BSG-23: The Raid (PG-13)

[pinchy417]

“Raptors report that Ragnar is empty. Looks like the Galactica managed to get there and take just about everything,” Jockey reported looking down at the list from his recon mission. “Warheads, computers, spare parts, the works. Nothing left but some wreckage and two boxes of food and water.”

“Two boxes of food and water?” Major Loren grimaced, “That’s something odd to leave behind.”

“May have forgotten it in the rush,” Major Miller said now happy to be the same rank as Loren as well as the new XO.

“And you can bet there are some basestars not too far away,” Commander Belu added.

The room was hot, stuffy, and damp. Unusually muggy for a starship, but with the extra twelve hundred civilian bodies on board, the life support systems were at their limit. The heat only added to the pressure cooker of the situation. For three days, Miller and a handful of pilots had been trying to figure out a way raid one of the last remaining Colonial supply depots. Every Raptor recon patrol yielded the same results: contact with a Cylon fighter patrol in the area.

“Which,” Miller begrudgingly admitted, “Leads right back to the beginning.”

“We have no way to actually resupply without risking the ship,” Major Loren, the new CAG, reported. “That’s too big of a risk.”

Commander Belu looked over the mission planning plotter one more time. “What about the other coordinates I gave you?” the Commander directed at Jockey.

Jockey looked over the paperwork, “Two of the Raptors failed to locate the targets. Two more reported the space depots had been raided and Stawberry Five hasn’t reported back yet, Sir.”

“Twenty-five years of drifting in space tends to do that,” Belu sighed.

“So much for secret depots. Chances are pirates got to them years ago,” Miller said.

“Lt. Rhodes is working on a formula to see if he can’t narrow down where those other two depots might have drifted to...” Jockey began.

“No,” Belu interrupted shaking his head. “We can’t waste any more aviation fuel on searching for supplies. We only have enough food and water for three more weeks,” Belu reminded his staff.

“Plus our fuel reserves are down a third.”

The young officer corps just looked at each other exhausted. Not only from the constant war footing, but exhausted on ideas. For days they had been going over plans and then war gaming out solutions.

“The simulations showed our best bet would be to attack station Deacon Two Four with the Olympia and send the Defenders with the civilian transports and half our fighters to Upsilon Nine-Seven,” Miller offered with a final determination in his voice.

“I agree, that was the best plan in the sims,” Loren reluctantly seconded. “But, if we lose...it’s over. We lose and humanity’s dead, Sir.”

“And if we don’t try, we die slowly of starvation...no, I won’t let it come to that. We do this, thirty hours ladies and gentleman,” Belu told his crew. “Take half the vipers and redeploy to the flattop and Defenders.”

Everyone looked at each other. For two weeks the Olympia and her eighty civilian ships in tow had managed to escape Cylon detection, but the reality was starting to set in. With no Agro ships, the ability to grow new food was not enough to feed the population. Even at half rations, the fleet would last just weeks and they knew even if the raid proved to be successful, it only postponed the inevitable by a few months at most.

Belu firmly ordered, “Loren, get on the redeployments. Major, wait a moment.” The others exited the room slowly and somberly. They all knew that this was a gamble, something the Old Man was not known for and only underscored their desperation.

“You wanted something, sir?” Miller said still adjusting to his new role as XO. It had been a smoother transition than he had thought, but still it was an adjustment being busted from CAG from
lead flight instructor and then to XO in a matter of hours.

“That piece of a paper I gave you,” Belu asked. Miller grabbed it from his pocket and pulled it off enough to let the Commander know that the XO kept it with him at all times. “If we fail...”

“We won’t fail, Sir,” Miller interrupted.

“If we fail,” the Old Man continued, “I want you to evac most of the crew to the defenders and civilian ships. If we fail I want you on an Evac Raptor and you are to jump to back to the fleet and have them jump there.”

“What is so important about this spot?”

“You’ll find help there.”

“Sir, permission...”

“The Battlestars Mercury, Ajax, and Atlas and their support ships will regroup there, if any survived. We know that the Mercury and Atlas are unaccounted for in the reports from the battle,” Belu finally told the XO.

“Then why haven’t we...”

“Because,” Belu said. “They are to wait three weeks, regroup, and then begin a counter attack. It was a pact I made with their commanders twenty years ago. We saw this coming...”

“Sir,” Miller said puzzled, “Care...”

“No I don’t,” Belu admitted in a soft somber tone. “At anytime you feel during the battle that we will not prevail, your orders are to leave CIC and head for the evac raptor. Don’t even ask, just go. Do you understand me?”

Miller nodded, “Aye, sir, and assume we reach those coordinates and there are colonial ships standing by, what I am supposed to tell them?”

“That the Old Man and this crew fought until the last,” Belu said.

***Hanger Deck***


“Chief,” Major Miller said behind Wilson.

Chief Petty Officer Jessika Wilson jumped and turned around. “Sir,” she offered a salute. Miller returned the salute as the two just stood there in silence.

“You have your orders?” Miller asked.

Jessika nodded, “Yes, sir. Going to The Grim Ann.”

“The Grim Ann,” Miller shot the Chief an odd look.

“Yes, sir, the flatop...civilian ship, sir. They’ve volunteered to house two viper squadrons while we’re away,” Jessika said pausing a moment, “While your away, sorry sir.”

“No need to apologize, Chief,” Major Miller smiled. The pair stood there for another awkquard moment before the Chief took a step foreward.

“So...um...”

“Yeah,” Miller offered awkwardly, “Um...look...” he said unable to look the chief in the eyes.

Instead he focused on the ceiling of the hanger deck. “All the years you fixed my Vipers kept them in the air...Thanks Chief. You ran one hell of a show here on Hanger Deck Three.”
Jessika took another step foreword and looked around to make sure none of the young enlisted kids over heard them and whispered to the XO, “Not planning to make it back.”

“We’ll be back,” Miller insisted.

“Cut the crap...”

Miller look down at the deck marking every last grease stain and pot mark in his mind before slowly shaking his head. “Belu’s already got it set in his mind. This is a one way trip. We’ll try and buy as much time as we can, but no guarantee.”

“You know about the back up coordinates?” Wilson asked.
Miller was surprised she knew as he lifted the paper from his pocket.

“Good. I’ll see you there, Major.”

“See you there, Chief.”


***Officer’s Quarters***

“So you leaving too Frills,” Slate asked her rank mate as Frills finished her last duffel bag.

“Yeah, I guess they want a couple of us Raptor jockeys to stay behind and escort the main strike group. Lucky me,” Frills said taking down her rack curtain that she had added a frilly lace to around the edges. The other six pilots had already packed their bags and shipped out to their new assignments in the fleet. “A lot of packing for a temporary assignment.”

“I don’t think it’s temporary,” Slate said dealing out cards to herself at the small table.

“You volunteered to stay behind, why?”

Slate shrugged, “Loren’s staying. Someone’s has to look out for him.”

“Is he really your brother-in-law?”

“Yep,” Slate sighed.

“I guess technically not anymore...I mean,” Frills gulped. “Sorry...it just all seems like it was so far away.”

“I know,” Slate said. “Still feels like a regular deployment and that in a few more weeks I’ll get off at Scorpion and see my family waiting at the docks. Jill and Vern will lock themselves in a room a frak for a week and we’ll be happy.”

“So, since he’s no...longer...”

“My sister and niece maybe dead, but he’s still family...in-law or not,” Slate offered. “At least the closest to real family we got left.”

“Fair enough,” Frills nodded. She could understand the feeling. The crew had come together in the last two weeks. Even before the was already a sense that the crew of a Battlestar was a kind of family, albeit a dysfunctional one. Frills slung the bags over her shoulder and headed for the door.

The CAG was standing in the open door.

“Oops,” Loren said stepping out the way. “After you Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Frills said in passing.

Major Vern “Stubby” Loren stepped into the now empty room. “Finally got your own quarters I see.”

“Guess so...” Slate replied looking around depressed at having to watch the rest of her bunkmates leave. They all knew what was being asked and chose to try and protect the civilians instead of participating in the suicide mission.

Loren shook his head, “You shouldn’t be here Kelly.”

“Now it’s Kelly,” Slate mocked.

“I’m here as your brother-in-law...I guess still...” Loren admitted. The two had talked a lot in the past few weeks, mainly trying to remember the good times.

“Close enough,” Slate said.

“If something happened to you, your sister would never forgive me. In this life or the next,” Loren said sitting down across from Slate.

“She’d never forgive me if I let something happen to you,” Slate returned. “So looks like we’re in this thing together.”

“I don’t know why no one thinks we’re coming back from this...”

“You saw the simulations. We lasted forty minutes tops before a dozen Baseships showed up and finished us off,” Slate said. “We all know this is a one way trip. If the Cylons destroy us, they may leave the civilians alone. After all we’re the only ship they know about.”
“What about the intel reports. They can’t account for five Battlestars,” Loren said trying to stay positive.

Slate dropped the cards on the table, “Doesn’t mean the survived, just means we can’t be for sure what happened to them. Even then, if they ran like we did, they could be anywhere. Do you have any idea what the odds are like that we’d run into another Battlestar that survived...”
Loren sucked in a deep breath and let it go slowly. “Well, pre-flight is in four hours.”

“I know,” Slate said. “I should get some rack time, but...”

“Neither can I,” Loren admitted. “So why don’t you dole out the cards.”

“Only if you want to lose,” Slate cocked her head.


***Brig***

“Today’s your luck day Major,” Major Miller told the former XO still locked up in the brig for attempted mutanty.

“What, the Old Man finally grow a set and decide to throw me out the airlock?” Major Grant replied bitterly.

Miller shook his head, “Come on, why are being like this...for two weeks all you’ve done is whine in here. Hell even Charmer got tired of listening to it.”

“The Old Man disobeyed a direct order. Under Colonial Fleet regulations I was right and proper to relieve the Commander of his command,” Grant protest.

“Yeah, yea, tell it to someone who gives a frak. What good would it have done us to have jumped to virgon or Ragnar?”

“What good has it done us to jump away with the civilians only to attempt a one way mission to try and save a few thousand refugees, which you and I both know aren’t going to last long out here,” Grant replied.

“You know, all you had to have said to the Commander was you were sorry...”

“But the thing is...I’m not. I know the Old Man liked to run a loose command, and I could tolerate it, but in war...no...”

Miller snarled at his slightly older counterpart, “Maybe your right. Maybe old man should have spaced you when he had the chance. But he didn’t. This is your last chance.”
Miller grabbed the keys and opened the cell door. “Last Raptor leaves in ten minutes. Here your frakking crap we packed now get the hell off this ship.”

“Your the XO,” Grant snapped back taking the bag and heading under Marine escort to the hanger deck.


Belu walked through the corridors, slowly, noting every detail of his ship. The Olympia was at a reduced strength with all the civilians placed on other ships and most of her flight crew transferred off ship along with a quarter of the fleet regulars transferred to the four Colonial Defenders. All the crew that stayed behind volunteered. The fact it was volunteer meant everyone knew it was a one way trip. A desperate attempt to buy time so the rest of the fleet, the rest of humanity could make a run for survival.

“All decks report at Condition One, Action stations manned and ready for Combat jump. Latest intel puts two Cylon Basestars at the target,” Miller showed the Commander on the main plotter.

“Somehow, I get the feeling they’ll be shooting back this time,” Miller said ominously.

“Last time we caught them with their pants down...this time they’ll be ready. Launch tube status?” Belu called over to the watch station.

Lt. Rhodes doubled checked and then slowly turned around, “All fighter launch tubes loaded and
hot.”

“Guns?”

Rhodes replied, “All batteries manned and ready to acquire targets on the other side, Sir.”

“Evac Raptor?”

“Standing by.”

“Nukes?”

“Four left and armed in their missile tubes,” Rhodes reported.

Belu took a moment as silence befell the CIC. He looked at each one of the frightened, young faces around him. “The fleet sent us out as cast offs, and rooks. No one would have given us a change, but your service these past few weeks has been beyond words. You’ve pulled off merciless and...” Belu took a moment to steady himself, “It’s been an honor.”

The swooshing of the dradis console was the only sound as the crew looked around at each other
trying to find the rock. Belu had lost the edge and the crew knew it. This was a one way trip. The Old Man had no intention of them living through this one.

Chief Kyle stepped foreword. “Sir,” he spoke up, “On behalf of the crew...” A tear began to form as his lip trembled.

Belu nodded and turned over to Rhodes, who was staring off with a glazed look over his face. “Mister Rhodes, start the clock.”

Rhodes took a moment to recover from the thoughts of his wife and kids he would be soon joining with the Gods. “Aye, sir. FTL, go!”

“Clock is running, sixty seconds,” the crewman offered. The crew tried to look busy triple and quadruple checking all their settings in the eternity it seemed to take the countdown to reach zero.
Space and time contracted as the ship jumped to its new point in space.

“Jump complete, bow batteries have first two salvos away at Basestar Sierra One,” Rhodes reported. “We have incoming ordinance, radiological alarms!”

Miller grabbed the nearest handset and flipped the 1MC, “Launch all fighters, repeat launch all fighters!” He gently replaced the handset as the first set of impacts against the hull almost sent him to the ground. It was the first time he had ever felt a weapons impact. With all the shaking and vibration he was surprised they were still in one piece. He looked around. The crew seemed to take in stride, busy watching their posts, and the Commander had loosened his knees to help absorb the sudden jolts as the ship was rocked by another impact.

“Two nuclear detonations, aft section, port sub-light down,” Miller reported looking at the damage control panel built into the main plotter at command and control. “Damage Control teams standing by.”

“Sir, Basestar Sierra One is moving off, they’re running, but still launching raiders. Sierra Two launching raiders and moving to our ventral side,” Rhodes reported.

“We don’t have any guns down there,” Belu remarked to himself. Indeed the Cylons were prepared this time and specifically to deal with this ship. They knew its weaknesses and were moving to exploit them. “Roll the ship, keep it in our Main and Primary firing arcs!”

“Maneuvering reports half of the starboard thrusters are not responding,” Chief Kyle said with the handset smug against his ear. “Damage Control says it will be several minutes to get those back online. Our roll rate is only a quarter degree per second!”

“They get us on our blind half, we won’t last long,” Belu remarked to this XO.
Miller fought the urge to run. He knew there was a Raptor standing by just for him, but he elected to stay at his post as long as possible.

“Three more Nuke dets to port. FTL one is down,” Rhodes reported. “FTL two is iffy.”

“Mister Kyle, tell the DC parties to concentrate on the FTL drives. They both go down and this thing is over.”

Slate sat back in the seat of her viper. “We’re going to see this through,” she said to her fighter as though it was a real living creature. “I know you are.”

“You really think that’s going to help?” Charmer’s voice said.

“What?” Slate said in to mic not realizing she had her comm key set to wingman. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem, but it’s a machine, not a pet,” Charmer quipped.

Slate looked over at the launch officer fielding her a long salute. Slate looked over and smiled with her reply as she assumed launch position. She exhaled just as the catapult kicked in flinging her viper out the side and towards the aft of the Olympia.

The first incoming conventional Clyon warheads were impacting against the hull as she counted to three in her head and then kicked in the RCS thrusters to form up with the rest of the four ship group she was commanding. “Watch your intervals,” she said to the three Cadets flying Vipers for the first time in combat. “Remember your training. Don’t fly in a straight line, vary your vectors and acceleration, and you’ll do fine.”

“Red Group, move to intercept incoming raiders from Sierra One. All other fighters, on my wing, prepare to engage the raiders from Sierra Two,” Loren told all his pilots. This was his second combat mission. The first one had used up what luck they might have had left. Deep inside he had a feeling this one would not be as kind.

Before the group could make formation, three vipers had been toasted by Cylon missiles. “Fraking, missiles, Jockey can’t you get us any support!” Loren yelled at the lone Raptor launched to provide electronic warfare support.

“Trying,” Jockey reported back, “Attempting to jam as many incoming warheads as we can, but that last nuke took out some our gear.”



***CIC***


“Sir, permission to launch nukes,” Rhodes requested.

“Not yet,” Belu ordered as the ship shook repeatedly. “Status FTL?”

Kyle looked over the DC board, “FTL one still down. Two keeps flickering.”

“Stay on that FTL drive,” Belu barked.

“Aye, sir, we have as many DC parties as we can working on it,” Kyle reported back.

“Sierra two just left the primary firing arc,” Miller said. “The Mains will only have solution for another twenty seconds.”

“Get on the wireless, tell our fighters to take up defensive positions along our belly,” Belu screeched.

Miller grabbed the handset, “Stubby, Aten, break engagement and redeploy to intercept incoming ordinance from Sierra Two.”


***Deep Space***


Stubby keyed the reply button, “Copy that, we’ll protect your gut. Blue Group, Green Group, break off and assume defensive positions around Olympia. Gold Group and Red Group, continue providing fighter screen.”

Another flash caught the corner of his eye. Another Viper incinerated by a cylon missile. This time the Basestar was launching every tube it had at the Colonials. He yawed around and lined up the shot and squeezed off a burst killing one raider and damaging a second as it flew past his cockpit just feet away.

He quickly followed the raider with his head uttering to himself, “That was a little too up close and personal.”


***CIC***

“Four...Five...Six...” Slate’s voice kept count of her kills over the speaker. “Line ‘em up and knock ‘em down,” She screamed in to her mic. “Seven....” And then static as the communications officer waited a few moments before switching to another frequency.

Miller took a moment to look up and try and locate her viper in the swarm, but it was gone. He let out a quick sigh before refocusing his attention on the damage reports. “Sir, the other Sub-light engine has a coolant leak. The back up system has kicked in, but the temperatures down there are getting close to the red.”

“Major, what’s the situation on the sublights?” Belu yelled over to damage control.

Miller shook his head, “I can’t get Markov on the line, Sir. Nobody seems to know what happened to him or DC party fifteen.” Miller was handed a series of reports from one of the crew woman. His eyes glanced over the reports, “Sir we have structural damage from that last nuke in sections aft of forty including explosive decompressions on decks seven and nineteen. Seven forty-two is Aft Damage control...”

Markov and his team were dead manning their station in Aft Damage control. Miller wondered silently to himself how many more standing around him would not see tomorrow.

“Sirs, we got Raiders baring down on the flight pods. Looks like they are making suicide runs!” Rhodes reported.

“Shut the blast doors!” Belu ordered.

“If we shut the blast doors we won’t be able to recover fighters,” Miller objected.

“Shut them now!” Belu glared at Rhodes.

“Yes, sir, shutting flight pod blast doors,” Rhodes replied slapping a few switches. “Radiological alarms on those Raiders.”

“They got nukes. They’ll get inside the flight pod and detonate them. The pressure causes the pods to pop like a bottle,” Belu remarked quietly to his new XO. It was a tactic the Cylons had used successfully in the first Cylon war. The secure flight pods was a feature added to the Olympia and her sister ships even though the trade off was the narrow landing slits.

“Landing bays secured, impact in five...four...three..two...one!” Rhodes counted down. The Olympia did not even shutter as the six Raiders impacted harmlessly against the hull. “No nuke dets. The raiders impacted against the blast doors.”

Miller was handed a quick update, “Reports of severe buckling in the bow side of the port landing bay. The blast doors are jammed shut.”

The ship shook again and quickly followed by a massive detonation that flung several crewmembers including the Commander to the ground hard. Miller hit the side of the plotter knocking the wind out of him as he collapsed to the ground.
The Marines and medical crew quickly responded, helping the commander back to his feet. He looked down as Miller gasped for breathe. “What the hell was that!” Belu shouted at Kyle.

“Secondary explosion, pylon four...” Chief Petty Officer Damon Kyle listened to the reports. “Sir, support strut four is reading hard vacuum.”

“Flight, have one of the vipers make a visual pass at the support strut,” Belu ordered.

“Sir, we’re taking a pounding,” Miller said brushing off the medical personnel, but still trying to catch his breathe. “We should go while we still have FTL.”
Belu looked up at the count up timer. “No, it’s only been eleven minutes. That’s not enough time.”

“Sirs, if we’re going to evacuate the port flight pod...” Kyle reminded the pair.

“No,” Belu growled, “Order those people to remain at their posts. Roll the ship, counter clockwise!”

“Counter clockwise, won’t that put the flight pod in the line of fire?” Miller objected.

“Also forces the Basestar into our primary firing arc,” Belu replied.

“Right,” Miller nodded. Not a move he agreed with, but he passed along the commands.

“What about our nukes?” Rhodes asked again.

“Prepare to launch nukes one and two on Sierra two,” Belu ordered. “Fire when ready. Set port secondary to staggered fire cycle deacon.”

Loren maneuvered his nose on to the kill slot of another raider and squeezed the trigger. The word “ammo” lit up read in his HUD. “Oh frak me,” Major Stubby Loren cried out as the Raider continued to close. A stream of red tracer rounds flew between his nose and the raider as the Cylon exploded in a short fireball with only small debris impacting against the side of his fighter.

“Fraking toasters,” Charmer called out to the CAG.

Stubby squinted and noticed the tail section of his viper was missing. “Thanks,” Stubby answered wondering why Charmer just now got his act together. Charmer was the second highest scoring ace in the first engagement just behind slate with eleven confirmed kills. Loren keyed to contact the Olympia, “Olympia, stubby, we’re running out of ammo, request immediate combat landings.”


***CIC***

“S-s-s-s-ir,” the Communications stuttered, “S-s-stuby reports nil ammo, requests permission to land.”

“Negative. They can stay out there and keep the Cylons occupied,” Belu commanded. The communications officer relayed the command to a reply from stubby that the Comm Officer not dare repeat to the Commander.

“Major Loren c-c-c-cop-copies the order,” Stuttering Stan replied.

“New dradis contacts!” Rhodes shouted. “Three...no strike that, five enemy baseships just jumped into the area.”

“FTL” Belu looked over at Kyle. The old salty chief shook his head. Belu closed his eyes and accepted their fate. He braced himself against the main plotter and looked down at the mini-damage control screen splitting the two halves of command and control. Most of the board was flashing red on both sides of the ship. He looked up at the sound of the pressure door slamming against the bulkhead. Major Miller had kept his work and made a mad dash for the Evac Raptor.

“Mister Rhodes, open the port aft blastdoor.”

“Port side aft?” Rhodes question.

“You heard me!”

“Yes, sir,” Rhodes said fining and flipping the switch.

“Take the XO’s post,” Belu instructed Rhodes.
Rhodes looked around, Miller was missing as though he had vanished. The Lieutenant did not even see him leave. Lt. Rhodes rose from his chair and made his way to Command and Control stumbling twice as the ship shook from near constant impacts. He took a quick assessment of the situation.

“We should be dead,” Lt. Rhodes remarked seeing the entire screen now covered in flashing red lights. Rhodes looked up to see the monochrome green symbols on the dradis screen. Two of the Cylon baseships had disappeared. The screen now showed a large box with the word Mercury underneath. The other Baseship signature had resolved into six smaller boxes with “D’s” in the center.

“Sir,” Rhodes offered with glimmer in his voice, “Two of those baseships have resolved colonial
ID’s. It’s the Battlestar Mercury and what appears to be six Colonial Defenders.”
Belu’s head instantly looked up as he tried to focus the screen with his bi-focals. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “Get me ship to ship!”

“Can’t, communications are fried,” Petty Officer Stan reported.

“Emergency channel!” Belu ordered.

Stan shook his head, “Everything’s gone sir.”

“Dradis just went off-line,” Rhodes reported.

Belu reached for the handset and flipped the 1MC, “All hands this is the Commander, move to evac stations, prepare to abandon ship, repeat move to evac stations and prepare to abandon ship. We have friendlies out there standing by to recover you. Good luck and the Gods’ grace.” The CIC crew looked at the Commander in shock. “Move people!”

The crewmen quickly dropped their headsets and rushed for the two exits trying to make it to the shuttles and escape pods. CIC emptied save for two Marines and Lt. Rhodes. “I thought I gave you an order, Lieutenant,” Belu grumbled. He already knew why Rhodes was standing firm at his post.

“Sir,” Rhodes said has his mouth went dry and he shook his head. “It’s been an honor.”

Belu looked up as the Marines stood at attention with their rifles across their chests and chins cocked proud. “The honors’ been all mine gentlemen.” The ship continued to shake from weapons impacts, but the time between impacts began to grow longer each time until they had almost stopped. Belu walked over to the weapons control panel and set the guns to automatic fire, cycle A.


***Port Flight Pod***

Miller sat in the back of the Raptor with the uneasy feeling of defeat in the pit of his stomach as the order to abandon ship came across their wireless feed. “Sir, should we wait?” the Raptor pilot asked Miller.

“No, we go and jump to these coordinates as soon as we are clear,” Miller handed the piece of paper to the Co-pilot. Miller looked up as the blast doors split apart something caught his eye. Bright yellow streaks belched from from the Mercury's bow cannons towards a cylon basestar.

“Where the hell did they come from?”

“I don’t know, sir,” the Pilot offered as she lifted off and out of the landing bay. A flight of sixteen fresh Mark Sevens flew over their cockpit to engage the Cylons.

“What ship is that?” Miller demanded.
The ECO punched up the recognition codes, “It’s the Mercury.”

“Old Man was right,” Miller muttered.

“Excuse me?” the ECO said.

“Nothing, Miller said grabbing a headset, get me ship to ship,” Miller ordered.


***CIC Mercury***

“Second Basestar destroyed, the others are running,” the Watch Officer informed the Commander. Mercury’s CIC was small with just a handful of officers needed to man the stations.

“Continue firing sequence and roll and get under the Olympia. Comm, have you gotten Olympia Actual yet?”

“No sir, I’ve been unable to get any signals, but she’s taken a lot of damage,” the Watch Officer replied as the ship shook for the first time. “In fact, she’s dead in the water, sir. Looks like both sub-lights are offline. I’m detecting shuttles and life boats launching.”

“Belu’s given the order to abandon ship,” Commander Castillo. “Launch SAR raptors, tell medical to stand by to receive causalities. Tell Kesta to continue pressing the enemy raiders and where the hell is the Pacifica.”

“Sir, the Cornel was reporting trouble with Pacifica’s FTL drives,” the Watch officer reminded the Commander.”

“Sir, we’re getting a request from a Major Loren requesting permission to land Olympia’s birds on
our decks. He reports they are out of ammo and at bingo fuel,” the Crewman at flight ops reported.

“Granted, tell the deck gang to prepare for emergency refit and scramble. Get as many of Olympia’s birds refueled, rearmed, and back into the fight as possible,” Commander Castillo ordered. She looked up at the dradis screen and took a brief moment to see how the overall battle was going.

“New dradis contact!” the Watch Officer shouted. “Pacifica...she’s off by seventeen hundred.”

“Well he said their FTL computer wasn’t going to be perfect,” Castillo reminded her CIC staff.

“Good, he’s engaging the remaining basestar. Turn the bow battery to assist. And Gods damn it someone get me a channel to Belu...I don’t care if you have to tie a string to a tin can!”

“Sir, I have the Olympia XO on the wireless. He’s aboard a Raptor that just launched,” the Watch Officer said.

“Put him through,” Castillo ordered grabbing a handset. The Watch Officer nodded. “This is Mercury Actual.”

“This is Major Miller, Olympia XO. Glad to see you,” Miller began.

“Have you been boarded?” Castillo demanded.

“Not to my knowledge, Sir,” Miller replied. “I was ordered to evac to a set of coordinates on a piece of paper the Commander handed me a few days ago. Said I’d find you there. Looks like you found us.”

“Actually we found your other task force. They told us where to find you. Is there Anyway to get to Belu?” Commander Castillo asked.

“Affirmative. We can turn around and I can go tell him,” Miller’s voice answered knowing the Old Man would be in CIC until his last breath. “We’ve taken one hell of a pounding. Both our FTL drives and sub-light are off-line.”

“Just get him on the line, Mercury out,” Castillo slammed the receiver back into its cradle. She looked up as two of the Defenders joined the Pacifica on the last remaining basestar. The others were taking escort positions around the Olympia encase she had been boarded.
The battle was over as the last remaining Raiders jumped away leaving the remaining Basestar to its fate at the guns of the Pacifica and Defenders bracketing the starfish like ship.

“Remaining Cylon ships destroyed, Commander,” the Watch officer shouted to a round of cheers in CIC.

“How bad is Olympia?” Castillo demanded.

“CAG, this is Mercury, request you make VID on Olympia’s condition,” the Flight Officer called over the wireless.

“Roger that,” Captain Kesta’s garbled voice said. About a minute later, Kesta’s still garbled voice responded, “I have VID on several fires and severe structural damage all over the ship. Looks like there have been at least a half dozen explosive decompressions along the port flight pod and one of the struts has a whole section blown out. Her guns still look relatively in tact, but her belly is pot marked from weapons impact. Looks like Mcken’s face.”

“Hey,” Lt. McKen retorted over the wireless. “Not like you don’t have some acne scars...”

“Gentlemen, another time please. Coordinate rescue efforts, get as many life boats recovered as we can,” Castillo ordered. “Spin up the FTL drives in case the Cylons show back up.”


***Olympia CIC***

Miller stormed into the empty CIC, “Your never going to guess who just showed up.”

“The Mercury,” Belu answered. “We saw her resolve just before we lost dradis.”

“Have you made wireless contact?”

“No,” Belu answered. “Wireless, for all practical purposes, has been destroyed.”

“What is the Mercury doing?”

“Currently involved in rescue operations. Our birds are landing there as we speak,” Miller answered.

“And I thought I ordered you...”

“Well I got another order from another Commander...I hope you all decide who gets to be Admiral, otherwise this is going to get confusing,” Miller joked.

Belu was not in the mood for humor at the moment. “How did they find us?”

“Apparently our other task force found them first...”

“At the other supply site,” Belu answered his own question.
Lt. Rhodes grabbed the handset and flipped the 1MC, “All hands to your stations, cancel abandon ship, repeat return to damage control stations.”

“You can’t cancel the order to abandon ship,” Belu snorted. “It’s against regs.”

“Tell Major Grant he can arrest me later,” Rhodes snapped back.
A squad of Marines stormed in from both sides of the CIC with guns drawn and ordering everyone to the floor. The two remaining Olympia Marine’s held their ground pointing their rifles in the faces of two of the raiding Marines.

“What the hell is this?” Belu barked.

“Stand down,” a familiar voice ordered as Commander Castillo walked into the CIC.

“Daphne,” Belu called out walking over to the one time XO of the ship. “Forgive me,” Belu said clutching his right wrist. “I think it’s broken.”

“We brought a raptor full of med techs and two more are on their way with engineering support teams to try and get your FTL drives fixed so we can get the hell out of here. The Cylons will be back to finish us off,” Commander Castillo offered.

“Then what the hell are you doing here? You know this ship is dead in the water. I just gave the order to abandon ship...”

“And we’re picking them up and flying ‘em back. We don’t have room for your crew on our ship, but I’m sure the Pacifica could use the extra man power,” Castillo said.

“Pacifica, I thought she was decommissioned,” Rhodes said.

“She was, about three months ago,” Miller recalled.

“Yes, but they hadn’t gotten too far along on the stripping process. She still had FTL and weapon systems when we found her,” Castillo answered. “Only the Cylons got there first. It’s a long story, I’ll explain later. The short version is that I have half my crew over there along with a thousand civilians that have no clue what they are doing.”

“That explains the missing Battlestar at the boneyard,” Belu said. “We conducted a survey mission there about a week ago. In fact we need...”

“Already got ‘em,” Castillo said. “We beat the Cylons to the Deacon outpost. Loaded about two years worth of supplies and enough tooling to make a small fleet of Mark One Vipers.”

“Did you say mark one? I thought the cheat sheets said Mark Twos?” Miller recalled.

“Ours said the same thing...but when we got there, they were the dies for the Mark Ones. Lucky for you we found a couple engineers on board a sub light civilian transport. They are already busy working out how to make a Mark One out perform a Mark Seven,” Castillo said. “Now let’s get that wrist looked at.”