12: Battlegroup
by Chaoseternus
In the shadow of the events and chaos of Disclosure, the first Battlegroup is formed...
And sent straight into action!
Note: ff is being irrating and stripping punctuation again. I'm having to manually re-add most in ff's editor but it might not be perfect.
Twenty-Five
"A scene more in common with a kicked anthill then a major military base as Paladin after Paladin lands, often disgorging battered and bloodied soldiers and troops. Not all walk out of the craft under their own power, some are carried off by medics and doctors and more then a few have been carried out in body bags.
The normal detritus of a battle and there are certainly enough of those you might think. But the transport craft you see beyond the boundary fence are not the Aerospace variant of the Paladin; they are all space capable craft. This means another battle in the skies above our heads.
Where exactly and how this battle occurred has not yet been revealed to us but one thing we know for definite, the cost on our side at least, has been bloody. Not all of these craft have landed intact, not five minutes ago, we saw a Paladin brought into land by an Airhead, its hull rent and torn. So far, they have brought nobody alive out of that craft and at the moment, they appear to have given up the search for the moment.
Just beyond you can see another transport, this one has its pulse laser turret on the front still deployed and you can see the metal has melted and run around the weapons indicating tremendous heat from near constant firing.
We've also had reports of a crash near Manston where a Paladin has literally driven itself into the ground, completely out of control and an explosion near Cape Canaveral in America where these craft have also been landing.
But these are not front line warcraft we are seeing; these are support craft, at best troop transports, not craft that should be in combat unless the situation is desperate.
One can only wonder how long it will be before the truth is revealed by the space services."
"Five minutes until jump Commander,"
Adama smiled tightly, they were so close to success. If they had the ability to swiftly replace the central computer, they could already have jumped, but as the Earther's said, if wishes were equines, there would be a lot of horsemeat on the menu. Instead of horseshit which was what most of the politicians produced apparently…
No, instead they had to manually enter the coordinates, manually sequence up the jump engines, manually feed power in the coils. It took longer, doubly so when you considered they were doing all this with an unfamiliar and hostile warship.
But they were almost there.
Almost… every ship remaining was either fully rigged and ready for jump or was physically linked to a jump capable ship. Given the number of disabled Paladins and Vipers floating about the system, that meant the bays of both the Galactica and the prize were full to near capacity. They had just a few slots remaining, just in case the Cylons launched a last minute attack and some of the Viper VIII and IX's were hit badly enough to kill their own jump drives but it looked just as if they might…
Adama killed the thought. He was all too aware of what the 13 th Colony called Murphys Laws of Combat and as far as he was concerned they were all true, doubly so the one about not tempting….
"Jump signatures… multiple capital ships. Raider launches, it's the cylons!"
…fate.
Four minutes thirty seconds to jump too.
"Order the Vipers to close support procedures on the prize, manoeuvring, I want us placed to put a suppression barrage midrange between the Cylons and the captured Basestar and mind that it is midrange," Adama glanced sharply aware from the tactical readout to catch the eye of one of his officers, "weapons, don't bother firing on the Basestars. Just put everything into suppression and point defence."
"Radiological alarm! Cylon Basestars are launching nukes. I'm also picking up traces from multiple Raiders ."
Adama grimaced, his eyes firmly back on the tactical display, his expression moving to stony as he noted the nine Cylon Basestars launching literally everything they had at the captured Basestar.
Four Minutes.
The first wave of missiles arrived faster then the Raiders and was promptly intercepted by the waiting Vipers, the space around the Basestar vanishing into a furball of red and blue markers that would have had less experienced officers overwhelmed in moments. Adama had seen such furballs often enough to be able to follow the pattern and he nodded slightly, for the moment the line was holding.
He glanced down as his hands resting on the central table of the command centre registered tremors, then glanced across the room where a schematic of the Galactica was blazoned with flashing yellow Led lights all along the portside main and a few topside.
Weapons batteries firing.
Three Minutes Thirty Seconds.
He glanced directly up, his eyes darting with practised precision towards the tactical readout as a cone appeared on it, spreading out from the Galactica and encompassing a goodly proportion of the space between Cylons and the prize and her escort. He nodded grimly as the tail end of the first wave of missiles was caught in the cone and devastated but not destroyed. Then a wave of red intersected the deadly suppression barrage and Adama frowned, knowing there were far too many fighters for the barrage to get them all.
The Vipers were still going to be busy and if they failed, then hundreds of Colonials and Tau'ri would have died for nothing.
Three Minutes.
An alarm sounded and Adama bit back a curse as a tenth Basestar appeared, this time on Galactica's starboard side . Its missiles and Raiders weren't heading for the prize; they were heading for Galactica herself.
Smart.
A direct threat to the ship he had to respond too, it would distract him from defending the prize, making the Basestar an easier kill.
He saw no reason to cooperate though, he knew how long they had to hold out for and the Cylons didn't.
"Divert power from portside shields to starboard, activate suppression batteries starboard…" he paused, a thought slipping into his mind, then, with a smile so slight only those closest to him would be able to spot it, Adama continued, "and feed targeting data to as many of the Paladins attached to the exterior of the hull as possible. If they have to hitch a ride, might as well be of some use."
Time to trust in the Tau'ri shields, the Colonial armour and the tough old bird.
Two minutes Thirty Seconds.
He lets a tight grin appear on his face as the last nuclear tipped missile from the Basestars initial salvo is destroyed, albeit close enough that he just knows they are going to be needing a specialist materials handling team to remove the debris which is likely to be embedded in the hull armour.
The grin doesn't stay long though, the fighters are getting through, their numbers reduced, but not enough, the Vipers are still in a fight and only just holding their own.
He grimaces, noticing a second wave of missiles leaving the Basestars.
There is a rumble, the ship rocks, he glances towards the ships status readouts and notices that the Galactica's shields have been mildly reduced and that radiation is now degrading the sensors on the starboard side.
He isn't worried for Galactica, he doesn't think a single Basestar will be able to do the Battlestar severe damage, not if they keep firing unenhanced nukes, but he is worried about the Paladins and their far thinner hulls.
The radiation…
Not much that could be done about it now though.
Two minutes.
He grimaces as he notes a Viper deliberately allow a conventional missile through, knowing no-one was behind him to intercept it. It had to be done; the real threat was the Raider sized nuke that was the next missile in the stream.
Still, if that conventional missile did enough damage…
Impact.
The icon for the prize doesn't even twitch, the Basestar itself unmoved by the puny mass and relatively small explosive force of the missile but that did not mean it didn't do damage.
Adama finds himself smiling though as the last eight meters or so of one of the Cylon capital ships upper arms vanishes. According to Boomer, there were no essential systems there that would affect the ability of the ship to jump. At least, there weren't on unmodified Basestars.
One Minute Thirty Seconds.
The first Viper dies and Adama just files it away, keeping his grief for another time, it was likely there would be more and this was no time for being distracted. There was still a battle to be fought.
A second Viper, this time rammed by a Raider, whether deliberate or accidental he doesn't know. What he does know is that they wont have the ability to police the battlefield after this match.
He also knows that he can't allow a Viper , even a heavily damaged one, fall into the hands of the Cylons for the same reasons the Cylons were so desperate to stop the Basestar remaining in his hands.
Too much could be learnt.
He walks across, and has a quiet word with the weapons officer.
One Minute.
The second wave of nukes launched from the Basestar are crossing the suppression barrage now, mixed in with the tail end of the Raider swarm.
Many disappear from the scopes, some destroyed, some hidden by the signatures of the nukes still carried by a few of the Raiders.
He orders Galactica to close with the prize, the Raiders and missiles will all be mixed in with the Vipers soon enough and the suppression barrage wont do much good. The targeted fire of the Mark 17 Pulse Lasers in CIWS mode would be of more use… albeit with the risk of an abrupt manoeuvre putting a Viper straight into the path of a beam of coherent light meant for an enemy.
There is confirmation from the Basestar, almost ready to jump, less then a minute but they won't hang around, as soon as they are able they will be gone.
Adama nods, and orders those Vipers that have sustained damage to find themselves a perch PDQ, either on the Galactica or on the prize, unless they want to be left behind.
Thirty seconds.
Three more Vipers have died, another ten are headed towards Galactica to land on, the prize crew on the Basestar has suggested they go elsewhere. Doesn't matter if there is a bird on final approach; they aren't hanging around to wait for it.
Not with all the people who have already died for this prize.
Adama finds himself agreeing wholeheartedly.
The Vipers are regrouping, clumping up, and knowing that as soon as the Basestar goes, the Cylons will turn on them and any one caught on their lonesome will swiftly be overwhelmed.
If they want to survive, they have to be prepared to act as one.
Twenty Seconds.
Adama grimaces, there is a virtual wave of missiles heading towards the Basestar, the Vipers and now Galactica herself are intercepting as many as they can, but there would be leakers. How many would get through before the prize jumped, Adama didn't want to guess.
He spots a Viper jump out early. Some would call that cowardice but Adama can see the lack of any friendly icons around the pilot. Isolated, he would have been killed swiftly; alive he gets to fight another day.
Still, he will find out who that was and he will remember it.
Ten Seconds.
He resists the urge to bite his nails; it's far too unseemly for Battlestars Commander. Any moment now, the prize should jump. The problem was, the wave of missiles were also mere seconds form its objective.
The mission would succeed or fail in the next few seconds.