Worthy of Flight?

"Who are those guys?" said Cru. He and John watched two sleek crescent-shaped vehicles bank into a turn, at treetop height.

"No idea, boss," said John. "Maybe they're military."

The Cylon attack was unfolding. Complete surprise had been achieved. Cru's and John's lives are about to change starting in less than ten minutes.


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. Multiple FF authors have done great work in creating the details outside of canon. I will attempt to stay within those limits, to be a good neighbor so-to-speak, and to maintain fluidity in this genre.

Also note: I did not spend time making up names for common things; a soda is a soda, pop-tarts are pop-tarts, a pistol is a pistol, etc.


Caprica - Farm Region

Day of the Attack

"They're frakking Cylons, Cru!" shouted John as he crossed the shop floor at a run "They just hit Caprica City! The radio says they're hitting all the colonies - all the big cities are frakking toast!"

"Are we at war?" asked Cru. His voice was calm because Cru wasn't one to be ruffled easy. "I didn't get the memo."

"I'm serious, Cru. It's an extinction event. They nuked C-City, and Genova, and Delspar, all of them. Nelcomm network is down. The short wire is the only thing up and it's nothing but screaming people across all the freqs."

"What about the military, no one is gonna just walk in here-"

"The Cylons did, and they're doing it. People are saying the navy is getting hammered, destroyed."

Just then, a shock wave struck the shop. The building shook, windows rattled, and items fell from the shelves.

~~~~~/~~~~~

Richard Cru

Richard Cru, or just "Cru", had flying in his blood. His father was a Marine bridge officer and so was he. Cru did three tours, just like his father did. But unlike his father, he started first, in Human Asset Recovery and Forward Operations Re-Supply, HARFOR, which required Raptor piloting and advanced combat training.

In Cru's sixth year, he managed some risky, death-defying, and reckless heroics, for which he was decorated and meritoriously promoted. By the time he 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.

He loved the big ships and it was no surprise that he owned one in the civilian world. He was the owner-proprietor, pilot, and maintenance knuckle-dragger of an interplanetary-capable, surface-landing, heavy-freighter. It was as large as a ship could be and still land without gravity breaking something. The gray and black metal lugger was an early, century-plus model, rusted and pitted from bow to stern and long since past its prime, but the key detail was that Cru owned it. It was a huge, old, near-derelict ship that blocked the daylight when it passed overhead, belched thick smoke, and frightened young children. It wasn't quite the career turn Cru had hoped for, but it was a ship and it was his.

When Cru was young, he and his father had operated the only service station and convenience store for a hundred miles. The whole region was farmland, and they maintained and repaired many of the local vehicles. They also had access to a massive, miles wide, junkyard, or "boneyard", as some called it, of old scuttled vessels from which to pull parts. The wrecks weren't theirs, of course. The area had been a dumping ground for the military since long before the war. Later on, it was a destination for people trying to off-load useless vehicles. Most of the ships were picked clean by scavenger crews, but Richard and his dad knew what to look for and where to find it. They spent long hours digging out old converters, coils, condensers, and motivators, as well as computer equipment ranging from small to large and very old to semi-new.

Behind Cru's property and just north of where the ship boneyard started was an old tylium refinery. Rare tylium ore was present in the local fieldstone, which had to be crushed through multiple stages, separated out, and the ore washed with harsh chemicals. The process was time-consuming, had low yields, and not worth the effort for larger producers. Farming was the main staple for the region, but everyone had a small stone-crushing operation and traded powdered tylium ore for tylium fuel to keep their equipment running. Excess ore and fuel were documented and sent to Cru's old freighter. Cru had three of the ship's four holds available for storage, at a small fee. After five years, all three were nearly filled. The regional farmers settled on a buyer, and Cru and BREE'S TWIN, with proper paperwork filed, and with a few scheduled repairs, would be ready to make the run. They needed only to set the date.

~~~~~/~~~~~

The shock wave hit like a heavy surface land-tremor - a slight vibration to announce its arrival, followed by severe shaking. Cru and John looked around them and exchanged glances as a great rumbling thunder rolled in from the north. Cru and John crossed to a window. The distant horizon was lit up brighter than a sunrise.

"I bet that's the transfer hub at Pella-Alabaine," said John as he pointed. "That's a hundred and twenty miles away."

"They nuked it...," added Cru as he turned away from the blinding light. "Pella-Alabaine isn't military."

John nodded in agreement. "Neither is Caprica City, Cru, and they lit it up like a fifty-mile-high torch."

"Where's Lita in all of this?" asked Cru. "She's not in C-City, right?"

"No, she was in the burbs. I spoke to her earlier," said John. "She was flying out a shuttle with her kid, Kevin - they're meeting with her folks."

"But she's out of that region, right? You said Caprica City was nuked."

"Right. She should be out by Loakney near 88, by now. That's three hundred miles away from downtown."

Cru put his hand to his chin and massaged the beard stubble as he stared blankly in thought.

"Cru? Whatta we do?"

Cru gave a long pause before he spoke. "Get hold of Lita. We leave as soon as we can. Have her meet us at the Timboku memorial out in star-side. You know where it's at, right?"

"Yeah, the war memorial. It's about an hour and a half out. They built it when I was a kid." replied John. "Your dad served on the Timboku. It was a Battlestar."

"They did. He did. It was. My dad said he was lucky that day. Let's hope we have some of that luck here, forty years later."

Cru's father, Ernestine, was a young ensign aboard the Battlestar Timboku at the start of the Cylon war. It was the first galaxy-class Battlestar lost in the war. There were only two survivors, Ernestine Cru had been one of them.

"We're going to run for it, then?" John thumbed towards BREE'S TWIN. "Are we taking the old girl?"

"Yeah," said Cru in his distracted thought.

"To where? I mean after the memorial."

"Just out, I guess - until we figure out the details. Is it really the Cylons? Are all the colonies under attack? Is our navy really losing against them?" Cru shook his head. "That can't be. It just can't. I don't know. Maybe they're making a stand somewhere. Wherever it is, we want to be on the other side of it."

"Okay, then what about Lita? Are we going to open the bay door in-flight? Star-side? Because you know the docking port won't hold a seal."

"We are. I do. It won't."

"So, Lita needs a shuttle that will fit in the bay, alongside ours?"

Cru looked up from his thinking and frowned. The shuttle bay was the size of a two-vehicle garage, except many of Cru's tools and service equipment were in there. A broken-down, two-seat, point-to-point shuttlecraft was pushed off to the side. A small tractor that doubled as a shovel scoop and light forklift was parked there for easy access. The tractor could be moved deeper into the ship, but even so, only a small craft could fit in the remaining space, next to the old shuttle. "John…"

"I know, I know.," said John. "It needs to be small. That won't be a problem. They can take her parents'. I'm just thinking out loud, boss."

Cru nodded. "Okay, it's too late to get your gear. Get the ship prepped. See if you can reach Lita. Tell her the plan. I'll be right behind you."

"Cru, wait," said John as Cru turned.

"Yeah?"

"What about everyone else? All these people, the farmers. We know all of them."

Cru paused again.

"Are we just going to leave them?" asked John.

"Okay," said Cru after a moment longer. "There are plenty of off-planet ships around here but if anyone shows up before we leave, we'll take them. Otherwise, they're going to need to hide, maybe head into the mountains. I don't know. Whatever it takes."

John nodded his agreement. "Okay."

Cru turned again and ran towards the service station.

"Hey Cru," shouted John, "I got two guns with me - a pistol and my good rifle. What about those?"

John knew guns. He had many. He competed locally in shooting events, was a hunter to supplement meals, and an avid enthusiast. Some of Cru's early gun knowledge, long before the military, came from breaking down and cleaning weapons with John.

"Bring them," called Cru over his shoulder.

~~~~~/~~~~~

Cru pushed his way into the shop, grabbed up a large empty box, and tossed in some hand tools he might need, a box of fuses, some meters and scopes, a handheld shortwave receiver, a small wire soldering station, three rolls of duct tape, and a large handful of long and short patch cables. He walked quickly through the convenience store section, which was part of the building. Everything sold in the store was also stock inventory in boxes and barrels back on the ship, which included the canned and boxed foods, soft drinks, water, juices, snacks, candy, cigars and cigarettes, alcohol, first aid, healthcare, and toiletries. Still, he filled the rest of the box with whatever food items would fit. Just as he was walking out, he had a thought that stopped him short. The garden seed display was right there in front of him - corn, squash, carrots, beans, peas, all of it. He didn't have any of those aboard the TWIN.

"Gods help us if we need these."

He set the whole box display of seeds with vegetables, common spices, specialty seeds, and flowers onto the box he was carrying, pushed through the door, and ran as fast as he could to the waiting ship. Halfway there, he heard John fire up the engines. They made a lot of smoke.

Two more bright flashes lit up the far horizon. The cities of Dorber and Beluth were incinerating under rising mushroom-shaped fireballs.

John met Cru as he was running up the gangway. He could not help but notice the seeds display.

"How long are we going to be out there?" said John. He attempted a bit of nervous sarcasm, but his question rang with truth. Seeds take weeks to grow and can take more than a month to bear anything useful.

Two Cylon raiders zoomed by overhead on a straight course towards Dormer City, in the south. Both men looked up and watched the vessels for a short while. They glinted bright and cut through the sky with their sharp airstream lines. Both men knew Dormer City was home to four million people. Those people would be dead in less than ten minutes.

"I don't know," said Cru at last, "but I have a new plan."

"Let's hear it," said John.

"First I need you to hook up the water and turn it on full. Just leave it going. Then, I need you to go back and scoop up as much dirt as you can, up into the ship. Don't be neat, just push it in."

"A shuttle has to land there," said John. "What about Lita? And her son? We can't leave them."

"Did you reach her yet?"

"I messaged her digitally over the wire. It says it delivered, but she hasn't responded yet."

"Okay, we'll take that as a Yes. When you are done with the dirt, leave the tractor in the bay. On the journey out, we'll move as much as we can inside, including the gear. Then we move the tractor into Tank Four. When we are out, star-side, and meet up with Lita, we open the bay door and pull her in with the boom."

John stood in thought as he absorbed the new plan.

"John, are we good? I need you to hurry on this. We need the water. We need the dirt."

John nodded his head. "We're good, boss."

Cru set down the boxes and headed for the ship's bridge. The engines were old and needed to be warmer before lift-off.

Cru spent long minutes running through what was left of the pre-flight checklist while John bulldozed large swaths of dirt up into the landing bay. Cru finished the prep with all the most critical "ready" lights lit. The "Old Girl" was an old ship, but Cru had kept it maintained well. Or so he thought.

"Cru, we have company," said John over the intercom.

Cru snapped up the mic, "Cylons?"

"Gods no, some people are running over from the factory. More than a dozen."

"How close are they? We can't wait."

"Maybe halfway here? Are we going to take them?"

"If they want to go. We have some room."

John paused. "We have some room, only. We're loaded to the gills with your crap and a whole lot of dirt. Oh, and I put the word out. We might have others show up, too."

"There are plenty of open spaces left but we'll need to rig up a lotta life support. Leave the ramp down."

"Okay, Cru."

Cru tapped the gauge indicating levels in the water reservoir. The hose was an over-sized hook-up and in the space of four minutes, almost three thousand gallons had been on-boarded into an eight thousand gallon tank for a total of forty-five hundred gallons.

"John, shut off the water. We have to go."

"Right, boss"

Cru began a throttle up as a final test of the engines. BREE'S TWIN had four thrusters; two bow lifts and the two stern main thrusters that were deflected downward during takeoffs and landings. All four thrusters began to cough. The portside lift sputtered. Cru made adjustments in an attempt to level the thrust and keep the portside lift lit.

"John, where are you?" shouted Cru.

"Cru, the water is off. I'm back aboard."

"Then, hold tight - this is gonna be rough!" shouted Cru as he punched the ignition button. The portside lift thruster roared back to life with a loud boom. Unburned fuel had gathered in the bell nozzle. It exploded and the resultant fireball rolled out from under the ship and up in front of the windows. The ship rocked back on its landing gear.

"Wow! That's not good," said Cru out loud.

There was no waiting for others. The engines were misfiring. Another back-fire of unburned fuel could ground them indefinitely.

Cru pegged the engines to full thrust in an effort to get them going again. The ship, for all of its size, jumped from its mooring, causing loud groaning from the superstructure. The old ships had big, brawny engines that were terribly inefficient in general operation but scary powerful when given full-throttle. The ship bobbled as it rose. Cru angled it Skyward, which settled the flight. BREE'S TWIN battled the strain. The ship rattled, boxes tipped, and drums rolled.

The blast of the engines scorched and burned everything below them. The force sent the factory workers flying backward more than a hundred feet. There were plenty of reasons why big ships like BREE'S TWIN didn't come down to the surface. Other than their sheer size, their landings and take-offs could be devastating to anything or anyone below them.

John fell to his knees as the ship pitched upward but scrambled back to his feet in time to avoid shifting and sliding cargo. He retracted the ramp and had the bay door closing before anything unsecured rolled or slid out.

"John, did we get them?" asked Cru over the intercom. "Did we get anyone else?" He knew there hadn't been enough time for the workers to cross the full distance from the factory, but he had to ask.

"No, Cru, they're gone."

"That's going to be a tough conversation when this is all over," replied Cru. "lot's of angry folks to come back to."

"Right, because we tossed them like ragdolls, getting off the ground."

"Yep."

"And because we're running off with two million gallons of their fuel."

"There's that, too," said Cru, "and all the powdered ore."

"They might get over it, in time."

"Maybe."


This ends Chapter 1

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