Colonel Lopez was old, he knew it, the Admiral knew it, frak the whole ship knew it, but he was still observant and he had spent a lot of his life on Battlestars. He had instincts that you only get after a very long time and that's why he wasn't surprised to see two Marines. Between them they carried a pilot obviously drunk. She was quiet but had a grin on her face. He was also not surprised that he knew the pilot. After all, it was always the bad people who were remembered.
"Morning Colonel, sir." Slurred Lieutenant Freya.
He was careful not to move a muscle in his face. "Lieutenant." He greeted curtly. He looked at one of the Marines. "Report corporal."
"Lieutenant Freya has been arrested on Major Anderson's orders for being drunk on duty and will be taken to the brig."
"Again?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes sir, Colonel sir." Interjects the drunken Freya.
"Carry on Marine."
"Yes sir." And pushes the pilot on. He could only shake his head and wonder why the best pilots were the worst people.
He walked on, visiting various guns, and passed by Chief Engineer Howard, who was currently in the engine room working on the two FTL coils. They talked briefly about the recent Pyramid results and he bounced a bit that his Caprica Buccaneers had won in their last game against the Picon Panthers. Picon was Howard's home and they were both big fans of the sport.
However, by the time he left, his hip was hurting again. "Once is fine, twice is too much." He spoke to himself and made his way to the infirmary.
He did his duty. Looked in on the various departments. Talked to senior officers about small problems, their requests and what they needed. Finally he arrived at the infirmary. Briefly he stopped in front of it, but with a heavy sigh he went in. There are more than 9000 people working on a Nova Class battlestar and the sickbay was accordingly large. There were several, but this one was the biggest, there were several rooms with beds and even three operating rooms for seriously injured people. Here, too, it was very cramped. Only two can stand side by side in the corridor and only one hand fits between the beds in the rooms. The operating rooms were also just big enough for people to pass each other. But everything was clean, tidy and painted in the classic white color. Several chairs had been placed to the left and right, and some of them were occupied. A mechanic with a laceration on her head, a marine with a dislocated shoulder and the usual sick people. A dark-skinned man with a bald head and dressed as a doctor stands in the entrance area.
"Morning sir. Do you need anything?"
"No... yes, but not from them. I'd like to speak to Doctor Carney."
"Of course, she's in her office. Down the hall and at the third door on the left."
"I know, thank you." He walked down the short hallway and entered the office.
"Good afternoon, Doctor."
"Colonel Lopez." She greeted, "please sit down."
He sat down a little stiffly. For a few seconds they just stare at each other in silence. Until finally she began. "You know I have to put this in her file."
"I know, and as always, I'm asking you not to."
She breathes in and out heavily. "There are therapies for that."
"I know that too, but if they report this, I'll be unfit for duty."
"You'd be healthy again."
"I don't care if I'm healthy, my destiny was and is to be a soldier. I've spent almost all my life on ships and just because I'm getting older now, I'm not going to leave."
"I'm sorry for her." She hands him a piece of paper. "Your admission to the military hospital on Picon."
"They will treat me and then send me to an old people's home to rot. Before that happens, I'll shoot myself." His tone was a mixture of hopelessness and seriousness.
"I'm sorry, but I have a duty to look after each of you." And that was true. She had already treated every man and woman on this ship with care.
"Can't you treat me?"
"In theory, yes, but in practice." She falls silent and shrugs.
"I would have preferred to die in the line of duty." He fell silent and took the note. He stood up, folded the note and put it in a pocket.
"I'm sorry for her, but I have to think of your health." She told him. Without making any reply, he left.
"Arrival at docking port C38. Please remember to take all your personal belongings with you." Said the pilot of the military shuttle that was taking her and her comrades to the station in orbit above Picon. Although the shuttle is FTL capable, someone decided to take the Persephone for the journey. She could only guess, but she believed that an admiral was not keen on the ceremonies and since the graduating class happened to be taken to their first posts on the same day, he saw that as a reason not to join in.
Mala took the sack with all her belongings and slung it over her shoulder. Shortly afterwards she left the shuttle with the others. She was greeted by her older sister. This room was wide and was exclusively for the military. Uniforms were everywhere. Pilots, officers and sailors mingled and everyone walked as if they were in a hurry but didn't want to show everyone. Out of the crowd emerged her sister. She was wearing the space suit for pilots, her helmet tucked under her arm.
"Hey Sarah." Mala puts the bag down and hugs her sister a little awkwardly because of the bag between them.
"Hey sis. How are you?"
"I'm fine. The last few weeks have been exhausting. Exams, waiting for results, waiting again and now my orders."
"You know what the veterans say."
"War is 90% waiting and 10% frantic activity."
"Exactly."
"How did you make it off the ship?"
"I know the pilots, the sailor controlling our shuttle and the LSO sailor. I told them I was coming to pick you up and they didn't look too closely."
Sarah starts to move. "Come, our shuttle is at B23." Mala picks up the bag but when she looked up again her sister had disappeared into the crowd. She looked around, not sure what to do.
She watched her sister from the safety of the crowd. The many uniforms blended together and made her invisible. Her sister walked towards the B section. The shuttle being there would only take her back to the surface. Of course she would find out and be angry, but she was over punctual as usual and should still make it. She wasn't that angry after all and it was a blow to her always perfect sister.
Smiling at her sister's awkwardness, she walked to her shuttle. There was a traffic jam outside the airlock as the entrance was very narrow. The cadets were wearing the normal service uniform. Some of them were so young that they had only recently started shaving. Children. They were all fraking children. Her space suit, her pilot's badge, her rank badge and her elbows made room for her. She pushed and squeezed past the children and then was in the corridor of the shuttle. More children were in her way and again her elbows created a path until she was finally in the cockpit. She dropped into one of the emergency seats and strapped herself in.
She knew the pilots. "Sevan, Ziegler." She greeted them both. They both nodded in her direction but turned back to the controls. Sev and Stone were actually Raptor pilots, but since no one wants to be a shuttle pilot for long, someone else was assigned each time. Sometimes it was a Raptor team, other times it was Viper Wingmen. Anyone could fly a shuttle. It didn't have high acceleration or powerful armament. It was just a can of thrusters.
"My sister may be late. You know how the young are. They never know the way to their shuttle." She couldn't see it but she could imagine them grinning and she could hear it when Ziegler said "Understood, we need some more time here and the kids aren't all inside yet either."
She didn't feel good. It was like knowing you were going to be sick tomorrow. She stared at the screen in front of her but somehow couldn't make out what was on it. She couldn't concentrate, nor could she understand the conversations of her subordinates. They sounded muffled and distant. She rubbed her eyes, but the screen was still blurred. The light was strange
"Are you all right, Cap?" She wanted to say she wasn't feeling well or someone should look at her screen or scream and break down. At the same time she remembers the man's name again.
Her body was disobeying her, doing something it wasn't supposed to do. Strange as it was, it no longer obeyed her. She feels her body smile and someone else say in her voice "it's all right . I just need some more Kaff." She then closed what she had on the screen and opened the logs and erased all traces with her code.
She woke up. Typing on keyboards and conversations could be heard. Some walk around the room with tablets, exchanging data. The light was back to normal, she was breathing normally, but she didn't feel normal. She looked at the screen and saw the logs. Why did she have this page open? It was supposed to record everything each of them does, but she deleted something. What did she delete? She couldn't remember. Why was she so upset? She couldn't remember that either. She had a very bad feeling but continued to work normally.
"Secure stars Major." The sailor saluted from behind the window. Major Anderson knew him by sight. Didn't know his name, though. How could he? The Battlestar has thousands of men and women, you couldn't know them all, but eventually you knew them all by sight. That was always very strange because you felt you had to know the other person's name, but you didn't know him. In this case, you called the other person by rank.
"Thank you Petty Officer." He returned the salute and sat comfortably in the seat. He felt himself being pressed into the seat at 20G.
The lights of the lunche tube flicker past him at an ever decreasing distance. His Viper accelerated to a speed that could be used to fight in space. At the end of the tunnel he could already see the stars along with the endless emptiness of the vacuum. He shot out of the tube with the speed of a projectile. Around him was only the light of the stars and endless darkness. He could look at the beauty of the universe.
Until his eyes fell on the other Vipers who had launched with him and were slowly dispersing. He flicks the switch that unlocks the maneuver jets and goes into formation with the others.
"Ok, people form up in twos and fan out. Form multiple layers."
"Major, if a civilian gets too close, can we open fire?"
"No weapons released. If a civilian gets too close, tell him to leave again and report it to the CIC and me."
A chorus of acknowledgements answers him.
"Lieutenant Colonel Levon, what is the status of our passengers?" Admiral Haves and Lieutenant Elisabeth Vantai are joined by Lieutenant Colonel Levon.
"We are on schedule so far. We will execute the jump to Caprica as planned."
"What about the jump preparations?"
"Howard said our reactors and coils are working fine."
"All right. Get back to your duties."
"Yes, sir." Levon took two steps to the right so they could stand diagonally at the table and do their respective jobs.
Elisabeth Vantai stepped forward and handed her admiral another report. "A progress report from the Pegasus. Rear Admiral Cain reports that maintenance on the Pegasus is almost complete. They are running final tests and preparing for the new crew."
"Good, next item."
"Fleet Admiral Nagala requests to speak with them soon."
"Did Edric say what he wanted?"
"No, sir." "Rear Admiral Parkell of the Mercury Battlestar Poseidon reports that the reactor is still giving trouble."
"Still? Did he say what the trouble was? His reason was copied from his chief engineer's report. I don't understand what the problem is."
He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. She looked him in the eye.
"Alright let's hope they fix the reactor soon and they make it to Scorpia. I'll have other ships fly the patrol on the Red Line, then they can stop by the station and rescue the diplomat too."
"Yes, sir, I recommend BSG 61 from Battlestar Atlantis." He looked at his records. They said they were conducting exercises. In other words 'we have something to do, so leave us alone.'
"Tell Rear Admiral Paris to fly the patrol of the Poseidon. He should consider it an extended exercise."
"Yes sir. Next we have..."
"Unidentified contacts." Shouts one of the officers. Admiral Haves' gaze immediately shot to the large DRADIS display above his head. On it were six contacts coloured yellow. He looked at them briefly, then his hand flew to the phone and activated the channel connecting to all the starships around Picon and the internal speakers. At the same time his words would be recorded and sent to all the ships in the colonies.
"Attention, Cylon attack in progress. This is not a drill. All ships stand by for battle." He paused for a moment. "We are now at war." And so quietly that only he could hear, "May the gods be with us."