Responses to Earlier Comments:

Unnamed Guest who said, "Very cool so far". Appreciate it - thanks for the comment.

War Sage - For now, "Bree's Twin" is just the ship's name. There are no look-alikes. Evvie is just Evvie - or is she? But, you may have hit on a future issue. Thanks for the comments.

BSG FanFic - Bree's Twin

Chapter 7, The Marines Have Landed

Please note: I own no part or share in the Battlestar Galactica realm. This story is submitted for entertainment purposes only.

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.

"I don't need a new hatch. I need a frakking revolving door."

~ Cru's journal, if he had time to keep one.

The Fleet - 11 Days after the attack

"Welcome back to the fleet!" said Kevin, "Again!". Kevin was the census-taker from COLONIAL ONE. He had angered Cru, at the Ragnorak anchorage, with his over-abundance of happiness, during a time of heavy grief. That grief persevered or sunk to the doldrums of numbness for most. Kevin was a cheerleader of sorts. He had to be. It was how he kept the stifling hopelessness at bay.

Along with conducting the census, Kevin also extended the president's warning against hoarding food - that it all needed to be portioned across the fleet. This pushed Cru into a flash of anger. His response was far from complimentary and afterward, a little regretted.

"Captain Cru," said Kevin, "you and your cargo are my new best friends."

Cru rolled his eyes. "Hello Kevin," he said over the ship-to-ship radio. "Thank you, Kevin."

"Captain, we have the perfect place for you next to the Galactica," Kevin continued. "The President - 'Madam President' - said to me, 'Kevin, I want that ship where I can see it.' So, I have a place for you on our right, that's 'starboard' for you old nautical types, and the Galactica's left, A-K-A, their 'port' side."

"Is he for real?" asked John. He sat next to Cru, on his right. "Starboard, for the old nautical types?"

Cru shrugged.

"Captain," said Kevin, "You were away from the fleet, and some of us are nervous - not me of course because I am a trusting soul. They fear you might be Cylons." Kevin gave a light chuckle. "Can you believe it? Cyons?" He laughed. "Take-me-to-your-leader," he said with an absurd attempt at a monotone, robot-sounding voice.

Cru sighed. "Kevin…that was messed up - I don't know that Cylons even talk."

Kevin was caught off-guard. "Wait...what…" splurted Kevin.

Of course, Cylons could talk. The whole fleet knew Cylons looked and talked like humans. Two of the models had been identified - maybe three. Cru and his ship, BREE'S TWIN had been separated from the fleet for a total of eleven days - long enough to miss out on a very important bit of news.

Kevin balked. "Ummm…," he began again. He paused and Cru picked up on it. Something had changed. "Captain," Kevin continued after a long moment. "...I appreciate your candor. It was indeed messed up. I will have to work on it."

"Sure Kevin," replied Cru. He knew better than to tip his hand, so-to-speak, which was a gesture related to card-playing and a player revealing their cards too early. Something was different and Kevin wasn't ready to show his hand. Cru chose to play along. "In fact, Kevin, you should practice that voice on the new president."

Kevin laughed, albeit a bit forced. "Oh, no thank you, Mr. Ship-Captain-Cru. This Kevin likes his job right where he's at. He's been told by her, several times, that there is plenty of room in the 'Open Expanse'. We don't have a ship called the 'Open Expanse'. I think the Open Expanse is the area that starts right outside the airlocks - but that's just a guess."

Cru gave a light chuckle. The new president had a sense of humor, and maybe a little dark, too.

"Seriously though, Mr. Cru, before you take your position, you'll need to be boarded and inspected. In the president's words - her words not mine - she said, 'Cavity check the damn thing'."

"That's fine, Kevin," replied Cru. He wondered if the president was right there, with Kevin, watching over his shoulder. "I expected no less."

Cru turned down the radio and faced John. He opened his mouth to speak, but John was faster.

"You expected a cavity check, did you?" John was grieving but could not resist.

Cru chuckled. "I was a bit distracted. I could have responded better."

"Just so you know, I'm not dropping my pants for anybody's 'cavity check'." John gave a quick glance around. Evvie was as silent as a mouse when she approached. She could be in his chair, behind him, sipping from his glass, for all he knew. He didn't like Evvie but he also wasn't one to be crude or suggestive in front of people he didn't know. "You're welcome to oblige anyone who shows up here."

"They'll probably be Marines."

John paused. "Cavity checks and Marines - there's a joke in there somewhere."

"Not if you know what's good for you." Cru gave a smile. He picked up a hand-wireless.

"John, do me a solid and listen to the radio chatter. The Cylons may have had help in all this. Our friend Kevin clammed up on something."

"What do you mean?"

"The Cylons didn't say a word when they jumped aboard and popped holes through that Mark fellow. Or when I unloaded half a magazine on the first one, it did nothing - silent."

"I'm sure they have voice synthesizers," offered John.

"Yeah, but you missed the nuance. Cylons may talk just fine, I guess, but talking metal-heads is not something that merits a pause. Kevin paused. Somebody has a standard speaking voice, not Cylons and not seven feet tall."

"Humans?" said John with alarm. "Spies? Traitors?"

"Yeah," said Cru. "As I said - listen to the radio chatter. Find out what we don't know."

"Alright, will do."

"Meanwhile I'll meet whoever in the landing bay. Are we done hiding the extra inventory?"

Cru had made the decision to hide three-quarters of their food stores and other essentials rather than give them up to the fleet.

"Yeah, all of it," said John. "It's a big ship - lots of places to hide it. The boy was-"

"Fletcher?" asked Cru. Evvie, Emily, and Fletcher were part of the crew. It seemed best to remind John that they had names.

"Yeah him. He worked out okay. He climbed into a lot of places inspectors won't want to go."

Cru nodded. "And he can find it all again?" Cru gave a light smile. "It's a big ship."

"Yeah. The woman, Evvie, was particular about keeping track of everything."

"So they're working out then?" asked Cru. "I knew they'd be good for something."

"They do what they're told."

"Aboard ship, I don't ask for much more than that."

"Yeah, I know," replied John. He didn't like the conversation. The Hawkins family survived in place of his fiance and her son. "I gotta go."

Fletcher was the son of Mark and Evvie Hawkins. His sister's name was Emily. Mark was killed by a Cylon boarding party. Since then, Evvie sought ways for her family to be useful. She looked for ways to endear her children and herself to Cru and John. The alternative was being turned over to another ship of the fleet, most of which were dangerously overcrowded. Evvie's husband Mark had pushed their shuttle in front of the shuttle carrying John's fiance and her son, which resulted in their death. John was grieving and angry. Evvie had much to overcome.

~~~~~/~~~~~

Eight marines had shuttled to BREE'S TWIN in a Preditor assault vehicle. BREE'S TWIN didn't have an access port, it had a hole. The landing bay was filled with Cru's and the Hawkinses' shuttles. The marines bridged the remaining distance by cable. Cru let them into the landing bay. He hated depressurizing and opening the outer door. BREE'S TWIN was an old ship and he lost a lot of air that way. Still, he could either let the Marines in the 'easy' way, or he could let them choose their own way in. He chose 'easy' because Marines used any excuse to practice their Cut-Chop-Entry drills.

The marines doffed their pressure gear. Underneath, they wore their combat utility uniforms. Their boots were black and well polished. Their combat assault harnesses included extra ammo magazines, medical kits, and their long-bladed fighting knives. Each carried an assault rifle. Several marines carried electronics equipment to connect with the ship's computers. Several marines carried deep-scanning equipment to see where human eyes could not.

"Gentlemen," said the lead marine to Cru and John. He was a corporal by the name of Reed. "Please hold your hands together, interlock your fingers, and raise them over your head. I'm gonna need you to line up against the wall."

"I'm not doing that on my own ship," said Cru. He addressed the corporal directly. He held out his wallet, with it opened, and facing the marine.

The marines responded with weapons up, which is what they do when choosing between a non-compliance or the fractional moment needed to shoot first before a Cylon in the form of a human, with extra-human speed and precision could.

John went hands-up as he stepped back in alarm.

Cru relaxed his pose in sharp contrast to John. "Have a look, Corporal." Cru flipped the wallet closed and held it out to Reed.

Cru's gesture gave the corporal a pause and caused him to furrow his brow. He turned his head, slightly, without taking his eyes off Cru and gave a nod. A marine behind the corporal reached for and took hold of the wallet. She removed an identification card, gave it a quick read, and handed it to the corporal.

Cru watched the young corporal's eyes as they scanned first the front and then the back. He flipped the card over several times, back and forth. There was a laser-etched, 3D image in the likeness of Cru on the front and his description, a little outdated, on the obverse. The marine was satisfied with the contents but remained poised and alert.

"You're prior-service, sir, You should be aboard the Galactica."

Cru shrugged. "To do what, exactly, Corporal?"

"Lead, sir. Galactica was standing down when the attack came. It's undercrewed and you're an officer."

"I got my reasons, Corporal, and a whole lotta pride that'd get in the way."

"Sir?"

Cru shook his head and dismissed the conversation. "How about we move on."

"Okay sir," he said as he returned the wallet and ID, "Well then, we're gonna hold you here - standard precautions - until your ship is duly reconnoitered."

Cru nodded his agreement. Who was he to disagree with 'standard precautions' and reconnoitering? Cru was a Marine. He knew marines liked things simple - not complicated.

"That's fine Corporal. But, how about we take our ease here and not be lined up against the wall, like an execution." He caught sight of Evvie out of the corner of his eye just in the open doorway to his left, and out of sight of the marines. She flinched. Too late, he might have chosen a better word than 'execution'.

The corporal gave a long, thinking, pause. "Okay, we can do this," said the corporal. He waved the others to grab their gear. "We will be conducting a search of your vessel," he continued. "We will be connecting to your computer systems and looking for Cylon code. We will disable any internal and external networking capabilities. This is being done as a counter-measure against Cylon infiltration."

Cru and John nodded their understanding. Cylon network infiltration was the foundation of humanity's downfall.

"Is there anything you wish to declare or identify, sir, before we begin?"

"Sure," said Cru. "We're hiding contraband throughout the ship. We'd prefer you leave it where you find it. We have weapons aboard. You'll find them in our quarters."

The corporal nodded his understanding. Hoarding was in practice across the fleet - not his job to police. Weapons might have been confiscated in the past - but not now and not from Cru. He would make note of them and check related permits if these men had them.

"Contraband is outside the scope of this inspection. Despite our Cylon situation, you should still have weapons locked and away from children. Which brings up a point." Corporal Reed read from a one-page ship manifest - a printout with the small amount of information that so far had been gathered on BREE'S TWIN. "You have three others aboard, yes? Two female and one male?"

Cru nodded. "Yes, a Caprican woman and her two young-adult children." Cru called over his shoulder, "Mrs. Hawkins, Emily, Fletcher, please step out where you can be seen. It's okay."

Evvie stepped into view first. She took two small steps out from the doorway.

Evvie was dressed in her jumper again, which she had colored brown with common garment dye she had found with the convenience store inventory. It covered the bloodstains and hid them from the casual glance, but they did not remove the memory of how they got there. The short distance between her, Cru, and the marines was enough to hide the stitching of her repairs. The cuffs of her slacks did not hide her lack of shoes.

Back on Caprica and among the corporate influential circles, Evvie had often stunned with her first impressions. She had a natural poise with handsome demeanor and fetching smile. She was clever and could match wits with most in the room - if she chose to. Her husband, Mark, had been a capable man, well known, and on a fast track to the executive ranks, but sometimes it was Evvie, at the high-level social gatherings, with a throng of people surrounding and Mark standing alone, with a drink in hand, smiling.

The corporal's expression softened as did those of some of his men. Despite the impact of eleven days of hard labor on an old freighter, with ground-in stains on her hands, blisters, bruises, and several visible but healing wounds, Evvie could still create attention, none of which was her intention - not now, and not without Mark.

"Ma'am," said the corporal as he acknowledged her entrance. His gaze lingered a little longer than proper as he wondered how she came to be aboard BREE'S TWIN.

Cru looked back at Evvie. He had regarded her and her children as mouths to feed when budgeting food supplies and working hands when assigning tasks. BREE'S TWIN was understaffed and long in the need of a good overhauling, but she, and Emily, and Fletcher were as essential to operations as John or Cru himself because none could survive without the others - the ship could not function long without them. That was the extent of recognition that Cru gave to the Hawkinses. Mark Hawkins, Evvie's husband, caused the death of john's fiance, a woman who was also Cru's friend. That wound was too fresh and would remain so for the unforeseeable future. The corporal might be smitten by Evvie but Cru wasn't.

Or, maybe just a little.

For Evvie, it was different. Her eyes searched for Cru's and connected with them as if they alone were capable of conveying the urgency she felt, and the fear. Caprica was a smoking crater for all she knew - for all anyone knew. Humanity was a fractured existence balancing on the edge of a knife's blade. Tomorrow was no more guaranteed to her than her next breath or the breaths of her children. She peered into Cru's eyes and held them long. She lowered her eyes and released Cru's when Corporal Reed gestured her out from the doorway, further into the open space behind Cru and John. Again, she thought of Mark. Together they were a team, they had been for many years. Her confidence was broken and she was made vulnerable by her fear for Emily's and Fletcher's safety.

Evvie stepped out into full view and waved Emily and Fletcher to her side.

Emily wore one of Cru's good tee shirts, the only one that didn't have a vendor logo on it, over her slacks. The longer neckline of Cru's shirt hung low. She was uncomfortable as she stood before the eight marines; five men and three women, none of whom she had ever met before, and all of whom were dressed from head to toe in their intimidating military garb. She missed her father. He would know what to do and how to act. She wished he was with her. She wished he was not dead.

Fletcher was taken aback. The days aboard BREE'S TWIN were rapidly changing him from boy to man but he was unnerved in front of the marines. He and his family depended on the charity of Cru and John. And to him, Cru and John were at the mercy of these heavily armed fighting men and women. He noted his sister reach up and pull the neckline of her shirt together. He felt small in the oversized long-sleeve shirt he wore, which was also one of Cru's. He had a desire to shuffle in behind his mother, but those days were over. He stood where he was, watching and waiting.

"Okay," said Reed with a nod. "Please remain in this area while we work. PFC Landers will stay here. You'll have to pardon me, sir. He's required to remain under arms."

"Locked and loaded, I'm sure," said Cru.

"Yes, sir."

Cru nodded. "The ship is yours, Corporal."

"Thank you. sir."

~~~~~/~~~~~

Corporal Reed and his crew spent almost an hour searching the ship. There were many small confined spaces for a child to climb into but the areas that could hold an adult-sized, human-looking, Cylon or the full-sized, tall, mechanized version of a Cylon were limited.

The Marine with the communications gear plugged into the ship's systems and disabled out-facing network connections. The internal networks of BREE'S TWIN were limited to operational information, like the temperature sensors or status of energized equipment. They were connected to several onboard computers and a single data management server. Cru successfully argued that the ship flew by servos, relays, and actuators, with buttons, switches, and long runs of wiring to control them. BREE'S TWIN was more than twice Galactica's age and came from a time when computer systems were far less robust.

~~~~~/~~~~~

"Sir, I'm not going to lie to you. You got a serious frak-load of export 'cred' tucked away in this old bird," said Reed as the marines finished their work. Reed had relaxed some. The likelihood of a Cylon stow-away was markedly diminished.

"Cred?" said Cru. "Like Credit? You mean for bartering." Cru was familiar enough with contraband, smuggling, and the "black market" that springs up when commodities are regulated and the related laws are enforced. "Bartering" was a semi-harmless term that, in present times, meant the same as the black market.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure none but the cruise-liners have cases of toothpaste."

Cru gave an accepting smile. Food and fuel were the new currency, across the fleet, and he had at least three cases of toothpaste. BREE'S TWIN wouldn't fly on toothpaste, but Cru might trade it up for something more useful.

"I'd prefer you keep our cargo on the 'down-low'," said Cru. "We've got toothpaste and more, and are lacking other essentials." Cru gave a gesture towards the Hawkinses. "They need clothes, I left some of my good tools back on Caprica, and I have a 6x6, hole in my Receiving Deck."

"Copy that," said Reed with a nod. "I don't know about the clothes and tools, but for that hole, we have a maintenance rig with the fleet and I'm told it's standing by."

"That's good news."

"Aye, sir. They've been busy, but I was told that you are at the top of their list."

Just then, a marine stepped up with a bottle in his hands. Cru recognized the bottle. It was a 'top shelf' bottle of barrel-aged ambrosia. It had been in a drawer in one of the supply closets.

"The PFC has poor timing, sir, but I was going to ask if we could take a bottle with us - seeing as you have an abundance and all."

"That's a Mercury '52," said Cru. "Since when do marines have distinguished palates?"

Reed gave a laugh. "PFC Davis knows his drink, sir. He says it's 'A fine year'. I might point out that you are also a Marine."

"True," said Cru."Tell you what. I'll give you that bottle or a case of the ambrosia, blue label." Cru gestured back towards the storage hold where some of the stock was still boxed, stacked, and unhidden.

"Tough choice," said Reed.

"Blue label!" called a marine who prior to that moment, looked as if he was focused on packing scanner equipment and not eavesdropping on Cru's and Reed's conversation.

"We'll take the case," called another marine.

"Blue." called another.

Cru and Reed faced the others. Reed gave a gesture to the marines, that they needed to get back to work. He turned back to Cru.

"Apparently, quantity over quality," said Reed

Apparently so," said Cru.

"Blue label, if you please, sir."

Cru nodded.

Reed dispatched PFC Davis to swap out the bottle with the case.

Reed lowered his voice. "One more thing, sir, if I may,"

"Go ahead, Corporal."

"We won't say anything about your military service, I'll see to that. You want your privacy, I guess, but Galactica's gonna find you out. They're going to press you into service. It's happening in the rest of the fleet. Most folks welcome work on the Galactica over living conditions anywhere else - except Colonial One and some of the other ships, I guess."

Cru nodded. "I expect as much."

"And sir," added Reed. "You'd be the highest-ranked Marine. We could use you."

This ends Chapter 7

As always, drop a note if you have a question, comment, correction, or criticism. Feedback feeds the introvert.

~Mythrilforg