12: Battlegroup
by Chaos_eternus

In the shadow of the events and chaos of Disclosure, the first Battlegroup is formed...
And sent straight into action!

Forty-Two

"How goes operation Shadowsword?"

Peters shot Billingsgate a sharp glare, before glancing pointedly at the tech working at a panel behind the Lieutenant-Colonel.

Wincing, he sent a wordless apology at Peters and she just sighed, and rose from her desk, striding swiftly towards the small kitchenette attached to her office. Inside, she gestured towards the kettle as she leaned backwards against the sink, her arms dropping into a crossed position in front of her.

"So far we're in a holding pattern," she noted as he gratefully switched the kettle on, "the Free Jaffa have confirmed their support for the operation and they are sending at least two of their upgraded Ha'taks to assist. They will be under our command for the op. Right now, the two main items we're waiting on are the arrival of those Ha'taks and the Atlantis Viper squadrons being declared fully operational. As soon as we have those we're go."

Billingsgate frowned, pausing for a moment; hand in the sugar bowl, "isn't Yorktown due to be relaunched?"

A slight smile dropped into position on Peters face, "indeed, and not just Yorktown. It all depends on timing but I may just be able to add another two ships and possibly a gunboat squadron to the mix."

She got a quiet whistle in response, "damn. That would be about the biggest fleet we've ever assembled."

A laugh filled the room "depends on how you define big. We deployed the kitchen sink when we went after Maktenos to retake Chocky's homeworld but you weren't here for that op. certainly we had nothing on Atlantis'es scale when we did that one."

"Its still not going to be enough though is it?"

"Not on the face of it no," Peters admitted, "but…"

She shook her head, "I'm afraid there are aspects of this which are code-word compartmentalised."

Shrugging, Billingsgate acknowledged the silent injunction not to push, "still, I do need to know if you will need additional squadrons to deploy with you."

"That I don't know yet," sighing, Peters turned, grabbing her own steaming cuppa off the worktop, "problem would be supporting them as always. At convoy SOA it looks like the mission area will be about two weeks travel time."

"Far too long for the pilots to remain in their craft," he noted with a definite grimace, "a day is bad enough but two weeks is literally not possible."

" Atlantis can carry more fighters but her launch tubes are rigged for Vipers, " she shrugged, "launching other types is of course possible but it has to be done through the flight-deck lifts which means they're going to be slow."

" Ha'taks? "

"A possibility, but given this is an offensive operation, we would really need to use an updated vessel. We have none available for deployment and the two under refit," the Rear-Admiral frowned, "are unlikely to be ready in time. Even if there refits are completed, they certainly won't have completed their shake-down cruises in time for the job."

It was Billingsgate's turn to frown, "if the enemy has lots of fighters…"

"I know," a sigh, her hands cradling the steaming cup as Peters continued, "And frankly, I would bet on their being plenty of fighters."

"Times like this a dedicated carrier would be nice," he shook his head, "but in place of that, I would advise making fucking sure you take at least on patrol craft squadron with you. Keep 'em in Atlantis'es landing bays for the long part of the trip."

Peters shook her head, "you're probably right, but I don't want to leave Earths defences almost entirely in the hands of green units. We would have to take no. 1 squadron, leaving no. 5 to reinforce local defence. Only one of their birds has launched as yet."

"Well there is a saying among some of your deadlier countrymen," the former US Airforce officer replied softly, placing his now empty cup into the sink, "Who Dares, Wins."

"Indeed," came the soft, considering reply.


"We may be missing a trick here," Kalinda murmured slowly, her expression thoughtful, her head resting on the palms of her hands as she gazed slowly at the book in front of her.

"Oh?" came the soft reply from behind her making the scientist yelp, as she swiftly turned towards the voice, almost knowing the book off the table.

Flushing, she caught the book, resisting the urge to glare at the aging warrior. It was his office after all.

"Well," she shrugged, "you mention how, right at the beginning, you realized how normal humans could withstand certain ranges and frequencies of nebula emissions that Cylons are degraded by."

Adama grunted, "I assume you are referring to the Ragnar Anchorage?"

"Quite, now it's not exactly my area of expertise but instead of trying to jam the jump drives, which is looking less and less possible, why not jam the cylons themselves?"

A slight grin lit the Admirals face and he chuckled dryly, "that would kill more then one bird…"

"Infiltrators…" she mused, and then grinned, "hadn't thought of them."

"I do see a problem," Kalinda gazed at him, giving Adama her full attention, "Ragnar had a six month deployment limit during the first Cylon war for medical reasons."

"I see," a sigh, "so not suitable for use on Earths surface but for orbital installations and the like, I imagine a six month rotation would be challenging but potentially doable. Still, this is not my area of expertise again."

"It's an idea,"

"And," Kalinda replied, turning back towards the Galactica log books, "we need all those we can get."


"So, how's the spaceplane business going?"

"Don't get me started," Reynolds replied irritated, "I mean, I know many of these big companies are a bit peeved at us at the moment and maybe they have a right to be but that's no excuse for stupidity!"

Palmer snorted, "In my business, one thing you learn quickly is that stupidly exists everywhere but often covers a multitude of other sins."

"I bet," the Wing-Commander shot the reporter a calculating look, "but I doubt you just 'happened' to meet me in the corridor for the sake of it."

"Hah!" Palmer shook his head, "I'm a reporter; of course I have an ulterior motive when I go to talk with a friend."

The look he shot back was so old fashioned it was quite possibly Neolithic.

"Okay," Palmer smiled, "suspicious bastard that you are, I do want something. A few completely non-attributable comments regarding the progress of the space plane project."

"Should have seen that one coming," Reynolds sighed, "it wasn't as if you were going to ask about the massive paperwork involved in reorganising all the support craft into actual squadrons or anything."

"Necessary maybe," the reporter smiled, "boring, certainly. I've already sent a small piece about it over the wires but outside of specialist rags, I doubt any editor will allow it more then fifty words."

Reynolds snorted, "A years work, twelve assistants, three committees… and it almost isn't worth publishing.

Figures."

Palmer shrugged.

"Well, you do realize I might call a favour some day right?"

Simultaneously nodding and grimacing, he gestured at Reynolds to continue.

"Well, I finally got 'em to realize that the damned thing has to be armed," a shrug and a world-weary sigh emphasised the former test-pilots words, "I mean, its not as if we can assign a regular escort or something and we are talking about a ship that will have to, not might, have to pass through contested territory."

"Is it true they only wanted to equip the design with shields and rely on running away if an enemy came across her?"

"Worse," a wry grin, "they were planning on using the obvious neutrality of an unarmed warship as a defence. Apparently they had never gotten the idea into their heads that the Goa'uld and the Cylons don't recognise the concept of a civilian except perhaps as a lesser threat. I mean, the Cylons nuked twelve entire worlds after all."

"The 'guns will just make us a bigger target' defence?" Palmer shook his head, "like that ever works."

"And this is from group of companies that makes about 75% of their money on military projects anyway," Reynolds shrugged, "still; I got them to accept the necessity of pulse lasers and at least one main gun along with the military crews to go with them. Bastards tried to get us to pay for those additions too."

"Do you think they could have been using the whole overly pacifistic angle as a negotiating ploy?"

"If they were," he snorted, "it was a dumb one and it didn't work. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place and given they wanted to use technologies patented by the TSS, we definitely had the upper hand. The licensing fees ended up being their main point of contention but they will pay, on the other hand we have to give them more technical support then was originally planned."

Reynolds shrugged, "such is negotiation."

"True," Palmer nodded, "so basically, the project is a go?"

"Very much so," he smiled tightly, "but I still think they're taking a hell of a risk."

The reporter smiled as he put his notepad away, "so do Lloyds of London. Rumour has it the project director had a coronary when they presented him with their initial estimates on insurances rates for the birds."

"Oh," Palmer frowned at the odd look he was being sent, "you have truly no idea."