Monbade, thanks for the comment. lol - Rejoining the fleet is a requirement for upcoming chapters. Cru and John have 30 cases of booze, smokes, and deodorant - perfect for smuggling into the secondary markets. :)
BSG FanFic - Bree's Twin
Chapter 4, Ragnar
Please note: I own no part or share in the Battlestar Galactica realm. This story is submitted for entertainment purposes only. Any similarities in names (other than specific BSG cast) are unintended. Any plot similarities to other FF stories are also unintended.
Reminder: I did not spend time making up non-earth names for common things; a soda is not a "fizzy ", oil is not "slip-juice", a pistol is not a mini 'hand-boomer", etc.
"Kevin's positive energy might be inspiring to some. If he were on my ship, he'd be cleaning the bathrooms."
~Cru, Journal, if he had time to keep one
Debris Field, Day of the Attack
"Uh oh," said Cru as he stepped onto the bridge.
Two large hulking pieces of ships, traveling next to each other, and on a collision course with BREE'S TWIN, loomed before them. The portion on the right was the engine, wing, and half the fuselage of a transport ship. The portion on the left was the tail end and airlock of a cargo ship.
"You take the controls," said John. "Death will not be at my hands."
BREE'S TWIN was a large freighter that had been refitted for hauling Tyllium fuel. The ship was as large as a ship could be for landing on planets - anything larger was built off-planet and stayed off-planet. It was a heavy and poorly maneuvering ship when empty and when full of fuel or cargo, was best left on a straight-line course. The ship, at its heaviest, could make a one hundred and eighty-degree turn, safely, in about two minutes. The same turn could be done in less than fifteen seconds if all manners of safety were abandoned.
Cru dropped into his chair. The chair was blue leather and had once been comfortable. Decades of use and all the needed repairs left it threadbare, stitched, and color-worn. It was cold to the touch. It squeaked when its occupant shifted his weight. The old captain's chair had a safety belt which was never used but sometimes should have been.
The push of a button switched the controls over from John to Cru. The dashboards in front of Cru lit up as if coming alive. Life support numbers were steady, which was better than most trips. Gravity was a touch light - he would worry about that later. Fuel systems, all of them, were in the green. Heating, cooling, water, and fluid controls were fine. The cameras and monitoring were struggling, but fine. Radios and DRADIS were on, but useless. The back thrusters were ready. The portside bow lifter was offline but the starboard side was not. And finally, the FTL, Faster-Than-Light, drive was prepped and ready. Cru needed only to move BREE'S TWIN out of the expanding field of destruction and jump away. That was, except for the two massive chunks of smoldering, cooling, lifelessness, heading their way. Together, they were death in less than thirty seconds.
"Hold on to something," said Cru. He wasn't sure if he said it out loud or in his head.
The bow lifter, the only one working, blasted awake. The nozzle thrusting at hard burn, even just the one, was powerful enough to flex the great ship along its spine. It was like lifting a long, heavy beam at one end. This was accounted for in the ship's design but was never, ever advised. Cru, the freighter's captain, knew that bending an old freighter was only a little better than having that freighter struck by a large piece of a dead ship. The choice was no choice at all.
For added measure, Cru swiveled the bow maneuvering jets downward and the stern maneuvering jets upward and gave them several long blasts for the extra oomph.
The large ship turned on its lateral axis, first slow then faster, head over tail, with deep creaking and groaning as it went. Even as the ship began the action, Cru performed a spin on its longitudinal so that, roughly twenty-one seconds and ninety degrees later, the ship was turned and the thrusters faced the opposite direction. One hard blast stopped the ship dead-still and caused every loose item of inventory to spill from every shelf throughout the full of the ship.
"Are you frakking kidding me!" shouted John. The moment was dire. The action was desperate. For the moment, John forgot his grief.
Both men watched as the two large hulking pieces of ships passed on either side of BREE'S TWIN with no more than three feet of room between them and their life-ending impacts.
Cru looked at John. John looked at Cru. Both men had eyes as wide as dinner plates.
"Holy frak…." Cru mouthed the words because he was speechless.
"You sir, are the best pilot I know," said John in disbelief, "the best frakking pilot I've ever known or heard of."
"I think I just wet myself," said Cru.
"Well, you're not sitting in my chair."
"No, John, I wouldn't hear of it." Cru's tone was of a man struck dumbfounded. He covered his mouth with both hands and took deep measured breaths. "Did you see what I just did?"
"Yes I did," said John.
"Okay," said Cru. "Now we get out of here before something else tries to kill us."
John's grief returned in a wave. The distraction was gone. His shoulders sagged as he gave a great sigh.
"Cru," said John, after several long minutes. Debris continued to hammer BREE'S TWIN, and a particularly heavy impact echoed through the ship. "I've had enough. How about you set me loose in the shuttle and I just wait it out here? You take the ship out and get these people away" He referred to the Hawkinses. "I'm just done."
Cru sat in silence as he contemplated John's words. Setting John adrift would be leaving him to die. John preferred death to life without his fiancé.
Cru swiveled in his seat, towards John. Another loud impact boomed throughout the ship.
"John, I suppose this is the time when I give you a rousing speech, slap you to your senses, and tell you Lita wouldn't have wanted this - you know, like they always do in the books and movies. I guess all I got is the practicality of the situation. You know and I know, we can't open the bay door without more risk and I cannot fly the ship without you. You are my closest friend and my father loved you like a son. You stayed with him when I ran off to the Marines and you stayed on after I took over for my dad. I can't leave you here. I won't leave you here. Wars don't last forever. This one won't either. When it's over, we'll come back, I'll hire some science puke to look at all the data, the vectors, trajectory, direction, speed, all that. We'll find her.
John sighed.
"Whatta you say?"
John remained silent for a long while. He intertwined his fingers, over and over, while he poured over memories. "That's fine Cru. You can get us out of here. With billions lost - families, children…" John paused again. "Lita and I weren't married. We barely saw each other, except when she brought over work. There are so many who lost more than me."
"John, I don't believe that one bit," said Cru without hesitation. "You two were great together. And, that boy of hers was smart as a whip. You've got the right to grieve."
John fell silent as he continued interweaving his fingers.
"Okay," said Cru at last. "I'll get us out of here."
Cru slid open a nearby drawer and pulled out a bottle of Ambrosia. "I've still got half a bottle of the Gold Label, '22. Tonight, we'll toast her up right."
John gave another sigh. "That's fine, Cru. Do what you need to."
Cru nodded. "Okay."
~~~~~/~~~~~
The Ragnar Anchorage was hard to find, even with precise jump coordinates. The electronic telemetry of old ships was useless because of the heavy electrical interference and the many false readings it produced. One had to look out a window and find it.
"That's gotta be it," said Cru as he pointed. "Right there. It's darker, like the inside of a large funnel."
John nodded his head. "There should be a beacon or something."
"No, said Cru. "It'd do no good, here. Not for us. Not with this interference. Plus, it's military. Those folks can jump right next to the entrance. People like us get the wide numbers - a long distance out, so we don't interfere with the big gunboats."
John nodded again. "And you can fit a lot of ships in there? Up by the anchorage?"
"Sure, a whole battle group. Two, if they're at closed ranks."
John nodded his understanding.
~~~~~/~~~~~
"This is Lieutenant Thrace of the Battlestar Galactica, transmitting in the open. Colonial freighter, BREE'S TWIN, heave to immediately and stand by for assessment. Acknowledge."
Two colonial vipers had peeled off from the large tangle of refugee vessels as Cru sailed BREE'S TWIN clear of the Ragnar approach. The heavy electromagnetic interference had masked the ship as it worked through the higher layers. At the same time Cru's DRADIS picked up the many transponders out before it, his transponder credentials were similarly picked up across the fleet. A minor panic swept the frightened and wary ship's captains, but Lieutenant Thrace's commanding voice, responding to the new arrival, helped quicken the abatement.
"Understood, Lieutenant," said Cru over the ship-to-ship. He used the bow maneuvering jets to bring BREE'S TWIN to a halt.
The two vipers drifted sideways across the bow of BREE'S TWIN. They faced inward with their head-lamps on and cannon at the ready. The bright lights lit up the bridge.
"Those are Mark II Vipers," said Cru as he recognized the model. "They're old - not what I would expect."
John nodded. "Not a lot of this day was what any of us expected."
Cru nodded.
Cru and John stood to give the viper pilots a good look at them. Cru lifted his hand to his brow and gave a loose, informal salute like older veterans give when recognizing someone from the military. The simple gesture established an understanding with Thrace and the other viper pilot. They might assume Cru was either former military or someone who was comfortable around the services.
"Stand by," said Thrace.
The two vipers swung out over BREE'S TWIN and did a quick survey. Cru and John watched as they spent extra time at the damaged access port.
"Lieutenant, how bad is it from your-" began Cru.
"Stand by, Bree's Twin" interrupted Thrace.
"Okay, but I could use some-"
"Bree's Twin, I said stand by."
Cru and John exchanged looks.
"She's all business, this one," said Cru to John. "Still, I'd like to know what she's seeing."
John nodded his agreement.
Cru and John continued to watch, via the cameras as the two vipers swept under and forward, and spent more time inspecting where the port bow lifter had misfired twice.
"Bree's Twin," called Thrace at last, using the direct ship-to-ship radio. "Message from Galactica-"
"Stand by, Lieutenant," interrupted Cru. He gave a wry smile at John. John didn't respond.
"Did you see any survivors-"
"Lieutenant, I said, stand by," said Cru.
The Lieutenant's viper flipped out from under BREE'S TWIN to face Cru through the front cockpit windows. Cru could see Thrace's face through her viper's canopy. She was not amused.
"Were you the last ship out?" growled Thrace.
"Lieutenant, please tell Galactica we were eyeballs only after the missiles - no radio, no DRADIS. We could see no other ships under their own power.
"No other ships at all," said John under his breath. "Nothing but graves and scrap metal."
"Anyone back there is A-K'd," continued Cru. "All the big pieces were lights-out and drifting.
"Understood," snapped Thrace. "Stand by."
"John, I'll handle this," said Cru while they waited. "Could you crawl under the receiving deck and work your way aft? Start clearing a path back to the landing. If we can get some engineers aboard, they'll need access with their gear."
John nodded. "Alright, boss," he said, with no emotion. He paused in midstep. "What does 'A-Cade mean? I don't know that one."
"It's an acronym, A-K-A-D. It's short for 'Also Known as Dead'."
John nodded his understanding. "There's a lot of that today."
"Yeah." Cru gave a heavy sigh. "Agreed."
"Okay," said John, in an effort to change the subject. "What about our stowaways? I don't want to see them. I don't want to even know they exist."
"I know, I know," said Cru. "Try to avoid them. We'll deal with them in time."
"You will, Cru, not me." John picked up a hand-held radio on the way out and held it to his ear as he disappeared down the steps.
"You're right," said Cru as he watched John leave. "I will. Not you."
~~~~~/~~~~~
"Bree's Twin, this is Colonial One," said a cheery voice over the ship-to-ship.
"Go ahead Colonial One," said Cru into the mic.
Cru hadn't left the bridge, not even for a second. He listened to what was arguably the last of humanity crying and speculating on its life expectancy.
"Welcome back to the fleet. We are so glad you made it."
"Um...we are glad to be here." Cru frowned. Pleasantries seemed out of place. The last he saw of the planet, Caprica, was bright spots where cities were going up in flames. The last he saw of the non-FTL ships was a massive debris field. The last he saw of Lita and her family was unmoving bodies through a broken fuselage window.
"Who am I speaking to," asked the voice from Colonial One, "if you don't mind my asking"
"This is Richard Cru...Captain. Who am I speaking to?" Cru rolled his eyes and breathed heavily. "If he asks me about the weather next…"
"This is Kevin. I'm in charge of the census. Lucky me, right? Captain, how many are aboard your vessel? How many adults and how many children?"
"We have three adults, total, and two children."
"Three adults and two children, how wonderful. Okay then, what are their sexes? How many males and how many females?"
Cru growled to himself. Kevin was happy for some gods-forsaken reason. Anyone happy and cheerful after the last four hours better expect sarcasm.
"I have no idea. I didn't ask them."
"Okay Captain, I understand. Can you guess for me? How many of each, based on their appearances?"
Cru gave another heavy breath. "We have two adult males and one adult female - based on our appearances. The children are one of each - based on their appearances."
"And, how old are the children?"
Cru considered the overly cheery fellow wanting to know how old the kids were. Great. "They are more like young adults than children. The girl is maybe sixteen or seventeen and the boy is...well, I don't know, maybe he's a child. I think he's eleven or twelve." Cru was irritated and it was getting harder to contain.
"So, that's three males and two females."
"Yes, Kevin, and I applaud you on your math skills."
"Thank you, captain. You are so kind."
Cru took a deep breath and released it slowly.
Cru thought about Evvie and her children. They were now officially on the census - on a list, somewhere on some ship at an anchorage floating in the layers of a gas giant planet. They were three members of a family whose sole existence was their presence on that list. So too were Cru and John. Anything and everything they had ever possessed was left back on Caprica. Their sole possessions were their names."
"Captain, please take an inventory of your supplies," continued Kevin. "We will be pooling resources across the fleet. The President has deemed it illegal to falsify your inventory report or to hide supplies from inclusion. Each ship will be inspected. Penalties for hoarding will be severe."
"Kevin, what did you say?" asked Cru. "Penalties would be what?"
"Severe, captain," replied happy-Kevin. "The penalties would be severe."
"Really? More severe than what we just left?"
Kevin paused. He didn't know what to say.
Cru didn't pause. He knew exactly what to say.
"Kevin, you can blow it out your happy, frakking pipe-hole," said Cru. "Fifty billion people died four hours ago and you're worried about me hiding a box of toaster frakking pastries? I just got boarded by the frakking Cylons. They gunned down a man standing right next to me and their boarding resulted in a decomp that just about ended my beloved ship, whom I treasure a whole lot more than your sorry ass, your damn president, and your damn census."
"I'm sorry, Captain, I'm just trying to be positive here-" started Kevin in a wavering voice, but Cru wasn't finished.
"Not forty minutes ago, I flew this boat out from within the shadow of incontrovertible and imminent death. My life and those lives aboard this ship have been on a razor's frakking edge since Caprica and you want to know how many rolls of gods-damned toilet paper I have."
There was a long pause of silence. Kevin keyed the mic but didn't know how to respond.
"Did he say he was boarded by Cylons?" The background voice was female, somewhat familiar, and had a ring of authority.
End of Chapter 4