Chapter 7. Hurricane Hole
Archeron Asteroid Belt, Helios Gamma Star System
Obscured by gray and black clouds, with flashes of brilliant reds, yellows and oranges, Sagittaron hung across the void from them, pleading for mercy. Rebecca sat heavily in her chair. Her home was dying, her family and friends no doubt already dead, and there was nothing she could do about it. Four Cylon Basestars held station between the planet and her ship, a regular stream of small ships were buzzing between the malevolent leviathans and the sickly planet below. Studying the Basestars, Rebecca couldn't help but be caught by their elegant design, two sets of three long arms extended from a central axis, connected by a short and graceful neck. Cursing them in her parent's tongue, she hung her head in defeat.
Sitting quietly in the First Mate's chair, Derek waited quietly as the shock rolled over the crew of the small bridge. Feeling distinctly out of place, he watched the activity in Cargo Hold Five pick up as the crew recovered from the FTL Jump. The listlessness of the bridge finally grating his nerves to the point of exasperation, he stood up and headed to the Nav-Com station. "Hey Marel, can you page the nurse to Cargo Hold 5, the deck crew is up and they are going to need her assistance."
"What?" Slack-jawed, Marel looked directly at Derek before turning his attention to Rebecca. "Uh, Skip?" he asked.
Lifting her head slightly, she fixed Marel with a pained expression, dismissively waving her hand at him, "Yeah, fine" she replied in a tired voice.
Watching the Captain's head sink back into her hands, Derek knew someone had to take control. Physically taking Marel by the shoulders and gently turning him, he looked directly into the Navigator's eyes. "Marel, everyone on this ship is depending on you right now, understood?"
"Uh, yeah." He muttered quietly, blank eyes staring back.
Dropping his head momentarily, Derek refocused on the scared young man, "Marel, we need you, now. Can you do this, son?" He waited for the officer's response, prepared to take over the Nav-Com station if necessary.
Nodding his head affirmatively, Marel met Derek's gaze, his eyes hard and serious, "Yes, Sir."
"Good." Derek paused, looking over at Rebecca. She was watching him now, but still to shell-shocked to effectively command her ship. "Alright, Mr. Banners, I need you to plot a jump to Ragnar Anchorage."
His face twisting in an uncomfortable grimace, Marel actually recoiled at the destination suggested by the refugee. "Ragnar…" he paused for a second, "No, the Captain already told you that were not meeting up with your fleet there." He looked away, and then turned back to the upstart Colonial Warrior, "And that's that" he added, to bring the matter to a close.
"Look, dammit," Derek began, "When the Cylons find us, we will need to leave here, and Ragnar is currently the safest port in the colonies." Now looking back to Rebecca, "This is your ship and you are the Captain. Right now, having a safe port ready to jump to in case of an emergency is the best and most prudent course of action." He waited as the Navigator slowly turned to face his Captain. Closing her eyes, she slowly nodded her assent.
With all of the bridge crew focused on him, Derek took a step back from the Nav-Com Station. "Mr. Banners, please relay the com traffic to Parah's station, then plot the jump."
With just a hint of sarcasm Marel responded, "Yes, sir."
Walking back to Parah's station, Derek ignored the three sets of eyes staring at the back of his head. He really hadn't wanted to take command; he just needed to ignite a spark. He had just slipped on the headphones to monitor the com traffic when Rebecca's caustic voice called out.
"You're from Caprica, aren't you?" It was more of an accusation.
He looked back at her, a smug smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, "Yeah, mostly."
"Thought so; assholes from the capital always seem to think they own everything," she replied, looking at him with cold eyes.
Trying to lighten the mood, Derek responded kiddingly, "Yeah, I guess we do."
Rebecca's eyes never left him, her spine stiffened and her lips pulled back in a tight scowl, "Well as this is my ship. I think I'll take over from here. That is, if you're done bossin' around my people."
"Gladly, Captain." Derek started to slip the headset back on.
"I've got the comms. Why don't you take yourself over to Hold 5? I'm sure they could use an extra set of hands down there." She directed Derek in a cold and sarcastic tone.
Confident that Rebecca was back, he stood up to leave. "Right away, ma'am."
"Don't try that shit with Parah, he's much more sensitive than I am," she offered as Derek left the cabin. Hearing the hatch close behind him, Rebecca sighed. Looking over the bridge and the rest of the crew staring at her, she spat out, "Get to work, dammit! Marel, make sure you have me check your jump calculations before you enter them into the computer." Turning away from them, she deliberately picked up the headset and slipped it on.
Bill Thurston 12 – Cargo Hold 5
Parah had unlatched his safety belt and was pushing through the control room and into the cargo bay proper even before the intercom had announced the completion of the jump. Grabbing a rifle from the safe, he quickly made his way towards the rescued craft. Marsha was waiting for him in front of the Vipers, hands on her hips, quietly cursing to herself. The Vipers and the Raptor were horribly mangled, leaving no chance for survivors. The nose cone of the first Viper had been nearly torn off. The canopy and dorsal stabilizer were both gone. Climbing up the ladder Parah blanched as he saw the now headless pilot strapped inside. The expression on his eyes confirmed to the deck crew what they already knew. Standing to his full height he waited for the activity on the deck to stop. With the worker's attention now on him, he cleared his throat twice. "Attention, everyone!" He paused a moment before continuing; "As you all can see, we have a lot of boats to go through here. Unfortunately, the Vipers and Raptor are both losses, so we are going to start with the life pods. We are going to start with the ones in the best condition, and we are going to do one at a time." He paused as he watched Nurse Harris come into the Cargo Hold. "Swenson and Park, I need you guys to pop these cans open, Roberts and Alcalah, you two are going to assist Nurse Harris with the refugees." Turning his head to an olive skinned man of average height, "Campara, you are going to record names, dates of birth, and homeports for each person we bring out. Micheals and Booeth," he paused again looking for the two deckhands, "you two are assisting me with security. Now, let's get this set up."
Passing through the hatch, Derek could see the deck crew busily working at one of the life pods on the far side of the cargo hold. Parah and a second crewman, both armed with rifles, stood at the square airlock, while Nurse Harris and the others checked on the crew inside. In the forward section, a small group of people milled around, standing or sitting on the floor. Derek set his jaw as he approached the bullet shaped life pod. Its entire surface was streaked with black marks. Small burnt out pits pock marked the bow of the ship. He had just arrived when Nurse Harris came out of the hatch.
Tired and withdrawn, Spera shook her head as she reported to Parah outside. "That's another fifteen Chief, asphyxiation and exposure."
"Damn." Turning to Derek as he approached, "What can I do for you, Captain?"
"I'm here to lend a hand, Chief. Captain wanted me off the bridge."
Chuckling slightly with a knowing smile, Parah looked up at Derek, "Right." He paused, turning towards the cluster of people gathered at the far wall, he pointed at the crewman with them. "Go help out Campara over there." Now looking at Derek, "He's organizing the survivors."
Nodding, Derek headed towards the loosely organized group of people. Mike Campara stood in the middle, clipboard in hand as he talked to one of the survivors, a young enlisted crewman. "Excuse me, Mike?" He paused for a second, waiting for the stout crewman to turn to him. "Parah sent me over to help out. You got an extra clipboard?"
"Yeah, over there," he pointed to a desk along the wall.
Returning with the clipboard, Derek went back to Mike, "Okay, so who needs to be interviewed still?"
Holding still, he scanned the crowd back and forth, "Well, let's see, I've talked to most of the folks here already, only about 6 left I think, maybe a couple more."
"Got it." Derek sighed inwardly, "Okay everyone. If you have already talked to Mr. Campara here, please move to the wall over there by the desk. If you haven't been interviewed yet, remain where you are and either he or I will be with you shortly." Derek waited for the people to organize themselves. Surveying the crowd, Derek observed that the survivors were mostly uninjured, but clearly in shock. Scratching his head, he watched the majority of them congregate near the desk. Turning back to the remaining group, he began looking for an officer amongst them. Scanning the crowd several times and finding none, he walked up to an enlisted man sitting on the deck. Thin and pale, with dull brown hair and sullen blue eyes, Derek squatted next to the young man. "Are you injured?" he asked, attempting to make eye contact.
"No." the man said, without turning his head.
"What ship were you on?"
Turning his head to face Derek, he answered quietly, "Battlestar Promptus, BSG 113."
"That's a Valkyrie class, correct?" Derek waited for the man to nod in assent. "I also need your name, rank, position on ship, home colony and date of birth." The interview only took a couple minutes, but sensing that the young man needed to unburden himself, Derek let him talk.
Airman John Taylor was a local boy, born and raised on Libra. He had always dreamed of joining the fleet and becoming a proud warrior defending the colonies. Unfortunately, poor grades and brushes with the law had prevented him from becoming an officer. Despite his position, he and his sweetheart were both proud the day he got his commission and posting as a cook on the Battlestar. The Promptus had been undergoing a refit at the Libran Shipyards when the attack began. Rushed into service, the ship had been one of the first on scene and had set the initial picket at the Ouranos Belt. It was a short battle and the crew man didn't know much, only that within just a few minutes there had been several explosions, and then the Commander had ordered all non-essential personnel to evacuate. The pod had shot out of the Battlestar, racing towards Virgon when it was severely buffeted several times before suddenly going dark. "No instruments, no power, drifting, we knew we only had a couple hours of Oxygen."
Patting the grieving man on the shoulder, quietly Derek assured him, "You're all right now son, we got you." Helping the man stand up, Derek walked him towards the other survivors, stopping when he reached the wall. Derek watched the man slump to the deck in a pile.
A young woman, also enlisted, sat next to John, rubbing his shoulders, consoling him. She looked up at Derek, a pained expression on her face, "He just got engaged, this morning in fact. His family was celebrating at his mother's house in Sage."
Grimacing, Derek stood there for a second, "Lot of that today. I'm sorry." He started to leave, but stopped, catching the young woman's attention, "Were there any officers in your life pod?"
Shaking her head, "No, the officers were needed on the ship. Enlisted and a few civilians only."
Derek was interviewing a haggard woman, a specialist in the Quartermaster department, when he heard people shouting from across the Cargo Hold. Looking over, three of the Thurston's crewman were pointing their rifles at a group of survivors coming out of an airlock. Checking to make sure that he had the woman's information, he dismissed her to join the other survivors at the far wall. Waving his hand he called out to his makeshift crew-mate, "Mike, I'll be back in a minute." Not waiting for a response he strode towards the commotion.
With the barrel of his handgun leveled at Parah's head, the refugee's shock black and greasy hair matched the maniacal glint in his eyes. "I'm not taking orders from you gods-dammit! We're at war, and I am commandeering this ship for the Colonial Fleet! Now lower your weapons and then you can take me to the bridge."
"For the last time… Put your gun down, or so help me, I will put you on your back!" Parah's voice boomed across the hold.
The young man's face contorted in anger, "No, you listen to me! There is a war on, now shut the Frack up and take me to the bridge!"
Derek was now jogging to the life pod. Stepping next to Parah, he pulled his dog tags up, which had been hanging on his neck. Holding it for the bewildered soldier to see he barked, "Stand down, Specialist!"
"Who the Frack are you?!" He yelled, wildly swinging his weapon towards Derek.
Stepping forward, Derek walked right up to the man, the gun pushing against his chest. Looking down at the smaller soldier, he shoved his I.D. in the young man's face. "Derek Robinaux, Captain, Colonial Defense Forces! Lower your gods-damned gun now!" His left hand slapping down, he knocked the weapon from the refugee's hands a moment later. Derek didn't look at the gun. He waited, and finally the young man looked up at him Derek met his panicked eyes with a steeled gaze of calm. "Deep breaths son, take three deep breaths." Derek waited, and then took a step back after watching the soldier visibly relax.
"Sir?" A quiet voice snuck in from his left. "Here's his gun." Nurse Harris was standing behind Derek. The pistol was shaking in her outstretched hand.
"Thanks, Spera," he said, quietly taking the gun from her. Quickly unloading the weapon and clearing the chamber, he handed the weapon to Parah. Turning back to the Specialist, he cautiously stuck out his hand towards the kid. "What's your name, son?" He asked as the soldier cautiously took his hand.
"Tom Donnellson, sir," his eyes darting about, trying to take in his new surroundings. "Where are we, sir?" he asked, his voice now tired and meek.
"You're on a commercial freighter, and amongst friends." Looking over the other refugees from his life pod, a strikingly tall dark skinned woman stood out. She was wearing the light gray uniform with powder blue accents of the company that was the primary contractor which had been upgrading the fleet's computer systems. Waving for her attention, Derek called out to her, "Ms., would you come with me and Mr. Donnellson please?"
Stepping forward, she extended her hand towards Derek. "Dr. Jean Wilker, Integral Systems Engineering." She looked briefly at the soldier next to her, and then returned her gaze to Derek. "Thank you for saving us, Captain."
"Thank him and her." Derek replied, pointing to Parah and then Marsha. "They dragged me out of the black, too."
Jean turned to Parah, earnestly taking his hand and then Marsha's in her own, before introducing herself and thanking them again.
"I'm glad we could help," Parah answered stiffly. "Now if you would all follow Captain Robinaux, he and Mr. Campara can get you processed. We'll try to get you some food and drink while we figure out berthing arrangements."
Taking his cue, Derek addressed the new group of refugees, waving his arm in a slow circle. "If you will all come with me, we'll get everyone sorted out." He waited a few moments as the refugees gathered behind him.
Dr. Wilker stayed at his side as he led the group. "So how did you end up on this boat, Captain?"
"My Viper crapped out in the middle of the fight." He paused a moment. "We were about to engage a squadron of Raiders when the Basestar launched a volley of missiles. I hit the throttle to bug out, and my plane just turned off." He shook his head quickly, "I don't know how better to explain it then that, I mean, it literally just turned off."
Jean grabbed his arm, stopping him, and then looked him straight in the eye. Leaning in to him, she looked to the side first, and in a quiet voice she began, "Same thing happened to the Promptus, we had just engaged the Cylons when ship systems began to crash. Before we knew it, before I could stop it, the whole damn ship just shut off. Thank the gods the Commander had already ordered the partial evacuation." She looked down for a moment, letting go of Derek as a wave of guilt washed over her, "I probably should have stayed with the ship, but, I knew there was no way I would be able to get the computers running again." Sniffling, she continued, "So… I jumped on the first life pod I saw," she confessed.
Derek took her by the shoulders, "Look at me." Her eyes now soft and vulnerable, "You did the right thing and I'm glad you're alive. Maybe with your help, when we meet up with the Galactica, we can figure out what happened, and be ready for the next round."
Brightening at the mention of the famous warship, and with a little awe in her voice, "The Galactica survived?" she whispered. With a glimmer of hope in her step, she turned back to the herd of refugees who had passed them resuming their path towards her rescued crew mates.