Battlestar Pegasus - Pilot Briefing Room
Noel Allison rubbed his chin; he was clean shaven and just doing it because he liked the sensation while he and a couple of other minds got together and wondered what they were doing. Cole Taylor didn't look the least bit happy and Red Squadron commander Marcia Case didn't look like she was going to give him an opportunity to vent. They idled in the Pilot's Ready Room and waited a special briefing from the XO. All the pilots would be there but they were just a bit early. Scuttlebutt was taking hold in the short time Pegasus had been abruptly and unceremoniously told to spool up her FTL. They had to be ready to execute jump coordinates when Fleet Headquarters got back to them. It was a big deal: you didn't pull the biggest baddest Battlestar in the Fleet off what it was doing- even if it was holding an intra system station- without something being up. There were already lots of rumours to the eventual destination and task, even with one rather casual betting pool set-up. Taylor was an arsehole- otherwise the Lieutenant, Allison, would have given odds along with the major idea for what Pegasus was being told to be ready for:
"They say it's a Tauron mission that's strayed over the Armistice Line and we're going to get them back."
Case's cool blue eyes didn't warm to that idea "Doesn't sound right but then I heard that Triton and Atlantia got a similar message to ours- and they've already acted on it. That wherever we're going, Bezerk's been sent on already."
"Who told you that?" Taylor sharply inquired
"Couple of Communication officers," she answered "say the only reason we're staying back is because they want us to pick up a special person."
"Who's so special?" Allison asked
Case shrugged "Anyway they say whatever the reason it's a big deal. Colonial Fleet doesn't quietly shove three Battlestar Groups off for giggles. But when you look at some of the messages flying about that sounds like exactly what they're trying to do."
"I'm not laughing," Taylor sulked "we're doing good work here in the Erebos."
Allison scoffed which he regretted the moment Taylor's eyes shifted onto him "Hey-" half back peddling "I know we're kicking ass and taking names but a Battlestar Escort could do the kind of stuff we're doing here. You don't need Pegasus to bust two-bit Tauron smugglers trying to get a caseload of Promethium into the hands of Ha'la'tha- or whatever. That sounds outrageous enough to be a movie plot then serious security concern."
"Frak you're flippant about it." Taylor snarled
"Look," Allison tried to stop him getting too testy "Just saying we're the worlds best fighting outfit. Not cops. What are the Intelligence Services doing right?"
Before Cole Taylor could get out a thought Jurgen Belzen, the ships' XO entered and he seemed a bit surprised to see the three there:
"Stinger, Showboat, Narcho," he acknowledged them "Why so early?"
Case answered "Our training operation was cancelled when we got the order to standby."
"Oh right," Belzen nodded and remembered that a big drill had been planned, arranged by the Wing for today "sorry about that but what we're going to do instead is pretty big."
"What is it sir?" Allison asked "any idea."
"We're picking up a Mister Amarak: Ministry of Defence... brilliant mind I'm informed and then we head out of system."
Case tried her luck this time "To do what sir?"
"You'll find out," Belzen checked his watch "all our pilots should be turning up soon enough."
"I don't get it." Taylor was sneering at the thought he couldn't follow what was going on around him. The XO seemed happy enough with that and he cryptically hinted through a half smile:
"We'll be rewriting history."
Clear Space - Pegasus reversion point
34 hours later
Noel "Narcho" Allison shot out the launch tube the moment he got on top of the urge to throw up in his helmet: you never got used to jumps. His Mark Seven hit the stars at good pace and he dialled up Pegasus CIC. Got a vector pointing along the nose of the Beast and reoriented to follow.
"Come on Green Squadron," He sounded impatient over the wireless "Form up on me."
Whiplash had snuggled in under his port wing, a good wingman. He heard the challenge and acknowledgement of the Battlestar Pegasus by a Viper element saying they were off Triton echoing in his ear. Patched in by Pegasus, then he caught the relevant pair of Triton Vipers on his DRADIS in front of him; they'd appear out of the black as thin gunmetal silhouettes soon enough at his closing speed. He got orders to slot in under their command. He didn't like that idea, he was a pretty experienced pilot and he thought he'd be able to run his patrol without supervision. When the Triton Viper Lead came on the wireless and told him to scatter his formation the feeling only intensified. In an instant the Pegasus Squadron was dissolved and pointed out towards the edge of the recovery line to stand guard over a great new find.
Narcho had been told earlier he was part of a newly put together Task Group that was guarding a discovery so wondrous it had the potential to change the way Colonials saw the space they lived in. It was tentatively called 'the object' and really no one had any ideas what it did, that much was commonly known. Surprisingly general non-disclosures had been signed before then. Now there were rumours it was an incredible power source; that it was made of materials unheard of, not comprehendible and amazingly strong and that it was some relic of the Lords of Kobol. Narcho hadn't believed in the Gods really, truly but he was ready to question his lack of faith in light of this discovery. Doctor Amarak, the man they'd waited on, would be one of the team that would make the discoveries and his name would go down in history. Til then the Pegasus and three other Battlestars present were acting as the security and temporary home of operations...
Battlestar Pegasus - Pilot Locker
8 days later
Marcia "Showboat" Case had the fine features of old world nobility, and could carry herself with a distinguished air. Now though she wasn't as she slumped over a table reading the new 'gag order' she was expected to sign and comply with as someone who'd come within visual distance of 'the object'. Everyone on the ship had to tick off on something like it, most did without reading; she was one of the small minority that read it. No acknowledgement that they were here was to be made to anyone at all. Not family, not partners, not anyone... you just magically lost a span of your life to nothing worth mentioning and that was it. Prosecution was clearly and explicitly set out as a punishment along with all sorts of other nasties that made this all seem a little too serious a deal for them playing 'dig site security'.
They'd been here a week or so while a trickle of shuttles arrived and departed with equipment that was likely going to be used on 'the object'. The properties of the thing made it invisible to DRADIS. It was supposed to be made out of an unknown material that could withstand tremendous amounts of energy: easily shrug off a Battlestar bombardment after presenting nothing but a hard lock for gunners, and it didn't take a genius to realise part of keeping this thing under wraps was so the Military could try and make sense of it- and in the best case figure out how to replicate the material before the next run of Battlestars was laid down.
Case looked at the picture of 'the object' that had been hung up in her Locker; it wasn't anything like what was in the Scrolls though that didn't stop the enthusiasm surrounding the idea it was a relic of Kobol. It seemed old; even while efforts were being made to figure out whether there was a way to date it conclusively. She didn't know what to make of it and wondered if anyone ever really would when one of Red Squadron compatriots burst in:
"Gods they've activated it!"
Case shot out of her chair "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"
"It's running! The object- it fired up... they lit it and now it's running!"
Instead of is it safe, or was anyone hurt which Case had quietly thought would be the case- that it was a doomsday device- she asked "What does it do?"
Before an answer could come alarms rang and Case recognised Condition One had been set throughout the ship. That meant she had to get down to her Viper. She headed towards the door at speed and collected her Red Squadron charge along the way:
"Come on; let's get suited."
Battlestar Atlantia - CIC
Admiral Nagala stood down his Viper Squadrons rather quickly but the Raptors were kept out to continue taking readings and firing solutions were maintained. It was a bright core hugged by two long arms. He had Gaius Baltar to thank for the radical hypothesis and sheer ballsiness to prod it, ultimately activate it. Well really it might not be active, but the lights were on. Nagala wasn't a stupid man, but then he also had hindsight in his corner: Baltar wanted to understand what the object was and he knew Nagala wanted to do likewise. So Baltar had carefully tailored his observations and presented them in the right order to Nagala that it precluded any real argument or counter-thought on what the Admiral would sign off on.
The scientist had skilfully played the Military man in the lead up, understood what the Fleet had wanted out of this more clearly than any of the other 'experts' that had been assembled here with their differing hypotheses then conceptualised and dangled it in front of the Staff to get them supporting his agenda. Nagala resolved himself to be extra cautious around Baltar because as of now their objectives were shared, but the brilliant scientist had shown himself the type of man who chased his own glory and was willing to use anyone and anything to get there. He was no ally of the Fleet. But he had allowed them to understand what this was and Nagala would accommodate him. What the Colonies had in their possession was a shiny enigma. Baltar likely imagined it his play-thing. No, it was all of man's problem now. Until the Admiral was convinced otherwise.
Nagala had the glowing piece of space junk to deal with- that it was lit up was progress but to what end no one knew. It hadn't wiped them out... that was good though otherwise the Admiral was no closer to knowing what he wanted about it... that it was truly an asset to humanity. He already had probes being fashioned to be deployed again closer to the object... a part of him really wanted to get boots down on it.
Battlestar Galactica - Recreation Room
74 hours later
It had been days since the object had spun up and now there was a new buzz through the crew of the Galactica. Hammerhead shuffled into the Rec Room and awaited confirmation of an idea people had been waiting for Command to sign off on. They were going to send someone close to that thing. It had life now- it was big and bright and electric. Frakking ace. Apparently it had all been trial and error. That the object had been bombarded with probes and prodded til it had sparked and then more probes had been drifted towards it. Then it was realised you transmitted the right mass of the package and the probe would disappear. To where and what end no one knew. The most popular belief at the moment was that it was some kind of FTL transporter and they'd even had Raptors map the extent of the 'launch' corridor that you didn't want to be in unless you liked the idea of a one way ticket to the unknown.
But there was a rumbling within the ships assembled to send a manned team onwards... people were starting to believe this was the window to Elysium or something as crazy. Paradise: Frak Off. Still there was a pseudo religious, pseudo scientific push that somehow this was foretold in the scriptures and that somewhere in the Scrolls there was a reason to go on, and let yourself get taken away by this thing. There were already volunteers but no one had been authorised to lift off and fly out. People poured over the old books looking for an explaining reference. Admiral Nagala on the Atlantia was responsible for the call... well really the President was and Nagala would just relay that.
Progress on studying the object had ground to a halt on the back of the Triton leaving for the Colonies with most of what was known at the moment in quickly typed reports. It was likely a message would return, with the answer to whether or not people would be allowed to transport themselves to places unknown. Hammerhead took a seat around a game of Triad between Starbuck, the XO, the CAG and a couple others. While the eggheads did their calculations and divined through science that it was 'good to go' they had time to kill.
Turian Cruiser - Flying Deck
Concurrently on the 'other side' of the Relay
Pulcher Illo was not long out of Boot Camp and formally a citizen of the Turian Heirarchy. He was seventeen turns of the home world around the home star and two of his long digits into service for the state. He wasn't part of the Corps of Engineers or Police or Administration, he was a pilot and had been streamed into the fighter and interceptor program. He stood to his full height, uniformed and at attention while he was inspected. The troop leader gave him a thorough looking over, getting under his nose and into his face... very close, necessary to make the young pilot feel uncomfortable and test that his composure would hold. After the longest time the troop leader yelled in pilot Illo's face that he should spend more time pressing his uniform before clutching his sleeve tightly and leaving folds. It was a good inspection then.
The troop leader moved down the line; this cruiser had a team of ten pilots assigned to its patrol. There wasn't much they were expected to do and it was the shuttle pilots that got the most fly-time, with boarding and inspection duties. So the fighter and interceptor team stayed sharp by drilling and maintaining the art of soldiering along with study of the techniques of modern fighter warfare. After presenting they would likely move to the briefing room and be given the schedule for today's training runs, along with the list of tasks that had to be completed before they were expected to train. General ship duties. This rather basic principle to their routine had been ongoing since the cruise began.
Pulcher Illo noted that the troop leader had stopped his inspection of the next pilot down the line and was taking a communication, likely from the bridge; this was not routine. Neither was the tone of the shouted orders:
"Right face, briefing room: march!" The pilots spun on the spot towards the door in crisp sounding unison then moved at a half run- the Fighter Corp moved at a quicker step than standard Turian units to advertise the higher level of fitness, dedication and commitment it demanded. With the perfectly timed sound of ten sets of boots on deck the pilots made for the briefing room.
Fifteen minutes afterwards
A hologram showed an active Mass Relay, not to scale; orbiting a dark gas giant that otherwise had no satellites. A tactical officer had descended from the bridge to explain the situation that presented to all the pilots clustered around her:
"This is Relay Four Five Two; anchored to the planet GG-XI and documented as a primary type with a partner not known to us. Accordingly it is to remain dormant by Citidel Law. Last observed by a scout not long ago it was active and depositing small transmitting devices... likely surveillance drones from the other end." The Officer did not elaborate any further on the scenario "We have been given orders as the closest asset to make haste to the site and prepare a defensive line. We will hold this line until reinforced by our Legion. We have been authorised to engage anything that arrives through that Relay as in violation of Citadel Protocols. The fighter element embarked is to be prepared for operations aimed at disabling drones already present. Shuttle teams will recover.
"You will be fully armed and fuelled and expected to spend large amounts of time on station as part of our holding formation. As tactical information and advice on what we face becomes available you will be made aware of it. For now we are operating against a hostile force of which we have little understanding and will remain conscious of such fact until overwhelming force is brought to bear. Mobilisation has begun. We expect frigates to arrive shortly after us at the site, we will take some time to get there ourselves." though it wasn't communicated the Tactical Officer had been to get there with no wastage of time and prepare
"But we further factor for the arrival of a cruiser group before the next two weekly cycles are complete."
With salutes and the signals of acknowledgement from all assembled the briefing was dismissed. The cruiser was concurrently making preparations to go faster than light and it was expected by the time it arrived at Relay Four Five Two it would be ready for action. They were rushing to contain a breach in Citadel Space.
