generous measures and handed one to Roslin, just as Galactica jumped two sectors, leaving the swarm of Cylon ships behind.
"You have impeccable taste Cain. This is an expensive vintage. It's even older than I am."
Cain lent against the work console and genuinely smiled, before taking a sip of her drink. Hopefully we've lost those Cylon frakkers for the time being. Then we can get this gods-damned door fixed so I can get back to my job and Roslin can frak off back to Colonial One. Although it hasn't been as awful as I thought. Maybe our meetings won't be as tense in the future.
The buzzing of the comms system interrupted her thoughtsand she walked across to the handset, acknowledging Dualla's damage report before hanging up and finishing off her drink.
"Bad news, Admiral?" Roslin asked, slipping back into formal titles again. The look on Cain's face suggested that she wasn't in the mood for friendly conversation.
"We lost another 2 tylium tankers in the jump. They somehow still had the old co-ordinates. I'm not blaming Dualla this time. She double-checked every ship had the correct location because she knew I wouldn't tolerate her frakking up again. The tankers can't have updated their logs so as far as I'm concerned, they're on their own. We really could have done without losing more fuel when we're still so far from Kobol."
"That is unfortunate, but we might be able to find enough tylium on the journey to cover the deficit. Have another drink Admiral, there's no point staying angry when there are no Cylons for you to shoot at."
"Yes, you're right Laura," Cain said sighing, feeling the tension ease from her shoulders as she took a sip of ambrosia.
"Please don't take this personally Cain, but as much as I've enjoyed your company, I really hope they fix this door soon."
"I'll drink to that," said Cain, raising her glass.