Disclaimer: The author does not own Battlestar Galactica. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. All of the original characters and such are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise, and does not profit from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: First of all, thank you to anyone actually reading this right now. Secondly, as you can see I went ahead and joined the original Night Flight with Imagined and am proud to present the new and improved Night Flight (I decided to keep the name, obviously). Thank you to everyone who expressed an opinion either in favor or against, well, this. I hope you all with stick with me. I promise you that while updates may be few and far between, they are coming.
Just be patient with me. I will not REPEAT will not abandon any of my work until I say otherwise. If I ever abandon this I WILL tell you, I will not just disappear (if that happens, as morbid as I feel just typing it, then something probably happened to me).
This will both include many of the things that I already wrote for the original Night Flight and contain new scenes/characters as well. I'm really excited for this and I hope you all are as well. To anyone who has seen or at least read about the original series: don't get too excited/worried yet. This story does prominently feature two characters (Sheba and Serina) from the original series, but their stories are being vastly rewritten.
Please enjoy the new and improved Night Flight!
Colonial Heavy 798—
Caprica Times reporter Serina Boxman dropped into her seat with a sigh just as the Eversun starliner departed from Caprica. She had known ahead of time that the Times was sending her (and another reporter, McManus, whom Serina didn't particularly like) to the decommissioning of the Battlestar Galactica, and had intended to go to bed early the night before and get a full night's rest for once.
Instead, her sister had showed up with the complete first season of Aphrodite the Beautiful, enough sweets and alcohol to make sure they were both in comas by morning, and tears in her eyes. The Boxman women never had much luck with men. Serina's divorce, her sister's three, and their mother's eight made that fact startlingly clear. Serina had sent her son Boxey to bed and comforted her sister as best she could.
The reporter closed her eyes and leaned back in her rather comfortable chair. The inside of the passenger compartment was kept cool and the noise level was a dull murmur. She opened her eyes a moment later and started going through her brief case. She'd been in such a rush to get out the door, she'd barely remembered to pack everything she needed. It would take a few hours to get to the Galactica, a few for the ceremony, and then the starliner would head back.
She hoped it wouldn't take too long. Serina loved her sister, but she knew that the other woman didn't have any real experience with children. Boxey could be quite the handful sometimes. Her sister was also terrified of dogs. Muffit, though sweet and playful, would be a problem for her.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. Welcome aboard. We are on route to Galactica, and our estimated flight time is approximately five and a half hours. Please sit back and relax, and enjoy your flight."
Checking her bag, Serina made sure that she'd packed her things. In her rush to get out the door and make it to the starliner before they left without her, she hadn't paid the best attention as she got ready. To her immense relief, she found her recorder and her press badge inside. If McManus had found out she'd left her stuff behind, he'd never let her live it down. She pulled the badge out, hung it around her neck, and settled back for the flight.
"Attention all hands. At this time, Galactica would like to welcome aboard the Secretary of Education, Laura Roslin. The Secretary is a member of the President's cabinet; we're honored by her presence aboard our ship, and her participation this afternoon in Galactica's decommissioning ceremony."
Galactica was beautiful, Serina decided as they docked. The ship had looked grand and majestic from the outside and her inner child was itching to do some exploring. She considered bringing her son to see the Battlestar once it had been officially turned into a museum. She was certain he'd love it. Boxey loved all things relating to the Colonial Fleet and had been very excited when he heard that his mother would be at the decommissioning ceremony for the Galactica.
Sadly, Serina's exploration would have to wait. The minute she stepped out Galactica's deck, she and the rest of the reporters were guided off towards a special room onboard and out of the way of the crews working. The room had been set up for the reporters to take their publicity photos (and to keep them out of the way, Serina suspected). Having forgotten her camera, Serina lingered in the back of the room.
The assortment of journalists chatted amongst themselves as they waited. Commander Adama and his son were due to arrive soon and, until then, they had no choice but to wait. Serina helped herself to some coffee. About ten minutes later, Serina had already finished her cup of coffee and had started to record her physical descriptions of the Galactica into her recorder, compiling material for her article.
A man who looked to be in his mid-thirties entered the room, wearing a blue suit and a tie. He introduced himself as Aaron Doral, a public relations executive. "If all of you could just come over here," he directed, guiding the reporters into a clump. Without a camera, Serina settled for perching on the table next to the coffee. McManus would take plenty of shots. Besides, she wanted to focus her article on the history of the Galactica. McManus had been assigned to take pictures, while the Times wanted Serina to write about the events.
McManus was a good photographer and Serina was a good writer. They didn't like each other, but they did make a good team.
Commander Adama entered the room. He shook hands with Doral and, ignoring the reporters, moved to the back of the room.
Serina smiled. The man obviously did not like journalists. Most people didn't.
Doral spoke to her fellow reporters, giving them a few background details on the Galactica. He said nothing that Serina hadn't already learned from her son whom, after Serina had told him she was going and 'no' he couldn't come along, had rattled off everything he knew. "Now we just have to wait for Captain Adama and then we can begin," Doral said. "Oh, here he is. If you'd just like to, ah, put a little space. Captain, thank you for joining us."
Captain Adama moved through the crowd of reporters as Doral spoke. He wore his dress uniform. What he looked like, Serina couldn't tell. His back was turned to her. He entered as silently as his father, probably just as unhappy with the reporters, and she could tell that he was tense.
Doral extended a hand to the Captain. "Hi, Aaron Doral," he introduced himself. "If you'd just like to stand up there, we'll get a few shots of you and the Commander." The commander came down from the stage to stand next to his son in front of a podium bearing the Galactica's insignia. Captain Adama stood next to him, ignoring his father's greeting.
When Captain Adama turned around, Serina's breath caught in her throat. Captain Adama was gorgeous. His Caprican sky blue eyes locked on her own brown ones. Serina smiled slightly at the man and was pleased when he smiled back. She looked away with a blush.
Serina had never considered herself to be the timid, schoolgirl type, but couldn't control her reaction. 'It's been a long time,' she thought and, for a brief second, she thought about Boxey's father. She hadn't heard from the man lately. Even though they'd divorced, they still spoke from time to time for the sake of their son. He was supposed to have called that morning once he was back from the Armistice station.
She didn't know if he had.
The reporter returned her attention to the front of the room when Doral spoke.
"Ah, okay gentlemen, could you, maybe, stand a bit closer?" They both took a step towards one another. "Fantastic." Doral looked back at the reporters as they snapped their pictures then back at the two Adamas. "Commander, could you put your arm around your son?" The older man hesitated at Doral's request, but did so after a moment. "Great, perfect."
More cameras clicked as Serina slid off the table. Straightening her skirt, she smiled again at the Captain who looked like he was struggling. She didn't know what had happened between the father and son to strain their relationship, and figured that it was none of her business anyway. The Captain's eyes flickered between Serina and the multiple cameras. She would be lying to say that she wasn't flattered she could draw his attention.
After her divorce, Serina had felt like pretty much the most undesirable woman in the Colonies.
"Okay, thank you very much. See you at the ceremony," Doral said to the Adamas. He turned to face the group of journalists. "We'll just be leaving this, through this doorway, and, and to our right," Doral said, leading the reporters out of the room. With one last glance at Captain Adama, Serina followed the group.
The PA sounded. "Attention honor guard detail, report to starboard hanger bay. Honor guard detail, report to starboard hanger 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... [a long pause, Commander Adama looks at the crowd] but sometimes it's too high. You know, when we fought the Cylons, we did it to save ourselves from extinction. But we never answered the question: Why?
Why are we as a people worth saving? We still commit murder because of greed, spite, jealousy. And we still visit all of our sins upon our children. We refuse to accept the responsibility for anything that we've done. Like we did with the Cylons. We decided to play the gods, create life.
When that life turned against us, we comforted ourselves in the knowledge that it really wasn't our fault, not really. You cannot play the gods then wash your hands of the things that you've created. Sooner or later, the day comes when you can't hide from the things that you've done anymore."
Battlestar Night Flight—
Lieutenant Sheba Cain was frakked. Royally frakked. She swore internally. There was no way. She'd lost and there was nothing she could do about it. She could either go down gracefully or go out swinging. Her mother had always told her that Cain's were dignified. They didn't crack under pressure and they didn't flinch in the face of defeat.
She smiled wryly, eyeing her opponent from across the table. It was hard to believe she was going to be defeated by an ass like him. Then again, she really should've seen it coming. She'd been losing for a while now. "Is this how you get your jollies? Beating girls?" she glared at him. "You make me sick," she spat.
"Gods! Sheba, if your hand sucks then fold."
Sheba rolled her eyes and did just that, throwing her cards down onto the table with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, I'm out. You're such a buzzkill, Nate."
Flight Sergeant Jolly laughed. "Hey, at least you didn't invite him to your bachelor party."
"What a night that must've been," Sheba laughed too, picturing what poor Jolly's party must have been like in her mind. "Captain Tightass Bojay, I bet he's a real party killer." She leaned forward and rested her hand on Jolly's arm, "I'm sorry you had to go through that. It must've sucked."
Jolly smirked over his own cards, which he still held in his hands as he debated what move to make next. "Nah," he shook his head, "I mean, at first it did, but then we got him drunk."
Sheba howled with laughter at that. "You're kidding? Nate? Drunk? Tell me someone made videos."
"My sister's got a copy. I bet I can get her to send it to us."
"That's enough," Bojay said, blushing a bit. Oh, now Sheba had to see that video. Anything that made Captain Tightass blush had to be something worth seeing. It would probably make excellent blackmail material too. It would be nice to have the CAG in her back pocket.
"I'll pay the fare," Sheba offered instantly. "Tell me there were lap dances. Oh my gods, tell me Mister Perfect Pilot over here got a lap dance," she demanded. She'd pay for overnight shipment if there were lap dances.
Jolly just grinned widely in reply. "You'll have to wait and see."
Oh she couldn't wait to get her hands on that video.
"No one will be seeing anything," Bojay snapped, throwing down his own cards and standing, his embarrassment turning into anger. "I was drunk, it was a mistake."
"I know. That's why I need the video. For blackmail." Sheba leaned back in her chair and looked up at Bojay. "Think of all those times you made me feel like crap for partying. You threw me in the brig once!" she suddenly remembered. She turned to look at Jolly, "He left me there, all night. Said I needed to think about what I've done." She turned back to Bojay. "You're gonna make a great dad. A tightass. But a great dad."
"Watch yourself, Princess," Bojay warned, "you wouldn't want to end up in the brig again." The two glared at each other, before each cracking a smile. Despite their differences, Sheba and Bojay were more or less friends. They'd been flying together for a long time, both having been posted to the Night Flight around the same time. "Come on, Sheba," he said, his tone much lighter. "You need to pack," he reminded her.
"Pack?" Jolly asked as he finished off his drink and collected his winnings. He tossed his cards down, since Bojay had bowed out there was no need to play his hand. Not that he wasn't about to wipe the floor with Bojay anyway. Jolly was a great card player and regularly won his fellow pilot's money. "Finally taking some leave?"
Sheba nodded as she stood up, finishing off her own drink as well. "Yep. Mom and I agreed to go home." Sheba and her mother were alike in many ways, one of those ways being that they worked too much. Sheba was, however, more likely to take leave after long periods of time and so when she'd heard her mother would have a shore leave opportunity at the same time as her, she jumped at the chance. "We haven't spent much time together lately, but both our ships have been scheduled for overhauls. How's that for luck?"
"Well," Jolly smiled. "Have a good trip."
She saluted the man as she and Bojay left the rec room together. "Thank you, Sergeant. See you later."
Bojay and Sheba walked through the corridors, mindful of the techs strolling up and down them, all working on something or another. The Night Flight had docked at the shipyard only a few hours ago, but in that time the techs had already taken most of the systems offline in order to be upgraded.
The two pilots made their way towards their shared duty locker, chatting about Bojay's own plans for leave. The CAG had plans to visit his own family. Like Sheba, most of Bojay's family was or had been in the military. As much as she teased him for being so uptight, both of their families were full of straight-laced military types. Their friendship had only begun because, despite being almost polar opposites, they understood the pressures that came with having famous Fleet officers in the family.
They both shared the same drive to make their respective families proud and, though they didn't talk about it, they both resented their families a little bit. From the moment they had been born their futures had been decided. Of course, they both liked their jobs and couldn't imagine doing anything else, but sometimes, if they were being honest, they both had to admit that it would have been nice to have at least been asked what they wanted to do with their lives.
For Bojay it had been his father and for Sheba her mother.
Sheba was excited to see her mother though. It'd been so long since they'd last seen each other. Their schedules never seemed to line up and this opportunity was a blessing. Her mother had mentioned, last time they had talked, that she wanted to introduce Sheba to someone, which Sheba took as a good sign. Her mother had been lonely ever since her father's death just a little over six years ago.
She hoped her mother was finally moving on.
Not that Sheba didn't miss her father, but it pained her to see her mom shying away from happiness at the thought of 'betraying' her father's memory.
"Man, they must being taking half the systems down for this," Bojay commented suddenly as the lights flickered along the corridors. "It's a wonder anything still works—"
Some of the lights along the corridors exploded and both pilots found themselves thrown into bulkheads.
Commander Matthew Zabat swore aloud as the entire ship rocked violently out of the blue. Consoles exploded, people were thrown, and warning alarms blared loudly. "What the frak was that?" his XO, Colonel Irene Praxis, shouted as she pulled herself back up from the floor. "What is going on? Someone say something!" she demanded angrily.
"Nukes," the tactical officer, Lieutenant Komma, coughed as he righted himself. He had a open wound across his forehead. "Multiple hits."
"Weapons?"
"Offline for the overhaul," Commander Zabat reminded the Colonel. "Everything we've got is offline." He rapidly tried to devise a plan on action. If they had no weapons, fighting back was out of the question. They would have to rely on other Battlestars. He looked up at the DRADIS and felt his heart sink. There was a lot more red then green, more enemies than allies. It looked like they were going to need to rely on themselves. "Status of the rest of the ships in the yard," he demanded.
The communications officer, Petty Officer Brison, let out a shaky breath. "Oh my gods… Something's wrong… nothing's working."
"What do you mean 'nothing's working'?" Praxis asked, angry. She refused to believe that an entire Fleet of Colonial ships were suddenly inactive. Only three ships currently docked in the yard were supposed to be offline. The others should be fully functional.
"Their systems aren't working!" Brison reported as he listened to the com traffic, a look of horror on his face. "They can't fight back. Their Vipers… their Vipers are out of control…" Th young man paled. "Cylons," he said, shocked. "It's Cylons."
Commander Zabat made up his mind.
"Spool up the FTL," he ordered his people sharply. There was no time to delay, no time to second guess his choice. "Sever our docking connections and seal all the hatches. We're jumping and we've got to do it now." The ship rocked as it took another hit. "Now!" he repeated at the top of his lungs and everyone jumped into action.
"Where are we even jumping to?" Praxis frowned. "Matt, we have to stay and fight," she argued. She couldn't stand the thought of leaving in the middle of a battle. She wanted to stay and fight. The thought of letting the Cylons drive her from her home, the thought of them obliterating the Fleet and not even trying to do anything about it made her ill.
"With what weapons?" Zabat questioned. "Right now we're nothing more than another target to pick off. I'm getting our people out of here. Plot a jump. Any jump and let's get the hell out of here."
Commander Zabat could see already that this was a fight they could not win, though it pained him to admit it. It was realistic though, the Cylons were back and they'd found a way to take over the systems of other ships somehow, to shut the ships down. It was the only thing that made sense. Only three ships in the yard should be down, but all of them were. And with no weapons, they were powerless to do anything.
The Night Flight needed to get to safety immediately.
"Sir, we have incoming missiles," Brison shouted. "Fifteen seconds to impact."
Colonel Praxis closed her eyes and said a quick prayer. She prayed that, wherever they were, her family was alright. She prayed they and everyone else who could still do so made it to safety. She prayed for her crew. She not-so-subtly grasped Zabat's hand and he gripped hers tightly in return. "Gods, protect us," she whispered. She would have rather fought, but she could see that there was nothing to be done. It hurt to leave, but, like the commander, she knew that if they were going to survive they had no other options.
"Ten seconds!"
"Where's my damn FTL?" Zabat barked, growing nervous as the nukes grew closer and closer to his ship and they could do nothing.
"FTL spooling, sir," Komma said, his own nerves making his voice shake.
"Five seconds to impact!"
"FTL online!"
"Jump!" Zabat and Praxis shouted in unison.
Colonial Heavy 798—
Standing in front of the mirror, Serina mulled over Commander Adama's speech. Colonial Heavy 798 had begun it's return trip to Caprica City shortly after the ceremony had ended. She had seen the man disregard his notecards, deviating from his planned speech, and, while the overall reactions had been mixed, Serina couldn't help but see wisdom in the man's words. Not many took the time to ask such a simple question. Most likely because there was no simple answer.
She did wonder, however, what prompted his speech.
The woman washed her hands in the sink, straightened her hair a bit and adjusted her blouse before leaving the small bathroom. Returning to her seat, Serina busied herself with reviewing the material she had collected. She was halfway through listening to a recording of a deckhand telling her about the work that had gone into turning the Galactica into a museum when she looked up and realized the Captain of the ship was in the middle of an announcement.
She pulled off her headphones just in time to hear the tail end of his announcement. "Once again, we are processing the information that we have been given, and I urge you all to try to stay calm. As we get more information, I will pass it along to you. We appreciate your patience. Thank you."
Murmurs of conversation filled the cabin and Serina leaned over to the McManus in the next aisle. "James, what's happening?" she asked.
"Something's wrong," he said with a confused frown. "He said something about not being able to establish radio contact with Caprica."
"Are we in range?"
The man shrugged, "We must be by now."
Serina straightened in her seat, wearing a confused frown of her own. A sense of worry filled her and she gazed out the window at the stars.
When Secretary Roslin made an announcement of her own later that night, Serina's heart stopped cold in her heart. The sense of worry morphed into shock, numbness, and then her worry returned tenfold. 'Boxey' she thought, her heart beating rapidly in fear at the thought of her son. 'Oh Gods, Boxey.'
Serina prayed then. She prayed that her son and sister were alright, crossing her fingers and mumbling under her breath. "Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer. Please let them be alive. Please." She could here others around her saying similar things. Others were shouting out questions to the Secretary.
"Stop. Please, stop," she said, cutting through her voices. "Please, I'm trying to reach the government right now to get more information. In the meantime, we should all be prepared for an extended stay aboard this ship, okay? So, uh, you, please, and you," she pointed at the flight attendants, "take an inventory of the emergency supplies and rations," she instructed.
Doral, having changed from his blue suit, objected. "Wait a minute, who put you in charge?"
Secretary Roslin stared at him for a moment. "Well, that's a good question," she said, though her tone suggested otherwise. "The answer is no one, but this is a government ship and I am the senior government official, so that puts me in charge. So why don't you help me out, and go down into the cargo area, and see about setting it up as a living space." She turned her back on Doral. "Everyone else, please, please, try and stay calm. Thank you."
Serina stared out the window at darkness that stretched on and on. Most of the passengers were elsewhere. McManus, she knew, was helping move the "L containers" around in order to make room for survivors. Other ships had already started to show up. Serina could see a few from her seat.
She looked across as Secretary Roslin sat down across from her. The older woman looked exhausted. Serina offered her a tentative smile. "It's good to see you again, Madam Secretary. Just wish it was under better circumstances."
Secretary Roslin looked confused. "I'm sorry, have we met?" she asked.
The brunette nodded. "I interviewed you when you first became the Secretary of Education. Your plans to improve the Colonial education system?" Serina prompted.
Roslin nodded slowly. "That's right. Ms. Boxman." Serina nodded.
She looked over to her right as a man sat down next to her. She recognized him as Captain Adama. Instead of his dress uniform, though, he was wearing a green flight suit. Unlike Roslin and Serina, he sat on the edge of his seat whereas the two women leaned back against the cushions. He smiled at the reporter slightly before turning to the Secretary. "How far down?" he asked. Serina, confused, turned to face the Secretary as well.
The other woman sat silent for a moment before replying. "Forty-third in line of succession," she admitted. "I know all forty-two ahead of me from the President down. Most of us served with him in the first administration." She stared up at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts. "Some of them came with him from the Mayor's office. I was there with him on his first campaign. I never really liked politics; I kept telling myself I was getting out, but... he had this way about him. Just couldn't say no to him."
The pilot appeared then. In his hand he held a piece of paper. He handed it to the Secretary, it trembled slightly. The Secretary accepted the sheet from the grey-haired man. "Thank you," she whispered after reading it. She sniffed, shrugged off her blanket, and put her jacket back on. "We'll need a priest."
The pilot nodded and the Secretary stood and followed him away. Captain Adama and Serina watched the two disappear in search of the woman from the decommissioning ceremony. Elosha, Serina believed her name was.
"I'm Serina, by the way," Serina said quietly. "Serina Boxman." She held out her hand to the Captain.
He looked at her and then extended his own hand. "Lee Adama." The two shook hands.
Elosha unrolled her scroll with steady hands. Serina stood next to Captain Adama, to the right and slightly behind Laura Roslin. The reporters on board had pulled out their cameras and their recorders. Serina couldn't bring herself to look at her own. Who was she going to report to anyway? When the priest spoke, she spoke very evenly. Serina envied the woman's calm.
"Please raise your right hand and repeat after me," Elosha began. Roslin did so and Elosha continued, "I, Laura Roslin."
"I, Laura Roslin," she repeated, voice breaking with suppressed tears. After Elosha said it, Roslin repeated, "Do now avow and affirm."
Elosha moved on, "That I take the office of the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."
"That I accept the office of the," she stopped. Serina closed her eyes. Thoughts of her sister and son had begun to return to her mind. All forty-two cabinet members before Roslin were gone. What did that mean for the people of the Colonies? How many of them were left? Roslin took a breath then said, "That I accept the office of the President of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."
"And that I will protect and defend the sovereignty of the Colonies."
"And that I will protect and defend the sovereignty of the Colonies."
"With every fiber of my being," Elosha finished.
"With every fiber of my being," Laura Roslin, once Secretary of Education and newly dubbed President of the Colonies, echoed.
Silence.