OBT Forum

OK, nice twist.

Life has intruded, but the next update will be up tomorrow.

MA

I refer you to my earlier post and see you are not towing the line. Must I take matters into my own hands again?

Seriously...

Episode 5:  Under a Red Sky

Hope lay back in her bunk, her eyes closed, her breathing slowing down as she panted with the dim illumination dancing off of her sweat-soaked skin—as a squadron commander, she had been assigned one of the small (but private) sleeping compartments aboard Scorpia.  But it was private no more.  With the press of the refugees upon the internal spaces of the Battlestar—on all of the ships of the small fleet—she had offered to share her space with one of the scientists that had spent the past two years aboard ship.

Rambler hadn’t said a word when she broached the subject, he just nodded and by the end of the day it was done. 

She opened her eyes as a shadow crossed over her, and she felt the light touch of her lover’s hair—and then the soft, warm lips.  She put her arms around the figure and pulled her down on top of her, holding her close.  “Don’t you ever get tired?” Hope asked.

“Not with you,” purred Doctor Irina Toure as she nibbled at Hope’s ear.  Hope pulled away and she sat up—Irinia made a moue appear on her face.  “You don’t like that?  I can think of other things to nibble on?” she asked, tracing a line along Hope’s bare thigh.

“No,” she whispered.  “It’s not that.”

“Then what?  What’s wrong?” asked Irina as she sat up on one elbow. 

Hope licked her lips and she drew in a deep breath—then she slid open the drawer on the extruded metal table next to the small bed and she pulled something out.  “Irina,” she said, with a quaver in her voice, as she pressed the single gold band into her lover’s hands.  “Will you marry me?”

The dusky-skinned Aerilon scientist blinked—and then Hope’s heart soared as she began to grin wildly.  “I thought you were afraid of what your family would think?” Irina asked.  “For natives of Scorpia, they seemed rather prudish from your descriptions.”

A tear, mixed from joy and sorrow, traced its way down Hope’s cheek.  “They are gone—and I ‘m out there every day—every day I might not come back,” she cried, and Irina sat up and held her tight.  “I don’t want us to be apart one more day,” Hope muttered through the tears. 

“We won’t,” Irina whispered as she hushed and hugged and held the pilot in her arms, unshed tears in her own eyes.  She held Hope at arms length and she nodded.  “I do.  I will take you to be my wife,” she said with a quiver in her voice, and Hope smiled and jumped—jumped into her arms and kissed her deeply again, sliding the ring onto her finger.

“When can we have the ceremony?” Irina asked when they came up for air.

“I’ll ask the Commander tonight, when I go on dut-. . .,” but her words were cut off as a klaxon began to wail.  “This is the XO! Sound General Quarters throughout the ship. Set Condition One in all compartments!  This is not a drill!”

Hope rolled out of the bed, grabbing her underwear on the floor and sliding it up over her hips.  She pulled on a one-piece cooling garment and then slid into her flight suit.  “BOOTS!  Grab my boots,” she yelled as she yanked the thick heavy garment on and squeezed her shoulders inside.

Irina held out the boots and Hope stepped into them, seating her heel as she grab her gloves, her helmet, and her sidearm belt from the locker.

“Gotta go, love,” she said, as Irina stood, pulling up the zipper so that Hope’s barely covered bust didn’t hang out.

“I’m here when you get back,” the scientist said—and the two had a brief kiss before Hope bolted into the corridor,and Irina stood there, watching out the hatch as Hope ran off; she shut the hatch, crawled back into the bed and began to sob..

Reminiscent of the end of the mini series good show

For those unaware, this is the Berzerk-class, which I have reflagged as the Bezrek-class for this story.  Images are in the post.

The Hunted

She's a bit longer than Scorpia (842 meters), but far lighter, less heavily armored, and with fewer (a LOT fewer) guns; two nose guns comparable to those aboard Pegasus, ten twin heavy KEW turrets, ten twin fixed light KEW turrets, and point defense.  No missiles.  She's primarily a support ship with a core crew of just 600 officers and men, including 43 Marines and 52 flight crew (20 Vipers, 10 Raptors, and 4 Shuttles).  But she has a LOT of cargo space and fuel tankage; she serves (in this AU) as a Fleet replenishment vessel that isn't quite so vulnerable as such ships are today.  This one can fight back.  For a little while.

MA

Mathias swore as he racked the phone.  And then he sighed.  He lifted the phone again.  “Brig, CIC.”

“Go, CIC,” came the answer.

“Put Brother Cavil on the line,” Mathias ordered.

Tom jerked and he stared at his Commander.  “Sir?” he whispered.

“Yes, Commander—I take it that you have a question for me?”

Mathias closed his eyes.  “What is the access code to trigger the backdoor in the CNP program?”

Cavil laughed.  “Commander, that isn’t something I can just tell you—it is machine language.  Cylon language.  You couldn’t use it if I did inform you.”

“Can you broadcast it?” Mathias asked as Tom just stared with wide eyes.

“I can, but not from here.  Why do you need it transmitted?  Your ships don’t have the system updates?”

“No, but there are others here who might; others who are attempting to destroy this ship and everyone on it—including you.”

“Ah.  But I will just down-load, Commander.”

“Perhaps not—we are in a system generating Ragnar-like radiation; you do know what that means?”

Cavil was silent.  “I will need a transmitter—a direct connection into the comm system by fiber-optic cable.”

“Done,” Mathias said as he racked the phone.  “Get him what he needs, Colonel Jayne—Captain Danis, activate full internal firewalls—he is to have access ONLY to communications.  Physically take long-range comm off-line.”

Tom started to argue, but Mathias snarled.  “It’s either this or kill them all, Colonel!  MOVE!”

For a moment Mathias was afraid that Tom wasn’t going to obey the order, but then he nodded and jogged out of CIC.

“Rambler, Scorpia Actual—we may have a way to stop this attack without killing everyone.  Run interference, disrupt their attack as best you can, but do not fire for effect without my direct order.”

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

“Copy that, Scorpia Actual,” Rambler said.  “Frack,” he whispered.  “All pilots, listen up.  We are not, repeat NOT to engage these guys.  Command wants us to mess up their attack run however, but warning shots only.  Make them deviate from course.”

Expressions of disbelief and a few swear words filled up the tactical channels, and Rambler snarled.  “Clear the air, pilots!  You have your orders.”

How the frack we are going to do that is beyond me, he thought as his Vipers broke hard as they entered the weapons envelope of the oncoming strike—flying Mark VIIs!—and his opponents began to spit gun-fire.  Whatever you doing, Commander, make it fast, he thought as he jinked to avoid a burst.

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

“All batteries hold fire!” barked Sam.  “Range to the Aurora?”

“She’ll be in gun-range in forty-five seconds . . . MARK . . . presuming her acceleration stays constant,” the tech answered.

Mat, I hope to the Hells you know what you are doing, she thought.

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

Daniel and Anders watched as Cavil was pulled out of his cell and then the hatch slammed open and Tom entered with two technicians and a loop of fiber-optic cable.  The techs removed an armor plate from the wall and hooked one end of the cable into a comm line; the second Tom offered to the Cylon.

And then Tom pulled his sidearm, chambered a round, and place it against the side of Cavil’s forehead.  “Here, in this system, if you die, you die forever.  Frack with us, and you will be in Hell before me,” Tom said.

“There is no Hell but what we make,” said Cavil.  “I need a knife.”

Tom nodded at the Marines, who gave the Cylon a short—but razor-sharp—knife.

“What are you doing, John?” Daniel asked.

“Saving our collective asses, Father Daniel,” the Cylon answered as he sliced his arm and inserted the cable, dropping the knife on the floor in the process.

Tom frowned—the Cylon was bleeding.  “Call a corpsman to the brig,” he ordered the Marines, and Cavil chuckled.

“Threaten to kill me one moment and then concerned for my well-being the next.”

“I’m only human,” Tom said.

“You say that like it is a good thing,” Cavil continued to insert the cable and then he stopped and jerked.  “Interface connection made . . . short-range comm unit open . . . broadcasting shut-down commands,” his eyes glazed over and he swayed slightly.

Tom grabbed the phone in his free hand.  “CIC, Brig.  Cavil is transmitting now.”

“We confirm, Brig.”

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

“Range to Aurora?” Mathias asked. 

 â€œShe will enter gun-range in ten seconds . . . MARK,” replied Marius.

“The Air Wing?”

“Haven’t lost anyone yet, Sir—but there have been some close calls.  Those pilots are not pressing the attack as hard as they should be,” Marius said and he gave a crooked grin.  “Maybe some of them don’t want to be attacking a Battlestar anymore than we want to destroy that ship.”

Mathias ignored the comment and he kept his gaze focused on the DRADIS display.  Come on, he thought.  If they don’t power down . . . he sighed.  “Captain Cook, look all batteries on Aurora and prepare to open fire on my com-. . .,”

“SCORPIA, Rambler!” screamed a static filled voice from the intercom.  “All hostile Vipers have lost power and are drifting!”

The Commander grabbed the phone.  “Rambler, Scorpia Actual.  Aurora?”

“Tumbling out of control, Sir.”

Mathias grinned.  “CIC to Captain Aisne.”

“Go, CIC,” the Marine commander immediately answered.

“I want a boarding party to take Aurora before she can restore her systems—non-lethal weapons where possible; I’ll understand if it is not.  Take her, Liam.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

“Sidewinder, Scorpia Actual,” he continued.

“Go, Scorpia Actual.”

“I want your Raptors to tow those disabled vipers into the port flight pod—don’t ding them or the pilots too badly.”

“On our way, Actual.”

“Captain Danis, raise that station—I want to have a talk to the imbecile that just tried to get Colonial officers and crew killed for no good reason.  A long talk.”