Ron Moore reimagined Glen A. Larson's original idea; but then again, most people who would be reading this already know that. My use is in no way meant to challenge any established copyrights. This piece is not intended for any profit on the part of the writer, nor is it meant to detract from the commercial viability of the aforementioned or any other copyright. Any similarity to any events or persons, either real or fictional, is unintended.
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V – The Final Calm Before the Storm"Of course, only now, after half the pilots on the Galactica have fallen to my superior skills, does our fearless C.A.G. finally enter the fray," Starbuck said with a smile, looking down at Apollo from the hatch of a Viper that had been too heavily damaged to be put back into service. "Hoping I'm a little tired, that I've lost my edge?"
"So it's true," Apollo commented, smiling up at Starbuck and then glancing around at the rest of his pilots. "A working simulator."
"Well, sort of," Starbuck answered. "Doc Drake did the best he could. The simulation computer works as well as the one back at the Academy, and the link between the two simulators seems just fine, no matter what Hot Dog might say about the computer making him seem like he's reacting slower than he really is," she joked, casting a sideways glance at the best of the new Viper pilots. Hot Dog was shaking his head as he climbed down from the cockpit of a second banged-up Viper, its cockpit systems torn out and replaced by a flight simulation computer and viewscreen. "Still, the frame is stuck in place, so there's no sense of movement, and I think Kat must have thrown up in here or something the first time she saw a cylon raider, because there's a bit of a funky smell from before it was turned into scrap."
"I did not," Kat protested.
"It was a hangover, not a cylon raider," Hot Dog joked. Kat could only shrug her shoulders at that.
"So we can train new pilots without starting them in the cockpit of a real Viper," Apollo said. "Good idea. And much safer. Just wish someone would have told me."
"And ruin the surprise?" Starbuck asked. "Where would the fun have been in that? Besides, this gives us far more than just a new feature for flight school, Apollo – this gives us a chance to do combat training. True, we get none of the G-forces we got at the simulators at the Academy, and there're only two simulators, so we can't do squadron training, but for what we have to work with, I think this is great."
"It's not bad," Apollo admitted, running his hand along the cracked fiberglass frame of the simulator Starbuck was sitting in. "In fact, it's pretty damn good. You said Dr. Drake did this?"
"He's an engineer," Starbuck answered with a shrug. "Isn't that what his type are supposed to do?"
"I suppose so." Apollo glanced at the other pilots and noted that not only were they all looking right back at him, none of them had climbed into the other simulator's cockpit. He could tell that they expected him to get in and challenge Starbuck. It was impossible to hide his amusement at that. "So you said you've already beaten half the pilots?"
"Sure have."
"Well, I already saw Hot Dog's face, so I guess he didn't last long."
"Not long at all."
"Kingston?"
"Even less."
"Catman?"
"Ran away screaming like I was a junkyard dog."
"Joker?"
"Left here crying."
"Ares?"
"The first to fall. Can't believe he actually graduated from the Academy. Then again, seeing other examples from that particular class, he might have graduated with high honors." Starbuck gazed down with a wicked grin on her face. "Sir."
"Once again, Lieutenant, I think your ego's writing checks your body can't cash."
"You talk tough as badly as you fly," Starbuck teased.
"Okay, Lieutenant, let's see what you got," Apollo said, climbing into the other cockpit and closing the canopy. The inside was lined with a thin LCD screen with surprisingly good resolution. A galaxy's worth of stars, all just pinpoints of light on the black background of the screen, gave the illusion that he was actually adrift in space and not safe on Galactica's flight deck. Apollo put on the helmet and immediately heard Ares' voice over the com. "You heard what she said, Apollo?"
"Sure did."
"You're defending the honor of our entire class now. Don't screw up."
"That's your pep talk, Ares?" Starbuck asked. "Don't screw up? You can't do better than that?"
"Cut the chatter," Ares grumbled. "I'm starting the simulation now. You're operating in unexplored space in orbit around a gas giant with seventeen moons."
"Good simulation program," Apollo muttered as a bright orange planet appeared on-screen, dominating his vision. Small, rocky moons and a thin ring of ice and dust joined it moments later.
"It gets better," Ares said. "I'm adding in a few cylon raiders."
"How many is a few?" Apollo asked.
"That's a surprise," Ares answered. "Now don't screw up."
No sooner had Ares finished speaking than a red light started flashing, accompanied by a weapons lock warning. "What the hell?" Apollo cursed, slipping into a barrel roll and diving toward the planet. He hoped to take advantage of the planet's gravity, only realizing after he was committed to the tactic that he was unsure whether Drake's program would account for the planet's gravity well and its effect on maneuvering. Moments later, he realized the program would handle at least that much. The controls grew heavier, slightly sluggish, and blue weapons fire flickered across the screen. He knew he'd almost been hit, and he was finding it impossible to shake the raider. No matter what he tried, the raider stayed glued to him, its picture seemingly pasted to Apollo's tactical screen. Then, from behind a nearby moon, another contact appeared on his tail. Seconds later, the raider was gone.
"Got him, Apollo, you're clear," Starbuck said cheerily.
"I didn't need any help," Apollo assured her, changing course before his Viper clipped the planet's outer atmosphere. "I had him right where I wanted him."
"You mean right on your six, moments from a weapons lock?" Starbuck asked, not bothering to hide an amused chuckle. "I was only joking about your Academy class before, but jeez… what did they teach you guys?"
Apollo hit the thrusters and made for the nearest moon, only to find another raider appearing from behind it. It launched a missile, but Apollo dodged that attack and easily destroyed the cylon ship. In the intervening moments, Starbuck had disappeared.
"Hiding, Starbuck?"
"From you, Apollo? Never. I'm just choosing my moment is all."
"Oh, is that what you call it?"
"Timing's everything. You're the C.A.G., you should know all about timing. You deal with it all the time while you sit behind your desk, writing up C.A.P. schedules and fuel consumption reports."
"Don't forget the time I spend writing up official reprimands," Apollo answered. "Though I guess you've seen enough of them that I can be sure you won't forget."
Blue weapons fire appeared again, this time at the very edge of Apollo's line of sight. He turned in that direction and hit his thrusters, hoping to catch Starbuck while she was distracted with the cylon.
"Oh, frack," Starbuck yelled. "Hey, umm… Apollo… Captain C.A.G., sir, wanna hear a crazy idea?"
"What's that?" Apollo asked, dropping into a low orbit around a large, rocky moon, accelerating sharply and loving the fact that the simple simulator did not so much as hint at the G-forces he would be feeling in a real Viper. Just a few seconds, he thought, knowing Starbuck would be coming into his sights at any moment.
"How about we gang up on all these cylons, first?" Starbuck suggested.
"Huh?" Apollo's tactical screen showed the outline of a Viper coming straight at him, streaking along in a low orbit just as he was, but in the opposite direction – almost directly at him. "What the--"
"Frack!" Starbuck yelled. Apollo yanked back on the stick and flew up directly into the path of a cylon raider that had been trailing Starbuck. The screen went black, and Apollo knew that meant he was dead. Not that he needed to see the screen; Starbuck's taunts let him know well enough. "I rule!" she shouted gleefully.
"My screen says you're dead, too," Ares' voice commented. "Someone appears to have dove too sharply and torn her Viper in half."
"You never said this moon had any kind of atmosphere," Starbuck complained.
"Your scanners would have told you had you bothered to check," Ares chided. "Maybe they never mentioned that to your Academy class, but I remember hearing something about the importance of terrain while Apollo and I were learning to fly."
"Well, I still didn't buy it until after he did," Starbuck called out as she opened the canopy, looking down to see the pilots exchanging cubits to collect on – or pay off – bets.
"Well, 'She didn't die until after her opponent' will look very nice on your tombstone," Apollo joked as he climbed out of the other simulator. "Now what do you say we go and get some food?"
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"I'm going to have to get back soon, you know," Ellen Tigh commented, her right hand idly stroking the hair on Tom Zarek's chest.
"I know."
"And I don't know when I'll be able to get back here," she added, inching her body closer to his, enjoying the heat that was rolling off of his skin. It was something she missed with Saul; he just didn't seem to be as warm as he used to be. She needed a younger man for that warmth. "Shuttle traffic between ships has slowed to the point it's almost nonexistent. I won't be able to get over here for just a few hours at a time, knowing I won't be missed. The only way I got over here this time is because Saul and I had a fight. He practically begged me to go to Cloud Nine for a couple of days."
"Still think he's hiding something?"
"Him and Bill, both."
"And Roslin," Tom muttered. "First she canceled the assembly of the Quorum of Twelve, ostensibly because of an unspecified security concern. Then she uses the same vague, unspecified threat to shut down all nonessential shuttle traffic. I don't like it… they're all up to something."
Ellen sighed contentedly as she moved closer, half of her body now lying against Zarek. She had waited a long time to feel as if he trusted her, and now he was finally speaking freely in front of her. "You don't have any idea what it is?"
"I've heard a rumor," Tom admitted. "But it seemed a little farfetched, and I haven't seen anything to back it up. Then again…"
"Yes?"
"Well, let's just say I'm keeping my options open," Tom answered, disappointing her by not revealing everything he knew and planned. "I've put a few people in position to take advantage of the situation if the rumor is true."
"Just in case," Ellen surmised.
"Yeah, just in case."
"Roslin is sick, isn't she?" Ellen guessed. "She's finally becoming too debilitated to run the fleet. Not that she has any choice," Ellen thought out loud. "Her popularity makes her untouchable, unbeatable politically, but that power comes from being the object of a prophecy that mandates that she dies. Soon."
"Prophecies do tend to have a downside," Tom commented.
"Maybe they've all started to rethink their use of the prophecies," Ellen suggested, voicing a concern that she had ever since Roslin had claimed to be the leader spoken of in the Pythian prophecies.
"It's a little late for that," Zarek said, his voice punctuated with a wry, satisfied laugh. "Can't put the genie back in the bottle."
"Perhaps. So I guess now you only need to emerge as the Condemned Man," Ellen said with a grin, referring to the man Pythia had prophesied would rise to succeed the deceased leader. "And when the leader of the people succumbs to death, the Condemned Man will rise, and the people will forgive him for having opposed their lost Leader," Ellen recited.
"And the Condemned Man will achieve atonement, and he will present the people with a vision of their future," Zarek finished for her, "And the vision will deliver the people to Earth."
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"So this is where you slinked off to," Apollo commented with a thin smile, looking up at Ares. He was lying on his back on a scaffold, poring over the barrel of a quad turret on the ventral side of his ship.
"Figured Starbuck wouldn't sit idly by as people ribbed the two of you for that simulation," Ares said. "I knew I'd end up getting reminded about her beating me about a dozen times before the end of dinner. What really frosts my cookies is that when I was still flying, I coulda taken her no problem."
"You think so?"
"Well… not really," Ares replied with a grin that suddenly reminded Apollo of Starbuck. "But I think the computer in my simulator was slower than hers."
"Hot Dog did seem to agree with you."
"You didn't believe him either, did you?"
"Not so much." Lee let out a small laugh and started looking over Ares' ship. "Controls seemed fine to me." For the briefest moment, Apollo was touched by a sense of déjà vu – a smiling Ares making flimsy, farfetched excuses for losing a dogfight simulation against another supremely gifted female pilot. He had spent so many years trying to forget about Ares – and Athena – and now his old friend was back. And so were the memories.
"I assume you're here for the grand tour," Ares said with a gesture toward his ship, knocking Apollo out of his trip down memory lane.
"I got tired of your buddy Drake stalling me," Apollo explained. "There was always something that needed to be cleaned up, some dangerous circuit board that needed to be covered up for safety's sake."
"He doesn't like strangers paying too close attention to his baby," Ares responded. He climbed down from the scaffold and looked up, an unmistakable pride in his eye.
Apollo did not see all that much to be proud of, though he kept his mouth shut. The Chimera was small by a freighter's standards, the kind of ship he knew was favored by smugglers and pirates. Shipyards referred to the YT-1300 model as a stock light freighter and provided it with bland, generic parts that made it spaceworthy but wholly unremarkable. About seventy-five feet long and sixty feet at its widest point, vaguely oval in shape with a cylindrical cockpit attached to the front, Apollo had always thought the YT-1300 looked somewhat turtle-like. A turtle with anti-ship weaponry mounted on its back and stomach, he thought, allowing a slight grin to brighten his expression.
"Not what you expected me to be flying, is it?" Ares asked.
"Last time we spoke, you were still flying Vipers," Apollo answered. He was surprised how he suddenly realized, in that moment, how long it had been since he had spoken to someone who had once been one of his closest friends, and how much older Ares now seemed. It's been… Damn, it's been a long time, he reminded himself. "I remember shooting some of these things down… pirates that were using the remains of Troy as a base."
"Yeah, well… those pirates didn't have Drake outfitting them. You might not be here if they did."
"So what does this thing have?"
"The quad turret right there has four fire-linked KEW cannons," Ares said, pointing at the ventral weapons. "Basically twice the firepower of a standard Viper's twin KEW cannons."
"And you're about to tell me you scavenged those."
"There were lots of half-destroyed Vipers floating around out there."
"Uh-huh." Ares looked so sincere that for a moment – and only a moment – Apollo was tempted to believe that his old friend had not purchased the weaponry on the black market long before the cylons attacked. "Wasn't that cannon on the ventral side when you joined the fleet?"
"Good eye," Ares responded. "Yup. It's not only great for anti-ship combat, it makes a seriously bad-ass weapon for strafing ground-based targets. Well, unless it's on the ventral side, that is. Then it sucks, because the ship would have to fly inverted to get a shot on a ground-based target. So we switched them. Less chance of Drake hurling all over the controls this way."
"Uh-huh. Seems this new alignment also keeps that mystery weapon of yours out of clear view," Apollo pointed out.
"I never said there was only one advantage."
"So what's the other turret?"
"Purely experimental," Ares answered. "We've fired it a few times, so we know it won't blow us up if we use it, but it was only in test situations."
"Good to know," Apollo said with a slight nod. "But I still don't know what it is."
"It's Drake's pet project," Ares responded with a shrug. "I don't fully understand it myself. He calls it an ion cannon, though he says it's actually two separate weapons in one – an EMP and a static charge generator. It's designed to temporarily disable a ship, to short out its systems without blowing it up."
"That's the kind of thing a pirate would find valuable."
"Bounty hunters, too. Colonial government was never big on the dead-or-alive thing. Alive meant far bigger paydays and a small hill of paperwork instead of a mountain." Ares gestured Apollo to follow him as he began walking toward the front of the ship.
"So you're telling me your Dr. Drake went to all that trouble just to avoid paperwork?" Apollo asked dubiously.
"We hate paperwork, Apollo. We absolutely hate it. Besides, the ion cannon had an unexpected virtue."
"What's that."
"It completely fries the circuitry of cylon raiders," Ares said.
"What?"
"Figure'd that'd get your attention," Ares said. "We found out completely by accident, when we used a crippled raider in one of our tests. Drake's working on a mock-up for a larger version, something that could be used as an area-effect weapon of some sort. He wants to be able to disable a squadron at a time."
"Like they did with us."
"Of course, we'd need a warship to mount it on."
"So if and when he writes up his specs, you're gonna expect me to take it the commander on your behalf," Apollo guessed.
"Well, the Chimera is a fighter support craft, Apollo, and you do happen to be the C.A.G.," Ares pointed out. "I'm just following the proper chain of command."
"So long as you don't expect any special treatment from the commander just because he happens to be my father."
"Hey, he was enough of a bastard to make you the C.A.G.," Ares answered. "Father or not, I gotta figure he doesn't like you so much."
"Thanks for caring." Apollo couldn't help but smile at his old friend's sarcasm.
"That's what I'm here for, Apollo." The two men had reached the font of the ship, and Ares pointed up. "There're two more KEW cannons mounted above the cockpit," he said. "Those are controlled by the pilot."
"The ventral cannon isn't?"
"No. We need a separate gunner for that," Ares explained. "The tactical computer can handle it, but there're a lot of intricate, expensive, and frustratingly delicate robotics to install to control a cannon that size; it just isn't as cost effective as carrying an extra crewman. That's why your father… I'm sorry, the commander," Ares amended with a sly smile, "allowed us to keep our team together. I'm the pilot, and Rutger and Drake are the gunners."
"And I assume Drake works the ion cannon."
"Well, he is the one who built it. He's a little possessive. Gets jealous if anyone else handles it. Anyway, the last weapons we have are the concussion missiles," Ares said, pointing out four concealed launch tubes, two to the left of the cockpit, and two to the right. "There's also one tube that fires from the stern. Five tubes, payload of fifteen missiles."
"I assume they're standard Colonial Harpy III's," Apollo guessed.
"Wouldn't make much sense to custom design something when the Harpy is fairly available ordnance," Ares said. "We're down to six of them, though, in case you could grease the wheels for me and put in a request to the master at arms."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Fantastic."
"A couple of the pilots are planning a big card game tonight," Apollo said, remembering the ludicrous amount of time Ares had always spent with his fellow officers. "You know, in case you're interested."
"Maybe," Ares replied with a shrug. "As long as I know the Chimera is ready for action, first."
"Not like you to pass up a good time."
"Ain't nothing better than being out there, though," Ares commented with a smile.
"Huh?"
"Nothing."
"Hey, you're the one who said it."
"It's not something I can really explain," Ares responded with a shrug. "I tried to explain it to Drake, but he thought I was crazy."
"Explain what?"
"Well, thing is," Ares began hesitantly, "I… well, hear me out, okay? Let me finish before you decide I'm nuts."
"I already think you're nuts."
"Then I guess I have nothing to lose by shootin' off my mouth. See, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm almost happy that the cylons attacked," Ares said.
Apollo had no idea how to respond to that.
"It's not that I'm glad billions of people died, okay?" Ares continued hastily. "Don't think I'm saying that. It's just that I always wondered what it would feel like to be on the losing end of a hopeless cause, knowing every day I wake up that I'm living on borrowed time, that I won't have the luxury of dying of old age because some cylon is gonna take me out long before then. Epic, you know? I always liked those stories, growing up. Didn't always end well, but it was a hell of a ride."
"Nice, Ares," Apollo said. "Thanks for cheering me up."
"Think about it, though," Ares replied. "Just accept that you're gonna die out there, sooner or later, and I think it makes everything better. Since I accepted that, I've actually felt more alive than I ever have before. I'm not like the vast majority of the people who used to live in the Colonies, all of them worker bees who never really lived a single day of their lives. I'm a soldier championing a lost cause."
"A hero?"
"Only if I survive to the end," Ares said with a broad smile. "I remember being a kid and reading one of my favorite books. I began to wonder why the story was about the main character, why it couldn't instead have been about his best friend, an old mentor-type who was by his side most of the way. Then, about three quarters of the way through the book, the mentor died; then it was pretty obvious why the book wasn't about him. What pretty much separates the hero from the supporting characters is the simple detail that the hero survives to the end."
"And he wins, of course."
"Obviously," Ares agreed. "But in a war like the one we're in, winning means surviving. There's no in between with the cylons – either we win, or we die."
"Once again – not exactly cheering me up, Lieutenant."
"It could be worse," Ares said. "After all, you could be out here all alone. Instead, you got your old buddy, Ares. And I guess we might as well let Starbuck come along on our ride to greatness, too."
"I'm sure she'll be happy to hear that," Apollo responded, stifling a chuckle at the absurd thought that either one of them could stop Starbuck from 'coming along for the ride' if that's what she decided she wanted to do.
"So, Apollo… where was that card game, anyway?"
To be continued…………………………