Responses to Earlier Comments:
Big shout out to Australia and another to the US. According to the stats, someone from both countries read every chapter. At 120,000 words, it is no small feat. Thank you for your time.
War Sage, I liked the work program too. I haven't spent a lot of time with Evvie lately but wanted to show that her image was continuing to grow. I appreciate your comments on support ships. It's an easy argument to make that the Battlestars are like a starbase, self-contained with everything they need during peace. I still like the idea of a battle group, with ships of all sizes covering different needs. It makes it easier to believe that little 'Stiletto' might be traveling with the big dogs.
I have not heard from some of you in a while. I still value your feedback. If you're still reading, please drop a note.
***All comments are welcome. I'll do my best to respond***
Disclaimer: Please note: I own no part or share in the Battlestar Galactica realm, commercial or otherwise. This story is submitted for entertainment purposes only. Oh, and any similarities to people present or past are purely coincidental.
Reminder: I did not spend time making up non-earth names for BSG things - grass, rock star, starlet, etc. They are in there as is. I wanted to avoid introducing new terms, explaining them, and potentially causing confusion if/when they are used later without their explanations.
Ch 35 - Stiletto, Part II
"I could have put a shirt on."
~Cru's Journal if he had time to keep one.
Caprica Mission
Day 2 after landing
The task force angled upwards, climbing higher and higher as Caprica fell away beneath them. The Cylons were around them. They commanded the skies but did not attack. They watched at a distance, all but one, which angled towards an intercept.
"Tighten it up, people" called Cru to the formation. "Little Debbie, Buckshot, and Cat Lady stay on me. Starbuck, the lead is yours."
Cru was a pace off the main formation, running interference, should the Cylons swoop in from the sides or above. Little Debbie, Buckshot, and Cat Lady swung up on him in a Trailing V overwatch. The Stiletto was below the group in close formation, scanning the many threats rising from the planet's surface.
"Right," said Starbuck. "People, we're in a Buffered Double Wedge. Cover your damn positions or you'll be wearing my size eight boot up your Six. Jacksprit, hold the line. I swear to the gods, you will not embarrass me in front of the Chrome-Domes and the shiny new Colonel."
Cru gave a half smile. They had lost pilots, ECOs, and Marines. The weight was heavy on him. Still, Thrace was a trip at times and could be entertaining.
"Why aren't they attacking?" asked Dragoon, Cru's ECO. She was tracking more Cylon DRADIS contacts than she could count.
Cru nodded his head. "Maybe it's the Stiletto. I don't know."
Cru watched Jacksprit for a short moment. The new pilot had never seen combat and it was showing in his shaky overcompensations. No doubt, the pilot was watching the Cylons instead of his controls.
"That Cylon transport, or whatever that is on our left, " called Dragoon, "they're still coming in."
"Understood," said Cru as he clicked on his mic. "Starbuck, we're peeling away on the left. Setting a picket."
"Acknowledged. The rest of you stay the course," called Starbuck, "and damn it, Sprit, this isn't a gorram flight simulator. Stop frakk'n the roll or you're grounded."
Even with a hard burn, the Stiletto took longer to ascend compared to the nimble Raptors. They had to reach higher altitudes quickly to engage their FTL drives. The slower Sloop of War exposed them to the Cylons for far longer than planned.
"Cat Lady, come up wing and wing on my right," said Cru. "Little Debbie and Buckshot, fall back and flag away to the left. Flying V if we engage. Acknowledge your understanding."
"Understood," said Little Debbie.
"Copy that," called Buckshot and Cat Lady.
Cru and his small formation angled out towards the lone Cylon.
The Cylon ship edged closer and closer. It was a sizable transport vessel - more than a hundred and fifty feet long. It had a long row of windows on either side like an interplanetary passenger shuttle might have. In plain sight, looking out one of the windows was a Model Six Cylon. She looked intently at Cru across the distance, as if studying what she could of his face.
"Gods, it's one of the skin-jobs," called Buckshot. "I am seriously weirded out."
"Cut the chatter, Buckshot," called Cru. "Someone get me some pictures of her."
"On it," said Sparky who was Cat Lady's ECO.
"Freefall, I need a SitRep," called Starbuck from her position up front.
"Right," said Cru. "Be advised we are looking at a single large Cylon transport with light weaponry. They have corrected to a parallel course with us. Distance, twenty-five yards and holding. There is a Cylon human analog watching us - one of the blonde types we call a "Godfrey."
"Copy that, Freefall," called Starbuck. "Light her up if she closes. We jump in forty seconds."
"Copy that," said Cru.
The jump coordinates were dialed in and Thrace counted down the jump when they were under five seconds away. Cru took a final glance over at the Cylon. The platinum blonde Six curled up the sides of her mouth into a slight smile. It was odd. In his report, Cru described it as "the kind of smile people give when introducing friends - or turning tricks."
~~~~~/~~~~~
The moment the task force stood down from the first jump, Cru and Starbuck connected via secured ship-to-ship.
"Colonel, that ship is a frak'n wildcard," growled Thrace. "Our asses were hanging out back there."
"Captain, what part of the mission do you think I don't understand?" said Cru. "What part of 'Command Decision' needs a better description?"
"Colonel, you-" began Starbuck.
"Captain," interrupted Cru with a growl. He wasn't done. "We got people landed on that ship - our people - Downtown, Frost, Dipsy, and the recently departed Chuckwagon. You got wounded with you and they got a doctor - two of them. Get it? I'm done with this conversation."
There was a long pause. Thrace cursed a lot. Cru assumed she was doing just that, with the mic off. He assumed his name was mixed in with the cursing.
"Alright, Colonel," said Thrace with a grumble. "The next jump, Velarii puts the Stiletto and Bricker out front, we lock and load, and we frak'n board her at Gunpoint. If Bricker says no, we ball-pean the frakker."
Cru gave another half-smile and exchanged glances with his ECO.
"She's gotta mouth like yours," said Cru.
Dragoon gave an agreeing nod. "Yeah, get her sauced and she'll shame a slop-waster on the long haul."
Cru shook his head. "I was in the freight business and I have no idea what that means."
Dragoon gave a small laugh. "After your time, sir."
"Right…"
Cru clicked the mic on. "That works for me, Captain. Please see it done."
Thrace didn't reply.
~~~~~/~~~~~
The homecoming of Starbuck's successful mission and the added prize of a third warship, albeit a small third warship, should have been grounds for celebration but it didn't work out like that. The two Cylon Cavils were discovered, one aboard the Galactica and one having arrived with the Caprican fighters. In less than half an hour, word had swept across the fleet of yet another identified Cylon model. Panic ensued, along with the neigbor-turn-on-neighbor suspicions and accusations of a new Cylon 'witch-hunt'.
~~~~~/~~~~~~
On the second jump. Cru had stood off with weapons ready when Starbuck landed aboard the Stiletto with two marine squads. He missed the initial meet and greet, but that's how things work sometimes. Someone needed to be Thrace's "ball-pean" hammer if enforcement was needed. Bricker understood the heavy need for playing it safe. She welcomed Starbuck aboard, but her people were also fully armed and on high alert.
Eight jumps later, and once they were among the fleet, the Stiletto was ordered a distance off until an extra thorough check could be made. The fleet knew of five Cylon models, Doral, Leoben, Valerii, Godfrey, and now Cavil. Bricker's crew and passengers needed to be confirmed - every one of them.
Cru landed Raptor 338 aboard the Stiletto with two others and a complement of three marine squads, scanning equipment, a military K-9 Gemenon shepherd, and photos of the Cyclons for comparison.
Colonel Bricker waited with her XO, Major Kellin Langly, as the Marines spread out and began addressing Bricker's crew and passengers, and began a thorough, everything-gets-opened, check of the Stiletto.
Colonel Bricker was an imposing woman. She had a strong stature, was tall, and had squared shoulders as if she was descended from the Kesset Revree tribeswomen of old. She was from Tauron and the ancient warrior blood of a fierce and capable people might have been in her veins. She was older than Cru with the last of her brown hair as whisping highlights in a field of gray. Her once blue eyes were gun-metal in color and had the look of hard-won wisdom. She had a certain confidence - like she was in charge and didn't need to prove it. She wore her grey urban cammies, boots, utility belt, and pistol on the hip.
A Marine Drill Instructor - that's who she reminded Cru of.
Bricker's Executive Officer, or XO, was an old fellow with many years before the mast, as they say. Major Langly looked like a sharp and calculating man, but advanced age had whitened his hair and bent his shoulders. He wore his bridge uniform with full accompaniments. Everything about the man was pressed, tidy, and in its place. He was older than Admiral Adama by double digits. He stood upright alongside Colonel Bricker, but the man was tired as if he shouldered a heavy burden.
"Colonel Bricker, I am Lieutenant Colonel Richard Cru," said Cru.
"A Marine senior officer," said Bricker with a stout smile. "Out-frakk'n-standing."
"Marine Commanding Officer and Acting Commandant, Colonel. At your service."
"Colonel Cru," said Bricker as she gestured to the side, "this is my Executive Officer, Major Langly."
"Major," said Cru in acknowledgment.
"Lieutenant Colonel Cru," said Langly, "a pleasure, sir."
"And, this is my ECO," said Cru with a gesture, "Lieutenant Sessida Deepwater."
"Lieutenant," said Bricker with her acknowledgment.
"Good afternoon, Ma'am - Good afternoon, Sir," said Dragoon with proper nods to both officers. She could be lippy at times but was duly silent.
Bricker gave a slight smile and returned the nod. She gestured towards Cru's raptor. "Shall we, Colonel?" She had been ordered to the Galactica by Admiral Adama.
"Yes, Ma'am," said Cru.
~~~~~/~~~~~
Bricker sat up front with Cru, on the flight over to Galactica. Out of the corner of Cru's eye, he could see her taking great interest in the size of the fleet and the many people that must be within. More than 50,000 had escaped the Cyclon's attempt at annihilation, but here was proof of humankind's resilience. She and her people waited in hiding for the counter-attack that never came - they waited among the dead. It was a dream for her, to find so many still alive.
"I understand we were not part of the little Caprica party, as your Captain Thrace was quick to note," said Bricker, "but I do appreciate your taking us along."
"Colonel," said Cru, "We appreciated not having to battle our way star-side to make our jumps. Glad you and the Stiletto were there."
Bricker gave another short smile and a nod.
"I have twenty-two Marines aboard, Cru, said Bricker, "with Lieutenant James Berringer as their CO. I'll make introductions as soon as I can."
"Very good, Ma'am," said Cru.
"Tell me, Cru, what should I know about Admiral Adama and Colonel Tigh? Oh, and I am very interested in 'President' Roslin."
"Admiral Adama is a great man and a strong leader. Colonel Tigh is about as tough as I've known in an XO."
Bricker nodded. "That says a lot. Good to know it. And, this President Roslin? What about her?"
Cru smiled, "Colonel Bricker, that is a long tale."
~~~~~/~~~~~
Galactica
3 hours later
Cru stood before a locker, one of many in a long row. The number plate on the locker door was chipped. The number '218' was barely readable. Galactica was old and well-maintained, but the small things showed the age. In the next room over, many showers were running as cool air drew up thin clouds of mist. Several exhausted teams, at long last standing down from the Caprica mission, were ridding themselves of old sweat and grit.
Cru was stripped to the waist, wearing just camo trousers and a web belt. The man was powerful in the frame with muscles and tendons like thick, knotted, rope. His dark, sun-baked Caprican skin bore the marks of his trade, with scars from cuts and gashes in the heavy-equipment workplace. But there were other scars too, scars of violence, from his time in service.
"Something to say, Thrace?" His voice was gravelly, with that 'You'd better have a good reason for bothering me' tone. He didn't need to look, to know she was there at the end of the row.
Starbuck made a face. This was not the time. She knew how to work a room. She knew how to spin poison into rapier-like retorts. She could blow cigarette smoke in the face of Gaius Frakking Baltar and lay him out with a right hook, the next moment, but no, this was not the time.
Cru looked like he had just stepped out of a combat video game.
In stark comparison, nothing Starbuck could say or do would make her look like anything but an indignant first-year cadet with her tights in a bunch. No, she was keenly aware of how it would look if she stepped in toe to toe with Cru at that moment. He outranked her by two military grades but it was far more than that. He was twice her size and she would be looking up at him, even with him barefoot and she in her boots. It would be laughable. She would look ridiculous.
As Starbuck's footsteps faded away, Cru remained unmoved, deep in thought.
The Cylons had the advantage in the skies over Caprica. Thrace wasn't wrong. The Stiletto was slow getting to speed and it endangered everyone. They would have had to fight their way out and truth told, the mission would have failed were it not for the "alleged" cessation of hostilities by the Cylons. Cru had made the call, and he was well aware of how lucky they had been.
This ends Chapter 35
Author notes:
In the show, I didn't like how the Cylon occupation of the colonies just happened to end when Thrace and her team were there. But, it helps get my narrative through.
That "muscles and tendons like knotted rope" business was something I wrote for the early chapters but couldn't use the piece it was part of. I forgot about it and really wanted to use it to finish off Cru's look. It's a bit gratuitous in the 35th chapter and doesn't really add value in the presence of Starbuck, other than to throw her off a bit. I might look for a better place for it.
Thrace is an enigma. She's tough and she's top-stick with her flying, so she gets away with a lot. I think it's okay to have another senior officer that she can't ignore or be insubordinate with. For Admiral Adama, she fears his disapproval. For Cru, the man's not a pushover and she needs his Marines if she's called on to lead other missions.