Trident Base – Poseidon's Trident
39 Days After the Fall
Commander Hyram Montgomery rolled his wheelchair up behind his desk. Two hours of physical therapy had left him wiped out, but at least he was now out of the casts and could actually work on getting back into some semblance of shape.
Pulling out his notes from the last brainstorming session on how to acquire the Scorpio Dynamics production equipment he commenced to reading through the various ideas. The problem always boiled down to the available forces. They were still months from bringing any additional Battlestars online. HEIMDAL could maybe be ready in another six or seven weeks, though only as part of a line of battle, which the Odin Class was never designed for. APHRODITE still needed five months for her rebuilding, SATURN needed far too much work, and ANUBIS was an empty...
An empty shell...
An... empty... shell...
Signing into his computer, he quickly brought up the inventory of munitions that had been recovered from the various battle sites and also had been collected from the in-transit freighters they had recovered.
"FRACK that's a lot of missiles."
Somehow they had managed to acquire not only dozens to hundreds of reloads for every type of ship mounted launcher but they also had literally thousands of surface to air and surface to space missiles with their launchers that were being shipped to various home guard units due to a recent Colonial Army reduction in force. All of this on top of the production facilities that were coming on-line in several of the colony rocks now.
"It doesn't have to be a Battlestar," he mused. "Yet."
Pulling out the latest survey reports on the ANUBIS he flipped to the structural survey section and began to smile. Sub-light drives were not so great, but they currently had thrusters to spare from both the collected wrecks and the decommissioned civilian craft. Thanks to the team from the PHOENIX he already knew how fast the FTL work could get done.
"Five weeks. Yes, give me five weeks."
Pounding away at his keyboard, Commander Montgomery sent off a request to meet with Admiral Uri.
Scoutstar ACCIPITER – Aphrodite's Veil
39 Days After the Fall
Major Antony Dane stared out the cockpit window of his first command, straight down the barrel of the largest gun the Colonial Fleet armory produced. A barrel that was tracking their minor drift relative to the behemoth looming out of the darkness. A barrel that had a slight glint of light at the far end of it that could only be the interior lights of the ACCIPITER's command deck reflecting off the pointy end of the loaded High Explosive Armor Piercing shell.
Light that would not be able to reflect if it were not for the gods be damned windows!
He moved his head slightly and the light disappeared. When he moved it back, it reappeared. Slowly he turned, noting the light that pointed at an angle down at the plot table that was on a line with his head and the reflection.
"Petty Officer Weaver. Please answer their challenge with the appropriate codes and request to to speak Actual to Actual." Tony was somewhat impressed that his voice did not break while issuing that order.
While he waited for communications to be established he studied what he could see of the ship facing them. Much of it was still cloaked in the darkness of the dust cloud but something seemed to twinge at him as his eyes followed the visible lines. Clear signs of battle damage traced great rents and craters across the armor of the beast. As his eyes flowed across to port along the inverted dorsal lines of the main hull, the edges faded out much closer than it seemed they should. To starboard there was a scattering of lights that must be the upper front edge of the port flight pod before it too faded out.
"Commander, I have GOLDEN HIND Actual on the line for you."
"Thanks Sparks. Transfer it to the Plot." Tony moved back to the table under the DRADIS tree and picked up a handset. "GOLDEN HIND Actual, this is ACCIPITER Actual. Major Anthony Dane."
"ACCIPITER Actual, GOLDEN HIND Actual. Major Russ Alexandros. I have received your codes but must request clarification. We have no record of either your vessel or of the Trident Fleet you reference."
"I understand Major. I have a detailed hardcopy briefing packet available for delivery to your hand. I can have one of my Raptor's courier it over or, if you prefer, one of yours can come over and make the pick-up."
"Negative on the pickup ACCIPITER. GOLDEN HIND currently has zero flight capability. Your Raptor will need to dock to Dorsal Port Four."
"Affirmative GOLDEN HIND. No flight capability. My Raptor will dock your port Dorsal Four. Expect a flight crew, two Marines, my Chief Engineer and Myself in one hour."
Out the window, Tony saw a small area a hundred feet to the right of the big gun that was still aimed down their throat light up.
"Understood ACCIPITER. Party of six at Port 4 in one hour. Please take up escort two position relative and follow us in. GOLDEN HIND Actual out."
"GOLDEN HIND, escort two and follow you in. ACCIPITER Actual Out."
Light coming through the cockpit began to shift as the battered Mercury Class Battlestar started to rotate to point back into the clearing that was still invisible through its border wall of dust.
"Helm, put us two klicks off their port beam and match their course and speed."
"Two klicks off GOLDEN HIND's port beam and hold station with them aye."
"Fraaaaack." Captain Wrex's drawn out expletive drew his attention.
When Tony looked, he knew why the Battlestar had reported zero flight capability. Her entire starboard flight pod was gone and the starboard thrusters were crushed mounds of scrap metal. As the turn continued and the ACCIPITER moved itself into the escort two position, the port side of the ship came into view. The only thing better about this side was that three of the four thrusters were working and the fourth at least looked repairable. The flight pod was more hole than whole, with only the first two-hundred feet of the upper bay appearing even close to intact. Even so desperately wounded, the Battlestar still carried herself with a grace of movement that belied her state. As the Scoutstar slid out to the two klick mark, the Battlestar faded to an indistinct figure in the cloud.
"Sensors. Active DRADIS in low-power navigation mode. XO. Set me up a Raptor for skids up in forty five minutes. I want both Marines, the flight crew, the Chief Engineer and yourself in the flight ready room for the briefing in fifteen."
Gamma Cyrannus – New Virgon
39 Days After the Fall
Fifteen year old Prince Regent Lionel leaned back in his chair, the bones along his spine cracking as he did so. Eighteen days since his speech. Eighteen days since he realized that he needed to step forward and lead or his people would wither away into an empty husk of who they once were.
Eighteen of the most exciting and simultaneously boring days he had ever experienced.
And now, after nearly three weeks of arguments, pleas, impassioned screaming, three fistfights and even one all out brawl. It was done.
All he had to do was sign his name to the document in front of him, along with the Colony Administrator Niles Mathias, Admiral Gandolf Uri, and Director Jackson Smythe. Four names penned to a piece of paper.
Four signatures and New Virgon would be the first of the asteroid colonies to get a formal government.
Colony services would remain the auspices of the Colony Administration. A professional agency whose purpose would be to maintain the ability of New Virgon to support its population through the coming exodus. The CA would have a small Marine security force to protect critical infrastructure but would otherwise hand over any policing duties to the civilian government.
Lionel's government would be a Constitutional Monarchy, with a bicameral legislature consisting initially of a Citizen's House with one legislator for every twenty-five thousand citizens and a House of Union with representatives elected from each major profession. To be eligible for office in the Citizens House, one had to be of age to vote and also have participated in at least four consecutive elections as a voter. Of course this requirement would be waived until the fourth consecutive election after establishment.
The Citizen's House would define the initial professions for the House of Union and in future would be able to add new professions by a two-thirds vote in favor. Members of the House of Union would be required to have at least 10 years in their field to be eligible for election.
Lionel himself, or his father upon arrival, would have veto power over any legislation, though the two houses could override the veto with a two-thirds majority vote. The Monarch would be able to directly propose legislation to both Houses for consideration, the first of which would be the initial List of Professions agreed upon in the negotiations for the House of Union.
New Virgon would also have its own judiciary to both interpret the laws and to sit in judgment of violations of the same. Said Judiciary, like the New Virgon government itself, to be subservient to any reconstituted Colonies of Man government and Judiciary.
Director Smythe wasn't thrilled with that aspect, but he understood. After forty years, the average citizen expected there to be a unified colonial government. Besides, as things currently stood, by virtue of the actions the Director of Hades' Chest had taken to ensure the people's survival, Jack Smythe was that unified government.
The ancient tales of Atlas came to mind as Lionel picked up his pen. As he put his name down in blood red ink he felt the weight of a world come to rest on his shoulders.
Education, security, jobs, housing, food, fiscal policy, emigration, imports, exports, taxes, welfare, entertainment, communication, diplomacy... Without letting out the groan he felt deep in his gut he pondered... 'What have I just done.'
Scoutstar ACCIPITER – Aphrodite's Veil
39 Days After the Fall
Raptor 4-1-7 was one of the older Raptors put back into service from those on board the IMLAY. The Mark Three Raptor was nearly thirty years old and had last been updated over a decade before. In spite of this, the rugged assault transport smoothly lifted off the deck and slipped out the hatch to ACCIPITER's combined landing/service bay on schedule.
A very short flight later and the visiting crew from the Scoutstar were docked to the number four port atop the wounded beast of a Battlestar. Once the pilot and the dock control operator both confirmed that their boards were green, the junior of the two Marines aboard lifted the deck hatch-cover and secured it to the Raptor's aft bulkhead. Next he undogged the actual hatch, raising and securing it to the deck-cover. Two taps on the Battlestar hatch below with a hammer soon had the GOLDEN HIND's crew opening the corresponding hatches from their side. A ladder extended up, crowding the limited space in the assault transport.
At a nod from their commander, the two Marines, moments apart, hooked their insteps on the edges of the ladder and quickly slid down the side-rails to the deck below. They were soon followed by the ACCIPITER's Chief Engineer, Tony went next and would be followed by the ECO and then the Pilot.
At the base of the ladder, Tony paused. The first thing he noticed was the smell. Every ship he had ever been on had a distinct aroma. For the crew of the ship, it was the smell of home, for a knowledgeable visitor, that smell could tell a story. The ACCIPITER's smell was a mix of electronics and gun-oil with a strange under layer of foam rubber and an accumulated miasma of perfume and cologne from the former liner's passengers. He had spent a brief time on the RA, where the smell was old, damp steel and paint so thick in the air he could taste it on the back of his tongue with a good dose of human sweat, old cooking and cordite. GOLDEN HIND's smell was the acrid smell of fires recently extinguished and burned out electronics with the coppery flavor of spilled blood drifting from the struggling air vents.
Turning, he stepped up to a yellow line painted on the floor. Standing in the hatch in front of him was a weary man who was probably about his own age, but looking fifteen years older, wearing a uniform very much like a rumpled version of his own, that of a Colonial Fleet Major. Tony made note of the pilot's wings on the Major's chest and the squadron patch still on his scorched and torn sleeve.
Tony snapped off a smart salute to the GOLDEN HIND's commanding officer. "Major Antony Dane, Scoutstar ACCIPITER. Permission to come aboard?"
"Permission granted," the other man replied, returning the salute then offering his hand to shake. "Major Russ Alexandros. Welcome aboard the 'Shiny Deer', currently the biggest damned fracking Gunstar in the fleet. Gods are we glad to see you here."
"Every additional survivor is a gods-send, Commander," Tony voiced his respect for the role the man was filling as he took Russ' hand. "Allow me to introduce my Chief Engineer, Captain Hank Whidbey."
Hank was a cadaverous man. Already tall, his thin frame made him seem to stretch even higher, while his gaunt features gave the impression of a man who had not eaten in a couple months. "A pleasure to meet more survivors Major." His voice, when he spoke was sepulchral.
Turning, Tony took his valise from the Raptor's ECO. "If you have somewhere we can speak, I have that briefing packet for you. And while we do so, perhaps Hank can get a quick survey of your status, see if there's anything we can assist with."
Outskirts of Celeste – Scorpia
39 Days After the Fall
Corporal Adrian Gliesmann advanced slowly down the large corridor a hundred meters beneath the Scorpia Dynamics factory. Alissa Aroyo, one of the two privates was on point, fifty meters further down the corridor with a member of the local resistance. The second Sebastian Hellas was in trail, an equal distance back from the main group, also in company with a local fighter. The main body consisted of himself, Balto Curtis, the two truck drivers, Jacob Marmon and Peter White as well as an additional four of the locals.
The group had waited for the next Cylon sweep before advancing on and entering the abandoned factory. In keeping with the immediate post-war policy, accesses to the secure bunkers beneath the facility were originally designed to be camouflaged. While recent years had seen many businesses stripping away such protections as the facilities were expanded into what was considered to be otherwise useless space, the Curtis family had not done so. Instead not only seeing that they were maintained but going so far as to set up decoys leading to false shelters that were then made to look like they had been revealed and incorporated into the factory workspace.
This foresight is what had allowed the factory staff and their families to not only survive the initial bombardments of the colony but to also successfully hide from the Cylon ground sweeps during the weeks immediately following.
Now, Corporal Gleismann's team was moving through the hidden facility that actually extended beneath the neighboring mountainside. Balto had led them off of the main corridor into a side passage that sloped upward. Exiting the hallway onto a walkway overlooking a cavernous space that was dimly lit by faintly glowing emergency lights, the group paused. Spread out before them were crates and large, tarp-covered machinery stretching far beyond the pitiful reach of their flashlights.
This is what they were here for. The equipment necessary to enable their final escape from the Cylons. According to Balthazar, at the far end of this facility was a truck-ramp leading up on the far side of the mountain to the company's spaceport. Now all they needed to do was acquire the trucks necessary to load all this equipment and get it aboard the three Marinestars... whenever they arrived.
But first, they had to do an inventory.
Cylon Resurrection Hub
40 Days After the Fall
Lydia pulled her hand out of the interface tray and looked over at Simon and Ivan as they did the same.
"The pre-merge is running brothers."
The model four, Simon, nodded. "Sorting the incidents to prevent overlap should take about forty hours."
Ivan shook his head. "It still will not be enough to merely lay this on an active template. The template will not know that, or even how, it needs to sort this information and merely copying mine will not work either. I suspect the two of you already knew that though."
"It is why we approached John. Our best projection is to overlay the merged data on a prepared resurrecting stream."
"Frack. So I get to die for the cause."
"Not until you've internalized the changes to your cognitive processor that will enable you to merge with and sort the corrupted data."
"Fine! I'll be in my quarters, interfacing with your program. Again." The Model One Cylon threw up his hands in frustration and stormed out of the room.
The Four looked over at Lydia. "What about the rest of the models?"
"I had already arranged for volunteers from each of the others before we approached John." She shook her head. "The arrogance of his line pretty much guaranteed we would require the line head issue an order for one of his copies to participate."
Simon nodded. "So we should start setting up merges for the others now?"
Lydia yawned. "Not tonight. No sense in making a mistake because we tried to push through when tired."
Scoutstar ACCIPITER – Aphrodite's Veil
40 Days After the Fall
Tony stood at the plot table, once again gazing out the forward windows of his command. He had been unsurprised at how reticent the Battlestar's commander was regarding any other vessels in their group. Due to the manner in which the Fleet had fallen, suspicions continued to run high against any outsiders. All Major Alexandros would commit to was bringing Tony before the leadership council that the small fleet had put together. More detailed requests for help would have to come through them. He had then spent the next several hours briefing the GOLDEN HIND's commanding officer on the Trident Fleet and Director Smythe's plan before his team had returned to the ACCIPITER.
Whidbey had been carrying a fair-sized novel's worth of damage reports from the GOLDEN HIND's engineering and damage control teams. With his ship's limited on-hand resources, small crew, and minimal machine-shop facilities it was quickly determined that there was actually very little the ACCIPITER could do to physically assist her larger cousin.
However, that did not mean his ship's presence did not have a marked, positive impact on the status of the battered Battlestar. As had been proven time and again over the lifespan of the Colonial Fleet, the only thing faster than a ship's FTL jump was the speed at which rumor spread through a ship's crew. In the case of the GOLDEN HIND, the worn, tired, and wounded mass of humanity occupying her scorched corridors had, upon Major Dane's team's arrival, begun to spark back to life.
Yes, they were tired. Yes, they were hurting. Yes, their ship was a shadow of what she once was. But, they now knew that they were no longer alone against the night. Word was spread that there was not just one ship, but a fleet. There was no longer just the pained hobble away from extinction. Now there was a plan to survive and build back stronger than before. Major Dane could feel it as his team had marched through the Battlestar to re-board their Raptor. The hustle in the way the repair crews were moving, the extra kick in the step of the Marine squad doing a PT run, and even the way Major Alexandros stood just that little bit straighter. The 'Shiny Deer' had a mission again.
Even now, after ten hours of pacing the larger vessel through the dust clouds, he could swear that the three working thrusters seemed to glow just that little bit stronger and the other ship moved that tiny bit more smoothly.
Tony hoped that the Fleet council he was to meet with would not disappoint them.
Their progress through the cloud had been marked by a steady increase in the glow of the gasses and dust. It was now to the point where what he could see out the window could be considered to resemble what the un-experienced would expect the entire cloud to be like on the inside.
And then, as if stepping through a gauzy curtain, the ACCIPITER broke free of the cloud. This was no mere pocket in the gasses cleared out by a random planet sized body exercising its gravity to sweep up dust. He should have expected it from the glow and the thickness of the dust and gasses in the cloud wall, but somehow Tony was still surprised when they broke out at the heliopause of a young, mid-sized star. Its accretion disk swirling like a miniature galaxy along the ecliptic. The surrounding cloud of gas glowing back in a dim, electric purple hue.
Free of the dust, the two ships could both increase speed significantly and they were soon approaching a series of large, fluffy, cometary bodies around which a number of harder returns were pinging back on the DRADIS.
These hard returns soon resolved into more detailed returns indicating a number of ships of varying sizes. Out the window he began to see them, growing larger as they approached. Passenger liners, freighters, a couple mining ships, a heavily damaged Agro ship with half it's domes opened to space, various industrial ships and a tylium tanker. Then they moved around one particularly large snowball to see the unexpected sight of the Fleet Repair Dock VULCAN.
Sister ship to the MONBADE, the VULCAN had been the victim of an early round of President Adar's cost cutting in the military budget. As a result, she had been sold to a private company who had set up shop moving around the Colonies performing service work on civilian ships, salvaging breakdowns on the major shipping routes and taking the occasional contract for maintenance on Fleet units.
VULCAN, however, had not come through unscathed. Much like the GOLDEN HIND, great rents and craters scored her hull and one of her lower clamshell doors was missing about two-thirds of its length. Docked along the upper-side gantry was an Odin class Battlestar, her back shattered and her flight pods missing.
Following traffic control directions from the crew of the repair ship, ACCIPITER slowed to a stop. The Scoutstar drifting the last few meters past the VULCAN only to see something totally unexpected.
Floating beside the mobile repair dock was the strangest ship Major Dane had ever seen. Like a kid had taken several of their old, broken toys and started gluing disparate pieces onto the most intact of them. To his right, his XO gave a low whistle.
"I'll be damned," Wrex muttered. "Where the hell did they find an Imperial Leonis Potentate Class Battleship? Wait..."
As Katerin shook her head Tony looked over at her. "Wait what?"
"If I remember correctly, the only one of those not accounted for is the GRAND POTENTATE XEAL II. She went missing during the Leonian invasion of Tauron three hundred and ten years ago."
There was silence as they both stared out the window at the oddly attractive hodgepodge vessel.
"I don't know what impresses me more," Tony replied. "That they're getting an over three hundred year old ship operational, or that they've grafted the SET's flight pods onto it."
A/N: And here we have our next homage/recommendation. Xeal II. I highly recommend their story 'Dreadnought's Revenge'.