Author's notes: As there is no Switzerland is the Cyrranus system, I had to find an equivalent maker of very fine watches.
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 Seven
"I'd never been to Virgon before, and certainly never invited to the Petrus Palace. It was a gorgeous structure of white marble and blue glass. We enjoyed the hospitality of the Her Royal Highness Queen Angela for two days while Acropolis was worked on by the largest of Virgon's shipyards. That's when we heard what the Cylons had done. I thought kidnapping thousands of innocent people was as bad as it could be, but they decided to prove me wrong. Aerilon and Sagittaron, both planets that had so far been on the quiet end of the war, were now being decimated by bombardment. Not with missiles and torpedoes though, but chemical weapons. Shore leaves were cancelled immediately, and BSG-30 was dispatched from Picon with a medical team to meet us at Virgon. When the raptor picked us up at the palace, I remember taking one last look at the palace and hoping that something so beautiful would somehow survive this terrible war unscathed. The Cylons blew it up less then a year later."
Stifling a yawn, Lieutenant j.g. Martinez watching the DRADIS screen over his head. As the junior most OOD aboard the Adamant-class Frigate Bastet, he had drawn the 2300-0300 watch tonight. It was still clear so he took another sip of lukewarm coffee. His ship, along with a three of Bastet's sisters and two Berzerk-class Carriers were on guard over Aerilon. While part of the recently reformed Fleet Group Delta, they had been detached for this assignment three days earlier. Scuttlebutt had it some op at Canceron had gone sideways a few weeks ago and Command was trying to make Colonial Fleet's presence more visible to soothe frayed civie nerves. It was supposed to make for good PR anyway. The CIC was quiet, with the half dozen crewers chattering in low tones and the whirring hum of the DRADIS. In a way he liked the late shifts. It somehow felt more relaxed. Of course, he knew what his CO would say about that. He should have listened better.
Out in the darkness, an enemy fleet appeared centered around three basestars and a type of ship as yet unmet by humans. Klaxons blared aboard the Colonial Ships and vipers were launched while gun batteries were brought to bear. It was futile. The Cylons had brought more than enough firepower to brush aside the pitiful Colonial resistance and accomplish its mission. Aerilon's fleet was on the opposite side of the planet in a practice maneuver, too far out of range and too weak to stop what happened next. Missiles launched from the Cylon ships, carrying a deadly new weapon. They impacted in the cities, but didn't explode. Crowds began to gather around the canisters that had been dropped, scared to touch them but not scared enough to run. Not until they started releasing huge plumes of white gas into the sky.
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
On a vidscreen in his suite in the guest wing of the Petrus Palace, Erik York watched in shock as a news segment was broadcast live from Aerilon. A young man, whose light brown face was covered in protective cloths, was shouting into a microphone over the hubbub around him. Police landrams were moving behind him down a street crowded with civilian vehicles.
"Thanks Trish, I'm standing here in the city of Promethea on the edge of the Badlands. All around me citizens are being evacuated following this latest bombardment from the Cylons. It has now been over eight hours since the attacks began, and already hospitals are over flowing with those who have inhaled the gas. Similar reports are coming in from Gaoth and other settlements but the largest concentration of impacts seem to be in this area. Emergency facilities are being set up in school gyms."
"Alex can you tell us if anyone has died yet as a result of this gas?" asked an off screen host from the newsroom.
"Everything I'm hearing says no, but that's in no way confirmed. Police and military forces are urging everyone to consider the gas as fatally poisonous until it can be proved otherwise. Mandatory evacuations of the effected areas are in force."
The screen shifted and a pretty woman with black hair's face appeared. "Thanks Alex, get out of there safely. The Government of Aerilon has issued the following bulletin, calling for all reserve military units to report to their muster stations and for civilians to being stockpiling supplies in any settlement not currently under attack. With no sign of Colonial Fleet in sight, many outspoken critics of the fleet have called for Admiral Cain's resignation, and the immediate delivery of the next completed Jupiter battlestar to Aerilon-"
York turned off the screen in disgust. "Of course," he muttered into the silence. There had been no mention at all of the six Colonial Fleet ships that had been destroyed or the lives lost. No criticism of Aerilon's fleet for being caught flat footed when three baseships jump into orbit? No argument that Aerilon should be spending more of it's budget on defense then police crackdowns? No, let's just blame Colonial Fleet for why this happened rather than admit their own failures. York knew that orders were on their way by a courier raptor. His bag was already packed and readied by the door. Acropolis had signaled the palace twenty minutes ago that the rest of her battlestar group had arrived along with a trio of medical ships. The word was to await orders and then jump immediately.
There was a knock on the finely carved wooden door and Lieutenant Helena Agathon entered at his call.
"Sir, Dumbbell just contacted. ETA ten minutes."
"Very good, is the rest of the landing party assembled?"
"Aye, sir. Major Vale is already at the landing pad. Major Kona reports that his marines have found most of our people on leave. He says everyone will be back aboard within the hour."
"Well, lets bid farewell to our hosts and get back to the war, Lieutenant." York said, shouldering his bag and proceeding her out the door.
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
"Acropolis this is Raptor 80, returning with Acropolis Actual and shore party. Request permission to land."
"Roger Dumbbell. Permission granted. Please inform the commander that the courier just arrived with orders."
Dumbbell turned in his seat to look back at York who nodded acknowledgement. "Wilco, Acropolis. Approaching outer marker, awaiting landing instructions."
From his seat in the rear compartment at the ECO's console, Commander York pondered just what would be waiting for him when he opened his next set of orders. The original plan after dropping off His Royal Highness, Prince Stefan of Virgon, had been to return to his station protecting Picon. Perhaps he had completed whatever penance Admiral Cain felt sufficient for the debacle at Canceron and he was back in her good graces.
Dumbbell landed the Raptor on the fourth of the six elevators inside the flight deck, the one closest to the forward causeway. Colonel Melissa Melville was there waiting for them on the hangar deck when the raptor was pulled to a stop. Standing beside her was Colonel Constance Chapman, Commander of the Ranger-class cruiser Xerxes, and the senior officer of the battlestar group after York. Both officers crisply saluted as he emerged from the plane and waited for him to return the gesture.
"Colonel Chapman, I wasn't expecting to see you here." He said as the three of them began to walk towards an access ladder. Feeling a need to stretch his legs after two days of relative idleness, he passed a waiting trolley and chose the long climb up into the body of the ship.
"I wanted to deliver my report on the events over Picon in person, sir." She said from directly behind him. York had noticed her carrying a folder under her arm. He had half expected it to be his orders.
"Anything exciting in there?" he asked. He hadn't noticed any damage to any of the ships in the group, at least nothing out of the ordinary, on the flight up. Also, according to the DRADIS readout in the raptor all ships were present and accounted for.
"Not really, sir. We had two more attacks and operated in conjunction with Athena, but nothing we couldn't handle."
"I'm glad to hear that Colonel. I've been meaning to thank you for saving my ship during that last battle before we were ordered away on this little jaunt. That was excellent work."
"Just doing my duty, sir." Chapman said.
Up another ladder and through a hatch and they emerged onto deck seven. From here it wasn't far to York's quarters. "What's the latest intel, XO?"
"Sir, you're going to want to wait until we're in private to hear this." Melville replied.
"Understood." York said, his voice going grim.
With the door to his quarters dogged shut, Melville picked up from York's desk a thick envelope sealed with at least three layers of tape and handed it to him. Inside was a complete dossier of Colonial Fleet ships and deployments in the H2 Colonies. Thirty-four ships total, including three battlestars, which was about two-fifths of Colonial Fleet last time he checked. As both Helios Gamma and Delta had so far been on the rear lines of the war, they were receiving less protection from Colonial Fleet then the H1 colonies were. He sat behind his desk while he read, absorbing as much of the file as he could. At the back of the folder were his orders. He read them once before handing them to Chapman.
"Lets get planning." He said.
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
"Attention all ships, this is the Commander." York said into the telephone held upside down in his hand. Battlestar Group 30 was formed up around the Acropolis and jump drives were spooled for the jump to Aerilon. They had arrived at the transit point between Helios Beta and Delta, a small moon codenamed "Helicon", just twenty minutes before. "You all know by now that Cylon fleets have been raining down chemical-based warheads on two of our colonies for the last day. Latest intel puts the fleet over Aerilon at three baseships and almost twenty escorts. Our job is to get those three medical transports into the atmosphere and hold off the Cylons for as long as possible. We should expect no reinforcements from Fleet or colony ships, but we will accomplish our mission. Good Hunting. Acropolis Actual out."
He slammed the phone back into its cradle and looked around the room. Two days of rest and shore leave had done wonders for the spirit of his crew, and resolute looks returned his gaze. They all knew what might happen in the next few hours. There might have been some muttering about the lack of back up, but York was sure there was a reason for it. The plan was simple. The group would jump in, doing their best to avoid detection for as long as possible, and then shield the three medical transports for as long as it took for them to hit dirt, with their very hulls if they had too. Simple enough on paper, but casualty projections were high. Just one of those baseships carried more fighters than Acropolis did. All three of them, along with their escorts, easily carried enough planes to outnumber the colonials two-to-one. York's orders had been to treat the Aerilan military as non existent and not to expect any assistance from them in this mission.
"Begin jump clock." York ordered.
"Aye, sir." Agathon replied and pressed a button on her console. Thirty seconds later BSG-30 vanished in a series of flashes.
"DRADIS contacts! Bearing 0-1-4, carom 0-0-2. I'm reading over twenty hostile marks just over the horizon, planet westward."
"Any sign they've spotted us?" asked York.
"Not so far, sir." Answered Agathon. "I'm also not picking up any raiders, just capital ships."
"Any sign of friendly forces?"
"None, sir."
The Cylons not having any raiders in the air was certainly strange, but it presented an opportunity that they hadn't even hoped for. "Well, we seem to have caught them with their pants down. Launch our birds and lets get those transports groundside." York said, staring down at Agathon's console. The crew went to work issuing orders and updates to the rest of the ships in the group. Fighters took up escort positions around the transports and raptors spread out, looking for the slightest hint of a trap.
A series of chirps from the DRADIS display on the forward screen brought York's head up. The Cylon marks began to vanish. In less than a minute all hostile marks had cleared the screen.
"What the…" he muttered. Something certainly wasn't right here. "Are we getting interference from the planet?"
"No…no, sir. We should still be picking them up clearly."
"Get a raptor out there, I want to know what's going on."
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
Slingshot couldn't believe her eyes either. She had hugged the atmosphere as tightly as possible to mask her DRADIS signature during her approach, but it looked like that hadn't been necessary.
"Bojay, are you seeing this too?"
"Yeah…" he answered, "clear screen"
"Acropolis, this is Slingshot. They're…gone. They jumped away."
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
"What the frak…" York said, turning to face at his XO. She looked just as confused as he was. York faced forward again, his mind racing. If the Cylons had chosen that very moment to run, he was sure it was for a purpose. "Get those ships dirtside, stand down to condition two. Keep all the planes in the air, I don't want to be caught flat footed if this is a trap."
"Aye, sir" answered Specialist Rigel. A moment later, "Sir, I've got a Lieutenant Cottle on the line. He's…he's asking for you directly."
"Cottle? He's supposed to be the one leading that group, right?"
"Yes, sir." Replied Melville, "From what Colonel Chapman told me he's quite…ornery."
Lieutenant Agathon broke in, "Commander, transports two and three have broken atmosphere, but transport one is holding formation with us."
"I see." York said and picked up the phone, gesturing for Melville to do the same with hers. "This is Acropolis Actual. What's the big idea, lieutenant?"
"Commander, my ship is ready to be escorted to Sagittaron." Said a brusque voice broken up by static. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Melville shudder slightly.
"Lieutenant," York said slowly, "your ship is bound for Aerilon. Even if I wanted to take you to Sagittaron I couldn't. So, get your ship on the ground before the Cylons show back up. That's an order."
"You have your duty and I have mine. You can let yours get in the way of treating innocent victims – children gods damn it – if you want. Or, you can take me to Sagittaron and let me do my job."
York let out an exasperated breath and caught his XO's gaze. This was certainly not the situation he expected to be dealing with right now. "Doctor, the Sagittaron border embargo is still in place. The whole planet is off limits to Colonial Fleet."
Cottle let out a sigh of his own then responded firmly, "Let me put this another way, Commander. If you won't give me an escort, my people and I are prepared to take the chance by ourselves. It's up to you."
"We…we can't do that, right sir? We can't break the embargo." Melville whispered.
York held his hand over the receiver. "We also can't just let them throw away their lives like that. They'll never make it without cover. Agathon, what's the status of transports two and three?"
"They've landed, sir. Our vipers are on their way back up."
York nodded and spoke into the phone, "Alright, Lieutenant Cottle. Here's the deal. Your ship will follow us to Gortyn while I transmit your request to Admiral Cain. If, and only if, I get her approval then I will personally escort you and your ship to Sagittaron." Once more out of the corner of his eye he saw Melville make an involuntary shudder.
Static crackled on the line for a moment before Cottle responded. "Deal." York slammed down the phone and shook his head. "Lieutenant Agathon, you have the deck. Stand down to condition three. Order the vipers home and get us out of here. Colonel, I could use your help trying to write up this request to the Admiral. Let's go to my quarters."
"Aye, sir."
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
York closed the door behind them and gestured towards his desk. "Have a seat." As they had walked he had felt the ship make the jump to Gortyn, another of the codenamed transit points between the systems that the loss of IDRIS was forcing them to make use of. Crossing behind her he collapsed into his chair and ran an exasperated hand over his eyes. Trying to puzzle out what the Cylons were up to and how exactly to explain Cottle's demand to Cain without getting his head chewed clean off fought raced around his head. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Melville sitting straight backed and watching him.
"Care for a drink?" York asked, reaching down to open a drawer in his desk. From it he pulled a bottle half full of dark green ambrosia and two small cups.
"Sir, we're on duty. And in a combat area…" protested Melville.
"True, but we'd also probably be dead right now if the Cylons hadn't turned tail. I think that calls for a drink." York replied, pouring two cups and pushing one towards her. She took it, though looked at the contents distastefully.
"What should we drink to?" asked York
"It's your booze, sir" she replied.
"Then let's drink to living another day." He said, raising his cup. She followed suit and took the smallest sip before replacing it on the desk. York took a mouthful and swallowed, reveling in the taste. It was good stuff, almost thirty years old, which was a supposedly good year for Scorpian ambrosia. He wasn't that much of a drinker, especially not while in command of a warship, but sometimes you just needed a drink to deal with a mountain of bullshit.
"Any ideas why the toasters just ran?" he asked.
"None, sir. The only thing that makes sense to me is that they were waiting for us to arrive before leaving."
"That's what I think too, but why? They were clearly the superior force They would have wiped the floor with us."
'The only other option is that they had intended to leave anyway and it was just chance, sir." Melville speculated.
"Yeah" York said. "Well at the end of the day it doesn't really matter. The Cylons accomplished their mission and we look like fools in front of the Colonies. I can only imagine what the Quorum is going to do with this development." Silence fell as they both considered that statement. "And now we've got a rogue army medic who wants an escort to an off-limits planet, and on top of that is threatening to get himself killed if we don't help him."
"Yes, sir."
York considered her again, remembering her reaction in CIC at the thought of going to Sagittaron. "Tell me about yourself, Colonel."
She blinked several times, as though she had never heard this request before. "Sir?"
"Where are you from?" York pressed, then took another gulp of ambrosia.
"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."
"What I mean is that we've served together now for almost six weeks and I know next to nothing about you, or you me. So, lets drop ranks for a few minutes." To emphasize this, he reached up and pulled the two golden pins from his collar and set them on the desk. "Where'd you serve before joining up with Colonial Fleet?"
"The Scorpian Navy, sir."
"But you aren't Scorpian, correct?"
"No sir, Sagittaran by birth."
And there it is, he thought. "It's Erik, ranks are dropped while there's booze out, remember?
"Yes—" Melissa replied, stopping herself from calling him "sir" and sounding downright uncomfortable.
"Relax, this is completely informal here. I just want to get to know you. You're my right arm in the CIC, and I need to know how you think so that together we can find our rhythm. I'm Aquarian myself, served in their tiny ass navy before the war. So, what made you leave home and join Scorpia?"
"My uncle. He packed up and moved his family there when I was a kid. Got tired of the religion and uptightness. When I was eighteen, I followed."
"That couldn't have been and easy thing to do."
"No, it wasn't" Melissa picked up her cup and took a larger sip than her first. Her shoulders also relaxed a fraction of an inch.
"Well, I'm glad you ended up aboard Acropolis. You certainly have this ship running like a Tauronese watch."
"Thank you, sir"
"Hey, ranks are dropped." York admonished again with a chuckle, pouring out another drink for both of them. "So, that explains why you weren't very thrilled at the idea of taking Cottle to Sagittaron back up there in the CIC"
Melissa took another sip of ambrosia. "I was hoping no one noticed that."
"Don't worry, I don't think anyone else did. Want to tell me what it was about?"
There was a brief pause while it looked like Melissa was trying to decide how to phrase something. "I got a letter a few years ago from my brother. After I left home, I was completely cut off by the family and so I hadn't heard from them in ages. He'd left as well after my parents ended up falling in with one of the fringe paramilitary groups that are springing up like weeds there. I guess its just the thought of going back, makes me uncomfortable."
"I see," and he drained his cup. "So how do you suggest we tell Cain about this?"
"Well," she answered holding out her cup for a refill, "I'd suggest very carefully."
There was a knock on the door. "Come" Lieutenant Agathon entered and closed the door behind her. "Lieutenant, don't you have the watch?" Melville asked.
"Yes, sir. But I had an idea about how to gain access to Sagittaron."
York and Melville shared a glass. With his foot York pushed out the other chair. "Have a seat and tell us all about it, Lieutenant."
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
The long distance comm connection made the Admiral's irate shouting pop and fizz. "Commander, you can tell Lieutenant Cottle that I wont break Sagittaron's embargo for his personal crusade. And this had better be the last time I ever hear you taking orders from an inferior officer."
"Yes, Admiral. I understand. I wasn't thrilled about it either, but if we don't take him then he's going to try and go anyway."
"That's his prerogative. But I won't have him pulling Colonial Fleet in behind him. For fraks sake we just dug ourselves out of the last hole and you want to put us in another."
"About that, sir. Lieutenant Agathon has a suggestion. If we're not mistaken, we currently have some goodwill built up with a certain Virgonese royal who sits on the Quorum. Respectfully, I suggest we use it, sir."
There was silence for a good half minute before Cain responded. "I'll get back to you. Report to Libran with your group and Cottle. Cain out."
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
Slingshot was laying in her bunk down in pilot's country. All around her the sound of snoring filled the duty locker. She hadn't slept in weeks, not more than a couple of hours a night anyway. Whenever she did the visions of those dead men and women aboard the prison station haunted her dreams. Giving sleep up as a bad job, she pulled aside the curtain hiding her from view and pulled herself up onto the deck.
Opening her locker quietly so as not to wake anyone, she pulled a uniform on and grabbed a small wrapped bundle. Closing the locker again she crept out into the corridor. It was 2330 ship time so most everyone who wasn't on duty was in their rack, and she only met a few people between her quarters and the chapel. The room appeared to be empty and she pulled the hatch shut behind her. In the center of the room was the shrine, and onto it she put two figures from her bundle.
"I thought I'd find you in here." Said a voice from the darkness.
Alessia whirled around to see Major Vale sitting in the back row. "I'm sorry Major, I didn't see you there."
"That was the point, ensign. You ok?"
"Yes, sir" she answered.
"Want to try that again? You haven't been yourself in weeks. The chaplain says you've been haunting his chapel at night." Hades said, rising and climbing down the stairs.
"I don't know what-" Hades waved her hand as though to brush that away.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Now, why not talk to someone."
Alessia turned to gesture at the shrine, "That was sort of my plan, sir."
Hades stopped a few feet away. "Well, you could talk to the gods again, or you could try talking to someone who talks back."
"The gods do speak to us, sir." Slingshot replied.
"Yeah maybe, but I'm here now, so why not give me a try?" Hades gestured towards one of the chairs and led Slingshot over to it.
"Well, Major-"
"Angela" she cut across, "It's Alessia isn't it?"
"Yeah, well Angela, it's like this…"
BSGBSGBSGBSGBSG
Erik York was sitting in his quarters finishing up a mountain of paperwork. His phone buzzed and he picked it up without looking. "Go ahead."
"Sir" came the OOD's voice, "There's something coming in a civilian frequency you might want to hear."
"Coming in from where?" York asked, still trying to finish up his report.
"Aerilon"
"Patch it through."
He flipped a switch on the speaker and hung up the phone. There was a pop and a buzz and then the voice of the Aerilan newscaster he had seen on the vidscreen back on Virgon came through. "You see here behind me the Picon Medical Corps hospital station in the city of Promethea on Aerilon. These medics arrived earlier today after just after the Aerilan Government reported that the Cylons had fled orbit. There is some speculation that the enemy only ran after a task force of Colonial Fleet ships led by the Battlestar Acropolis under the command of Erik York arrived, but new information from the Aerilan Defense Ministry shows that a fleet of Aerilan ships were already engaged with the Cylon fleet, and that it was under this onslaught that the toasters retreated, over an hour before the battlestar group arrived.
"Alex, are you saying that Colonial Fleet only showed up on sight after the Cylons had already fled?"
"Yes Trish, everything I'm being shown proves that conclusively. The feeling here is that the Fleet abandoned these people to their fate until the coast was clear."
"Thanks, Alex. Keep us updated. For those of you who just tuned in, the situation on Aerilon has begun to stabilize as a medical team from Picon landed earlier today to begin treating the thousands of sick after this latest Cylon attack. This is Trish Walkins for Aerilon 7 News, reporting."
His report completely forgotten, Erik York gazed open mouthed at the wall speaker, not believing what he had just heard. Anger flooded him at the brazen lie that Aerilon had just endorsed for broadcast. It was common knowledge that despite freedom of the press being protected by the Articles of Colonization, any news outlet on Aerilon had to tow the government line or they'd have police breaking down their doors. His fist slammed down on the desk, making his pens and papers jump. This is exactly what the Cylons want, and the colonies were going right along with it.