Ch 4
Nechayev walked to the sickbay and met Doctor Cottle.
"Admiral Nechayev. I was told you were coming down here." Cottle said.
"Yes, I am. I'll be getting a blood sample from the Cylon prisoner." Nechayev said.
"Very well. Get some gloves, and a syringe." Cottle said.
With the gloves and syringe on, she walked to the cell where Sharon was.
"Who are you?" Sharon asked, seeing Nechayev with a syringe in her hand.
"I need to get a blood sample. That's all." The Starfleet admiral said.
Sharon held out he arm, and watched as the admiral filled the syringe with her blood. She wondered what the blood would be used for.
"Hey, Admiral. So when are we heading to your ship?" Kara asked.
Nechayev tapped her comm badge.
"Graff Spee, 2 to beam up."
Nechayev and Starbuck beamed over to the Graff Spee. Starbuck's jaw just dropped at how advanced the ship was. Nothing the Colonials produced was as advanced as this. And this was one ship.
"No wonder you destroyed those Cylons so easy." Starbuck said.
"Godfrey, how's the warp core?" Nechayev asked.
"Still working on it. To tell you the truth, I don't think we'll get past warp 2. Whatever happened, did a number on the core." Godfrey said.
"Keep me posted." Nechayev said.
"You guys use networked computers?" Starbuck asked.
"You sound terrified." Nechayev said, as the two headed to sickbay.
"That was how the Cylons took down our fleet. Our ships had networked computers, and the Cylons hacked into the system. Some sort of virus." Starbuck said.
"I doubt the Cylons will be able to hack into our system. This ship is designed to repel Breen dampening weapons. So the Cylons won't be able to touch it." Nechayev said, entering the sickbay.
"Doc, here's a blood sample. I want you to tear it from the inside out. Find a way for a tricorder to detect it." Nechayev.
"Yes, sir."
"This ship is bigger than the Pegasus and Galactica put together." Starbuck said.
"She's the biggest ship Starfleet has produced so far. Very capable in the right hands." Nechayev said.
"What kind of weapons does she have?" Starbuck asked.
"That's classified. Along with many other things." Nechayev said.
"Admiral, Adama has sent his logs over." An ensign said.
"Good. Start sending supplies to the fleet. Mainly food and medicine." Nechayev said.
"Also, their president wants you to speak to the quorum and press right now. They're meeting in the Galactica."
Nechayev knew she would have to speak with them, but she didn't expect it to happen this soon.
"Tell the Admiral I'm on my way." Nechayev said.
In the large meeting room, the press was hammering Adama with questions.
"Admiral, is this ship from the 13 tribe?"
"Could it be a Cylon trap?"
"You have any idea where it came from?"
"Everyone, calm down! Admiral Nechayev will arrive shortly to answer all your questions!" Adama almost shouted, which calmed the crowd.
"Now you know what I go thru with the quorum." Roslin half-jokingly said to Adama.
"As bad as it is, martial is still worse." Adama replied.
The door opened, and Nechayev walked in, flanked by two Colonial marines.
"Before you start asking questions, let me introduce myself. I'm Admiral Nechayev, the top leader of Starfleet, the main branch of exploration and defense for the Federation." Nechayev said.
"Why are you out here?" a reporter asked.
"Good question. Short answer is, my ship's engine malfunctioned and sent us here. And here I am." Nechayev said.
"Are you from the 13th tribe?"
"Me, most of my crew, and my ship did come from earth." Nechayev said, and the room exploded with many questions and chatter.
"Will more ships come from the 13 tribe?"
"Will you take care of the Cylon threat?"
"How advanced is your ship?"
"Will you be distributing supplies to the reset of the fleet?"
"Food and medicine is being sent throughout the fleet. I'm not giving critical tech, because
frankly, our technology is beyond your use. We have advanced weapons, hell; the ship can run itself without our input." Nechayev said.
"You use AI on your ship?" a reporter asked, in horror.
"Yes. AI technology is heavily used throughout the Federation. It's something that's taken for granted." Nechayev said.
The room quieted, and the news reporters made hushed whispers towards each other. A few made glances of hatred towards Nechayev.
"Admiral, here's something you should know. We despise advanced AI. The Cylons are trying to kill us."
"I'm well aware of your fight. I rescued the Pegasus from 3 Cylon battleships. My ship and technology can be a great benefit to your fleet. We can stop any Cylon attack." Nechayev said.
"What's this Federation?" a reporter asked.
"It's a peaceful organization that comprises thousands of worlds and governments. All owe allegiance to the Federation, whose HQ is Earth. One of the main principles of the Federation is that we respect each species right to their culture. Yes, species. There are hundreds of species, many aliens, inside the Federation." Nechayev said.
"Can the Federation protect us from the Cylons?" another reporter asked.
"Yes. From what I've seen, the Cylons are hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned compared to the Federation." Nechayev said.
"How close are we to earth?"
"That's speculation. I'll need all the information on your FTL drives, regardless on clearance. But I will say this. As long as the Graff Spee is with the fleet, you're safe from the Cylons." Nechayev said.
"One final question, regarding the Federation's policy towards culture. Since it respects culture, it stand reason to suppose that the many species are free to practice their religion as they choose?"
"Yes. That's correct." Nechayev said.
"Admiral, thank the gods you're here. We're tired from running from the Cylons, constantly losing a battle of attrition. Thank the gods."
"God's got nothing to do with this. Just a malfunctioning engine. Clear the shit and smell the fresh coffee." Nechayev coldly said, and walked off the podium.
Out of the room, Nechayev met with the higher ups of the fleet.
"That's a hell of a meeting." Col. Tigh said.
"It's how I deal with rowdy press. While I'm not a fan of martial law, in a situation like this it may be practical for a group of people this size." Nechayev said.
"So what's your next plan?" Adama asked.
"I'm working on it. In the meantime, try and calm the fleet. Last thing we all need, is a repeat of the Warsaw uprising." Nechayev said, puzzling her counterparts.
"The what?" Adama asked.
"Earth has a bloody and violent past. In the year 1944, a country called Germany controlled the neighboring country of Poland. The Poles were naturally pissed, and they rose up to free their capital. For two months the Poles held the capital before being crushed by the superior German force. Reason I say Warsaw uprising, is because it was the first metaphor that came to my mind." Nechayev said.
"I'll work on getting you the FLT data you need." Adama said.
"You trust me that quickly?" Nechayev asked.
"I have no choice. You claim your ship is very powerful. I'd rather not be on the receiving end of that. So I'm taking a leap of faith." Adama said.
"Good. I'm due back on the Graff Spee. I'm still looking over your logs." Nechayev said.
"Just remember. Context matters. Did a lot of shit that we normally wouldn't have done." Adama said.
"Did a lot of shit during our war as well. Don't worry, Admiral. We're to learn from the past, and look to the future. Or so we should." Nechayev said.
…
Back on the Graff Spee, Nechayev was busy reading Adama's logs when her liaison officer came in to the sound of jazz music. A slow jazz tune was playing, one fit for a detective story. It seemed to fit.
"Admiral?" Starbuck asked.
"Film noir jazz. Section 45.
"I enjoy listening to jazz. It helps to calm me down."
Nechayev said, as she read the cursive hand writing. And Adama had one hell of a journey. From retirement to senior military commander overnight. He fought the Cylons at Ragnar, chased for 5 days without any sleep, destroyed the Olympic Carrier, and it went on and on.
"So, you belted your XO." Nechayev said, reading when Adama was dealing with the water crisis.
"Yeah… that was a different time…" Starbuck said, not wanting to get on the Admiral's bad side. She had a ship that had more firepower than both the total strengths of the Cylon and Colonial fleets put together.
"From what I can tell, he needs to be popped in the mouth every now and then." Nechayev said.
"Can't argue with that, sir." Kara said.
"This Lee Adama is an idiot for letting Zarek stay alive. And now, he's in your government, as representative of Sagitteron." Nechayev said.
"I'm not so sure why he let him live. But that's in the past." Starbuck said.
"Those who fail to listen to history, repeat it." Nechayev said.
A darker and sensual jazz was playing, but Nechayev paid no mind, still reading Adama's logs.
"Hell of a choice for reading music." Kara said.
"Why the fuck did Lt. Agathon impregnate an enemy agent?" Nechayev asked.
"He saved my ass back on Caprica. He's a friend of mine." Kara said.
"I understand that. But why did he bone a cylon?" Nechayev asked.
"You'll have to ask him. I'm guessing he didn't know she was a Cylon until after they fracked." Kara said.
"Frack?" Nechayev asked, looking at the pilot.
"It's a curse word." Kara said.
"Oh. Like me and you just fucked." Nechayev said, giving Kara the earthling's own curse word.
Kara chocked on her drink and looked at the admiral.
"Is that an invitation?" Kara asked out of the blue.
Both stared at each other.
"For my sanity, I'm going to forget you said that. And I'll delete said image out of my mind. You guys went thru hell and back." Nechayev said.
"We did. And it'll only continue." Starbuck said.
"Sit down. I'll have plenty of questions. Computer, holographic display." Nechayev said, and a display appeared in the middle of the room.
"12 colonies, Ragnar. Discovery of ice planet, recovery of Starbuck, battle on asteroids, and Kobol. Great Cylon turkey shoot. Meeting with Pegasus, and destruction of resurrection ship. Rescue of battlestar Pegasus." Nechayev said, creating a map.
"Next stop, earth." Kara said.
"Logs say that you want to return to Caprica." Nechayev said.
"Yes, sir. There are still people there. They need to be rescued." Kara said.
"Not gonna happen. Your two battlestars are needed to protect this fleet, and Graff Spee can only cruise at warp 2. It'll take months to get there." Nechayev said.
Nechayev put the log books away and rubbed her eyes in frustration. This was not something she was expecting.
"You alright?" Kara asked.
"A little frustrated, that's all. I'm wondering what the next crisis will be." Nechayev said.
"There's always a crisis." Kara glumly said.
"Lets talk about something else." Nechayev said.
"Well, before the war I had a scholarship to play pyramid ball." Kara said.
"What's that?" Nechayev asked.
After Kara explained the game, Nechayev said "Sounds like basketball, football, and baseball had a threesome, and a bastard child was the end result."
"That's one way of looking at it. I could have gone pro, but a bum knee put me out of contention. After that, joined the Colonial fleet. And I'm fighting just for the hell of it. It's funny. When we found Kobol, we needed the arrow of Apollo to open the tomb of Athena, so we could find a map to earth." Kara said.
"That's very interesting. So what happened?" Nechayev asked, grabbing two glasses and a bottle filled with a blue liquid. She filled the glasses and handed one to Kara.
"Well, I found…" Kara said, as she drank the liquid.
Kara's face imploded, and she grimly swallowed the liquid.
"What the frak is that?" She asked, coughing.
"Romulan ale. We managed to smuggle an entire crate aboard the ship." Nechayev said, a big grin on her face at Kara's discomfort.