Prologue: The Rescue
Posted: Mon Jul 19, 2021 1:33 pm
The Poseidon was closest to the colonial scrap yard. It made common sense to try and support that battlestar until reinforcements arrived. However, no one would have guessed that the Argus would end up becoming a rescue ship and home for 900 souls. It was a built 2 decades before the first cylon war and then refurbished at the beginning of it. An untrained crew of enlisted mechanics and inexperienced captain had accomplished nothing short of the impossible. The Poseidon was destroyed but the remnants of the colonial fleet survived and with that, hope continued. But their future was grim, the enemy was far superior and they had almost no resources. And as Captain Reeves would say, "Miracles can happen, but sometime you have to push the issue."
Prologue: The Rescue
CIC on the Argus had the odor of burnt dust as old computer circuits and electrical wires became warm again after years of sitting dormant. Reeves nervously clenched his fists and did his best to not second guess his command decisions. Or at the very least, to not let his crew see, that he was just as clueless about what to do, as the men who served under him.
Remembering an old movie he once saw, he tried to bark an order like a real Commander. "Soldier! Is my fraking sky clear?" His voice cracked at the end of his inquiry. It had come as a slight surprise to him that a loud and clear voice responded, "Sir, I see no enemy contacts on the dradius." Somehow, his men weren't second guessing his command. Again he responded with force and demanded contact be made to inquire what help they could offer. But the response of, "I'm sorry sir, I can't make contact," left him with another problem he had to solve. His apprehensions started to dissolve into anger and frustration.
"Why the hell not?" His face a flushed a shade of red as he strode toward the communications counsel. "How the frak should I know. I'm a wielder not a com officer."
Push your men to the breaking point but never break them, advice from his father, stirred in his mind. "Relax," his voice dropped to a softer tone. "You are doing a fine job, I don't really know to much about communications either." Calmly he ordered, "open the shield and lets take a look." As it opened, no one could help but gasp at the spectacle.
The Poseidon was burning, landing bays were destroyed and people were vacating via the airlocks. One of the deck chiefs walked up and stood beside Reeves, "Her fire suppression systems must be destroyed and those fires are near her tylium tanks." Just then communications came online and their conversation was interrupted.
"Sir, the viper pilots just started talking again. They are trying to raise us and the Poseidon." This wasn't the time for talk; he had to assume command again. "I'll take it here unless you need me to take it there." The young man at sitting at COM began to stutter his response and the captain made quick steps to his side. "Don't worry about it." An image of relief crossed the enlisted man's face as Reeves grabbed the headset and cleared his throat.
"This is Capt…." He paused and started again. "This is Reeves, I am taking command of this situation. All vipers are cleared to make an unassisted landing on our port landing bay." The makeshift communications operator interrupted, "Sir, our port bay is filled with scrap." Reeves flashed a perturbed look at the man. "Correction, make that our starboard landing bay. All raptors are that are able, are to pick up as many survivors as possible before attempting to land."
The array of chatter on the radio confirmed his commands were being obeyed. Handing back the headset, his mind took a fast assessment of his predicament of going from captain of the junk, to battlestar commander and now fleet commander. Under his breath he mumbled, "Athena, I need a to perform miracles not royal frak-ups."
The deck chief came to stand beside him, "Sir?" With a nervous smile, "Nothing. What?" Again the deck chief spoke, "We have 3 scrap haulers in the bay and they should be able to pick up more survivors than any raptor could." The captain was finally starting to go on command-autopilot and he found himself responding his authorization without second thought. "Get them in the sky and if any are filled with scrap, flush it out into space." The chief nodded and turned on his heel. "Max, Scuds and Alana! You heard the Captain's orders get your fraking asses down there and get those haulers off the ground!" A chain of command was now in place aboard the Argus. And for the time there was nothing left to do but wait for the next problem to happen.
During the next few moments, the captain stood next to communications and made the man sitting there nervous in his job. "Sir, hauler two just landed and hauler one is ready to take off again." Reeves didn't answer, instead the chief responded from across the room, "tell them to keep going until they have no damn fuel." But no sooner, said then the problem captain Reeves was waiting for appeared. "Dradius contacts!!! A frak of a lot of them!" Reeves jumped to attention! "Tell hauler one to park it." The chief moved toward Reeves, "are they ours or cylon." Unfortunately the person operating the dradius had no clue, "They all look the same to me, Sir." Reeves coldly stated that they should assume they're cylons. The chief looked at Reeves with a questioning glance to which he was given an assurance that the Captain had no intention of toughing it out for another fight. "I know when not to push my luck, chief. What's the E.T.A. on them and hauler three?" Dradius responded that hauler three should be 3 minutes and cylons about 5. "It's going to cut it close chief, spool up the FTL. We jump the moment the hauler is aboard." At this statement the wielder at COM stood up with a shocked look and the chief responded by crossing the room and relieving him from further duty. "It's a numbers game now, nothing else we can do." And the young man silently slumped in his chair.
Dradius began to count down of the moments to the cylon arrival. "2 minutes and 30 seconds." Chief looked up, "hauler three is in the bay sir." With his arms folded in confidence, Reeves issued the order to jump. However, his problems were far from over,and he found himself with forcing yet another issue. "What the frak do you mean we can't jump?" His eyes darted and looked out at the vast expanse of space. The silhouettes of ships were now visible and it was obvious they weren't colonial. He could smell the crew's sweat and feel them looking at him in confusion and horror. His patience was running thin. "Sir, we have no coordinates."
Slapping himself in the face with both hands he bellowed, "Just fraking jump and it doesn't matter where." The room became silent as the men at FTL tried to make the jump happen. The count down from Dradius emphasized the situation, "1 minute 30 seconds." Finally at the 1 minute mark the people at FTL looked up and one of them spoke. "Sorry sir, but the system won't accept random jump coordinates. We think it's an old fail safe and we don't know how to bypass it." The chief looked at his captain and Reeves looked like a defeated man. Exhausted he spoke, "I didn't think we would be flying this thing home and I assumed there would be return coordinates in the system." The voice from Dradius echoed their situation, "45 seconds."
Chief was at the FTL command, "check the old computer log files. Maybe there is something we can use." The voice boomed again, "30 seconds!" Reeves could see the raiders clearly now and he yelled, "Shut the frak up!!!" A commotion started at FTL and chief's voice sang out, "We have coordinates!" Before he could turn to face his men, the captain screamed, "DO IT!" And in seconds the entire ship went black.
"Ah Frak sakes!" Captain Reeves had been pushed to his limits and was now losing composure in his command. It was the Chief's voice sounding that relaxed him, "It's ok! It's just the lights! We jumped! Is there anything on dradius?" The comment that "there isn't a fraking thing on the scope," was met with loud cheers of relief in CIC. For the moment it looked like a miracle had happened and they were safe.
After a few moments of indulgence, the captain stood straight and addressed his crew. "Well we aren't out of this yet. So lets save the victory lap for now. I guess now I should ask, where did we jump?" The troubled looks from FTL told more than words. "I think the coordinates we inputted were from the last jump the Argus made after she was decommissioned. That would have been to the junk yard." However, looking out the shield window, it was obvious they were nowhere near any kind of scrap depot. Reeves couldn't help but make an exhausted sneer before he spoke, "The problem is we didn't start the jump from the same place the original coordinates were used. And even if we had, there was no account for years of stellar drift." There was nothing more anyone could add. So Reeves gave instructions to get the ship's lights fixed, left the Chief in command of C.I.C, and worked his way through the darkness towards the landing bay.
The landing bay was filled with survivors and an older gentleman sat on the floor as he was having his head bandaged. Despite his condition and age, his voice rang out with authority and everyone was following his instructions. Although his space suit hid is uniform and therefore rank, Reeves easily figured it out it was Admiral Hallis. As such he made his way to the old man, stood before him, and saluted. The Admiral was the first to speak. "What's our tactical situation?" Hallis was a man of few words and business always came first.
"Sir, for the moment we are safe. And you're aboard the Argus." The Captain found himself once again second-guessing things and he wasn't sure how the Admiral would take the news he was aboard a scrap heap. The experienced soldier was able to read the Captain's feelings. "Considering the alternative, it's an honor to be here. You did good Captain. However, I'm about to cut short your command, I'm certain you understand. Your command was short, but what a command it was."
Obvious relief swept Reeve's face as the burden of decision was removed, and despite the direness of the current situation the Admiral was forced to grin. Formalities finished, Reeves spoke again. "Sir, I've got knuckle-grinders handling C.I.C, we made an emergency jump and I have no clue where we are. I'm sorry Sir."
The Admiral forced himself to his feet despite the protests of the doctor and summoned, "Mr. Lapointe, front and center." A tall dark lanky figure grabbed a piece of scrap for a makeshift crutch and came over. "Mr Lapointe, meet Captain Reeves. I want you to work with him to assess our situation." The doctor interjected that Lapointe's leg needed attention. Hallis dismissed him saying he was moving and he was needed in C.I.C, that the doctor could concern himself with the hundreds of others, assessing who could resume duties. As if to emphasize his point, the light was restored. With nothing left to say, Lapointe and Reeves started for CIC. But the Admiral called after them, "Captain Reeves, there is one thing I forgot, that I had better do now, in case I don't get the chance later." With this the Captain stopped, turned and faced the Admiral.
The Admirals voice bellowed out, "ATTENTION!!!" Reeves found himself facing the survivors of the Poseidon. Some where standing, some were on the ground and weren't sure what to do but at that moment they were all saluting him and the impact of what he and his people accomplished struck him. Perhaps in a lessor situation a tear of pride might have rolled down his cheek but Reeves became stoic. So he returned and went back to work.
It was a simple conclusion that no one aboard the Argus wanted to admit. The Poseidon was destroyed by a handful of raiders and all facts concluded that the rest of the fleet had suffered similar. Regardless of what the crew might choose to believe, the war was probably over and the colonial fleet lost. Admiral Hallis addressed the crew; he made it clear that he believed the enemy got lucky and it was just a matter of time before they were back into the fight. But Reeves remained realistic and under his breath mumbled "There is no such thing as luck when you're the one holding all the cards." Only Major Assuras and Chief Forester, whom were standing either side of him, over-heard his comment but neither gave even a whisper of acknowledgment.
It was luck that aided the colonials. It resided with them because of courage, daring and unorthodox thinking. For the new crew of the Argus, death and certain defeat had been turned into a fighting chance. But without food or other resources, finding good fortune would demand everyone push their limits.
Prologue: The Rescue
CIC on the Argus had the odor of burnt dust as old computer circuits and electrical wires became warm again after years of sitting dormant. Reeves nervously clenched his fists and did his best to not second guess his command decisions. Or at the very least, to not let his crew see, that he was just as clueless about what to do, as the men who served under him.
Remembering an old movie he once saw, he tried to bark an order like a real Commander. "Soldier! Is my fraking sky clear?" His voice cracked at the end of his inquiry. It had come as a slight surprise to him that a loud and clear voice responded, "Sir, I see no enemy contacts on the dradius." Somehow, his men weren't second guessing his command. Again he responded with force and demanded contact be made to inquire what help they could offer. But the response of, "I'm sorry sir, I can't make contact," left him with another problem he had to solve. His apprehensions started to dissolve into anger and frustration.
"Why the hell not?" His face a flushed a shade of red as he strode toward the communications counsel. "How the frak should I know. I'm a wielder not a com officer."
Push your men to the breaking point but never break them, advice from his father, stirred in his mind. "Relax," his voice dropped to a softer tone. "You are doing a fine job, I don't really know to much about communications either." Calmly he ordered, "open the shield and lets take a look." As it opened, no one could help but gasp at the spectacle.
The Poseidon was burning, landing bays were destroyed and people were vacating via the airlocks. One of the deck chiefs walked up and stood beside Reeves, "Her fire suppression systems must be destroyed and those fires are near her tylium tanks." Just then communications came online and their conversation was interrupted.
"Sir, the viper pilots just started talking again. They are trying to raise us and the Poseidon." This wasn't the time for talk; he had to assume command again. "I'll take it here unless you need me to take it there." The young man at sitting at COM began to stutter his response and the captain made quick steps to his side. "Don't worry about it." An image of relief crossed the enlisted man's face as Reeves grabbed the headset and cleared his throat.
"This is Capt…." He paused and started again. "This is Reeves, I am taking command of this situation. All vipers are cleared to make an unassisted landing on our port landing bay." The makeshift communications operator interrupted, "Sir, our port bay is filled with scrap." Reeves flashed a perturbed look at the man. "Correction, make that our starboard landing bay. All raptors are that are able, are to pick up as many survivors as possible before attempting to land."
The array of chatter on the radio confirmed his commands were being obeyed. Handing back the headset, his mind took a fast assessment of his predicament of going from captain of the junk, to battlestar commander and now fleet commander. Under his breath he mumbled, "Athena, I need a to perform miracles not royal frak-ups."
The deck chief came to stand beside him, "Sir?" With a nervous smile, "Nothing. What?" Again the deck chief spoke, "We have 3 scrap haulers in the bay and they should be able to pick up more survivors than any raptor could." The captain was finally starting to go on command-autopilot and he found himself responding his authorization without second thought. "Get them in the sky and if any are filled with scrap, flush it out into space." The chief nodded and turned on his heel. "Max, Scuds and Alana! You heard the Captain's orders get your fraking asses down there and get those haulers off the ground!" A chain of command was now in place aboard the Argus. And for the time there was nothing left to do but wait for the next problem to happen.
During the next few moments, the captain stood next to communications and made the man sitting there nervous in his job. "Sir, hauler two just landed and hauler one is ready to take off again." Reeves didn't answer, instead the chief responded from across the room, "tell them to keep going until they have no damn fuel." But no sooner, said then the problem captain Reeves was waiting for appeared. "Dradius contacts!!! A frak of a lot of them!" Reeves jumped to attention! "Tell hauler one to park it." The chief moved toward Reeves, "are they ours or cylon." Unfortunately the person operating the dradius had no clue, "They all look the same to me, Sir." Reeves coldly stated that they should assume they're cylons. The chief looked at Reeves with a questioning glance to which he was given an assurance that the Captain had no intention of toughing it out for another fight. "I know when not to push my luck, chief. What's the E.T.A. on them and hauler three?" Dradius responded that hauler three should be 3 minutes and cylons about 5. "It's going to cut it close chief, spool up the FTL. We jump the moment the hauler is aboard." At this statement the wielder at COM stood up with a shocked look and the chief responded by crossing the room and relieving him from further duty. "It's a numbers game now, nothing else we can do." And the young man silently slumped in his chair.
Dradius began to count down of the moments to the cylon arrival. "2 minutes and 30 seconds." Chief looked up, "hauler three is in the bay sir." With his arms folded in confidence, Reeves issued the order to jump. However, his problems were far from over,and he found himself with forcing yet another issue. "What the frak do you mean we can't jump?" His eyes darted and looked out at the vast expanse of space. The silhouettes of ships were now visible and it was obvious they weren't colonial. He could smell the crew's sweat and feel them looking at him in confusion and horror. His patience was running thin. "Sir, we have no coordinates."
Slapping himself in the face with both hands he bellowed, "Just fraking jump and it doesn't matter where." The room became silent as the men at FTL tried to make the jump happen. The count down from Dradius emphasized the situation, "1 minute 30 seconds." Finally at the 1 minute mark the people at FTL looked up and one of them spoke. "Sorry sir, but the system won't accept random jump coordinates. We think it's an old fail safe and we don't know how to bypass it." The chief looked at his captain and Reeves looked like a defeated man. Exhausted he spoke, "I didn't think we would be flying this thing home and I assumed there would be return coordinates in the system." The voice from Dradius echoed their situation, "45 seconds."
Chief was at the FTL command, "check the old computer log files. Maybe there is something we can use." The voice boomed again, "30 seconds!" Reeves could see the raiders clearly now and he yelled, "Shut the frak up!!!" A commotion started at FTL and chief's voice sang out, "We have coordinates!" Before he could turn to face his men, the captain screamed, "DO IT!" And in seconds the entire ship went black.
"Ah Frak sakes!" Captain Reeves had been pushed to his limits and was now losing composure in his command. It was the Chief's voice sounding that relaxed him, "It's ok! It's just the lights! We jumped! Is there anything on dradius?" The comment that "there isn't a fraking thing on the scope," was met with loud cheers of relief in CIC. For the moment it looked like a miracle had happened and they were safe.
After a few moments of indulgence, the captain stood straight and addressed his crew. "Well we aren't out of this yet. So lets save the victory lap for now. I guess now I should ask, where did we jump?" The troubled looks from FTL told more than words. "I think the coordinates we inputted were from the last jump the Argus made after she was decommissioned. That would have been to the junk yard." However, looking out the shield window, it was obvious they were nowhere near any kind of scrap depot. Reeves couldn't help but make an exhausted sneer before he spoke, "The problem is we didn't start the jump from the same place the original coordinates were used. And even if we had, there was no account for years of stellar drift." There was nothing more anyone could add. So Reeves gave instructions to get the ship's lights fixed, left the Chief in command of C.I.C, and worked his way through the darkness towards the landing bay.
The landing bay was filled with survivors and an older gentleman sat on the floor as he was having his head bandaged. Despite his condition and age, his voice rang out with authority and everyone was following his instructions. Although his space suit hid is uniform and therefore rank, Reeves easily figured it out it was Admiral Hallis. As such he made his way to the old man, stood before him, and saluted. The Admiral was the first to speak. "What's our tactical situation?" Hallis was a man of few words and business always came first.
"Sir, for the moment we are safe. And you're aboard the Argus." The Captain found himself once again second-guessing things and he wasn't sure how the Admiral would take the news he was aboard a scrap heap. The experienced soldier was able to read the Captain's feelings. "Considering the alternative, it's an honor to be here. You did good Captain. However, I'm about to cut short your command, I'm certain you understand. Your command was short, but what a command it was."
Obvious relief swept Reeve's face as the burden of decision was removed, and despite the direness of the current situation the Admiral was forced to grin. Formalities finished, Reeves spoke again. "Sir, I've got knuckle-grinders handling C.I.C, we made an emergency jump and I have no clue where we are. I'm sorry Sir."
The Admiral forced himself to his feet despite the protests of the doctor and summoned, "Mr. Lapointe, front and center." A tall dark lanky figure grabbed a piece of scrap for a makeshift crutch and came over. "Mr Lapointe, meet Captain Reeves. I want you to work with him to assess our situation." The doctor interjected that Lapointe's leg needed attention. Hallis dismissed him saying he was moving and he was needed in C.I.C, that the doctor could concern himself with the hundreds of others, assessing who could resume duties. As if to emphasize his point, the light was restored. With nothing left to say, Lapointe and Reeves started for CIC. But the Admiral called after them, "Captain Reeves, there is one thing I forgot, that I had better do now, in case I don't get the chance later." With this the Captain stopped, turned and faced the Admiral.
The Admirals voice bellowed out, "ATTENTION!!!" Reeves found himself facing the survivors of the Poseidon. Some where standing, some were on the ground and weren't sure what to do but at that moment they were all saluting him and the impact of what he and his people accomplished struck him. Perhaps in a lessor situation a tear of pride might have rolled down his cheek but Reeves became stoic. So he returned and went back to work.
It was a simple conclusion that no one aboard the Argus wanted to admit. The Poseidon was destroyed by a handful of raiders and all facts concluded that the rest of the fleet had suffered similar. Regardless of what the crew might choose to believe, the war was probably over and the colonial fleet lost. Admiral Hallis addressed the crew; he made it clear that he believed the enemy got lucky and it was just a matter of time before they were back into the fight. But Reeves remained realistic and under his breath mumbled "There is no such thing as luck when you're the one holding all the cards." Only Major Assuras and Chief Forester, whom were standing either side of him, over-heard his comment but neither gave even a whisper of acknowledgment.
It was luck that aided the colonials. It resided with them because of courage, daring and unorthodox thinking. For the new crew of the Argus, death and certain defeat had been turned into a fighting chance. But without food or other resources, finding good fortune would demand everyone push their limits.