Responses to Earlier Comments:

Enterprize 1304a, thanks for the question. I posted a compilation piece on my somewhat abandoned Facebook page (search for Bane Mythrilforge).

Thanks, War Sage! Someone needed to reject him before the whole profit/worship business. I can only imagine what Messenger Six was saying in his head.

Chronos1326 - Thanks Chronos! The whole scene is a cliché piece, right? But I like when idiots get tossed out on their collective ears. Makes for good visuals.

dankuser, thanks for the thorough comment. I've stated in other comments that I worry about affecting canon and creating a Mary Sue. But the ship needs to be needed, otherwise, why have it, right? Too funny - I was trying to remember the word "bureaucracy" while writing. I knew it started with a B, but could not come up with it. That's exactly what they were - bureaucracy. A hint for the future - Admiral Cain will not let Cru be a part-time officer.

Blaze - I try to think of everything that would happen during a rebuild of society. I expect there would be a number of folks who think their brains are far more important than hard work and sweat.

***Other comments are always welcome. Please leave a review.***

Disclaimer: Please note: I own no part or share in the Battlestar Galactica realm, either commercial or otherwise. This story is submitted for entertainment purposes only.

Reminder: I did not spend time making up non-earth names for BSG things - wine, whiskey, dress shirt, etc. They are in there as is. I wanted to avoid introducing new terms, explaining them, and potentially causing confusion when they are used later without their explanations.

Chapter 22

Acquaintances

"I think Tyrol is avoiding Evvie. Last time he almost lost his shirt to her. Seriously. She almost got it from him on the trade. I expect he'd have had some tough questions to answer when he got back to Galactica."

~Cru's journal, if he had time to keep one.

There were many capable people aboard Bree's Twin thanks to T-Dog's sharp eye for talent. Tanner had all the help he could use in the shop, which was where Emily spent much of her time. Tanner was like a doting grandfather to the girl and Emily was a willing student, always. Fletcher was learning equipment repair, but the people T-Dog suggested and who Cru ultimately brought on board, all had many years of experience across all the platforms and disciplines. Emily was older and picking up the trades quickly. Fletcher was Cru's and John's assistant. He would need some maturing and more experience, before doing big jobs on his own.

Evvie used her growing networks to trade for all types of maintenance tools and equipment. In short order, Cru had teams of people running down the issues and crossing them off all the long repair lists. T-Dog came aboard to supervise some of the bigger projects. He liked Evvie and he was aware of Cru's growing feelings for her, but it did not stop him from using various excuses to spend time aboard.

John did less and less of the repair work. His leg injury was slow in healing and it was difficult for him to bend, kneel, or crouch in tight places. He spent much of his time on the bridge and at some point, it became his only job.

Bree's Twin

Day 131, Morning

"Chief, it's 0500 in the morning and I'm finishing two double shifts," said Cru. He and Tyrol exchanged a handshake. Both men stood together on the receiving deck. "I'm kinda running on empty here."

"I'm sorry Major, I asked for Mrs. Hawkins but she's unavailable. Maybe sleeping?"

"At Oh-Five? I doubt it."

Evvie and her daughter were always up in the early hours. Evvie walked through the morning checks with her lead gardeners and Emily continued her work as the galley cook for the ship's crewmembers.

Cru pointed to a slip of paper in Tyrol's hand. "What's that?"

"Short list of 'needfuls', sir. Sorry about this."

"No, no, it's all good. Whattaya need? We'll see if we can figure out Mrs. Hawkins' inventory."

Cru retrieved his tablet and the two men walked from the Receiving deck to the lift for Cargo Bay 1.

"It's a shot in the dark, sir. We need a Band-Level Sequencer for a DDG-62, a Two-step 88D Harness, and an RQ48 Taligas - Open Port."

"A DDG-62 Sub-light? Really? That's a bit outdated. Is this for that project of yours?"

Tyrol nodded. "It is, sir. We're building a ship."

Cru nodded. "Okay. Well then, the DDG has a T-phase inverter. I expect you'll need two of those."

"I haven't looked that far ahead, sir, but if you've got a couple…"

Cru nodded again. "I bet we do."

The two men stood in the doorway of Cargo Bay 1. There were several thousand parts and assemblies on shelving units that were four rows deep stretched wall to wall, and towered well above their reach. The part sizes ranged from micro radio components to a two-ton airlock module.

"Mrs. Hawkins will expect something in trade, you know that," said Cru.

"Sir, that's where I'm running on empty. I have four jars of whiskey. That's it."

"Jars? You're making your own?"

"Yes, sir, 'un-aged' as they say. We have a still."

Cru laughed. "Of course you do."

~~~~~/~~~~~

Bree's Twin

Crop Gardens, Cargo Bay 2

Recent Acquaintance #1

Cru and a fellow named Turgin walked through the Cargo bay with eyes mostly upwards. T-Dog's people were making great progress on several raised levels with which to expand crop-growing. Turgin had been a retired structural engineer. T-Dog introduced him to Cru. Cru brought him and his wife aboard. T-Dog had plenty of engineers but Cru liked having someone of his own if nothing more than ensuring it wasn't all T-Dog driving the decisions.

There were multiple two-person teams, working the crops around Cru and Turgin. Additional teams moved barrels of water to areas where the irrigation lines did not reach. Conversations ranged from food, to pyramids teams, to fleet politics. A familiar voice stopped Cru in mid-step.

"Is your name Kevin?" said Cru to a young gangly fellow in slacks and a dress shirt. His clothing was soiled and stained beyond salvage, but it was evident the fellow tried to keep up appearances.

"Captain!" said the young man as he stood. "I am so pleased to meet you in person. I was told I should wait to make acquaintances because I can be overwhelming."

It was Kevin. It was definitely Kevin. Cru remembered him from Ragnorak. Kevin worked aboard Colonial One as a census-taker among other things. Cru remembered Kevin as being over-the-top energetic and cheerful at the most hopeless of times for humanity.

"Kevin, why are you aboard my ship?" asked Cru. "Why aren't you aboard Colonial One?"

Cru considered how Kevin could have come to be on Bree's Twin. T-Dog would have had to suggest the young man along with many others. There was no other way. After the attack on Bree's Twin, they counted the comings and goings of everyone. No one was allowed to stay longer than needed.

"Well, Captain, I was freshly in need of a new home ship, and my good friend Addinor-"

"Also known as T-Dog Colfax," interjected Cru.

"Yes, 'T-Dog', added Kevin. "My good friend T-Dog suggested your ship."

"What's wrong with Colonial One?"

"It's a hostile environment, Captain. People are uptight and insist on being so. They are not appreciative of certain efforts to create a more relaxing atmosphere."

"Certain efforts?"

"Aromatherapy."

"I don't know what that is."

"Candles, Captain, scented candles. I have many."

"That doesn't sound…"

"I started a fire. Twice"

"Oh…"

"Who puts flammable curtains on ships? I thought there were regulations or something."

"I don't know, Kevin, maybe the same people who put full tanks of hydrogen or pure oxygen on board."

Kevin flashed a disingenuous smile but only momentarily.

"Well, as I said, Captain, I tried to create a relaxing atmosphere and was unappreciated."

"Okay, so having been 'unappreciated' aboard Colonial One, you decided to take up farming?"

"Well, no, not really. It turns out I really hate having dirt under my fingernails."

"Kevin, that's kinda what we do here, unless you have some engineering skills you have not made me aware of."

"I could be your Cruise Director."

"My what?"

"Your Cruise Director. You know, entertainment?"

Kevin had a point. There were a total of seventy-six people aboard. There was a reasonable source of food and always plenty of hard work, but nothing else. Entertainment might go a long way in keeping up morale.

"You're thinking about it," said Kevin before Cru could speak. "I can see it. Your little brain gears are turning."

"I am. And I do not have brain gears. I expect that's a Cylon thing.

"Right, Captain," said Kevin with a serious face. "No brain gears."

"Okay, so what can you do in the way of entertainment? If I create a post for such a job, why should I choose you and not someone else?"

"Captain, I have so many ideas; a talent show, sing-a-longs, a Pyramids league, horseshoes, volleyball, book swaps, weekly challenges. I know we have couples aboard, maybe a romantic evening venue can be earned with points. I, myself, am an accomplished orator. I can tell stories of old…and new, I suppose."

Cru smiled to himself. Kevin was a character, and maybe exactly what was needed.

"I'll give it some thought. For now, stick to your assigned work. Start working up a proposal that I can look at. If you can find young Emily Hawkins, she'll set you up with a pen and paper."

"Yes, Captain-Sir," said Kevin with a lousy but enthusiastic attempt at saluting.

Crop Gardens, Cargo Bay 2

Recent Aquantence #2

Three men and two women stood together in a narrow walkway between competing vines of cucumbers and acorn squash. The scent of mulch and turned soil hung heavy in the air. The lighting was dimmed down to represent the ending of a daylight cycle for the plants.

The men and women were not members of the crew or the newly settled residents. They didn't belong there. Their appearance was that of thugs or henchmen or paramilitary enforcers. Their coats were long and dark and gave a sense of hidden weapons. They wore jeans with the legs tucked into heavy black boots.

In front of the small group was a scrappy woman with tattoos up and down her arms. Her name was Liddy Pearlman. She faced forward, at the ready, with one fist cocked back over her shoulder and her other arm out behind her, establishing the boundary between Evvie and the five.

No one else was in the huge room. The five had chosen the timing of their appearance well.

Evvie was shaken with anger and fear. She stood straight and tall behind the younger woman but she was rigid and her hands were fists at her side.

"What's this about?" growled Cru as he advanced with a scowl and an unwavering gate. His eyes were narrowed and fixed. The holstered 9mm on his hip pressed into his palm, the safety was already off, and its business was ready to toll.

"Captain, we're just having a talk with your lady friend," said the first of the five. His name was Lieman. He was the leader, not by brawn but by cleverness and maneuverings. He gave a smile, but it was far from social. It was the kind of smile that calculating people give when they believe they are in control.

"He's armed," said Liddy with a gesture.

"Which?" said Cru as he drew closer.

"The ugly one," said Liddy with a scowl.

"They're all ugly," said Cru as his face dipped forward. He liked none of what he was seeing and he was moments away from making dramatic changes.

"Him for sure," said Liddy. She pointed at the big man directly behind Lieman. "Maybe the others. I don't know."

"Slow down, Captain, we're just talking," said Lieman with another smile. He was about to find out how not in control he was.

Cru snapped a glance over to Evvie.

"They're threatening us," said Evvie. Her voice quivered.

"That's not true," said Lieman. "We've made some suggestions…" He took a step back because Cru was closing on them with no sign of hesitation. "...on how you should operate," he continued.

Wham!

Cru drew the 9mm in a flash and hit Lieman with the full blunt traumatic weight of it, on the left side of his head.

Lieman fell backward on his way down into the tangle of vines. The big man behind Lieman opened his coat and swung up a pistol-gripped sawed-off shotgun. He was too slow. He should have left it at his side and waited. There would be talk. There had to be talk because talk is what they did. They never needed to do more than that. The five were there to apply pressure - only. Evvie had an expanding business that had caught the attention of others. Cru had a tylium supply that was not without notice. But "Ugly" pulled the weapon out. If he had lived past the next second, he would have been punished with a severe beating, by the ones who ordered him and the others to visit Bree's Twin.

At point-blank range, Cru shot the man three times in the chest, in less than a single second.

Scrappy Liddy dove and pulled Evvie down and out of the way, as the shotgun fired in the direction where Evvie had been standing.

Cru rounded on the others. "Stop!" he shouted at the remaining three who were jumping to action. But, Cru was leaps ahead of anything they were attempting.

At the same time, Liddy sprang to her feet with a long knife in hand.

John had seen the activity from the bridge. He called for the others, grabbed his rifle, and charged down to Cru. He entered the Cargo Bay from the stairs. John was sixty feet away from the group. At that distance, the best he could do was drop to a knee, and with his rifle, take a bead on the left-most assailant, the one furthest from Cru.

Liddy circled towards Lieman. Two steps more and she would have her blade at his throat.

The confrontation ended moments later.

~~~~~/~~~~~

"Captain Cru, what the hell is happening over there?" President Roslin's voice left no concealment on her displeasure.

"Madam President, nothing of note," said Cru. "Nothing at all."

"Excuse me?" said Roslin. Her voice was level but conveyed a whole lot of trouble for Cru. "That's not what I have been told. I'm told you have a dead body over there."

"Yes, ma'am, only one, and I would call it a model of restraint on my part."

Roslin took a breath. Cru was military and she knew better than to lose her composure with one of Adama's people.

"Okay Captain, let's start over. Okay? Tell me what happened."

"Ma'am, I am dealing with it."

"Sure Captain, but I need more than that. I need to know what happened. They call you 'Freefall', am I right? Tell me what I need to know, Freefall."

The name "Freefall" was Cru's old callsign, or military nickname, and was given to him after he boarded a stricken, free-falling, fleet tanker and averted a major crash. Some of the Galactica crew called him "Freefall", especially the pilots.

Cru gave a hiss through his teeth. He didn't need the president in his head, trying to connect with him. "Freefall? Really?" He was perfectly cogent in the rational sense. Some unknown mob entity had threatened him and his crew and he was acting on that threat. He beat the hell out of Lieman for answers but gained nothing. Lieman was now unconscious, in a pool of his own blood, and locked in one of the empty rooms. The three remaining, who had boarded with Lieman were also locked away. Cru had not decided what he would do with them.

On a smaller matter but also taxing was the scrappy woman with the knife. She was still among the residents. He recognized her as the woman who beat on Evvie back aboard the Pyxis. T-Dog chose her for some reason, which would require a hard conversation as to why. He would deal with that later.

Oh, and he needed to clamp down on the shuttles that landed aboard his ship or attached to the access port. A typical day had three or four transactions, mostly for garden produce and sometimes for parts, but they allowed for too many people in and out. That would need to be dealt with as well.

"Captain?" The President was waiting for answers.

"Madam President," said Cru in a lighter tone. "Somebody is trying to make a name for themselves in the underworld or whatever they're calling it. They sent some people over here and I managed it."

"That's three times, Captain. Three attacks on your ship."

"Only two, ma'am. The second group was your Kobol separatists, if you'll forgive the bluntness. They were mostly harmless. And, I have no proof the first group was related to this last group."

Roslin paused. Cru's ship was not the only vessel having trouble with mob-like activities. Thievery and looting brought on by desperation had cropped up throughout the fleet and the equivalent of turf-guarding by some who possessed weapons was known. But, Roslin was no fool. Organized crime was building and pushing out.

"I'm sending people over there. You will need to turn over your prisoners to them."

"Yes, ma'am," said Cru. "Do you want the dead body?"

"Captain, what would I do with a dead body?"

~~~~~/~~~~~

Galactica, Commander Adama's Quarters

Late the next day

Cru opened his bag for the sentry to inspect. Two heavily armed Marines stood on either side of the access to Adama's quarters. They came to attention as Cru approached. He pulled out a single bottle of '67 Amber Select Ambrosia. It was one of two such bottles he had intended to share with the Commander and Colonel Tigh. Adama was still recovering from his two gunshot wounds and only recently was allowed to have a drink - or maybe two - per Doctor Cottle's orders.

The Marine smiled at the bottle. "Nice, sir. Clearly rank has its privileges."

Cru returned the smile. "I don't know about rank, Corporal, but it's always good to keep a couple choice bottles on hand in case Cylon nukes jack your favorite distilleries." Cru made a little light humor with the Marine. It was okay to relax within the company of his own, so to speak. "Preparedness is thy friend, Marine," added Cru.

The corporal laughed. "So say we all, sir."

"Indeed," said Cru. "Okay then, is the Old Man inside?"

"He is. The President is also. She arrived this morning."

"Oh…" said Cru.

"Corporal, send the Major in," said Adama. Adama's door was open and he could hear the two marines speaking.

Cru put the bottle back in the bag, nodded to the Marine sentries, and entered.

Adama stood directly in front of Cru and gestured to his right. President Roslin was seated in Adama's armchair and stood with a slight wobble, which was not lost on Cru.

"Major," said Adama, "you know President Roslin."

"Of course, sir," said Cru. He turned to the president, stepped his heels together, and gave a formal bow with his head. "Madam President."

"Major," replied Roslin.

"I'm interrupting," said Cru. "With permission, I will take my leave."

"Stay," said Adama.

Roslin agreed with a nod.

"Very well," said Cru. "Thank you."

"Drink?" said Adama.

Cru made a quick assessment. Adama had a drink of his own and was reaching for a second glass. Roslin had a glass of water.

"I'm not drinking, Major," said Roslin. She called him "Major" because the Commander did. In her world, Cru was a ship "Captain". "But, do go ahead."

"Ma'am," said Cru in acknowledgment.

Cru opened his bag, withdrew the '67, and handed it to Adama.

"Fact is, we've been discussing you," said Adama. He held the bottle in his hands and eyed it with appreciating curiosity, before setting it down.

"Major, I am curious," said Roslin. "Why are you not flying? You flew me around all those years ago and Commander Adama says you are an excellent pilot."

"You remember all of that, then?" said Cru to Roslin. "I'm honored."

"I do. It was aboard the Trejo Station. I was there about eight months, I think"

"Yes Ma'am, that sounds right. I count my months in your service, with the highest regard."

"Uh-huh," said Roslin, not convinced. She turned to Adama. "He played nursemaid to a low-ranking undersecretary on her first assignment of any great worth. It was a far cry from his other exploits, I am certain."

"Not so, ma'am," said Cru with a smile. "Not on being a 'nursemaid' and not on the other work. My service on Trejo was was well-timed and well-needed.

Roslin conceded with a nod. "How are you, Major?"

Cru's recent interactions with Roslin were limited. He found her to be gruff and sometimes downright angry. Now, she was more civil towards him. Perhaps it was in Adama's company.

"Ma'am, I'm doing okay," said Cru.

"Good," said Roslin.

Roslin attempted to sit back down in the chair but it was difficult for her. Her body ached continuously. Cru was quick to step forward and offer his arm. Roslin took hold as she eased herself back, not because she needed his help, but because she was reminded of the Major as a young Lieutenant and herself as a new government officer. Cru was just as quick to hold out his arm as she exited his raptor or stepped down through a hatchway. He was the gentleman back then during far easier times.

"Major, you did not answer the President," said Adama.

Adama was pointing out the oversight. The question was important in some way. "Ma'am, I no longer fly raptors because I have impaired vision," said Cru. "I have scar tissue in the back of one eye. My raptor days are over unless there is no one else to fly them. Gods help us if we're ever down to that."

"The Major serves in the CIC," added Adama. "He takes overnight hours in a rotation with the other officers."

"And you captain your ship, Bree's Twin, by day," added Roslin.

"Yes, ma'am." Cru sensed where the conversation might be going. That perhaps, Adama and Roslin did not believe he could do both.

"Sleep much?" asked Roslin.

"Sleep is overrated," said Cru with a light smile.

Roslin returned the smile, although hers was tired and labored. She racked up countless nights without sleep. The concept was far from unfamiliar.

"How is your ship, then, Major?" continued Roslin.

"Running well, ma'am." Cru smiled. "She's naught but fair winds and following seas."

"Following seas," mused Roslin. "I have no idea what that means."

"It's an old nautical term," said Adama. "It is considered a blessing when your journey happens under favorable winds and in line with the ocean currents."

"Understood," said Roslin. She smiled again, but this time inside. The military spoke in terms that often had not changed in thousands of years. In a way, it was refreshing, simple, and poetic at times, though she would not say as much to a Marine. She was learning.

"The new residents are lodged, settled in, and each has gainful employment."

"That's good," said Roslin.

There was a pause as Adama and Cru both took drinks from their glasses. Cru noted that Adama's ambrosia was good, but the '67 that was now sitting on Adama's desk was far better.

"Major," said Adama getting to the point. Nobody in the room was big on small talk, but that was all they seemed to be doing. "I shared your report with the President. She and I have spoken and we agreed to put armed marines on your ship."

"Armed marines, sir?"

"It will remain a civilian vessel but as a Tylium tanker it is both a fleet and a military asset."

"And the food crops," added Roslin. "Your ship is considered 'essential'."

Cru nodded. "Understood."

Adama and Roslin nodded in affirmation.

"I'll send four," said Adama. "They'll need accommodations. Keep them separate from the general population."

"Of course, sir," said Cru. "This brings up another matter, if I may. It involves navigating politics.

Adama gave a look towards Roslin, which was Cru's cue to address her on the subject.

"I own the ship in full. I can provide the paperwork. I am Caprican and so are the original members of my crew. Armed marines aboard my ship could be problematic.

"Because you registered your ship on Sagittaron," said Roslin. "This has been brought to my attention, multiple times, by a man who would not favor mixing civilian and the military."

"Yes, ma'am, exactly that. Sagittaron seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, with Mr. Zarek as Representative, not so much."

"Counselor Zarek has laid claim to your ship, for Sagittaron."

"Yes, ma'am. It is my understanding that ships of the fleet are aligned with the captains, according to ownership. But that does not seem to be the case here."

"There is no hard and fast rule on this. Many captains were employees of commercial vessels - not the owners."

"Then it should be a ship's home port. Bree's Twin was parked outside Caprica City for five years."

Roslin nodded. "I confess I don't wish for Zarek to have authority over any ship, especially yours. Is it your intention to declare Bree's Twin for Caprica?"

"It is. It has been. I have done so on many occasions."

"Okay," said Roslin. "Leave Zarek to me."

This ends Chapter 22

What I was thinking while writing.

We are in the timeline before Season 2, Episode 9 (Before the Laura is launched).

I met a fellow like Kevin while on a cruise. He was charged with helping people off the ship and down the docks. He was a riot.

If you read the end notes like these, I noted a woman in chapter 12 who was an Olympian and Gemenon's version of an MMA wrestler. This is Liddy. Starvation and thirst during her time on the Pyxis took their toll.

I've started writing an encounter between Ellen Tigh and Evvie. I soooo wanted to add it to this chapter but the word count was getting too long. It should be in the next.