Battlestar Galactica: The Rift
Chapter 2. Lost in the Wilderness
Freighter Bill Thurston-12: Prolmar Sector; 61 Days after the fall.
Rebecca sat heavily in the old worn chair at the center of the bridge. She pretended to look over the various status reports on her computer, but her mind was elsewhere. The events of the last week had twisted and tore at her conscience. Ultimately, it was the military coup started by Commander Adama and the resulting dictatorship that had been established by Colonel Tigh that cemented her decision. Rebecca had wanted to dismiss the idea of abandoning the Galactica as folly when the President had asked her to join her. Striking out on their own was a death sentence she knew, but death was inevitable either way. Better to die with a clear conscience than under the thumb of a petty tyrant.
Minutes ago, she had finished listening to the President's latest subversive speech. Rebecca hung her head in regret as she assimilated the full meaning of the President's address. She had failed; the Quorum had refused to stand up to the military. Already, the hunt for the fugitive President was intensifying and with Adama now returned to command the search would certainly end with their leader's capture, or worse. Rebecca steeled herself. Despite the President's struggles she had remained defiant, and now with all avenues to victory closed off it was time to commit to the inevitable. It was time to leave.
She turned her attention back to the DRADIS screen, the fleet had been divided, ships on one side had been carefully searched and were separated from those that remained free. The former group was steadily increasing while the latter was becoming fewer and fewer. The President was running out of ships to hide in, she had at most days, more likely less before her discovery.
To no one's surprise, Tom Zarek's ship, the Astral Queen, had been the first ship to be examined. It sat quietly, near the center of the quarantined group, impotently waiting as the massive Battlestar hunted its quarry.
"Captain, the Astral Queen just fired a navigational flare," the helmsman reported.
Rebecca sat up at attention, her heart nearly leaping through her chest. She clapped her hands together in excitement. "Marel, spool up the jump drive and load 'Homecoming' jump coordinates.
"Skipper?" the navigator asked in confusion.
"Do it." she called out urgently.
"Captain," the helmsman called out, "The Astral Queen just jumped, the Adriatic and Argentum Bay are moving out of formation." He paused for a moment, studying his station monitor, "They've jumped too," he announced as the ships disappeared from their sensors.
Rebecca was standing at her station, staring intently at the DRADIS monitor at the front of the bridge. "Marel, how long?" she asked nervously.
Marel looked to check the status of the jump computer.
"Jumping in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1" he counted stoically.
"Jump," he called out as the timer hit zero.
As Marel turned the key a flood of energy stored in the bowels of engineering was released. He closed his eyes as the reality bending distortions swept over him. What seemed like an eternity later, he opened his eyes. He turned his attention to the Navigation computer, quickly confirming their position. "Captain, jump complete, we have arrived at Kobol."
Rebecca closed and opened her eyes to clear the buzzing in her head. "Report," she directed her crew quickly.
John, already massaging the sensors for information tentatively answered. "We are the fifth ship in system, DRADIS shows that Astral Queen, Adriatic, Argentum Bay, and Colonial-One preceded us, more ships arriving."
"Alright," she paused a moment before grabbing the phone attached to her station. She paused to look over the bridge crew before depressing the transmit button. "Attention all hands." she began. "A few moments ago, this ship, along with others, made the decision to stand with the President in defiance of the military. We are currently in orbit of our birth world, Kobol, where with the wisdom of the President and the grace of the gods we will strike out on our own path, free from the threat of autocracy. I will send updates as they are received. Till then, may the Lords of Kobol watch over us."
"So, say we all." John intoned solemnly at the end of her announcement.
Rebecca smiled slightly at his comment. Still, she thought, not everyone would agree with her decision.
Rebecca sunk further into the worn chair, silently keeping tabs of the ships joining the President. She looked over the bridge, it was subdued. The crew was worried and unsure. The President would need to organize the ships and inspire the people who fled with her quickly, or this would all be for naught.
The hatch at the back of the compartment suddenly flew open with Parah erupting through it.
"Rebecca! What have you done!" he demanded angrily.
Rebecca didn't say a word. She simply turned to face him. She waited quietly, drawing the attention of the entire bridge to her. She waited a moment or two longer, just until he began to squirm in discomfort.
"Parah, come with me. Mr. Banners, you have the conn."
Not waiting for a response, she passed by her flummoxed Chief Mate on her way through the hatch. The two walked through the ship in silence.
They reached her office a few minutes later. It was a harshly bright place, small and tidy. A compact desk sat near the far corner, the top of which was meticulously clean, save two small pictures and a computer. Two chairs were placed at the front for guests with Rebecca's behind and pushed against the wall. The bulkheads were adorned with a chronometer, an old-style star chart, a technical blueprint of the ship, a picture of her parents and siblings and another of the temple she attended as a child. Framed on the wall across from her desk, hung a picture of her home world Sagittaron. Obscured by gray and black clouds with streaks of orange, it was how she last saw her planet, on fire and dying after the Cylons devastating attack. It served as a reminder of all that had been lost.
She took her seat behind the desk but wasn't surprised when Parah remained standing. She looked at him calmly. "Speak," she directed him.
He stood there stock-still as he struggled to compose himself. "How?" he stammered. "How could you do this without talking to anyone? Without talking to me?" he lamented.
Rebecca sighed, partially in guilt. "I couldn't tell you Parah. You would have gone straight to Colonel Tigh. And he would have commandeered the ship and thrown me in the brig."
Parah started to protest, but he knew she was right. He pulled out one of the chairs and sat down heavily. "So, you just made this decision on your own without talking to anyone." He paused a moment, "It's a death sentence, you know that, right" he added. "The Cylons will find us, probably sooner than later, and when they do, we have no defense. It'll be like shootin' doves," he finished despondently.
Rebecca looked up at him, "Honestly, Parah," she paused to study the print of the dying planet that hung above her Executive's head. "How long you think we'd last if we stayed. Way the fleet is now, Cylons are gonna get us regardless. Killed by Cylons or under a military despot, at least here I die free." Her peace said, she placed her hands loosely on her desk.
Parah remained in his seat, looking in his lap. After a bit he looked at her, his expression firm. "You don't have the right to determine mine or anyone else's fate this way," he declared. "Some of us would have chosen to stay, would have chosen to have a fighting chance. Instead of giving up like you did!" he insisted.
Rebecca didn't blink. "You're right, and as soon as we survey the fleet, I'm organizing as many ships as we need to send anyone back who wants to go."
"You are?" he asked. Parah studied his Captain's face, searching for any signs of deception.
Rebecca shrugged sardonically. "Well, since it was my idea to jump before surveying the crew, the President thought it fitting that I should be responsible for getting the folks who don't want to be here back."
Parah tried to school his expression in a failed attempt to hide his surprise. "And when did you and the President decide this?"
"Three days ago, in Starboard Maintenance Room 3-C," she answered lightly with a smug grin on her face.
"The President was here?" he asked incredulously.
Rebecca got up from her desk and started towards the hatch. "Yeah, she and Tom Zarek came over with Argentum Bay's supply shuttle."
Parah didn't move. "But I unloaded that shuttle," he declared plaintively.
Rebecca held the hatch open for him. "They were hiding in the back. Now come on, we're needed on the bridge."
Astral Queen: Main Galley, Day 62, 08:00.
The disparate and confrontational charges shot to and for across the dirty cafeteria as captains from each ship jostled for position and prominence in their new fleet. Rebecca leaned over the heavy laminated wooden table letting the catcalls and accusations sail over her. As far as she could tell, this first meeting of the ship's captains had been a complete disaster and a poor omen for their future.
"Captain Davenport..." a familiar voice called out.
Rebecca looked up in surprise. The President was looking at her, a grimace stretching across her face.
"As I was saying," the President resumed with a trace of acidity in her tone, "Anyone who wishes to return to Galactica is free to go. Captain Davenport, from the Bill Thurston is in charge of this effort." She waited for the crowd to settle down before continuing, "Captain, if you'll brief everyone, please."
Rebecca quickly stood up and awkwardly waved at the crowd. "Right," she began, "We couldn't poll the crews on your ships before the jump for security reasons. Consequently, we know there are quite a few folks here that would have voted to stay with the fleet. It is our responsibility to ensure that they get back to the Galactica safely," she paused to ensure that she had the audience's attention. "I have sent each of you a census to be conducted as soon as you return to your ships. Each Captain is to send a list of every citizen that wishes to return by twelve hundred. I will be selecting ships based on their role in our fleet and the number of people who choose to leave. Hopefully, most everyone will choose to remain with us, and the loss of ships will be minimal."
A low thunder of discontent rolled across the compartment as the assembled officers assimilated the news to the potential consequences of the census's results.
"What happens if my ship is selected to return?" one of the captain's called out.
"Yeah, I din't come all the way out 'ere to head back!" Captain Wilheard from the Gideon, the Aerilonian cargo ship that was stormed by the Colonial Marines one week earlier, seconded the angry captain.
"Just wait one minute Baldric", Laura called out before Rebecca could answer. The President stood up and faced the old, grizzled Captain, "No decisions have been made as to which ships will go back, and obviously, we will not be sending anyone back who wishes to remain here."
"You can have the Pyxis!" a woman called out.
Rebecca recognized her immediately, it was Captain Jules Tearney, commanding officer of the luxury liner Pyxis. Complete silence filled the room as the compact Captain marched towards Rebecca, a manila envelope tucked in her hand.
"Here's my list," she said, handing Rebecca the folder. Looking inside there was both a hard-copy and a flash drive. "I polled everyone on board before we left."
"Uh, thank you, Jules." Rebecca stammered in reply. "I'm assuming that you'll be commanding the Pyxis during its return." she stated confidently.
"Yes, I will." she answered coolly. With nothing else to say, she turned and headed back to her table, leaving the rest of the captains stunned in silence.
As she sat down, the sound of muted comments, both angry and confused, rose from the assembled captains. Laura shook her head in frustration as the quiet buzz began to grow as the crowd digested Captain Tearney's actions.
Zarek jumped to his feet without warning, turning to face the glacial captain. "You put us all in jeopardy!" he exploded in rage. "If one person had talked, Galactica would have found out our plan. Tigh would have arrested everyone one of us and taken our ships!"
Captain Tearney stood to face him and looked him dead in the eyes. "Obviously they didn't find out," she coldly countered his charge. Now she turned to face the President, "Understand this," she declared. "I was not going to strand any citizens wanting to stay, me included, before abandoning Commander Adama with you." She paused a moment for effect, before continuing, "I may not agree with your decision to leave, but I respect it, so I made sure to keep our plan a secret."
To Rebecca's surprise it was Wallace Gray that spoke up next, "Can you tell us how you secured the secrecy of the plan?" he asked with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
The captain of the Pyxis turned to face him, smiling tightly, "I locked all communications to my personal authorization just before distributing the survey." she answered easily.
By this point Tom had found his footing, "And what did you do with the those who wished to stay?" he asked curtly.
"They're with us, on the Pyxis." she answered bluntly. "Before I agreed to come, I made the President commit to the right of repatriation for anyone wishing to return."
"And I did just that!" the President called out, quickly silencing any other members wanting to respond. She waited for the audience to focus on her. "Rest assured; Captain Davenport will make sure anyone wishing to go back will be able too. No questions asked. Captains, all you need to do is to distribute the surveys, which have already been transmitted to you and return them completed to Captain Davenport." She waited for the guests to absorb her instructions. "Any questions?" she asked. "Very good, next topic," she quickly added when there was no response from the audience.
The Priestess Elosha stood next and gracefully made her way to the center of the compartment. "We will be leading a team on the planet to find Athena's tomb. According to scripture, this tomb will provide critical information in our search for the Thirteenth Tribe." she paused as maps of the planet were projected behind her. "Scripture says that those who remained behind took..."
Rebecca tuned out as the Priestess continued her lecture. She had no interest in following a bunch of religious lunatics on a holy quest that promised "a heavy price in blood."
The President opened the floor for questions and concerns when Elosha was finished. It didn't take long for the meeting to dissolve into a chaotic screaming match. Someone had asked what the fleet should do if the Galactica returned to put down their escape. The President tried to calm the crowd, claiming their fears were unfounded. When that didn't work, Commander Adama's son, Lee, tried reality, assuring them that they had no hope against the massive Battlestar, if it came for them. Rebecca could see already that Tom Zarek and his supporters were angling to take control of their new fleet. Using fear as a cudgel, he argued that they should arm as many ships as possible for the inevitable confrontation with the colonial warship.
Just as it seemed complete anarchy would break out, an unknown ship appeared on their DRADIS scanner. Arguments were made by Zarek and Captain Meirer that they should attack the unknown craft, destroying it before it could attack or report their position. Others, led by the President, argued that they were expecting another ship, and they couldn't risk accidently shooting it down. Their bickering continued for nearly a minute, long enough for the pilot of the craft to identify herself by the call-sign Starbuck. The announcement of the pilot's name sucked all the oxygen out of Tom Zarek and his sycophants. This was the person the President had been expecting. She was supposed to be carrying an artifact from Caprica that would help them find, or open, Athena's Tomb; Rebecca wasn't sure which. The arrival of the new ship brought the meeting to an abrupt end. Rebecca watched slack jawed as the President, followed by Lee Adama and a few others raced out of the galley to meet the pilot in the forward hangar bay.
Freighter Bill Thurston 12: Day 63, Mid-Day Watch
Parah looked over the transfer orders on the desktop computer monitor in his quarters again. His few bags were already packed and sitting on his bunk, his pictures and mementos sat next to them in a cardboard box. He didn't have much, that was the life for the merchant marines. Still, he reflected as he looked at his wares, he had more possessions than most in the fleet. He had never planned to stay on the B.T.-12, he always figured he would get his own ship. Leaving this way, because of politics and knowing that he would likely never see the crew again was a bitter pill.
His reverie was interrupted by three solid taps on his hatch.
"Come." he replied stoically.
The dog spun counterclockwise with the hatch pushing into the small compartment. Centered in the frame Campara waited silently, his face devoid of emotion.
"Time to go, Chief," he said easily, a shadow of regret in his voice.
Parah nodded for the security chief to enter. "Grab a bag, Mike." he said with feigned casualness. Parah genuinely liked the young Sagittaron and regretted that he wasn't coming with him to the Galactica. They quickly loaded his gear on a small cart and then were on their way. He let his mind wander as they headed down the corridor, silently recording the scratches, dents, and rivets on the worn bulkheads.
The crew stood at attention in their dress-whites as Parah and Campara entered the hangar. Parah's replacement stood with Rebecca and Marel at the front. Perth Sealey had been the Chief Mate on the Pyxis, he and Parah were effectively swapping places, although Parah had no idea how permanent his new posting would be. The new chief mate looked competent, and no doubt had impeccable references, but he also looked meek. Rebecca would eat him alive, he thought, hiding his smile. Passing through the column of sailors, he came to a stop and stood at attention when he reached his commanding officer.
"Permission to disembark." he declared.
Rebecca smiled and bowed her head slightly. "Permission granted," she replied quietly as she reached out her hand.
He took her hand and was surprised as she pulled him in for a tight hug. She turned to face him, he could see tears forming, "You take it easy, and good luck."
He waited for her to step back before answering, "I will, but I think you'll need Tyche's fortune more than me," referring to the goddess of luck.
"I think we will both need it, and maybe she will grant that to us. We are certainly deserving."
"That we are." He looked into her hard brown eyes, allowing just a moment to share the pain that they both felt. "I hope we see each other again," he said.
She smiled back, "We will. You have always been a pessimist. Now get out of here."
He waited for a steward to take his bags, and then turned to face the rest of the assembled officers and saluted them. Walking up the ramp, Parah paused again, and turned for what he assumed was one last look at the ship and the crew that he had served with for the last three years. Knowing that it was time to go, he turned and solemnly entered the shuttle. The pilot, a short and stocky young woman was waiting for him just inside the hatch.
"I'm Chief Gammons," he stated bluntly.
"Yes, sir" she responded. "Myra Jones, the co-pilot's chair is available if you'd rather sit up front." she offered.
"Thank you," he answered and then slipped into the cockpit. Parah quickly sat down, easily securing the safety harness around his frame. He watched through the canopy as Rebecca and the rest of the crew exited the hangar while the pilot quickly worked through the flight checklist.
"How many are transferring to the Pyxis?" he asked as she finished her flight prep.
"0ne Hundred and Forty-Five souls from the BT-12. I took twenty-five on the first five trips and I have the last twenty on this run." she answered mechanically.
He grunted in acknowledgment; there were fewer people than he had expected to go back to the fleet. "How many folks are transferring from the Pyxis?"
"Well over half, my co-pilot included," she paused trying to remember the exact count. She remembered a moment later, "478 out of 637 chose to stay with the President. I've shuttled folks to every damn ship in this fleet." She looked over at Parah quickly, "Sorry, if I'm out of line, sir. I'm just tired."
"Not at all Myra, and if you'll let me, I'll get you a drink when we get to the ship."
"That would be great, sir. If we had time or booze, but I'm pretty sure Captain Tearney is ready to head back as soon as possible."
Parah looked over the President's fleet as they made their way to the Pyxis. "I can't believe how many ships left the Galactica," he lamented quietly.
"It's not right, they're condemning all of us." The pilot responded solemnly.
Parah looked over the ships that had abandoned the Galactica and agreed with her assessment. It wasn't just the numbers, but the types of ships that had gone. Mining ships, tylium ships, food ships. Too many ships that the Galactica would need to carry on, and not enough for this fleet to survive with. Still, he felt it was necessary to give the young woman hope, even if he knew it to be false.
"They're giving up, not us. If anyone can keep us alive, it's Adama, he's a survivor."
The pilot turned to face her new First Mate; she liked him already. "Yes, sir" she answered softly.
Moments later they were making their approach. Parah watched intently as the pilot dipped the shuttle below the bow, carefully guiding them to the ship's main landing bay.
Parah led the transferees out of the jetway and into a comfortable lobby. Waiting for them were several uniformed crew members, all patiently waiting at parade rest at the far end of the compartment.
The oldest crew member and highest ranking, judging by the adornments on his jacket, stepped forward once all the new arrivals had quieted.
"Attention, please," he called out. He continued once everyone was solely focused on him.
"Welcome aboard the Pyxis. My name is Mr. Roberts. My staff and I will escort you to the Demeter Ball Room on C-Deck. There we will wait until the ship transits back to the Galactica. Please keep your bags with you for now. We will figure out berthing assignments after we reach the fleet and consult with the Galactica. Depending on the needs of the fleet you may be assigned to a different ship. Any questions, please ask me or any of the other staff members here. If you don't want to return to the Galactica, this will be your only chance to remain with the President."
Parah watched as the crowd quietly looked at each other, a few folks silently confirming their decisions with each other.
"Excuse me." An older woman in the crowd called out. "When will we be returning to the fleet?" she asked.
The officer in charge, Parah suspected he was the head of ship's security turned to face the lady. "Captain Tearney is preparing the ship for the FTL jump now. We should be back with the fleet within the hour."
When there were no other questions, Mr. Roberts addressed the crowd again. "Alright then, everyone, please follow Mr. Jenks here to the ballroom."
Parah watched the indicated officer wave his raised arm for the crowd before turning to head out of the compartment. He watched as the crowd moved past, quietly expecting that he would be meeting the command officers instead of waiting in the ballroom with the rest of the civilians transferring back to the fleet. He didn't have to wait long, there was maybe a third of the people left when one of the two remaining officers approached him.
"Chief Gammons?" the young page asked.
"Yes," Parah answered.
"Captain Tearney would like for you to join her on the bridge."
"Please, lead the way." He responded grandly.
As Parah followed the young crew member through the elegant corridors, he couldn't help but to revel in the differences between the industrial freighter that had been his home for the past three years and the luxury of his new posting. Even after two months on the run, the ship was cleaner and in better shape than he could ever recall the BT-12 having been in. The tidiness of the ship and the crew's demeanor made it clear that Captain Tearney ran a tight ship.
Neither of which were meant as slight against Rebecca. She was an outstanding skipper in his mind but commanding a freighter and a luxury liner and the men and women who crewed them were very different from each other. Thinking of the future, he hoped that the adjustment for him wouldn't be too difficult.
Gemenon Liner Pyxis – Bridge.
The bridge was stunning, Parah thought as he entered through the oversized hatch. It was massive, easily three times the size of the bridge on the BT-12. But the differences didn't stop there, each station boasted top of the line technology, a massive display, and large comfortable chairs that he had dreamt of while crewing the larger freighter.
The captain was out of her seat and heading towards him as he passed through the hatch. She was older than Rebecca, likely in her early fifties. Captain Tearney was tall and fit with short gold hair. The smile she wore was only skin deep, and her eyes, which were sharp and predatory, gave warning to all that her word was law.
"Chief Gammons, welcome aboard," she said pleasantly.
He took her extended hand, "Thank you, Captain." He paused a moment, "This is quite a ship."
She smiled politely. "Did you have a chance to look over the operations manuals that I sent earlier?" she asked, but it was clearly more of an expectation than a question.
Parah hesitated as he tried to figure out how to best answer his new captain. "Just a quick review; I didn't have much time to prepare on the BT-12 before shuttling over."
The captain looked at him sternly, silently calculating her response. "Well, you have some time now, we'll be jumping back within the hour. I had a guest access account set up for you at the Executive Officer's station," she informed him, pointing to a vacant duty station on the port side of the bridge.
Nodding in understanding, Parah turned and carefully walked to the indicated station. "Thank you, ma'am," he replied deferentially.
She watched him carefully as he took his station. "Think of this as a job interview, Mr. Gammons."
Feeling very much like a scolded school child, Parah quickly scanned the Operations Manual, hedging a bet, he opened to the section detailing FTL Jump protocols and began committing the procedures to memory.
"Mr. Gammons," his new C.O. called out brusquely. "It's time to rejoin the fleet."
Parah looked up from his display, he had lost track of time as he had been reviewing the bridge officers, making sure to commit their names to memory.
"Yes ma'am," he answered confidently. The FTL protocols were pretty straight forward and not all that different from his old ship.
"Ms. Navarro, verify jump coordinates are loaded into the hyperspace navigation system." He called out to the navigator.
"Jump coordinates are set, sir." She answered professionally.
"Mr. Biles," he called to the communication officer, please inform Colonial-One that we are preparing to leave."
The comm officer turned to his station, quickly sending a message to the President's ship. Finished with his task, he turned back to the new first officer. "Colonial-One has acknowledged our departure."
Parah looked over his display one last time to ensure that engineering and navigation boards were green.
"Mr. Hikaru", he called out, addressing the helmsman. "Turn the ship to course 24 carom 178, engines to one quarter, take us 500 from the nearest ship."
Parah felt the engines come to life as the ship responded to the helmsman's commands. A few moments later Parah felt the ship stop again.
"Sir, we are holding 650 from nearest ship." The helmsman stated.
"Very good." Parah replied. He looked to the captain for a second. "Final check," he directed the bridge crew.
"Navigation, ready."
"Engineering, ready."
Parah checked his screen, confirming the ship's condition. "Captain, ship is secured for FTL transit," he announced.
The captain looked at him with an amused smile, "Somehow, I doubt you were that formal at your last posting. Thank you, Mr. Gammons." She turned her attention to the navigator, "Ms. Navarro, start the clock."
Bill Thurston-12; Bridge
Rebecca watched as the DRADIS monitor recorded the Pyxis as it slowly moved away from the fleet. A moment later it disappeared in a flash of light, leaving the President and the rest of them behind. Sighing despondently, she was saddened to watch her friends leave, but in her core, she knew that Adama would reunite the fleet. He had too, she thought desperately, because neither group could survive without the other.
Battlestar Galactica: Combat Information Center.
Commander Adama had barley left the CIC since President Roslin and her band of followers had abandoned the fleet. The fact that she had fled hadn't been a surprise, but the number who had followed her had staggered him.
The betrayal by so many was devastating. The loss of the industrial ships was significant, but not necessarily fatal to their mission. The real damage he knew was political. The morale of the fleet, already low, was now untenable.
He tossed his glasses onto the plotting table and rubbed his tired eyes. Things had gone to hell when Tigh took over, and he would have a long and frank talk with his X.O. after he reviewed the logs. But as he thought more on it, he realized that the blame lay on his shoulders. He had overplayed his hand. Arresting the President, that was the act that pushed everything over the cliff. All of this was his fault.
He wanted to punch something, needed to. But anger was what had gotten the fleet into their current situation, and he would be damned if he was going to let his temper get the best of him again.
"Commander, DRADIS contact, 26 carom 148, range 65,000, on an intercept course," Lt. Alghee called out from the tactical station.
"Go to Condition-One, get the Ready‐Five into the tubes and launch ASAP. They are to join the CAP before intercept. I want the rest of the Vipers prepped and on standby now." His reverie broken; Bill Adama refocused on the DRADIS above his head. He ignored Dee's voice relaying his orders over the One-MC, calling the ship's crew to battle stations. One ship was heading towards them, smaller than a basestar, but still a threat to the fleet that needed to be dealt with.
Colonel Tigh was by his side now, worriedly looking at the DRADIS. "What the frack is this?" he snarled. "That's no basestar, Cylons must be getting cocky."
"Maybe." Bill quietly responded.
Knowing Bill for decades allowed Saul to read his Commander's intent instantly. He turned his attention to the communication station, "Dee, have the civies load the emergency coordinates and spool up their FTLs, but tell them to hold their jump till we say so."
Bill turned to the tactical station for an update, he was relieved to see that Lt. Gaeta had taken over. Lt. Alghee had moved to an adjacent station, studiously attending to her duties.
"Commander," Gaeta called out "All stations report they are at Condition-One. Ready-Five Vipers have launched and approaching CAP. Gun crews have a solution on unknown bogey."
"Very good Mr. Gaeta, do we have an I.D. on that ship yet?"
Lt. Gaeta turned to his station, the stress he was feeling was evident as he coaxed the sensors for more information.
"DRADIS and recognition codes identify the incoming ship as the Pyxis." He called out with a sense of relief.
Bill's focus remained on the sensor screens above him. "Dee, tell them to hold position," he ordered.
"You think it's a trick?" Tigh asked conspiratorially.
"Honestly, no. But I want to be ready just in case." He looked back down at the plot table, getting an overview of the area around him. Neither his luck nor his judgment had been particularly good recently, he reflected. If it was a trick by the Cylons, he was determined that it would be one they regretted.
"Mr. Gaeta, offensive posture, load armor piercing rounds in dorsal batteries 1 and 2, anti-aircraft rounds in the rest. Mr. Robinaux, have the CAP intercept the incoming ship and visually confirm its I.D."
GEMENON LINER PYXIS - Bridge
"Captain, Galactica is launching Vipers and turning towards us." Parah called out apprehensively.
"X.O., verify we are transmitting our Identification Codes," she asked quietly.
"Confirmed our transponders are active, ship is at a full stop per Galactica's orders. Jump drives are cycling, but we will need five minutes before they are ready" he responded quietly.
"Thank you, Mr. Gammons," she replied, pleased with how her potential Executive Officer had anticipated her line of thought.
"Captain, incoming wireless call from Galactica," the Communications officer called out.
She nodded to Parah and then the engineering panel as she picked up her headset. "Put it through to my station," she stated.
"This is Captain Tearney of the Gemenon Liner Pyxis, we are friendly, repeat we are friendly."
She recognized the gravelly voice of the Commander immediately. "Pyxis, this Galactica Actual state your intention," he demanded.
She looked over at her new executive officer, he shook his head in resignation and showed her three fingers. They needed three minutes before the jump drives could spool to full power. She choked back a small bile of fear in the back of her throat and turned her attention to the navigation board and saw that the return jump was already plotted.
She braced herself and chose her words carefully. "Galactica, we have 872 patriots on board that wish to rejoin the fleet. Most of us weren't given a choice when our ships jumped to Kobol."
BATTLESTAR GALACTICA: CIC
Derek watched his screen as he monitored the Vipers approach and then blocked the civilian liner. He was stuck with bridge duty until his knee healed, that and advising the new CAG for the time being.
"Cat-Bird to Control, we're in position." The lead pilot called out.
Derek paused, waiting for the CAG to report on the bogey. When nothing came, he toggled his mic, "Can you confirm identify of the freighter?"
Cat-Bird's voice cut through the static, "One moment Control," he responded.
Derek watched his screen as Cat-Bird's plane slowly passed along the length of the freighter.
"Cat-Bird to Control, hull registration and markings match, confirm bogey is the Pyxis. Repeat confirm Pyxis has rejoined the fleet."
Derek breathed a sigh of relief before relaying the information to the Commander. He watched Adama's reaction as the target on the DRADIS array changed from 'Unknown' to 'G.L. Pyxis'.
"Mr. Gaeta secure the ship to Condition-Three. Mr. Robinaux have Ace and Thumper escort the Pyxis back into the fleet. Dee, inform the Captain of the Pyxis that I want her on the Galactica in thirty minutes."
End chapter 2