Disclaimer: The characters of Battlestar Galatica do not belong to me. I'm simply borrowing them for my own amusement and hopefully a few others.
AN: Okay, so I decided to take a stab at a multi-chapter story and introducing some OC's. Not sure how this is going to go over but I'm hoping people will give it a chance. The story picks up after the "Resurrection Ship" episodes in the second season. I haven't watched too many more episodes after that but until then the events in the show hold true.
"Viper 8567, we've got your landing solution. Pisus now has the ball."
"Copy that Pisus. You have the ball," Phoenix replied, flipping the switch to turn the Viper Mark V controls over to the landing computer of the Valkyrie class battlestar she was approaching. Though no longer in control of her craft, Phoenix kept her hand poised over the controls, ready to resume control should the autolanding sequence fail, as unlikely as that was to occur. She knew many pilots tended to relax at this point, but she never had been able to. Perhaps it was because being a programmer herself, she knew a program was only as good as the people who implemented it, and they were all humans. Errors occurred, no many how many checks and failsafes were put into place.
As soon as the maglocks secured her craft to the deck of the Pisus, Phoenix finally allowed herself to relax. Already her mind was going through the list of things that needed to be done now that she was done with her assigned CAP. There was the post-flight check to perform, debriefing, the weekly computer systems check to initiate for their small fleet of four vessels, and then with any luck she would be able to read her daughter a bed time story tonight instead of just kissing her already sleeping daughter goodnight when she finally found her way to quarters.
As soon as her Viper had come to a stop on the flight deck, Phoenix was removing her gloves and helmet. As the cockpit canopy slid back, she handed the helmet to the flight mechanic waiting at the top of the ladder.
"How was the flight, Phoenix?" Recruit Jason Bronson asked, as he took the helmet from Phoenix. He placed the helmet on the top of the ladder and then reached down to unfasten the locking collar for the pilot.
"Thankfully, boring," Phoenix replied as she lifted herself from the cockpit, thankful to be able to leave it behind.
There was a time when she had happily thought of a cockpit as her second home but that seemed like a another time now, in more ways than one. When she had chosen to turn in her wings almost four years ago, it was with the intention of never sitting in a cockpit again. She had enjoyed flying but the pressures of combat and military life, which she had already resented from her childhood, had taken the joy out of that. The complexities and problems to solve offered to her by the world of computer programming had beckoned to her. She had finally decided to follow her heart despite knowing how disappointed her father would be. She had never once regretted that choice.
Nor did she regret her choice to get back behind the controls of a viper again. The Cylon attack had changed the world they lived in and her skills as a pilot were just as vital to their survival as her computer skills. Despite being able to refuse the rank offered to her, she couldn't refuse the request to take to the skies again to protect the ships they now called their homes and her daughter.
"Any problems with the ship?" Bronson asked, as he stood to the side to allow Phoenix to descend the ladder.
"She seems to be flying a little off balance. I think the port engine might be a bit sluggish. Other than that, things seemed okay," Phoenix replied, as her feet hit the metal flight deck. Raised voices made her look to her right where he wingman for the day, Raymond "Hothead" Gibson seemed to be chewing a flight mechanic. She was relieved to note it was one of the more experienced flight crew from the Pisus that had stayed on board to help with the experiments, rather than one of the young mechanics originally assigned to the Ares, like Bronson had been.
"I'm glad I haven't had to deal with him," Bronson commented from the top of the ladder, having followed Pheonix's gaze.
Phoenix gazed up at the young mechanic, who had been two weeks shy of finishing basic training when the Cylons had attacked the colonies. Bronson and his fellow trainees from the Ares had been thrown right into the fire, and with very few exceptions, had performed their duties without fail. Even those who had balked at certain times had to be cut some slack. Their simple training mission of 'protection' detail had changed to a flee for survival in a matter of minutes. One could hardly blame those who had gotten 'cold feet' in the midst of all that.
"Yeah, the chief isn't going to throw you to the wolf just yet, Bronson," Phoenix replied. Hothead Gibson was one of the pilots onboard the Pisus that she had flown with back during her time as a Colonial Fleet aviator. She knew how the guy operated and could deal with him, hence the reason their CAG, Colonel Raymond 'Lonewolf' Belmont, usually paired the two of them up. His bouts of anger were just his way of blowing off steam. "But when the day comes, remember Hothead is all bark and no bite. He likes to spout out words and shoot things out of the sky but he's one of the few pilots in the Colonial Fleet who hasn't been in an off duty fist fight."
"Were you ever involved in an off duty fist fight, ma'am?"
Phoenix smiled up at the mechanic. "First of all, drop the ma'am. I'm still a civie and second, I've thrown a few punches but that's as far as things got."
"Rumor has it you punched a superior officer once?"
"Well, that is one rumor that is true," Phoenix replied, not about to deny the charge. She had long ago come to terms with the actions of her past and moved beyond them. She may not be proud of some of the things she had done, but they were a part of her. "If you ever want to resign from the fleet, Bronson, that is not the way I recommend carrying out the resignation. Only thing standing between me and a dishonorable discharge was Daddy pulling a few strings."
"Do you ever regret leaving the fleet?"
Phoenix paused a moment considering her answer. "I regret the way I chose to go about it, but I don't regret leaving the fleet. Now, if you'll excuse me I'd like to get out of this flight uniform and take care of business."
"You got it, ma'a . . . Phoenix," Bronson replied, catching his own error before the pilot had a chance to correct him. "I'll have her purring like a kitten by the next time you have to take her up."
"Good to hear. Carry on, recruit." Phoenix said, glancing once more toward her wingman. The other pilot was still fuming about something. Not really in the frame of mind of dealing with Hothead right then, she instead started across the flight deck. She planned on checking in with Lonewolf to give him the CAP report, then showering and changing before heading to CIC. Despite the long hours she had already put in, she knew she had a few more to log before she could call it day.
That was the same boat they were all in. Despite the low number of casualties they had suffered since fleeing the colonies, Pisus was still understaffed. The ship had been operating with a half compliment while she and her crew had been utilizing the ship for their experiments. It was why the ship's former XO was now commanding the ship and why their CAG had come out of retirement to oversee the two viper squadrons of Pisus and Ares.
The harsh reality was that life was no longer about following your dream and doing what you wanted. Their very survival hinged on everybody putting their skills to use as well as learning new ones. It was about doing what needed to be done even if there were personal sacrifices that needed to be made, like her climbing behind the controls of a viper again or Lonewolf coming out of retirement.
Still, there were times when Phoenix wondered if it was worth it. They had been running for six months now, with no end in sight. With each day that passed, the likelihood of joining up with other survivors got slimmer. Each jump that helped them evade the Cylons only diminished those chances further. Space was a vast place, and this small group of four ships were on their own. The hope they had began with on day one was slowly dwindling. Phoenix had no idea what made her fellow shipmates go on day after day, but she knew that if it wasn't for her daughter she would have long ago given up. Her daughter was the only thing she had to live for anymore, and finding that something to live for was the only motivation there was these days.
"Viper 7647, break off on your approach. You're too low," Galactica's flight controller said through the radio.
It's recipient didn't receive the message, as he was lost in his own thoughts. Lost in the memory of being alone, adrift in space with his air running out. He recalled feeling a touch of excitement as he could finally see an end to the long hours, constant running, and orders that he didn't agree with. An end to the guilt he had felt since destroying the Olympic Carrier. No, that wasn't right. Yes, he felt guilty about pulling the trigger even though the ship had been apparently abandoned but the guilty feeling hadn't began there. He had felt guilty ever since they had escaped the Cylons at Ragnar. Guilty because he had survived when so many others hadn't.
He had no naive notions that he was alone in that guilt. He was sure many in the fleet shared that feeling of survivors guilt. For him though, it had only added to the feelings he had been struggling with before the Cylon attack on the colonies. The anger he had felt against his father that he now knew to be at least partially unjustified and guilt over the secrets he had been keeping from people who should have been important in his life.
"Apollo, break off your approach!"
The now near frantic order from flight control finally broke through the distracted pilot's thoughts. Quickly taking in the situation, Apollo banked his fighter hard to the left, veering away from Galactica's landing bay.
"Viper 7647, everything okay out there?"
"This is Viper 7647, Galactica," Apollo replied in a calm voice, despite his heart still pounding from the near crash landing. "Everything is fine. Coming around for another approach," he continued, purposely not giving an explanation to the missed landing attempt. He wasn't about to explain himself. Mistakes were made, and he wasn't one to think he was above them. He was just thankful the mistake had been made on a routine landing and not a combat landing.
Taking a deep breath, Apollo let it out slowly in an attempt to ground himself and focus his thoughts on the task at hand. He wasn't suicidal. He had no desire to splatter his fighter on Galactica's landing bay despite his admission to Kara two weeks ago that part of him hadn't wanted to come back from his space walk. Like everyone else, he was tired and wanted to find the break in the endless cycle of fleeing from the Cylons. Though he had welcomed that escape when it seemed inevitable he wasn't going to actively try to bring about those circumstances again. If that was the case, he would have used his side arm long before now.
Turning the Viper around, Apollo made another approaching to Galactica. Maintaining focus on the task at hand it wasn't long before his Viper was safely in the hangar bay. He paid little attention to the routine activity going on around him as he pulled off his gloves and helmet. It wasn't until he went to hand his helmet off to the flight mechanic that he realized it wasn't a flight mechanic that had climbed the ladder.
"Everything okay, Lee?" Admiral William Adama asked quietly, hoping the use of his son's name would make Lee more receptive to the question, as he took Apollo's helmet from him.
"Yeah. I missed a landing approach, that's all, Admiral" Lee replied, reaching up to removed the locking collar for the helmet. He was deliberately ignoring his father's use of his name and keeping to the formal address in an attempt to hide his surprise. He had been expecting to get some ribbing from his three pilot's who had been flying the CAP but had hoped it would be limited to that. "Nobody can be perfect one hundred percent of the time, sir," he added.
"It's not like you to totally miss an approach like that, though," Admiral Adama countered, not about to let Lee brush the incident off. He had come down to the landing bay to talk with Lee after several of his pilots, including Starbuck, had expressed concern about Lee pushing himself too hard and not acting like himself. They had said he had been more withdrawn and more irritable when it came to mistakes instead of supportive and helpful. Though Bill had noticed the withdrawn part himself, he had been willing to let it go. Lee had been through a lot with recent events and a close call like the one he'd had only weeks ago would be enough to shake anyone. The concerns from the pilots and now this botched landing attempt gave him cause for concern though.
"So, I messed up! Is that a crime?" Lee asked, climbing from the cockpit and moving past his father. "I've always been a disappointment to you though so that really shouldn't surprise you," he continued, making his way down the ladder.
The uncharacteristic outburst had William even more concerned. Following his son down the ladder, he placed a hand on Lee's shoulder when he was standing beside him. "Lee, I want to talk to you for a few minutes."
"I don't really have the time. I've got paperwork to do, and word has it one of my pilots may be out with a sprained ankle which is totally going to throw off the rotation," Lee replied, his voice mildly calmer now.
"Hey, did you space out there, Apollo," a laughing voice interrupted. Seconds later Crow and Helo who had been flying CAP with Apollo came into sight. "That landing approach would have made a nugget look . . ." Crow's taunt trailed off upon seeing Admiral Adama standing by Apollo.
Quickly, Crow, Helo, and Racetrack, who had been following behind the other two, stood at attention, raising there hand in a salute.
"As you were," Admiral Adama told the pilots, even as he hastily returned the salute as military protocol required.
"Sorry, sir. We didn't realize you were on the flight deck," Crow said apologetically as he held his hands behind him in an at ease position.
"None of us did, Crow. It's not often the Admiral shows up to welcome back a CAP," Apollo interjected, the sarcasm clear in his voice.
Admiral Adama looked over at his son, though he tried to mask his surprise. His son usually held his sarcastic comments in check unless they were somewhere private. The other three pilots looked nervously in directions other then the CAG and the ship's commander.
"Why don't the three of you shower and hit the rack. Morning briefing is at 0800 tomorrow morning," Apollo told his pilot, ignoring the look he was getting from his father. "There's probably going to be changes to the schedule."
"Yes, sir," the other three pilots replied, all three of them trying to disguise the relief they felt. They could sense the tension between father and son and were more than happy to vacate the area.
Alone, other than the flight mechanics doing post-flight checks on the vipers, Lee turned to face his father. "What was it you needed me for, sir?" he asked, ignoring the not so subtle looks the mechanics were throwing in his direction when they thought they wouldn't be seen. "Or did you just come down to observe routine landings?"
"I came down here to talk to you, Lee," William replied, trying to stay calm. Letting Lee see that he was getting to him would only make the situation worse. "Several of your pilots have expressed concern about you and from what I'm seeing I think those concerns are justified. Perhaps you need to take a step back and delegate some things to others. Let Kara rework the flight rotation for example."
Lee let out a bitter laugh. "No one would be able to read what she comes up with, not to mention her method of reworking the schedule would probably be to simply plug in a name with no concern of when their next scheduled rotation is and I'd have a pilot flying back to back CAPs." He didn't bother to add the fact that she had the overnight CAP.
"Let Helo do it then. He's got the most seniority after Starbuck. It would be good experience for him," Admiral Adama replied, clearly not about to let the suggestion slide so easily. His intention when coming down here was to get Lee to take a step back from the amount of time he was putting into the job voluntarily. From the reports from the other pilots, he believed that Lee was rapidly heading toward being burned out. From his brief exchange already, William was more convinced of that.
"I can handle it. It shouldn't take me more than a half hour tops," Lee countered.
"And then you'll spend how much time doing other paperwork before grabbing a couple hours of sleep before you start your day again. My guess is that your on the rotation to fly CAP at least part of the day again tomorrow."
"So what if I am," Lee replied defiantly. "The pilot rotation is at my discretion."
"True, but I've pulled your flight logs, Lee. You've been putting a lot of hours in the cockpit since returning to Galactica. Since the fleet had to jump last night at twenty-one hundred hours, you've logged eighteen hours and it hasn't even been twenty-four hours since that jump. You were talking about Starbuck scheduling a pilot for back-to-back CAPs and yet two days ago you did exactly that."
"Flattop wasn't feeling well. Ask the flight mechanics who had to clean puke up off the floor and out of the cockpit of his viper. Someone had to take his place."
"And you feel a responsibility to not ask your pilots to do something you wouldn't do yourself. I get it, Lee, but your responsibilities extend beyond flying routine patrols and defending this ship during the attack."
"With all do respect, sir, I know my duties and responsibilities as CAG and I'm not letting any of them slide."
"True, you haven't but you're putting in too many hours, Lee. Eventually something is going to give, and signs of that happening are already showing. Your pilots are starting to notice it and I just watched you botch a routine landing."
"I got distracted on the approach. If you would employ the automated landing system that every ship in the fleet that doesn't have an archaic commander at the helm put to use, then it wouldn't have been an issue at all."
William felt his anger rising again at his son's comment. He knew a lot of people weren't happy with that particular standing order on Galactica but he believed it helped keep the pilots on their toes and less likely to make mistakes when it did count. "And if you got distracted during combat landing instead of a routine landing, what would have happened then?" he asked, taking a step closer to his son. He didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "I have no desire to have any of my pilots in med bay, or worse yet, in the morgue, because of something that could have been avoided. Yes, mistakes happened but they shouldn't happen because a pilot is pushing themselves too far in an attempt to escape dealing with something else by burying themselves in work."
"And you think that's what I'm doing?" Lee asked, looking straight into his father's eyes.
"Yes. I think ejecting from the Blackbird has left you more shaken than you want to admit, even to yourself, and you're looking for ways to avoid dealing with that," William said, holding his son's gaze. "I think that you're pushing yourself for as long as you can so that when you finally do climb in your rack your so tired you fall right to sleep instead of having time to think about things before sleep claims you."
Lee finally looked away at his father's last presumption, knowing it was true. However, it wasn't just the near death experience of a few week's ago that he was trying to avoid. He didn't want to relive his father getting shot by one of his pilots. Or see the Olympic Carrier go up in flames because he had pulled the trigger. Mostly though, he didn't want to continue to see the faces of those he had loved that in all likelihood had been killed in the Cylon attack on the colonies. Given what tomorrow was though, they were closer to the surface of his thoughts now than when the attack had first happened, and Lee hadn't thought that was possible.
William let the tone of his voice soften as he continued, sensing that he was finally starting to get through to his son. "I didn't come down here to issue ultimatums, son but I'm giving you one now. Either you start delegating some of your work to others and stop putting in so many flight hours, on your own free will or I will temporarily relieve you of duty and let Starbuck run things for awhile."
"We're already short on pilots! You can't do that!"
"I can, and I will if it becomes necessary. So what's your decision."
Lee sighed. Despite his protest, he had no doubt his father would carry through with the threat he had just issued. "I'll get Helo to rework the flight schedule and call it a night. The paperwork can wait until tomorrow."
"Good," William said, relieved that Lee hadn't tried calling him on his threat but knowing that his son wasn't going to be happy with the next stipulation either. "Along with replacing the injured pilot, tell Helo to replace you in the CAP rotation for the next two days."
"You're grounding me, now?" Lee asked incredulously, looking back at his father. His raised voice had the flight mechanics giving up all pretense of discretion as they all looked toward the duo.
Aware of their audience, William didn't try to keep his voice low when he said the next words. Trying to hide what he was going to say would only fuel rumors as people tried to guess what his reply was. As Lee had already attracted attention by his outburst it was best to let those watching know where he was going with this.
"From routine patrol, yes I am, Captain. You've been putting in too many flight hours. If there is a call to Condition One, then you are free to fly but unless that happens I want you on board Galactic. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir," Lee replied. "Will that be all, Admiral?"
William Adama held back the sigh that he felt ready to escape. This was not the conversation he had intended to come down here and have. His intention on meeting Lee when he came back from the CAP tonight had been so that Lee couldn't avoid him. He had no idea how his son made that avoidance look so easy when they both were aboard the same ship. All he had wanted to do was talk to Lee, as father and son, and once again the conversation had spiraled completely out of control.
"Yes, Captain," William replied instead. Returning the salute is son gave him. As Lee turned to walk away however, Galactica's commander reached out and grabbed Lee's arm, causing his son to pause and look back at him. "Look, Lee," he began, lowering his voice once again. "I didn't come down here as your commanding officer. I came down here as a concerned father who wanted to have a conversation with his son and I still do. So why don't you take some time and finish up what you need to do, shower, change and then meet me in my quarters. I know you haven't eaten yet, and what with fleet politics and all the little things that have popped up today neither have I."
"Is that another order disguised as a request, sir?" Lee asked, his eyes still dark with the simmering anger he felt.
"No, it's a simple invitation," William said, feeling a wave a disappointment wash over him even as he released the hold he had on his son's arm. "I won't come looking for you tonight if you don't show, but I hope you take me up on it. I'm concerned about you, Lee, and not just as your commanding officer."
William decided to let the conversation end right there and started walking away before Lee could give him an answer, sarcastic or otherwise. With a heavy heart he headed toward his quarters to wait and see if his son would take him up on the dinner invitation.