Following the fleet arrival at "new" Earth, just before Admiral Adama's final Viper flight off Galactica
"Sure you don't want us to stay on the landing deck, just in case?" Sharon "Athena" Agathon asked Admiral William "Husker" Adama as they made their final approach to Galactica's port landing bay.
"No, Athena…I want some time alone with the old girl. Lotta memories in there, and I need to leave 'em behind in my own way. Besides, the Chief personally checked out my Viper and the launch tube. I trust the Chief. It will be fine." Adama looked out the window at Galactica, broken and battered but still majestic. For the past several days the massive battlestar, despite the crippling damage she'd taken in the jump on her last mission, had served the fleet in staging and preparing their landing on their new home. She'd never jump again, but even in her weakened condition she'd taken on the Cylon colony ship, taken a pounding that would have likely destroyed lesser ships, and brought them in one final FTL jump to the pristine world that would ensure mankind's survival.
"OK, sir. See you back on the planet. We're ready to signal Sam to start the fleet's final flight as soon as you land."
The Raptor touched down in the port landing bay, and Helo, in the rear cabin, started the air evacuation in preparation for opening the hatch. Normally the deck crew would bring the Raptor into the hangar before opening the hatches, but there was no deck crew…the Admiral was going to have to cross the landing bay in zero atmosphere and zero gravity, enter the emergency airlock to the evac station, and make his way to the launch bay all on his own. In fact, the only other living being still on Galactica was Sam Anders, who for the past several weeks had functioned essentially as a Cylon hybrid to the massive battlestar.
"Ready, sir." Helo reported from the aft cabin. He and Athena had volunteered to take the Admiral back up to Galactica so he could fly the final flight off the battlestar, and Adama could think of no Raptor crew he'd rather have with him for his final time on Galactica.
"Thank you. And let me say, Athena, that was a nicely executed landing. You were always much better at landings than Boomer." Adama stepped back to the Raptor's hatch, relinquishing the left seat to Helo. One last check of the board, then he released the seals and stepped out on the deck. Never did like microgravity, he thought as the Raptor's gravity field released him and the landing bay's 0.1g field took hold. Just a short trip to the airlock, though…Athena put me down right by it, thankfully.
At the airlock he turned to the Raptor. It was poised to leave the bay, though in the vacuum he heard no engine sound, and just before liftoff both Athena and Helo turned and saluted him. He returned their salute and watched the Raptor leave the bay, then entered the airlock to spend his final hours alone with the last Colonial battlestar.
Fifty years earlier, during the First Cylon War
Junior Lieutenant William Adama looked out the forward viewport of the Raptor, catching his first sight of the massive battlestar. Gods, how can something man-made be that BIG, he wondered. Only last week he had earned his junior pilot wings, and just days ago he'd received his orders to flight duty on the battlestar Galactica. As they approached the port landing bay, the Raptor ECO turned to him and spoke the first words of the flight, at least to the "rook".
"Time to suit up, rook. We're not staying, so you will have to disembark on the landing deck and use the aft evac airlock. Not gonna puke in microgravity, are you, rook?"
"Microgravity?"
"Yeah, were you awake in advanced battlestar flight ops? Landing deck is kept at 0.1g for all flight ops. You won't bounce away, but it ain't exactly Caprica-normal…lotsa rooks upchuck in their helmets first time on the deck, but then again you are a bigshot Viper jock, right?"
Adama was used to the ribbing by the Raptor crews. In flight school everyone qualified on Raptors, but only the top of the class moved on to Viper training. The rest stayed back and learned ECO jobs and took courses in battlestar shiphandling, and this put Raptor pilots aboard training battelstars far earlier than their Viper counterparts. Adama had trained in trap and launch aboard the veteran battlestar Phoenix, but in his month aboard had never been deck-walking in microgravity.
"Yeah, I remember, and I won't puke. Just point me to the airlock."
The Raptor crew set the plane down near the forward elevators…Adama was sure it was not accidental that the aft evac airlock was a few hundred yards back. He finished locking down his helmet and checking his suit seals, then on the ECO's signal he popped the hatch seals, grabbed his duffel bag, and climbed out of the Raptor. He didn't even bother to turn and see the Raptor off, as he slowly made his way aft to the airlock. At least my bag is light for this little jaunt, he thought. Carrying it to his rack in normal gravity was likely to be a different story.
Twenty minutes later, he'd stowed his bag in the squadron duty locker and was making his way to the wardroom area, where he was told the CAG had an office. Galactica's layout was similar to the Phoenix, but much larger, and it took him quite some time to travel first from the flight pod to junior officer quarters, then from there to the senior officer wardroom and stateroom areas. Must be the Fleet's exercise program, he thought, or at least a way to keep junior officers aware of their place in the order of things.
"About time you got here, rook. Are Fleet orders that confusing, or do you just not understand 'upon arrival, report directly to the Commander Air Group Galactica for squadron assignment'?"
"Sir, I came straight here from the port landing deck…"
"Really…then where's your gear, rook?"
Adama stared at the Major for a moment, realizing he'd trapped himself. He'd thought that arriving with a large bag of uniforms and flight suits would not be appropriate, and he'd honestly not wanted to lug the bag halfway through the battlestar.
"Sir, what I meant was…"
"Then say what you mean, Lieutenant. I know you just spent two years learning that there's nothing more important in the world than that Viper cockpit, but remember you are also a Colonial officer. You may be a pilot, but you are also a leader. The enlisted men look to you as an example, and so will officers junior to you in the future…IF you ever move up from Junior Lieutenant, that is. What is your name, rook?"
"William Adama, sir."
"Adama, I don't give a frak about your first name. We're not buddies. I only want to know where to put your sorry ass on the roster. Now, since you've already seen your rack, I hope you remember it…here's your qual card, you've got preflight in one hour, and trap quals the rest of the day. I'm assigning you to the Hellions, they operate out of the port pod. Check the squadron's Plan of the Day for schedule, be on time, and do NOT frak up my deck when you land your bird. Now get the frak out of here, I have real work to do."
Four days later, and William Adama was convinced that the Major was right…it felt like he hadn't seen his rack in years. The Hellions were his squadron, but he'd spent little time with them…he and his fellow rooks were busy in RAG training, "replacement air group". The "raggies" were relearning battlestar landing operations, being grilled in advanced tactics and Viper combat maneuvering, and trying to learn their way around the massive battlestar. It had taken Adama two days to find the right officer's mess for his squadron, only to discover that rooks ate in the general mess until they were qualified.
Heading for the ready room for his next flight, he was noticed the CAG coming toward him. Snapping to attention, he sounded off a loud "Good morning, SIR!"
"As you were, Adama. Let's get to the ready room…no more training, we've got bigger issues coming down the pike."
As they made their way in, Adama noticed that the entire squadron was present, as well as the Commander and the XO. He quickly took a seat in the back of the room, along with the last few rooks to filter in. What's going on, he wondered, why are the Commander and XO here?
"Listen up", the Commander began, bringing a hush to the room. "Galactica has been ordered to Tauron. Fleet intelligence indicates a Cylon strike force is on it's way to the Tauron area…we, along with the battlestars Columbia and Saggitaria, are going to meet the enemy and keep them from invading Tauron. We'll likely be in Tauron space for several months, maybe even a year or more. The Cylons have thus far avoided this area of Colonial space, but seem to now have a significant interest there. We don't know what's different, but we do know that at least two basestars are en route. We are jumping to Ragnar Anchorage for munitions and fuel, then jumping to Tauron orbit. We will be jumping in one hour, as soon as Columbia has cleared Ragnar. Rooks…your training is over. No more time for school…your final exams will be in battle; if you live, you pass."
The XO stepped up. An older Colonel, he drew a sheet of paper out of his uniform pocket and called out a list of names.
"Adama, Andrews, Callista, Jenkins, Kelly, Lyons, and O'Reilly, front and center."
Adama made his way to the front of the room, taking his place in front of the Commander. Once the others were in place, he saluted the Commander.
Commander Nash started with Adama, pinning on new junior pilot wings on each of them in turn. Adama noticed these had a "G" in the center of the insignia.
The XO read out to the squadron "As of this moment, you are Galactica Viper pilots. You earned wings in the past, but from now forward you will wear the Galactica wings pinned on you today, by Fleet custom, signifying the ship you first went into combat aboard. As of today, you will no longer be rooks; if you survive the upcoming battle, you will take your place as Colonial Warriors and carry on the proud legacy of the battlestar Galactica. And as of today, you will be known in flight by the callsigns your fellow pilots have selected for you. Lieutenant Adama…Husker. Lieutenant Andrews…Merlin. Lieutenant Callista…Goldenboy. Ensign Jenkins…Hawkeye. Lieutenant Kelly…Ghost. Ensign Lyons…Sundevil. Lieutenant O'Reilly…Dancer."
Adama was proud, both of himself and his fellow rooks…at the same time, he realized that the war had just shortcut what would normally be at least two more weeks of training for him and the other six pilots. The trial by fire would be a real test, more dangerous than a frakked-up landing or engine flameout, and there was the very real possibility that several in this room would not come back from the cockpit.
"Flight rosters and combat stations will be published en route to Ragnar. Squadron…dismissed!"
Two days later
"Galactica, Husker, I've got visual on two basestars, bearing 225 carom 42 on my position, heading toward the Saggitaria. Basestars are launching raiders, repeat, they are launching raiders!" Adama broke right as a wave of Cylon raiders screamed past him, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Columbia was several thousand kilometers away, her fighters taking a beating, and Adama's wingman Jack "Prettyboy" Grayson had been forced back to Galactica with jammed gun ports. Adama had been ordered to stay out and link up with his fellow former rook "Goldenboy", though that was an order easier given than followed. It seemed Raiders were everywhere, though they were largely ignoring the Vipers and making for the battlestars.
"All wings, engage Raiders. Weapons free, target Raiders with heavy missiles and nukes first. Come in on defensive vectors to avoid defensive batteries."
Adama had so far taken out five Raiders, and now had a sixth in his sights. His rad alarm indicated this one was carrying nukes, and it was heading for Galactica like an arrow, only firing on Vipers that got in it's path. And it was moving really fast…he was near full throttle, and the Raider was slowly pulling away. It was weaving like mad, making weapons lock nearly impossible. He pushed the throttle a bit further forward, and decided that a lock was just not going to work…ignoring the targeting computer, he punched up the manual targeting scanner on his DRADIS display and tried to match the wild weave of the Raider.
"Husker, Galactica actual, Raider has targeted our starboard engine cluster. Imperative that you take it out before it can hit, we have major structural damage and cannot take another hit in that area." Adama could hear the strain in Commander Nash's voice…he was probably even more nervous at trusting the life of his ship to a pilot who was on his first combat flight.
"Aye sir, I'm on it." He didn't feel the need to mention he was sighting with a Mark I Eyeball…the Commander was tense enough as it was. "Goldenboy, take backup, vector in at 085 carom 045, in case I miss."
Just a few more kilometers and the Raider would be in range…a matter of seconds at the speeds they were traveling. Now or never, he thought, and pulled the trigger. To his amazement, the Raider shook from dozens of hits from his guns, blowing up and showering him with debris, even cracking his canopy.
"Husker, Galactica actual…damn good shooting! Now what do you hear?"
"Nothing but the rain, sir!"
"The grab your gun and bring in the cat. The toasters are pulling back…looks like that Raider was their ace in the hole. Galactica to all fighters, come on home, and well done. The CAG is recording straight "A's" for all former rooks."
Back over Galactica, Adama was shocked to see the extent of damage the battlestar had sustained. He'd have thought the ship would be nearly destroyed, but from the interior, even though things were a mess, it was apparent these battlestars were built to take a pounding. The port landing bay actually had a severely damaged Raider in the forward corner, and the dents and tracks scraped in the deck would take weeks to pound out. Two Raptors were being moved to the elevators, both with large burn marks and one missing a vertical stabilizer, and several Vipers were sitting off to the side with major engine damage. Walking through the battlestar's corridors after landing, Adama noticed many areas where cables and conduits were dangling from the overhead, saw several injured pilots and crewmen, and noticed the smell of smoke in the air, no doubt from several fires. But the ship still exuded an air of combat readiness.
"Husker! Damn good flying!" The CAG ran up to him, beaming in obvious pleasure at his junior officer. "You know, you likely saved the ship…Engineering already had three major breaches in that cluster, another hit there would have blown the ship into pieces. The Commander is already talking about a commendation for you."
"I'm just glad we all made it, sir. I have to admit, I was pretty nervous out there…the Cylons are pretty damn good pilots, sir."
I bet you were nervous…you'd have been a fool not to be. We all were…get used to it. Combat never gets to be routine…if it does, you need to have your head examined."
The CAG walked with him to the ready room, where a cheer erupted when he entered. Chants of "Husker, Husker" and smiles all around made him forget his cockpit nervousness for a while, until the Commander entered the room and the CAG called the pilots to attention.
"As you were." Commander Nash took the podium, looking out at the packed ready room. Members of all of Galactica's squadrons were present, with the crowd spreading out into the passageways and the bulkheads lined two and three deep with pilots.
"Lieutenant Adama, you have my congratulations and my thanks on a job well done. I take personal pleasure in making a spot award of the Colonial Commendation Medal with combat "V" for your brave actions today. Your tenacity in combat serves as an example to all, and the crew of Galactica is forever in your debt."
"Now, while I as much as anyone would like to kick back and celebrate our victory over the Cylons today, we have another mission. We're to make as many repairs as possible, then in one week the Galactica and Columbia are to jump to a rendezvous with battlestar groups 61 and 64. We have intelligence on a new Cylon weapon that is rumored to be under construction. The location is on an icy planetoid, guarded by at least three Raider wings, ground forces, defensive batteries and nuclear weapons. In addition, there are at least two basestars defending the planet from orbit. We'll be sending in a Raptor recon group from Raptor Squadron 2, followed by a strike force on the ground while the battelstars take on the basestars and the Viper wings handle the Raiders. The CAG, XO, and myself will be spending a large part of the next several days planning the raid, but I wanted to let you know firsthand that we'd been selected for this mission. It will be tough…many of you will not come back. But it's imperative that we find and destroy the reported superweapon the Cylons are building there. The Defense Ministry has placed the highest priority on this mission, and Admiral Phineas has stressed to me that all other considerations are secondary to Operation Raptor Talon."
Adama was surprised that Nash would take the Galactica into battle with the level of damage she'd suffered, but over the next few days he saw first-hand the resilience and toughness built into these battlestars and their crews. Nash many times told his crew that if you took care of the ship, she'd always bring you home…the latest battle had proven him right. Adama saw the wisdom of his words, and the skill and speed in which the deck crews and engineering teams brought Galactica back to full combat readiness.
While the tempo had slowed a little, there were still CAP's to fly, repairs to oversee, and little time for a nugget Viper jockey to hit the rack. Adama had, though, managed to find some time to hook up with a Raptor pilot, Lieutenant Jaycie McGavin. While a grade senior to his Junior Lieutenant, she was also on her first assignment on Galactica. The romance took off like a Viper launching, and word of his affair with the beautiful McGavin spread through the squadron just as fast. Adama was somewhat of a celebrity on the Galactica, a nugget who'd barely earned his "G"-wings and was now the hero of a major battle. All in all, with the thought of Jaycie waiting back on the ship for him, Adama figured life couldn't be better. Maybe this frakkin' war would even end soon, and Jaycie and he could spend some serious time together on Caprica…who knew?
Six days later, just hours after an awards ceremony in which he was awarded the Colonial Commendation Medal, Commander Nash ordered the Galactica and Columbia to jump to the mission coordinates, nearly at the Red Line, and begin Operation Raptor Talon.
Following the fleet arrival at "new" Earth, just before Admiral Adama's final Viper flight off Galactica
Adama walked through the port flight pod toward the interconnecting bridge. There were areas, those that had most recently undergone repair, where it was hard to tell that it wasn't the same ship he'd taken command of over nine years ago.
Even now, after four years of battles, dozens of missile hits, a nuke, and several jumps with pods extended (which the ship really wasn't designed for, but had done in emergencies), she was still a tough ship. Only a few days ago she'd taken on the Cylon colony, taken a massive pounding, and even with the dozens of cracked frames and severe structural damage of the past few years she'd brought them safely to their new home.
Now empty, save for Sam Anders who was essentially the ship's "hybrid", Galactica's size was even more apparent. For the first year after the attack, until the infusion of personnel from Pegasus, Galactica has been sorely undermanned, and many areas of the ship remained essentially abandoned even after the Second Exodus from New Caprica and the surge in personnel due to the loss of Pegasus. Galactica had, for example, five large sickbay wards, yet with only one doctor and a limited pool of medical personnel they had stripped four of them and used the supplies to keep the forward sickbay running. The starboard flight pod, with all it's ready rooms, maintenance shops, and storage space had been largely abandoned until the formation of "Dogsville"…the parts and machinery were moved to the port pod, and the space was left essentially empty up to the eve of the final battle.
Passing the wardroom, Adama remembered the day he took command over nine years earlier. Retirement eligible, he'd decided to retire and take a civilian job, though he later changed his mind after realizing during a job interview that he couldn't stomach the civilian world. He'd managed to persuade Saul Tigh, his old friend and former XO from Valkyrie, to join him, much to Ellen Tigh's annoyance. Widely known as a career-ending assignment, the Galactica was still a major command, though it was a well known fact that no one reached the admiralty after a command tour on Galactica. That particular memory made Adama smile a bit…he'd finally attained the rank of Admiral, while still in command of Galactica in fact, though it had taken the near-destruction of humanity to get there. Still, he and Galactica had outlasted all the rest, though he'd happily have traded his admiral's stars for a quiet end to his career driving Galactica around the Caprica solar system.
Nine years earlier, five years before the Cylon attack on the Colonies
"Commander Adama, the board will see you now." A young officer, an ensign, stood next to Adama's chair in the officer's lounge at Picon Fleet Yards. She's young enough to be my granddaughter, thought Adama. How young are they commissioning them now, anyway? Adama stood and followed the ensign through the lounge and to the escalator leading up to the command offices of the fleet yards. Outside the large viewports he could see several battlestars in various stages of repair, including the massive Pegasus and his former command, the Valkyrie. How appropriate, he thought, I'm here to beg for another posting while the failure of my past sits there watching.
Entering the boardroom, Adama came to attention and made his formal introduction. "Commander William Adama, reporting as ordered, sirs."
Admiral Nagala, his former CO on the Columbia, sat at the head of the table, flanked by Admiral White and Rear Admiral Maas. They had what he assumed was his service record open in front of them, and in front of Nagala was a single chair, presumably for Adama. He continued to stand.
"Bill, take a seat. We have some questions for you." Nagala gestured to the chair, and Adama sat, still stiffly at attention.
"As you know, we've reviewed the events of your last mission as commanding officer of Valkyrie. And we've heard your testimony, as well as that of your XO, CAG, and other CIC personnel. After much deliberation, we've decided to grant your request for reinstatement to command. However, command of Valkyrie has, as you know, already been assumed by Commander Knoll. We have decided to offer you command of Galactica. We are making this a five year tour, and her decommissioning will coincide with your reaching mandatory retirement age."
"Galactica is assigned to Caprica defense patrol, Commander," continued Maas, who was currently the senior officer assignments director at Fleet command. "She's scheduled to be replaced at the end of the tour and converted to a museum ship, as the only remaining one of the original battlestar fleet from the Cylon war. It may not seem glamorous, Commander, but planetary defense is an important assignment."
Right, thought Adama. More like a consolation prize. You'll reinstate me, but stuff me off somewhere where you can forget me, on an ancient ship with no real mission. But after Valkyrie, I suppose it's the best I can expect.
"I accept, sir. I'd like to request Colonel Saul Tigh as my XO."
"Commander, Colonel Tigh has submitted his retirement request."
"I know, but I believe he'll reconsider. I'd like to offer him the position."
"Very well," Nagala assented, "but we'll need his answer within the week. Your orders will be delivered in seven days, at which time you are to proceed to Galactica and begin the relief process. You may consider yourself on leave until then. If Colonel Tigh declines the position, Colonel Jameson will remain as XO until a permanent replacement can be detailed. Good luck, Bill. Dismissed."
Adama rose, saluted the officers on the other side of the table, and left the room. Galactica…his first assignment would be his last. A dead end, but it was a ship and his time was not over yet. Maybe, just maybe, in five years he could find a way to work something out with Carolanne…after all, he'd be a short Raptor flight from Caprica.
Seven days later
"Galactica, Raptor 579, acknowledge hands-on approach port landing bay. Be advised that PCO Galactica is aboard."
"Copy, Raptor 579, set down on aft elevator 4 for aft hangar bay. Handing over to LSO in 3…2…1…MARK."
Commander Adama looked up from the book he'd been reading, and saw the massive form of Galactica looming outside the forward window. Still a lady after all these years, he thought, she should be on the line instead of pulling planetary guard duty.
"Sir, Galactica does not have an auto-landing system. In fact, most systems are not automated…we're due for a major systems upgrade in six months, and one of the items on the list is an auto-landing system…"
"Lieutenant, I'm aware of Galactica's systems, and we will not be getting an auto-landing system while I'm the commander. You might remember the lessons of the Cylon War…automated systems are extremely vulnerable to Cylon infiltration, and they will have no place on any battlestar I command if I have any say about it."
"Er, yes, sir…but sir, the Cylons haven't been seen in over three decades. Wouldn't it be easier…"
"Not while I'm the commander, Lieutenant." Adama was continually amazed at just how complacent some of these junior officers were. Not surprising, though, given that over thirty-five years had passed without a single sighting of the Cylons, at least as far as most in the fleet knew. The complacency was something Adama was determined to erase, at least in his crew.
"Raptor five seven niner, Galactica, you are cleared for approach ... Speed one seven zero, port bay, hands-on approach, checker's green, call the ball."
"Copy that, Galactica. I have the ball."
Adama sat back and let the flight crew land the Raptor and bring it down to the hangar. Outside the viewports he could see Commander Kronus and Colonel Jameson awaiting his arrival. As the hatch opened he stepped out of the cabin and onto the Raptor's wing, saluted and formally said "Request permission to come aboard, sir."
Commander Kronus and his XO returned the salute, and Kronus acknowledged with "Permission granted. Welcome aboard Galactica, Commander Adama. This is my XO, Colonel Mark Jameson. Colonel Tigh is en route from Caprica, there was a delay at Caprica City spaceport."
"Good thing I left from Qualai Spaceport. Knew visiting family would keep me out of trouble."
"How is your aunt…what is she, eighty years old?"
"Eighty-two. If the Cylons ever return and invade Qualai, I pity them. She'll be plowing her garden with Cylon body parts if that ever happens."
"Bill, I'd never wish for a Cylon return, but it would almost be worth it to see that scene happen. I suppose we should get started on the turnover…I have all the reports ready for you, and I've set aside the flag quarters for you until the change of command. Colonel Tigh will have the flag chief-of-staff cabin at his disposal."
"Thank you, Carl. I'd like to get started on the records, and I'd also like to meet with the CAG, LSO, Master-at-Arms, Chief Engineer, and Deck Chief before the ceremony."
"Colonel Jameson can arrange it. I would suggest that Colonel Tigh meet with them as well, together with you if you don't mind."
"Sounds fine to me."
"First, though…a drink in my quarters. They'll be yours, soon, so you might as well get to know them."
Two weeks later
"I relieve you, sir."
"I stand relieved, sir." Commander Kronus saluted Commander Adama, who returned the salute. Adama turned to the assembled crew in the starboard hangar bay, noticing his XO Saul Tigh in the front of the ship's company. Tigh had formally relieved Jameson two hours before the ceremony, and had overseen the crew falling into formation for the change-of-command.
"Admiral White, crew of Galactica, assembled guests…I'm sure I don't need to remind you that you are standing in a place steeped in history. Galactica is the last of the battlestars from the Cylon war, a veteran of many battles, and she has many ghosts. I served aboard this ship in the final days of the war…I landed Vipers on the deck just above us. I'm sure there are still a few of my dents in that deck that even Chief Tyrol's crew hasn't managed to pound out.
Galactica held the line against the Cylons back then. She took a pounding, one that many lesser ships never recovered from. She brought us home. And she kept giving the enemy hell even when her frames groaned and her bulkheads trembled. Galactica always brought us home, always kept us safe, and always kept the Cylons at bay. The Cylon War is long over, yet we must not forget the reasons why so many sacrificed so much in the cause of freedom. The cost of wearing the uniform can be high. But those of us who wear the uniform do so knowing that the price we may be called upon to pay is the price of freedom for those we serve. I'm honored to take command of this great ship, to see her stand proud in the winter of her life, still protecting the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, and still bringing us home. I'm proud of what I've seen in this crew; the fighting spirit of this ship is in good hands all these years after the war. You are a tribute to the name Galactica…keep her ready, and may the Lords of Kobol keep us all safe. Thank you."
As he sat down next to Commander Kronus, he saw Saul Tigh coming up to the podium. As XO, it fell to him to conclude the ceremony and dismiss the crew. Adama spoke in low tones to Kronus.
"Carl, I'm going to make some rather significant changes in Galactica's operations. I know her mission is planetary defense, but I still have issues with combat readiness."
"Bill, I understand. Gods know I let things go, and it shows. It's been so long since we've seen the Cylons, and there are so few that have combat experience…"
"Carl…I don't blame you. I just have a different perspective. I will probably make some enemies among your former senior officers. I just wanted you to know I'm not out to make a name for myself by destroying yours. Galactica's a fine ship. I owe you my thanks for turning her over in fine form to me."
"Well, best wishes, Bill."
He and Kronus stood as Tigh called the crew to attention and dismissed them, concluding the ceremony. Kronus nodded to Admiral White, then turned one more time to Adama.
"Bill, I'm not staying around for the reception and social niceties. I'll be departing with the admiral. Take care of my ship…and my crew. Keep 'em safe, and bring 'em home."
"I will, Carl. Good luck." They exchanged a final salute, and Kronus turned to join the admiral and Colonel Jameson.
"Saul," Adama called out to his XO, "I want the department heads, CAG, LSO, Master-at-Arms, and Chief Tyrol in the wardroom at 0900 tomorrow. We've got work to do."
"Yes, sir. They'll be there. Now I'm going to get these frakkin' civilians off the ship."
"Carry on, Colonel." Adama smiled. No receptions for Tigh, though he suspected a celebratory bottle of Ambrosia would be in order later. He might just join in, though protocol demanded he at least appear at the reception. May as well do a bit of celebrating, he thought, tomorrow the crew is likely to mutiny when they hear what I've got in store.
0900 the following morning
"ATTENTION!" Colonel Tigh's voice boomed throughout the wardroom as Adama stepped in. The department heads stood, at sharp attention, as Adama took the center front seat, the commander's seat, and sat down.
"As you were." Adama looked around the room. As expected, the officers, Chief Tyrol, and Sergeant Hadrian were all visibly just a bit nervous, and doing their best to cover it up. No doubt they were wondering just what the new commander had in store for them.
"Now that the parties are over, it's time to get to work. I said a lot of things yesterday that I'm sure made your families and your subordinates happy. Now, in this room, what is said is between us. So now I'll make the message plain…Galactica may be in top material condition, but the crew treats this assignment like it's a training cruise, or a free ride. It stops now. I've been aboard for two weeks, and I've seen a good crew allowed to be lax…lax in discipline, lax in military protocol, lax in flight operations, lax in drill response.
This is a battlestar…a ship of war. We may be assigned to planetary guard duty, but the Cylons are still out there. Many think it silly that we even worry about the Cylons anymore…it's been thirty-five years, after all. Most of you in this room have never even seen a Cylon, or seen combat.
Let me tell you this…that attitude is not acceptable on this ship. I don't blame the crew…I hold all of you responsible. The crew follows your example. And I am, as of this moment, demanding a new example from you.
Sergeant Hadrian…you know the rules, the demands of military discipline. Start enforcing them. I'm not expecting an unfair martinet, but I do expect a tight ship. I want uniforms squared away, standards enforced, protocol observed. Make it happen."
"Yes, sir!"
"CAG, combat operations are sloppy. Your nuggets wouldn't last two minutes against a Cylon raider…your veteran pilots wouldn't last five. Get with the XO; draw up a schedule of combat training runs. And let the squadron leaders know that we'll be going to a standard fleet CAP as of today…two Vipers, one Raptor, every CAP. Training flights will be in addition to CAP duties."
"Aye, sir."
"LSO, the pilots are pining for that auto-landing system. They are getting lax in hands-on landings. Galactica has never had networked systems or automation, and it will not have it on my watch. I want you to take a turn on flight ops…straighten them out. And let them know that hands-on is the Galactica way…always has been, always will be.
Engineer, I know it's been fifteen years since this ship has jumped…that's still no reason to not know how to do it. Coordinate with the CIC Senior Watch Officer, start running FTL drills.
Senior Watch Officer, I want sublight maneuvering to be second nature to our watch officers. I want them to be able to thread a needle with this ship in their sleep. Between FTL drills train them in the asteroid field. And don't dent my ship.
Chief Tyrol…you're here because I have a special job in mind for you. You are the senior chief petty officer aboard. In addition to the hangar decks, I want you to take on the job of Command Senior Chief. It comes with a promotion to Senior Chief Petty Officer. You will report to me directly on enlisted matters, in addition to your normal duties as Deck Chief.
These changes will not go down easy. But playtime is over…this is a ship of war. We may never see combat again…or the Cylons may jump in on us before we leave this room. Either way, we will be ready, until the day we fly the last Viper out of the tube. I've seen the result of complacency…it's not pretty. It involves blood, pain, and death. I want every last ounce of complacency driven off this ship like a squad of fleeing Centurions. Understood?"
He was met with a chorus of "Yes, sir!" and the sound of enthusiasm that he was sure would be sorely tested in the coming weeks. No matter…it would do them good to once again be proud of their role in the fleet, and even if they never saw action again he'd at least send tried and tested officers and crewmen on to other assignments.
"Dismissed. Colonel Tigh, I'd like you to join me in my quarters."
"Yes, sir."
As they entered Adama's large stateroom and shut the hatch, Tigh faced Adama.
"Bill, you're supposed to let the XO be the hardass. Don't you think you came on a bit strong back there?"
"Not you too, Saul. Look at them…they're soft. The Cylons would make short work of this ship. None of them have seen what we've seen."
"Oh, I agree with you, Bill. I just thought you were bucking for my job."
"Saul, I need you to make these changes work. The senior officers may think that was just a new CO giving them a little obligatory pep-talk. Make it stick. Be the hardass. I wasn't kidding back there…we may be stuck on in-system babysitting, but we'll damn sure be ready if the Cylons ever decide to cross the line again."
"You know, Ellen may just kill me before I get the chance."
"How did you ever persuade her to let you put off retirement for this?" Adama poured a drink for both of them as they sat down on opposite sides of his desk. Adama had spent much of his evening after the ceremony moving in to his new quarters, and the deck crew had brought up his boxes of belongings and his favorite oak desk during the ceremony. That and his three cases of Ambrosia.
"I didn't. She's back on Aerelon, mad as hell, but she'll come around. She knows you need me here, Bill, and she knows I'll be back in a few years."
"Saul, I'm sorry…I didn't…"
"Don't worry, Bill. This is where I want to be, anyway, not retired and sitting behind some desk in some frakkin' office worrying about corporate profits or office politics."
Adama raised his glass to Tigh, who returned the gesture, and together they downed the shots and readied another pair.
"Saul…thank you for coming here. I do need you. I need someone I know and can trust. Someone who knows what the war was like, who knows how to whip a green crew into shape."
"We'll get 'em there, Bill. And if the Cylons come calling, Galactica will make 'em sorry they came back in the end."
Following the fleet arrival at "new" Earth, just before Admiral Adama's final Viper flight off Galactica
Admiral Adama made his way to the launch tube. Crossing the port hangar deck, he could almost feel the ghosts of all those past crewmembers, pilots, Marines, and civilians who had passed through this ship.
He could remember the war, the first war, how he felt on his first combat flight.
He could see the Viper Mark II under the tarps and Chief Tyrol and his deck gang stood smiling around him…the Raptor with Saul Tigh returning from New Caprica following the rescue…Laura Roslin arriving for one of her countless visits to the ship…Lee, Starbuck, Helo, Sharon, Kat, each returning from a different mission.
As he crossed the deck he remembered naming the Blackbird, remembered Ellen Tigh and Boomer emerging from a stolen Raptor after escaping the Cylon colony, the carnage after a flare killed thirteen pilots just after the Cylon attacks, the blood of his lover Jaycie McGavin as they brought her out of her damaged Raptor.
He'd once told Boomer that the ship held a lot of memories, a lot of ghosts. He'd told her she couldn't draw all those ghosts into the cockpit with her. Now, as he approached the launch tube where that same old Viper Mark II that Chief Tyrol and his crew had restored waited for it's final flight, he remembered the wisdom of those words. Now, nine years after he'd taken command and fifty years after he'd first set foot aboard her, he was leaving Galactica for the final time. The wars were over, the Cylons finally beaten, and mankind had a new home.
Adama entered the launch bay control booth, checking the settings one more time. He'd considered a long tour through the ship, but in the end he preferred a short goodbye. Best to leave those ghosts behind, like he'd told Boomer so many years ago. Setting the launch control to trigger from the cockpit of his Viper, he entered the tube and started the doors closing.
Only then did he realize that he was in the same launch tube that he'd flown his first combat mission from, and by a stroke of fate he was about to fly the same Viper he'd flown on that mission. Seems fate still has one or two surprises left for me.
Adama turned to the now closed launch tube door. He only had a few moments before the launch tube systems started opening the outer bay doors, which would depressurize the tube. Goodbye, old girl. You did it…you brought us home. Time to rest, now, for good. As he turned to climb into the cockpit, he looked up at the curved wall of the tube, where he saw a long list of names…an old tradition, apparently carried on even by the nuggets Starbuck had trained after the destruction of the colonies, the names of every pilot who had flown their first combat mission from this tube, engraved into the bulkhead. Near the bottom of the list he saw "Brendan 'Hot Dog' Costanza"…looking up, near the top, he saw "William 'Husker' Adama". Smiling just a bit, he climbed into the cockpit for his last flight, and for just a moment everything else disappeared…it was just him, the Viper, the tube, and Galactica.
Yes, old girl…you brought us home one last time.