Chapter 5
The old adage "Be careful of what you wish for, you just might get it" never rang so true to me until after I came from the brig. I was wishing for something, anything to take my mind off of my foul mood when Commander Adama's voice came over ship-wide intercom. What he said shook me and everybody else to our very core. The Twelve Colonies were apparently destroyed by the Cylons and a state of war existed between our two peoples.
As officers in the Colonial Armed Forces, we trained almost every day for combat. But training is one thing, being in it is something completely different altogether. Though the ship herself was retiring, most of the crew that served her were either babies or weren't born during the last Human/Cylon Wars, me included. As a fighter pilot however, because of our very natures, part of me was looking forward to testing my skills against the Cylon invaders. But I think most of my eagerness came from finding out that my home planet, Libran was destroyed by the Cylons. I'd just talked to my family and friends, letting them know I was coming home on leave a couple of weeks ago and now they were all dead. It was only my rage at their deaths that kept me from breaking down completely.
I guess I was one of the lucky ones that didn't, if you could call it that; there were people all over the place crying, wailing or slumped against a bulkhead in disbelief and shock. Not once did I think that I was stronger than them for not doing the same. In fact, a little part of me wondered if maybe there wasn't something wrong with me for not breaking down.
All these thoughts happened in a split second because the alert klaxons started blaring soon after the commander finished addressing the ship. Everybody moved with a purpose like their bodies were on autopilot; the years of training kicked in and the rest was instinct. It only took me a couple of minutes to suit up in my "jock-smock" and made it to the flight deck. Helo and Boomer were boarding their Raptor as I arrived.
"Going on an SAR (search and rescue) run to Caprica, going to see if there's anybody still left down there." Helo said to me.
We bumped fists as was our custom before every mission. "Watch your ass Beanstalk. I'm not there to fly cover for you and keep you out of trouble as usual."
He smiled and shook his head. "You too Miles, be careful out there."
I noticed that Boomer looked ashen as she stood on the hatch. She was having trouble reconciling that she'd have to fly into an actual combat situation for the first time and afraid she'd screw up. I put a calming hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it'll be okay Boomer, you're gonna be fine. Just a cakewalk for you right?"
She nodded nervously in response. Karl stood at her shoulder and said, "Miles is right, we're gonna be fine Sharon. I trust you with my life."
Major Spencer had launched Red Squadron already as the first wave of defense; I was to go out with Blue Squadron on the second wave. I glanced over to see Kara in her "jock-smock" climbing into a Viper. Guess they needed all available hands for this one and I couldn't blame them. I of course, was actually rather glad to see her. I climbed into my viper and commenced my combat pre-flight check. I was prepped for launch and raring to go when we got the call through our comms for a "mission scrub." The news was received with a collective "frack!" from all the pilots in their cockpits.
"What the hell's going on?" I yelled at one of the deckhands as my cockpit was opening.
"The Mark VIIs are being scrubbed sir! Something about the network interface being co-opted. Red Squadron just got wiped out because of that. "
Our collective jaws dropped to the floor; it was only minutes ago that Red Squadron launched. If I'd arrived thirty seconds sooner, I would've launched with the squadron. I felt a cold chill pass through my body. I didn't mind dying so much but to die without a fight…I couldn't deal with that. Unbidden, my mind imagined Major Spencer's last moments as he sat in his cockpit, defenseless against incoming Cylon Raiders. The fear he must've felt as those tracers were incoming….
I shook my head quickly, trying to clear the grim thought from my mind. My next thoughts were, what were we going to do if our planes weren't going to work?
"What about the Mark IIs?" Kara shouted. At first we all kind of scoffed but it was exceedingly momentary. Kara's idea made perfect sense. Yeah they were museum pieces but put some fuel and bullets in the guns and you had a functional war machine that was battle tested and true. Best of all, it was not networked.
"Let's move like we've got a purpose people and get these pilots into the sky!" Chief Tyrol said, rallying his deckhands. We jumped out of the Mark VIIs and rushed to give them a hand. We ran to the other launch bay which had been converted to be used as a museum and started clearing the exhibits. We were like destructive children on a tear. As pilots, we were all trained in the most basic of aircraft maintenance, so to see the Chief and the deckhands work was astonishing. I gained a new respect for them as they prepped the Mark IIs for combat readiness in record time. "Let's get these birds in the tubes!" Tyrol belted out.
I climbed in one of the fighters; I glanced down and saw the name of the pilot that it once belonged to, Jake "Gipsy" Danger. I hoped that I'd do his legacy proud as I dogged the cockpit hatch. Slowly I got wheeled into the launch bay. The systems were rudimentary compared to the Mark VII; my hands flew across the panel, activating the plane. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, trying to relax myself as best as I could before flying into certain danger. I just prayed that my training would automatically just kick in like I was always told. I started humming "Leave the Bourbon on the shelf" and Kara off to my right. All my feelings for her were twisted up in my fear of what lay in store for me out there.
