Chapter 17:
Battlestar Hyperion, Port Hangar, In Orbit of Star THC-4472, Unknown Space
Day 44, 09:03 PFT
Spinner took a long breath as his Viper was hauled back to its berth beside its launch-tube. He had been out on CAP for the last two hours and was looking forward to a couple of hours of downtime before he was out on scouting duty in one of the Raptors. The hunt to find Kobol was in full swing, and all the pilots were part of a rota to scout all the nearby systems as they travelled through the endless wastes of space. The Fleet generally didn't stay in one place for more than 6 hours (3 scouting slots on the rota) and yet they didn't feel like they were getting any closer.
Spinner was tired, very tired. The Admiral was putting pressure on them – and all the pilots of the various ships in the Fleet – to find Kobol and find it quickly. However, the Admiral only had a vague area of the galaxy where he knew Kobol to be, and in it were a lot of systems. Spinner had always known – like everyone else – that space was an expanse of unimaginable scale, but he had never before truly grasped how truly immense it all was, and how insignificant they seemed to be.
Maybe it was the tiredness getting to him and making him existential; he wondered to himself as he slipped off his helmet and sank into his seat. Morale was low generally among the pilots and all of the crews that Spinner had heard from. Even after the chaos of the Fall of the Colonies, it seemed almost that the disaster at the mining operation was what was hitting them worst of all. Disaster really was the word for it. All the build up to the fight, all the eagerness, anger, desire for revenge, had been only fuelled by their initial successes engaging the first group Basestars. What was hitting them still, over a week later, was how such success so quickly transformed into a crushing low.
The Eos barely escaping missing a wing and with damage all over was when they all started to realise the enormity of the Cylon enemy. What followed – their dash to the rescue of the Themis – had been a boost at the time, giving every pilot and probably every crewmember on the supporting ships and other Battlestars a massive sense of relief. However, that was all for nothing when they pulled out and found that the Themis never made it home. When whispers started to cut through the melee of pilots in the Draconis' hangar deck that there was no sign of the Themis, Spinner began to fear that it had been given the wrong coordinates and was now stuck alone in some other system. Yet, what he discovered when he found his way to Admiral Moore's CIC was far worse.
Though the fact that the klaxons were gone typically made a ship feel quiet, the silence of this CIC was palpable the moment he stepped inside. Admiral Moore and his closest command staff had stood aghast behind computer screens looking at an image of the fleet outside. A field of twisted, burning debris was scattering itself among the ships of the fleet, both civilian and military; all of which were now having to take emergency evasive action to get clear. The Themis hadn't gone to the wrong place, but the inertia of dropping out of a jump had ripped the ship in half, the damage from the battle simply too severe. Though a small handful of manned Vipers had managed to get themselves clear, the rest – like the crew onboard the Themis – were either burning, thrown out into the vacuum, or trapped within powerless and drifting sections detached from what had been the venerable Battlestar.
Search and Rescue operations began immediately to evacuate some of the larger remnants of the Themis, with a couple of hundred souls being saved, but none of them were from either of the flight pods, and none from the poor civilian cruise liner that had been a hapless bystander and huge lumps of debris were shot from FTL like a shotgun blast. Every other ship also lost a lot of good people that day, both from the battle and from pilots from the other Battlestars who had charged to the Themis' rescue then dived into the ship for evacuation, unaware that the ship would rip them apart only moments later.
Solemnly, and trying to banish the thoughts of the events of a week before, Spinner pulled his cockpit open and from out of his Viper he heard the hurried chatter and noise of the hangar. He closed his eyes and felt himself begin to drift…
"You kept it one piece then Major?" Shouted a voice just outside his ship. Spinner snapped alert and sat upright to take a look out. Below him to his right, the beach blonde hair of Specialist Six, her previously pristinely toned hair now filled with oil and grease.
"Only just, Six. Thanks for the confidence," Spinner grunted, attempting to sound humorous, but instead just sounding crabby. Like everyone else his sleep schedule was decided by the rota, and this time it was the pilots who seemed to have it hardest. 2 hours doing CAP, 2 hours off, 2 hours scouting, 4 hours for sleep, and repeat. Over and over again. There was no end in sight. With each scout mission came another 20 star systems that could be crossed off the list. Spinner hadn't seen the Admiral's list and so didn't know how long it was, but he guessed it must stretch down most of the ship considering how many empty systems they had visited already.
Still, he was the CAG, and he had to at least appear on top of everything. Shooting Six as genuine a smile as he could, he shakily stood up and clambered out of his cockpit, down the ladder to the floor. He began to walk away when he realised he'd left his helmet back up in the cockpit and had to quickly climb up and grab it before anyone saw. However, a quiet chuckle from Six on the other side of the Viper told Spinner he wasn't quick enough.
Spinner began to stagger back towards the nearest exit, fixing his reddish hair as he walked. As he reached the side of the hangar, a different, unfamiliar voice called from behind him. "Major! Hold on a minute." Spinner let out a sigh and spun around to see a short man, in a scruffy suit and with a notepad in his hand, come stumbling after him. Spinner regarded the man as he hurried over. He definitely was not from Colonial Fleet, and certainly not someone he recognised.
"Can I help you?" Spinner asked, somewhat confrontationally. He himself was not especially tall, but he did he best to try and tower over this stranger.
"Fleet Times…" The man said. "I'm Keith, Keith Ditton." He held out his hand for Spinner to shake, which he did, albeit with some trepidation. There had never been any reason for journalists to be on a military vessel before, so this wasn't an experience he was ready for.
"So… you're going to ask me questions, or something?" Spinner asked as the journalist – or Ditton, as he said his name was – as he readjusted his jacket and what Spinner now saw was a camera, hanging from his neck.
"Sorry, yes. I was wondering if we could have a bit of a chat. For the people of the Fleet." Spinner, after two hours CAP, really wasn't in the mood, and tried to keep walking.
"Well, I'm... y'know, I really should head back to the bunk…"
"It will only take a minute Major Halway, promise," Ditton said, stepping back to stop Spinner walking off.
"Oh alright. What do you need me to do?"
"Well if we could go somewhere quieter, I have a few questions? People have sent them in, so it's the people who you're answering, not me."
"Fine. The briefing room isn't far," Spinner said, now stepping past Ditton as the journalist bustled along behind him. The two walked together through the rest of the hangar, Spinner walking as fast as he could in the hopes he could put off the journalist, who was now struggling to keep up. They were walking in silence, and as they made it into the first of many corridors, Spinner realised he should probably make small talk.
"So, Mr…?"
"Ditton"
"Mr Ditton, have you ever been on a Colonial Battlestar before?" Spinner asked
"Nah, this is my first," Ditton replied, quite excitedly.
"Enjoying it?"
"It's so cool. I've been trying to get over here since just after the attack. Well, all my life actually. But the people want to know what their Fleet is up to, so I guess it's my job to find out."
"Keeping you all alive, as a general rule," Spinner said quickly. Ditton nodded and continued on after Spinner, who was now leading them into the belly of the ship. "I though you said the briefing room was close."
"Close is a relative term, Mr Ditton. This ship is hundreds of metres long."
"True…" The journalist fell silent again. Spinner began to slow himself down, as he realised they were still about a minute away from the briefing room.
Eventually they made it into the briefing room and found it empty, save for a pair of pilots – a man and a woman – lying, wrapped in each other on the front row of seats. "Bricker, Slingshot, get yourselves out of here. Fornication in my briefing room will not be tolerated. Besides, aren't you both on CAP next."
The two pilots leapt to their feet in a start. "Yes Major, sorry Major," quickly correcting their uniforms and standing to attention.
"That's alright, do whatever you want, just not here," Spinner said, standing in front of them, waiting for them to rush out, which at first they didn't. Spinner flicked his eyes towards the door and then back to them, to help them get the message, which luckily, they quickly did; immediately scurrying past Keith and out of the bulkhead door.
"They've been away from port a long time. I apologise," Spinner told Keith as he stepped around the back on his podium.
"Don't," The journalist replied, taking a seat on the front bench. "It shows they're human." The two of them sifted through their respective notes for a few minutes before Spinner came and joined Ditton in the front row.
"So?" Spinner asked, relaxing back against the seat and resting one of his feet up between him and Ditton, who set up a small tape recorder and placed it between them.
"So," Ditton replied, tapping his pen against his notepad. "You're the boss around here?"
Spinner snorted. "Well… I wouldn't say that, no."
"Why not?"
"That would be the Admiral. We have a command structure here so…"
"Well obviously," Ditton interrupted. "But with the pilots, with the crew? Who's really in charge?"
"I'm pretty sure I shouldn't really answer that, but the simple answer is that isn't me. I'm the Commander of the Air Group, yes, but I'm not the boss. I'm a Major, so outrank them, but my job is to look after my pilots and to keep them honest. Orders come from upstairs." Spinner replied. Ditton sat nodding as the Major spoke.
"So, you don't get a say in what goes on?"
"No, not exactly. I can make calls with the Admiral, and I can make calls in the field-"
"Any examples of that kind of 'call'?"
"I represent my pilots if the Admiral's planning an op, and when we're in combat I have the authority to make tactical decisions; after all, I'm the one out in the fight, the Admiral's view is limited to radar and security cameras." Spinner finished and took a breath while Keith quickly made notes on the pad on his lap.
"I'll start with one of the most requested questions from my readers… what has the aftermath of the mining operation disaster been like for the military?"
Spinner sat for a moment, taken aback by the journalist's question. The Admiral had instructed the ship captains to relay to their passengers a vague account of what had happened, but it hadn't occurred to him what it was that they were told. He wanted to be offended that this stranger had decided to start out by asking about the thing that the pilots had barely whispered a word about since it happened.
"I… I'm sure what it is you're referring to? The ambush was difficult and costly but not disastrous for our operations so it shouldn't affect the civilian populace too much."
"Doesn't affect us? Excuse me Major, but it is our survival that is your duty, no? You need the faith of the civilians in the fleet to avoid chaos, but military ships are dropping like flies. Are we supposed to feel safe?" Ditton retorted, stopping his notetaking and instead facing down the Hyperion CAG.
"I think our continued survival is proof of that, is it not?"
"Not really," it seemed to Spinner more and more that this journalist was not just here to write a story, but rather to express his feelings. "Are we supposed to feel safer that you flit off to another system, and come back without three of your ships? One of which was one of the largest Battlestars we have?"
"You should feel glad that any of us made it back at all. You saw what happened to the Colonies. The fact that we could even put up a fight shows that we're stronger than we think."
"But are we strong enough?"
"Enough for what?" Spinner asked. Ditton dived his eyes back to his notes, flipping through a couple of pages.
"When I asked for questions to put to the representatives of the military fleet, the same issues kept arising. No one knows what we are doing out here. We were told that the battle last week was to collect more fuel, which most people understand the need for. What they don't understand however, is why so much was required that it needed all the strength of the fleet to allow it to continue?"
"Because we had to be sure a Cylon fleet wouldn't stop us from mining."
"Then why not jump away at the first Cylon fleet? Or is that something the military is too weak to be able to do?"
"Too weak?!" Spinner stood up and wandered towards the podium he usually gave briefings behind, the whiteboard behind that scrawled with the names and groups assigned to different rotas. "We had to protect the civilian craft in the combat area from Cylon ships for as long as possible, and we took heavy losses as a result, but now have sufficient fuel supplies to reach…" Spinner caught himself before telling an outsider about Kobol. As far as he knew, the civilian population hadn't even been told about the Cylons' human forms, so didn't know if he could go giving away any sensitive information.
"To reach where, Major?" The journalist said, pen in hand, hoping for what could for him be an enormous scoop.
"Wherever it is we need to go, and for quite a while."
"And why is it that we could not have spent less time refuelling, but done it more regularly as we discover new resources? The mining ship has not been seen leaving the fleet for any more work since then."
"You're perceptive, but we wanted to make sure that we didn't need to stop, especially when we don't know when the next chance we get is going to be."
"But was that worth losing a Battlestar over?"
Spinner didn't have an immediate response. While extending the operation as long as possible was necessary to acquire the necessary fuel to reach Kobol, he questioned whether they could have pulled out the civilians and then everyone else as soon as the Cylons arrived, rather than trying to fight to keep the civilians mining up until they couldn't hold off the Cylon armada anymore. The briefing room had been emptier the following day when the rotas were handed out. Maybe it didn't have to be that way...
"Shall we try another question instead then?" Ditton tried to change the subject for now and Spinner was quite happy to get this line of thought out of his head. "What is a normal day like for you and your pilots?" Ditton asked.
Spinner snorted, what even was 'normal' anymore?
"Sorry, dumb question. What are your days like, at the moment?"
"Long. That's the easy answer. Very long now. To be quite honest I have no idea what day it is, most of us don't. And I don't just mean the day of the week or the date or anything. The last couple of weeks have blurred into one. I suppose suddenly losing everything we've ever known hasn't helped."
"What your describing Major is just what everywhere is like. All over the Fleet. It's not just you that's tired and confused but – and this is what many people have been saying – at least you get to know what's going on." Ditton told Spinner, who stopped to think for a moment.
"I suppose so, but we don't know that much, my pilots don't anyway. Besides, most of the stuff comes out on the daily address, and that's Fleet-wide."
"Not for us it's not. I believe some ship captains can tune in, but the majority haven't heard anything since we left the colonies. That's six weeks without news. Do you maybe get why I'm here now?" Ditton's tone sounded to get more accusatory, but Spinner didn't want to argue. If he was honest, he wasn't sure he could. He had no experience around the Fleet other than a few checks and one quick stop for 'leave'.
"Well I don't know what I can tell you really. We're very busy at the moment, the search is full-on and we're on a tight rota. When I say we can't keep a track of days is because the most we get to sleep is 2 hours." Spinner explained, starting to clearly get tired of the conversation, and frankly was feeling a bit put on the spot.
"Right… wait, did you say, search?" Ditton's tone changed suddenly and Spinner quickly got the overwhelming feeling he'd said something he shouldn't have.
"Yes…?"
"What search? What's the search for? Is this the reason we needed additional fuel from the mining operation?" Ditton sat up now, grasping the bait Spinner accidentally laid with both hands. Spinner winced and looked away. He was saying too much and knew he shouldn't continue to, although at this point, he thought he'd probably given the game away.
"Look, I thought this was known about, but given the… sensitive situation we find ourselves in, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be sharing this kind of information with civilians," he tried to explain as carefully as he could, but he realised this man wasn't going to take such a flippant answer. "Off the record? We're hunting for Kobol." Spinner was definitely stepping over the mark now, he thought. Although, as far as he could think now, they probably should have been straight with the civilian population about their goal, but clearly it seemed the Admiral had not seen that as a priority.
"Kobol? Seriously? The 'lost homeworld of the Twelve Colonies'?" Ditton's reaction seemed to be one more of humour than disbelief.
"He says he knows where it is, that we had been intended to be the head of a mission out there soon… well, before the Fall that was."
This time it was Ditton who snorted. "You really believe that? All of you? Everyone on this ship just believes that?"
Spinner was silent, unsure how to answer. "I've… you've got more from me than I should've given you…"
"And you don't think the civilian population should have been aware of this 'goal'? Or do you think Admiral Jenkins didn't want the people to know because there was nothing to know, and that those not under his payroll might not be so willing to go along with this story?" There was so much frustration in Ditton's voice, Spinner was growing increasingly more aware of how cut-off the civilians on the fleet must be feeling.
"Look, I don't have all the answers to your questions. As I said, I'm not the one in charge here. If you want, I'll bring up military/civilian transparency to the Admiral and see what he says, or if I can find anything else out. Otherwise all I can tell you is what I know already," Spinner said, trying to give the man some sort of consolation.
That seemed to make Ditton stop and think for a minute. "That's alright. You've been very helpful Major," the journalist said, fumbling around in his jacket pocket. "Here's how to contact me or my team if you find anything out, or if anyone else from the Colonial Fleet wishes to talk," he handed Spinner a little business card and took to his feet.
"I hope I can give you more soon." Spinner took the card and tucked it into one of the pockets of his overalls. He and Ditton shook hands again and the journalist began to walk to the door they had entered from. "Oh, Ditton? Spinner called after him. Ditton didn't reply but stopped and looked back over at Spinner. "You can put everything I said on the record, but don't tie it to me."
"Of course, my thanks," Ditton gave him a small wave and pulled open the bulkhead to the corridor. Spinner heard him take a step outside and then he heard no more footsteps. With a silent chuckle, he walked over to the bulkhead and peered through.
"You've no idea where you're going do you?" He asked, amused at the lost reporter.
"It seems I don't," Ditton replied.
"I'll find you someone to get you back to your ship, come with me."
Battlestar Hyperion, Admiral's Quarters, In Orbit of Star THD-8711, Unknown Space
Day 46, 14:22 PFT
Emily finished ordering a stack of papers off of the Admiral's desk and knocked them together. Behind her, the bulkhead to the room entered and Lieutenant Bell entered, a sheet of paper clutched in her hand.
"What's the matter Ana?" Emily asked as her friend approached her. The two had been close back when Bell first started on Hyperion – not that long ago actually, Emily suspected, despite how long the last weeks had felt – and Emily hoped they still were.
"I've got people sniffing around Emily. Pilots who aren't sure what we're still doing out here, mechanics down below who want to know how many more jumps and rotas we've got to get through," Bell explained, walking over to Emily. "And Em, it seems they're not the only ones."
Bell handed Emily the sheet of paper and Emily scanned it over. It was a news report from one of the civilian vessels, explaining about the hunt for Kobol and questioning how that was the reason for the failure of the mining operation. "Did we send out an explanation to the civilian ships about the mission?" Emily asked, looking up from the paper and putting it down on the table.
"Not that I'd seen. I remember the Admiral specifically telling us not to," Bell explained, collecting up the report again. "Should I report this to the Admiral then?"
"No, let me do it," Emily told her, picking up her files again. "I'll go find him with all this now before I clock out." Emily began to step away from the desk, but Bell reached out and placed a hand on her arm.
"Actually Em, before you leave…" Bell trailed off as Emily stopped and turned back to her. "I was wondering myself, how much longer we'd be searching for. When the Draconis arrived we had all the maps to find Kobol, how come we can't?"
"Look Ana, the Admiral made information on the maps top secret I can't-"
"I know, I know, I'm sorry I asked."
"Hold on, confidentially – and you didn't hear this from me – the maps are incomplete." Emily winced as she explained to Bell, who seemed shocked.
"But I thought-"
"Yes, so did I. Admiral Moore made it sound like they'd been to Kobol and found it. Yet, if you speak to his crew, none of them have. None of them were fully aware of their mission, they just thought they were out looking for resource rich systems, which is what they did find."
"So, and I don't mean to be throwing accusations around, has someone been lying to us?" Bell asked, taking a step back as she tried to piece things together.
"I'm not sure lying is the right word, although it also isn't really the wrong one… look, from what I found out from asking the Admiral – our Admiral – was that Moore didn't think Kobol was real, although the red dot on the map he showed us is where it should be. He simply told his men they had completed their mission so that they could return to Picon and he tell the Admiralty that the plan was a bust."
"But why lie to all of us then?"
"To keep us working I guess," Emily surmised. The two stood in thought for a minute, each wary of thinking anything treasonous, but both beginning to feel a sense of distrust building on the ship. It wasn't just this conversation that had sparked that feeling for both of them. The whole ship, maybe even the whole fleet, was constantly alight with whispers and speculation. Worse than the fact that there was a lie was the possibility that it might all have been for nothing.
"I suppose if we manage to find Kobol anyway it won't matter if there's been misinformation?" Bell said, trying to find anything positive to say.
"Only if the lie isn't pieced together first."
"Any idea who might have leaked this information to the civilians?" Emily pondered Bell's question for a moment.
"No, but find Halway and send him here, I need a word with him."
"Yes Em, uh, sir," Bell gave Emily a flash of a salute and rushed off, dropping the paper report on the way and having to come back to grab it. Emily gave her half a smile and watched on as she darted out of the room.
Battlestar Hyperion, Admiral's Quarters, In Orbit of Star THD-8711, Unknown Space
Day 46, 14:40 PFT
"You wanted to see me Emily?" Spinner said as he stumbled into the Admiral's office.
"Yes, I did," Emily replied, carrying her papers over to a couch and gesturing to Spinner to do the same. He did so and they sat and stared across at one another. "I wanted to speak to you because one of your pilots has leaked sensitive information about our mission."
"One of my pilots? What makes you say that?" Spinner asked, sounding almost offended at the accusation that one of his pilots could be a leak.
"Well someone has leaked information about the hunt for Kobol that would only be known by the highest Command officers and the Squadron Leaders."
"And what makes you so sure it's a Squadron Leader from this ship?" Spinner sat back on the sofa and tried to look comfortable. It didn't really work.
"Because it says so on the article you dumbass. 'My contact, a senior figure on the Battlestar Hyperion' is what it says, right at the start," Emily said, chucking a copy of the report across the coffee table between them at Spinner, who sat sharply up to read it. His eyes flicked across it for a minute then he looked back up at Emily.
"I've no idea who this could be. It wouldn't be Hera, Cook is barely out of sickbay, Crow doesn't like words enough to talk to a journalist…"
"Cut the bullshit Sid, I know it was you," Emily said, exasperated with Spinner badly pretending to be shocked.
"Me?"
"Who else would be naïve enough to tell a reporter secret information like that because he thought it was 'right'?" Emily stared across at Spinner in a not dissimilar way that a teacher might look at a regularly mischievous child who was being told off.
"I'm not naïve… look Emily, they have no idea what's going on. I know the risk of Cylon spies in the civilian populace, but what about all the innocents? They get no information from us at all, they're just sitting in their ships wondering what's going on and waiting for the Cylons to come and blow them out of the sky. They've got no direction other than fear, and that seems to be fading." Spinner stopped and mentally looked at himself. He wasn't sure when he'd ever been so impassioned before.
"I get that, but the Admiral said-"
"I don't care what the Admiral said. It's been well over a week since we started the hunt properly. Any Cylon spy is just as likely to be within the military fleet and therefore be well aware of what's going on. Why do the people not get to know?"
"I… I don't know Sid," Emily said, dropping back in the sofa.
"Well then, why don't we take this to the Admiral?" Spinner stood to his feet and tried to muster Emily to action the way he had his tired and weary pilots for the last few days.
"We can try. But I won't guarantee that he'll be on board. He wouldn't come out in a good light if we go through with it," Emily conceded.
"By the looks of this article, he's not going to no matter what we do…"
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