Battlestar Argus

As the ass haulers approached the fragment, Dancer radioed Honey and let her know that everything looked as before. But he left the decision on making a surface pass up to her. “No lets try to save a wee bit of fuel. Everything looks the same. I’ll call you if I need you.”

Observing the trajectory, shape and speed, Cain ordered Max to anchor from behind the snowball and prepare to slow it down first. Chief Maxime, acknowledged the order and proceeded to circle behind. As he rounded the rear of the ice chunk, he suddenly reversed direction, fired his engines on maximum and screamed over the radio.

“Cylons!!! It’s a Fraking Cylon raider” Lieutenant Cain barked orders to her squad to break and run while Dancer signaled the Argus for support. In CIC petty officer Richards had been monitoring communications and alerted Command to the situation and the admiral immediately ordered Dagget into the air and he was patched in on the ship’s speaker. “This is Admiral Hallis, we are at condition 2. This is not a drill.” He then looked at Bridgeford and simply noted that although they might be lost but appears that the enemy had found them.

As major Ford came into view, lieutenant Cain took a position alongside the raptor. Scuds and Max were returning to the Argus. Something about this situation didn’t feel right, as if there was something that should be happening but wasn’t. She broke radio silence, “Dancer something isn’t right about this.” There was no response and major Ford was now heading directly toward the comet fragment. It was obvious that he intended to surprise the raider and take it out before it could spot him. Again Honey broke silence, “Honey to Dagget. Stand down, there is more going on here.” Ford, didn’t respond and was now angry that this glorified truck driver was jeopardizing their safety by not shutting up. Desperately the lieutenant tried the Argus.

“Hell’s Honey here, give me Actual. It’s fraking important.” She watched and held her breath because in the next few moments the major would begin his attack run. Several more heartbeats passed when the radio finally signalled a response from Actual. And the admiral made it clear it had better be good. “Sir something is wrong with how that raider is behaving. We cannot see it at all without going behind the ice; it is practically riding the fragment. And despite being seen, it hasn’t moved away from the ice. Please just tell Dagget to make a pass first.” Hallis’ breathing could be heard and it was obvious he was considering the decision. Finally after several intense seconds he ordered major Ford to break off his attack. Hell’s Honey breathed a sigh of relief.

Ford circled wide and made a pass for a visual on the raider. “Dagget to Argus, it’s a raider alright, but it doesn’t look like the ones that attacked us. It looks like the pictures in the history books.” The raptor moved closer to acquire data readings on the craft. Several minutes passed finally Dancer stated that it appeared to be a derelict caught in the fragment’s gravitational pull. With surprise the major commented that considering the gravity from this chunk was so minor it must have passed within millimeters of the ship to ensnare it. He then contacted the Argus again for further advisement.

Despite the apparent lack of threat, Hallis wanted the enemy annihilated. Lieutenant Cain was on the radio calmly asking the admiral to reconsider his decision to destroy the enemy bird. But it was finally captain Reeves and colonel Bridgeford, in CIC, that convinced the old man to change his mind. The captain argued that the raider might contain navigational information to help them figure out where they were. And the old marine overcame Hallis’ fear of a trap by reminding him that if it were, it would mean the enemy already knew where they were. And as such they were already screwed. The logic over ruled is instincts and he ordered the ship brought back with the snowball.

-----

Save for the marines, the landing bay was cleared of all personnel. The Colonel coordinated with his men using wireless communications. Once they secured the area and surrounded the raider, chief Forester and another aviation mechanic were quickly brought into to disable the weapons and power systems of the craft. After they completed their tasks the two men were quickly rushed out of the bay and an armed man prepared to enter the plane. The next few moments everyone aboard the Argus was holding their breaths.

The hatch opened and a soldier cautiously entered. Several heavy eternal seconds passed before a response was given. “I have 3 centurions, they don’t appear to be alive. Please advise.” Bridgeford ordered to attempt to remove any weapons they might have and then they would remove the robots. One by one, they came out and were placed on the flight deck floor. Sufficiently satisfied the cylons were not a threat, the old marine pronounced the area secure. Although the atmosphere was intense, there was optimism that this discovery might turn out to be another lucky break. However, as Hallis approached the area, the look in his eyes appeared more blood thirsty than hopeful or apprehensive. It was obvious to anyone looking at him that he was thinking about the people he had lost and the civilians that died from the surprise attack.

Standing directly before the enemy bodies he uttered his only orders. “There’s general meeting at 07h00. Colonel, you tell captain Reeves to get his butt down here and get to work.” He then spat on one of the toasters and left landing bay.

-----

Carrying a small box, Lewellyn strolled toward the admiral’s office talking to the alchemist. He was calmly asking him not to antagonize the colonel. “Just tuck your shirt in and try and be more professional.” The unwilling recruit winked and smiled in response and the doctor knew he was asking a leopard to change his spots. The door to the office was open and they entered without knocking. Both Hallis and Bridgeford were already present and engaged in conversation. Stopping their dialog, they looked at the two men who entered and colonel Bridgeford ask them to close the door. The private did so with dramatic flair and the old marine bit his lip. Dr. Lewellyn put the box on the table and smiled as he asked everyone to guess what his present was. The two commanding officers just looked at the man without a comment.

The ship’s medical officer shrugged off the cold stares. “Well, I brought us breakfast.” He then opened the box and produced several glasses and a container of brownish orange colored liquid. Admiral Hallis and colonel Bridgeford suspiciously regarded the liquid substance without touching the container. The doctor laughed at their apprehension and let them know it was made from the comet. He then explained that the comet contained microorganisms which they had successfully cultured and from which they could easily extrapolate all 8 essential amino acids. As he finished, “there is tons of the stuff, so drink up”; Cain, Reeves, Lapointe and major Ford entered the room. Lapointe immediately noticed the worried faces and the oddly colored liquid and spoke without consideration, “Wonderful poop juice.” To which Private Parts burst out laughing.

The meeting started and the medical report was first. Immediately the ship’s doctor began to chew out the colonel for his marine workout program. Ford sat with arms crossed and a condescending look on his face. “I indulged you’re exercise program only because it kept people busy during operation icicle. I agreed with the admiral that busy and tired soldiers were better than hungry and desperate ones. But the workouts and the double duties have got to stop. I have already treated 5 people for extreme fatigue and hunger. We are human! Not toasters!” The man punctuated his final comment by slamming his fist on the table. Admiral Hallis nodded and agreed that all double duties would immediately cease. “Good! Now our odds of not dying from hunger have increased significantly because we have some supplements.”

Having won the argument the Doc stood up and delivered his report. Captain Lewellyn explained that the reason for the liquid concoction was to try to keep the digestive system functioning. Amino acids in a pure crystallized form are immediately taken up into the bloodstream. But a diet of nothing but amino acids is damaging on the kidneys. The crew would need to drink at least 4 glasses a day, but should have a 2.5 to 1 water intake with it. “So until we get a crops growing or synthesize livestock, get used to the taste”. The solution to the digestive problems was to create the slurry; its special additive is fatty-lipids. Reaching over and patting the colorful chemist on the shoulder he told everyone how the private found a method to hydrolyze human hair for the last ingredient.

Private Parts, as he claimed was his name, stood up and took a bow and then looked at the Colonel and appeared to address him directly. “And I need more of it. So hair cuts for everyone. And that can include beards, body hair and even a big brave marine’s curly pubes. Bridgeford’s eyes narrowed and it was obvious he was clenching his fists under the table. Admiral Hallis gave the marine colonel a hard stare, and the doctor quickly returned to making his report. “Now the drink does not contain all eight essentials. Triptophane is a natural sedative so I will be distributing it in pure form to be taken before bed. This should both help the crew sleep and keep its effects from interfering with duties. And there are no excuses or exceptions.”

The Colonel stood up to brief everyone about the recovered raider and as he did so the drafted drug dealer whistled commenting about how nice Bridgeford’s package looked in his pants. Colonel Bridgeford turned 3 different shades of red, sat back down, handed captain Reeves his written analysis and then spoke directly to the private. “Next time you talk to me like that or disgrace that uniform I’ll put a bullet in your head. You fraking homo.” Admiral Hallis immediately barked, “Stand down! And that’s an order colonel!” He then looked at the doctor and his charge, “If there is nothing else for you to add, both of you are dismissed.” The two men got up and walked out of the room without further incident.

As Hallis looked back at the marine, Reeves tried to defuse the situation asking if he could proceed. The Admiral hesitated for a moment then gave him the go ahead. “At the admiral’s request I assembled a team last night to study the cylon fighter and I asked the Colonel to be part of it. Our preliminary findings and speculations are a mix of good and possible bad news. Starting with colonel Bridgeford’s situational analysis….”

The Captain explained that based on the fact that the raider was old, best estimates place it at the end or shortly after the first conflict. It doesn’t have long range or FTL capability. “Therefore it is safe to assume the possibility of a basestar nearby.” The admiral’s face showed no expression whereas major Ford glowered and folded his arms. As everyone looked at him for the moment he realized his faux pas and quickly explained he was eager to kick some toaster ass and Hallis agreed. “The good news is it has been in space a long time. We haven’t found any damage yet and it has almost a full tank of fuel.

We believe the plane’s flight systems may have protocol that automatically shuts down everything, perhaps to await further orders, in order to preserve power. So if there is a basestar…” Admiral Hallis interrupted Reeves and completed the sentence saying that it might have similarly shut down. He then cracked his neck and asked where they guessed the ship could be. Captain Reeves responded by gesturing for lieutenant Cain to take the floor.

As Alana stood up, Ford decided to hide his contempt for the woman by pretending to make notes. As far as he was concerned anything she said was a waste of time and would only have to be verified by those who were better trained. “Thank you captain and my apologies if I’m a little rough around the edges. I’m kind of new at this officer stuff.”

The admiral assured her it would be fine and to continue. She then quickly added that based on her recent activities everyone believes she is a trajectory genius. Taking a deep breath she started, “Ok, the smaller fragment followed a wider but similar path toward the Argus. Since we could see the piece for the first 8 hours of our return trip, it is unlikely it encountered the raider along that portion of its path.

Mapping its trajectory, I further narrowed the field based on the raptor logs of the water searches.” She then inadvertently looked at the major and commented provided those flight reports were complete; this left one area that was never searched. “It puts it about 15,000 km out from us.” The lieutenant sat back down and despite his annoyance for Cain’s subtle jab at his mistake, major Ford decided to not ask any questions.

Admiral Hallis looked at the Colonel and ordered him to personally oversee this situation and coordinate a recon mission with the CAG. He then looked at lieutenant Lapointe and the major letting them know they were next. Putting his arms on the table and leaning forward, Ford abruptly began stating there was a problem.

“We just got the scrap cleaned out of the starboard flight deck and the lieutenant and the grunts want to fill it up again. As it is, this ship has an inferior number of launch tubes and if the cylons attack, we’re screwed.” Mr. Lapointe attempted to explain that to fully exploit the resources of the comet fragments required large floor area to construct equipment, melt pieces they break off and easy access to space to get those pieces. The major folded his arms and huffed in disgust and made it clear that he believed the enlisted personal weren’t trying hard enough to find better solutions.

However Bridgeford wasn’t being tolerant of the holier-than-thou attitude and bluntly told lieutenant Lapointe that the men could have whatever they needed and the admiral gave his authority by agreeing. “There is water, heating fuel and even some nutrition in that ice. We need that stuff now and we can deal with the enemy later. Is there anything else bothering you?”

Much to everyone’s surprise, major Ford continued. “Yes sir there is a discipline problem in the lower ranks. No one has outright disobeyed my orders but they certainly aren’t performing to the best of their abilities.” Hallis dropped his head and then rubbed his face with his hands asking the Colonel to take over. “You know flyboy there is a saying in the marine guard that war brings out the true nature of a man. I don’t know what you were like prior to these problems, but you have been a damn arrogant ass. It’s high time you learn that the enlisted men are every bit as valuable as anyone else on this ship.”

Ford interrupted saying he just believed that captain Reeves was better able to handle the men and should be placed in charge of them again. Admiral Hallis slammed his fist onthe table; “I’ll consider your advice and implement the change when the war is over! If there is nothing else, I’m closing this meeting.” The admiral then got up, walked out the door and into CIC.

-----

Although the comet contained trace amounts of tylium, extracting it was not going to be easy. But methane was plentiful, easy to get at and could be used to power virtually every small engine or machine on the Argus. So as pieces of the fragment were processed, the Argus started to become fully operational again. The objective was that two large generators would handle all of the ship’s electrical requirements.

Construction of the first began during operation icicle and was now completed. It restored full electrical to everything from lighting to dradius. The portable generators were now being used for their designed function, to power tools and construction equipment. The second generator was larger and was still being built. It would power the entire environmental systems and needless to say everyone aboard looked forward to being able to effectively heat the old battlestar. Despite the main heating still being offline, less crew were now sleeping communicably on the galley floor as better quarters became available due to makeshift electric and methane space heaters.

Colonel Bridgeford had chuckled in CIC when he overheard a crewmen complain about the lack of available mattresses. Mentally noting that it was only a few days prior they were processing their own body waste for nutrients and fuel and facing certain death due to dehydration. He couldn’t help but marvel at how far they had come in such a short period of time. This could have easily degenerated into anarchy and cannibalism but despite a few incidents, everyone had held tight and rose to the challenge. He believed that the recent events were the greatest moments in his life-long career. This was going to be the year they retired him to a desk, but the fight wasn’t out of him yet. And as he dressed each morning it occurred to him, never before was he as proud as he was now, to put his uniform on and do his duty.

“Cylons Suck! Strife – 126 kills!” Ford read the words scratched on the bottom of the rack above him. Admittedly the Argus was a ship with a lot history, but it was also old and obsolete. It certainly wasn’t the Poseidon, which by contrast was organized and disciplined. This boat was literally a garbage barge in comparison. As he lay in his rack awake and waiting for his obligatory duty babysitting the enlisted, his mind wandered. He saw the current situation as inconvenient, chaotic and Reeves was completely to blame for it. The captain had been intentionally deceptive concerning his rank when he reached the Poseidon. He had completely overstepped command structure assuming duties that were not his responsibility. A junkyard dog is supposed to be guarding a refuse pile and not assuming command of a battlestar.

Their planes were functioning, but he took them out of the fight, and he got everyone lost in space. Had he been better trained he would have known to just pick up the survivors of the Poseidon and wait for the fleet to send proper help. And now their best hope for getting home was finding the enemy’s basestar. Just then his wristwatch alarm went off and rubbing his eyes, he got out of bed.

-----

Ford walked out of the pilot’s duty locker and into a nearby bathroom. He was happy that all the toilets were now functioning and he didn’t have to publicly urinate in a bottle. Never again would he take being able to use the head alone for granted. Inwardly he was excited that there should be hot water in the next 48-72hrs and he could have a long shower. If they could figure out how to make some soap, toothpaste and towels, it would be perfect. But on the Reeves luxury cruise, such things cost extra. The major rubbed his bald head as he looked in the mirror. He felt smug because he was the first man on the ship to donate his hair for the cause of manufacturing the new food replacements. But still as he gazed in the mirror he dreaded having to do yet another night as grunt supervisor.

Technically there was no day or night aboard the Argus but according to the time kept, he was performing the night shift. At least that meant less of the enlisted men he would have to watch over. He knew they didn’t like him and they laughed behind his back. There was nothing he could do to change that. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out some of the herbal substance he got from the alchemist. “Just a little to take the edge off”, he convinced himself was all he needed, as he rolled it in a piece of paper between his fingers. Grinning mischievously, he then walked into a stall, closed the door, knelt down on the floor and smoked it, exhaling into toilet to hide the smell. After finishing it he walked out with a smile to the starboard flight pod. Today was going to be the day everyone would like him.

The starboard flight pod was a buzz with men constructing various processors and chemical separators. The cylon raider and the 3 centurions had been moved here as well and lay in a corner on the floor. Ford entered singing a song and patting a few men on the back. He walked past lieutenant Cain and Chief Forester, who were tinkering with one of the engines from a hauler. Each of the big industrial machines had 5 engines and they had removed one and mounted it for experimentation. “Hey chief, lieutenant. What are you two up to?” Forester explained that he couldn’t sleep and decided to figure out if he could make the engine run on methane. He had asked lieutenant Cain for a bit of help.

The major responded, “No problem. Do your best and if you two need a break alone…” He smiled a big toothy grin that instead of appearing friendly actually made a chill run up their spines. He continued, “I promise not to watch. In fact I promise to run interference for you two.” He then clicked his heels like a child and walked away toward a small observation room in the corner of the landing bay. Cain and Forester looked at each other nervously and finally the Chief commented saying he must have fraked the alchemist.

Time had passed and the various work proceeded smoothly on the flight floor. The major made several trips to the bathroom and was able to maintain his positive attitude. After several hours a work stoppage occurred and Ford stuck his head out of his room to inquire why. When one of the men yelled back, “Hey Major it’s our lunch.” Ford walked out and started to laugh about his stupidity. Everyone expecting some sort of chew out or speech about disloyalty to the uniform found this a refreshing change. “So let me guess what’s for lunch today? Hmm… I bet it’s brown sludge.” Nervous laughs ensued. Not because what was said was particularly funny but because no one was certain what to make of the major’s behavior.

Not undaunted by the lack of guffaws he wanted, major Ford decided to push his comedy act further. He walked over to one of the centurions and proceeded to introduce his friend. Doing a very effective ventriloquist act, Ford told several jokes. Alana Cain observed his behaviour and felt that not only were his actions inappropriate but potentially dangerous. She complained to chief that someone should say something before he went too far. Chief shrugged and pointed out that Alana was the next highest ranking personnel in the room.

“You know the toasters think they are tough! But can they dance?” Major Ford picked up the inanimate robot and attempted a waltz with it and laughed at how it needed to go on a diet. “See ladies and gentlemen, there is nothing to be afraid of. It is a well known fact that those that can’t dance can’t win a war.” He dropped the machine on the floor and then pulled down his pants to display his rear end at the toaster. At last he got the laughter he wanted. At which point Cain walked up to the major and demanded to talk.

But Ford responded, “Chill out lieutenant! It’s just a dead toaster. Besides this is good for the moral of the troops. And you would know that if you attended officer school. Now mommy, go back to the chief and suckle someone who wants it.” Needless to say this was a hit with the enlisted men watching the show and Cain walked away.


Lieutenant Cain was becoming angry over major Ford’s actions. Not only had he publicly humiliated her, but also his callous disregard for the enemy was sure to get someone hurt. When he propped the cylon up in a chair, put his sidearm in its hand and proceeded to pantomime being shot, she had had enough. “Major! I know you are superior officer, but what you are doing is dangerous.” The major turned around to dismiss the new lieutenant’s concerns by explaining the machine was dead. However, unnoticed to anyone, the cylon’s eye began to move back and forth. It noticed the gun in its hand, aimed at the quarreling duo and fired. Blood poured from a wound in Alana’s chest and she looked stunned at major Ford for a second and fell to the floor. Surprised, he turned around to see were the shot had come from and two rounds were placed in his abdomen.

The Colonel had decided to periodically check in on Ford to ensure things flowed smoothly. He was just rounding the corner to the bay when he heard lieutenant Cain yell at the major and then the gunshots. Drawing his gun he ran to the flight deck to witness the chaos. The robot was fully erect and everyone was scrambling for cover. The old marine moved quickly into the room and took partial cover behind some of the processing equipment. He then returned fire, capturing the machine’s attention. It quickly degenerated into a shooting match that only ended because the centurion ran out of ammo.

The old marine was finally able to kill the cylon by placing several shots into its head. Quickly reloading and running to its side, he yelled for someone to contact medical because they had several people wounded. Chief Forester ran to his wife’s side and began to howl as she reached up to touch his face.