Chapter Three
Four Hours Later
Captain Lee 'Apollo' Adama sighed as he finished guiding his Viper around the small airless rock that was the outermost planet of the solar system that housed the Colonies of Caprica and Virgon. Several ships appeared on his dradis display and he knew that his long, solo flight was almost over. In another few minutes he would be landing on the biggest of the seven warships, and the ship he'd been dreading setting foot on ever since he'd first got the orders a day ago.
He'd left the Battlestar Solaria and her own escort group behind several hours ago – it had taken so long to get here at near full thrust from the line of the Solaria's inter-system patrol. Truth be told he would be glad to get out of this cockpit, Vipers weren't really meant to be sat in constantly for several hours, even if he would be going into a situation that he would rather not be in. A situation that would take him face to face with his father – a man he'd not spoken to in two years and could do without speaking to again any time soon. Hopefully I'll get through this ceremony without having to deal with my father as anything other than a superior officer, he thought.
At that moment his communications system hummed to life. "Attention incoming Viper, this is the Battlestar Galactica," a female voice said. "Identify yourself and state your intentions."
"Galactica this is Viper four five zero. Request approach vector and landing clearance," Lee replied.
For a moment there was a pause. "Pilot identify yourself and state your mission," the woman asked.
"Captain Lee Adama, call sign Apollo. I have orders to report to Galactica for the decommissioning ceremony," Lee replied.
"Roger that, Apollo, stand by," the woman answered.
"Roger Galactica, standing by," Lee acknowledged as he guided his Viper closer and closer to the Galactica and the six smaller warships that formed her escort squadron. As he drew closer the Vipers limited dradis system picked up additional contacts flying around, dozens of them, contacts that he knew would be Vipers and Raptors engaged in a regulation combat patrol.
"Apollo, Galactica you are clear to approach on vector two eight. Contact the LSO on channel three when on final approach," the female officer on the distant battlestar said at last.
"Roger that, Galactica," Lee acknowledged a moment before the connection with the battlestars command centre closed down.
Letting the professionalism that was installed by his training take over, Lee forgot about his dread about meeting with his father again and began threading his Viper through the traffic buzzing around the capital ships, Vipers and Raptors of the Galactica squadron – on approach to the battlestar herself.
He calmly flew over one of the destroyers and there in front of him was the battlestar, though not a gigantic as the new Mercury-class battlestars the Galactica was still an enormous ship. Though he was still a few hundred kilometres out from her she almost filled his cockpit canopy. A fifteen hundred metre long behemoth that bristled with plasma cannons, missile launchers and CWIS arrays and whose refractive armour hull seemed to glow slightly as rays from the distant sun reached her. Like all the battlestars she was a sight to behold.
With a flick of a switch Lee turned to channel three as he guided his Viper to come in over the Galactica's bow on a so called 'high downwind approach', so named from the ancient nautical term when sea going carriers had turned themselves into the wind to allow their planes to land.
"Galactica LSO, this is Viper four five zero, request landing clearance," he said into the radio.
"Viper four five zero, this is Galactica. Approach port landing bay, speed one zero five, checkers green, call the ball," the voice of Galactica's Landing Signals Officer replied.
"Copy that, Galactica," Lee acknowledged as he adjusted his angle to come into the port side flight pod. As he came in he – as regulations demanded – repeated the information he'd been given. "Approaching port landing bay, speed one zero five." He brought his Viper into position, looking forward down the length of the landing bay so he could see the stars on the other side. "I have the ball," he continued and urged the Viper forward.
Landing was always a difficult manoever on a moving ship. Even the tiniest of mistakes could send the Viper crashing into the deck or into the wall of armour that was the side of the ship. It was precisely how Zack had died, died on his first attempt at landing on a battlestar. Lee blinked and pushed the thought of his little brothers death out of his mind and instead focused on guiding the Viper into the bay. A soft bleeping tone came in his ears from the radio speakers, the tone indicating he was in the correct glide path for landing. All around him metal walls and decking appeared as the crossed into the bay.
With the skill of a born pilot, Lee guided the Viper into an illuminated landing panel and with minimal fuss set down on the pad. He felt the faint shudder run through the Viper as the landing skids made contact with the deck and the maglocks engaged.
"Skids down, maglocks secure," the LSO said more for the benefit of the deck crew in the hanger below that Lee himself. Lee paid him no mind as he cut all propulsion and started on his post-flight checklist even as he felt weight return to his limps as the battlestars artificial gravity made its presence known. As it did so he felt movement and knew that the landing platform was starting its descent down to the hanger.
The hanger deck was a sharp contrast to the relatively dimly lit and near deserted landing bay. Instead it was brightly illuminated and bustling with activity. Deck crew in their bright orange and black uniforms bustled around the many Vipers and Raptors parked in hanger deck, to the untrained eye it would look like a scene of chaos with specialists wielding complex pieces of equipment going this way and that. But to Lee's eyes it appeared as a carefully choreographed ballet as the deck crew or knuckle draggers as they were known to most pilots and officers made sure the battlestars armada of small craft ready to go at a seconds notice.
A tractor appeared ahead of him and with a jolt that he felt in his bones, locked onto the nose of his Viper and began towing it clear of the landing platform, into a waiting bay. The moment the tractor released the Viper three or four of the crew appeared to completely lock him down, attach fuel lines and so forth. Here we go, Lee thought as he opened the canopy and took off his helmet. A specialist took it off him before helping him undo the locking collar around his neck. Then Lee climbed out of the Viper, picked up the small bag that contained his dress uniform and descended the steps that had been run up beside the fighter.
As soon as his feet touched the deck Lee stretched loosening up muscles and joints that had become stiff from being sat in the same position for far to long.
"Captain Adama," a voice asked from off to his right. Turning he found himself face to face with a well built man with the insignia of a chief petty officer on his coverall like uniform collar. The stranger stood at attention and offered a salute. "Galen Tyrol, I'll be your crew chief while you're aboard."
"Stand easy, chief," Lee replied returning the salute. "It's nice to meet you."
"Thank you, sir. Are there any problems I need to be made aware of with your plane?" Tyrol asked.
Lee considered for a moment. "No chief, everything is fine."
Tyrol nodded. "That's good to hear, I've got enough work to do getting everything ready for the ceremony," he said. Lee chuckled.
"I know what you mean, I'll be glad when this is all over." Tyrol frowned slightly hearing something in Lee's voice, something that said that Lee did not want to be here. He couldn't help but wonder if the rumour going around the ship that the commander and his son had had some sort of major falling out were indeed true. No one – except perhaps Starbuck – knew if it was true or not and Kara Thrace was not saying a thing.
"I think everyone will be, sir," Tyrol answered. "I know the old man will be, we've had this PR guy on board for a week now and he's been driving the old man daft." Despite himself Lee couldn't help but smile slightly at that, his father had never been particularly fond of reporters or public relations people, to be lumbered with one for a week was bound to drive William Adama absolutely crazy.
"I just wish I knew why he wanted me here," Lee muttered to himself thinking of his father, the last time they'd spoken they had not said very good things to each other.
"Sir?"
"It's nothing, chief. Do you know where I can find the CAG?"
"He'll be in his office; I know he's expecting you. Can you find your way there or should I get someone to show you?"
"I can find my way, chief," Lee replied. "I've served on Guardian-class battlestars before."
"Of course sir, sorry," Tyrol replied wincing inwardly as he realised how his words might have come across, and mentally kicking himself for not checking the service history of Captain Lee 'Apollo' Adama.
"Don't worry about it," Lee answered with a smile to reassure the chief he wasn't offended or anything by the possible thought that he could get lost on this ship. He wasn't a green pilot; it had been a very long time since he'd gotten lost on a battlestar. Particularly a Guardian-class – even one as old as the Galactica – as the various types of Guardian were the mainstay of the battlestar fleet, though they were slowly being phased out in favour of the larger and much more powerful Mercury-class battlestars.
"Carry on, chief," Lee instructed Tyrol before turning and walking away leaving the deck chief behind him to watch his retreating back, before turning to resume his own duties.
Ministry of Defence
Caprica, Thirty Minutes Later
The beautiful, blond haired woman known as Natasi smiled as she was cleared through the last of the Ministry of Defence security checkpoints. After passing through the security scanner she was handed her biometric ID card back by the armed marine on duty and allowed to board the lift down to the extensive facility blasted deep into the granite bedrock below Caprica City.
The security checkpoint scanners never ceased to amuse her, especially in how they were completely ineffective at doing the job they were supposed to do; detect Cylon infiltrators. In typical Human fashion the Colonials hadn't considered that her people would develop better human-looking forms that the basic ones they'd employed toward the end of the first war. Those had had a Human appearance but had been wholly mechanical under a synthetic flesh surface. The Colonials had apparently continued to design their scanners along those lines, whereas her kind had learned and changed and come up with the Human forms that were almost entirely organic with only a few mechanical components, components sheathed in mimetic alloy so they would be incredibly hard to detect.
Humans can be so predictable, the model six humanoid Cylon thought contemptuously then thought of Gaius. And decided that there were exceptions, Gaius was very smart for his race and while easy to manipulate in some respects in others he challenged her. Especially he challenged her intelligence and creativity – a trait that did not always come easily to Cylons.
The lift doors opened at that moment and Natasi stepped out into the lobby of the underground bunker and showed her ID to the guard on duty at the reception desk, and was immediately buzzed through into the rest of the facility. So predictable, she thought with an inward smile as she moved into the complex.
She paid the Colonial marines, fleet personnel and civilian contractors walking around the facility no mind as she made for her destination with single minded determination that harked back to her kind's beginnings as simple robots. Likewise the people milling about ignored her as they carried out their own tasks, tasks that although they did not yet know it would be irrelevant soon enough.
For there would be no Humans left alive to carry them out.
It took Natasi a good twelve minutes to get to her destination deep in the very core of the vast underground labyrinth of the defence bunker. In front of her was a solid metal door with an electronic lock beside it, calmly she tapped in the access code. With a soft humming sound the door slid aside allowing her access to a room that was noticeably warmer than the rest of the facility.
Smiling triumphantly the humanoid Cylon stepped into the room, the door automatically closed behind her even as motion sensors triggered the lights. The room was filled with nothing but banks of computer servers and hard drives in metal cabinets. Each computer she knew controlled a section of Caprica's planetary defence grid as well as handling all Colonial Fleet communications data in this system. Soon this room won't be fore filling its function, she thought before setting about the task that she had come here to carry out.
Galactica Squadron
That Same Time
Like all battlestars the Galactica boasted two hanger pods each with its own landing and launching systems for spacecraft of all sizes, from the nimble and deadly Viper fighters she carried in her bays to medium-sized civilian spacecraft. And right now the largest type of civilian spacecraft capable of docking with the massive battlestar was manoeuvring carefully into the flight deck of the Galactica's starboard flight pod.
Colonial Heavy 798 used careful bursts of gas from its manoeuvring jets to ease itself into position in the flight deck. Unlike Vipers and Raptors the liner was far too big to be lowered down into the hanger deck itself; instead she would be joining up with airlocks spaced equally along the length of the deck. It was a delicate, nerve wracking operation both for the liners pilot and the LSO, both fully conscious of the fact that there was absolutely no room for error. Even a tiny mistake or miscalculation would result in a catastrophe that would cripple or even destroy both ships.
Finally after a few moments of delicate, controlled bursts of docking thrusters the liner came to a dead halt in the bay. Telescoping connecting corridors emerged from the battlestars airlocks and mated with the airlocks on the side of the liner, forming an airtight seal and allowing docking clamps to engage.
Laura Roslin cautiously descended the ladder into the interior of the battlestar Galactica, where a young man in an expensive-looking blue business suit was waiting for her and her party.
"Secretary Roslin," the young man asked.
"Yes," Laura confirmed as she stepped off the ladder and a very nervous Billy Keikeya started down himself.
"My name is Aaron Doral," the young man replied offering his hand. "I'm with Public Relations I'd like to welcome you aboard the Galactica."
"It's a pleasure to be here," Laura answered shaking the offered hand as Billy reached the bottom of the ladder. "This is my aide Billy Keikeya."
"A pleasure," Doral said nodding to Billy.
"Likewise, Mr Doral," Billy answered with a nod of his own.
"If you will please follow me, I'll show you to somewhere where you can rest and freshen up until the decommissioning ceremony is ready to begin," Doral said with a pleasant smile that didn't quit reach his eyes.
"That would be very nice, it has been a long flight at sublight speed," Laura replied. Doral nodded and started walking away, Laura and Billy followed a few paces behind him, with the two security agents assigned to protect the secretary of education following along a few paces behind them.
Walking down the corridors Laura couldn't help but notice how grim they looked, dull composite metal panels inset with light strips and the occasionally oxygen recycler. The colour was either grey, dark blue or black. There was a sense of grim purpose to them that seemed to fit this older ship, Galactica belonged to a different era, an era when there had been a constant fear that war with the Cylons could break out again any day, she lacked the brightness of later generation Guardian and Mercury class ships. Aesthetics had been very much a secondary concern in the first two generations of Guardian-class battlestars.
For a few moments she considered recommending that during the refit they do something about the colour scheme of the ship. Change it to something brighter, more modern and aesthetically pleasing, but after a moment she decided against it. The whole idea of turning this ship into an orbiting museum was so that the generation of children growing up now on Caprica and the other colonies and the generations that followed them understood their history, and the ships their ancestors had fought so hard in against the mechanical terror of the Cylons.
So she would make sure they let the Galactica be as she was, and change as little as possible, as it would make history that little bit more real, more meaningful to a generation that was growing increasingly disconnected from the events of their own past.
Gianne Franklin nervously descended another ladder into the Galactica, she had never been on a warship before and had absolutely no idea what to expect. As she reached the bottom of the steps she saw a man in his mid to late sixties waiting for her, and even before she saw the commander's insignia on his collar she knew that it was Commander William Adama. She could see in his face things that reminded her of Lee, especially his clear, highly intelligent blue eyes.
"Gianne," William asked hiding his nerves as best as he was able. He had only ever seen a picture of Lee's fiancé, and it didn't do her justice. Gianne was a very beautiful young woman, with kind features and shoulder length blond hair that was swept back into a ponytail that cascaded down her shoulders. He had no doubt that she had had a lot of hot blooded young men after her in her time.
"Commander Adama," Gianne replied. "Or should I call you, dad?"
William shook his head. "Not yet you have to marry my son first," he answered with a faint spark of humour in his eyes. He recognised her words as an icebreaking tactic, to break the initial tension of meeting each other for the very first time. "How about you just call me William for now, or Bill for short if you wish," he said.
Gianne smiled slightly. "Okay, Bill it is then," she replied. "Though speaking of Lee is he aboard yet?"
"Yes, though I haven't seen him. At the moment he'll be with Ripper."
"Ripper?"
"My CAG Major Spencer Jackson," William explained.
"And Ripper's his call sign, just like Lee's is Apollo," Gianne guessed then shook her head. "That's one thing I've never understood is how Lee got the name of one of the gods as his call sign."
"It wasn't his idea he got lumbered with it by his flight instructor. And once you get a call sign you don't shake it off no matter how much you hate it."
Gianne chuckled slightly picturing the look of embarrassment on the face of Cadet Lee Adama as he got lumbered with the call sign Apollo. William looked at her in confusion.
"Is something wrong," he asked.
"No it's just, I can just see the look on Lee's face when he got lumbered with that call sign," Gianne replied before degenerating into wholesale laughter. William thought about it, as he hadn't been there at the time, and unable to help himself he started to snicker then laugh himself. Something that startled passing crew as they rarely heard William Adama laugh or show any emotion at all.
After a few moments the two of them brought themselves under control. "My quarters are this way," William said. "I've told Ripper to inform me the moment Lee leaves his office then I can get him summoned to my quarters. He won't come otherwise."
"Well we will have to see what can be done about that," Gianne said sliding her arm into the loop William formed with his left arm. "The current state of affairs between the two of you cannot continue." Especially as I want our baby to know his or her grandfather, she thought thinking of the little surprise that she had to spring upon Lee.
"I know," William replied softly as they started walking down the corridors and hallways of the Galactica towards his quarters. He knew Gianne was right and part of him desperately wanted to rebuild his relationship with his oldest son, a son he readily acknowledged he had not been the best father to.
The truth be told he hadn't been much of a father to either of his sons and Lee's anger and grief filled words at their last meeting still rang in his head, even after two years. Words that indicated Zack would still be alive if he hadn't implied that he would not be a man if he didn't wear the wings of a Viper pilot. A statement that he guiltily acknowledged was at least partially correct.
"I know," he repeated more to himself as he guided his future daughter-in-law through the corridors of his ship, to a meeting that he knew would be emotionally charged but one he hoped would be a healing one. He supposed only time would tell exactly what would happen next.