Chapter 21.
Battlestar Group 39 – Two days before the Cylon Assault on the Twelve Colonies
Matt and Greenbean were standing outside of Green squadron leader Croft's quarters when the captain rounded the corner. "Here's a frakking crime in progress, what do you two want?" quipped Croft.
"We're finally getting the replacement vipers, cap?" asked Greenbean.
"Yeah, those four Mk. VI's and two Mk. V's, one of which you're still flying," he said gesturing to Matt, "are finally getting swapped out for the new Mk. VII's. You're gonna love the latest model, Hephaestus."
"Looking forward to it skipper, will there be any time for shore leave on Caprica?"
"Highly doubtful guys, most of the group is continuing on at a slow crawl as we swap out vipers. You'll be flying down to Thanatos Air Field where you and five other pilots will land your birds, report to the flight officer where you will sign out your new Mk. VII viper and return to the Triton which will remain in orbit. Total surface time should be no more than four hours, depending on how busy these guys are."
"Hardly any time at all to enjoy the 'jewel of the colonies,' now is there?" lamented Greenbean.
"You're a frakking Sagittaron, historically your people hate the military and Caprica, aren't you afraid they'll take away your membership card or something?" joked Lensherr in thick Aerilonian brogue.
"The family disowned me long ago, the moment I joined colonial fleet and started hanging out with you unwashed sinners." joked the lanky pilot.
"Alright you two daggit frakkers, stop loitering around my hallway and go do something productive. We should be arriving at Caprica in two days." ordered Croft as he opened the hatch to his stateroom and motioned his two pilots away with his hand in a dismissive gesture.
Matt stared at the book in his hand and blinked repeatedly, trying to focus. It had been the third time he read the same paragraph. The book was a true story written by a retired Colonial Marine who commanded the ground forces of Marine Fire Team Nebula 461. This fire team gained notoriety after holding at bay a squad of thirty-six heavily-armed Cylon centurions for twelve hours that were trying to overrun and destroy a key power station during the first Cylon war on the planet Tauron. Only six of the marine defenders survived the assault, holding out against superior enemy firepower until air support from the Battlestar Atlantia arrived with a squadron of her Mk. II vipers. When Matt had first picked up the book from a fellow pilot who got it himself while on shore leave, he was unable to put it down. For some reason he was distracted of late, something felt off, and he couldn't quite figure out what it was. He slipped the book onto the small shelf above his head and rolled over closing his eyes. D'Anna immediately appeared in his mind's eye, she was sitting at a table with a military ensign hanging on the wall behind her. An ensign was a distinguishing flag of a ship or a military unit, this ensign belonged to the...Galactica! What did that mean? Why was he dreaming about D'Anna, and why would she be aboard a Colonial battlestar? He shook his head and focused on falling asleep.
Caprica – Day of the Cylon Attack on the Colonies
Greenbean came up behind Matt slapping his hand on his shoulder causing Matt, who was caught off guard to swing around quickly. "So are you going to miss this bucket of bolts, Matt?"
"I'm totally looking forward to the new viper, but in all honesty I have to admit I'll miss the Mk. V. She was a good fighter. The Mk. VI was an obvious piece of junk, it didn't surprise me that they cut production after only four hundred fifty of them. It was right around there that the third pilot died in one of them, right? Gotta give the ring-knockers at Picon Fleet Headquarters credit though, for ordering an immediate halt to that line once they found the flaws in the model." said Matt.
"Yeah, but they still kept what they made in service, even if they did correct the problems. The VI was doomed from the start, they should have just scrapped them all and proceeded right to the VII, they had the prototype already." complained Greenbean.
"The Mk. VI was the latest model," argued Matt, "they invested a lot of cubits into that line, they just couldn't push it aside if they were able to correct the problems. Word on the street was that the ring-knockers at headquarters put an unbelievable amount of pressure on the politicians to free up the money, and even more on the engineers who weren't quite ready to part with their little prototype. I wonder what other advancements there could have been had they not forced the Mk. VII to go into immediate production three years before they originally planned." Matt ran his hand down the long nose of his fighter as if he was caressing an old girlfriend. "I'm really going to miss this ship."
"Frak it!" exclaimed Greenbean. "No sense in wasting any more breath on the subject, let's go get our new toys, shall we?" A deck hand held Greenbean's helmet as he climbed up into his fighter. Settling into the well-worn seat he strapped himself in, and connected the atmospheric hoses into the appropriate valves, snapping them firmly in place. Triton's deck chief jumped up on the steps and peered into the cockpit.
"You're all set, Lieutenant. The deck crew will be loading your bird into the tubes, have a safe flight down there, and bring back your new bird in one piece, will ya?" said the chief in mock seriousness. He started to walk down the steps when he abruptly turned around. "Oh by the way, try not to run into any pirates out there...all the 30 mm rounds have been removed. By the same token, the cheap bastards down on Caprica aren't sending you back up armed either."
"Gods forbid they spare the ammo." said Greenbean shaking his head in dismay. His viper was soon loaded into the launch tube, and within minutes he, Matt and the other four vipers were airborne and streaking towards the surface of Caprica.
One hour before the Cylon Attack
Matt was getting anxious, they were now well into their fifth hour sitting on the tarmac of Thanatos Air Field. Greenbean and Slaphappy were the only two pilots to sign out their new vipers, the remaining four pilots sat under the canopy of the wheeled fire extinguisher. The level of frustration was palpable due to the face that four brand new Mk. VII vipers destined for Triton sat before them. The paperwork still had not arrived. Matt looked up at Greenbean who was now clutching his helmet.
"No sense in you wasting time down here, Bean. There's no telling how long these frakkers will be, the damned things are fueled up and ready for preflight, but without the paperwork the flight line crew won't let us near em." complained Matt.
"Typical Caprican bureaucracy my friend. These people can't do anything right, how they've climbed to the top of the Colonial ladder escapes me." remarked Greenbean acidly.
"We'll see you back aboard then." replied Matt waving. The remaining pilots would watch the two vipers taxi down the runway in order to take off. Twenty minutes later a flight line vehicle arrived, and a specialist walked over to the four Triton pilots who promptly got to their feet.
"I'm sorry for delay, sirs. I don't know what the problem was, I'm just the messenger." shrugged the young specialist apologetically. He produced a clipboard where each pilot affixed their signatures and just as quickly departed. Matt ran through the preflight check methodically and was soon ready for takeoff.
Combat Information Center – Battlestar Triton
"Commander, I have two vipers breaking orbit...receiving a request from Greenbean to approach and land." reported the communications officer.
"Alright, clear them for auto land in the alpha landing bay." directed Jonnason. "Any word on the other pilots?"
"Negative sir." Jonnason wanted to get under way, Triton was approaching their estimated departure time and still had not recovered his new vipers from Thanatos air field. He was ready to order his communications officer to contact Thanatos control when the DRADIS sounded. The tactical officer was quick to respond.
"Multiple DRADIS contacts jumping into outer Caprican orbit, at least twelve unidentified ships bearing 25 carom 117." reported the tactical officer.
"Unidentified? No IFF?" The tactical officer shook his head. "Alright, launch Green squadron and a Raptor to identify, set condition one throughout the ship." said Jonnason as he adjusted his gaze towards the suspended DRADIS console over the plotting table. Triton's lighting switched to red, indicating the ship was at condition 1, this is one of three stages of alertness on Colonial warships. Condition one being that an attack is present, or imminent. This alert places the ship at its highest state of readiness. All crews go to their combat posts. Bulkhead doors are closed in case of decompression. Additional viper pilots are scrambled to supplement the CAP and the Alert Fighters and support crews man their stations. The Combat Information Center is locked down and the ship's commander is on station.
Twelve vipers from Green squadron were soon aloft and vectoring for an intercept course on the unidentified spaceships that had just appeared around Caprica. The pilot of the Raptor was coming to within visual range of the closest ship. "Triton – Raptor 172...closing on unidentified ship, this thing looks to be around the size of a Battlestar with two Y-shaped hulls attached at their centers by a single pylon...over." Jonnason took the transmitter from the side of the plotting table and instructed the comm officer to patch him through directly to the raptor.
"Raptor 172 – Triton Actual...is the ship displaying any hostile actions?"
"Negative Actual...wait one...new batch of contacts emerging, much smaller, close to three hundred and counting. Omigods...these things somewhat resemble the old Cylon raiders, those giant flying wings." Jonnason immediately looked up and instructed the remaining air wing to be launched. "Triton be advised that the smaller ships are emitting a red light that..." The transmission ended abruptly, and the
DRADIS screen displayed the vipers breaking formation in an unorthodox way.
"Tactical...sitrep!" barked a confused Jonnason.
The tactical officer worked his fingers furiously over the keyboard before him, his face a puzzled mask. "Commander, all contact has been lost with Raptor 172 and Green squadron, we can see them on DRADIS, but there's zero com chatter."
The executive officer had entered the CIC a minute earlier and had listened to the reports silently, waiting to offer advice or make an observation to Jonnason if needed. He was concerned by the way the viper squadron was conducting their engagement of the smaller ships that were bearing down on them. He finally spoke up, "What are these guys doing? The smaller ships are almost within collision dist-" his voice trailed off as the transponder signals for green squadron disappeared in quick succession.
"They're gone!" whispered the tactical officer. He firmed up his voice before repeating it aloud. "Green squadron is gone, commander!"