BATTLESTAR GALACTICA IS OWNED BY UNIVERSAL STUDIOS.
Pro log
January 28, 1840
Sloop of War Vincennes
0735 hrs
Off the coast of Antarctica
"Damn, where's the wind at?" Lieutenant Charles Wilkes muttered to no one in particular, as he walked towards the bow of his ship. The Vincennes, an 18-gun sloop of war, was over 127ft long and weighed in at 700 tons. Now she sat here waiting for the slightest breeze off the coast of the most God forsaken place he had ever sailed.
What made things worse was that an Erie fog had settled in. As he walked the fog ridden decks, he quickly became aware on how deafly quiet everything was. The fog almost had a deafening effect on everything. He stopped and listened. He could barely hear a bell in the distance. The brig Porpoise, he thought.
Last reports had her off their starboard bow about two miles out. That was 4 hours ago when the wind decided to vanish and this cursed fog set in. he heard his own ships bell answer. Four bells sounded muffled even to Wilkes. Moreover, it was just fifty feet behind him on the quarterdeck. As he passed numerous men doing their various duties, he noticed that they seem overall a happy lot. Maybe it was the weather. It had been below freezing for the last 15 days and now the temperature seemed almost balmy, in comparison.
As he reached a bow, a lone figure materialized through the fog. He recognized the figure as Able Seaman Jenkins. A veteran of the Vincennes maiden voyage, Jenkins was a fine sailor with reddish brown hair and a pair of muttonchops any sailor would be proud to wear. He noticed that Jenkins was sounding, he watched as the sailor pulled up the line counting the knots. Each knot represented a fathom and a fathom equaled six feet more or less.
He continued to watch the seaman as he coiled the line. Noticing something was wrong, he approached Jenkins. Jenkins looked up and saw the Captain approaching. He stood at attention gave a crisp salute and said "Morning Captain"
Wilkes nodded in response to the salute and asked, "You have a puzzled look on your face Jenkins what's wrong?"
Jenkins scratched his head and replied, "It's these soundings captain, and I can't seem to get and accurate measurement."
Wilkes gave him a puzzled look; surely, Jenkins had enough experience to know how to sound.
"Just what do you mean you can't get and accurate measurement?" he asked,
"I dunno sir. The first measurement I took we had over 50 fathoms of water between us and the ocean floor. As a precaution, I took another and it read 25. Puzzled I just took it again and it read 30."
Wilkes looked at the sailor and wondered if he had been drinking on duty. If was one thing Wilkes despised was a drunkard. Nevertheless, one glance at the man, he knew he was sober
"Take another one Jenkins," he ordered.
"Aye captain" Jenkins replied and picked up the coiled line. He watched as Jenkins divided the line and dropped the end with the monkey fist into the water. As the line slowly descended into the depths, he silently counted the knots as the passed. He stopped counting as the line stopped. Confirming it had hit bottom.
"Looks like 27 to me" he said to Jenkins
"Aye captain that's what I think." jerkins said as he started to pull up the line counting as he went. He just said 27 just as the monkey fist emerged from the water. He nodded at Jenkins who tossed the line back in, again counting the knots as the passed. He had just counted to six when the line stops.
"What in the name of god is...." he never finished the sentence. Suddenly the waters around them started bubbling and the Vincennes started rocking. He managed to grab hold of one of the lifelines just as the water became rougher. He looked around and saw that his men were starting to panic.
"Everyone secure themselves." he yelled he had a good crew and knew them well. The air around them was warm, but if one fell into the water, they would not survive long. Suddenly the waters calmed. He was about to let go of the lifeline when he heard Jenkins shout,
"Captain Look, something's coming out of the water. He looked over to where the sailor was pointing, sure enough about 100 yards off their starboard side a shape emerged from the ocean. As the fog thinned, he was able to make out its shape.
"Sweet mother of god" Jenkins replied as he crossed himself.
"Indeed seaman indeed" Wilkes said as he muttered a silent prayer of his on.
"Bosun', beat to quarters, all hands to arms," he shouted as the shape continued to rise out of the ocean. He watched as the shape continued to rise almost 200 feet high now. He heard the drums as his ship prepared for the worst. Jenkins stood there transfixed he glanced over at Wilkes and asked, "Captain what is it?"
Wilkes watched as the object stopped rising its base just a few feet from the Vincennes. "I do believe that is what they call a pyramid."
Chapter one.
December 20 1620 hrs.
100 miles NNW of Pearl Harbor Hawaii
Eight baller 1
Captain Jason "Apollo" Michel hated flying, or at least he hated it when he was not at the controls. His stomach pitched and rolled with every bump the SH-60 Sea hawk made. He glanced around the interior of the sea hawk and was glad he was not the only one with a troubled stomach. Beside him, there were two others turning green due to the chopper's erratic behavior.
He was one of seven passengers and crew that were inbound to the USS John C Stennis, His home for the next six to eight months. He had just received orders to report to the USS John C. Stennis and become the new CO of the VFA-147 Argonauts.
He was replacing the old CO because of some sort of scandal involving several enlisted personnel. It was ironic, or at least he thought so, that he would become the Argonauts' newest CO. After all his first name was Jason, and now he was commanding them. Jason and the Argonauts, Somebody somewhere would come up with some sort of joke about looking for the Golden Fleece.
The chopper rocking eased and the ride smooth out. He glanced at his watch and saw they had another hour of flight time left. "Time for a nap" he said to no one in particular. He closed his eyes and tried to take a catnap. If the Navy taught you anything, it was to sleep when you could. The swaying of the chopper put him in a trance like state neither asleep nor awake.
He was aware of his surroundings, but his body was resting. That was the most important thing for his body to rest. His mind however, that was something completely differently.
While he rested, his thoughts were mostly of his parents. Adam and Eva Michel's were very well known in the archaeological circles before they were married. However, the combination of the two together made them outright famous.
They were known as the "Adam and Eve" of archeology. Together they blazed a trail of archaeological digs worldwide. Along with their five children Cain, Able, Seth, Ruth and have course himself Jason.
People would often ask them why they named him Jason instead of another biblical name. They would always reply, "Because he looked like a Jason. So we named him Jason"
a smile etched across his lips. The childhood he had was amazing. As a small boy of five or six, his father took him to the top of the great pyramid just before dawn one morning. They sat down as best they could and waited the sunrise.
He told him tales about the ancient Egyptians, their beliefs and customs. He even taught him a few brief words of Sumerian. His father told him Sumerian was older than Egyptian and it was his mother's favorite ancient language.
He learned to say "Arammu Ummum" or as it translates "love mother". He remembers reciting the words repeatedly until he knew he got it down. His father pointed out for him to look at the sun raising him still saying "Arammu Ummum" repeatedly just as the sun rose to greet them.
Then his next thought of his parents brought a sudden pang of sadness, one the world would never forget. On September 11, 2001, his parents caught a last minute flight on American Airlines Flight 11. They were on their way to visit him at his new duty station at NAS Lemoore. Lemoore is located in the middle of California's San Joaquin Valley. They never made it.
Their plane was the first to hit the towers. Jason who happed to be on a training exercise at the time with the fist of the fleet VFA-25, spent the next six hours airborne constantly scanning the skies for any more missing airliners. Fortunately, none struck the west coast.
Unfortunately four of them changed America for good. It was two days later when he finally checked his e-mail did he learn his parents were on flight 11. Seth had sent it! Thinking of Seth brought him another pang of sadness. His Nephew Johnny died while serving in the US Navy.
It was right after the second Korean War started and Johnny's ship the USS Kidd came under attack. North Korean forces had just started across the DMZ when the Kidd came under heavy attack by the North Koreans.
The Kidd was in International waters when the North Koreans launched no less than 10 of the Chinese made cruise missiles. Each one carried warhead capable of sinking an aircraft carrier, not to mention a destroyer.
The Kidd, much to her credit had managed to take out five of them before the sixth one slamming into her. It hit the bridge from the starboard side. Creating such a fireball, the next three silkworms detonated prematurely.
The last one malfunctioned and missed the Kidd.
Not that it mattered much the Kidd was lost with all hands! The resulting explosion broke her back. In less than sixty seconds, the ship was gone. Taking with her over three hundred and fifty souls to the bottom of the Sea of Japan.
Johnny's body was one of the three they recovered. His funeral was a major media event or circus. It just depended on whom you asked!
The chopper hit another pocket of turbulence. He quickly opens his eyes, something was wrong. Just as he sat upright, the chopper shook again. He glanced out the window and saw the skies hard darken very quickly and they were heading into a very vicious storm. Very dark clouds were quickly enveloping the a major squall had just formed
Just as he was about to say something the co-pilot got up from the cockpit area and headed towards Jason. The hair on the back of Jason's neck stood on end as the young pilot approached. He was wearing Mickey Mouse ears he lifted one side of the hearing protection so he hear the pilot.
"Sir, I'm Lt White. My friends call me Wildcat," the female voice said.
"Names Captain Michel's Wildcat, but you can call me Apollo, So what's up?" he asked as he extended his hand.
She took it and leaned over and told him "Apollo, a major storm has popped up between us and the Stennis; it looks like we are heading back to pearl."
Jason nodded in acknowledgement.
He watched as she headed towards the other passengers onboard. Three civilians and one big ol' pain in the ass! The pain in the ass belonged to one Senator Justin Cummings. Once a former Navy Combat pilot, Senator Cummings was leading the way, to reduce the role of the Navy saying it was outdated and was becoming a non-factor.
He was watching Wildcat tell the Senator that they would be turning around and heading back towards Pearl.
The look on the Senators face changed from an almost dumb less stare to one of anger in just less than three seconds.
"What the fuc#! Pardon my French everyone, but why am I not surprised, the freaking navy has found a way to screw me again!" he said shouting loud enough for even Jason to hear him.
The queasiness in his stomach ceased. The sudden occurrence of a major headache had taken its place. To say neither cared for the other was an understatement. Still He had to try to calm the Senator down.
He stood stretching to his 6-foot frame. He walked over to Senator Cummings.
The senator noticing that the Mighty Apollo has risen decided to crank it up a notch.
"Great the navy sends me on a flight to nowhere with its little media darling. The great and powerful Apollo, are thou about to smite me?" he asked jokingly prodding his aide in the ribs.
Jason had expected half as much from the Senator. Instead, he put his best military face forward. That way he could tell the senator that he is not impressed with the senator. Nevertheless, he will give the senator the respect the office holds.
"Sir with all due respect, as a pilot I checked the weather reports before we left pearl. They called for clear skies and fair temperatures in our operating error. I do not see how the navy is at fault for this. As for being a media darling I admit I have been on the TV, more than my fair share but it was during a very hard time for us all"
"Bull crap Captain, and you know it! Don't give me that sob story about your nephew. OK? Everybody knows about the great Apollo's story."
Jason just eyed the Senator. The words had stung him, very deeply. Nevertheless, he held it in. if he did not Johnny would kick his ass when he got to heaven!
Instead he just eyed the senator. His gun metal blue eyes locking with the senators, the contact did not last long. As the senator quickly adverted his eyes and continued his tirade.
"But back to the subject you navy types are always taking the fall for each other, I suppose you'll be telling me now that we're not going to make it to the Stennis today?"
Jason glanced over the senator's shoulder and looked out the window. Outside he saw the other Seahawk wishing he were on that one instead. "No sir looks like we won't make it to the Stennis today, sorry sir."
"That's OK Captain, I expected half of much from the navy." Senator Cummings said as he turned his attention back to his aide. "Just as I told you Christi, the navy found a way for us not to make it to the Stennis, but wait till we get back; I'll have the SECNAV's ass in a sling, along with their golden boy's here too."
Jason shook his head and turned his attention at the other passengers the news reporter and her cameraman. Both of which looked a little green around the gills. Jason understood their pain as his stomach threatens to let loose that slider he had for lunch. (Authors note: Slider is a naval term for a hamburger. It has so much grease in it, it slides across the floor.)
As he approached the two, the cameraman looked up and saw that Jason was approaching. He elbowed the reporter and pointed the Captain out. He sat down beside her and motioned for her to lift her Mickey Mouse ears and he shouted over the noise of the aircraft.
"I'm sorry to disturb you ma'am, but I thought I would let you know the Choppers has been ordered back to pearl. This storm really caught us by surprise and it safer for us to return to pearl than try and make it to the Stennis."
The female reporter shook her head she understood and promptly lowered her head back into her lap. Jason's stomach quickly reminded him that it wasn't feeling good either and he promptly returned to his seat. Even over the noise of the chopper and his Mickey Mouse ears, he could still hear Senator Cummings bellowing about the navy. He glanced out the window again and saw that the other chopper had moved a little closer. The choppers movements had settled down a little bit, but his stomach didn't. He closed his eyes hoping the headache would go away he also wondered if there was a way for him to change choppers in mid flight.
1635hrs eight baller 2
Lt Commander Rachel "Batgirl" Harris looked at the other chopper and wondered if there was a way for her to change flights in mid air. She shook her head at the funny thought as the choppers turbulence worsened. She looked over the cabin area, which was now filled with the rancid smell of puke.
She was glad she had a cast iron stomach or her puke would be on the choppers deck also. She looked at the culprits of the smell and felt no pity for them. They were two scared sailors who went AWOL while the ship was visiting pearl. Both were being escorted by two armed marines back to the Stennis. There they properly face courts martial if she knew the ships skipper. He was a hard ass that was for sure, but a fair one.
She glanced again out at the other chopper. She knew her new CO was on that chopper along with several VIPs. She hadn't met her new CO yet, but she heard rumors it was Captain Michels and if half of what they said about him was true, then she was in for a hell of a ride.
She closed her eyes and tried to get a catnap, but the rancid order of the puke kept her awake. She looked outside and noticed the storm had passed somewhat and the turbulence had let up. She walked up to the cockpit and asked the pilot if there was a way to let some fresh air in. The pilot who had the nick "Doc" stenciled on his flight helmet said that they were expecting more turbulence up ahead and that they couldn't risk opening the side door. But the good news was that they were expecting to clear the storm area in about 10 minutes and if she could hold out, then they would open the side door.
She nodded OK and went back to her seat. By this time the smell wasn't as bad and she looked over at the culprit again. Somehow for the entire stink the poor SOB has put them through, she felt sorry for him when they landed. For she knew for sure the guy had to clean up his mess. She glanced out the window and noticed that they had drifted a little closer to the other Sea hawk. She wasn't worried about it, even though they were less than thirty yards apart.
The Eightballers had excellent pilots and she had thrown down a few with some of the while on shore leave before. So she wasn't worried about him. It was the other pilot she knew little about. All she knew about "Flapjack" was his love of pancakes and that he was born in Iraq.
It wasn't the fact he was a Muslim, hell's bells it wasn't that. It was because he was so green. The Sea hawk lurched again and she heard the young seaman loose his lunch again. She glanced out the window again and what she saw made her tighten her safety belt even tighter.
1645 hrs Eightballer one
Lt. Jari "Flapjack" Ahmad was not a very religious man. But as of right now he was. He muttered another small prayer to Allah, his fifth in as many minutes, as he fought with the controls of the Sea hawk He never expected to have weather conditions like this. Stormy one second, sunny the next, now he was flying in hurricane like conditions as he struggled to keep the bird flying. The sheer power of this storm was unbelievable.
A gust of wind hit the chopper on his starboard side bringing him closer than he wanted to eight baller two. He eased back on the stick to bring more distance between the two aircraft. But not too much he thought any more and the craft might stall. He glanced over at his co-pilot wildcat. She was her normal straight ahead navy self. She spoke only when needed and then it was strictly navy. He had no idea where the name wildcat came from but he wished she would loosen up some. Maybe it was because he was born an Iraqi.
Some Americans, hell a lot of Americans were aghast that he was in the US military and flew choppers at that. He could look into their eyes and wonder if he was going to fly his into the ship or worse yet a building. Of course he wouldn't. Be might have been born an Iraqi but he was 100 percent American now.
He was just ten years old when his parents fled Iraq during Desert Storm. They surrendered to a CNN camera crew and pleaded for political asylum in the US. Seeing a good human interest story the network covered their story about seeking citizenship up to the day they received it a day he also will never forget, Sept 10, 2001 the day he became an American and the day before he wished he was somewhere else.
A crackle over his radio diverted his attention "eight baller one this is echo one."
Flapjack was confused who in the hell was echo one. Wasn't one way to find out
"echo one this is eight baller one who are you?"
"Eight baller one this is echo one I am squawking proper IFF codes now."
Flapjack looked over at wildcat. She nodded as the proper codes were received.
"Proper ID flapjack, codes also say go to secure channel 42." she said in her proper military voice.
Flapjack nodded and watched as wildcat adjusted the radio dial.
"Go ahead echo one this is eight baller one we are secure."
"Eightballer one you and Eightballer 2 are to descend to 75 feet and proceed on a course of 096, speed 60 knots. Do you copy?"
He glanced over at wildcat she shrugged at the strange course change. But they did have the proper codes.
"Say again echo one did you say descend to..... "He was cut off by echo one
"eight baller one descend to 75 feet and proceed on a heading of 096. Speed 60 knots do you confirm."
"I confirm echo one descending to 75 feet and new heading of 096."
"Eightballer one from now on, please maintain radio silence."
He glanced over at Eightballer two; he could see Doc now having the same conversation that he just had. He watched as doc was a little more animated than he was in his conversation. Finally doc glanced over at him and shrugged his shoulder. Flapjack nodded pointed downward and eased the Sea hawk 75 feet above the surface of the raging ocean wondering what in the name of Allah has the navy asked of them.
Captain Michel's eyes open quickly as he felt the Sea hawk descend. This wasn't right. He glanced over at Senator Cummings who had finally stopped ranting. He too knew something wasn't right. He glanced over at the other Seahawk and noticed it too was descending. Something was up. He quickly noticed that they had also changed course and was heading almost due east away from Pearl, but not towards the Stennis.
Wildcat had returned and motion for him to lift his hearing protection.
"Sir we have been giving a new heading. As far as our destination that is unknown."
"If I may ask wildcat who gave the course change."
"Someone called echo one Captain. They had proper IFF Codes and we have also descended to 75 feet."
When Jason heard the altitude he glanced out the window and noticed they were skimming along the top of the roaring ocean just a mere seventy five feet."
"Why so low and is that course taking us east?"
"Don't know about the altitude Captain but the course is 096. So an easterly heading is about right."
Jason looked over at Senator Cummings who looked like he was about to blow a gasket. He didn't want to talk to the senator. "Thanks for the info Wildcat. Do me a favor and tell the senator. Maybe he won't light into you like he did me."
Wildcat looked over at Senator Cummings whose face had gotten even redder. She then turned back at Captain Michel's and said "Do I have to sir. I know he's a Senator and all, but sir I really don't think he wants to here this from me."
"Scared of the senator Wild cat?"
"No sir just covering my six. I feel since you're the senior officer on board you should get the ass chewing not me."
"Gee thanks wildcat, you know you'll owe me one."
Wildcat glanced over at Senator Cummings and turned back at Captain Michel's "Apollo, next time we get liberty, I'll buy all night."
"Deal, now go back up to the cockpit and watch how to go above and beyond the call of duty." Jason then stood up and headed towards Senator Cummings wishing he was on that other chopper.
Eight baller 2
1650 hrs.
Lt. David "Doc" Watson glanced at his watch. They had been following this new course change for about fifteen minutes now. They were so damn close to the raging storm below; he could have sworn the choppers wheels brushed the tops of the swells. Still they held their course. What ever was going on? Echo one had the correct codes. He glanced over at his co-pilot Ensign Fred "Opie" Taylor.
Doc smiled thinking about Opie. He was his best friend and once asked why the nick. Opie, knowing all the ridicule he would receive. He just smiled a big grin and said in his deep southern accent.
"I hail from King, North Carolina Yankee, just a little south of Pilot Mountain or as they would say on the TV show Mount Pilot. So I figure I'll beat them to the punch. Besides I like the show anyway"
"So Opie, what do you think of this course change?" doc asked
"I dunno Doc but where ever were going ain't on no map." Opie was looking at the radar switching between FLIR and normal mode. "The only thing I'm getting is eight baller one. But there is some good news. Looks like we have flown out of the storm"
Just as Opie finished the chopper lurched again. He continued "or should I say we're just about cleared the storm."
Doc laughed. That's what he liked about Opie Taylor. He let things roll off his back and didn't let it get to him.
"Just keep you eyes open Opie. There's got to be something out here for us to land on."
"Will do Yankee, will do."
Doc laugh, he and Opie cut each other often. Doc was from upstate New York about as much of a Yankee as you could be. While growing up, He thought everyone from the south was a redneck country bumpkin. That was till he met Opie. Even though he spoke with a heavy southern accent, Opie had proven more than once he was capable of handling himself.
As he struggled at the controls, he heard the unmistakable sound to the young sailor losing his lunch again. Damn how much did that boy have in his stomach? He was just a scrawny kid, but he must have lost it 5 or six times now. The smell in the chopper was becoming unbearable. He hopes soon the turbulence would stop long enough so they could open the door. His wrinkled his nose as the new wave of stink reached him.
"Ain't that bad Yankee." he heard Opie say.
He glanced over at Opie and but couldn't help but crack a smile. The young man was sitting there, his head turning a nice shade of green.
"Not bad, huh, Then why are you turning green?" he asked
"Ain't turning green, actually it smells like my Uncle James pig farm. Spent many a summer there, helping out sloping them hogs, butchering them too. Gotta love that smell, even when a hogs gall bladder busts, makes this stuff smell like daises"
"You didn't answer my question, why are you turning green?" he quipped
"it's your damn driving, your all over the place, what do you think you are New York City?"
"Naw I'm pretending I'm your ass, you fly around like you're a NASCAR driver."
Opie gave him the finger, and went back to work. His head buried in the radar screen. He glanced over at Flapjack's chopper. They were about 100 feet apart, he could see wildcat. Her head was down just like Opie, looking at the scope. Suddenly her head popped up.
"Contact, bearing 002, distance 12 miles, speed 4 knots!" Opie said.
"Copy that, looks like we found out landing site. What type of ship is it squawking?"
"Hold on, getting IFF Now." after a few seconds Opie came back "IFF reporting the ship's name as...No way. Ships name is America."
"No way, that's not possible" exclaimed Doc
"well that's what the IFF is reading, she's squawking TARBOX 66 and that's her call sign." came back Opie
"I thought they gave the America's call sign to the IKE, after the Navy made a artificial reef out of her?"
"They did, but the IKE squawks TARBOX 69, not 66, besides looks like we going to pay a visit to somebody."
Doc nodded in agreement. He went back to flying checking their gauges. Whoever this was they were going to have to land. They were running on fumes as it was and there was no way they could make it back to the Stennis or Pearl. Who ever these people were, they had them hook line and sinker.
Eightballer one
Contact in 2 minutes" came wildcat's voice.
"Copy that, has contact changed course or speed?" asked flapjack.
"Wait one, yes contact has changed speed, and it's now dead in the water." Wildcat looked up from her screen. Glanced out the window and returned to her scope." Contact in one minute, you see anything Flapjack?" she said never taking her eyes off the scope.
He looked around. The storm had completely passed crystal clear skies and calm water was all he saw." negative, I see nothing. No contacts are visible Are you getting a radar contact?"
"Negative, all I'm getting is an IFF squawk, we should be right on top of It." this time wildcats voice was starting to show a little strain. He didn't blame her after all they were flying on fumes as it was and there was nowhere to land.
"I think its time to break radio silence, get me......."he never finished.
"Eight baller flights this is echo one. Please slow down to a hover, copy?" It's about time he thought. He had a few choice words for whoever was on the other side of that microphone
"echo one this is eight baller one, what the hell is going on, we see no visible landing.." again he was cut off
"eight baller one this is echo one. Please go into hover mode all will be explained shortly."
He looked over at doc, who nodded his head.
"Copy that echo one starting to hover" he said as he eased back on the throttles, the Seahawk slowed to a hover. He watched as doc was a little slower than he was slowing down, shoot past him. But doc quickly brought his chopper down to a hover, about 75 yards ahead of him.
As he held the chopper he looked at his fuel gages, only 20 more minutes of flight left. Whoever these people was they had better hurry, they were running out of time fast.
"eight baller one level up with eight baller 2" said echo one
"copy that echo one leveling up" he eased the stick forward slowly pulling beside Doc"
"standby eight baller flight, be advised stay in control of your bird. This may get a little bumpy."
He looked over at doc who was as puzzled as he was when suddenly a flash of bright light enveloped them. Anybody who would have been in the area would have saw two US Navy choppers simply vanish.