OBT Forum

  Wonder what Colonel Tigh will say?  lol

Lee rapped on the hatch to his father’s quarters on Galactica.  He had a feeling that he already knew what this was going to be about—scuttlebutt had spread the story of the fight between Starbuck and Sidewinder over to Pegasus within a half-hour of the incident—and Kara was laid up with her knee dislocated again.  In fact, he and Kendra Shaw and Cole Taylor had been going over personnel to assign to this mission—possibly to take command of the mission—when the call from the Admiral had come to shuttle over for a personal meeting.

“Come,” his father’s voice was muted through the door, but Lee opened the hatch and walked in—and he smiled as he saw that Laura Roslin was already sitting down opposite his father’s desk.

“You wanted to see me, Admiral?” he reported, and then he nodded to Laura.  “Madame President.”

“Take a seat, Lee,” the Admiral said.  “You’ve heard about the frack-up on the hanger deck?”

Lee nodded.  “Sounds like the old Kara came out,” he answered.

Bill snorted.  “She won’t be flying for a while—and that leaves me with a problem.  I need someone to lead the mission.  Sidewinder is going—so is his EWO—but frankly, I’m pissed at him for letting this escalate and I want one of my people in charge.”

“Helo?”

“I’m appointing him CAG, giving Kara a chance to heal up and cool off.  He’d fly it, but right now he’s trying to calm down the pilots who want to ‘avenge’ Starbuck,” Adama said sourly.

“Oh Lords,” Lee whispered.  “Let me guess?  Kat?  Hotdog?  Racetrack?  I can’t see Duck getting involved—but to the newer pilots, Kara is queen of the hill.”

“I’ve got Helo and Saul,” and Laura pursed her lips at the name of the Colonel, “both working on getting them sorted out—there won’t be any ‘accidents’ on Galactica.  And the pilots have been told I am going to come down like the hand of the Gods if one more person starts something.”

Lee nodded and he looked at the President.  She hadn’t breathed a word about the Hidden Five as he and his father had dubbed the Cylons that weren’t aware they were Cylons.  But she had assigned Tory Foster as Gaius Baltar’s chief of staff—ostensibly to make sure he didn’t pull any dirty tricks in the election, but actually to get her off of Colonial One.  Her new aide, Maya, wasn’t as sharp politically as Tory was, but Laura had insisted to her old aide that she needed her to watch over Gaius.

It was a lie, of course.  The truth of the matter was that Laura simply could not ignore that Tory was a Cylon—but to keep the secret she had found a way to get the woman away from her.  A way that made sense, after a fashion.

“I thought that may be why you wanted to see me.  How about George?”

“Catman?  You want me to put Captain George Birch as the command pilot on this mission when he can’t even conduct in-flight refueling without fracking up?” Adama asked.

“He wasn’t qualified for CAG when I . . .,” and Lee winced, “staged my mutiny to support the President, Admiral.  You put a lot of pressure on him—but he’s a good pilot.”

“That may be, Lee,” said Laura, “but there is another factor we need to consider, which is why I asked your father to bring you across.  We have to consider the . . . politics of the situation—military politics as well as civilian.  Certainly the force we send to make contact with this Commander Lorne must represent us at our best—that is why I want you to command the mission.”

Lee blinked, and then his face contorted into a shock and surprised look.  “I am the commanding officer of Pegasus, Madame President. I have responsibilities.”

“You do—to the Fleet as well as your ship, Lee,” she said and looked at his father, who sighed.

“Major Shaw should be able to handle Pegasus in your absence, Lee.  And from what little Saul and I know of Mathias Lorne, you will be a far more convincing ambassador than Kara Thrace—or Karl Agathon.  I am promoting Felix Gaeta to Captain—he’s past due for promotion anyway—and will assign him to Pegasus temporarily as Shaw’s second,” the Admiral said as he looked at his son.  “And when this mission returns with Scorpia and her ships in tow, I have to be certain that the person leading my pilots will tell me everything I, and the President, need to know about that ship and her crew.  I can trust you, Lee—far more than I will ever trust George Birch.  Besides, you are far more likely to get their people to open up than George or Kara.  You are our best face, as the President put it, and I am asking you—not ordering you—to do this.”

Lee exhaled and he sat back in his chair.  “I need to get with Kendra and Cole then—and Felix—and get them up to speed.  And then, I probably need to look over the mission plan,” he snorted.  “Knowing Starbuck, it is drawn up on cocktail napkins.”

The Admiral chuckled.  “She’s in the surgery—Sidewinder is in his berth.  Lee, you know how important this is—good hunting,” he said as he stood.

Lee stood as well.  “Madame President, Admiral.  When do we depart?”

“Twenty-four hours, so get things squared away, son.”

“Can do,” he said and he nodded again, walked to the hatch, and into the corridor.  And he exhaled again.  Right, he thought, time to get to work.

She stared and Bill and he nodded.

2 Minor hick-ups 1st post Adama and Starbuck in the sickbay should be "at Bill" I believe

last post

he knew ever ship

"every" ship

otherwise gold enjoyed it

It also does make sense having a Commander meeting a Commander instead of a Captain, nice way to sideline Starbuck

Sam Caldwell and Mark Foeswan came to their feet as Mathias entered the small conference room—he waved both of them, and the other ship commanders, as well as Lieutenant Shiro Gian, back down.  “Good morning,” he said to them all as he sat down.

“Mister Namer, I understand that your people are having problems with laundry?” he began.

“Yes, Commander,” the former terrorist said.  “A lot of my folks on Leonis Pryde had just what they were wearing when they boarded ship—maybe one or two spare garments.  I’m sure the other ships are seeing the same things,” he said and the commanders of Bounty, Scylla, and Umino Hana nodded their agreement, “and none of our ships were ever intended as long-duration personnel vessels.  Our laundry facilities are sorely lacking.”

“Bounty doesn’t even washing or drying facilities fitted,” said Lieutenant Olin Kirk, formerly assigned to Cerberus Anchorage.

“Colonel Foeswan?” Mathias asked and the stout officer nodded as he scrolled through a computer pad with a manifest of the supplies on his ship. 

And then he nodded.  “I have a two-ton cargo container with Fleet undress jumpsuits—unmarked.  All sizes, I’ll get my crew to crack her open and get them distributed, Sir.”

“Underwear and socks would nice as well, Colonel,” Namer drawled in that slow Saggitaron accent, and several of the people at the table chuckled at that.

“There should be one pair of each—at least—for every jumpsuit.  The civvies might hate the color and the style, but they are warm and clean,” Foeswan said.

“Sir,” Shiro said from the foot of the table.  “We took six hundred-weight of cloth bolts off of Typhon—I have no clue what they were doing there, but its good quality stuff, if we’ve got people who know how to sew.”

“Thank you, Mister Gian,” said Mathias with a smile.  “I trust you gentlemen and ladies will pass the word on your ships for seamstresses and tailors—I’ll be glad to release the cloth on an as-needed basis, once you find someone who is able to make it into clothing.”

He paused and smiled.  “And yes, having a laundry is absolutely essential to keeping good hygiene and good morale—and we will do both on these ships.  Mister Gian, how many laundry bags do we have in storage?  The same question goes for you Colonel Foeswan?”

Both men queried their tablets and then nodded, Shiro gesturing for the senior officer to go first.  “Fifty-five hundred, plus the ones assigned to the crew,” he said.

“Eighteen hundred, sir—other than the ones already assigned to the crew.”

“Good.  Gentlemen, I want those broken out from storage and two assigned to every civilian in the flotilla.  I want their names and ship assignments stenciled on them—I understand if that might take a while, but it is going to be done.  We do have sufficient stencils and ink available, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Shiro as Mark just nodded with a smile. 

“Captains, you will be responsible for getting the clothing and laundry bags handed out.  Aurora and Scorpia has industrial laundry facilities on board.  Every day, from this point on, Raptors will dock with your ships and pick up one laundry bag from each individual on your ships—these will be taken to either Aurora or Scorpia and processed for cleaning.  On the fourth day, the Raptor will return the clean clothes and pick up the next bag.  Our laundries are designed for high volume—will that correct the problem?”

“Absolutely,” Jon Namer answered.

“Now, the second part,” said Mathias.  “I know some of your ships do not have adequate sanitation systems.  When my engineers and those on Aurora finish the repairs on Scorpia, we will install those systems on your ships—showers, heads, wash-sinks, the whole nine yards.  There will no excuse for having improper sanitation in this flotilla, ladies and gentlemen, and will not allow our vessels to become a breeding ground for disease—or lice.  I understand a problem with lice has broken out on Umino Hana, Captain Shane?” Mathias asked in an icy tone.

The officer from Cerberus looked ashamed and he nodded as the two officers sitting next to him slid their chairs away from him slightly.  “The survivors from Canceron apparently brought the little devils aboard—most of the rest of my folks are from Aerilon and they are simply furious.  But once we get the showers up and running and get the clothing and bedding sterilized, the problem should be done with, Sir.”

“See that it is, Captain.  You will have whatever your need from Aurora or Scorpia, just get it done.”

“Medical,” Mathias said, moving along to the next topic.  “I understand you have a woman on Leonis Pryde that is overdue for delivery, Mister Namer?”

“Yes, Commander,” Jon answered.  “And I have two midwives, but no certified doctors.  About three-quarters of my folk are from Saggitaron, so the lack of a doctor isn’t normally a problem—but she’s three weeks past due, Sir.”

Mathias made a note.  “I’ll have Doctor Bako join you on the flight back—we might want to go ahead and take her aboard Scorpia for care; if she isn’t one of yours, that is?”

“No, she’s one of the civilians we picked up—from Caprica, actually.  Not with the resistance groups, just with a small band of survivors that we located,” said Jon.  “She says the baby’s father—her fiancée—is Fleet,” and Mathias winced but he nodded, “and I figure I’ll let you have that conversation, Commander Lorne.”

“Food?  Water?” Mathias continued.  Everyone made agreeable noises and he smiled.  That had been his first priority—people without water tended to panic, and panicky people tended to do very stupid things.  “I expect to be informed immediately if you have problems with your food or water supplies, people.  This is something we cannot frack up.  Clear?”

“Clear,” answered a half-dozen voices.

“I know Bounty is approaching the need for refueling—is anyone else below 30% tankage?”

Everyone shook their head.  Mathias nodded and he turned to face Lieutenant Kirk.  “Your vessel, Lieutenant, has the smallest fuel and water tanks, so I expect to have to top you off pretty often—or Colonel Foeswan will do so.”

“Actually, Sir,” Lieutenant Kirk said, “I have an idea about that.  Our biggest expenditure of tylium is when we active the FTL.  Bounty is small enough that unless it is an emergency jump, she can land on your flight deck and ride along with you.  Or Aurora.  That would extend our fuel tankage by . . . a third?  Sir.”

“Closer to forty percent,” mused Colonel Foeswan.  “Why didn’t we think of that?” he asked himself aloud, and then he shook his head.

“Because we are not used to saving such small quantities, Colonel,” Mathias answered.  “Excellent suggestion, Lieutenant.  Get with the Colonel and we will set up a rotating plan for scheduled jumps.”

“Last thing on the list for today is engineering gripes—Major Church has received them, gentlemen, ladies, but Scorpia’s repairs take priority.  We will get to them, the vast majority are minor, and not life-threatening, but we will get them taken care of.  That is a promise.  Captain Hilden,” he said to the officer assigned to Scylla, “your DRADIS being off-line is NOT a minor problem.  There should be an engineering team over there as we speak getting it functional again.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Mathias continued.  “That should have never been on the gripe sheet because you should have let me know the moment you lost that system.  Without it, how are you managing to avoid a collision?”

The young man blushed.  “I posted lookouts, Sir.”

And across the table there sudden intakes of breath as the more senior officers—and Jon Namer—stared at the young man in horror.

“Lookouts?  People looking out the portholes?”, Mathias sighed. “Do not fail to inform me of such a system failure again, Captain,” he warned.

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

Mathias stood.  “My schedule today is tight—but our jobs require that we keep these people filled with hope.  I will leave you with this thought that I learned back on board Columbia as brand-new J.G. just out of Flight School, gentlemen, ladies.  My first division chief told me that ‘A proud ship is not a grungy ship’.  And he was absolutely right.  Your people have time and they have elbow grease—so I want your ships kept clean and fit to live in.  It will give them something to do and it will lift their morale.  Believe it or not, it will.  If you need cleaning agents—get with Shiro or Mark.  They’ve got plenty.  But I want the ships cleaned—stem to stern, dorsal to ventral, and everything in between.”

Mathias waited and then he nodded.  “Dismissed, ladies and gentlemen.  Sam, you and Jon walk with me to the surgery on my way to engineering and I will see to it that Lindsey grabs her medical bag and gets over to the Pryde pronto.”

I am not a fan of the "New BG" but I have to admit I am enjoying this story. If the "New BG" had been written by Masterarminas I might have actually watched more than 15 mins.

I knew it Lee's flame from Caprica! As soon as you mentioned her in he previous post nice way to mix up that relationship

Mathias strode into CIC trailed by Colonel Jayne.  “Status!” he snapped as he walked across to the central console, glancing up at the DRADIS display which showed ten icons at the very limit of detection range—unmoving icons.

“Multiple unknown contacts have made an FTL jump into this system, Commander,” Major Tyche reported.  “I’ve ordered all ships to spin up FTL for a jump to the emergency coordinates—contacts have not made any aggressive moves.  No sign of Raiders—so far.”

“Rambler has CAP?” he asked Hope, who nodded affirmative.

The Commander picked up the phone.  “Rambler, Scorpia Actual.  What do you have?”

“Scorpia Actual, Rambler,” the wireless broadcast.  “No jamming, no fighter launches, they aren’t moving,” he paused, “request permission to perform a fly-by.”

By which he meant a visual-range fly-by, Mathias thought.  “Negative, Rambler.  Hold the CAP at the inner perimeter for now—I might need you to make a combat landing.”

“Copy, Scorpia Actual.”

“Flight?”

“Twelve fighters in the tubes or on plus two,” Hope reported.  “Arclight has two Raptors on the flight deck, ready to go.”

“Order him to launch, Digger.  If we have to bug-out, the Raptors have our coordinates and we don’t have to wait on them.”

“Flight, CIC, launch the ready Raptors for visual-range pass,” she repeated.

“Captain Danis, hail them—all frequencies.”

“Commander,” Major Tyche reported, “all ships report FTL on-line and ready to jump.”

“Get them moving, Major.  Inform Colonel Foeswan that Scorpia will remain behind—he is in command until our arrival.”

“Sir,” Joan Danis said from her console, and her voice was almost breathless, “I am getting a response—and Colonial transponders.”

“Confirm!” snapped Jayne and he left the central console to look over her readings.  She looked up at Tom and nodded and then at Mathias.  “Confirmed, Commander.  They are broadcasting Colonial transponder codes.”

Mathias switched the wireless to the live circuit which Danis had transferred to him.  “Unknown vessels, this is the Battlestar Scorpia—identify yourselves immediately or you will be fired upon.”

At first, only static emerged from the speaker; and then it crackled to life and a familiar voice emerged.  “Scorpia, Sidewinder,” the speakers broadcast, “are we happy to see you.”

“Sidewinder, Scorpia Actual,” Mathias said into the stunned silence of the CIC.  “Authenticate challenge Delta Tau Sigma Two Three Seven.”

Danis nodded even before Jayne snapped his fingers and she opened the challenge book and scrolled down with her finger and laid a straight edge to underline the proper response.

“Scorpia Actual, Sidewinder.  Authenticated response is . . . Gold Seven One Four.  Repeat, Gold Seven One Four.”

Danis nodded and she smiled; and then Jayne also nodded.  Mathias lifted the phone again.  “Sidewinder, Scorpia Actual; we confirm your response—hold your current position for a visual fly-by and confirmation.”

“Understood, Scorpia Actual.  Will hold position awaiting visual fly-by.”

He looked at Hope and she nodded.  “Rambler, Scorpia,” she broadcast.  “Confirm with visual range fly-by—Raptors inbound for support.”

“Copy, Scorpia,” the CAG answered.

The seconds ticked off of the clock and then the wireless crackled again.  “Scorpia, Rambler.  Confirm ten Raptors, say again, ten Raptors—markings and shields indicate Battlestars Galactica and Pegasus, Scorpia.”

And a tremendous shout went up throughout CIC.  “Sidewinder, Scorpia Actual,” Mathias broadcast as he felt a tremendous weight lift away from his shoulders.  “Welcome home.  And bring in your friends for landing.  Rambler will escort.”

He racked the phone, and as Tom Jayne walked back over to the center torso the two men grabbed each other’s forearms and clapped each other on the shoulder.

“Tom,” he said, “I want Marines in the hanger bays just in case.  If they are who they say they are, I want a Raptor on standby to let the rest of the flotilla know.  We will jump when they have been recovered—and their identities confirmed, not before.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.  You want to meet them on the hanger deck?”

“I think I do, Colonel,” Mathias replied.

“Aye, aye, Sir.  I have the conn,” the XO said as he raised the phone and punched in the Marine barracks.

****************************************************

Onboard Raptor 716, Lee Adama turned to face his command pilot, and through the visor of the helmet that he wore, Sidewinder could see the broad grin on his face.  “You know, Kara is never going to let you forget that it was her initial plot that allowed you to make contact on Jump Eight—before we started the search pattern and without needing one drop of that spare tylium.”

“Thanks for reminding me about that,” said Sidewinder in an aggrieved tone.  “But you know what, Apollo?”

“What?”

“On this particular occasion, I won’t object if she wants to mock me.  I’m actually quite happy that we didn’t need that fuel after all.”

“Oh, she’ll mock you.  From now until she enters Perdition’s flames, she’ll mock you—and she will never let you forget this.”

“Thank the gods, I’m stationed on a different Battlestar,” Sidewinder said.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you a question that Colonel Tigh wanted me to broach.  Would you be willing to consider a trans-. . .,” Lee smiled as Sidewinder cut him off.

“No.  No.  Really, but no.”

“Figured, but I had to ask,” laughed Lee.  And he sat back in the seat.  “The Gods on Mount Olympus, is that a . . .,”

“Mark VI?  That’s what we had when we left the colonies two years ago, Apollo.”

“Those are sweet birds, I kind of miss them.”

Sidewinder checked the cabin pressure, and he removed his helmet as Rambler settled down on his wing, and the CAG gave him a thumbs up.  He then put his helmet back on, just in time to hear the wireless broadcast.

“Sidewinder, Scorpia.  You are cleared for approach and landing on the starboard flight pod; Rambler will escort.”

“Copy Scorpia,” he broadcast, and then he changed channels.  “All Raptors, this is Sidewinder.  Follow me in—don’t make them shoot at you, people.  It would really suck losing someone this late in the game.”