Responses to Earlier Comments:

Hi War Sage - thanks for your comments and your thoughts in direct messaging. Funny you should mention his military background being exposed...

Chronus1326 - Thanks for the comments, per usual!

Hacalt300 - Thanks for having a look. You're welcome to post your thoughts. War Sage has a bit of a crystal ball going. I've got some things in the works that I think Chronus1326 might appreciate.

Chapter 12, For want of a Machinist

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", a Klingon is not a "Turtle-shell Head Dude"

"I've had some heavy-handed things done to me by some really bad people, but nothing - and I mean nothing - hurts like a cracked rib - except maybe stepping on a Lego."

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

A little more housekeeping:

A thing or two about Emily, Fletcher, and Evvie

Emily continued to run the galley. She was doing well as ship's cook. Cru called her "Cookie" once and it stuck. After a while, she insisted on the nickname's use. Conversely, she said he looked like an old rock star, with his long hair and stubbled beard. She called him "Mick" because she remembered "Some old guy" somewhere, named Mick, singing something or other, on a stage, with a microphone.

Cookie liked creating things with her hands. She partnered up with whoever was working in the machine shop. She did small jobs and was learning to weld. Between meals, and working in the back shop area, Cookie could be found with Evvie, working the crops or doing the numbers.

Fletcher ran the bridge when both men were needed elsewhere, though with strict orders to touch nothing. He took after his sister and called Cru "Mick. Fletcher was given small maintenance jobs - often in hard-to-get-to places. He spent a lot of time hovering around Cru when not doing other work. He was handy to send for a tool or to watch a monitor while Cru or John made adjustments elsewhere in the ship. His nickname was "Squirrel-Boy" but he also answered to the name "Badger", for squeezing into the tough areas and going after work with passion and fervor.

In the early hours, one morning, Cru was making an urgent repair - the hot water heater, down by where the Hawkinses lived, wasn't heating, which would have been a crisis for young COokie, who showered every day and had thrown most water-conservation rules out the airlock. Evvie could not sleep and sat near Cru for a short while. She said very little except that she was struggling with the loss of her husband. She intimated that she appreciated Cru's company in the absence of her husband. The comment was awkward and she wished she had left it unspoken. But, Evvie was alone and missed adult conversation and friendship. Cru and John were year's long, boon companions. She was the outsider. She had needs, even if they were nothing more than the occasional conversation with someone older than their teens.

She also stated, in that moment of tired emotion, that she feared being separated from the children. She and they were not related by blood. The children were from her lost husband's previous marriage. Evvie regretted saying this too. She wanted to talk. She needed to talk. She needed to be social again. But, not this way. She left Cru for her room and avoided Cru for several days. Of the children, Cru had had his thoughts long before Evvie spoke of it. They were both good-looking kids, as an adult might say to another, but neither looked like Evvie - not even a little. Evvie was no doubt a Caprican woman. The children had a Virgon look to them. So did their father, as Cru recalled.

Fixing the Remaining Shuttle

Once the Hawkins' shuttle was out of the way, John wheeled out the smaller shuttle and had it working in short order. He and Cru, at different times, took it out to inspect BREE'S TWIN, which had taken damage on the first day of the attack. Heavy debris had struck with great force but the hull integrity remained sound. The new government authority tried to confiscate the small shuttle but Cru argued his case for keeping it - BREE'S TWIN was a large ship, almost the oldest in the fleet, and regular inspections were a must.

Cookie and Badger delighted in learning to fly the small craft, which John took charge of. John and Evvie spoke very little, but the kids were entertaining and they glommed onto John - him and his grandparent-like patience, but also with a little mischief mixed in. Cookie and Badger were too young to fly in the Caprican airspace, but out in the black, beyond the end of the worlds, and with very few things to hit into, who was to say 'No'? John had them doing 'fly-bys' past the bridge windows to annoy Cru. They attempted a visual tour of the Galactica, too close by most accounts, and were escorted away by two colonial vipers. John and Badger were squished together, side-by-side, in the back seat when Cookie, with John's encouragement, raced a shuttle from the EPHEME. They won by seven or eight lengths. Evvie was not pleased.

When the shuttle was locked onto the access port, off the receiving deck, the kids would sneak cans of soda pop and sit in there reading Cru's father's old Caprican Westerns. Badger had found more than a hundred paperback novels, boxed, and tucked away with Cru's old keepsakes.

~~~~~/~~~~~

On the subject of Tylium.

BREE'S TWIN carried a large supply of both tylium fuel and powdered ore. All of it was B-Grade fuel. Some called it "Dirt-Juice" or "Pauper's Lot". No more than three dozen ships could use it - most of those ships were older models with less sensitive needs, including Galactica.

Cru joined the fleet with two million gallons of liquid fuel. Twenty days later, he had just over six hundred thousand gallons left. He had one hundred and forty-four thousand tons of fine powder at the onset. Several ships in the fleet had refinery operations. After that same amount of time, twenty days, Cru was down to eighty-eight thousand tons.

The precious cargo in BREE'S TWIN was a boon for the fleet's survival. So many of the ships carried only enough fuel for the journeys they were on, plus a little for safety, at the time of the attack. Many were bone-dry within days of the escape. Despite Cru's extra tylium, estimates held that the first ships would run out within fifteen days.

~~~~~/~~~~~

The Machinist will have to wait

BT-01, Bree's Twin's Shuttlecraft, Outbound, Day 27

Two packs of cigarettes, a new 9-volt battery, a hairbrush, and a deck of playing cards purchased two thick blankets, a broken portable mixed-fuel cook-stove, and a case of twelve sealable jars with lids. Evvie asked John about the cook-stove - John was certain he could fix it. The jars could be used for canning - a means of preserving foods for long periods of time. Evvie hoped for successful crops and a way to store the excess without using outer hull temperatures and the vacuum of space to preserve them.

Evvie coordinated the trade ahead of a trip Cru was making to the PYXIS, a passenger liner with many hundreds of civilians. He needed a machinist. Evvie needed a test of her fledgling trade business. She asked to go with. Cru could think of no reason she shouldn't.

BREE'S TWIN's shuttle, BT-01, was two-thirds the length of a raptor, less tall, and far less broad. Two occupants could sit comfortably, but moving around the small cabin required bending at the waist. It had two seats, one behind the other. The seats were bench-style, somewhat roomy, and open on one side for access. Entry was made by raising the long canopy and stepping in, or up through the round portal access on the floor, behind the back seat. The shuttle had a 3x3x5 trunk for cargo and gear. The ship was streamlined with functioning wings for use in atmospheres.

Evvie sat in the seat behind Cru. She was silent. It was curious to Cru that she could have a full conversation with T-Dog and not with him.

"Who are we meeting?" asked Cru? He needed to say something. The silence was awkward.

"A man named Hyrannis," replied Evvie. "He's a Picon. He's promoting a barter system."

"For food?"

"Not this trip…and perhaps not at all. I worry about anyone knowing, or suspecting we have food or medicines. We should not let on that we have extra of both."

Cru nodded his head. "Understood."

"For now, it's all secondary items," continued Evvie, "blankets, flashlights, small electronics, playing cards. Even books - especially books."

Cru nodded. "It makes sense. There are a whole lot of people with nothing to do."

Evvie nodded back.

"Mr. Cru, who are you meeting, if I may ask?"

"You're welcome to ask, Mrs. Hawkins, always," said Cru with a light chuckle. "T-Dog said a machinist-fellow named 'Brian Tanner' asked to join his crew but T-Dog couldn't take him on."

"But you can, this is what you discussed with Mr. Colfax?"

"It is."

"Did Mr. Colfax give an opinion of Mr. Tanner?"

"He did not. He wasn't with his crew when Tanner approached them. It was relayed back to him. His people knew he was looking for one - I was looking for one."

"Does he have a family?"

"Tanner?" Cru turned in his seat and looked back at Evvie. This was the kind of discussion T-Dog spoke of when he had talked to Evvie. Her thoughts were well-organized, focused, and worked towards a point. "I did not ask. That is a good point." Cru faced forward again. "I need three people - a machinist, an equipment technician, and someone for general maintenance. John and I are doing most of this, right now, with your son Badg…, that is, 'Fletcher', helping of course. We are letting a lot of standard maintenance go - preventive maintenance - while managing the problem work. Neglected preventive maintenance is the kind of thing that will find us adrift and stranded."

Evvie nodded her understanding. "It is okay that you call him 'Badger'. I call him this, too. He likes it." She smiled a little. "And 'Cookie' for Emily."

Cru smiled. "John or I could show them how to make nameplates with magnets for their doors - if you're okay with it."

"I bet they would like that." Evvie gave another light smile.

Cru nodded but was distracted. He paused in thought. "That is a really good point," he said again. "About Tanner having a family - I should have asked. We can't take others aboard who don't fit these jobs. Our life-support systems can manage only eight of us, as I think I have mentioned. So, we have to choose carefully."

~~~~~/~~~~~

PYXIS

The mass of humanity aboard the Pyxis was stifling. Hundreds of refugees crowded the landing docs and assailed all new arrivals with pleas for help, food, water, anything.

Cru had on a blue button-up shirt and a pair of good khaki slacks. The shirt had a breast pocket with a parts-distribution vendor logo over it. He carried a large backpack with Evvie's trade-goods. Evvie wore an outfit she had received from T-Dog; a below-the-knee skirt, navy blue, and matching blue and green blouse. Both Cru and Evvie looked like royalty among the PYXIS people, who wore the same clothes they had arrived in. The place wreaked of body odor and sweat and fear. When Cru and Evvie looked out, gaunt faces with sunken eyes looked back.

"Look at them," whispered Evvie into Cru's ear. "It's only been a month since the attack."

Cru nodded an acknowledgment. Starvation and dehydration act quickly when left unattended. Both of which, can bring out the worst in people. "Stay close."

Evvie pushed in alongside Cru as they worked their way through the crowd. He felt her gather a handful of his shirt and pull herself in tight. They found their way to a large open theater with a central stage and surrounding seats. The seats worked their way from the stage level up, at an angle. PYXIS was a passenger liner and this large circular room was an entertainment venue. Presently, it was home to more than ninety people including children. Evvie was to meet her new trading partner there.

There were many people. They used blankets over the seats to establish their living quarters, which were the token boundaries to all that they owned. Empty boxes, cans, and bottles littered the floor. Useless items, like a hand-held hair drier, a picture frame, a desk lamp, and a dog's playtoy, were heaped around the perimeter. Desperate people sifted through the refuse, looking for anything they could use. A small group of young children played as if oblivious to their predicament.

The room was mostly silent, with nothing but the hum of overhead lighting and a slight murmur of voices, when a shout rang out, "She's a Cylon!"

Everyone looked up, to see a haggard, sickly, woman pointing at Evvie.

~~~~~/~~~~~

Cru's first swing, as he stepped in front of Evvie, broke a jaw. Cru was a powerful man and trained to hit hard for effect. His second swing flattened a nose with a spray of blood. Knives and clubs and improvised weapons were present. Cru did what he was trained to do - except the part about having a weapon in a hostile environment. John's pistol was under the dashboard, back in the shuttle.

Evvie had been called out as a Cylon by a woman holding a drawing of the Godfrey Six model. It was an unauthorized drawing and Godfrey was a "suspected" cylon, only. The drawing was made by someone from Galactica and leaked to the press service. It lacked good detail. It was dangerous.

A mob formed instantly.

More than thirty men and women charged at them with more coming from behind. The planet-level horrors of annihilation were still fresh in the minds. Evvie could have looked like anyone, anyone at all, but someone pointing and accusing her of being a Cylon, was enough to set off a riot.

Cru pushed Evvie back to the wall behind them while fending off a man who attacked with a length of pipe. Others came at them with clubs and knives and fists. Cru was struck on the shoulder by a chair leg from the right and stabbed in the arm by a piece of metal sharpened into a point, from his left.

Cru continued to throw punches and block attacks. He got a hold of a large wrench that someone had swung at him. He brought it down, again and again on the people before him, but they did not relent. His brutal defense only solidified in their minds that he was either a Cylon himself or was protecting one. Somebody got in close enough to slash him across the chest with a long kitchen knife. Somebody was on the deck and had a death-grip hold on one of his legs. Evvie screamed as she was ripped out from behind Cru. Cru tried to get to her as people grabbed hold of him. Evvie was pulled down by a strong woman who landed savage blows to Evvie's face, while a tall man, standing, kicked Evvie in the ribs. Somebody struck Cru over the head, from behind, causing him to stagger. He turned and swung, but missed. It was over then, for both him and Evvie. People jumped on him like a loose ball in a heated Pyramid match. Cru was dragged down and knocked unconscious, shortly after. The last vision he remembered was the woman on top of Evvie, hitting her over and over.

~~~~~/~~~~~

"Let me see her," said Cru. He took a step forward. He nodded towards Evvie.

"Step back or I'll put you down," said the Marine Private First Class, or PFC. He raised his weapon and made ready to strike Cru in the face with the butt end.

Evvie was down on the deck, curled, with her legs pulled in tight to her chest. Her hands, like Cru's, were restrained behind her back. She buried what she could of her face, into her knees. Evvie let out quiet sobs mixed with moans of pain over her many injuries.

Cru and Evvie and the two marines were in a large holding cell. They were ringed in a heavy gauged, wire cage. The sliding entrance door was key-access, operated by a third marine outside the cage. All three marines were armed with rifles.

Cru could feel the thrum of large engines through the floor's early military-style deck plating. All the surfaces around him were worn from constant cleaning and polishing, which was something that kept junior crew members and junior marines busy. They were aboard the Galactica.

Neither Cru's nor Evvie's wounds were treated. They were allowed to bleed freely and soak into their garments. Cru's left eye was swollen shut. His shirt lay open where the knife had cut across. His chest, where it could be seen, had a long slice across it, exposing layers of flesh. He had bruises and cuts from being beaten with a multitude of weapons. Cru stood like an oak in front of the PFC. His body ached from the violence but he was trained to accept the pain, to live with it, and to not show it as a weakness in front of his adversary, even if that adversary was another marine.

"PFC, you've seen my ID. You know who I am." Cru's voice was low and even, like a simmering flame.

"That's enough. Step back or the PFC will put you down." The second marine stood to Cru's left. He was a Corporal. "...You frakking toaster-bitch."

Cru turned to the corporal. "A toaster-what?"

"You heard me," growled the corporal.

"Corporal, of the two of you, you are senior," said Cru. "When this is done, there will be a reckoning."

The corporal gave the PFC a nod. The PFC struck Cru with his rifle. Cru went down in a heap.

~~~~~/~~~~~

"Stand them up," said Commander Adama.

An ammonia capsule was passed under Cru's nose, waking him at once. Cru was dragged up to his feet. The same was done for Evvie.

Cru opened his one good eye to see Commander Adama, Colonel Tigh, the two marines, President Laura Roslin, and several members of her staff.

Commander Adama held Cru's military ID in one hand and an image of the Godfrey Cylon in the other. His gaze immediately fell on Evvie.

"Have her stand up straight," Adama said to the marine corporal.

The marine stepped behind Evvie, grabbed a large handful of her hair, and pulled her up tall. Evvie cried out in pain as she came up to her full height of five feet, four inches. Her eyes were swollen with heavy bruising. A cut on her forehead and one on her cheek left her face smeared with blood.

"Corporal, I swear…," growled Cru. His lips pulled taut across his gritted teeth. His hands and feet were shackled. He was without offense or defense. He had nothing but the promise of future retaliation.

Adama gave a wave to the corporal who released Evvie and stepped back.

Adama looked at Cru's ID and then at Cru. He looked at the drawing of Shelly Godfrey, the suspected Cylon, and at Evvie.

"Release them."

"Sir?" said the corporal. His face flushed with surprise.

"This man is known to me," said Adama with a dangerous voice, as he gestured to Cru. "And, she's seven inches shorter than the Godfrey woman."

"Sir, she looks like the picture," said the corporal. "Her face-"

Adama snapped at the corporal. "Marine, her face looks like she was beaten with a pipe." Adama continued but in a more subdued voice. "The Cylons make copies - exact copies. This woman was attacked because of a drawing, not because she was a Cylon." Adama held up the drawing but it faced the president. "Release them."

"Yes, sir," said the marine corporal and PFC in unison.

"Commander…?" said Roslin. The tone of her voice suggested she didn't agree with him.

The corporal hesitated.

"Do it," growled Adama.

The Marine PFC unshackled Cru from behind. His eyes were downcast and he was careful to avoid meeting Cru's eyes with his. The corporal unshackled Evvie.

Adama caught up Cru's eyes with his. Two very powerful men, both in their own way, stared at each other for a brief moment. Adama showed control. In this situation - in this very 'military' situation, he was the boss and he was the king. He was the leader and his simple glance conveyed this. Conversely, Cru's look was one of simmering anger held in check. The PFC and the corporal were callous and they were indifferent, not to him, it didn't matter what they were to him - well, it did matter and there would be hell to pay - but it was about Evvie and the way she was left curled up on the floor, beaten, bleeding, and in tears, at their feet. They were both 'Conduct unbecoming of a Marine', and if given the opportunity, Cru would see they were held accountable for it.

Evvie shuffled to the side without looking up. "Mr. Cru…" she said softly with a quivering voice.

Cru reached an arm around her and pulled her in. She tucked into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"You know this man?" said Tigh to Adama. He was moved by the two of them, in their state, brutally beaten but standing - in a way, defiant. Strong. Tigh respected that.

Adama gave Cru's military ID to Tigh, to return it to Cru. Tigh was closest to him. Tigh looked at both sides of the ID.

"I do," said Adama. "He was a pilot and bridge officer, years back."

Tigh looked at the ID again before handing it to Cru. "A marine bridge officer - can't be too many of those."

"I expect he's the last one."

Tigh acknowledged the point made. With less than 48,000 survivors, there was likely the "last one" of a great many vocations. "He should be in the CIC," said Tigh.

"With all due respect, Colonel…Commander," Cru gave an acknowledging nod to each. "I'm going to take Mrs. Hawkins back to my ship and we're going to sort through some things."

Adama peered at Cru for a long hard moment but didn't respond to him. "Corporal, take them to the medic, find them a change of clothes, and see them shuttled off to wherever the Major wishes." Adama used Cru's rank. It unsettled Cru because it placed him squarely within the confines of military authority.

"Yes, sir," said the Corporal.

President Roslin took several steps forward. "Mr…" She paused then turned to the others, "I don't know their names."

"This is Richard Cru, a Major in the Colonial Marines," said Adama gesturing without looking up. "He captains the Tylium freighter, Bree's Twin." He turned to Evvie. "This is Evelyn Hawkins, crewmember..." He left the sentence open-ended and paused so that Cru was compelled to add the rest.

"We have a small crew," said Cru. "She is the ship's cargo-master, inventory, botanist, and accountant."

Laura paused. "Yes," she said at last, with her President Roslin smile. "Yes, of course. Bree's Twin." She remembered Cru's name from a list of civilian ships' captains. She remembered the Ship's Captain who had the wherewithal to grab a display of garden seed packets on his way off-planet, large scoops of soil, and was currently growing crops. The captains, like Cru, were the first level of order in the fledgling government. As the government coalesced, these Captains still held positions of authority, they argued, they disagreed, and they voted. Conversely, they were held responsible and accountable for their people, Evvie included.

As for Roslin, Cru remembered her smile, her red hair, and her diplomatic poise. She was the Education Undersecretary at the time. He shuttled her around in a colonial raptor, for eight months, more than fifteen years earlier.

"Major Cru and Mrs. Hawkins," she noted a wedding ring on Evvie's finger. "It is with the utmost…" her voice trailed off as her mind raced. "I'm sorry, is that 'Cru' spelled, C-r-u?" She remembered his name from the lists, but it was spelled 'C-r-e-w'.

"Yes, ma'am, it is." Cru smiled inwardly - a little. His name was written in capital letters on the back of his raptor helmet all those years ago. She saw it every day as he ferried her and her staff about. And now, the president recognized him. She recognized his name anyway. His face, in its current state, was in no shape to be recognized by anyone.

Roslin paused for only a moment. "Major Cru and Mrs. Hawkins, it is with the utmost sincerity that I apologize for what has happened today. I assure both of you…"

Cru would have liked to have listened to the president's short speech, but he needed to get Evvie away, with some level of urgency. She held onto him with her arms wrapped tight. Her hands were clasped together right where he was sure he had a cracked rib. There was a desperate voice, deep in a dark room of his mind, that was screaming in pain. The president might have been giving a profound apology - sincere or otherwise - but Evvie and her clasped hands were more than distracting.

End of Chapter 12!

Some vision notes (what I was thinking at the time)

Yes, of course, the "Mick" reference is for Mick Jagger. (No, Cru is not Mick Jagger - it's just a nickname - like "All Along the Watchtower" is just a song)

Cookie and Badger (the kids) have a lot of potential but they are not the focus. I might write some shorts on those two soon.

I mentioned a dog's playtoy. The dog was cooked and served up, two weeks after the escape.

The woman who beat on Evvie was an Olympian and Gemenon's version of an MMA wrestler. She could hit as hard as Cru (or harder). Evvie was a punching bag.

Cru didn't bring a weapon onto the PYXIS. Radio chatter never let on that the human condition had degraded so much. He left the pistol in the shuttle in case he was searched, but he also truly did not believe there was a danger he couldn't manage toe-to-toe. Wrong...

Tylium is mildly radioactive. So while there is room opening up, I don't think I can use the space for people. Lords of Canon - I'm all ears if you have some thoughts. Edit. I misunderstood an episode. Thank you Chronus1326 for the clarification.