Chapter 5. Lost and Found
Freighter Bill Thurston 12 – Bridge
Eyes focused on the ceiling-mounted DRADIS display, Captain Davenport hadn't moved from the plotting table since they began their foolhardy recon of the Helios Beta Star System. "Mr. Banners, please confirm position and time."
Parah had not left the plotting table either and was standing across from her. Scowling, he looked her in the eye, shaking his head slightly as he listened to the young officer confirm their location. "You know you're gonna get us killed, Rebecca," he said quietly.
"We can jump out of here before the Cylons get too close." Rebecca knew that despite his arrogance, his insubordination, and his pleading otherwise, Parah was a Colonial Officer through and through. She knew that in the end, his pride would demand him to do everything in his power. To help defend his fellow service members.
His gaze softening a bit, "Yeah, but you do know the easy part is over, right?" Leaning over the plotting table, he began tapping their projected course. "We've been at this a little over two hours now, even with this zig-zag course, we're starting to get in system. It won't be too long before we're seen, and when someone comes over for a look-see…"
Nodding her head reluctantly, she answered "Yeah, hopefully, we'll find someone or at least grab supplies before we have to bug out."
Viper 7521 – Helios Beta System
Derek's head throbbed, his eyes were pressed closed. Not that it mattered everything was dark anyway. He had nearly thrown up the last time he opened them, mistakenly focusing on the dark control panels in front of him. Damn concussion. Grimacing, he opened his eyes slowly, expecting a wave of nausea to overwhelm him. It didn't come. Instead he found himself staring into the dark void. "Now what?" he said to himself. Limited O2, drifting out of system, he would only too soon be joining his shipmates in the afterlife. He thought of his daughter and his wife. He hoped they were safe, that the Cylons hadn't destroyed Caprica too. Grief overtook him, his fear, pain, and sorrow culminating in body-shaking sobs. Tiring, his sobs turned to moans, and finally spent, he fell into a fit full sleep.
Freighter Bill Thurston 12- Bridge
"Captain, I may have something on DRADIS," the helmsman called out from his station.
Quickly turning her attention to the DRADIS screen, Rebecca frowned at the highlighted object drifting in front of them. The sensor data had resolved substantially in the last half hour, revealing an even greater catastrophe than feared. From this range they were able to distinguish several entire Battlestar Groups in ruins near the planet. "Looks like more debris," she commented, manually adjusting the sensor feeds.
"I think this one may be worth a second look, Skipper." Parah commented as he scrutinized the display. With his Captain's full attention now, he began calling up data from the sensor focus he performed, "Well, the size and mass are spot on for a Viper, it's intact, and its course and speed have it originating from the same location that one of our Battle Groups was destroyed at."
"Show me," she replied, chewing on the grease pen that she had been using to update the hopelessly chaotic charts. Her bright brown eyes poured over the sensor data before she reviewed the simulation analysis. It was a long shot, she thought. Grabbing a fresh overlay, she began furiously scribbling coordinates, velocity measurements, gravitational constants, and other data points she would need to solve the necessary equations. Equations which would tell her if there was any chance that this seemingly random bit of drifting debris could in fact be much more than its simple appearance. She stared at the solution circled at the bottom of the jumble of numbers. Her face relaxed slightly. The intensity on her eyes diminished, but their brightness remained, and a small smile tugged at her lips. "Less than 2% likely Parah," she breathed out easily.
Parah stood there quietly for a moment, allowing the fleeting moment of respite to pass. "Like I said, worth a second a look, Captain" he replied earnestly.
Rebecca grimaced slightly, "I agree, let's check this out." She paused a moment, drawing a line that would intercept the contact. "Parah, get the Grapplers warmed. We're gonna need Tony and Marsha to check this thing out once we get close." She watched her Chief Mate hurry back to his station with a determination she had never seen before. She transferred the data from the plotting table before returning to the center seat. "Mr. Evans, bring us to a complete stop." Pausing, she addressed the Navigator, "Mr. Banners plot a course to intercept the object designated Bogey 1".
It took a few minutes for the large ship to come to a full stop, by which time the new course had been set and loaded into both the navigation and helm systems. Slowly the freighter rotated to its new vector, and with a brilliant flare from the eight aft engines, the behemoth slowly began to lumber towards a point in front of the unknown wreckage that they were tracking.
Grappler 1- approaching object
Essentially a large three-fingered claw with two stern engine pods and an offset cockpit, the Grappler was neither swift nor graceful. Still, Tony gripped the controls tightly as he pushed his awkward vehicle as fast as it would take him. His eyes focused on the DRADIS screen in front of him as he counted down the distance and time from the unknown object to which he was headed. An audible alarm beeped once. "500 meters from target," he called out. He engaged his braking thrusters and quickly reduced his forward velocity by a third. Looking out the cockpit now, he flipped on the floodlights and began scanning the ink like blackness.
"I See It! At your 5 O-Clock low!" Marsha's voice reported through the wireless.
Craning his head down and to the right, he scanned the area indicated by his colleague. "I see it now, definitely a Viper." Tony confirmed, quickly adjusting his ship's heading to close in on it from behind. Illuminated by his flood lights, Tony began visually scanning the Viper while bringing the articulated arms of his craft online. Relative to its course, the ship was moving cock–eyed in a nose down orientation, the ventral surfaces were facing forward. At least it wasn't spinning, he thought. Still, getting a clean grab on a moving target with no navigation lights was going to be difficult. He took his time getting behind the Viper, being sure to match the damaged ship's orientation and course exactly. "Grappler 1 to Skipper, I am in position, proceeding with capture now."
Rebecca's terse voice responded "Acknowledged Tony. Be quick about it, you've got our asses hanging in the wind out here".
Viper 7521 – drifting in Helios Beta Star System
"What the Frack?!" Derek woke with a start as his Viper lurched to the left. He squeezed his eyelids tight briefly; a bright light shone from behind illuminating the outside of his plane. Attached to the dorsum of his Viper's long nose and curving above and behind him, was a scratched and pitted white steel boom. Looking out of his cockpit, he saw an additional arm on each side. Nearly overcome by vertigo, he was suddenly pressed hard into the right side of his seat as his Viper rapidly slowed and then abruptly tipped up and spun counter-clockwise.
He kept his eyes closed while taking several deep breaths as he adjusted to his new situation. Quickly flipping several switches, he attempted to restart his craft to no avail. Assuming he was being taken prisoner by Cylons, he quickly reached into a compartment next to his left thigh, readying his fire-arm and then grabbing a syringe with enough sodium cyanide to end his life quickly. With grim awareness of what was likely ahead, he sat back and looked out of the canopy at the countless stars before him. "There!" he cried out, noticing a blinking pattern of navigational lights at his 10 O'clock high. He jumped when several floodlights lit up large expanses of the ship, laughing out loud when he saw a kilometer long cigar shaped vessel in front of him. With a ray-like wing on each side of the rear quarter, and eight large engine pods at the stern, the massive inter-system freighter filled his eyes with unexpected hope. Releasing a sigh of relief, he quickly put away the suicide needle and hand gun. Reaching for a compartment below, he pulled and twisted a lever out of the floor board. Shifting slightly against his flight harness, he put his foot on top of the pedal and began to pump up and down, manually lowering his plane's landing gear. After a labored five minutes he felt the gear click into place. Bending over, he twisted the lever back before re-stowing it.
Exhausted and nauseous, Derek closed his eyes as his plane was slowly towed inside the cargo ship. His Viper settled to the deck with a sharp thud, jarring him to his senses. With a sudden panic, he grabbed his fire-arm, searching the crowded cargo bay for Cylons. Seeing nothing suspicious, he scanned the hangar thru his canopy more carefully. It was a brightly lit space, with just enough room on the deck to squeeze his Viper in with four lifeboats and a Grappler Utility Craft; quite possibly the one that brought him on board. Looking down he saw two men dressed in bright orange coveralls approaching his plane with a rolling stair case. A third man followed, barrel chested with greasy brown hair covering a ruddy mustached face, his lite duty flight suit distinguishing him as the Grappler pilot that had brought him aboard.
He had just found a hatch leading into the ship when he heard the staircase clang against the side of his Viper. Quickly working to unstrap the flight harness as well as the various life support and data cables connecting him to his plane, he made sure that his fire-arm was within easy reach. He paused as his fingers found the collar release under his helmet. Better to leave it on he thought. He popped his canopy, and after a final look around the hangar bay, pistol in hand, he stood up and began to swing onto the stairs. He closed his eyes as a tsunami of dizziness and nausea overwhelmed him. Retching violently, arms flailing for any purchase, he felt his body collapse and fall as he blacked out.
Freighter Bill Thurston 12 – Bridge
"Very good; be sure to keep us updated, Doc." With a click, Parah set the phone back in its base. Turning to face his Captain he began his report, "Both Grapplers and the Viper we picked up are secured. Nurse Harris reports that the pilot we picked up," he paused to check the notes at his station, "a Captain Derek Robinaux, is being treated for dehydration and a mild concussion. He should be up and moving in an hour or so." With a chuckle he quickly added, "He's lucky Mike was standing under him when he fell off his bird."
Looking down at the map on the plotting table below her, Rebecca sighed quietly as she contemplated whether they should make their escape or continue to press their luck moving further in system. Turning to Parah, who had joined her at the plotting table, the expression on his face clearly showed the same debate being fiercely argued in his mind. "Let's stay here a little longer, see if any of those contacts noticed us. If not, then we can push on." She began silently counting the seconds, waiting for a curt protest from her X.O. Hearing none, she looked up, before continuing, "All right, first thing we need is better intel." Ignoring the quizzical expression on Parah's face, she quickly picked up the phone, depressing a key on the handset.
"Engineering, Naiman," the brusque voice identified itself to her.
"Reese, I need you to get the wireless set and recorder out of that Viper, and then patch it into our com-system here on the bridge," she quickly stated.
"We should be able to get it hooked up in half hour," he replied.
"Then better get a move on," she answered before closing the line.
"You know that's CDF property Rebecca," Parah stated as she set the phone back in its receiver.
With a slightly aggravated expression she sarcastically quipped "Well, as I see it, 90% of ownership is possession, and that Viper is in our hold." She paused a second, a conniving smile just forming. Turning back to the plotting table, she and Parah began to refine the course they had previously set.
It took a few minutes longer than the thirty that had been predicted to hook up the military wireless set to their com system. With relatively little DRADIS activity in the last twenty minutes, she had decided to resume their search and rescue mission. Their course was taking them towards a new set of contacts, contacts which were much closer to the combat zone.
Hovering over the wireless set, Rebecca scowled at the connections before shaking her head in frustration. "Well Marel, are we receiving?"
Marel looked back at her, the normally pensive expression he wore seemingly magnified a hundred times since the news of the attack. "Yeah, Boss, signal frequency is clear, we are receiving." He paused, "I am also downloading several messages that were stored on the Viper's Wireless Recorder."
"Great, so the wireless set is working. We just can't access any of the transmissions," she replied tapping lightly at the red LED on the wireless display,
"Yes ma'am, transmissions on this set are password protected"
Turning to Parah she lightly quipped, "Seems CDF would agree with you." She paused a moment before addressing the bridge crew, "Alright then, we carry on folks."