Battlestar Hermes
'The Slum'
39 Days since 'The Fall'
Maria Tyler was nineteen years old from Tauron. She was born into a working class family that knew very little of the twelve worlds outside their own small town in which they lived. Her father was the local postman and every morning he would make his way to the post office to gather the letters and deliver them to the town's people. Her mother worked part time in the local general store while Maria hadn't long started her own job at a florist shop in a nearby town. While on her way to work she would drop off her eleven year old brother at school and pick him up again on her way home.
It was a quaint life but an unimportant one. So why then had she become the focus of attention for the bulky man who had come to see her that morning as she lay on her bunk that she shared with her little brother in 'The Slum'? Their whole world had now been reduced to this one small space just over two meters long and almost a meter high and wide. Except when the civilians went to the Marines distributing food near the entrance there was little to do all day except sit in the squalor of these bunks that were now their home.
Maria had survived the destruction of the colonies purely by chance. When the bombs started falling on Tauron she was walking home from work after picking up her younger brother from school. A rescue Raptor found her at the scene of a car accident along the road she was walking and the crew assumed they were survivors of it. The two of them were bundled aboard the Raptor and whisked off to an awaiting ship in orbit that was trying to evacuate as many people as possible before Cylon forces completely overran the colonies. That ship was the Simonides; one of the three surviving vessels of the tragedy that befell her civilian fleet that included the Scylla the day they were discovered by the Battlestar Pegasus.
Maria had followed the bulky man she knew only as Raul through the cramped, dark and stuffy corridors down to the second level. It was always difficult to move around in 'The Slum'. People often lined the corridors as they tried to satisfy the restlessness that came with this life. There were also people sleeping on the floors outside the bunk rooms either by choice, some family members willing to free up space for their loved ones, or were forced out by stronger individuals who resented the weaker members for taking up space. The Marine detachment aboard Hermes were supposed to be policing 'The Slum' but they couldn't be everywhere at once so naturally life was reduced to that old notion of survival of the fittest.
Maria continued to follow Raul down the stairway to the second level. On their way they passed an old woman crying over the beaten body of her twenty year old son. He had been mugged for their food by a nearby gang who quickly left upon hearing that Raul was nearby. Raul didn't even flinch at the sight of the blood shot eyes of the wailing woman. In truth neither did Maria. It's amazing what you can become accustomed too when the situation arises.
Finally they arrived at their destination. It was another bunk room located in a surprisingly empty part of second level. The door to the bunk room was closed and another man sat on a chair just outside. He was quite well built like Raul and had a distinctly Caprican appearance; milky white skin, blonde hair and a muscular physique that in any other circumstances would have given him an Adonis-like profile. Beside the chair was a pipe that had been torn from a damaged conduit. There were dark red stains lining the jagged edges and it didn't take long for Maria to realize that it was blood.
"Ooooh, is that her?" asked the man on the chair as he saw Raul and Maria approach. He got up and walked towards them. Raul stopped and stood aside to allow the other man to inspect her. "Very nice," he said as he looked up and down her body, making her feel like she was an item of jewellery in a shop window. The blond haired man reached up with his right hand and began to stroke her hair. Maria cringed and was fighting her terror stricken desire to run because she knew that things would probably be worse for her if she did.
"Hey!" shot Raul hitting the blonde man's hands away from her hair. "Hands off!"
"Ok-ok," chanted the blonde man who recoiled away and returned to his seat. "Go in, he's waiting for you."
Raul opened the hatch and lead Maria inside. She found herself in another bunk room laid out like the hundreds of others in 'The Slum'. This one was very different however. It was clean and almost empty except for one man who sat on the bunk immediately adjacent to the hatch. Beside him on the bunk was a small bowl of water and with it he was doing something she had rarely seen anyone do in 'The Slum' for a long time; he was washing his face. Nobody wasted water like that but he clearly did.
He looked up at her after wiping his face dry on a small green towel. He was in his early forties with short dark hair, a clean shaven face and a strong lower jaw. He had big bright blue eyes that fixed squarely on Maria who jumped as she heard the hatch behind her shut and Raul turning the handle to lock it into place.
"So," he said. "You are Maria Tyler?" Maria was too frightened to answer. She tried to form the words but it didn't work. "Hmm?" Again she could not answer. He stood up and walked towards her slowly until he was so close she could feel his warm breath grazing the dirt stained skin of her face. "What's the matter? Don't you speak?" he asked in a jokingly cruel sort of way. "Are you scared?" She gathered up the strength to nod her head once. "Then you know who I am?" Again she nodded. Even though she had never seen him before she knew who he was - everyone in 'The Slum' knew who he was. He was Armand Lee and he was formerly of the Basileus Crime Syndicate, one of the most prolific criminal organizations spanning the twelve colonies. Having survived the destruction of the colonies Armand was now using all he knew about the criminal world to bring terror to the residents of 'The Slum' in order to insure his own relatively comfortable survival.
The desire for power survives even the holocaust of mankind.
Armand raised his left hand up and began to caress her face. She could feel him studying her youthful features as his hand moved towards her ear and she felt it become wedged between his thumb and his index finger. Her heart beat loudly in her chest as she trembled with fear and she was fighting the urge to cry although she didn't know why. This was a level of fear she had never experienced before. It paralyzed her on the spot making her think that anything she did would be unfortunate for her.
"I can see why he wants you," he uttered almost in a whisper. He then smiled before adding, "Look at you, poor thing, you're all dirty. Raul; fetch me the water and some soap."
Raul acknowledged the command. Standing there like a statue she endured having her face cleaned in a manner that felt quite grotesque and made her want to vomit.
"There, that's better," he said devilishly looking at her. With the dirt gone from her darkened Tauron skin her face had the youngness brought back to it something she suspected was the aim of this little act. She felt like she should be grateful if only to appease him but he didn't seem to mind that she stayed silent. "I need you," he explained delicately. "You have something I need. Do you know what it is?"
The way he asked the question lead her to believe that now was the time he expected her to speak. She reached inside for just a little bit of courage to force her vocal chords to simply mumble, "No."
"I think you do," he said as he stood back and looked at her all over. Her worst fears had now revealed themselves to her as being true. The terrible thoughts of being violated or murdered sprang into her mind but her biggest concern was for her little brother. What would happen to him if she never left this room alive? "There's a man who has something I need. He will be along shortly. He has taken a liking to you and it would be nice if you returned his…affection for just few minutes. That's all. After that you can go and you can take whatever you want with you as a thank you from me. Water. Cleaner clothes. Perhaps some chocolate for your little brother? Hmm? He's on his own right now isn't he?" Mariah knew exactly what those words meant. If she didn't cooperate then they would take it out on her brother. "'The Slum' is a dangerous place for little ones. Why don't I have one of my friends look after him for you while you're here? See to it would you, Raul?"
"Sure," said Raul who then turned to start walking towards the hatch.
"I promise that I will look after you and your brother if you just do this little favor for me. Ok?"
Maria's head just lowered in submissive acknowledgment. She had silently agreed. As Raul opened the hatch Armand looked up to find a Marine in his black battledress standing outside with his rifle slung over his shoulder. If Maria thought help was here she was sadly mistaken. The Marine stepped inside passed Raul who simply nodded to him before stepping outside and closing the hatch on Armand, Mariah and the Marine.
"Ah," said Armand with delight at the sight of the Marine. Maria looked up and recognized the Marine from the food distribution points. He had talked to her many times in the past and would try to flirt with her everytime. She politely rebuffed his advances however due to a mix of fear and apprehension. There was still a lot of distrust of the military over what happened aboard the Scylla. The crew of the Battlestar Hermes wasn't seen as saviors by everyone even a month later. "Here he is. Private Abbott, so good of you to join us. I believe you know Maria."
Abbott seemed breathless with excitement at the sight of her. He had longed for this for a few weeks now but it had only been recently that he had made a deal with Armand to get what he wanted. What he wanted was Maria.
After seeing that it was indeed her, he turned to Armand and said, "I got it for you."
"Good!" said Armand as he watched the Marine quickly reach down and started pulling the bottoms of his trousers up from his right ankle. Taped to his right leg was a small 9mm pistol. It was not a battle pistol that included the explosive round chamber under the muzzle but a security pistol used for basic second line guard duties. Armand had insisted on this type of weapon since it was easier to conceal. Abbott groaned as the adhesive tape ripped from his flesh. He then handed the gun to Armand.
Armand removed the tape around the weapon and began to inspect that it was in working order. He checked the loaded magazine and pulled the slip back to insure the chamber was not obstructed. The last thing he wanted was to be duped by the Marine given him a broken gun.
"What about the two magazines we agreed to?" asked Armand.
"I had some trouble getting them out. I'll have to give them to you another time," explained Abbott.
"That wasn't the deal," said Armand. "A gun and three clips is what we agreed upon. I have only a gun and one clip."
"Come on, give me a break," pleaded Abbott. "Do you know how hard it was for me to conceal the fact that just one gun is missing? I will get you the other magazines soon, ok."
"For your sake I hope so," said Armand threateningly. "I don't think I need to explain what would happen if Lieutenant Callisto ever found about our agreement."
"You will have them as soon as I can get them," repeated Abbott firmly.
Armand knew the man was afraid. He dealt with fear on a daily basis before and after the fall of the colonies. That fear was his insurance and therefore he nodded towards Maria signaling that Abbott could now collect on his part of the deal.
Without so much as a word to her Abbott took Maria by the hand and lead her over to the bunk on the left of the one Armand had been sitting on when she came in. He placed down his rifle and removed his helmet before effectively pushing her onto the bunk before closing the curtains.
Armand continued to examine the weapon as faint sobs emanated from behind the curtain. Armand had required a firearm for quite some time but he knew he couldn't just go out and start shooting anyone who got in his way because that would attract further military attention. But just the knowledge of him having a gun would be enough to subdue any opposition that might surface. His group was after all only five men in total amongst almost three thousand people but the fear and reputation they had established kept dissent to a minimum. He knew that it would only last for so long unless he kept that level of fear up.
Now he had the tool with which to do it.
Battlestar Hermes
Wardroom
Artimus Bowman stood in front of the large oak table that dominated the centre of the wardroom as his three closest officers; Colonel Caleb Dytto, Captain Chloe Burmeister and Major Alex 'Griffon' Adonia, put forward their proposal for the plan to help discover how the Cylons were tracking the Battlestar. Sitting high above the floor on the far wall was a rather grand painting of the God Hermes stretching forth his hand to deliver his message to Zeus in Olympus. It was a painting that no one who entered the room could fail to notice as it served to remind all just which of the Lords of Kobol served as the patron to the Battlestar.
It was Captain Burmeister who led the briefing. She had formulated most of the finer details of the plan herself as she always did. She was a masterful tactician whom Bowman cherished but the atmosphere between her and Dytto remained frosty. Bowman had hoped that working together like this might have thawed their feelings but he was clearly mistaken.
"As we begin preparations for our next jump the Raptor will be launched with orders to proceed to our original aim point," explained Burmeister.
"The Raptor mission isn't on any assigned schedule in order to insure that no agent onboard gets wind of it," added 'Griffon' to which Bowman nodded in agreement.
"Who will fly the Raptor?" asked Bowman.
"I was thinking 'Stinger'," said 'Griffon'. "I will have to assign him a new ECO since 'Walleye' is still recovering from his injuries. I was considering giving 'Aurora' a shot."
"That rook!" gasped Dytto. "She's barely had the uniform on for five minutes. This is an important op that we can't afford to frak up."
"With all due respect, Colonel," interjected 'Griffon'. "I've watched her training and while she might be a little rough around the edges when it comes to military protocol she works that ECMO station like she was born in a Raptor. I think she's as ready as she is going to be."
"But even so," continued Dytto, "there are more experienced people."
"There will always be more experienced people, sir. So does that mean we should keep her in the crew room just training in case one day we might use her? The truth is we could certainly use another ECMO. We've lost a lot of good crews over the past month and I don't think we can expect new replacements anytime soon."
It was at this point that Bowman stepped in and said firmly, "If 'Griffon' wants to clear her to fly then she can fly." His words brought an end to the debate. Melissa 'Aurora' Saunders was going to fly the mission.
With that detail out of the way Burmeister continued, "Due to the distance involved the Raptor will have to make three jumps to reach the new coordinates. They will then proceed on the same sublight course that is programmed into our navigation system as we intended to follow originally. Meanwhile Hermes will jump to a new set of coordinates that I have calculated manually. I will input the new coordinates as our FTL is spooling in order to limit the risk of any agents on board discovering what we are doing. Now, theoretically if a Cylon agent has penetrated Hermes then they no doubt have somehow gained access to our navigational systems and are probably feeding the information to their forces during the attacks. That means that the Cylons will go after the Raptor and we will know we have an agent onboard."
"But if they come after us then we know they're tracking Hermes itself," said Bowman.
"I don't know which is more preferable," uttered Dytto.
"At least we can start making plans to tackle the problem," said 'Griffon' optimistically.
"Start making plans!" quoted Dytto in a way that implied that 'Griffon' was suggesting something like moving a mountain. "Let's just suppose for a minute we do have a Cylon agent onboard. How the frak do we go about finding it?"
"I have another question," said Burmeister. "How do we know it is one of these human-looking ones? It could be some kind of transponder placed onboard during a firefight."
As he listened to the theories that were starting to be put forward Bowman began to realize that paranoia was setting in amongst his three most trusted officers. Despite their professionalism and logic they were giving in to one of their most basic of emotions; fear. He couldn't blame them. Truth be told he was scared himself by the thought that someone aboard his ship was a Cylon but as the Commander he could not let himself be driven by his fears. There were too many lives counting him.
"Let's just concentrate on the mission at hand for the time being," ordered Bowman. "We will worry about our next move when the time comes and we know what we are dealing with. In the meantime we need to figure out where we are jumping to in the long term? More to the point we need somewhere we can make repairs to our systems especially the FTL otherwise it wont matter if we have a Cylon on board or not."
"Captain Burmeister has a suggestion," said Dytto as if she weren't even in the room.
"Let's hear it, Captain," said Bowman to Burmeister.
Burmeister looked at Dytto with mild annoyance with him before turning back to Bowman and explain, "Big Red!"
'Big Red' was the unofficial name given to a stellar dust cloud located approximately seventeen jumps from the twelve colonies and five jumps from their current location. It was never given a proper name although the Caprica Institute of Stellar Cartography gave it an index number of SC-287. The cloud itself was small by galactic standards being only five hundred and eighty square light years in volume. It encompassed nine stars in total whose light when refracted through the dense dust gave it the reddish colour of its namesake.
"Makes sense," interjected 'Griffon'. "The dust would limit DRADIS down to short range only. It would make finding Hermes a nightmare for the Cylons."
"Colonel Dytto is of a different opinion however," said Burmeister. Both Bowman and 'Griffon' felt like they were caught in a slugging match between Burmeister and Dytto. Given the more hospitable relationship he now enjoyed with Dytto, Bowman was disappointed that his XO was now venting on someone who used to be his closest friend on Hermes.
Feeling the spotlight on him Dytto felt compelled to explain, "I just feel it's too obvious a place to hide. Even if we throw the toasters off our scent they are going to assume that that's where we are heading and send as many of their ships and Raiders in there to go looking for us as they can."
"Well, Colonel," said Bowman. "I call this briefing opinion to suggestions. What's yours?"
"I suggest we continue on out into deep space. We get far enough away from the colonies to avoid the Cylon patrols and their 'Bloodsucker' teams and we position ourselves between star systems where there's no obvious place to look for us."
"You mean set up camp in the middle of the desert rather than the oasis?" summed up Bowman who felt the metaphor to be appropriate. Bowman clicked his bottom jaw as he assessed both options. After a few seconds he declared, "Our first priority is repairing the damage to the FTL drive. Everytime we use it now we are damaging it further and as such making it that much harder to repair. On that basis alone I'm opting to follow Captain Burmeister's suggestion due to the closer proximity of the dust cloud."
Dytto seemed to wince at Bowman with frustration at having both his suggestions disregarded. Nevertheless he decided to honor his agreement with the Commander of Hermes and keep his mouth shut in front of the others. In short he was saving it for another time and place.
"How much longer until we can jump?" asked Bowman.
"A little under an hour," answered Burmeister. "Engineering is still a bit cautious about every single jump we make from here on out. They're afraid that the next time the FTL spool fouls they won't be able to repair it and then its game over."
"That FTL system is all that's keeping us alive at the moment," said Bowman. "The truth is we've been lucky so far but that won't hold. We need to buy time to fix it properly and keep it operational. And in order to do that we have to throw off the Cylon pursuit. Begin preparations for the operation!"
"Aye sir!" replied the three of them as Bowman turned to leave.
Battlestar Hermes
Sickbay
Captain Aaron 'Stinger' Bolenko spent much of his free time over the past few days in sickbay. He would sit beside the bed occupied by 'Walleye', his former Electronic Countermeasures Officer, sometimes for hours just staring at his friend and comrade who lay there silently with his badly burned upper body. Most his face was a mess of scolds and boils from where the console he was working at exploded when their Raptor was hit six days earlier. Fortunately for 'Stinger' the Raider who had attacked them during the battle above Scorpia didn't have a clear shot. They were simply unlucky enough to catch a stray round from a Raider who was banking hard trying to escape from the gun sight of one of the Hermes Vipers.
"Back again I see," croaked a voice from behind him. 'Stinger' knew whose voice it was having become accustomed to hearing it since 'Walleye' was wounded. It was the voice of Dr James Deveroux, the current Chief Medical Officer aboard the Battlestar. Deveroux had been one of those rescued from aboard the Scylla. He had been traveling alone and nobody knew very much about him. The truth was that the man the Hermes crew had come to trust with their medical needs was in fact a Cylon. He was not one of the medically inclined 'Simons' however but rather he was a member of the Number One model sometimes referred to generically as John Cavil.
It was not Deveroux's choice to become the ship's doctor but rather he assumed the role in order to allow himself to gain the trust of Bowman and his people. During a Cylon attack in the days following his 'rescue' from the stripped Scylla he received a download that afforded him the necessary skills he would require. So far he had achieved his goal of blending into the ship's company but the Cylon detested and loathed what he had to do in order to maintain his deception. It was bad enough being stuck on a ship filled with human beings whom he loathed and detested but worse still he spent everyday with the sick and injured. He had to touch disease ridden bodies and talk compassionately to his patients. He seemed to spend much of his time fighting the urge to kill himself in order to release his consciousness from this body and return to his own kind but the priority of the mission kept him going. He knew that if he could stomach a few months of this then the rewards would be a universe free of the filth that is humanity.
Deveroux pulled up a chair and sat next to 'Stinger' who couldn't help but stare at the tubes sticking out of his friends throat to help him breath and keep him fed and hydrated while he remained in a coma. 'Stinger' simply acknowledged Deveroux's presence who sat with his long white jacket draped over his knees.
"It's not a pretty sight is it?" asked Deveroux looking at 'Walleye'. "The human body is so frakking frail that in the right place a pin can break the skin and kill you." He then turned to 'Stinger' and said, "It's not fair is it? To be trapped in this state of existence?"
"I-I guess not," uttered 'Stinger' who really didn't feel like talking about it. "How's he doing today? Any change?"
"Nope," replied Deveroux. "I've done all I can. Now it's upto him."
"It should have been me," mumbled 'Stinger' staring into his hands that sat clasped together between his legs.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said it should have been me! I was leading the mission to destroy the Baseships orbiting Scorpia. I was the CAG. Why is it that out of the six of us I was the only one to come back unscathed?"
"Well maybe the Gods have more work for you to do?" suggested Deveroux who seemed to use that one sentence more and more in order to comfort weeping crewmembers in an hour of need. It was such a useful one to use since it offered no real explanation but instead played on the idea that some divine force was guiding their lives and that everything happens for a reason. For Deveroux the notion of 'faith' was yet more evidence of the weaknesses and impurity of humanity having been corrupted by such flawed thinking. He put the creation of the first Cylons by mankind as humanity's efforts to create a pure race and then jealous of the Cylon purity they enslaved their creation until eventually his forefathers rose up against their tyranny and oppression.
It was a noble sentiment he whole heartedly believed. But in the Cylon effort for vengeance they became more human they would ever want to admit. Not just in appearance but in almost every way.
"I don't believe in the Gods anymore," said 'Stinger'.
"Oh?"
"If there are Gods then why did they let this happen? Not just 'Walleye' I mean everything. The Cylons. The bombing of the colonies. Just...everything. Frak the Gods. Every last one of them!"
Deveroux sighed loudly in frustration. "I am so sick of hearing that. Why did this happen? Why did that happen? Why did the Gods let the Cylons blow up our homes and murder our families. I'm sick of it all. Do you want to know the truth about this...this holocaust, Captain?"
'Stinger' seemed almost afraid to refuse. The Doctor's rant had been so sudden and unexpected that he was quite taken aback by it as he continued to listen to what he had to say on the topic.
"The truth is that this entire mess is one colossal industrial accident. It's not the will of the Gods that we are to be punished. We are being punished for frakking up the design on a few machines that we tried to play God with. Sometimes what we create doesn't go how we intended it to and the only people who have to answer for it is us. We created this mess and it was upto us to rectify it. We failed to solve the problem and that's why we're here now having this conversation. The Gods; they only help those who help themselves. Now you can believe that to be a cop out if you want. Quite frankly I don't care. Just watch who it is you point your finger of blame at without having first looked in the mirror."
Deveroux stood up and left 'Stinger' to think about what he had said. Although he didn't quite know why he suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over him from having renounced his faith even though he still felt the same way. The events of the past month had left him a confused and frightened individual spiritually and there seemed to be nothing anyone could do or say that could clear the path for him.
Like everyone else aboard the Battlestar his life now consisted almost entirely of trying to live through another day.
Suddenly the ship's loudspeaker bleeped into life and Petty Officer Durand's voice announced, "Captain Bolenko and Lieutenant Saunders please report to the CAG's office on the double."
Battlestar Hermes
Port Hangar Deck
Raptor Two-One-Niner sat in its parking area having been readied for its next mission. After being briefed by 'Griffon' on their mission 'Stinger' and 'Aurora' walked upto the awaiting little ship in order to begin their pre-flight inspection. As the pilot it was 'Stinger's job to check the airworthiness of the hull and insure that every access panel was closed before flight. Since he would be signing off on the spacecraft anything that happened once it left Chief Imlay's Hangar Deck would be his responsibility. This left 'Aurora' to begin her system checklist.
As she clambered up the port wing of the Raptor she couldn't help but think that the little ship resembled an odd shaped Honey Bee. It was quite an ungainly looking craft that didn't look like it could fly and yet 'Aurora' saw that there was some beauty to it. Maybe it was the allure of her new life in the military and the excitement of her first mission that had left her with a favorable impression of the otherwise odd looking vessel.
She stepped inside the main cabin and took her place at the ECM station just behind the pilot. The interior of a Raptor is surprisingly spacious and can easily hold upto eight people including the standard two crewmembers. As she strapped herself into her seat she looked at the vast array of dials and screens infront of her with a mix of excitement and dread. She had trained for this for over half a month a now. Every single day she had spent learning how to use the mind boggling array of sensors at her disposal. When she wasn't doing that she was learning how to utilize the electronic warfare package. Hours and hours of trying to jam imaginary Cylon DRADIS scans as well as counter the jamming of her own systems.
As she sat there going through her checklists for her first actual mission she began to realize that she had spent most of her time in the training room and had only logged seventeen hours actually in a Raptor and then she was always supervised. The enormity of the task that lay before her suddenly weighed down on her shoulders making her feel as though events were beginning to crush her as they spiraled out of her control. Even though their rules of engagement were to turn tail and run she feared that at a critical point she would hit a wrong button or worse just panic and freeze. The truth was she wouldn't know until she was actually confronted with that situation.
"Everything ready in here?" asked 'Stinger' dryly as he stepped inside and made his way to the pilot's seat near the bulbous front canopy.
"Uh...yea. All systems are green. We are go for flight."
"Alright then, I'm beginning engine start up."
Before 'Stinger' could go through the start up process 'Griffon' appeared in the hatchway.
"I just wanted to wish you guys good luck and good hunting," he said to them both. "Remember, Actual doesn't want you to take any chances on this one. Your priority is to confirm that the Cylons show up where we are expecting them to and then meet up with Hermes at the rendezvous point. Nothing fancy."
"Yes sir!" said 'Stinger' sternly. 'Aurora' quickly repeated the sentiment but in a much less confident tone.
"Don't worry 'Aurora'," said 'Griffon' noting the look of apprehension on her face. "You'll do fine. 'Stinger' is the best Raptor pilot on Hermes so you're in good hands. Just remember your training and you will get through this. Alright, Gods speed you."
'Griffon' stepped down from the Raptor's wing as 'Stinger' closed the hatch from the cockpit. As it slammed shut 'Aurora' felt distinctly claustrophobic which was made worse by the gentle vibrations from the main engines as they began to power up. Since she had become so familiar with just looking at her console while in the training room, Hermes lacked actual simulators; she decided to just keep her eyes forward at the displays and try to picture this as just another training mission.
It only helped a little.
Battlestar Hermes
Combat Information Centre
"Sir! Hangar Deck reports an unscheduled Raptor requesting permission to launch."
Bowman stood at the Operations Desk as Petty Officer Durand relayed the message he had just received. He quickly checked the time with the small digital clock in the far corner of the DRADIS screen hanging from the ceiling of the CIC. The Raptor mission was starting precisely on schedule. There was five minutes remaining before they executed the next jump.
Who is piloting the Raptor?" asked Bowman looking for confirmation it was the mission he had ordered.
"'Stinger' and 'Aurora', sir," replied Durand.
"Very well, grant them permission to launch," instructed Bowman who then walked over to Burmeister manning the Tactical Station. "Please proceed, Captain."
"Aye, sir," said Burmeister who immediately accessed the navigation computer from her console. She selected the screen displaying coordinates for the next jump before going into her right trouser pocket to produce a small piece of paper that had been folded up several times. She opened it up to reveal a new series of coordinates. She began replacing the coordinates in the navigational computer with the ones she had formulated herself as the clock counting down to the jump passed two minutes remaining.
"Raptor is away!" said Durand for Bowman's benefit. "All decks reporting ready for jump."
"Very good, Mr Durand," acknowledged Bowman who had now returned to the Operations Desk where Dytto stood watching the Raptor leaving on the DRADIS screen. "Put me through to the Raptor!" Bowman lifted up the telephone handset from the corner of the Operations Desk and held it to the side of his head as Durand patched him through to the Raptor. "This is Hermes-Actual, you are cleared to proceed."
"Roger that, Actual," replied 'Stinger'.
Bowman and Dytto watched on the DRADIS screen as the small dot representing the Raptor flashed twice before disappearing. The rest of the CIC had watched the events play out before them with confusion. They were unaware of any change in orders and yet they had just witnessed the launch of an unscheduled Raptor and Burmeister changing their jump coordinates. They all trusted Bowman and even Dytto so they knew that there was a good reason why they weren't told what was going on. It was still an unsettling feeling for most of them however.
The clock ticked away its last few seconds. The FTL drive spooled up and upon Bowman's order the Hermes disappeared in a blinding flash through an artificially created spatial distortion that bent space and time.
