Author's Notes: I'm basing the CIC of the Artemis class battlestar on the TOS Core Command, which I think is fitting. Just imagine it looking more in line with Galactica's CIC from the Re-imagined series, and definitely with less orange. I also hope you enjoy the other homages to the original series scattered here and there.
Battlestar Galactica, and Battlestar Galactica: Deadlock, along with any places, characters, and such do not belong to me, but to Universal Studios and Black Lab Games, respectively.
Chapter Three
"This wouldn't be the last time we went running from Caprica to Ragnar, seemingly only one step ahead of the Cylons. IDRIS was our last real advantage over the toasters. It was a known fact that Cylon jump computers were several steps ahead of ours, even in the early days of the war. Leave it to robots to be able to create better computers than we could. Now without it, our fleets required at least two jumps just to be able to get between systems, stretching our supply lines even farther. It was as Commander York had said, a brand-new war. I hadn't even gotten used to the old one yet."
It took another two days before Daidalos finally jumped into orbit of the gas giant Ragnar. The entire CIC crew had poured over charts looking for any known planetary body that could be used as an intermediary jump point between Helios Alpha and Gamma. It was an uncomfortable day and a half in orbit of Caprica, during which the enraged owners of what were now tiny debris fields close to Caprica Terminal boarded the station to yell at Admiral Cain or, when she wasn't available, Commander Erik York. Wishing strongly he could order his marines to forcibly remove them from the station, York took the haranguing as best as he could.
The only bright side of their extended stay in orbit was that the Cylons did not make another appearance. IDRIS was still compromised, but the toasters seemed to be letting Daidalos get away without further bloodshed. Not believing that for a moment, Cain kept the entire fleet group at Condition Two, with half the crews on all ships at their posts at any time.
It was Lieutenant Agathon who discovered their way home. Cocalus, a moon sized planet within an asteroid field, was a Tauron owned mining colony that had been abandoned at the onset of the war. It seemed perfectly placed between the two systems to be used as a halfway point. More than ready to leave, Cain ordered an intermediary jump to Cocalus.
The Cylons, however, had been prepared for this course and had a strike group waiting at Cocalus for them.
"It appears that someone really doesn't want us leaving Helios Alpha" remarked Sinon dryly in the CIC, watching the battle unfold. There wasn't a basestar present, for which Command York was very relieved, but the Cylons had sent along some muscle. In addition to their usual corvettes and frigates, in the center of their formation flew a Revenant-class gunship. These ships bristled with guns that would literally melt the armor off a ship, even a battlestar.
Acropolis made straight for it along with her consorts, firing her large caliber bow guns and angling to present her best gunnery angle. Blue and orange tracers flew furiously between the two ships, and fires broke out as armor plating fell away.
"Commander, Acropolis reports damage to its port flight pod. It's asking if we can take her fighters aboard when we jump."
Before York could answer, Cain broke in. It seemed the nerves of being trapped had once again made her forget that FG Daidalos was his command. "Signal affirmative. Order the Lydia and the Arbiter to move in and give fire support. I want that Revenant down."
York bristled slightly at this but held his tongue. Cain's mood was not in a place where she would brook any argument as to who was in command. Ignoring his irritation, he focused on the DRADIS display, watching the red blips start to blink out. When the mark labeled 'Revenant" disappeared, cheers broke out. It seemed as though once again FG Daidalos had emerged from a battle without losing a ship.
"Admiral, I'm detecting a distress signal from the last Cylon ship! It's calling for help" reported Lieutenant Agathon.
"Order the fleet to take it out, now!" Cain yelled.
Five minutes and one last explosion later, the DRADIS was cold, no hostiles. All seven ships started sending in damage reports, the worst of which was Acropolis. Her entire port side was blackened, and several small fires billowed from the flight pod. She pulled to a stop close in to Daidalos, as a child pulls close to its mother when they scrape their knee.
"Commander" came a voice from behind him. He turned to see a comms specialist handing him a sheet of paper. It was from Acropolis' XO, Lt. Colonel Melissa Melville. Report loss of CO, Acropolis. Report to follow.
So, the battlestar's commander hadn't made it. York had admired him a great deal. He had been very easy going, a stark contrast to Admiral Cain, but when he was in command, he didn't need to pull rank to get his people to go the extra mile for him. Crumpling the message form, York returned to the plotting table.
"We are go to jump to Helios Gamma as soon as Acropolis is moored, Admiral." Reported Agathon.
"I'll sleep better when I can see Ragnar again. I don't think I've had more than four hours of rack time since Picon" added Sinon, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
"We aren't safe yet. I want the Daidalos under the cover of Ragnar's clouds before the Cylons can attack us again." Cain ordered.
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
Ragnar was the safe place, the refuge from the Cylons. Before their creation, it had just been a largely ignored gas giant that orbited the Helios Gamma-Delta barycenter. Several years before the rebellion a smuggler running Cylon combat models to Sagittaron had fled into the storm's upper atmosphere in an attempt to avoid a customs patrol. It hadn't worked. The patrol had found him and boarded the ship. When the robots had been activated weeks later, it was discovered that their silica pathways, what to a Cylon would be their nervous system, had degraded beyond repair.
Graystone Industries, the creators of the Cylons, spent months trying to figure out the failure before determining that there was something in the swirling green clouds of Ragnar that damaged Cylon technology. This had remained a closely guarded corporate secret until after the Caprican Rebellion, when Graystone Industries was forced to hand over all of its files to Colonial Fleet. So far, the Cylons had stayed away from Ragnar, which only confirmed the theory that it was safe, at least to some.
For Angela Vale, it reminded her of the thunderstorms that used to hit her families farm on Tauron. She fingered her collar absent mindedly running her thumb over the new rank insignia there. After their arrival in system, Commander York had summoned her and informed her that with the death of Acropolis' CAG in the battle at Cocalus, she was taking over for as the fleet group's CAG.
"I need you to form the fighters we have left into the best force you can. Something tells me Cain won't be keeping us here hidden for long." York had told her, sliding the small felt lined box across the table. In it were two gleaming golden diamonds with three chevrons embossed on them, the pins of a Major.
"Congratulations, Major Vale."
"Thank you, sir." She had said before saluting and leaving his quarters. Pinning the new devices to her collar had sent thrills down her spine. At 25 she was the youngest CAG in the fleet group, and now she was in charge of over a hundred pilots. Calming the nerves that flooded her at the thought, she left the window she had been gazing out of for fifteen minutes now and made her way to the squadron ready room.
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
The War Room was full when Commander York arrived, summoned by Cain to a senior officers briefing. Close to the plotting table stood Cain, flanked by Helena Agathon and Sinon Quade. Arrayed in a loose grouping were the six remaining COs of FG Daidalos. York knew all of them and nodded. For Acropolis, Colonel Melville stood in, her cheek and forehead bright red with untreated burns. Behind their commanders stood the exec's and squadron leaders, including a newly arrived colonel who was replacing York as Daidalos' XO, craning their necks to see past their superiors.
"Now that Commander York is here, we can begin," said Cain. "You all know what has occurred over the past few days. The Cylons have apparently managed to construct a large enough fleet to match anything a single colony can field to defend themselves. I've received updates from our fleet groups in the Helios Alpha, Beta, and Gamma star systems and they report a significant upsurge in Cylon attacks. That being said, their basestars don't seem to be showing their heads since Picon and Scorpia. Unfortunately, our fleet in Helios Delta was destroyed yesterday over Canceron."
Several mutters and curses broke out at this news. Major Grimsely, commander of the Arbiter, growled "While the Canceran fleet was nowhere to be found I bet."
"That is unknown currently" Cain replied darkly. "What we do know is that this war has just started for real. Any speculation we've had about the Cylon's war capabilities up until this point is moot. I've already been on the phone with the Quorum demanding more ships be transferred to Colonial Fleet control in order to bolster our numbers. With those ships, and the dissolution of FG Daidalos, we can hold the line for now."
More muttering and several glances between the assembled officers broke out. "Admiral?" asked Commander York.
"Yes, I cannot in good conscience keep an entire fleet group assigned to this station, no matter how vital it is. I am reinstating Battlestar Group-30 under the Acropolis as an independent unit. Word on it's commander will be announced shortly. Daidalos will be returning to her former berth at Scorpia in four days, once the repairs to Acropolis are completed. BSG-30 will accompany us. You all have until then to make what repairs you need. Coordinate with Sinon for yard time if you need it. I want this group ready for extended operations when we arrive at Scorpia. Colonel Greeley, I need a word. The rest of you are dismissed." She ended briskly. Before York could move Cain turned to him. "Commander, wait a moment."
The officers filed from the room mumbling to each other. The tall colonel York had seen earlier stepped closer and waited. Out of the corner of his eye York attempted to get a read on the man. He was tall, maybe even an inch or two taller than York was himself, with brown hair and beard. He stood rigidly, waiting for the Admiral to speak.
"Colonel Greeley is the sole surviving senior officer from Fleet Headquarters. I had intended to assign him as your executive officer, Commander York, but recent developments have changed those plans."
"Sir?" York asked.
"If we're to get a handle on this war, we need offensive forces out there actively repelling these Cylon incursions. With our current fleets stuck in defensive assignments, the toasters have the initiate. That needs to change. You are hereby reassigned to command the Battlestar Acropolis and BSG-30. Colonel Greeley will remain with me here aboard Daidalos as your relief."
York swallowed; his mouth suddenly dry. "T-thank you, Admiral." He stammered, hoping it wasn't too noticeable.
"I want the change of command to take place tomorrow, so bring Colonel Greeley up to speed on all projects. I also authorize you to take any officers you need to fill out your new crew. Colonel, I'm sure you have much to do, you're dismissed."
"May I ask what our assignment will be?" York asked as Greeley saluted and left the room.
"Lieutenant?"
Agathon reached across the table and handed him a file marked 'top secret.' Ripping open the tape he saw a list of the five, now four, fleet groups currently operating with Colonial Fleet. Beside BSG-30 was written 'Special Assignments.'
"You will not be attached to any one location. Instead, you will report directly to me and take care of any assignments I need carried out. Your first mission will be to follow us to Scorpia. In our absence the Cylons have been raiding constantly, and the shipyards are a mess. I'm sending Lieutenant Agathon with you. She is to act in whatever capacity you need, and will relay any orders I have for your group to you."
"Admiral, who will have responsibility for defending this station without the Commander's ships?" asked Sinon. It seemed that the thought of being in the line of fire any longer was making him uncomfortable.
"Scorpia will be forming a group from their own ships to take over that post."
"And what made them agree to that?" Sinon asked.
"Classified, Mr. Quade." Cain replied shortly. "In any case, you all have jobs to do. Dismissed."
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
"Hand me that circuit board" grunted Specialist Sarah Rigel around the flashlight in her mouth. In order to get to the fried electronics, she had managed to squeeze her entire torso into the access hatch under the Comm panel. It was the downside of being the one of the smallest people aboard the Battlestar Acropolis, as well as arguably the best electronics expert they had. Anytime someone was needed to fit into a cramped space they called on her.
"Try it now" she called to her partner as she attached the last connection to the board. A moment later the many cards and circuits around her began to hum as power was restored and cooling fans activated.
"No good. Still just getting hash" came the response.
"Frak. We're going to have to rip this thing apart." Sarah said, starting to pull herself out of the console.
The CIC outside was alive with the sounds of other crews performing repairs, as well as the arcing of a welder over near the large display grid that dominated the entire rear wall. Most of the systems were still offline for repairs, and Rigel was starting to worry that Admiral Cain's order for them to jump tomorrow to Scorpia wasn't going to be possible. True, the civilians that Daidalos had sent over were a help, but civies were usually more trouble than they were worth, in her opinion anyway. From the upper tier of the room the watch officer, a freshly arrived lieutenant that she hadn't bothered to learn the name of yet watched. "How's it going?" she called down.
"We're working on it, sir." She answered before starting to slide her way along the crew pit. The CIC of these old ships were nothing like the ones being designed now. A roughly circular room, it was divided into three levels, with the CO and XO standing on a small rotating platform in the center, looking over the navigation station one level below them. In front of them was the half circle crew pit where Rigel and six other crew manned the various stations needed to operate the ship.
Near the steps out of the pit was a rack of spare parts, brought up here by a supply officer who was tired of constantly being bothered for specific items, and Rigel gathered several components into her arms. She hoped it wouldn't take too many of these to get the comm station working again. Technically it did already work, but not if you wanted to be able to talk to anyone more than a click or two away without sounding like you were at the bottom of a well.
"Commander on deck!" a marine shouted near one of the hatches into the room. Rigel was just looking for a convenient place to drop her armful of parts and snap to attention when a male voice said "As you were."
Word had come down two days ago they were getting a new commander but so far, he'd been too busy to visit. That suited Sarah just fine. She did her job to the best of her ability, and didn't let the people in the blue coats bother her too much. There were officers she liked of course, she had the highest respect for her last CO, gods rest his soul, and the colonel was ok. Sticking her head up just enough to catch a glimpse of him, she didn't think he looked like anything special. Colonel Melville was following him, explaining the progress of the repairs. She had finally found, or been ordered to take, the time to get her face looked at and fresh bandages covered her burns.
The explosion that had devastated the CIC during the last battle, which had killed the commander and almost a third of the crew on duty, had come when a group of Cylon torpedoes had exploded against the hull about thirty feet above their heads. The large console that took up part of the upper tier had erupted and thrown him almost ten feet. He probably hadn't even known what had happened. I hope it's that fast for me when I go Rigel said to herself, shuddering at the memory of the burned corpses of her crewmates and friends being carried out on stretchers.
"What's your name, crewman?" a voice called down. Looking up she was surprised to see the new CO looking down at her.
"Specialist Sarah Rigel, Comms." She answered.
She saw his eyes run over the blackened station that was clearly not functioning. "What's the prognosis?"
"A few cards are toast. I hope we'll have it online by tomorrow." She said, exaggerating slightly. It never hurt to come in under a deadline and look impressive to the new skipper.
"Anything you need, let me know and we'll get it for you." Commander York said before moving off.
"Huh" Sarah muttered before setting down her burdens on the floor next to the console and pulling herself back into the maze of wiring. "Maybe he won't be useless after all."
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
On the starboard hangar deck, still the only usable one, Major Vale was getting her viper situated. The nameplate below the cockpit now read 'Maj. Angela Vale' and in larger letters underneath 'Hades." It was clear that the rank had recently been changed, as the space it occupied on the metal was cleaner than the rest of her fighter was. Unlike some CAGs who insisted that the fighters in their squadrons look inspection perfect despite combat conditions, Vale had always insisted that she would rather her crews focus on performance rather than vanity. The only exception to that of course were the kill cards.
"Major" called an older man in the orange jumpsuit of a deckhand. That is, it was originally orange but was now covered in grime. He threw her a salute, accidentally flinging a glob of grease to the deck. "Chief Blears, I'm the crew chief for this pod."
"Chief" she responded, returning the salute. "You been working on one of my birds?"
"Yes, sir. One of the rooks lost her primary aviation control during landing and she had what you might call a controlled crash."
"Viper?" Vale asked.
"No sir, Raptor."
"Carry on, chief." She said
"Aye, sir. I should tell you, Dumbbell, that is to say Captain Carmine is looking for you."
"Do you usually refer to officers like that, chief?" she asked.
"That's his call sign, sir. He's the senior pilot aboard, or was."
"Got it. Thanks, chief." She picked up her duffel bag and climbed an access ladder to the catwalk above, disappearing through a hatch.
One of the perks of being aboard a battlestar was the intricate trolley system that the pilots could use to quickly get from their quarters and ready rooms to the flight pods. It also was one of the few systems still functioning normally during the repairs. As it rattled along, Angela took a deep breath. Commander York had found her not an hour after the briefing with Admiral Cain and told her about his new assignment, asking her to come with him. He needed a CAG he could trust and knew he worked well with, he said. Well, anything's better than going back to being chained to the shipyards, waiting for the Cylons to come get us. Scuttlebutt was that BSG-30 was about to go do some hush hush work for Cain, and that interested her.
Her immediate concern was getting a handle on her new squadrons. As CAG, she was taking over direct command of Blue Squadron, which flew alongside Red, Green, and Yellow. Almost every ship in the fleet color coded their squadrons for easy identification, and most battlestars used the same colors. This had led to confusion in the past when squadrons with the same color identifier flew together, prompting some CAGs to come up with more original names for their squadrons.
The trolley came to a stop alongside three others, two for each flight pod, and she hefted her bag again. The hatch squeaked open as she tugged and she emerged into pilot's country. Located in the lower rear of the "alligator head", as it was traditionally known, the pilots aboard an Artemis-class battlestar lived in what most treated as a self contained environment. Down here in ten duty lockers slept, at full complement, eighty Viper pilots, ten Raptor pilots, and their ECO's. Interspersed through the area were heads, ready rooms, as well as a gym/recreation center. The only time a pilot had to venture beyond their sacred territory was for meals or down to the flight pods. It was a tradition that unless you had wings on your chest or a sufficiently high rank on your collar, you stayed out of these hallowed grounds.
Angela passed a bunkroom that looked very similar to the one she had just left aboard Daidalos. Ten bunks, five above five below, and a long table down the center made up the room, with lockers positioned between the racks. Above the door was stenciled 'Blue Devils' which she took to mean Blue Squadron. Selecting an empty bunk, she dumped her duffel bag and looked around. One of the bunks had a curtain drawn across it, but it opened at the sound of her bag thumping on the mattress.
"Hey, that's-" the voice said before cutting off, the owner recognizing the rank insignia if not the officer. She sprang to out onto the floor and jumped to attention, a bad bruise covering one of her arms.
"At ease. Your name, pilot?"
"Ensign Alessia Stone, sir." She answered. She had a higher voice than Angela had been expecting at first glance.
"Viper or Raptor?"
"Raptor pilot, sir. Welcome aboard." Alessia said.
"Thanks. Now, what were you saying?"
"Its…nothing, sir."
"Whose rack was this, Ensign?" Vale asked.
"Choker's, my ECO, sir. I'd flown with him since we joined up together."
Vale nodded, understanding the younger woman's pain. "Understood. Now, where can I find someone called Dumbbell?"
"The captain? He's probably in the Rec Center." Stone said.
"Thanks. As you were." Vale said, leaving the room.
The rec center, which was also half gymnasium, reeked of sweat and fumarella leaf. The room itself was a large rectangle, with weights, work out equipment, and a boxing arena closer to the door, and a large number of tables on the far side. Pilots in various states of dress were scattered here and there, but most of them were crowded around one table in the corner. Based on the sounds everyone was making, there was one hell of a card game taking place.
Three men and two women were watching each other, each trying to detect some sign or tell on their opponents. Bets and mutters from the surrounding crowd added to the tension. Angela joined the crowd at the rear, and at the sight of her one of the pilots next to her started to react to her presence. She shushed him with a finger and moved closer. The hand ended when a blonde woman who was called 'Sheba' took the pot with full colors. Groans filled the air and under their cover Vale moved up to the table.
"Deal me in" she said breezily, sitting down at the empty seat.
The atmosphere went from jovial to close in seconds. Sheba dealt, and the game began, this time in total silence. Angela played a losing hand to the end, it helped that no one seemed to want to bet against her. When the pilot she was pretty sure was Carmine set down three on a run, the game ended. Deciding it was time to be somewhere else, most of the crowd dispersed.
"Not bad, Captain." Vale said, sliding her cards to him.
"You either, Major. Welcome aboard." Carmine said. He was a large man, and she wondered inwardly how he was able to fit in the cockpit of a viper.
"Lets hear the rundown on these squadrons." She answered, picking up the deck and shuffling idly. Mostly the news was good. They were flying at eighty percent compliment and word had come down that replacements were waiting for them at Scorpia. He seemed a proficient enough administrator, and she didn't detect any sign that he resented being passed over for command.
"Which squadron's yours?" She asked.
"Blue Devils, Raptor Squadron." That explained how he could fit, Angela thought. Raptor squadrons were the exceptions to a lot of rules. Most ships carried Raptors for use as transports or scouts, even if they didn't carry Vipers, but only on a battlestar or larger installation were they organized into formal squadrons. This being the case, they generally ignored the color coding and came up with more creative names for themselves.
"So Captain-" Vale started before she was cut off.
"Call me Carmine, everyone does."
"Alright, Carmine, I have one question." She continued, "What kind of call sign is Dumbbell?"
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
Despite the pessimistic projections of his new XO, Acropolis was ready to jump the next day and was mostly back to fighting condition. Around the clock crews had replaced the scorched and broken armor plates on the port side and repaired the internal damage as best as they could. The port flight pod was operational again and the Vipers that had temporarily been taken in by Daidalos were landing now.
"Colonel, as soon as the planes are landed I want to go around the horn, make sure there are no issues before we jump. Who knows what we're going to face when we land." York said to Melissa Melville, who was standing next to him on the upper tier of the CIC. Seated next to them at the control console was Lieutenant Agathon.
"Aye, sir." Melville answered.
They hadn't had much time to get to know each other in the hustle of getting their ship ready to fight again. He could tell the crew respected her, which was a good sign. This was a very different feeling than his last command. Adamant frigates were short on space, and that held true to their command centers. Half a dozen crew and three officers shoehorned into what might be charitably called a closet was what he had been used to. Daidalos' CIC had been big enough for him, and now he had all of this.
Ten minutes later the ship reported ready to jump in all aspects. From her seat next to them, Agathon began the count down to the jump with her usual crisp precision. Down below him, York saw the man currently operating the navigation controls insert the glowing blue jump key into it's slot. When Agathon's voice reached four seconds, the jump key was turned and the Acropolis was pulled into oblivion.