Responses to Earlier Comments:

War Sage had some concerns. I explain my thinking here. The fanfic continues below this section.

For this fanfic, I modeled the Colonial military like many militaries of earth, except with the inclusion of space travel. The Marines are a department of the Navy - they serve at navy bases and aboard navy ships. The US Marines have ships and other craft (okay, maybe just a couple ships). In this fanfic, the Colonial Marines did as well - just that Cru never commanded one.

In Chapter 1, I gave a short bio in which I stated "By the time he [Cru] started his third military tour, and after years of night school, additional studies, and fifteen months in Fleet Ops Schools Battalion, he was commanding big fleet tankers and freighters as a Marine Major and Acting Commander." This was meant to convey a long period of time in transitioning from forward operations to bridge officer.

Keithallen - Thanks for the comment. I've never been pushed home in a cart but I did have a fellow carry me about 100 yards on his back. His legs still kept him upright. Mine couldn't be trusted. :)

Chapter 11, Chess Pieces

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 cat is not a "furry claw-thing ", a sock is not a "foot cover", ketchup is not "catsup"...or maybe it is, etc.

"Anything that goes bump in the night, better have an invitation."

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

Colonial Fleet, BREE'S TWIN

A lot happened.

Galactica lost a pilot and recovered her. It had been hoped that the fleet was out of harm's way, well away from the Cylons, and that the pan-heads were a nightmare that needed to move swiftly into history and old memories. The arrival of a Cylon patrol and the battle between them and Lieutenant Thrace confirmed the nightmare wasn't over. The colonial refugees were being hunted.

Not long after, a suicide bomber tried to kill Commander Adama and Colonel Tigh. Both men survived. Word was sent out that the Cylons looked human. Pictures of two models, Doral and Leoben, were distributed to the fleet. A composite drawing of the Shelly Godfrey Six model was not authorized but leaked to the other ships as well.

John confided to Cru that he thought Evvie was a Cylon. "Or descended from cats," he said as a joke, "I haven't decided which". Evvie still had no shoes and trod lightly, always, without making a sound.

Some of the crops had sprouted. The dirt was going to be confiscated by someone in charge of agricultural efforts but this was delayed since the seeds were already planted. Instead, changes to lighting, humidity, and soil acidity were ordered by some dirt-doctor, somewhere. Daily progress reports were required. Evvie managed all of this dutifully. There were many seeds left over - these were taken. Other items were confiscated by "Officials" acting on the new government's behalf. The larger FTL drive spare parts were the first to go followed by items related to life support. Cru and John hid many items that could be used on BREE'S TWIN. Even with the sanctioned looting by the "government", they still had the largest inventory of odds and ends componentry in the fleet.

Much of the food stores were left alone. Inspectors concluded that provisions aboard BREE'S TWIN were sparse and in line with other ships. Fletcher had crawled into the deepest darkest places in the ship and stashed away many cases and cans and bottles and boxes of what Cru called their "Livelihood".

Evvie agreed to give up the shuttle that her husband had crash-landed in BREE'S TWIN's shuttle bay. John argued it was within Cru's rights to take ownership of the shuttle - all things considered. Evvie's husband had caused much damage with it including the grief his actions inflicted on Cru and particularly John. Instead, Cru argued that Evvie and the children were a part of the crew and that crew members, like John, had rights and property, including the shuttle. Either way, it was beyond Cru's and John's ability to repair and it took up room that was needed for other purposes. The agreement by Evvie was an inevitable conclusion, she had limited ability to say "no", but it helped establish her inclusion in the decision-making that affected both her and the children.

Cru used the damaged shuttle to mend the relationship between him and T-Dog Colfax. T-Dog had the ability to get it flying again. He and his team flew over and picked up the shuttle in the same hour it was offered. Evvie used the opportunity to swap for clothes that would fit her and her children. T-Dog managed several sets for each of them, and a pair of shoes for Evvie.

Evvie had radioed T-Dog without Cru's knowledge. She also worked T-Dog over for a spare industrial pipe-bender and an old stand-up drill press. These were several of many heavy items Cru used in the shop back on Caprica, of which he had stated he desperately needed. Evvie remembered the short list and managed two of the items.

"What's this?" asked Cru as two of T-Dog's men wheeled in the pipe-bender and drill press.

"Ask her," said T-Dog, looking past Cru.

Cru turned to see Evvie approach. In the corner of his eye, he saw T-Dog take off his hat.

"Mr. Colfax," said Evvie in a quiet voice. Her eyes were downcast as they often were.

"Ma'am," said T-Dog.

"I thank you for the items, sir. I hope the shuttle serves you well." Evvie looked small in front of the two big men. Still, there was a strong presence in the women, greater every day, with the responsibilities she took onto herself. Inventory and "the numbers" as Cru called the accounting work, were essential in cooperating with the fleet mandates. The crops were the hope of sustainable livelihood aboard BREE'S TWIN, and they were in no better hands than hers. Also, she was smart - smartest aboard ship - and Cru gave her the tedious tasks of preparing reports and providing them to the many new offices being created in the new government.

~~~~~/~~~~~

"Ma'am?" said Cru to T-Dog after Evvie left. "You don't seem like the type who takes off his hat and says 'Ma'am'." Cru had a scowl on his face. It was the kind of scowl a young man might give when a friend is acting goofy around his attractive sibling.

T-Dog shrugged. "I don't know. 'Ma'am' seemed appropriate. She's a good lady. And, a tough negotiator."

"Which is a good point - when did you have time for negotiations with the 'lady'?" A hint of puzzlement was added to Cru's scowl. He had noted the clothing T-Dog had brought over, so he knew they had talked. The pipe-bender and drill press were immensely valuable, even as valuable as the damaged but serviceable shuttle. The fleet was long away from the colonies and long away from Cru's opportunities to acquire the equipment. The negotiation between Evvie and T-Dog would have been much longer than a simple chat.

"She called right after you offered up the shuttle. We talked for twenty minutes - well, she mostly talked. I did what I could to not lose the whole rig to her."

"Evvie?" said Cru, with a look of disbelief. "Mrs. Hawkins?"

"Yeah, she's tough. I wondered if that was her, that quiet little woman who walked up, but yeah, that was her voice on the comm."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it," said Cru with a dismissive wave of the hand. "She's very quiet around here."

T-Dog shrugged. "So listen, Cru-" he started. His voice took an apologetic tone.

"Look," Cru interrupted. "I'm sorry about how our first meeting went down."

"Nope," said T-Dog. "That was on me and my crew. You were right. We need to earn our place among the survivors. You captain a freighter and I run a maintenance crew."

Cru nodded. "I'm still sorry about it." He gestured to the side of T-Dog's head, near his ear. Cru and T-Dog had a heated exchange of words. T-Dog bled but his wounds were superficial. "Looks like it's healing okay."

"This?" T-Dog tapped the wound lightly. "I've been hurt worse by less."

Cru nodded. Both men did heavy maintenance. Bleeding was part of the job.

"I know you just about shot my ear off, with my own gun, which I would like to have back," said T-Dog with a half-cracked smile, "and you tossed me down in front of my crew…"

Cru sensed the light sarcasm - biting, yes - but light sarcasm. "Well, when you put it that way…you'd think I hurt your feelings," he said with a cautious smile. T-Dog was setting up parley and attempting to dismiss the unpleasantries between them.

T-Dog gave a short laugh. "Only a little."

Cru wanted to move the conversation forward. He wasn't big on small talk with people he didn't know. "Okay, so what's up?"

T-Dog lowered his voice. "Look, you and I, we hit it off bad-" Cru started to interject but T-Dog kept going. "We did, but there are some things going on out there, and we gotta look past our differences. Let bygones be bygones."

T-Dog was choosing his words at a snail's pace. He was dancing around something.

"Okay, they're gone," said Cru. "What are you not saying, T-Dog?"

"You heard about the Astral Queen, right?"

"Yeah, the prison ship. Tom Zarek, the terrorist, did a hostage thing and was given control of the ship. I think awarding bad actors is a bad idea."

"I'm glad you said that," said T-Dog. "There's been some pressure on crews like mine, to organize."

"Like a union?" Cru was fine with unions. They got things done.

"No, like a gang or a mob. Strong-arming stuff. Organized…" T-Dog paused. "Like, organized crime."

"Gentlemen, will you take a drink?" Evvie appeared again without warning. Even with shoes on, the woman could sneak up on her own shadow. She held up a coffee pot, a bottle of abrosia, and two cups hooked on her fingers. "Coffee or the Knob 120?"

"Ummm…coffee, ma'am, if you would, please." T-Dog fumbled a little. "Today is a busy day - a lot of work." He smiled. It was awkward.

Evvie nodded her understanding, poured two cups, and handed one to each.

Cru would have chosen the ambrosia but there was probably some etiquette thing that required him to drink what his guest had chosen. Evvie would know that more than him.

Both men watched Evvie leave, as she wound her way around the equipment and exited through the back door.

"Tough negotiator?" said Cru. "Her?"

T-Dog nodded. "I could barely get a word in on her."

"Okay," said Cru "Not really what I'm seeing."

"Well, let me know if you want to trade her. I got a Quality Assurance Rep I'd let go of - he's a bit of a thorn."

Cru turned to T-Dog. "Tell me the captains aren't swapping their people around like trading cards."

"Cru, I was joking, you'd be a fool to let that one go, but yes, they are. These folks have no voice. They go where they are told. Families are broken up depending on skills or ability for brute labor. Those without skills or strength live in the pits of those ships out there." T-Dog waved his arm to indicate the whole fleet. "I've seen it because I do the maintenance."

"Well, I'm not trading people, but I confess, I could use a good machinist."

"You can't do the work yourself?" A machine shop was standard in most large freighters. Reasonable knowledge in the related skills was expected by at least a few members of the crew. T-Dog wasn't wrong to ask.

"I can, mostly, and so can John, but it's not our primaries. I need someone who lives and breathes machining coolant, someone who can reverse-engineer all these old fittings and connectors, and not take all day."

T-Dog nodded. "I can't give you any of my shop people, but really, you just need to hit up the big cruise-liners and ask around. You'll find dozens who fit that bill. I could watch for someone."

"I'd appreciate that," said Cru with a nod. "Okay then, so what about this 'Organization' thing? Do you think it's this Zarek-fellow? What do I need to know?"

"Right. Well, it's just a feeling, like chess pieces being placed on a chessboard. All the services are being wined and dined or strong-armed by some folks out of the Prometheus."

Cru shook his head slightly, indicating he knew nothing about the Prometheus.

T-Dog picked up on the cue. "It's a ship that's getting a name for itself. 'Trouble', if you take my meaning. Declining humanity if you ask me, but not like lack of food and water and the desperation that follows - more like the beginnings of depravity and vice - hard drugs, gambling, all that. But anyway, I'm getting pressure to do jobs, off the grid, and on the down-low. I've been 'visited' more than a couple times by some thugs from that boat and from the Astral Queen."

"For doing outside work?"

"Yeah, not a lot of us set up for that. Outside and inside, we gotta do it all. But you see, I work the jobs Colonial One sends me, which is more than I can keep up with. I've turned down these guys more than a lot and now, eight of my people have been beaten up over the last week and a half, ambushed, and some of my gear has been trashed."

"So, maybe someone's controlling the 'charity' work," said Cru. "Some captain has something broken, and can't get moved up on the government list. So instead, they call these Prometheus folks in for a 'favor'. Prometheus sends you in to get it done-"

"Not me," T-Dog interrupted, "but other crews - and it's not just the Prometheus, they're from the Astral Queen, too. Somebody is pulling the strings, if you take my meaning."

"Okay, and now that captain owes somebody some-'thing', a marker or a chit, for getting done what the president's people can't. Maybe this is a bid to centralize the working class under some new 'organization'? It's not a bad idea. They'd have leverage when ships start to break down. Whoever controls that, could be powerful, in time, if they do it right."

T-Dog nodded. "Maybe. I don't know. Like I said - chess pieces on a chessboard." T-Dog looked around again for anyone listening. His people were almost done with the equipment. "But listen, Old Girl Roslin doesn't allow favorites. I get the work orders. I do the work. No one jumps the line except as ordered. If I roll with these guys, even once and if I get caught, I'll catch hell from the new authority and lose certain privileges that others don't get, if you know what I mean."

"I do," replied Cru. It happened in colonial history - many times. When someone in control did the numbers and the numbers stated that there wasn't enough food, water, O2, or some other life-sustaining thing. The next set of numbers was often about which population segments were needed and which could be lost. "It means extra rations for essential workers."

T-Dog nodded. "Yeah, something like that."

Cru nodded as well, like a mutual understanding of what has been implied. "Okay, so what's your plan?"

"I don't know yet, but I'll figure it out," continued T-Dog. "My advice to you is to lock your access port and shut down the outside override to your landing bay. You have a keypad out there - I saw it. Disconnect it. Don't let anyone aboard without your knowing exactly why they're there. Also, the whole fleet's on old Caprica time, but these folks don't sleep. They have shuttles they move around in when it's quiet - I've seen them while out working long jobs. If something bumps your boat in the middle of the night, arm yourself and find out what did."

"T-Dog, this is a lot to take in. It's a bit more than me handing over a broken shuttle - it's good information and more than we agreed on-"

"Cru, the clothes and the shop gear is more than we agreed on, but I guess what I'm looking for here, is a friend, if you take my meaning. And I'm kinda thinking you should be, too. You're hauling tylium, and that makes you important. That makes you 'leverage' not unlike myself and my people. They're gonna 'wine and dine' you, too, if they haven't already."

"They haven't"

"Good. I feel like someone's gonna push heavily on me and soon."

"They already are."

"I mean, escalate. I need to know where the safe ground is, if you understand. A Major in the Marine Corps has to mean something, right?" T-Dog remembered Cru holding out his wallet with the military ID showing. If he had known Cru was connected to the military, there was much that he would have done differently, starting with a sizable portion of courtesy.

"It's still a secret. I'd like to keep it that way."

T-Dog nodded. "We're good there. But Cru, the day may come when you need to pull out that card again, your military ID. And as a backup, do have a sidearm with you." T-Dog paused. "Speaking of which…"

Cru nodded. "Yeah, it's yours. I'll get it."

"Cru, you think that's wise?" called John via a nearby intercom panel. He had a radio and was watching from a dark corner with his rifle trained on T-Dog.

T-Dog looked up and around in surprise. John was well hidden.

"Yeah, we're good, John. Stand down."

Cru retrieved T-Dog's pistol. The two men shook hands and not long after, T-Dog's maintenance rig, with Evvie's former shuttle locked down in its holding bay, moved on.

End of Chapter 11

Not a lot of action, but I had some of my own chess pieces to move into place. I'm well into the next chapter. I should have it posted in 2 weeks or so.