Chapter 3
Battlestar Galactica, CO's quarters
"You're leaving?" Tigh exclaimed. "Now of all times?"
"Because of now. Greer offered me the Valkyrie, Saul." Adama said. "He's giving me my old ship back! My first command, you were there, you know..."
"Bill, who's getting the Galactica? And for the love of Artemis, don't give it to me!"
"Got any better ideas?" Adama asked as he stuffed another shirt in his duffel bag. "I'll pop back and forth, the Valkyrie's with us now. We're part of a battlegroup again." Adama slapped Tigh on the shoulder. "There isn't any crisis like the last time you took the reins. Just a few jumps until we reach Earth, and we can stand down to condition three for the first time since New Caprica."
"Is it really that easy? Didn't the scriptures say something about trouble before reaching Earth, or have I gone mad again?"
"What could happen?" Adama asked rhetorically. "C'mon. Cheer up. The ship's yours. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm moving out." He left the cabin, but paused in the threshold. "And though this is your cabin know, that isn't an excuse to trash my stuff or redecorate. When I want my upholstry I'll send for it." Both men laughed a bit at that, before the slightly sombre mood crept in again. Adama closed the hatch.
Tigh exhaled. He'd played that one well. Only despite his attempts he was still the...
Stop it!
"After all their efforts..." he mumbled. After all the attempts to destroy or cripple the Galactica, a Cylon was put in command legitimately. Would some hidden protocols jump into play and screw up his life more than it already had been? Not yet, anyway. He'd play it by ear for now.
He left the cabin, and slowly walked fore. He wished he could join Adama on the Valkyrie. He could be XO there, instead of CO here. Only over there Adama wouldn't be the commander of the ship. Nelson would be. He would command the battlegroup like an Admiral should: giving orders to the fleet and letting the commander run his own ship. Was that why Adama had been uneasy about his decision to jump ship?
Speaking of commanding his own ship, Tigh faced his first task as CO of the Galactica.
Signing off on a maintenance report.
Maybe Bill was right. No sweat. Yet.
Tau Ceti II, USS Activity
"We made it!" Colonel Matt Naslund exclaimed. Looking out through the observation dome (which had been specially treated to eliminate reflections), the globe of Tau Ceti II stretched out below the starship.
"I don't feel so good," Captain John Emmerson moaned. "I'm going to the head."
Naslund didn't know whether the sickness was from vertigo or the aftereffects of suspended animation. He pegged it down to the cold sleep, considering a Marine pilot wasn't likely to be afraid of heights.
The Activity was the third starship constructed by the United States Air and Space Force. The first was the infamous Enterprise. No points for guessing the origin of the name. The second starship was the Challenger, named for the shuttle that exploded in the 80s.
The Activity was the first starship to leave the Solar System, traveling light years across the void of space to what scientists had discovered to be an inhabitable planet using the new Rasmussen Array, a telescope that made Hubble look like a pair of binoculars. The Activity contained the basic materials and crew required to build a small colony. Behind them was the NASA transport starship Shackleton, with a colonial population to settle what the crew of the Activity constructed. The Russians and Chinese were now sitting up and taking notice, though more for the gesture of leaving the Solar System than what Activity was actually doing here. That was kept well under wraps. They'd probably send out their own ships soon, but the crew of the Activity wouldn't hear about it for ten years. The speed of light was a significant barrier here. For the crews of the Activity and the Shackleton the passage of time would go unnoticed, thanks to the cryogenic freezing.
Emmerson reentered the Bridge, and stared down at Tau Ceti II. "So what're we calling it, sir?"
"For now let's call it... I don't know..." Naslund had to think. "Damn. I'm blank here."
"They gave us a list, you know," Emmerson said.
"Give me some of it," Naslund suggested.
"I can assume there were some Trekkies in the committee," said Emmerson, bringing up the list on a computer display. "We've got Vulcan and Bajor."
Naslund laughed at that. "Let me guess. Same guy who christened the SS-1 Enterprise?"
"Yep. We've also got Australasia and New Montana. Laurasia, Gondwana, boy those are older than the pyramids!"
"I like Bajor. I don't know what the fictional one is, but I like the name," said Naslund. "How are we coming with the crew?"
"Doc's revived a good quarter of them. There have been no fatalities, and all the pods are functioning perfectly. I think we ironed out all the bugs last time around."
Fortunately, the 'last time around' had been a hop around the Solar System, and they'd been in good range of a space station. No fatalities. But they'd been lucky.
"Get the shuttlecraft ready," ordered Naslund. "I want a closer look at this planet."
The planet was similar to Earth in the late Permian or early Triassic eras. There were small seas surrounded by land instead of of continents and oceans. This resulted in an arid climate, and it would require special consideration. Tau Ceti was not as bright as Sol, and threw out much less UV radiation, so copious amounts of sunscreen were not necessary.
"How long until the Shackleton gets here?" Emmerson asked.
"At this rate... Another month," said Naslund. "We have to get to work... We don't have much time."
They didn't. And colonization wasn't the reason they were here.
Strikestar Spitfire, Hangar Deck
"I won't serve under a commander who questions my integrity!"
"And I won't have an officer under my command who doesn't have any."
Apollo couldn't figure out what had led to Adama's change of heart. He'd been let go. It was the most unofficial resignation he'd ever heard of, but it had worked. Now here he was in a Raptor approaching the blocky strikestar Spitfire, with him ready to take command The landing system was the normal autolanding developed for the Adriatic-class, and had the Raptor on the hangar deck in five minutes. Apollo had no option but to be impressed.
"Welcome aboard, Commander,"
Apollo didn't know who this was, but he assumed it was his XO, a stocky woman named Major Cheryl Subharov.
"It's good to be here, Major." said Apollo. "Can you show me to my quarters?"
"I'd assumed the commander would have read up on the ship before taking command," Subharov said coldly. "Follow me, sir."
"How long have you been XO here?" Apollo asked.
"You should have researched that as well, sir," said Subharov. "But if you must know, I've been here for four years."
"Four years!?" Apollo exclaimed.
"Admiral Greer thought I was better suited as XO, considering I had no experience commanding a ship before. He didn't seem to notice when I informed him that I took command of this ship upon your predecessor's death."
Apollo didn't say anything. He could see how she would feel.
The Spitfire was an Adriatic-class strikestar, a smaller complement to a battlestar. It was in effect a flying flight pod. It had standard Viper tubes and the interior was very modern and computerized. Unlike the flight pod of a battlestar only the rear was fully open to space, with only a small aperture in the bow to allow Vipers that had aborted landing attempts to safely exit the pod and try again. Every corner and flat surface was fixed with a turret or CIWS defense system. The engines were arranged around the rear opening to the flight pod, and in total the vessel was the length of a Mercury-class flight pod.
He noticed that Subharov was turning right down the wrong corridor. "Major, isn't that the way to CIC?"
"Of course, sir." She clammed up and didn't say anything more, despite all his efforts to get her to talk. She was incensed.
Subharov was wrong. He had been researching. He just wanted to get to know his XO. And he'd found out more than he'd wanted to know.
Battlestar Valkyrie, CIC
Adama walked through the revolving glass doors into the bright CIC of his old ship. The walls were as clean as he remembered them, the DRADIS consoles spotless and colourful. The operating system was the same clean blue digital display that was used on all newer ships.
"Admiral Adama, welcome home." said Commander Robert Nelson extending a hand. "Welcome home."
"How are you, Robert?" Adama asked, shaking it. "How's the ship?"
"Ready to commence Jump 3. Three minutes to go."
"Copy to Galactica." Adama ordered. "Stand by to jump."
"Sir, the flagship of BSG-41 is signaling. Jump in sixty seconds."
The idea was that the more powerful battlegroup would jump ahead and encounter any trouble. The fleet would then jump a few seconds after, and then Galactica and Valkyrie would jump in last. It would all happen within a minute of each other.
"Jumping in..." Nelson reported to Adama. "Three. Two. One. Engage!"
The room contracted as the Valkyrie jumped across the light years, closer to Earth.
"Jump completed. Contact!" shouted Nelson. "Admiral, we have a contact!"
"Transponders?" Adama barked.
"None, sir. Possible Cylon contact." Nelson relayed from his bridge crew. "No response, though. It's too small for a basestar. And it's moving away from us."
"What? Is there any change?" Adama didn't know what to make of it. "Signal the flagship of 41. I'm going to pull up alongside that ship. And launch a few alert fighters to cover us."
"Aye, sir." said Nelson. He turned to his tactical officer. "Launch alert fighters. Cover that ship."
"Hail them." Adama ordered. "And push a reply up on the speakers."
"No reply." Nelson relayed. "I'm assembling a boarding party in the starboard flight pod, ready to launch on your orders."
"How many Raptors?" Adama asked.
"Uh, two from Valkyrie. Three from Spitfire."
"Make it six. I'm going along." Adama saw Nelson prepare to object, and he raised a hand. "I won't go in until it's secure."
"Very well."
Raptor Six
It was ten minutes since the ships had jumped in, and the mysterious ship still hadn't responded at all. It just sailed on, oblivious to anything going on around it. There were no weapons that could be seen on it, either.
The ship itself looked less like a Colonial ship and more like a collection of spars and tubes thrown together in the most efficient shape. A designers nightmare but an economists dream. The compartments looked like they were made of tin foil instead of armour plating or sheet metal. It reminded Adama of the early Caprican space stations, right down to the solar panels. Instead of reaction motors like the Galactica the ship seemed to use a less powerful but more long term atomic constant boost system.
"The first Raptors have docked," reported the ECO. "No resistance." he said after listening to his headset.
Adama shifted on his seat as the ECO augmented his last statement: "No signs of life at all, sir. Shall we proceed with docking maneuvers?"
"Go ahead," Adama nodded.
Adama's stomach tried to escape as the Raptor flipped over and attached itself to the docking port of the ship. The hatch in the belly of the craft opened.
There was no gravity in the ship, and Adama had trouble adjusting to this new environment.
"Message from the boarding party, sir. They've found what they believe to be the command centre.
"Lead the way," Adama ordered.
The command centre was sufficiently advanced for Adama not to doubt the technology level of the creators of the ship. The only problem was the lack of crew.
Captain Jonathan Coffey, the Marine detachment commander, floated into the command centre. "No signs of life, sir. Commander Adama of the Spitfire is coming aboard in a few minutes."
"Very well..." Adama said absentmindedly. He'd noticed a small insignia on one of the control panels. He could only make out four letters, and a sentence.
"What is it, Admiral?"
"Nasa. Nasa transport starship Shackleton." Adama said. "This isn't a Cylon ship. But I don't know who's it is."
Nasa Transport Starship Shackleton
Major Eric Schindler tried to stretch, but he couldn't. His legs were still stiff from the years he'd spent in cold sleep. He knew that being the first one of the crew to come out of cold sleep was the hardest, but he didn't seem to be alone... The computer was programmed to awaken him in the event of arrival, or something else. Here it seemed to be the latter.
He could here mumbling from the people floating in front of his chamber, but couldn't make any of it out. His body temperature had returned to normal, and he was breathing normally again. He found this time he could move his legs, and his arms. His fingers still felt like they belonged to someone else.
He could still slap the activation button, and opened his chamber. As the pad slid out, the men hovering outside snapped their rifles to a ready position. They took a closer look at him, and one by one lowered their weapons.
"Who are you?" Schindler asked.
"Corporal Janson," said one of marines in a strange english. The words were understandable, but the pronounciation was off. Not wrong, just... off.
"What country are you affiliated with, and why have you boarded my ship?"
"Just a second, I'll have to contact my superiors." The soldier proceeded to do so.
Schindler took the opportunity to scrutinize the soldiers. There was no doubting what they were, and their rifles were recognizable as such. Sure the designs were different, but Schindler had never seen a Russian rifle that looked exactly like an American one. But these weren't Russians.
Who were they? And how did they get out here? What were they doing here?
"Can you move?" asked Janson.
"We'll soon find out," said Schindler. The zero-G environment was perfectly suited for him in his condition. With one shove he floated up the corridor towards the command deck, away from cold storage.
The command deck contained people for the first time in more than forty years. They were definitely humans, albeit in strange uniforms.
There was only one explanation. The United States, or some other country, had in the years he had been on ice launched a starship capable of traveling faster than the Shackleton could, and people from what to him was the future had overtaken the starship. People always considered the possibility when entering into cold sleep.
The uniforms were certainly not American, or Russian. Hell, he'd never seen any uniforms like them before. No rank insignia that he could recognize, and the mission patches... He'd never heard of a battlestar Valkyrie before.
An older man who seemed to be the CO took notice of him drifting into the command deck. "My name is Admiral William Adama of the battlestar Valkyrie." he said in a hoarse, commanding voice. Definitely the CO.
Schindler took it all in stride, trying to appear calm. "Major Eric Schindler, Nasa Transport Starship Shackleton. Which country are you from?"
"Country?" Adama asked. "Our home planet is Caprica. I suppose this will all seem a little strange to you..."
"Yes," Schindler said, tacking on a "sir" at the end. Back on Earth such honours were always rendered between ranks in services of different countries, but even if it didn't apply here he didn't want to risk offending a superior military force. Shackleton was a primarily civilian ship, and even if it did carry a substantial amount of weaponry in the hold the colonists were as yet untrained in their use.
"We stumbled upon your ship by accident." Adama continued. "We thought we hadn't detected any crew, but clearly we were wrong."
Schindler nodded. "They're all on ice for the trip. I was to be revived first when we arrived, or..." He didn't complete the sentence, he didn't have to. Incursion onto the ship by a boarding party would set it off.
"What is your destination?" Adama asked.
"The colony on Tau Ceti II. The starship Activity reached there ahead of us, to prepare the area for settlement." Schindler became a little uneasy. Could these people launch an attack on the Activity and win? The Activity was loaded for bear, nukes, lasers, the whole package. There wasn't much that could push her around.
"Can we join your ship, and head for Tau Ceti as well?" Adama asked.
Schindler was too stunned to reply. "There is no colony as yet..." he said, before glancing at the chronometer. "Wait a minute. They should've arrived by now at least."
"How far is it?" Adama asked.
"Not far now, only a month away if we continue at full speed."
"What if I told you we could get there in a week, or less." He sounded perfectly certain of it, even despite the absurdity of the statement.
"I wouldn't believe you. You'd have to go faster than light, and no country on Earth can do that!"
Adama only smiled.
Battlestar Agrippa, CO's Quarters
"Why aren't we heading to Earth?" Greer asked himself, oblivious to the presence of the commander of the Agrippa, Matthew Ramius. "This new course is heading away from Earth, not towards it."
"Adama has sent over an explanation," Ramius said, displaying a courier run from Valkyrie. "It's his intention to leave the fleet at Tau Ceti under the protection of BSG-41 while the Valkyrie proceeds to Earth to open settlement negotiations. This should also give the civilians a breath of fresh air."
Greer mused over that, and nodded in understanding. "I should've thought of that. He's thinking things through, but then I suppose he's been after Earth longer than we have."
"There is one problem with Tau Ceti, Admiral." Ramius said.
"Only one?"
According to star charts provided by the Terran, there are two other inhabitable planets within close jumping distance of Tau Ceti. One of them is closer to Earth, which is confusing because they've wasted resources settling Tau Ceti first. And the second problem is significant."
"What now? How could things get more complicated?"
"We're deep in Cylon territory now. The second star system is called Gamma Aquile by the Terrans. When compared with our own star charts, this planet..." Ramius removed a copy of the Terran star chart and held it next to one on Greer's desk. "We've had to do some reorienting to make sure they sync, but-"
Greer knew instantly what this planet was. "Adama doesn't know this, does he?"
"No, sir, he couldn't possibly know."
Gamma Aquile had one inhabitable planet. And it was inhabited.
By the Cylons.
Sorry for the delay. I just had a national shooting competition, and had a lot of catching up to do. I wanted to nudge the story in some sort of direction, I hope it turns out to be interesting. And of course there'll be what happens along the way. But don't get too comfortable.