Chapter 28.
"Are you sure, Boomer?" asked Crashdown panting from the climb.
"Yeah, those structures along the base of the ridge are definitely Cylon architecture. Looks like a small outpost. You can see dradis dishes to the left of the main structure." said Boomer pointing to the area in question as she handed her ECO the binoculars.
"I don't see any raiders, that's a plus."
"None on the surface," replied Boomer. "we're not sure if there is an underground chamber beneath the main structures. We don't have a camera, and I don't intend to risk getting detected by flying in close to get gun camera footage...give me your knee board!" Both pilot and ECO's had a kneeboard that contained a pencil and usually flight logs, or other paperwork pertinent to a flight. The kneeboard is contoured to comfortably fit either leg with foam pads that prevent movement. Boomer took the offered kneeboard and removed a piece of paper. Flipping it over to the blank side, she started to draw a diagram of the outpost, and surrounding terrain.
"Come on...let's get the frak out of here and warn the Galactica." Boomer nodded in agreement and the two started the long hike back to their ship.
Combat Information Center - Battlestar Galactica
"Commander, Raptor 6 has just jumped into out immediate airspace requesting priority approach." informed Gaeta. Adama, who was now on duty quickly looked up at Tigh, the two had worked together long enough to almost be able to read the other's mind.
"Trouble." remarked Tigh.
"Clear Boomer for alpha landing bay, then have her report to the CIC immediately." ordered Adama.
Adama and Tigh listened to Lt. Valerii's report, she had produced her rough sketches of the outpost which Gaeta immediately took to convert to a cleaner digital representation.
"We're going to need a closer look at this outpost." said Adama. "Colonel Tigh, I want a recon team put together, one raptor only to minimize detection risk. Boomer is familiar with the approach, so she'll be piloting the mission. I want boots on the ground as close to the outpost as possible, digitals, rad readings, anything to give us an idea of what we're facing. The fleet will be put at condition two alert with their FTL's spun up to jump away if need be." The senior staff continued the op as the fleet redeployed to a sector away from the planetoid that contained the Cylon outpost.
Pilot's Ready Room
Captain lee Adama stood behind the podium with a laser pointer firmly in hand. A digital "smart board" attached to the bulkhead on the left side of the room contained Gaeta's representation of Boomer's rough sketch of the outpost. "This is the target, people. Raptor six will jump in low with her team, land discreetly and lead the recon team to this point. The vipers will remain on station on the far side of the planetoid in case the op goes south. If that happens, Starbuck will lead Red squadron in for an immediate EMP strike to prevent any raiders for getting airborne, or the Cylons signaling for reinforcements. Blue squadron along with a a squad of armed Raptors will remain in reserve in the event more Cylons arrive. Silver Spar will remain in the tubes aboard Galactica. This is a recon people, this might be an offensive base, or it might be a listening post, we need to be sure which before we can move on."
Matt sat in the third row, clearly not happy to be sitting out the mission. He knew each squadron had their job to do, and each played an equally important part. His squadron would be held in reserve to defend the fleet.
"Raptor six's initial scans of Alpha One revealed heavy deposits of valuable metallic ore, something we can scarcely let pass. With Alpha two's proximity, we can't risk sending in the mining ships to extract them. It's a lengthy process, and if there's a Cylon outpost next door, then we need to handle that first.
Once the recon team successfully withdraws back to the Raptor, Boomer will make an immediate jump to the outer-most orbit, regroup with our vipers and return to base for debrief. Any questions?" Hearing none, the pilots report to their ships to prepare for the mission.
"Tough break Lensherr!" This was the voice of Starbuck, who had come up to Matt from behind. Matt had turned to face her and was surprised to see her holding his dogtags in one hand. "Lose these in one of the storage compartments, lover boy?" Matt reached out and grabbed them. "Racetrack a little rough for ya, farm boy?"
"I gather you had a little 'business' in the storage room yourself, lass?" asked Matt with a grin.
"Wouldn't you like to know, my little Aerilonian hot throb. Though I have to admit I'm surprised you fraked her... she doesn't seem your type. Pretty fraking mousy if you ask me."
"I didn't ask you, though I appreciate you finding me tags." quipped Matt as he turned around and headed for the hanger bay.
The base was indeed of Cylon origin, it was a dual purpose outpost that served as a listening post, and mining station. Unknown to the Colonial recon team, the underground facility was a cavernous bay containing storage units of metallic ore, and a medium-sized refining plant that smelted the metal from its ore. Storage racks lined the far wall, racks four levels high contained slabs, or ingots of metal that would be transferred to a conveyor belt that would lead topside to the landing pad. The metals would then be loaded onto transport ships by centurions bound for the Cylon's home world. One full squadron of raiders were based there to protect the outpost, along with a garrison of centurions.
Raptor six materialized from its faster-than-light jump roughly twenty thousand feet above the rocky surface. Lt. Sharon Valerii brought the nose down and made a beeline for the surface. Aside from herself and her ECO, eight lightly-armed Colonial Marines were aboard. None were in their standard all-black fatigues, instead they were attired in an environmental suit with a camouflaged pattern that closely resembled the brown hues of the surface.
"Two minutes to touch down people!" called out Boomer over the comline. The six men, and two female Marines did a last minute check of their equipment, then each in turn inspected each other from front to back, top to bottom to ensure nothing was amiss. The Raptor was touching down in precisely the exact location that Boomer had first landed at to ensure no premature detection. With the hatch opened, all but the Raptor crew disembarked. Marine Lieutenant Terry Burrell takes point, with the remainder of the team fanning out, each armed with an SA-80 assault rifle and a side arm. With detailed landmarks and direction provided by Boomer, the team is on station in almost half the time it had taken Boomer and Crashdown. Marine Private Brandy Harder removed a hand-held scanner from her ruck sack and held it in front of her visor. She slowly scanned the area before them, searching for and indication of ground sensors. Detecting none she signaled the team to advance. There was thirty meters between each member of the team, and contact was maintained between each member every two minutes.
There was a steep slope to the north, and Lt. Burrell low-crawled to the edge. The closest structure was over twenty meters away. He immediately caught sight of movement at the structure. Two centurions emerged from the portal and were heading directly towards him. He couldn't get up and run, he was far too exposed. He was on the side of a tall rock outcropping, he decided to freeze and pray that his suit's color blended in with the rocks. He toggled the safety to the off position and pulled the black weapon close to his chest. His pulse quickened as the metal monstrosities approached. Their forearms which housed gun barrels when the talons retracted were low at their sides. They did not appear to be on alert. From six meters away the two centurions stopped, Burrell thought his heart would explode from his chest. Like almost every active duty Colonial Marine, he had never seen a Cylon Centurion up close and personal, it had been close to forty years since anyone had seen the Cylons. He had seen photos and video footage of them, but they looked nothing like the advanced mechanisms that stood before him. Sleeker in appearance than their robotic ancestors, only the tell-tale red eye sliding back and forth across the visor was the give away sign of it being a centurion. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice in his earpiece.
"Say the word, and we'll take the clankers out!" came the voice of Private Harder. "We have you covered from multiple safe angles. Click your transmitter twice to engage, otherwise we hold covering positions." She spoke quietly, and concisely. It was unknown how sensitive a centurion's hearing could be. The centurions made the decision for Burrell, in unison they turned to the left and walked over to a mid-sized outcropping of rocks which apparently held a large ventilation grid. Burrell slowly turned his head to follow their every movement. The lead centurion placed what appeared to be paddles onto the grid, the paddles had two thick black cables running to a small device that the second centurion carried. A switch was flipped and loud humming could be heard. Within seconds large fragments of hardened rock and dirt broke off from the grid and fell to the ground. It started to become clear, the centurions were sent out to remove the obstructions to the ventilation shaft leading to an underground chamber. With their assignment completed, the centurions returned to the structure they emerged from.
"Recon team, Burrell... that was a close one, thanks for the cover. Alright, recon one and four, start getting some digitals of every above-surface structure, including this ventilation shaft. Recon three I want rad readings taken of the area, recon two and seven I want observation positions taken on the south ridge and that tall butte behind me, keep your eyes peeled for any more clankers, but do not fire unless fired upon...understood?" With affirmative replies all around, he signaled Harder and the last remaining marine to make their way around the back of the outpost. The reconnaissance of the entire outpost went slowly, each team member making painstaking effort to avoid any and all detection devices. Burrell made his way to within six meters of the airfield and was forced to stop due to a lack of concealment opportunities. He removed the digital camera from his combat vest and started snapping pictures of the area. To the left was a ramp that led underground, further along was what looked like a large door twenty feet in height and thirty feet in length, Burrell thought that was most likely the hanger bay for the raiders. He was surprised to see neither gun or observation platforms. Perhaps the Cylons never anticipated intruders on their outposts. Without warning, a blinding flash appeared high above them all, a spaceship had just jumped in above the base. Burrell toggled his transmitter. "All teams hold your position, repeat...hold your position. I want digitals on this new ship, follow it all the way down and photograph everything it does!"
The ship was a Cylon transport ship, an unarmed ship used throughout the Cylon fleet to transport fuel and other goods. Cylon transports could also be used to support an offensive operation, as demonstrated during the attack on the colonies, where whole battalions of centurions were transported to the surface of each colony to finish that which nuclear bombardment started. The ship was over sixty meters in length, and landed gently on the large landing field. A massive platform descended from beneath the ship and stopped once it reached the ground. A beehive of activity erupted over the next few minutes as centurions arrived attaching various hoses to fuel intakes on the ship. Small vehicles emerged from the ramp leading underground, none of them piloted, towed two wheeled platforms that contained slabs or ingots of processed metals. The automated transports drove onto the massive platform beneath the large transport ship where articulated grappling arms descended to lift the metal off their platforms up into the belly of the ship where they would be stored for the trip back to the Cylon's home world, where they will then be used to build new Baseships, raiders or other Cylon spacecraft. Including centurions.
Burrell had contacted the Raptor to inform Boomer of the teams progress, they would be delayed in getting back to the ship which made Boomer nervous, and led Crashdown to bitterly complain about the risk they were all taking. After two hours of holding their position and witnessing the loading operation, the loading of the Cylon transport was complete, and the entire hub of activity ceased. Burrell regrouped the team and cautiously made their way back to the Raptor. They watched the Cylon transport take off, ascend to five thousand feet above the surface then jump away. That in itself was an important fact, there was no chance of a Cylon transport ship coming in contact with the fleet which was a safe distance away. Armed with thousands of digital photographs, video, and radiological readings and personal observations, the recon team returns to Galactica.
Commander Adama's quarters – Battlestar Galactica
"If we can take that base, the metal alone would be a tremendous asset. We wouldn't have to risk the Majahual or Monarch to get down to the surface and mine the ore itself, let the gods-damned Cylons do the work for us." said Tigh. The meeting was informal, between Commander Adama, his son Lee, Lieutenant Burrell, Colonel Tigh and the President. With the exception of Burrell, who declined, all others held a small snifter of Caprican brandy.
"Lieutenant, how much of the processed metal would you guess was loaded onto that Cylon transport?" asked Laura.
Burrell knew that Commander Adama made it crystal clear that he did not want his officers making guesses, educated or otherwise. He glanced over to Adama who merely nodded his approval. "Madam President, as the photos and video footage clearly show, the entire loading process took two hours of non stop loading. My best... guess," he started, looking over at Adama, "would be that at least one hundred tons or processed metal was put aboard that ship." Tigh whistled loudly in amazement, Lee found himself suddenly irritated with the crusty old executive officer.
"Commander Adama, how many vipers could be built with one hundred tons of metal?" asked the president.
"Madam president, depending on the type of metal that the Cylons are actually mining, if compatible, we could easily field six complete squadrons of Mk. VII vipers. Having metal to construct the fuselage is only a small percentage of the challenge of creating new vipers, however. Other materials are critical, and just as rare as metal. I would also release the metal, once refined into workable lengths and widths, to be used to repair the Galactica and many of the civilian ships that are in critical need of repairs.
"If I may add, sir, new vipers also require pilots to fly them." said Lee, speaking up for the first time. We can rebuild Galactica's entire air wing, but without the pilots to fly them, they would sit unused in the hanger bay, not a good thing for any fighter craft. I would respectfully ask the commander to step up efforts to create a program to train replacement pilots."
"I understand the concern, captain," replied Adama. "Colonel Tigh and I have discussed that very subject at length, and were planning to meet with you and Lt. Thrace in the near future." Lt. Kara "Starbuck" Thrace was a qualified viper pilot trainer, one of only three aboard Galactica, and the other two had the bare minimum requirements, having just completed the course just prior to the Cylon attack on the Colonies. Lee nodded his understanding and sat back. "Madam President, the Galactica suffered extensive damage during the nuclear strike on the port flight pod. There is also other damage to the ship, though not as extensive that must be given priority."
"I fully understand, commander. These are military decisions that clearly fall under your authority. I would ask that you periodically keep me advised."
"This is all contingent on actually launching a successful raid on that outpost." said Tigh from the corner of the room. "Without that metal, this is all academic."
"Intercepting a Cylon transport is not feasible at this point, however... if we are able to launch a successful surprise attack on that outpost, the materials obtained would be invaluable." He turned to Lee, "Captain, I want you to work with Colonel Tigh on an attack op, get me several scenarios that we can put into action, and once we secure that processing outpost, we can decide what we'll do with the materials gained from our plundering. If there are no further questions... you're all dismissed."
