Cavalry of the Battlestar: Chapter 1
By: Will Crudge
The fuel stores were nearly depleted as the failing fleet passes through the seemingly endless void. An aged and tired Admiral Adama sat quietly in his quarters, caressing his glass of liquor. His tired mind pondered many things these days. Many decisions and sacrifices had to be made, just to keep the fleet moving. The Galactica was already ancient by the time of the Colonies' destruction years ago. Now, like the admiral, the proud warship was barely functional. Admiral Adama slowly placed his glass on the table beside him and then rubbed weariness from his eyes.
Dusty was the cover of Adama's Book of the Word, as he had not read it in years. Running his fingers by its weather bindings, he cracked at feint smile, as he realized he and the book had a single commonality. He figured he and the book were both old and wise, but as of yet incomplete. Without another thought, he opened the cover. He thumbed through the pages as he kept within the most ancient parts of the book. He had had always been required to think outside the box in his career to succeed or survive. But years of this thought process being forced upon him, he couldn't help but let it affect his stance on faith. Adama had never been accused of being religious in a mystical sense. He had merely looked at the scriptures of his beloved colonies as being a historical account of his people's origins. However, in the past few years, with minimal contact with Cylons, suitable planets to replenish supplies, and ships in the fleet beginning to show their age, it would seem his last hope to keep his mind right was to think outside the box once again.
Adama read the early passages which chronicled the later Lords of Kobol. Then it dawned on him. There really weren't many Lords of Kobol to begin with. He had no idea of the implications of what he had just realized. Why? If they were the fathers of all mankind, and the Book of the Word only recorded nine generations, then what was the state of humanity prior? Two many questions flooded his mind, as he began to entertain these new thoughts with an excitement he hadn't felt in months. He began to consider the possibility that Kobol itself was either just a colony of humanity, or the Lords of Kobol snuffed out millennia of cultural history in a few short generations. The latter of the two possibilities seemed far less likely, since it would be humanities nature to resist such imposement.
Many questions seemed to bombard his mind as he continued to read for clues to authenticate his realization. If the people of Kobol had the ability to traverse the cosmos at the scale and speed the Book of the Word says they did, then their level of technology may have exceeded that of the Colonies at their peak! This thought came as the Admiral had remembered that for over a thousand year period in Colonial History, they had lost the ability to travel in space. He remembered how thousands of years earlier, due to a series of civil wars, unforeseen climate changes on seven of the twelve colonies, and outbreaks of disease, the Colonies had been thrown back to a pre-space travel level of civilization. It took countless centuries to regain lost knowledge, and to reintroduce each of the Colonies to each other. Could this mean our brothers on Earth may have preserved the lost technological superiority of our past? This was Adama's only hope for humanity to take a stand against the scourge of humanity's creation and arrogance.
A chilling notion then crept up his spine, as the old warrior put down the book and poured another drinkOr would they finally stumble upon an Earth with little remaining of a once great civilization consumed by their own technology and arrogance. He didn't have time to finish his thought. The incessant buzzing of the now ragged coms unit filled the Admiral's quarters. He put the handset to his cheek. "Admiral Adama." He answered, as he consciously fought the liquor from slurring his words.
"Sir, we need you in the CIC!" Adama instantly recognized Major Hotdog's voice, as Hotdog doesn't say much unless he means it.
"What's the situation?" The Admiral said.
"Multiple DRADUS contacts, -----most likely Cylon Raiders! And they don't look like they want to engage in open negotiations! Nukes detected!" Hotdog spat off. A sudden feeling of falling began in the depths of the Admiral's stomach, as he digested the words.
"I'm on my way." Adama hung up the handset, walked to the mirror near the door. He stopped to check his uniform before he headed to the CIC. He ignored his aged complexion and weakened frame, and made sure his buttons were buttoned and his collar laying flat. Since he wasn't walking with the same pep in his stride as he used to, they wouldn't expect him to arrive as quickly as he used to as age was catching up to him. Besides, if he was to die, he might as well look sharp doing it, he thought. With a hit of a smile, he stepped out of the door and walked towards his fate.