Chapter 7.
Battlestar Pacifica – day four of salvage operation of Battlestar Solaria.
Rear Admiral Mack Culverhouse paces his private quarters. Executive officer Tom Morlock sits quietly on the leather sofa, mug of Cancerian-brand coffee in hand.
"Four days now, XO. This op is taking too long, and I'm not liking it." Said Culverhouse directly.
"Admiral, the extraction of the vipers from their launch tubes is an operation we have never performed before. Just the opening of the top of the hanger bay into the landing deck itself was a two-day operation. The ship is powerless, and the wreckage so severe that we just cannot back the planes out and taxi them across the bay. We have been able to extricate four of the vipers, with three more expected by day's end. We still have to get them off surface." Replied Morlock calmly.
"If there are no unforeseen mechanical failures I see no reason why they can't power up and take off from the deck itself. We have enough heavy machinery to clear the landing deck and give them a clear shot. Granted it will be a very short take off, but they can do it without the catapults by disengaging the brakes under full turbos."
Both men knew that there was no ideal way to safely launch the extricated vipers, and there was not enough clearance for a Raptor to lift the vipers off the deck and out of the pod. They were going to have to make a straightway from the hole cut into the deck leading into the hanger bay to the end of the forward part of the flight pod's landing bay and pray that the vipers had enough of a runway to take off.
"I'm sure that Bill is wanting to clear this sector as soon as possible, so let's light a fire under their asses Tom…I want this op wrapped up soon."
"Understood." Replied Morlock.
Battlestar Galactica – Pilot's quarters.
Captain Matthew Lensherr rolled over in his bunk, his chest heaving as he breathed deeply. Beside him lay a very satisfied and naked Tari Adama. The hatch was locked down, with a brown regulation tee shirt draped over the latch to inform the other three bunk mates not to enter.
Tari propped herself up onto her elbows, her eyes sparkling from the glow of the candle in the dark stateroom Lensherr shared with the other three squadron leaders. The two had been rumored to be involved for some time, but both made every effort to keep their personal relationship quiet. After all, she was the Admiral's daughter, and junior in rank to Lensherr. "You know Hephaestus, Destiny once wondered what kind of lay you would be…I guess I can now confirm that you are a great fraking lay."
"Flattery will get you everywhere Ares." Countered Lensherr tracing his fingertips down her neck and over her breasts. "I doubt your father or Apollo wondered that though."
"My father would never say anything either way, Lee on the other hand would most likely want to beat you to a pulp."
"Lee needs to pull the staff from his ass and loosen up." The two shared a laugh and lay in bed for another hour before Ares was due to go on duty. She pulled on her underwear, and Matt stared at the scars that desecrated her body. Pegasus' Lieutenant Thorne did a horrific job on Tari while interrogating her for being a suspected Cylon. How anyone could have remained sane on that ship after such treatment perplexed him. It took Tari a long time to even partially open up to him, and he was determined not to push her for more than she was ready to give.
"I wish you didn't have to leave…" began Lensherr. She quickly pressed her fingertip to his lips to cut him off. She then reached down and gently kissed him goodbye. She retrieved her boots and exited the stateroom without a word.
After a moment, the hatch door opened up and in stepped Starbuck. Blue squadron's leader just peered down at Lensherr who was still in bed and smiled. She plopped down next to a surprised Lensherr and peered deep into his eyes. "Do I have to take a number or can we frak now?" teased Kara.
"I'll have to think about that!" laughed Lensherr as he flipped on the light attached to the bottom of the bunk above him. Kara sat up and pulled out a fumarello, she lit it and passed it to Lensherr who also sat up."
Kara gestured to his still naked body. "You gonna put that bad boy away, Heph? The last thing we need is for someone to walk in, you wouldn't want the old man's little princess to get jealous.
"I can't imagine Tari getting jealous about anything, but you're right…so unfair of me to tease you like that." Said Lensherr as he pulled the sheets over his waist. "So, what's the status planet-side?"
"Well rumor mill has it that Culverhouse his shoving his foot in the salvage team's asses to speed them along. They've been able to offload 7 vipers from the launch tubes, and hopefully they're flight worthy. I hear that the vipers in the tubes still had pilots in the cockpit."
"They must have been preparing to launch when they crashed. I hear that they found remains of pilots and knuckle-draggers scattered all around the hanger. Those poor bastards probably never saw the impact coming." Said Lensherr exhaling the sweet smoke of the fumarello.
"Well as much as I feel badly for those poor bastards, that full squadron of Mk VII's are a fraking miracle. Hopefully they're still flight worthy, though I can't see why they wouldn't be, they were locked into their tubes." Said Starbuck getting off Lensherr's bunk and stretching out on her own bunk.
Lensherr stood up and pulled on sweatpants, he was off duty for the remainder of the day, so he decided to head over to the gym to work out. As he exited the state room he heard Starbuck call out "can't you shut that fraking light off, Lensherr?"
Command and Control Center aboard Cylon Basestar.
Dr. Gauis Baltar marveled at the technology, never failing to be impressed by it no matter how long he remained a "guest" aboard the Cylon warship now cruising the cosmos in search of the fleeing human fleet. The jump drive was far superior to the Colonial's jump technology. He barely grasped the intricacies, even when walked through it by Caprica 6. Leoben stepped up beside him, studying the human intently.
"Quite superior to your technology, isn't it doctor?" Leoben never failed in unnerving Baltar whenever he was about. There was something about his model that simultaneously terrified and intrigued Baltar. Cavil was purely dangerous, there was no doubt that to him a good human was a dead human. Simon and Doral models were interesting, and he felt most at ease around the female models. Leoben however was an enigma to him. More prophet than human-hater, Leoben had taken a personal interest in Kara Thrace when they were on New Caprica, locking her away in a prison cell in name only. He kept her well fed, well clothed and in luxurious settings that had one means of egress that was locked. Baltar was unsure if Leoben's attraction to Thrace was that of love, worship, or something else. He knew that Leoben told Kara she had a 'destiny,' but not much else.
"Undoubtedly superior, what a shame though that human and Cylon couldn't coexist peacefully, I would say that between our two races there would be very little we couldn't accomplish if we worked together." Said Baltar looking straight into Leoben's eyes. Leoben cocked his head slightly, and Baltar could swear he detected a faint smile creasing the Cylon's lips.
"Indeed? Perhaps you could extend that olive branch to the humans on our behalf." Said Leoben.
"If I was a betting man I would wager the 'olive branch' would still be clutched in his hands when Adama and his ilk tossed the good doctor out the nearest airlock." Came the voice of Cavil from behind.
From the Adama Journals:
The salvage teams are approaching their drop-dead time for cessation of operations at the remains of the Battlestar Solaria we found on the planet in this sector. Admiral Culverhouse is scrutinizing Commander Mason's logbooks, and technicians are attempting to retrieve information from the hard drives in the tactical station's computers.
I've made clear my intentions to Admiral Culverhouse to remain on station for as little time as possible to avoid discovery from the Cylons, he has impressed upon his people to make haste. A fully functioning viper squadron was retrieved from the Solaria; apparently, the squadron was prepared to launch when the Solaria crashed. The Mk. VII vipers with their pilots still strapped into the seats were firmly secured into the launch tube catapults, I must assume that likely prevented the vipers from being dislodged at destructive velocity when they crashed.
Admiral Culverhouse had an autopsy performed on the pilots to determine cause of death. It was determined that the violent and sudden deceleration caused massive, intra-cranial trauma in the pilots. Death was immediate. The pilots will be given a proper Colonial space burial upon our departure from this system; the remaining crew compliment will remain entombed within the Solaria.
Undamaged artillery has been secured and divided evenly between Galactica and Pacifica. What viper parts could be salvaged has already been taken off planet, and it looks like we have salvaged all that we can. It is time to depart.
Mack Culverhouse stepped through the doors of the CIC and walked directly to where his executive officer was positioned, Colonel Morlock was leafing through reports at the plotting table.
"Admiral has the deck!" said Morlock loudly when he noticed the admiral arrive.
"Sitrep XO?"
"Surface crews have returned, and the flight deck is secured. Raptor seven is assigned to remain on station for six hours to check for Cylon pursuit."
"Alright, prepare the ship for departure, and notify Galactica that we are ready to depart."
One by one, the ships of the Colonial civilian fleet jumped away, after holding position to guard the rear, Pacifica soon disappears in a blinding flash.
Port hanger bay – Battlestar Galactica.
Chief Tyrol had just finished inspecting viper 7221, like the other 9 vipers formerly from Solaria they were evenly divided between the two remaining Battlestars and needed to have a more thorough inspection of their critical components.
Quite a few Galactica pilots were loitering around, all with hopes of being assigned near-mint Mk. VII vipers. It had been a long time since any of them had strapped themselves in to fighters that were not cobbled together with spare parts, or barely held together with spit and bailing wire. Falcon was sitting on the nose of an out of service Mk. II viper; he eyeballed the sleek star-fighter before him.
"What's the verdict, Chief?" asked Tony, sliding off the nose onto the deck.
Galen Tyrol just shook his head and replied, "You guys are a bunch of fraking vultures. Did any of you even wait for them to remove the poor bastards that were still strapped in the cockpits? I'm sure the CAG will reassign them when he's ready."
Tony just laughed and ran his hand over the starboard 30mm cannon. "These things never saw any combat; can you imagine that? Near mint condition."
"Well the bright side is that we've added to the air wing, and there are enough spare parts to resupply our stores." Said Tyrol returning his attention to the clipboard in his hands.
Lt. Mark "Nightstalker" Sarnex also was in the hanger, he was checking over his own viper in preparation for his scheduled patrol with Hephaestus.
"So, who do you think we've got to bribe to land one of these beauties, Tony?" asked Mark.
"Sadly, I think Apollo is too honest to take a bribe. My guess is lottery, but the obvious choice would be to replace the 5 worst vipers we have in service." Said Tony. "By the way…how's the steam burn?"
"Ah Falcon, there will be a reckoning for your fellow Dragon, that I can assure you!"
"Reckonings can wait my friend." Came a new voice.
"Ah Hephaestus, right on schedule." Said Sarnex. The two men walked to their assigned vipers to do their preflight checks. Tony Bastain stepped up to Lensherr's viper.
"You realize that Nightstalker is going to pound the fraking hell out of Ghostrider at some point, don't you?" said Bastain quietly. Matt just smiled and turned to face Falcon.
"Tony, those two have had it in for each other since day one, frak em…I'm not Nightstalker's keeper. If it was up to me I'd throw both of their asses into the ring and see who walks out." Falcon pulled a brass flask from his jacket pocket and took a discreet sip from it, slipping it back into his jacket he wished Hephaestus 'good hunting' and exited the hanger.
After being loaded into the launch tube, the large metal doors seal shut. Lensherr glances out the right side of the cockpit to face the launch supervisor.
"All instruments read green…fuel pressure nominal." Says Lensherr over the comline.
"Maglock secure, initiating launch sequence…you are now clear to launch Hephaestus." Said the launch supervisor as he moved his hand towards the launch button that would activate the catapult, hurling the viper down the tubes and out into space. Lensherr nodded, and he was soon sent down range. The same procedure was followed in the next launch tube over with Nightstalker.
Viper 1139 roared down the launch tube and out into space. Captain Matthew Lensherr was putting serious distance between himself and 'the bucket.' It was not long before his wing-man, and fellow CAP flier was at his side.
"Peacemaker – Hephaestus…you and Ares are formally relieved from CAP, go grab some rack time!"
"Hephaestus – Peacemaker…message received and thank you sir. Red Aces are bucket-bound and off duty." Said Red Aces squadron leader Captain Jon Horlach. Ares wiggled the wings of her viper, a private gesture to her lover Matt Lensherr.
The two pilots from Silver Spar squadron settled in for their assigned CAP, and Nightstalker switched over to a private frequency. "So, are you going to tell your old friend and ASL what is going on between you and the Admiral's daughter?"
"Nosy little fraker, aren't you?" laughed Lensherr clearly not providing his old friend an answer either way. Sarnex knew Matt Lensherr well enough to realize that was all he would get on the subject.
The two veteran pilots continued for the remainder of their assigned CAP talking shop and exchanging ideas on various subjects. They glided in perfect unison between civilian ships, keeping a watchful eye on their dradis.
Back on board Galactica, Lt. Steve "Photon" Parsec slides the curtain back on his bunk to let fellow viper pilot Jen "Lucky" Teal slide out. She pulled her black tank top on and reached for her pants that lay in a crumpled heap on the deck.
"Will I see you later babe?" asked Photon.
"After a fraking like that, you have to ask? Better build that stamina of your up pretty boy, I'll expect an encore at 2030 hours." Said Teal as she exited the pilot's quarters. Photon pulled on a set of utilities and made his way to the head for a shower and shave.
The tall man navigated the catacombs of Pacifica's engineering section like a seasoned snipe, a term used by the Colonial military to refer to an engineer. He was indeed a seasoned snipe, aboard Pacifica when the attacks broke out, and served aboard her as she launched guerrilla tactics on the Cylon forces it encountered since the fall of the colonies and reuniting with the remnants of the twelve worlds under the protection of the Galactica. His fellow crewmates like him very much, he is known for speaking calmly and purposefully, always using logic to make his point.
He enters the small hatch and walks straight over to the counter to pour himself a cup of coffee from the urn. Two other engineers sit at a table eating their lunch.
"Well if it isn't the wraith," teased one of the engineers referring to the newcomer. "Climbing out of the bowels of the ship for the briefest of moments to bask in what passes for light aboard a Battlestar?"
"You exaggerate my friend…you see me far more often than that!" he countered.
"Not by much, it's like you're almost hiding from something…you're not a fraking Cylon are you?" laughed the short, portly man wiping his lunch off his chin with his greasy shirtsleeve.
"Okay, you've discovered my secret…I'm a toaster!" he said putting his hands above his head in mock surrender. "You do realize that out of the three of us I have the most essential job in our department. The equipment demands my strictest scrutiny at all times, and I only dream of being able to go topside and mingle with those outside our own ship." He said laughing while sitting down at the far end of the table.
"I'll grant you that, but seriously…do yourself a favor, get the hell out of the pit occasionally, relax and enjoy what passes for life. The dark recesses of Pacifica's engine room aren't doing your complexion any favors."
"My complexion…?" he rolled his eyes and smiled. "I doubt there is anything that will improve it." He replied. The two men soon finished their lunch and returned to their duty leaving the tall man alone with his thoughts.
Pilot's rec room – Battlestar Galactica
The room was filled with fumarello smoke and laughter. In the far corner contained a makeshift pyramid x goal that was being used by Becky "Vixon" Zathras, Tony "Falcon" Bastain, Dylan "Ghostrider" Wolfe, and Kara "Destiny" Fan. Nothing resembling what a regulation sized pyramid arena would look like, but all they had in such cramped quarters.
A triad game was taking place in the opposite corner, the players consisting of Kara "Starbuck" Thrace, Tari "Ares" Adama, Sophia "Tomboy" Omega, Karl "Helo" Agathon, and Jon "Peacemaker" Horlach. Smaller tables contained other viper and raptor pilots drinking, smoking and conversing with each other.
Nina "Betty" Nintius sat on the table with a full view of the room, behind her stood Warren "Eagle One" Rucks massaging her neck and shoulders. She was enjoying it immensely. "You realize you're not getting fraked for this, just so you know." Joked Nintius.
"Hey, I'll settle for a 'helping hand' as a fee for services rendered." Replied Rucks.
"I'll give it serious consideration dear, now a little lower to the left, won't you?"
Vixon just completed her final throw and then turned to fellow Dragon Ghostrider. "So, were you the one on the steam switch?" she asked with a wide grin.
"Don't know what you're talking about Vix." Said Wolfe unconvincingly.
Vixon leaned in close; her near see-through white tank had been drawing welcome attention for the last few hours, now she was using it to gain the attention of Ghostrider who happily complied. Vixon's breasts gently brushed against Wolfe's shoulder as she whispered in his ear.
"Come on…everyone knows that Nightstalker had it coming to him; smug, arrogant, and insufferable when it comes to women are the least of his negatives." Becky gently flicked her tongue into his ear and smiled at the intended results manifesting itself lower down in his extremities.
"Care to get out of here, Vix and I'll give you the answers you're looking for?" suggested Ghostrider. Becky smiled and pulled Ghostrider out the door by his waistband. They disappeared down the hall and into a storage locker unofficially reserved for what Destiny coined "frak rooms.'
Starbuck noticed the two skip out of the room and arched her eyebrow. Her first inclination was that no good was going to eventually come from this, both individuals relished stirring the felgercarb, and whenever there was a problem, either or both were usually involved. She tossed back the contents of her shot glass and returned her attention to the game, and her soon-to-be victims.