Chapter Four: The Angry Man
Transport Shuttle
The shuttle pilot, Lieutenant Anthony Kaiser, found himself trapped in a nightmare as he sat in the cold darkness of space. His shuttle had docked with the Delphi to offload its passengers. He and two others had been trapped onboard once the airlock doors slammed shut for no reason. Now, all systems had failed, leaving him stranded in the pitch-black void, with no way to open the airlock that connected his shuttle to the enigmatic craft.
"Damn it," Kaiser muttered.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream tore through the silence. Kimberly Ashfield, a member of the group, had been at the rear of the shuttle where Jayne Sumner lay unconscious. In that moment he was grateful for the meds he had given to help her to sleep after she had been injured.
"Hey Ashfield, we need to stay calm and I can figure out what to do," he said.
"Sorry, Lieutenant, I just didn't expect the power to go out," she said.
'You and me both,' he thought but he dared not to say that to her.
He had a limited supply of oxygen, and panic clawed at the edges of his mind. He reached for the control panel in front of him, fingers trembling as he tried to reactivate the shuttle's power systems. A faint red glow illuminated the console, and Alex's heart sank. The power levels were dangerously low, barely a flicker of life. He pounded his gloved fist on the unresponsive buttons, frustration building.
"Come on, come on!" he urged the stubborn machinery. His breaths grew shallower as his oxygen supply dwindled. He knew he needed to restore power to the shuttle and get the airlock open before his life support ran out.
Battlestar Delphi:
Hangar Deck:
Once a proud and mighty battlestar, the Delphi now lay decommissioned, tucked away in a secluded corner of the naval yard. Its once-thunderous engines had fallen silent, its decks empty of the bustling life that had once filled them. Stories of strange occurrences and ghostly sightings had plagued it for years, and tonight, a group of Colonial Fleet and a group of civilians who wanted to see the battlestar become a museum had gathered to explore its decks.
"Remember, everyone," Colonel Moses Lindley said to get everyone's attention, "stay close and don't wander off. We don't know what's lurking in the shadows."
Lindley took one last look at the dimly lit hangar deck, it was not hard to imagine the space when it had once been the area where the engines of Vipers and Raptors had once roared to life. Now, only silence reigned. Every footstep echoed ominously, as if the ship itself was listening.
"Right, or else the Angry Man will get you," Petty Officer Eric Flint teased.
"Flint, that's something only a frakwood would talk about right now," he reprimanded.
"I heard about that story, I think it's a rite of passage for the Delphi crew," Christy Vance said.
"It's just stories to make the rookies scared when they board the ship," he said and turned his attention to the rest of the group, "Let's get moving, remember to be in constant contact with each other by radio."
"After you, Colonel Lindley," Robert McClintock said as they made their way to the hatch that would lead them to the stairs to the deck above.
As they ascended a narrow staircase, a distant clang echoed through the metal corridors, causing them all to jump. It was impossible to discern the source, but it left an unsettling feeling in his heart.
Transport Shuttle
As Kaiser frantically worked to revive the shuttle's systems Ashfield paced back and forth. Her chestnut hair was disheveled, and her eyes were wide with fear.
"Kaiser, we can't just stand here! We're running out of oxygen, and Sumner needs help!"
"I know, Ashfield," he replied, his voice as calm as he could manage. "I'm doing everything I can to get that airlock open, but it's not a simple job. They might take a while to respond."
He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The icy grip of dread still clung to him, but he couldn't afford to lose control. He needed to think, and think fast.
"Is there any way to transfer power from the Delphi?" she asked.
"We're not sure if it's safe. We don't know anything about that ship. But we'll try to establish a connection remotely and see if we can reroute some power to your shuttle. Stand by."
With a sense of unease, Kaiser watched as the power levels in his shuttle continued to dwindle. Every second was precious, and he could not shake the feeling that something malevolent lurked beyond the airlock. The minutes felt like hours as he waited in the stony silence of space.
"Nothing about this feels right," he muttered.
Time was running out, and the oxygen levels in the shuttle were dropping rapidly. Every second that passed felt like an eternity. He continued to work feverishly at the controls, trying to bypass the ship's security protocols. His fingers danced across the keyboard as he muttered technical jargon under his breath. He had always been the cool, collected type under pressure, but this was pushing the limits of his expertise. Sumner had given him pointers, and he was grateful that he actually paid attention instead of just feigning interest.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his efforts paid off. The airlock's control panel flickered to life, and a series of lights illuminated the buttons and switches. Along with that, the shuttle gained power again, and he heard the distinctive hum of the life support systems as they came to life. Ashfield rushed over to the control panel, her eyes filled with hope.
"Lieutenant, you did it!" she exclaimed.
Kaiser nodded and wiped his brow once more. "We're not out of the woods yet," he cautioned.
Battlestar Delphi O-3 Level:
Officer's Wardroom
Flint and Ashley Halstead stood outside the door to the officer's wardroom, its heavy steel frame slightly ajar, revealing the darkness within. It seemed that even with the dim lighting in the corridor that the lights inside of the wardroom remained off.
"Here we are," Mark said, his voice tinged with excitement and apprehension. The Delphi had bustled with activity during its deployments, but now, it was an empty shell of its former self.
Halstead peered into the dimly lit room. The air felt heavy, and an eerie silence hung in the space. "This place gives me the creeps," she admitted.
"You're telling me. This is where the officers would come to relax, have meetings, and dine during deployments. I spent a lot of time on this ship, but I've never been in here when it's been this quiet."
They cautiously entered the wardroom, and Flint let out a low whistle as he looked around. The tables were neatly arranged; the chairs pushed in as if awaiting the return of their occupants. Colonial Fleet posters along with pictures of the city of Delphi stayed mounted to the wall and the polished brass accents gleamed in the dim light of their flashlights.
"It's like they just got up and left," Halstead whispered, her voice barely audible.
Flint nodded, walking toward the head of the room where a large table dominated the space. "This is where the captain and senior officers would sit. They'd plan missions, make decisions that could change the course of our deployments."
As they approached the table, a sudden gust of wind whistled through the room, making the hanging models sway gently. Halstead shivered, her eyes darting around the empty chairs.
Flint chuckled at the sight and could not help but smile at the sight of the civilian
"Don't worry, it's just the wind. This ship always had a way of playing tricks on your senses."
Halstead seemed to be trying to shake off her unease, pointed at a bookshelf lined with dusty volumes. "What's on those shelves?"
Flint stepped closer, scanning the titles. "Naval strategy books, technical manuals, and probably a few novels to pass the time. These officers weren't just about work, you know."
Halstead turned her attention to a portrait hanging above the bookshelves. It was a group photo of the ship's officers, taken during their last deployment. They all wore their uniforms with pride, their faces a mix of determination and camaraderie. But now, they were all gone, scattered across the country, retired or moved to other assignments.
"Flint," Sarah said, her voice trembling, "there's something eerie about this place. It's like the memories of those officers still linger here, and their absence is almost palpable."
Mark nodded solemnly. "I know what you mean. There's a certain stillness, a sense of history trapped in these walls. It's as if their presence is still here, watching over this room."
"What was that story about the Angry Man that you were trying to tell everyone on the hangar deck?" she asked.
"Ah yes, you really are curious about that?" he said with a conspiratorial tone to his voice.
"Not really, I figured you would have mentioned something about it once we were in here," she said.
He motioned with his flashlight over to one table and saw that there was no cloth that covered it.
"Come over here, let's have a seat," he said.
"Are you going to try to scare me?" she asked.
He shook his head and motioned for her to come with him. It took a few seconds, but Halstead agreed and came over to the table. Their flashlights came to rest on it and there was more light on either side of where they sat along with the faint hits of fluorescent light from the corridor.
"They had whispered the legend of The Angry Man among sailors for years, a tale passed down from one generation to the next. It was said that he had been a crew member, a grizzled old sailor who had served aboard the Delphi during its last days of active duty. We lost his name to time, but his anger and resentment lived on," he said.
"You expect me to believe that?" she asked with barely concealed skepticism.
"I'm trying to tell you the story, you can save your questions for when I'm done," he countered.
"Fine, you may continue," she said.
"The story went that during the ship's last deployment, tensions had run high. The crew had been overworked, morale had plummeted, and arguments had become commonplace. It was in the shadowy depths of the ship that The Angry Man had met his untimely end, a victim of a heated confrontation that had spiraled out of control," he said with every attempt to make the story more and more creepy as he continued, "As the ship was decommissioned, the legend of The Angry Man took root. Sailors who had served alongside him claimed to hear his voice echoing in the deserted halls, his angry shouts carried on the wind. Some said they had glimpsed a shadowy figure in the corners of their vision, a hulking silhouette that vanished as quickly as it appeared. Those who dared mention their encounters spoke of cold gusts of wind that seemed to carry the weight of bitterness and resentment. Footsteps echoed in the stillness, heavy and purposeful, as if someone were pacing the empty corridors."
"Can I speak now?" she asked.
Flint could tell that he had her on the hook with the story, all he had to do was continue the story and he would have her completely on edge about the Delphi being a haunted ship. Yes, there had been stories about this presence on the ship, he was just retelling the story as he had heard it from when he first came to the shipyard and upping the fear factor for her.
"Not yet, there's more to tell you," he replied.
"Okay, what happened next?" she asked.
"The legend took on a life of its own. We often met sailors who'd report strange occurrences. Tools would disappear, only to reappear in unlikely places. Lights flickered and dimmed for no apparent reason. The feeling of being watched was a constant companion. One night, as a crew of workers toiled below decks, they heard it…the unmistakable sound of footsteps, angry and purposeful. They exchanged nervous glances, their flashlights trembling in their hands. The footsteps grew closer, and then, as if in response to their mounting fear, the lights went out."
"Could have been a mechanical failure," she said.
"In the pitch darkness, they could feel a presence, a simmering anger that seemed to surround them. A voice, hoarse and filled with rage, whispered from the shadows, "Leave this ship." Terrified and trembling, they fled the vessel, vowing never to return. The legend of The Angry Man grew stronger, and the Delphi became known as one of the most haunted ships in the naval yard.
To this day, we warn all visitors to stay away from the Delphi at night, for The Angry Man still roams its decks, his anger and bitterness binding him to the ship that had become his eternal prison. This battlestar, once a symbol of the Colonial Fleet's power, now serves as a haunting reminder of a sailor's rage that refuses to be put to rest."
"Let's get out of here," Halstead said, her voice quivering. "I don't like this feeling."
Flint agreed, and he had to admit he had rattled her a bit more than he intended. Better to go ahead and finish the exploration of the O-3 Level. They left the table and made their way back to the door. As they stepped outside, the heavy steel door swung shut behind them with a resounding clang, startling them both.
Halstead's heart raced as she looked back at the wardroom's closed door. "Did you do that?"
Flint shook his head, his face pale. "No, I didn't touch it."
They stood in the dimming light, the eerie sensation of being watched still lingered. Even though they couldn't see anything paranormal, the presence of the past officers seemed to surround them, and the stillness of the wardroom left an indelible mark on their memories.
"Weird things happen on decommissioned ships," Flint said, trying to break the tension. "Let's see what else we can find on this deck."
Battlestar Delphi Fourth Deck:
Engine Room:
Enlisted Navy man, Petty Officer Richard Dale, stood alongside two curious civilians, brothers Harold and Cecil Lawson, as they prepared to venture into the heart of the decommissioned battlestar.
Cecil, his voice hushed, asked, "Are you sure it's safe down there, Petty Officer?"
Dale flashed a reassuring grin. "Absolutely! The engine room's been deactivated for years. It's perfectly safe, just eerie."
Harold, gripping a flashlight, chimed in. "Eerie? What do you mean?"
Dale led them down a narrow stairwell, the clang of their boots echoing in the emptiness. "It's the stillness, the silence. You'll see what I mean."
As they entered the engine room, a cold, eerie quietness enveloped the trio. Rows of massive turbines and pipes lay dormant, casting long, ominous shadows. The air was heavy with the musty scent of rust and history.
Cecil whispered, "It's so... empty."
Dale nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "That's the thing. It's like the memories of its past haunt this place. When these engines were roaring, it felt alive, but now..."
Harold interrupted, "Now it feels like a ghost town."
Dale raised an eyebrow. "Exactly. You know, sailors used to say that this place had a soul, that it breathed, and that you could feel its presence even when it was silent."
The group wandered deeper into the engine room, their flashlights casting long, eerie shadows on the metal walls. The quiet was so intense that even the sound of their own breathing seemed intrusive.
Harold shivered. "This place is giving me the creeps. Are you sure there's nothing paranormal here?"
Dale chuckled softly. "No, sir. No ghosts or spirits. Just memories."
Cecil, feeling a sense of unease, asked, "What kind of memories?"
Dale paused, his gaze fixed on a particularly imposing turbine. "The memories of the brave men and women who served on this battlestar. The excitement and anxiety they felt as they prepared for missions, the camaraderie, and the unyielding dedication to their duty."
As they continued to explore, they passed by massive gears, each one bearing witness to countless rotations during the Delphi's active service. Cecil couldn't help but feel a chill as he reached out to touch one. "It's like they're frozen in time."
Dale nodded. "That's the beauty and the eeriness of this place. It's a snapshot of history, a reminder of the sacrifices made, and the countless hours spent keeping this ship running."
The group fell into a reflective silence, their footsteps echoing faintly through the silent engine room. The stillness seemed to hold the weight of all those who had served here, their stories etched into the very metal surrounding them.
Finally, Harold broke the silence. "It may be creepy, but it's also awe-inspiring. This place tells a story that no words can truly capture."
Dale smiled, his eyes reflecting the respect he had for this quiet, eerie place. "You're absolutely right, sir. It's a place where history and memories come alive in the stillness."
As they made their way back towards the exit, they couldn't help but glance back at the silent giants of the engine room. They knew that though the engines were now silent, the legacy of the battlestar and the stories of those who served on her would never fade away. Their journey took them deeper into the bowels of the ship, where the oppressive atmosphere intensified. The air grew colder, and the flickering lights became more sporadic.
"What's this?" Cecil asked.
Dale paused and looked at an old plaque on the wall. It read: "In memory of the brave souls who served aboard the Delphi during the Battle of Molecay. May they rest in peace."
Harold looked at it as though a memory had come to him, "This part of the engine room must have been an area that had been hit during the battle."
Battlestar Delphi O-1 Level:
CIC:
Lindley stood at the entrance of the Combat Information Center (CIC) of the Delphi and waited for McClintock to catch up. The once bustling hub of naval operations had fallen into a state of eerie silence since its retirement from service.
"Mr. McClintock, are you ready for this?" Jameson asked as he turned to face the millionaire, who had a look of curiosity written across his face.
McClintock nodded, "It'll be like stepping into a time capsule."
Lindley flashed a wry smile. "I thought you'd appreciate the history here. It's been years since someone has been inside, and I'm not sure how well it's held up."
Together, they pushed open the heavy metal door and entered the CIC. The auxiliary lights bathed the compartment in an eerie blue glow from the dimmed overhead lights. Rows of empty consoles and vacant swivel chairs lined the space, as if the crew had just stepped out for a break. The silence was suffocating. There was a distinct feeling that the room held secrets, that it remembered the lives and missions that had once played out within its confines. Lindley could not shake the shiver that ran down his spine.
"This place feels… haunted," McClintock said.
"Yeah, it's strange, isn't it? You'd think it would just be a room filled with electronics, but it's like they etched the memories into the walls."
They moved further into the CIC, stepping carefully to avoid the cables strewn across the floor. Lindley pointed to a large tactical plot table in the center of the room. "This is where we used to plan our operations. It's where we'd track enemy vessels, plot our course, and make critical decisions."
"It's hard to imagine the intensity of what went on here," McClintock replied.
As they continued their exploration, they passed by the Command and Control Station, now vacant and covered in dust. Lindley reminisced about the countless hours he imagined the Delphi's commanding officers spent in that very spot, making life-or-death decisions.
"The crew always knew when to be quiet here," Jameson said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We respected the gravity of the decisions made in this room. But now, the silence is almost oppressive."
McClintock moved closer to one console and his fingers across the cold metal surface. "I've read about haunted places, but I never thought I'd experience one. Even though there's nothing paranormal here, it looks like the place you'd find in a horror movie.."
As they continued to explore, their footsteps echoed in the empty space. Every creak and groan of the ship seemed magnified, as if the Delphi itself was reminiscing about its days when it patrolled Colonial space.
Lindley stopped at a particular spot and looked around. "This is where we used to communicate with other ships and command centers. It was our lifeline during deployments."
McClintock glanced around. "It's like the memories of all those conversations are still lingering here."
As they made their way back to the exit, Lindley could almost imagine the sounds of the CIC when it was alive with the sounds of the officers and enlisted crew.
Once McClintock had exited the room he closed the heavy hatch behind them, sealing the room's eerie ambiance within.
"Well, that was something, wasn't it?" he asked the millionaire
McClintock nodded. "I'll never forget this, Jameson. It's like we stepped back in time, and I can't shake the feeling that the past is watching us."
As they walked away from the CIC to explore more of the O-1 Level, Lindley wondered about the countless stories and secrets that the Delphi's CIC held within its silent walls. Though there were no apparitions or paranormal phenomena to be found, the room's history and the memories of those who served there made it a place where the past felt hauntingly present.
Battlestar Delphi Third Deck:
Emergency Generator Room:
Inside the bowels of the Delphi's Third Deck, amidst a labyrinthine maze of narrow hallways and dimly lit corridors, Electrician's Mates Reginald Essery and Joseph Bethell found themselves in an eerily silent emergency generator room. Their flashlights cut through the oppressive darkness, revealing the decrepit machinery that lay dormant. Cobwebs hung in the corners like spectral curtains, and the air was heavy with the scent of rust and petrol.
"Are you sure about this, Reggie?" Bethell asked, his voice trembling slightly. "This ship's got a bad reputation for a reason."
Essery, undeterred, flashed an eager grin. "Come on, Joe, it's all just superstition. Besides, we all know that ghosts aren't real. Let's try to get this generator working."
Bethell agreed and began inspecting the ancient generator. They traced wires, checked switches, and examined rusted panels. Time had not been kind to this forgotten corner of the ship. There were containers of spare petrol left in case the generator ever needed to be used. While ships ran on tylium, petrol was further refined and distilled for the purpose of making these types of engines run. It was a job neither of them had expected to be quite so challenging.
Bethell wiped sweat from his forehead and glanced at Essery his expression tense. "Reggie, are you sure this thing is even salvageable? It looks like it's been sitting here for a century."
Essery, a grizzled veteran with decades of experience, grunted in response. "We've been tasked with getting it up and running. We don't have much choice. It's the only backup power source left on this tub."
Neither man was not sure how much time had passed, but it felt like hours to each of them and the generator still had not turned over. Bethell huddled over a mass of wires, circuitry, and a stubbornly uncooperative generator. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead cast eerie shadows on their furrowed brows and grease-streaked faces.
Essery wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Joe, this thing's been nothing but trouble since we got here. It's like it's got a mind of its own."
They began their work, examining the generator's innards with a mixture of awe and trepidation. They spread dusty manuals and faded schematics across a makeshift table as they traced wires, checked connections, and assessed the damage inflicted by time and neglect. Time passed, marked by the groaning of metal and the occasional sound off in the distance. They simply chalked it up to the other groups on the ships and continued their work. The generator remained stubbornly silent. Bethell's frustration was palpable.
"Reggie, we've checked everything, and I can't find a single issue. It should be working by now." his voice tinged with frustration.
Essery was never one to back down from a challenge, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Let's try bypassing the control panel just to see if the generator itself is functional."
They disconnected wires, spliced others together, and prayed for a miracle. As Essery flipped the makeshift switch they had rigged up, there was a glimmer of hope as the generator's massive engine roared to life, sending vibrations through the floor.
"Finally," Bethell exclaimed with relief. "Now, all we need to do is reconnect it to the ship's systems."
Ultimately, their triumph was short-lived. The generator sputtered, coughed, and fell silent once more. Bethell slammed his hand on the control panel in frustration. "Gods, give us a break!"
Essery's eyes darted around the dimly lit chamber, and then he spotted it. There was a corroded wire, barely holding on, like a lifeline in the dark. He reached for it and motioned for Bethell to come over to him.
"Joe, I think I found the problem."
Bethell hurried over and squinted at the damaged wire. "Looks like that's been our culprit all along," he muttered. Together, they painstakingly repaired the wire, securing it with a makeshift splice.
With bated breath, they gave the generator one more try. As Essery hit the switch, the engine roared to life once more, a sound that felt like victory echoing through the old ship's belly. This time there would be no sputter to announce that they had failed, instead it showed no signs that it would stop.
Bethell could not help but smile as he watched the generator's steady hum. "We did it, Reggie. I wasn't sure if we were going to get it done."
Essery clapped Bethell on the shoulder, his eyes bright with relief. "You did good, Joe. Now, let's get this power back to the ship before that storm hits us."
They worked tirelessly to start reconnecting the generator to more of the ship's systems. The lights began to flicker to life throughout the deck. There was work to go, but in time they would have power going at full strength throughout the Delphi.
"You know, I never thought we'd get that old generator going, but we did," Bethell admitted.
"Sometimes, all it takes is a little persistence. We got the power back when it mattered most," Essery said.
The generator's roar was a testament to their tenacity, echoing through the ship as the two men went to work to establish connections with all levels of the ship to get the lights going again at full strength.
Transport Shuttle
Kaiser rested his head against the headrest of his seat and looked out at the ships of the Inactive Reserve. He thought of each of them the times he had ferried the crew members to each of them at one point in time or another. The Delphi had even been one of his occasional visits, but nothing had been quite like this one.
"Should we try to get that airlock to open?" Ashfield asked.
The thought had been tempting, especially if the crew needed to get off of the ship. The way it had acted earlier when it had shut suddenly had made him leery about trying to get it to open and stay open. When he thought it over there was only one proper course of action that stood out to him and that was to contact Towner to try to get help.
"I'm going to get a hold of headquarters to see if I can get us some extra help," he said.
"Why don't we detach from here and go one other on the ship?"
The thought was tempting, but not something he was going to consider. There was an entire list of reasons for him to give her, but only one really seemed to hold true for him.
"Not without Colonel Lindley's approval, especially if they need to get someone off of the ship. Communications are still down with them, I can't take that risk," he said.
"I trust you," she said and went to go sit back down by Sumner.
"Mayday! Mayday! This is Lieutenant Kaiser! We've experienced catastrophic electrical failure. Requesting immediate assistance!" he said through the radio.
Moments later, he heard the voice of Radioman Third Class Andrew Towner from the Inactive Reserve Fleet Headquarters.
""Yeah, yeah, Lieutenant. I hear you, sir," he said.
"Towner, this is an emergency so I'll forgive you this time but we need help here on the Delphi immediately," Kaiser said as he tried to keep his frustration in check.
"Of course, Lieutenant, the Twins were on and I got too focused on it."
"Towner," he said, his voice cold, "this isn't a game out here. Lives are on the line, and we can't afford to have a crew member who ignores their responsibilities for personal entertainment."
"Fine, let's get this over with," he muttered, "I'll look at the duty logs and stay on top of them to get you help."
Kaiser knew Towner had been following the Gemenon Twins closely and was a diehard fan, but this was taking that fandom to an entirely different level. Still, he could get them help and he would sort him out later once he got Colonel Lindley involved. In the vastness of space, where every decision could mean life or death, there was no room for distraction or neglect of duty.
Inactive Reserve Headquarters:
Communications Room:
Towner sat at the console while the pyramid game continued to play. He knew that there would be consequences from Kaiser, and maybe from Colonel Lindley too, but it was nothing he could not talk his way out of.
"You're welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some post-game analysis to catch up on."
He ended the connection and focused on the game again. Every so often he would glance over at the console that now showed a red light that blinked off and on to show that another urgent call had come in. With the way the game had gone, and it had ended in a Gemenon loss which only made his mood more sour. All he could think was that if he had focused completely on the game instead of the drama from Lieutenant Kaiser the outcome would have been different.
"What's going on, Towner? Why is the communication console flashing?"
He looked and saw Radioman Julian Altman, who was due to relieve him in another hour. Seeing him this early was a bit of a surprise, and the last thing he wanted was for him to know what was going on. Especially since there was a chance it might be used to make him look bad.
"Hey Altman, it's... it's just a minor signal from a nearby vessel. They're requesting assistance, but it doesn't seem urgent," he said.
"You know what Colonel Lindley says about every distress call being urgent? What's the nature of their request?" Altman asked.
"Well, it seems like they're experiencing some engine trouble, but they say they can manage for now. It's not a life-or-death situation."
As best as he could recall the best way he to tell a lie was to tell enough of a truth to where it could be believable before they put the embellishment into play. Here, Kaiser had experienced some kind of trouble but it was nothing the flyboy could not handle. Now he just had to figure out how to put Altman at ease so that he would leave him alone.
"Listen, Julian, I'll contact them again and leave the information for you to follow up when you relieve me," he said.
"Sounds good, see you in an hour," Altman said and then he walked away.
With him gone, now Towner had to come up with a plan to satisfy him and keep himself in the clear. All he had to do was think of a way to edit the communication logs and plant enough of a trail that if Altman tried to go down it he would be led to exactly where he wanted him to go.
Battlestar Delphi O-1 Level:
Commanding Officer's Quarters:
Lindley and McClintock walked down the corridors of the O-1 Level towards the Commanding Officer's Quarters of the Delphi. Due to the conversion of the ship into a battlestar the room was located on the same level as the CIC and served as both an in-port and an at-space cabin when it was on deployment. The lights coming on had helped to make the travel along the deck easier, and that was considered a stroke of good fortune for them. Lindley noted the faded, but still impressive, insignias of squadrons long disbanded that adorned the walls. The battlestar had seen battles, hosted generations of sailors, and now stood as a silent testament to a time when it was one of the battlestars that ruled the stars.
"Tell me, Mr. McClintock, why do you want this ship so badly?" he asked.
"The grandeur of the Colonial Fleet and its role in shaping our history had always fascinated me. When I learned about the plans to scrap the Delphi, I saw an opportunity to make my dream a reality," he said.
Finally, they arrived at the Commanding Officer's quarters, a spacious and elegantly appointed suite that once belonged to the highest-ranking officer on the ship. The massive wooden door creaked as he pushed it open, revealing a room that time had left untouched. Mahogany paneling adorned the walls, and antique furniture stood in silent testimony to the luxury the ship's commanding officer once enjoyed. Along with the paneling and furniture there were framed photographs that told the story of the Delphi's glory days. Lindley watched as McClintock marveled at the history surrounding him, while he allowed himself a moment to feel a deep sense of respect for the ship that had been his home for so many years.
"This place is incredible," McClintock muttered, his eyes scanning the room in awe.
Lindley nodded in agreement, as his military-trained eyes took in every detail of the quarters. "It's like stepping back in time," he replied.
As they explored further, their attention was drawn to an old communications panel. Dust-covered buttons and switches suggested it had not been touched in decades. Lindley reached out and brushed his fingers over the ancient controls, causing the panel to emit a low hum.
Suddenly, a burst of static crackled from a nearby speaker, startling both men. The hair on the back of their necks stood on end as an eerie voice emerged from the ancient intercom.
The equipment crackled to life, and a sinister voice emerged from the static, filling the room with dread.
"You shouldn't have come," it hissed. "This is our ship now."
