Chapter 4.
The two Battlestars had arrived at the emergency jump coordinates where the civilian fleet was holding position. Three Raptors under the protection of two full squadrons of near mint-condition Mk VII vipers were now on final approach at the starboard-landing bay. The three raptors touched down and their viper escort continued through the length of the bay exiting the front. The three raptors were lowered into the hanger where they would be met by two dozen armed Colonial Marines from Galactica, and a small contingent of senior officers; a far cry from the reception given to Admiral Cain.
The hatches on Raptor 2 and 3 opened and heavily armed Marines exited to take up positions in front of Raptor 1 that contained Culverhouse. That hatch lowered, and out stepped Rear Admiral Mack Culverhouse in dress grays, his CAG in her dress uniform at his side. Culverhouse stepped off the wing and proceeded to the center of the bay directly in front of Adama, who was flanked by Saul Tigh and President Roslin. The two Battlestar commanders came to attention and saluted.
"Permission to come aboard, Admiral!" requested Culverhouse.
"Permission granted, Admiral!" replied Adama smiling.
"Are you convinced this isn't a raptor filled with bucket heads now?" joked Culverhouse.
Adama did not reply but motioned towards Laura. "May I introduce the President of the Colonies…Laura Roslin." Culverhouse extended his hand, which she took firmly.
"Madam President, I'm honored to meet you, I am sure yours is quite the story to tell."
"As should yours, Admiral. I too am honored to meet you." Replied Laura.
Culverhouse glanced at Colonel Tigh, looking him over from head to toe. "Saul Tigh...the gods saw fit to grace us with your dour presence, didn't they?" laughed Culverhouse extending his hand. "That eye patch comes with a story I suppose?"
"And then some, Admiral. Welcome aboard!" replied Tigh. He turned towards the Marine sergeant and dismissed him and his detail that promptly shouldered their weapons and departed.
"Mack I'm sure you remember my son Lee, he's Galactica's CAG.
"Of course, I do, Bill. It's been years Major, but I could never forget your face." He turned towards Major Hawks. "This is my own CAG, Major Tamara Hawks." She nodded towards the gathered officers and fell back a few paces behind Culverhouse when they started to walk towards the bay exit. Pacifica's Marines were also dismissed, and Lieutenants Kara Fan and Mark Sarnex were ordered to escort them to the Marine lounge where they could interact with their fellow Marines from Galactica.
Within a half hour Adama, Culverhouse, Tigh and the President were sitting in Adama's private quarters. A table was set with fine linens and china. Two large bottles of Caprican red wine sat at each end. White gloved ensigns poured the wine into silver and glass long stemmed wine glasses then exited the room.
"I'll start off by asking the obvious, Mack. How the hell did you survive the attack, and where have you been since then?" asked Adama.
"We were enroute to Scorpion fleet shipyard to have maintenance done on our network due to a serious problem we encountered with the targeting systems. I had Morlock take the network offline and we were less than a day out when viper I had out on a training mission were attacked, then the shipyard. I lost 12 vipers under very suspicious circumstances, and when we determined that the Cylons found a way to disable our networked systems I ordered a withdrawal, there was no way to know if a raider could inflict the same sabotage on a Battlestar that they did on the vipers."
"They could! You have no idea how smart that call was." Said Tigh picking up his wine glass.
Adama recounted how the Cylons were able to infiltrate the Command Navigation Program designed by former President Dr. Baltar who was now among the missing after the second exodus from New Caprica. Culverhouse was flabbergasted by the story of the crushing defeat of the mighty Colonial fleet at the hands of the Cylons. He was further shocked at the revelation of the Cylons now looking completely human.
"Twelve models of humanoid Cylons? My mind can't wrap itself around that, it's a fraking nightmare!" He quickly composed himself and apologized to Laura for the language. She just smiled and nodded her head.
"Admiral, you'll have to forgive me, I've been down this path before with the Pegasus and Admiral Cain. Without going too far in depth now, all I can say is that it did not work out very well. I have many of my own questions, and chief among them is your intentions."
"My intentions, Madam President?" said Mack looking confused. Adama shot Roslin a sharp look, which she clearly ignored.
"I won't mince words Admiral. Upon reuniting with the Pegasus, Admiral Cain assumed command of the fleet, and the results were…disastrous." Culverhouse grasped the meaning of her concerns immediately, he turned towards Adama.
"Bill, let me assure you…I have no intention of relieving you of command. I outrank you, but you have been the glue that has kept this fleet and the last remnants of our civilization together since the attacks. Only an egotistical lunatic would jump into the unknown complexities of your unique situation and try to take over. There is so much I have to catch up on, and I want to pledge my support and that of the Pacifica and her crew to you and the President." Said Culverhouse earnestly.
"I appreciate that Admiral, let me assure you that my staff and I will bring you and your command staff up to speed on our current situation, and current course of action which is to locate the home of the 13th tribe and resettle." Said Adama.
"13th tribe…the lost tribe of Kobol?" asked a stunned Culverhouse. "My gods you people have a job ahead of you bringing us up to speed." Laughed Culverhouse. "Now…let me tell you my story." From there, Culverhouse retold the story of life on the run for Pacifica after the attacks.
Pilot's lounge.
Lee Adama sat with Kara Thrace, Dylan Wolfe, Becky Zathras and Major Hawks at a table in the corner. Tamara has loosened the collar on her tunic and was drinking a beer. Unlike the Galactica, Pacifica had no support ships, no access to food and drink stores that were in copious amounts aboard the Luxury Liner Cloud Nine before its destruction. The only alcoholic beverages aboard her Battlestar were produced in an approved distillery. This was a luxury long denied. She was not flying, so she would limit herself to one.
"Major Adama," she began. Lee cut her off and told her to feel free to call him by his call sign. "Alright…Apollo, I couldn't help but notice the presence of Mk II vipers out when we first encountered you, and in the hanger bay. I realize that Galactica is an old Battlestar, but I know for a fact she had a full complement of Mk VII's." Kara Thrace set her ceramic 'Top Gun' mug down hard on the table and spoke up.
"The Cylons took out our entire wing in the opening attack! The poor bastards never had a chance to defend themselves." Hawks felt Starbuck's pain clear across the table; she knew what it was like to lose pilots. "With the Admiralty's infinite wisdom to turn a warship into a floating school and museum we had two full squadrons of antique vipers long since put out to pasture, to dress up their museum. Those antiques were not networked; hence, they were not susceptible to the Cylon virus. If not for them I doubt we'd even be sitting here today having this conversation."
"But I have seen Mk VII's."
"Courtesy of the Pegasus; when Apollo decided to run the Beast on a suicide mission to rescue our asses on New Caprica he left his entire air wing to protect the civilian ships. However, before that, their own board production facility cranked out two complete squadrons of Mk. VII's. The Mk. II's we have left are held together with spit and wire." Chimed in Captain Wolfe, call sign Ghostrider.
Vixon spoke up next, "How many vipers do you guys have left?"
Widow Maker lowered her eyes to the floor. "We lost the entire compliment of Gamma squadron and two from Omega squadron at Scorpion shipyards. We currently have 52 Mk VII vipers in service, 6 are down in various stages of disrepair."
"Well we took in a major haul of Tylium and raw metal supplies from a toaster outpost we took out a few months back, I'm sure we'll be able to resupply Pacifica." Said Vixon.
"Why Becky…congratulations!" said Ghostrider sarcastically. "I wasn't aware that you were made commander, perhaps you'd care to give the good major a few of our pilots while you're at it." Looking straight ahead, Becky Zathras displayed an obscene gesture to her fellow Dragon.
"Don't mind Ghostrider, Major…he's been blacklisted from most women aboard Galactica, so he's been 'winking it' for months, it's making him cranky!" Widow Maker smiled politely, she was unused to such crudity aboard Pacifica, she took another pull of her beer. 'Yes…this is going to take some time getting used to' she thought to herself.
From the Adama Journals:
For the second time since the destruction of the Colonies, we have encountered another Battlestar spared from the Cylon's cowardly onslaught. The Battlestar Pacifica; under the command of old friend Rear Admiral Mack Culverhouse, has returned from the dead. Like Pegasus before her, she was fortunate enough to have had her network down at the time of the surprise attack and was able to jump to safety.
Unlike Admiral Cain, Culverhouse did his best to remain off Cylon dradis. Utilizing hit and run tactics on fuel depots and ammunition dumps either owned or captured by the Cylon Empire. The timing for Pacifica could not have been more fortuitous, her fuel load was slightly above reserve levels when encountered by Galactica's Combat Air Patrol. I have ordered the refueling ship to replenish Pacifica, but this will take at least four loads. They refinery ship has gone to round-the-clock shifts to process their Tylium into the fuel needed to replenish a Battlestar. Fortunately, the civilian fleet and Galactica are presently at maximum fuel loads, but once Pacifica has been fully fueled, our refinery ship will be at seriously low levels. It would be prudent to start searching now for more tylium sources.
The President's concerns for Admiral Culverhouse's command intentions had been uncomfortably voiced at dinner with him. While he outranks me in time and grade, it would be proper for him to assume command of the fleet if he had chosen to do so. As is characteristic of Mack, he chose what was best for the many, instead of the one, even if military protocol would fully support his actions if he chose to assume command. For the time being, Admiral Culverhouse has accepted a support position, and Pacifica will be stationed at the far end of the fleet protecting our rear. As I do not intend to repeat Admiral Cain's mistakes, no transfers or integration of military personnel are planned. However, the Pacifica has an operational and modern flight simulator that will be used to train new pilots needed to replenish both our air wings. I have instructed Major Scorpio to resupply Pacifica's munitions immediately, and a meeting between senior staff will be commenced at 1700 hours tomorrow to discuss our next course of action regarding staffing Pacifica from the civilian fleet with qualified personnel after extensive training, and our journey to Earth.
Colonel T. Morlock sat across the desk from Mack; on his knee, he balanced a mug containing his preferred brew of Cancerian coffee, a rare commodity up until now. Since joining the fleet, the Pacifica had been slowly resupplied with basics that had long been scarce or absent entirely since the fall of the colonies.
"We have just completed the first of four refuelings, and Raptors from Galactica have been arriving all morning with munitions and other basics, Admiral." Reported the executive officer.
"Excellent XO, I want to start leave for the crew as soon as possible, the captain of the luxury liner Caprica Clipper has been gracious enough to put our crew at the top of their list for recreation. We will do rotations of 36 hours not to exceed personnel numbering 16 to start with. I'm sure this will take the edge off our people after the last year and a half." Said Mack.
"Affirmative sir." Morlock sat there eying Mack, saying nothing.
"Out with-it XO!" said Culverhouse recognizing that look.
"Is there any particular reason why you are not exercising your rights and authority under military law to assume command of the fleet?" Mack leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers behind his skull. He let out an audible sigh.
"Tom, you read the logs, with what happened with Cain." Started Mack.
"You aren't Cain, she was unbalanced and should have been relieved of command the moment she put a bullet through the head of her number two." Responded Morlock.
"Billy Adama has been in command of this ragtag, fugitive excuse for a fleet since the destruction of the Colonies. Between him and the president, they had kept the last remnants of the twelve colonies alive in the face of total annihilation from the Cylons, and threat from the Eastern Alliance. He knows the ins and outs of this fleet, the individual ship captains and tactical situation. It would take me weeks, if not months to get brought up to speed. To be honest…I can't say I'm disappointed to not have the weight of the twelve worlds upon these old shoulders. This is Adama's fleet, until he demonstrates any incapacity or malfeasance; it will remain under his command."
"I understand, sir. Onto other matters…" said Morlock shuffling through his notes. "Omega squadron is flying CAP currently, and Pacifica has assumed station at the rear of the convoy. We are almost out of this quadrant, and I've detailed Raptor 3 to remain on station for 12 hours after the fleet has jumped to scan for any Cylon trailers."
"Excellent Tom," replied a visibly tired Culverhouse. "after so long of being on our own, I think I'll get my first real night's sleep knowing that we now have a purpose, the journey to find our new home, and knowing that we're no longer alone and making a difference."
Tari was surprised to see Lt. Kara "Destiny" Fan waiting for her in the pilot's quarters, she was in her workout outfit, and by the amount of sweat covering her well-toned body, it was apparent she had just come from the gym. "Hey Kara!"
"Hey Tari, if you're free tonight I'm heading down to the lounge, there are two extremely hot viper jocks from Pacifica on board, and I happen to know for a fact they'll be there." Said a smiling Destiny.
"What would viper jocks from Pacifica be doing aboard Galactica? There are no plans for integration that I know of." Asked Tari.
"Specialized maintenance to their Mk. VII's, apparently their deck chief sent them over to Tyrol to have him check out a problem he couldn't handle or some such thing. Anyway, they are here, and they are hot. I need to get laid!"
Tari laughed aloud, Kara was indeed a woman who knew what she wanted and was not afraid to let you know what it was, especially if it was a subject that was intimate. She hung around Starbuck too much she thought to herself. "I don't know…I'm not committing to an answer either way at this point. There is a card game going on down in the knuckle-dragger's quarters that I was invited to. I'd hate to miss an opportunity to relieve them of some cubits." Laughed Tari slipping off her well-polished uniform boots. She hung her blue duty uniform blouse in her locker and pulled out a book.
"Where the frak did you get that?" said Kara immediately zeroing in on the thick book. Kara Fan had read every book on Galactica at least three times, and constantly was on the look-out for new reading materials whenever visiting other ships in the fleet. It was a story about a serial murderer from Picon who focused solely on socialators. A socialator was a 4,000-year-old profession sanctified by the "elders" of Kobol wherein a person obliges the desires of others. There had been a reemergence of that ancient profession on various ships throughout the fleet since the exodus, most notably on the Prometheus.
"It's on loan from a viper jock from Alpha squadron aboard Pacifica; the guy has a serious collection of leather-bounds from murder mystery to a complete reproduction of the Sacred Scrolls. He could get rich just by renting them out." Replied Tari as she pulled out a pair of sweat pants and black tank top.
"So, you really are going to blow me off, and the opportunity to hook up with some hot sticks?" asked Destiny with a disappointed look.
"I'm afraid so Kara, maybe you could entice Starbuck or Betty to join you instead. If I need to get laid it sure as hell won't be from some random viper jock looking to knock off a piece." Laughed Tari as she secured her locker door.
The resurrection ship was strategically placed between the two Basestars; the trio had been trailing Galactica and her fleet for less than a parsec now. In the command and control center, Cavil stood before the Data-stream, hands clasped behind his back. Before him stood Caprica 6 and a visitor, Dr. Gaius Baltar. The former President of the Colonies, and prime instrument in their defeat, and near extinction.
"You see Doctor; it is merely a matter of several more jumps before we overtake Adama and his pathetic fleet. The trail is warm, and Admiral Adama isn't as clever as he would like to think." Said Cavil smugly. "Cylon technology as you of all people should know, is far more advanced than Colonial, our 'noses' so-to-speak, is infinitely more sensitive than yours. It was only a matter of time before we picked up the trail."
"Perhaps you of all people should remember that "He who boasts loudest, loses most!" retorted Baltar. Caprica 6 smiled and placed her arm around Baltar's shoulders. Cavil's smile turned into a frown. He despised Baltar and would sooner have flushed him out the nearest airlock, but that was impossible, he was under the protection of Caprica 6.
"Caprica dear, could you teach your pet to mind his betters, please?"
Leoben, who was standing to the side accessing the Data-stream, quickly looked up. "We have a contact…sector 4. Our patrol has picked up a trailing Raptor and jumped away before being detected."
"Dr. Baltar I am pleased to inform you that you will soon be a very important man, you will be the sole surviving member of the human race." Said Cavil as he abruptly departed the room.
Matt Lensherr was making his way back to his quarters when he crossed paths with newly minted Lieutenant Tari Adama. "Good evening Ares."
"Good evening yourself, Hephaestus. What brings the fire god to these parts?" She asked. Lensherr thought he detected a slight purr to her response. Was she flirting with him? Gods knew she was attractive, but she was also the old man's daughter. 'Tread carefully' he thought.
"Heard there was a high stakes card game with the knuckle draggers, but the table is full, and there's at least 10 more players waiting to get into the game. No sense in wasting my night for a possibility of an opening." Replied Matt. A frown replaced the smile on Tari's face; apparently, she wouldn't be taking part in the game either.
"Frak…it would seem we're both free for the night, lets grab a drink!" said Ares gripping Lensherr by the arm.
Galactica CIC
Saul Tigh stood by the plotting table reviewing star charts; they had now entered a new star system. This was a unique system by Colonial standards; the system they entered was a trinary system consisting of three stars. These systems were smaller than open star clusters, which have more complex dynamics and typically have from 100 to 1,000 stars. Several planetoids were detected, and a recon patrol launched. The patrol was under the command of Captain Jon Horlach of Red Aces squadron, his wing mates were Rogue and Destiny, Raptor 1 flew ahead of its protection.
"Raptor 1 – Peacemaker…what is your pretty little nose telling you, Nina?"
Aboard Raptor 1 Major Nina Nintius glanced over to her ECO and smiled. "He has such a way with words, doesn't he?" The truth was that Nina enjoyed the former Libran police officer's playful banter. The only bigger flirts in the fleet were Ghostrider and the irascible Nightstalker. "Peacemaker – Raptor 1…I have zero readings from planet number one, dry and barren with zero atmosphere."
"Kind of spooky out here Nina, I haven't seen too many trinary systems in my lifetime. I hope that one of these planetoids will contain some tylium, refueling Pacifica has gutted the gains we made from that Cylon outpost in fuel surplus." Said Horlach, as he glanced out his canopy into the blackness of the system.
"Well planetoid one is a major bust, two to go…maybe the gods will smile upon us." Nintius was not a religious person, but she liked that saying and saw no harm using it.
"Maybe the gods will smile upon me knocking off a piece with Tomboy or Orion…or both!" exclaimed Lt. Mick Rogue loudly. He was bored, recon patrols 'sucked dead skin-job testicles' he would often proclaim to anyone who would listen.
"Oh, I'm sure Sophia and Anastashia would feel so fraking honored to be providing you the 'piece' Rogue!" chimed in Destiny from her viper positioned on Rogue's eight o'clock high position.
"Well sweet Kara, if we weren't in the same squadron I'd gladly bestow that honor upon you," lamented Mick, 'but alas…you know my personal policy of 'dipping one's pen in company ink."
"You keep telling yourself that Rogue, I'm sure it'll help you and your hand on those lonely nights in the rack." Laughed Destiny.
"Alright children, let's give it a rest, shall we? This is a new system, let's stay alert." Said Peacemaker over the comline. The patrol was scheduled for another six hours, and it was now on to planetoid number two.
Cylon Basestar – currently trailing just outside dradis range of the fleet.
Baltar's eyes slowly opened, the soft background hum of the Basestar now went completely unnoticed. Even the red pulsing lights at knee level of his spacious room did not draw his notice. He lay sprawled out on the four-post king-sized bed provided by his hosts. The room is furnished with replicas of 15th century Caprican furniture that Gaius was fond of. Reproductions of rare Colonial oil paintings now lost, adorned the metallic walls. His eyes fell upon a large painting of Mount Olympus, home of the gods.
The painting depicts various gods in the court of Zeus, most prominent being that of Zeus' sister Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth. Baltar always found that painting strange; Hestia was the virgin goddess with no distinct personality or major role in mythology. She was the most honorable and charitable of the gods, he wondered why his hosts chose that painting for his quarters; his attention shifted.
His companion shifted in the silk sheets, her naked body flawless, beautiful, and very warm to the touch. Her platinum blond hair cascaded across her shoulders, stopping just above the top of her perfect breasts. Gaius looked deeply into blue eyes that were the kind that you can look into and feel like you were getting lost. Caprica 6 had the most alluring eyes he had ever encountered in a woman. He felt that the eyes were a window to not only the soul, but also the ensemble of human emotion and that was more beautiful than words can describe. Caprica 6 was the love of his life, his guardian angel, but even he did not know if she was more human than Cylon construct.
"Gaius?" Even awakening from a sound sleep her voice was melodic, thought Baltar. He loved her, maybe not at first; that was pure lust. It was not until she revealed that she was a Cylon, and that with his help, she had been able to access the defense main frame to implant the virus that would allow Cylon warships to instantly disable and ultimately destroy Colonial defenses that Gaius had known her true strengths and ability. She physically saved his life from the shock wave generated by a nuclear detonation with her own life, hardly the act of an unthinking and cold machine.
From his escape from Caprica to now, she had been there for him, mostly in his thoughts and dreams. Now she was there in the flesh. He escaped from New Caprica with her help, but he could never return to the fleet. Like it or not, his fate and safety now resided with her and the Cylon Basestar he was aboard. He was well treated by most of the humanoid Cylons, only the Cavil model seemed to disdain him, but not even he dared to harm him.
"You slept well." He replied softly, kissing her ear. She smiled and ran her long fingers down his chest. He was instantly aroused, she smiled.
"Now where did we leave off?" she purred. Gaius had gently rolled her onto her back when he heard the distinctive metal on metal footsteps enter the room. The centurion hovered over the bed silently. Its red eye rotating back and forth, Six frowned…obviously the metallic construct, and humanoid successor were in communication on a non-verbal level. "You may leave us!" ordered the Six. The metallic monstrosity immediately obeyed.
"Problems?" queried Baltar.
"My presence is requested in the command and control center. Get dressed and join me my love. She slipped out of bed gracefully, over six feet tall she moved like the dancers in the Caprican Ballet that Baltar used to frequent in earlier times. Every move was poetry, and Gaius smiled. She slipped into a cream-colored outfit that accented every part of her body. She held aloft a long white robe with light blue sash for him to wear. Like most refuges from the exodus, Baltar escaped with the clothes on his back. Newly tailored clothes were difficult and expensive to obtain within the fleet. Aboard the Basestar, Gaius Baltar suffered no such restraints. Magnificent wardrobes were manufactured for him, he wanted for little. Was life here so terrible, he thought?
In a matter of moments, the two traversed the numerous identical hallways from Baltar's quarters to the command and control center of the Basestar. Baltar would never figure just how any of these people found anything on board the massive Cylon capital ship. Every hallway was identical. They entered the control room and approached the center of the room that contained the data-stream and interface basins. A six and Boomer model joined two Leoben models. Cavil stood to the side, arms across his chest with a smile across his face.
"Ah Dr. Baltar, so glad you could join us. I like the robe!" he stated sarcastically. Baltar ignored the snide comment and walked up to the cascading data-stream. It never failed to amaze him how fascinating Cylon technology was.
"What has happened?" asked Caprica 6.
Cavil stepped forward rubbing his hands together. "I am pleased to announce that we have finally secured the exact location of the renegade fleet. I think it's about time we've concluded our affairs."
Battlestar Pacifica – three months ago.
The Marine guard quickly stood aside from the rotating glass doors leading into the CIC making room for Culverhouse who was now slowing down from a full run. The ship was at "condition one" alert status. "Sit rep, Colonel!" demanded Culverhouse stepping up to the plotting table. Colonel T. Morlock's face was a mask of deep concern. Cylon fighters jumped in from nowhere and were now swarming all over the Battlestar.
"We've got bandits in our perimeter Admiral; Cylon raiders jumped in and took out our CAP in the opening attack. All squadrons are launching as we speak. The ship shuddered from various runs made by heavy raiders launching heavy missiles.
"What the hell? We're too far inside to be feeling the impacts from fighters." said Culverhouse gripping the edge of the table to balance himself. The CIC of a Colonial Battlestar was safely situated deep within the interior "alligator head" of the Battlestar, where the main hull meets the mid-ship section, for impacts to be felt the weapons must be powerful. The tactical officer spoke up.
"Sir, Cylon heavy raiders launching penetrator missiles from within the security envelope! Extensive damage to decks 11 through 20, section 22 through 50."
"Triple-A fire set to close quarter discharge, advise vipers to stand clear and take out what escapes the barrage." Ordered Culverhouse. Pacifica's point defense turrets reconfigured their firing solution and discharged a violent barrage of death at close quarter range. Viper pilots made sure they remained out of the firing solution and waited whatever heavy raider that desperately attempted to escape the latticework of death.
"Tactical, where the hell did they come from, is there a Basestar anywhere?"
"Nothing on Dradis, Admiral; the raiders just jumped in." replied the Tactical officer.
Morlock was getting damage reports over his earpiece, the ship was taking a pounding, but the close quarter firing of the point defense guns seemed to alleviate the onslaught. "Admiral, we have a hull breach in section 34 through 36 of deck 17. Crews sealed off the hatchways and report no loss of life."
Major Tamara Hawks rolled her viper just as the raider opened fire, barely escaping having her port wing sliced off. The fire was thick, and she barely missed running headlong into offensive fire from one of her own vipers. Raiders filled the sky, and the hopelessly outnumbered vipers were miraculously holding their own, but they could not hold out forever. As soon as Pacifica was spooled up to jump the recall order would come through, and every viper would have to make a combat landing through a wall of enemy fire.
"Widow Maker – Spoons…you've got a pair bearing down on you from two o'clock high!" the warning was just in time as she banked low and right letting the enemy craft fly over and past her. Two vipers lit up the offending raiders and Hawks looked over her shoulder to see one hell of a dogfight.
"All wings this is the CAG…don't venture out too far from Pacifica, as soon as the recall comes in you'd better all move your asses for the landing bays!" she warned. Her Dradis picked up a new signal. An enemy Basestar had just jumped into the area, just out of Pacifica's firing range.
"Enemy Basestar 126 carom 447, Admiral!" warned Tactical.
"Oh, this just keeps getting better, XO." said Culverhouse. It was only a matter of time before Cylon reinforcements arrived.
"FTL drives are spooled up, Admiral." Informed Morlock.
"Recall the air wing, Colonel. Let's get our planes back on board and get out of here!" The recall order was transmitted over the secured frequency, and Mk. VII vipers sped for the safety of the landing bay.
"Position of the Basestar, Colonel?"
"Holding position just outside of our effective firing range, Admiral." Culverhouse despised retreats, tactical or otherwise. If he was leaving, he was doing so on his terms.
"Tactical, I want a short jump, bring us alongside that Basestar and prepare to immediately jump to new standby coordinates." Ordered Culverhouse.
"We're attacking the Basestar?" said Morlock, more statement than question. The look on Mack Culverhouse's face spoke volumes, and Morlock realized he did not even need to ask that question in the first place.
"Affirmative XO, if we have to leave I'd like to take the damned Basestar out and leave those slit-eyed bastards without a place to land!" informed Mack. "Helm…the moment we come out of the jump I want you to roll us so that our topside batteries can give them a full spread!"
Widow Maker was the last to land, and she was relieved to learn she only lost six vipers, two assigned to the CAP, and four during the battle. She was expecting far worse, but her air wing came through. The Landing Signal Officer notified the CIC that the bays were secured, with that the ship vanished. It materialized off the port side of the Basestar and immediately rolled over to train her dorsal batteries from bow to stern onto the surprised Basestar. Pacifica's dradis picked up the immediate course change of the raiders they had just left, the Cylons were incredibly fast, but Pacifica had jumped right on top of the Basestar and targeted the missile launchers on the Y-shaped hull they were now facing.
"Extensive damage to Basestar's offensive batteries, Admiral!" reported Morlock. Basestars relied heavily on their Raiders for close-range gun defense. Since a Basestar does not appear to have point-defense batteries, or heavy armoring, it was vulnerable to Battlestars in close-range combat when fighter support is not prominent…which was presently the case.
"Pour it on XO, give those bastards a good taste of our artillery." Ordered Culverhouse. Pacifica rained down a withering barrage of fire from thirty plus primary dorsal cannons.
Morlock kept his eyes on the Dradis; the raiders had regrouped and were inbound to protect their Baseships. "Incoming raiders, three minutes out, Admiral!" advised the executive officer.
"Standby to jump!" The raiders were like an angered swarm of bees bearing down on their target. "Weapons…last chance to split the Basestar, I want a full spread pinpointed on the lower half of the center axis…execute!" ordered the Admiral. The primary cannons opened up and scored a perfect hit courtesy of the now-repaired targeting system in the offensive grid. The fissure started slowly at first, then traveled quickly up the vertical center axis connecting the two Y-shaped hulls.
"That's it folks, time to leave…jump!" Pacifica disappeared just as the Basestar exploded violently.
From the Culverhouse Journals:
The feeling of satisfaction has spread throughout every member of the ship, we destroyed a Basestar, leaving its raider compliment drifting dead in space. Even if they attempted to jump away, the chances of them reaching anything was remote. We may not have weakened their massive fleet, but we have put them on notice that we are not going to live on our knees but die on our feet fighting their oppression!
Fuel load is a concern presently, under old military operational protocols, there is no way a Battlestar commander would ever allow his ship to fall to such a dangerously low fuel level. Unfortunately, there are no fueling ships, or Colonial ground bases in existence anymore, and now we find ourselves raiding small enemy fueling depots, praying we have enough time to steal what we can before Cylon reinforcements arrive to protect their assets.
Food has not become a serious problem yet, we were able to raid a remote Colonial satellite power station that the Cylons had not found immediately after the attacks on the Colonies. One hundred personnel had been rescued, and thankfully, they had a full storage facility of foodstuffs and liquids, at least a year's supply. Aboard a fully staffed Colonial Battlestar, that year supply shrank to three months. We have been taking on algae from whatever habitable planets we come across to process and dry freeze it for future shortages.
Colonel Morlock and I have discussed our future, and we both have concluded that we must escape Colonial-charted known space and seek refuge far outside our own star system if our people are to have a chance to survive. May the Gods grant us their protection, and if they won't….frak em!