Kara and Lee faced each other in front of the Priestess Elosha, ready to exchange their marriage vows in the sight of the gods. A hundred candles burned in Galactica's octagonal chapel. Despite the lack of overhead lights, the room glowed with orange light as candle flames reflected off grey metal surfaces. The hushed crowd of mostly pilots and family watched the couple join hands as tendrils of smoke swirled around the room. Someone had acquired sandalwood incense to burn in the chapel and the air smelled beautiful and light. It was an old Colonial tradition; according to legend, Zeus had burned sandalwood logs in celebration at his wedding feast to Hera.
"The words I'm about to speak are the most powerful in all the universe. They seal a union between this man and this woman, which is not only for now, but for all the eternities," Elosha spoke.
There was reverence in the air and a weight behind each word, following the same ancient sealing rite Bill and Laura went through seventeen years before. Kara insisted on adhering to traditions when marrying Lee; it symbolized not love of ceremony, but her desire to break with the previous timeline's experiences. A full ceremony in the daytime surrounded by friends was a way of taking their previous fate in hand and visibly making it different now. If New Caprica and a rushed marriage on a riverbank in the morning represented where Lee and Kara's relationship broke down, then this time they'd marry each other before even reaching the planet in a full ceremony with Elosha invoking the gods' blessing.
After Admiral Adama had escorted Kara up the small aisle to the altar, Lee gawked like a man bit by the tail end of a viper when he saw Kara dressed in a pale yellow dress. She'd cracked a smile in response and rolled her eyes before telling him to breathe. His heart hammered in his chest and he had nearly stumbled in surprise when Elosha stopped in front of the altar, having forgotten people were present. When the priestess began the ceremony, Kara and Lee felt a weight slip from their shoulders, relieved that the other was standing there and their marriage was happening.
Watching Kara and Lee exchange vows, Bill's arm encircled Laura's waist from where the proud couple watched. Laura let her head rest on her husband's shoulder, comfortable in the private setting and not feeling the greatest after the previous night of shenanigans. Evelyn snoozed in her wrap tied against her mother. Overprotective Laura had practically pounced on a stunned Bill to reclaim her daughter after a night apart. Trailing behind Laura had come Kara, the sight of whom caused Bill to do a double take at seeing the woman dressed up.
"Will I do?" Kara had teased him.
"Always, Kara," he'd smiled and kissed Kara's forehead, which was all it took to put the ace pilot into sniffles. Kara had blubbered out a swearing storm of irritation at not holding it together. She'd wondered if she'd ever do something that would forever cost her his fatherly affection.
Elosha turned to face Kara.
"Kara Serena Thrace, will you have this man to be your husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health in good times as well as in bad, and forsake all others, to be faithful to him with every fiber of your being?"
"With every fiber of my being."
She faced Lee next, who blushed under her scrutinous gaze. Beside him, Zak and Liam stood up straighter, eagerly anticipating their brother's part of the service. They kept quiet and well-behaved, and listened as the priestess spoke with a voice like warm honey.
"Leeland Joseph Adama, will you have this woman to be your wife? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health in good times as well as in bad, and forsake all others, to be faithful to her with every fiber of your being?"
"With every fiber of my being."
"There we go, another difference," Bill leaned over and whispered to Laura. "More proof, like Evie, Liam, Zak, and the thousands more survivors that things can be different." She hummed thoughtfully and forced herself to smile through the thoughts of New Caprica. Things can be different, she repeated to herself until the words rang in her mind like a deafening refrain. They looked at the newlyweds fondly, hoping they'd be happy.
"The attacks still happened. They've chased us through space again. New Caprica…"
"If we could have saved them all, then we would have. But the Cylons were determined and Adar was a moron. It was always about saving who we could. Sometimes saving just one more person, just one, can be enough," he murmured quietly to Laura who held her daughter just a little tighter. They watched Elosha raise her hands in blessing.
"As of this moment I declare you husband and wife in the sight of the gods. May those united before the gods never be divided," Elosha paused and took a deep breath. "So say we all."
"So say we all," they all echoed. Kara and Lee felt a comforting warmth spread through them, like day breaking over a field of darkness. They imagined the weight of this moment and their choice echoing out among the stars, shifting against their previous fate and forever tying them together.
…
Everyone understood that more time couldn't be allocated for celebration while the Fleet finished evacuating the smaller, more damaged ships and prepared for the jump to Fallback Omega. By lunchtime, Kara and Lee had joined the CAP around the Fleet, Bill commanded CIC, and Laura was on Colonial One trying to figure out how to look Billy in the eye ever again while enduring Tory's presence and listening to Wally complain. Such was the price of survival.
William Adama studied the star charts spread before him in CIC. Pinpricks representing stars were spaced throughout the darkly inked image described in detail where the Fleet was to jump—all familiar to Adama, who'd dutifully patrolled those skies for over a year. There his duty shifts had consisted of little more than staring at star charts and dreaming of cabins or the color red. Still, Adama refreshed his memory and marked strategic places on his darkly inked maps where their ships could jump if they needed to abandon Fallback Omega in a rush. Proper prior planning could prevent many an untimely death, and it was his job as their Admiral to bring back home as many as possible.
The routine noise of boots thumped along the deck, crewmen talked over their headsets, and equipment clattered to the floor. It all faded into a buzz that was the background noise of CIC. As the heart of a Battlestar, activity always bustled around CIC and Adama and two dozen personnel busied themselves as they kept his ship alive and running. A networked ship could run with a quarter of the crew, if it even needed that. Despite no blackdoor existing from Baltar's idiocy, the Cylons could still hack networked systems the old fashioned way. They cut through firewalls like someone might climb over a garden fence. Adama remembered stories from the First Cylon War: they turned life support offline, caused fuel tanks to explode, and triggered FTL drives to plunge them into the heart of a star. The danger clearly outweighed the good. But humans weren't always adept at making the hard choice over a quick and easy option.
His thoughts drifted to Laura. Years ago she'd surprised him by being able to make tough calls, and they'd weathered impossible choices together. Adama forced his thoughts away from humanity's failings and the coming elections, and instead glanced over an updated status report Gaeta had handed him. They were abandoning ten ships and several more were in critical condition, but there just wasn't space anywhere else to put the people onboard. They'd started the journey with 220 civilian ships. They'd be down to 201 after the jump. And only fifteen military ships, but it's better than Galactica standing alone as the last Battlestar, he thought. They needed a safe haven and repairs ASAP or they'd start losing more ships and people.
"Update on jump ETA?" Adama asked, looking over at Dee.
"Almost ready, sir. I estimate two hours until the Fleet is ready to jump."
"Damn civvies said they'd be ready two hours ago. Now they want two more? What the hell is taking them so long?!" Kelly grumbled loudly, having finished raking some hapless crewmen over the coals.
"Is that a rhetorical question, sir?" Gaeta asked in an overly polite manner, forcing Dee and several other officers to hide their snickers.
"I never ask rhetorical questions, Mr. Gaeta," Kelly snapped, as if trying to invoke the spirit of Saul Tigh. Adama missed Tigh as his XO, although he would never admit that tidbit of information without a drink first. After Tigh smoothed out the more jagged edges of his prickly personality, the two men complimented each other well. They'd formed a rhythm: Adama stood as the anchor of the ship and remained at the Command and Control Station while Tigh prowled around CIC every so often, looking to keep the troops in line.
"It takes time to move people and the abandoned ships are being stripped for salvage since supplies are hard to come by out here, sir. There are areas flooded with nebula gasses that need special suits to access. It's slowing operations," Gaeta explained more slowly than perhaps necessary.
"Maybe we should get the civvie ships on the line and tell them to hurry the frak up!" Kelly suggested, and Adama sighed and pulled off his glasses. The civilian ship captains answered to the President, the Quorum, and the Council of Ship's Captains. They answered to the military and Adama only when their interests overlapped.
"Should I get the President's office on the line?" Gaeta offered, already understanding that Adama wouldn't sanction calling up ships' captains unnecessarily. It would blur the lines between the offices of President and Admiral of the Fleet further.
"Well…" Kelly floundered a bit at being called on his suggestion.
"She's on the line," Dee's gentle voice spoke up from the communication station. Kelly's face paled as Dee waited a beat to inform them who'd called whom. Don't make suggestions you're unwilling to follow through on, Adama thought. Dee listened into the headset on her ear with a small frown. "The President requested a secure channel to speak to you, Admiral."
"Tigh had his style of command. You'll find your own in time," Adama advised Kelly before picking up his comm unit. He decided to set aside time to talk to his green XO about how the role didn't equate to acting as a blunt weapon. "Madame President."
"Admiral, we have a problem." Laura's voice came over the speaker, cracking from the nebula's interference. He still picked up on the notes of stress and fatigue in her voice. She informed him in her typical brusque efficiency about the discovery of a Cylon body. The model, a Simon, appeared to have committed suicide and the body discovered as one of the ships was being evacuated. She explained that members of the Demand Peace movement were being arrested by Fleet Security after trying to hide the body and were assumed to be responsible for harboring the enemy.
Bill sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We'll bring the body to Galactica. Have the arrestees shipped to Cain, she's a trained interrogator. She'll find out if they know about more Cylons in hiding."
"Bill, the Cylons only kill themselves for one reason."
"To resurrect. The reborn Cylon could lead the rest of them right to us," Bill covered the audio receiver of his comm and ordered the XO set Condition Two throughout the Fleet and launch alert fighters. If the Cylons arrived they'd meet one doozy of a fight. Satisfied that Kelly was carrying out his orders and informing the other Battlestars as well, Adama listened as Laura updated him further on their situation.
There was no emotion in her voice. Her tone held only restraint and fatigue at being forced to face yet another crisis. She spoke softly. "We're focused on evacuating the remaining people and will be ready to jump soon. At least, we've kept the location of New Cap… Fallback Omega top secret. However, when we get there we need to do another Fleet-wide search for hidden Cylons."
"I agree," he said. He dropped his voice lower, so no one in CIC could overhear him. "Laura, it's gonna be okay."
"I want to believe that. I do," she sighed. "I'll see you when this is over."
After Laura's call disconnected, the chatter drained out of CIC as the crew readied for incoming trouble. Everyone focused on their stations, kept speech to a minimum, and waited. Time crept by, slow and tedious as drops of water dripping from a tap. Everyone glanced at the clocks, watching the minutes tick by and wondered if the next would bring either jump-ready status or Cylons. The quiet before a battle was almost as nerve-racking as the alarms, screams, and chaos of combat. The sense of dark expectation hung in the air, mixing with the smell of recycled O2, Colonial military wool, metal, and sweat. By now their senses were dulled to the grungy, tangy Battlestar smell that they breathed in and out while they waited.
Pilots' reports cracked over the CIC speakers as the CAP checked-in sector by sector and reported no sign of Cylon ambush. The comm traffic was even devoid of Starbuck's typical one-liners as she mentally tried to prepare herself to shoot Cylons and to see the planet that haunted her nightmares.
Adama gazed at the DRADIS screen, still as a statue of carved marble. He tried to compartmentalize his fear that this time someone wouldn't make it back to the barn. His eyes followed Starbuck's and Apollo's viper icons across the screen and cold dread snuck into a corner of his mind. When will our luck run out, he wondered. To be fair, their fates hadn't been fortunate, and he glanced at another screen and noted the little mark of Colonial One. Not the time to dwell, he thought, and slammed hard mental walls into place around his fears and concerns.
He was aware that no one could beat the odds forever, but his face betrayed none of these thoughts, not even for a split second. He remained the picture of calm no matter what he thought or what happened around him. His crew in turn remained steady around him.
"Cylon Raiders!" Apollo's voice broke through the battle-ready quiet of CIC.
"Set Condition One," Adama ordered.
"At least twenty fighter squadrons inbound. Heavy Raiders too. Looks like most of the Cylon Fleet," Apollo reported before ordering Vipers to form up at his location. Admiral Adama ran through tactical options while Kelly's voice boomed from the loudspeakers, ordering the crew to report to action stations.
"Maybe Starbuck's fan club heard about the wedding and just want to celebrate," Hot Dog joked.
"Think Cylons know any good drinking games?"
"Well, mama always taught me to greet guests politely. So, you rooks ready to give these Cylons a good 'welcome to our shitty nebula' party?" Starbuck asked. Everyone could hear the grin in her voice.
"Cut the chatter!" Apollo said, having allowed enough battlefield camaraderie.
"Colonial One reports fifteen minutes until all civilians are evacuated," Dee said.
"This could be over in ten!" Kelly snapped. Adama ordered the vanguard escort ships to jump along with each of the civilian ships as they were cleared. Their duty was to save those they could. Craning his neck to observe the overwhelming number of incoming enemy contacts on DRADIS, which now also showed the arrival of eight Basestars, Adama knew they were outnumbered. Even with Viper squadrons from Valkyrie, Pegasus, Daedalus, and Prometheus, the Cylons would out-gun the Fleet. He could sense the increased tension in the air as the crew realized the odds. Whatever the odds, they needed to buy at least fifteen minutes. His brows furrowed as gut instinct and a tactical mind formed a questionable idea.
"Put me through Starbuck, Apollo, the Slibinas, and the Chimera," Adama ordered, picking up his comm and rolling a hard six. "This is Galactica Actual. Your orders are to take a squadron and flank the Cylon fleet. Starbuck, circle around and engage the Cylon fleet along heading 447 carom 225 with the Slibinas. Apollo and Chimera, you'll take heading 226 carom 225. Bring your best pilots and help divide their attack. It'll confuse them long enough to let the civilians escape. Be ready to turn and run," he ordered. There was a brief pause over the comm as his two best pilots and two fastest escort ships considered this plan. All of them distinctly remembered learning that this kind of maneuver should only be attempted if one had a superior military force.
"Yes, sir!" Starbuck said. This kind of flank could also be attempted if one had exceptional tactical skills, and the Viper pilot had every confidence in the Old Man's line of thinking. Besides, they weren't trying to win—just attempting to buy time. The gusty maneuver would at least take the Cylons by surprise, and that thought gave Starbuck a thrill of anticipation all the way to her toes. The others followed her acknowledgment and blasted off into position.
Adama ordered Dee to signal the other Battlestars to move into position in front of the enemy to form a hard line between the civilians and the Cylons. He noted each dot vanish from DRADIS as a friendly ship blinked away. The blip of Colonial One remained there as it coordinated the evacuation, and he dared to hope some in the populace would note their current president's priorities.
"Order Battlestars to focus fire on enemy Basestars," he said as the Cylons closed in on them.
"Incoming ordinance!"
The ship lurched and damage control alarms screeched. Another hit smashed into Galactica and Adama heard a power surge from one of the stations behind him. The smell of smoke wafted over from the destroyed station while CIC's readout screens flickered. Adama remained calm and steady, ordering Battlestars into position and letting his Viper squadrons know where to attack.
"Five minutes, Admiral," Dee reported from her station where she hunched over in concentration.
Meanwhile, Cylons ships peeled out of formation to attack the Colonial flank, drawing their lines thinner and breaking the focus of their attack. At opposite sides of the battle, Apollo and Starbuck carefully enticed the Cylon fleet into spreading farther out, lessening their numeric advantage. Cylons were no match for most Colonial pilots in one-on-one dogfights.
In her Viper, Starbuck studied the battlefield before her. There was an artistic beauty in the nebula providing the backdrop of the fight, with its sweeping dust lanes and gasses glowing in reds and purples. Ships flew around darker clumps of dust that would one day be the seeds of a new star. It was a beautiful place, but through the glowing nebula, she noted that the military would start taking heavy losses soon when the Cylons caught on and consolidated their forces to pick them off one by one. Kara barrel rolled out of the line of fire and went after another Cylon, guns blazing. Dodge incoming fire, shoot a Cylon down, take stock of the battle, then rinse and repeat. A shudder skirted down her spine when she saw a mass of ships heading toward the Galactica.
"Galactica, Starbuck," she said into her comm. "It looks like there's a large force with heavy Raiders bearing down on Galactica."
The DRADIS filled with friendly and enemy contacts along with interference from the nebula, deteriorating into the sort of mess only someone with experience could make sense of. Adama saw the significant force on DRADIS that barreled toward Galactica. He noticed that they ignored the easier Viper targets around them and did everything they could to avoid being caught in their line of fire.
"What are they doing? Vipers are picking them off one by one," Kelly said, furrowing his brows.
"Order marine fire teams to prepare to repel Cylon boarding parties," Adama ordered when he recognized it as a Cylon tactic from the First War. Cylons thought and acted like clockwork, a testament to their mechanical nature. Why change a tactic that cost the Fleet so many losses during the First Cylon War?
"Oh, frak," Kelly muttered, yanking the XO's comm off the Information Table. He ordered Sergeant Hadrian to prepare her teams, his eyes wide with unease.
"Tactical, order gun batteries to focus those incoming ships."
"Three minutes," Dualla reported, the forced calm of her voice beginning to shatter. Many of the CIC personnel watched the DRADIS trying to see if their vipers could pick off the approaching Cylon ships. Adama forced himself to take a deep breath to stay relaxed; he was the calm eye of the hurricane.
"Galactica, Hot Dog. One made it through Galactica's firing solution. They're heading for the aft, starboard section," the nearby Viper pilot reported.
"Brace for contact," Adama said in an eerily calm voice.
The Cylon ship, designed to penetrate the heavy armor of a Battlestar, smashed into the side of Galactica. Crewmen stumbled and struggled as the collision jarred the ship and artificial gravity and internal dampeners struggled to compensate. The impact flung Kelly against the Information Table and to the deck where he let out a surprised yell of pain. Adama gripped his station with whitened knuckles but stayed on his feet as acrid smoke from overloaded computers burned his eyes. His expression hardened.
"Impact on section fourth-two gamma," Gaeta said, his shaky voice nearly drowned out by alarms and damage reports. Adama glanced over and noticed an angry gash on his cheek from where he must have hit his workstation. Adama calmly issued orders, balancing leading the Fleet and tending to his own ship.
"Internal comms are reporting sounds of gunfire," Dualla reported. So, they had been boarded.
"Concentrate marine teams around aft damage control and the fire-suppression systems," Adama ordered. He knew his ship, from her corridors and compartments to her moods and quirks; his mental map noted that both systems were perilously close to the Cylon's initial impact.
"One minute until evacuation complete, Admiral," Dualla updated the count-down. The civilians must have shaved a minute by rushing. Every second counts, Adama thought.
"Recall fighters," he ordered. "Spin up FTL drives." Meanwhile, Kelly laid a printout of Galactica on the table in front of Adama with markings that he continued to update as he listened to Galactica's comm chatter. Adama felt himself tense; a two pronged battle was a hard thing to manage. He looked between DRADIS and the map.
"Two Cylons are being held at this junction," Kelly reported, circling an intersection. "Another two passed by the corridor leading to damage control. They could still be heading to fire suppression, but our units there haven't seen any Cylons."
"Where are they going?" Adama asked out loud, glaring at the map like it had answers. It made no sense to him; the Cylons could have used aft damage control to vent their oxygen into space. Do they want us alive, he wondered and dreaded the thought. After hearing stories from Saul and Laura, he'd rather die a soldier's death in battle. He glanced up at DRADIS, seeing that most of his ships were home and the civilians were gone.
"Be ready to jump," he ordered Gaeta, while trying to think of what the Cylon boarding parties wanted. "Oh, frak," he muttered as he noticed a small room tucked in the aft section of the ship. It wasn't considered a strategic point to capture, but it did house a treasure far more precious than jewels to the Cylons. Kelly looked at him curiously as the ship shuddered from incoming ordinance, although nothing that would truly risk damage to the hull.
"Sir?"
"Get marine teams to sickbay. They're after the child."
"All ships aboard, sir," Dualla reported. Adama studied the maps for a spit second. It was a risk jumping with Cylons on board. If they gained access to CIC or returned to their ships and got their bearings, they'd lead the Cylons to the Fleet. With a snap decision, Adama decided it was worth the risk. He knew the target and could route the Cylons and prevent their escape.
"Jump."
…
When Laura stepped out of her shuttle, bone tired and on edge after the jump to Fallback Omega, the dejected faces of the deck gang greeted her. She looked over the hangar bay and saw several wrecked Vipers being either salvaged or repaired. Cally cleaned a nearby Viper that caught Laura's attention. Crimson smudges streaked her usual orange jumpsuit and a grim look of determination remained on her face as she kept working. Laura stepped in front of Liam so he didn't see the young deckhand cleaning out the cockpit of an injured pilot who'd somehow made it back to the deck despite sustaining quite an injury. From the looks on Tyrol's face and on the faces of the rest of his crew, some pilots never made it back to the deck.
Laura and Liam walked toward their little home. The corridors were devoid of their usual noise. It seemed like someone had blown out a candle and thus sucked all the warmth out of the ship. At their quarters, the guards didn't need to open the hatch because it already stood ajar. Inside, Zak slumped on the couch with a tall glass of whiskey in his hand. His glazed eyes stared off into the distance while a red-soaked cloth and rolled up uniform with matching stains were tossed on the couch next to him. Laura's sharp inhale of breath broke the eerie silence.
"I'm okay, mom," Zak murmured without moving and Laura knew that "okay" only meant uninjured. He continued balancing the whiskey on his knee like a man who wanted a drink but couldn't stomach the thought of drinking anything. "Just came here for some quiet."
Liam moved over to his brother and carefully sat down next to him. "What happened?"
"A lot," Zak murmured and he finally looked up at Laura and then at Evie nestled against her. "Dad's in the morgue. I think he might need you. And I could really use some sister time."
Laura nodded and carefully lifted her daughter from the wrap. Zak deposited his barely-touched glass onto the coffee table and reached for his sister, a light finally glimmering in his eyes. Once satisfied that Evie and Liam were exactly what Zak needed, Laura left and hurried toward the morgue. Bill held his crew dear, and she knew that nothing really helped when someone you cared about died but he'd at least have her support.
…
Laura gripped the hatch handle but hesitated as she tried to prepare herself to go inside. Bile rose in her throat like a nauseating reminder of how she hated the morgue more than any other place. Pushing the door open, her whole body shivered but only partly from the cold air.
To her left stood a wall of airtight stainless steel drawers that held humans and Cylons in a vacuum system designed to preserve their bodies. It never smelled as bad as she expected in the morgue; it was mostly cleaning solutions, deodorizer, and a vague sour smell. She took a shaky breath as her eyes were drawn to the unmoving form of her husband standing beside the metal table in the center of the room. His hands were clasped in front of him and his lips pressed into a thin line, and Laura could read the grief in his stoic features.
A body was on the table with a sheet draped over it. Only the head remained exposed and morbid curiosity prompted Laura to take a step closer to see who it was. Dark hair was the first feature she noticed and her heartbeat picked up in her chest. She moved until she stood beside her husband, gently touching his elbow in support.
"Helo," she breathed and looked down at the pale face, noticing that his lips were already turning blue.
"Cylons attacked sickbay. They were after Hera, but Helo wasn't letting them touch his kid. The medics aren't armed, so he single-handedly held them off," Bill explained, his voice thick with unsupressable emotion.
"My gods," Laura whispered.
"He deserved a long life," Bill growled. "We should have hidden Hera. We knew the Cylons wanted her."
Laura opened her mouth to protest, to tell him they made the best decision they could, but no sound came out. They'd tried to make a better choice and allow Hera to remain with her family and now Helo was dead. Her chest tightened as she thought of the impossible decisions they were asked to make in order to save humanity. Right choices, wrong choices, moral choices, risky choices, and yet all too often there were no good options. She looked to her husband and spoke softly, "We tried."
"We make mistakes and people die!" Bill's anger filled the space and Laura jumped, glancing at the morgue door instinctively checking her escape route. He noticed her reaction and his shoulders slumped. "Sorry, Laura."
"Don't apologize for grieving. Helo should be here, but all we can do now is try to protect Hera and Sharon in his place."
"And now we've reached New Caprica."
"Yeah," she whispered, not having been able to look at the planet from the windows of Colonial One. She felt the weight of the coming elections pushing down on her as if trying to drown her under a sea of potential disasters. There were always some waiting around the corner ready to drag them down. She wanted to believe she, Bill, and humanity could make better choices in this timeline, but she looked down at the corpse and saw it as proof that they couldn't. Helo would never see his daughter run across the fields of Earth or see Sharon accepted by the Fleet. "Come on, Bill. It's time to come home. Besides, Bulldog is going to be coming up from the surface any moment to see you."
…
Author's note: Hopefully no on is too mad I killed Helo. Thanks for sticking with me! Shout-out to all my commenters (especially my guest commenters who I can't reply to in PMs) because I really, really enjoy hearing from ya'll.
Just-A-Crazy-Man helped with this list of the Fleet ships.** Is a destroyed ship. Anyone want to name a ship?
Civilian Fleet - 220 Ships - 201 Ships
1 Medical Ship - Rising Star
9 Transports - Colonial One / Pyxis / *unnamed*
12 Mining Vessels - Monarch / Majahual / *Unnamed* / *Unnamed*
17 Tylium Tanker Ships - *unnamed* / *unnamed*
6 Water Tanker Ships - *Unnamed*
1 Scientific Research Vessel - Striker
3 Refinery Ships - Hitei Kan / Daru Mozu
3 Luxury Liners - Cloud Nine / Chrion / Carillon
56 Passenger Ships - Cybele / Triton / Zephyr / Dashur / Inchon Velle / Scorpia Traveller / *unnamed* / *unnamed* / *unnamed* / *unnamed* / *unnamed* / *unnamed*/ *Unnamed*
81 Freighters - Gemenon Traveler / Embla Brokk / Faru Sadie / *unnamed* / *unnamed* / *Unnamed8
11 Heavy Cargo Ships - Cybele / Gideon / Baah Pakal / Adriatic / Clonial Movers / *unnamed*
6 Repair and Salvage Ships - Virgon Express / *unnamed*
4 Agricultural Ships - Botanical Cruiser
1 Prison Ship - Astral Queen
4 Sewage and Recycling Ships - Demetrius
4 Cold Storage Ships - Kimbei Huta / *unnamed*
Military: 18 Ships - 15
1 x Jupiter class Battlestar: Galactica
1 x Mercury class Heavy Battlestars: Prometheus
2 x Valkyrie class Light Battlestar: Valkyrie / Daedalus/ *Jashuman*
4 x Assault Carriers - *Agamemnon* / Slibinas / Chimera
2 x Frigates
7 x Corvettes - Adrastraea / Epheme /*unnamed*