Chapter 11: Send in the Marines
Posted: Sun Jul 18, 2021 9:47 pm
The link up with hauler 3 commenced without a problem and the two pilots were happy to let someone else drive for a little bit. It gave them some time to relax and figure out how they were going to explain everything to the admiral. Max had commented they were early, and assumed that meant the mission was a success. He didn’t know how to comprehend the major’s statement that the mission parameters have changed and were therefore being extended. However, he shrugged it off because it wasn’t his problem. The Admiral and Colonel were present as the ship came into the landing bay. Their faces were perplexed as Forester asked for help getting the piece of computer panel out of the raider. Being told it was the navigational information left Bridgeford saying that this was going to be one interesting report.
Cupcake then emerged and Hallis immediately noted they were 1 man short. “Yes sir, Lapointe remained aboard the enemy ship. The parameters have changed and I’ve extended the mission. I left him behind and in control of the enemy base.” In unison the two men folded their arms and waited for her to continue. This accidental synchronized act had an unsettling effect on Assuras. “We more or less accomplished our objectives. We know where we are, destroyed the communications, Mr. Lapointe has control of the basestar’s flight systems and we can gather enemy data by taking apart the base.” The two command officers looked at her wide-eyed and everyone was motioned toward the Admiral’s office for debriefing.
“Sir, discretionary power was given to us. I made a command decision because it made sense. Once we had a copy the navigational data, I could no longer argue the logic.” No one was arguing with major Assuras, but she was still unsettled because her two mission companions were extremely silent. “Sir, the cylons have fuel, ammo and a ton of other things we need. After the marines do some house cleaning, the ship is ours.”
Hallis sat at his desk and shook his head to say no, but responded that it was a great idea. Assuras was suddenly relieved as the admiral told her and Bridgeford they had 2 hours to workout a profile. “Even if the toasters are off, I wouldn’t want to be left alone and surrounded by them.”
It was hard to keep anything on the Argus compartmentalized. Although it was relatively easy to keep exact details secret, preventing everyone from knowing when and what was going to happen was impossible. The moment the computer panel with the flight data was handed to Reeves in CIC Everyone suspected they would be returning to the basestar. After all, it was a piece of scratched tin and not a laptop computer. Consequently when Assuras and Bridgeford left the debriefing, the captain found himself again having to remind everyone. “Need to know basis people!”
The major and the colonel sat at table trying to work out the details for the second stage of Operation Cain. “Counting what was already on the Poseidon, I have two groups of marines and I want all of them for the mission.” Assuras looked at him noting that it was more than a raptor could hold. “Back in my day we had shuttles and a couple of those would have done the trick.” The major looked at him and said that she didn’t feel comfortable putting that many of our advanced technical planes in an enemy strong hold, not to mention the large amount of fuel that many would require. “I would rather just use one or two. Set up a command center from the first and maybe have the second in the air jamming all signals.” Although extremely slow in comparison, a single hauler could carry everyone with equipment and have lots of room to spare. But the rear of a hauler wasn’t pressurized and suits would run out of air long before arriving at the destination and there probably weren’t enough oxygen bottles aboard to make it feasible.
Bridgeford pondered for a moment and then asked Assuras to grab them some sludge-gumbo, that he would be back in 20 minutes. He was heading down to the port flight deck to discuss the problem with knuckle grinder to two.
The noise from the processing of the ice fragments and various other mechanical endeavours was deafening and the colonel had to yell in order to be heard. He stood talking to two, a machinist and female wielder. “So you want to use a hauler as a troop carrier?” The woman had asked and wondered why they couldn’t just use raptors or suits if they really had their heart set on using heavy equipment.
Bridgeford rubbed his face hoping this wasn’t going to be a difficult conversation. The male looked at his co-worker then commented, “Got too many men to carry and too far to go, huh Colonel? Not a problem. It’s just a question of a few wields, some seals and an O2 scrubber. However, it won’t be heated. But you can still use suits just to keep warm. We could run a couple of power couplings from the engine into the back everyone can plug into.” The machinist further explained that there were no vital manufacturing operations currently underway, so he could pull some men from their jobs and get it done in about 15 hours. The old marine smugly smirked; this was the kind of answer he was hoping for.
Assuras and Bridgeford had their plan of action and met with the admiral again. It was relatively simple in design. A squadron of vipers, two raptors and a modified hauler would be dispatched to the basestar. One raptor would remain outside of base in order to jam all and any signals. The second would enter; land and a small group of marines would vacate and secure the landing bay. This would give the other marines time to remove their suits and file out after the hauler landed. They would then proceed directly toward Lapointe, securing the pathway as they went.
Upon arrival, one group of marines works the upper saucer and the second group goes downstairs. Hallis interrupted and wanted confirmation of what he already knew, “The vipers are to destroy the base in case something goes wrong?” The major responded, “Yes sir, if for whatever reason Mr. Lapointe failed to hold down the fort, we blow the thing to hell. Our fighters are faster and better armed. So it shouldn’t be a problem. Back to the plan, once we have confirmation the ship is secured, I land my plane, the Colonel takes command of the ship, and I fly it back here.”
The old marine then added that there are 2 other procedure particulars. The marines had ample small arms but relatively few assault rifles. While the centurions appear to have heavy arms as standard issue. The men would take them as they went. Second, after a toaster is shot, cutting saws would be used to dismember it. Making it clear there is no reason to take any chances. The Argus’ old man wrapped up the meeting by looking at the time breakdown. “Let’s see here what we are looking at for a turn around. It took you 2 hours to cook up this scheme. 15 hours for modifications to the heavy equipment. 2 hours to fly to the objective. Finally add in the time to come here plus 1.5. So it’s going to be 24.5 hours the Lieutenant is going to be sleeping alone with the enemy.
Factor in another 10 to 12 for the time he was awake getting ready for the original mission. He has got to be feeling the pressure. So get to work” When the trio walked out of the office and captain Reeves announced the Admiral was on deck, Hallis noticed that although the people in CIC were working, there were sideways glances and it was clear to the old man that curiosity was particularly high. He paused and thought for a moment about everything this crew had experienced. First it was a surprise attack that almost destroyed them, then getting lost in space, without heating or fuel, under the threat of death from dehydration and now reduced to eating sludge-gumbo for their very survival. Looking around at the hollowed faces of his people, their weightless evidenced by the scraps of rope or cloth holding their ever loosening pants in place. They were defying the odds and surviving.
As Reeves walked over to return command to admiral Hallis, the old man made a judgment call. The men and women of the Argus deserved a break or at least a pat on back. Therefore he asked to be put on the ship’s address. “Attention all personnel, this is Admiral Hallis. So far Operation Cain has been successful and we are now preparing to launch its second phase. Major Assuras, colonel Bridgeford and marine forces will be returning to the basestar. They will take control of the enemy vessel and return here with it. It will be used to refuel and re-arm us. Having completed that, we already have procured flight logs that have provided us the location of a known planet. It is my plan to go there, calculate a jump, grab some take out food and head home. I’m sure everyone wishes the operatives of this mission good hunting.”
No sooner did he abruptly end with, “that is all”, when the ship erupted in clapping, cheers, hugs and some tears. It was a gutsy move on the Admiral’s part. But he figured that even if the toaster base ended up being destroyed, they still knew where to get food. According to the navigational data they were close to a planet. Once everyone in command returned to normal, the Captain joked, “I told you if you needed to know he would tell you.” With their spirits newly lifted, everyone laughed readily in response.
-----
There were icicles forming from the breath of the men in the rear of the hauler. The general attitude of the marines was one of welcome relief to be involved in doing something other than chaperoning mechanics and flyboys. And the mission briefing affirmed that if everything went like clockwork, this could be just a coffee run, yet despite their eagerness, tension was high. As it is prone to happen among hand-to-hand combatants, the humor was a mixture of subtle harassment about each other’s bravery to morbid commentary about what each person was going to do to the enemy. One man said he was going to return with a collection of robot heads and put on a puppet show for the entire ship. Needless to say there were many people willing to help him with his endeavor.
The vipers led the approach to draw any fire should the enemy be ready for engagement. Although the communication antenna was destroyed, no one wanted to take unnecessary chances and the raptors made sure all possible electronic signals were jammed. Colonel Bridgeford assumed a position of command in one of the raptors and gave the order to go in.
As according to plan, a small group of marines aboard one of the raptors went in first to secure the landing bay. Upon landing, 4 centurions immediately awoke and approached the unknown plane. The moment the soldiers opened the door a firefight commenced and a stray shot ricocheted into the cockpit wounding the pilot in the neck. However, as quickly as the combat began, it finished, and the sound of a cutting saw dismembering the fallen robots was soon heard. The navigator of the plane immediately radioed in the situation while one of the soldiers performed immediate triage. “Command, Sasha. One man down and it’s Bear.” A shrill gurgle of pain came from Bear and the field medic responded to it, saying that’s a good sign. Noting that the bullet had passed cleanly through the left and out the right side of the neck, severing only the windpipe, the medic added that the lieutenant’s singing career was over, but that he would live. And Sasha continued her transmission with the information. “He is expected to live, but we can’t lift off without another pilot.”
“Chief Max that’s your queue. It’s time to unwrap the gifts.” Bridgeford fumed slightly about the loss of one pilot but in war things like this happened. The important thing was the first part of the plan was now finished, and in the absence of enemy fire, it appeared that Lapointe had done his job. The marine commented to himself, “Apparently the lieutenant had to reset some sort of computer beep every 90 minutes. I hope everything goes smoothly because he has got to be exhausted.”
The massive hauler roared toward the enemy ship and the chief complained that it was a tight squeeze fitting in the door. As he passed through, he scraped the side of the plane and laughed about needing a new paint job. Everyone sitting in the back was jostled and one of the soldiers took it as a signal to make a speech. “You bunch of mother-fraking bad asses! When you go in there don’t forget these toasters killed thousands of our people and murdered lieutenant Cain. I’m going to stuff their tin heads up their metal butts! Now who is with me?” The men shouted back that they all were, to which he responded that he couldn’t hear them.
The spirit lifting revelry continued, response and challenge, with each increasing in volume until the words could no loner be understood. Then finally the man laughed, “Yea! Now prove it by getting me cylon ashtray.” The industrial machine landed, the men filed out of the craft, broke up into units and quickly commenced to secure the foreign territory. Working as team the marines advanced. A pair would take the lead and identify the proximity of robots. Then several shooters would take position and gun down the things at the best range possible. This sneak attack approach worked to annihilate many centurions in their dormant state, however there were still sporadic gunfights. Once the machine was taken down, a man with an industrial saw would quickly remove the head and limbs of it and then the creature’s weapons would be confiscated for use.
The marines worked quickly and after 55 minutes, the Colonel was signaled that they felt reasonably assured the ship was under their control. As the colonel’s raptor was brought aboard, gave his final command to the viper squadron. “Cupcake, Bridgeford. If you have to destroy the thing, do it and don’t worry about us.” The order was acknowledged.
A troop command center was being established in the landing bay when the colonel’s plane came in. As he exited onto the flight deck the sergeant in command came up to verbally relay a preliminary report. Three soldiers to the far left were being boisterously loud. “Sir, all vital areas are secured. It’s mainly just the hack and slash left.” The two men ignored the ruckus, despite its increasing volume and participants. It was Clubber, the raptor pilot, poking his head out to inquire if there was a drunken party going on, that finally garnered a response. The marine sergeant yelled for the others to keep it down and Bridgeford inquired about the score.
Lieutenant Turin looked perplexed and the two marines laughed, explaining that they were playing a game. “With marine ground-pounders, it’s common practice to take large, easily rolled objects that once belonged to the enemy, set up a few in a formation and try and knock them down for points.” In this case it was cylon heads. The Lieutenant went from being confused to slightly shocked and the colonel laughed harder. “After crawling on your belly in mud, 12 hour marches carrying full gear in the rain and eating bugs; the marines always have the best souvenir shop in the colonial forces.”
No sooner was the word given that all toasters had been dismembered, and Bridgeford’s handheld wireless crackled to life. One of the soldiers alerted him they had found lieutenant Lapointe. “He’s not injured, but he is in rough shape, I think you need to come look for yourself.” The old marine acknowledged and squinted his left eye trying to figure out what could possibly be the problem. Glancing toward Turin he shrugged and proceeded down the hallway.
Cupcake then emerged and Hallis immediately noted they were 1 man short. “Yes sir, Lapointe remained aboard the enemy ship. The parameters have changed and I’ve extended the mission. I left him behind and in control of the enemy base.” In unison the two men folded their arms and waited for her to continue. This accidental synchronized act had an unsettling effect on Assuras. “We more or less accomplished our objectives. We know where we are, destroyed the communications, Mr. Lapointe has control of the basestar’s flight systems and we can gather enemy data by taking apart the base.” The two command officers looked at her wide-eyed and everyone was motioned toward the Admiral’s office for debriefing.
“Sir, discretionary power was given to us. I made a command decision because it made sense. Once we had a copy the navigational data, I could no longer argue the logic.” No one was arguing with major Assuras, but she was still unsettled because her two mission companions were extremely silent. “Sir, the cylons have fuel, ammo and a ton of other things we need. After the marines do some house cleaning, the ship is ours.”
Hallis sat at his desk and shook his head to say no, but responded that it was a great idea. Assuras was suddenly relieved as the admiral told her and Bridgeford they had 2 hours to workout a profile. “Even if the toasters are off, I wouldn’t want to be left alone and surrounded by them.”
It was hard to keep anything on the Argus compartmentalized. Although it was relatively easy to keep exact details secret, preventing everyone from knowing when and what was going to happen was impossible. The moment the computer panel with the flight data was handed to Reeves in CIC Everyone suspected they would be returning to the basestar. After all, it was a piece of scratched tin and not a laptop computer. Consequently when Assuras and Bridgeford left the debriefing, the captain found himself again having to remind everyone. “Need to know basis people!”
The major and the colonel sat at table trying to work out the details for the second stage of Operation Cain. “Counting what was already on the Poseidon, I have two groups of marines and I want all of them for the mission.” Assuras looked at him noting that it was more than a raptor could hold. “Back in my day we had shuttles and a couple of those would have done the trick.” The major looked at him and said that she didn’t feel comfortable putting that many of our advanced technical planes in an enemy strong hold, not to mention the large amount of fuel that many would require. “I would rather just use one or two. Set up a command center from the first and maybe have the second in the air jamming all signals.” Although extremely slow in comparison, a single hauler could carry everyone with equipment and have lots of room to spare. But the rear of a hauler wasn’t pressurized and suits would run out of air long before arriving at the destination and there probably weren’t enough oxygen bottles aboard to make it feasible.
Bridgeford pondered for a moment and then asked Assuras to grab them some sludge-gumbo, that he would be back in 20 minutes. He was heading down to the port flight deck to discuss the problem with knuckle grinder to two.
The noise from the processing of the ice fragments and various other mechanical endeavours was deafening and the colonel had to yell in order to be heard. He stood talking to two, a machinist and female wielder. “So you want to use a hauler as a troop carrier?” The woman had asked and wondered why they couldn’t just use raptors or suits if they really had their heart set on using heavy equipment.
Bridgeford rubbed his face hoping this wasn’t going to be a difficult conversation. The male looked at his co-worker then commented, “Got too many men to carry and too far to go, huh Colonel? Not a problem. It’s just a question of a few wields, some seals and an O2 scrubber. However, it won’t be heated. But you can still use suits just to keep warm. We could run a couple of power couplings from the engine into the back everyone can plug into.” The machinist further explained that there were no vital manufacturing operations currently underway, so he could pull some men from their jobs and get it done in about 15 hours. The old marine smugly smirked; this was the kind of answer he was hoping for.
Assuras and Bridgeford had their plan of action and met with the admiral again. It was relatively simple in design. A squadron of vipers, two raptors and a modified hauler would be dispatched to the basestar. One raptor would remain outside of base in order to jam all and any signals. The second would enter; land and a small group of marines would vacate and secure the landing bay. This would give the other marines time to remove their suits and file out after the hauler landed. They would then proceed directly toward Lapointe, securing the pathway as they went.
Upon arrival, one group of marines works the upper saucer and the second group goes downstairs. Hallis interrupted and wanted confirmation of what he already knew, “The vipers are to destroy the base in case something goes wrong?” The major responded, “Yes sir, if for whatever reason Mr. Lapointe failed to hold down the fort, we blow the thing to hell. Our fighters are faster and better armed. So it shouldn’t be a problem. Back to the plan, once we have confirmation the ship is secured, I land my plane, the Colonel takes command of the ship, and I fly it back here.”
The old marine then added that there are 2 other procedure particulars. The marines had ample small arms but relatively few assault rifles. While the centurions appear to have heavy arms as standard issue. The men would take them as they went. Second, after a toaster is shot, cutting saws would be used to dismember it. Making it clear there is no reason to take any chances. The Argus’ old man wrapped up the meeting by looking at the time breakdown. “Let’s see here what we are looking at for a turn around. It took you 2 hours to cook up this scheme. 15 hours for modifications to the heavy equipment. 2 hours to fly to the objective. Finally add in the time to come here plus 1.5. So it’s going to be 24.5 hours the Lieutenant is going to be sleeping alone with the enemy.
Factor in another 10 to 12 for the time he was awake getting ready for the original mission. He has got to be feeling the pressure. So get to work” When the trio walked out of the office and captain Reeves announced the Admiral was on deck, Hallis noticed that although the people in CIC were working, there were sideways glances and it was clear to the old man that curiosity was particularly high. He paused and thought for a moment about everything this crew had experienced. First it was a surprise attack that almost destroyed them, then getting lost in space, without heating or fuel, under the threat of death from dehydration and now reduced to eating sludge-gumbo for their very survival. Looking around at the hollowed faces of his people, their weightless evidenced by the scraps of rope or cloth holding their ever loosening pants in place. They were defying the odds and surviving.
As Reeves walked over to return command to admiral Hallis, the old man made a judgment call. The men and women of the Argus deserved a break or at least a pat on back. Therefore he asked to be put on the ship’s address. “Attention all personnel, this is Admiral Hallis. So far Operation Cain has been successful and we are now preparing to launch its second phase. Major Assuras, colonel Bridgeford and marine forces will be returning to the basestar. They will take control of the enemy vessel and return here with it. It will be used to refuel and re-arm us. Having completed that, we already have procured flight logs that have provided us the location of a known planet. It is my plan to go there, calculate a jump, grab some take out food and head home. I’m sure everyone wishes the operatives of this mission good hunting.”
No sooner did he abruptly end with, “that is all”, when the ship erupted in clapping, cheers, hugs and some tears. It was a gutsy move on the Admiral’s part. But he figured that even if the toaster base ended up being destroyed, they still knew where to get food. According to the navigational data they were close to a planet. Once everyone in command returned to normal, the Captain joked, “I told you if you needed to know he would tell you.” With their spirits newly lifted, everyone laughed readily in response.
-----
There were icicles forming from the breath of the men in the rear of the hauler. The general attitude of the marines was one of welcome relief to be involved in doing something other than chaperoning mechanics and flyboys. And the mission briefing affirmed that if everything went like clockwork, this could be just a coffee run, yet despite their eagerness, tension was high. As it is prone to happen among hand-to-hand combatants, the humor was a mixture of subtle harassment about each other’s bravery to morbid commentary about what each person was going to do to the enemy. One man said he was going to return with a collection of robot heads and put on a puppet show for the entire ship. Needless to say there were many people willing to help him with his endeavor.
The vipers led the approach to draw any fire should the enemy be ready for engagement. Although the communication antenna was destroyed, no one wanted to take unnecessary chances and the raptors made sure all possible electronic signals were jammed. Colonel Bridgeford assumed a position of command in one of the raptors and gave the order to go in.
As according to plan, a small group of marines aboard one of the raptors went in first to secure the landing bay. Upon landing, 4 centurions immediately awoke and approached the unknown plane. The moment the soldiers opened the door a firefight commenced and a stray shot ricocheted into the cockpit wounding the pilot in the neck. However, as quickly as the combat began, it finished, and the sound of a cutting saw dismembering the fallen robots was soon heard. The navigator of the plane immediately radioed in the situation while one of the soldiers performed immediate triage. “Command, Sasha. One man down and it’s Bear.” A shrill gurgle of pain came from Bear and the field medic responded to it, saying that’s a good sign. Noting that the bullet had passed cleanly through the left and out the right side of the neck, severing only the windpipe, the medic added that the lieutenant’s singing career was over, but that he would live. And Sasha continued her transmission with the information. “He is expected to live, but we can’t lift off without another pilot.”
“Chief Max that’s your queue. It’s time to unwrap the gifts.” Bridgeford fumed slightly about the loss of one pilot but in war things like this happened. The important thing was the first part of the plan was now finished, and in the absence of enemy fire, it appeared that Lapointe had done his job. The marine commented to himself, “Apparently the lieutenant had to reset some sort of computer beep every 90 minutes. I hope everything goes smoothly because he has got to be exhausted.”
The massive hauler roared toward the enemy ship and the chief complained that it was a tight squeeze fitting in the door. As he passed through, he scraped the side of the plane and laughed about needing a new paint job. Everyone sitting in the back was jostled and one of the soldiers took it as a signal to make a speech. “You bunch of mother-fraking bad asses! When you go in there don’t forget these toasters killed thousands of our people and murdered lieutenant Cain. I’m going to stuff their tin heads up their metal butts! Now who is with me?” The men shouted back that they all were, to which he responded that he couldn’t hear them.
The spirit lifting revelry continued, response and challenge, with each increasing in volume until the words could no loner be understood. Then finally the man laughed, “Yea! Now prove it by getting me cylon ashtray.” The industrial machine landed, the men filed out of the craft, broke up into units and quickly commenced to secure the foreign territory. Working as team the marines advanced. A pair would take the lead and identify the proximity of robots. Then several shooters would take position and gun down the things at the best range possible. This sneak attack approach worked to annihilate many centurions in their dormant state, however there were still sporadic gunfights. Once the machine was taken down, a man with an industrial saw would quickly remove the head and limbs of it and then the creature’s weapons would be confiscated for use.
The marines worked quickly and after 55 minutes, the Colonel was signaled that they felt reasonably assured the ship was under their control. As the colonel’s raptor was brought aboard, gave his final command to the viper squadron. “Cupcake, Bridgeford. If you have to destroy the thing, do it and don’t worry about us.” The order was acknowledged.
A troop command center was being established in the landing bay when the colonel’s plane came in. As he exited onto the flight deck the sergeant in command came up to verbally relay a preliminary report. Three soldiers to the far left were being boisterously loud. “Sir, all vital areas are secured. It’s mainly just the hack and slash left.” The two men ignored the ruckus, despite its increasing volume and participants. It was Clubber, the raptor pilot, poking his head out to inquire if there was a drunken party going on, that finally garnered a response. The marine sergeant yelled for the others to keep it down and Bridgeford inquired about the score.
Lieutenant Turin looked perplexed and the two marines laughed, explaining that they were playing a game. “With marine ground-pounders, it’s common practice to take large, easily rolled objects that once belonged to the enemy, set up a few in a formation and try and knock them down for points.” In this case it was cylon heads. The Lieutenant went from being confused to slightly shocked and the colonel laughed harder. “After crawling on your belly in mud, 12 hour marches carrying full gear in the rain and eating bugs; the marines always have the best souvenir shop in the colonial forces.”
No sooner was the word given that all toasters had been dismembered, and Bridgeford’s handheld wireless crackled to life. One of the soldiers alerted him they had found lieutenant Lapointe. “He’s not injured, but he is in rough shape, I think you need to come look for yourself.” The old marine acknowledged and squinted his left eye trying to figure out what could possibly be the problem. Glancing toward Turin he shrugged and proceeded down the hallway.