Responses to Earlier Comments:
War Sage, Thanks for the comments, per usual. I didn't find much info on tylium production. I'm all for preserving the original storyline, so I floated the concept of B-Grade "dirty" tylium (Lords of Canon forgive me). Cru's cargo is still a prize. The fleet will still need more tylium but the older ships, a little less so. I expect some controversy will arise on whether it should remain aboard the ailing Bree's Twin or not.
BSG FanFic - Bree's Twin
Chapter 8, Fixing a Hole
Please note: I own no part or share in the Battlestar Galactica realm, either commercial or otherwise. 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.
"Patience is a virtue - so is having a weapon, in the apocalypse, when the need arises."
~ Cru's journal, if he had time to keep one.
The Fleet - 11 Days after the attack
A maintenance rig maneuvered into position within minutes of BREE's arrival and waited in irons, which was an old nautical term for heading into the wind and remaining mostly stationary. But out in the void, it simply meant facing the opposite direction of nearby vessels and more or less, staying out of the way.
In the same minute the Marines left, the ship-to-ship radio rang out.
"Bree's Twin, prepare to receive us."
Cru was still in the ship's stern. He picked up a remote which patched him into the ship's radio.
"We are ready," said Cru "Who...are…" Cru hesitated. The tone on the radio changed. It indicated a modulated signal was no longer present. The maintenance rig didn't wait for a reply.
"That's not friendly," said Cru to John. He lifted an eyebrow.
John shrugged.
The maintenance rig slammed against the ship's hull before locking on.
"That was fast," said John as he clicked on a nearby monitor and angled a camera forward to look for the ship. As hard as it struck BREE's flank, it might have bounced off of it. He and Cru watched the vessel reposition over the gaping hole that had once been the access port.
Cru nodded. "Yeah, too fast," he said with a frown. He referred to the rig's fast approach and hard impact. "I'm getting tired of people and Cylons banging on my boat."
A team of four, in pressure suits, entered onto the receiving deck, through the hole. They ripped and cut away the bent and twisted metal and the many layers of insulation panels. Anything from the wall went onto the deck in no organized manner. A shelving unit was close but wasn't in the way. It was ripped off the wall, anyway, and thrown down in pieces.
One of the crew kept letting his large, double-handed, hammer-drill spin itself into the deck plating, to stand it on end, so he didn't have to stoop low and pick it up. He punched twelve holes into the floor before finishing his work.
"Are you going to say something about their work?" asked John when he and Cru were standing alone. "We're trading one mess for another."
Cru shook his head. "We need them."
"We just need the hatch. We can do the rest."
Cru sighed. "I know."
The team set up and secured a sturdy pre-fabricated compression room in the remains of the old compression room. They left jagged metal sticking out here and there. While they did this, a second team positioned a new hatch and heavy gasket over the hole. Both pieces had extra-wide flanges that covered over all the damage. Once in place, the first crew secured them with heavy bracing. BREE'S TWIN reverberated as the maintenance rig locked itself over the new port and began driving massive self-tapping bolts through the hull wall. When finished, they created a circular pattern around the new hatch.
"Come on, Cru," said John, "you know that's not right"
Cru grit his teeth. John wasn't wrong. A ship's hull was made in many layers to protect against radiation, extreme cold and heat, and to absorb energy from high-speed impacts. Thick metal sleeves were used around bolts to make sure any pressure leaks didn't spread laterally into the layers and find ways to burst out. Sloppy repairs like these were shortcuts that good engineers would never take.
One of the team members stepped up to the window and connected with the ship's intercom. Cru could see the engineer through his visor. Cru gave an appreciative smile that was not returned.
"Open up your landing bay. We have to inspect all the hardware going in and out of the room - all the connectors and all the valves. Don't fill the room. Understand?"
"Understood…" Cru began, but the engineer had already disconnected from the intercom.
Cru grumbled. "Not friendly at all."
John agreed.
The second team finished its outside work and returned to the rig through an auxiliary port. The maintenance rig latched directly onto the new port and recovered the first team once they had finished their work. The maintenance rig backed away from the new port and swung around back, to the landing bay.
~~~~~/~~~~~
Cru had emptied the landing bay of air, yet again, and opened the outside door to let in the maintenance crew. They took their time staging gear and at last, signaled to close up and pressurize the room.
"I'm Richard Cru, Captain of Bree's Twin. This is John Destre, my Second."
"Colfax," replied the maintenance crew leader as he removed his helmet. His voice was dry and lacked emotion. He handed Cru his helmet without looking at him. "Take this. Don't frak with it."
Cru and John exchanged glances as Cru took the helmet. He gave it a curious turn in his hands and set it on a nearby counter with no great care.
Colfax and eight of his team members removed their pressure gear. All of the team members had equipment with them. Colfax had a holstered handgun on his hip.
"Colfax, why the sidearm?" Cru faked a smile. "I promise you there are no Cylons aboard - anymore." He was disliking this crew, almost from the start. Humanity was on the brink of extinction and these people couldn't muster a compassionate note between the lot of them.
Colfax looked at Cru, said nothing, and pushed past him.
The rest of the team followed him forward. One stopped to look at Cru's welding gear.
"Perhaps you should join your team," said Cru as he gestured towards the others. "Now," he said with a tone that conveyed his mounting displeasure.
The maintenance crewman gave a derisive snort and proceeded after his team.
~~~~~/~~~~~
Despite their sour demeanor, the team was efficient. They crawled around through the confined spaces, they climbed up into the high rafters, everywhere, looking for stress fractures and breaks. They replaced fittings and valves - anything that looked suspect.
With a nod from Colfax, Cru started filling the receiving deck with air, slowly, to allow for flexing. The team watched their monitors and gages as pressure built. One of the engineers insisted on taking over the controls. It was difficult to disagree with him since it was the engineers who were in the room and would suffer from a mistake or failure.
"It'll be good to have the room back," said Cru to the engineer. " We've been crawling underneath all this time."
The engineer, his name was Malek, did not look up from the monitor. "How 'bout you tell it to someone who cares."
Cru frowned and drew a long even breath.
John was back on the bridge. Cru and Malek were on the forward side of the receiving deck, behind the separating wall. Cru watched Malek work through the controls. BREE'S TWIN had an operating system, not unlike so many thousands of other old ships. It was no surprise that Malek knew his way into the related menus for atmosphere, the gas mixes, and heating.
"You've done this before," said Cru, trying to make conversation.
"No shit," said Malek.
Cru sighed. Malek was no big deal. Colfax was no big deal. None of the engineer's personalities mattered to Cru. He needed their expertise and their labor and the parts they brought with them. He'd been treated worse by better people and in multiple languages. No big deal.
Still, it was getting old - really old. One learns early not to insult a captain on his ship.
Cru climbed down into the crawlspace beneath the gravity plates and came up aft where Evvie and her children had set up their rooms. Evvie was in the doorway of her cabin.
"Hello Mr. Cru," said Evvie in quiet acknowledgment of his arrival.
Evvie was wearing one of Cru's dress shirts - a light blue, button-up. She used a double knot at the bottom to pull in the extra fabric at her waist. She wore a pair of his good khakis, too, but she had opened up the seams on either side and restitched them to pull in closer at the hips. The work was done by hand using a traveler's "Sew-and-Go" sewing kit she had found in the store inventory. She rolled the legs up to just under her knees, to complete the look. The clothes were still very loose despite the modifications. Back on Caprica, and depending on the venue, she might have been an object of ridicule. Aboard BREE'S TWIN, and considering the state of things, she looked great.
"Mrs. Hawkins...," Cru began but stumbled. Her attire, made entirely from his clothes, had caught him off guard. He was pleasantly surprised at her creativity. Evvie was an attractive woman with a warming smile on the few occasions when it showed, and her standing before him, framed in a dark-metal doorway, was a stark contrast to the old and grey ship.
"Mr. Cru," she replied.
"Mrs, Hawkins, I'd like you and your children to stay hidden for now. These people know others are aboard, not just John and me. They're gruff and seem the sort who take what they want."
"Are we in danger?" asked Evvie. Her tone changed and she flashed a look of concern. She wasn't asking for herself; the children's safety was always foremost in her mind.
"No. I'd just prefer they do their job and move on - not give them cause to stay any longer than they have to. Where are the kids?"
"They are in their...rooms." It was Evvie's turn to stumble. It was too early to believe they had ownership over anything, including their lives. "I mean, the rooms - the rooms you let them use. I mean, not their rooms…I didn't mean to presume..."
"It's okay," said Cru. "Their part of the crew. It's their responsibility to take care of their rooms. But listen, I need you all to stay in them. Don't come out until these folks are gone."
Evvie nodded her understanding, and treaded down to the children, to alert them.
Cru watched her leave. Not only was she wearing his best shirt. He thought she had cut up his best pair of slacks, too.
Cru worked his way forward, back towards the receiving deck. He intended to check progress from the window of the aft door. Instead, He found one of the engineers, her name was Ehinger, carrying out a case of cheap ambrosia, a case of cigarettes, and a case of canned vegetables, all stacked in her arms.
"You can take the booze and the cigarettes," said Cru. "I need you to put the vegetables back." His voice was light and even as if correcting an accidental mistake.
"How about you get your ass out of my way," replied the engineer. She shifted the boxes in her arms, for a better hold, as if showing she had no intention of leaving without them.
"Is there a problem?" came a voice from behind Cru. It was Colfax, the team's leader.
"This woman needs to put my foodstuff back. You can have the-"
"Call it payment for services rendered," interrupted Ehinger. "Now get the frak out of my way."
Ehinger made ready to push past Cru but he stepped fully in her path.
"Payment for services rendered?" Cru's voice continued in a level tone. He had considered giving a case or two of the ambrosia for their effort - it was a small token for much-needed work. He'd have parted with the smokes, too, if they'd have asked - he didn't smoke. He didn't need them for anything other than the bartering opportunities they might bring. But the negotiations were now over. Cru was done with this team and their poor manners.
"No. You are mistaken," said Cru. "You are in the employ of the colonial fleet or flotilla or whatever they're calling this clusterfrak. This isn't about payment. This is about what we do to earn our place among the survivors. I'm a freighter captain. You're part of a maintenance team."
"T-Dog, get a load of this guy," said Ehinger to Colfax. "He thinks he's got a choice or something."
Colfax stepped into the room, past Cru. He stopped with his back to Cru and took a long moment to survey the shelves and barrels and stacked boxes. Cru watched him rest his hand on the grip of his holstered weapon.
"Ehinger, he's correct. You are mistaken." Colfax turned around to face Cru but he continued speaking to Ehinger. He stared at Cru hard. "Double it up. Have Victor give you a hand." He turned his full focus on Cru. "In fact, Mr. 'Crumb' or whatever your name is, If you're not careful, I'll empty the damn shelves."
Cru sighed and reached for his wallet.
Colfax responded. He unlatched the holster's catch, pushed down on the weapon, and the holster's spring-action pressed the pistol up into his palm. He drew the weapon up but not out of the holster. He needed only to make a point of using it if the need arose.
"Okay, big fella," growled Colfax. The two men were roughly equal in size. "How about you keep your hands where I can see them." He leaned forward eagerly, like a tavern-brawler anticipating the reward of busting heads.
Cru pulled out his wallet, anyway, opened it in front of him, and let it drop.
Colfax's eyes were drawn to the falling object.
In the next moment, Cru had hit Colfax in the throat with his fist. The stunned fellow stumbled backward and brought both hands up to his neck.
In one fluid motion, Cru withdrew Colfax's weapon from its holster as he passed low between Colfax and Ehinger. With his free hand, Cru grabbed a hold of the man's collar, from behind, and heaved him backward, to crash into the shelving. In the next moment, he spun in place, chambered a round, and leveled the pistol at Ehinger, while releasing the weapon's safety. All of this was done before Ehinger had taken a second full breath.
"Put it back," growled Cru as he gestured to the boxes, "right where you found them."
Ehinger gave a look over to Colfax, who was gasping for breath and turning bright red in the face. "Okay, buddy, let's take it easy."
"Oh, just shut it." Cru advanced a menacing step.
"Okay, okay, I'm putting them back," stammered Ehinger. "They were right here - right on these shelves. See? I'm putting them back."
Cru took a long controlling breath. It hissed through clenched teeth. "Look, I'll give you the booze," he said with a less-severe tone. "I'll give you the cigarettes." Cru took a step forward and pressed the barrel of the pistol into Ehinger's forehead.
Ehinger trembled. She was a tough one with the heavy equipment and the sweat and the grime, but this was a new experience for her. No one had ever put a loaded gun to her head.
"Leave the food or they'll take you and 'T-Dog' out of here in body-bags."
"Sounds good on that first part - I'll be honest, I'm not so fond of body-bags," said Ehinger. " No argument here."
Cru took a step back as Ehinger shifted the top-most box from her arms to a shelf. He bent low and picked up his wallet, all the while focusing on Ehinger. If she flexed a muscle in his direction, he was ready to shoot her dead and "T-Dog" Colfax for good measure. Humanity was in survival mode - and some people were better suited for it than others.
Colfax gurgled. "You will pay for this," he snarled. His voice was a heavy rasp but there was no mistaking his fury. "You have no place to hide in this whole frakking fleet. I'll-"
Boom! The shot rang out. The pistol in Cru's hand smoked. Ehinger jumped back with a gasp. The case of cigarettes fell to the deck. The ambrosia nearly followed.
"Hide?" growled Cru. "Not likely."
This ends Chapter 8. Please take a moment to leave a comment. I'm at ~30,000 words with some good comments/feedback, but still mostly free-falling on whether I'm connecting with readers or not. Constructive criticism is welcome. Too slow? Not enough action? heavy use of long sentences? Please let me know.