Note: This story takes place at the same time as Part Three of THE DARKEST REALM by Kevin Hallesy.
PROLOGUE
On the Command Base Star hovering over Caprica, Number One was going through all of the battle reports from the recent war. This was part of the effort in trying to positively identify the human warship that had been doing such an annoying job of destroying Cylon facilities without letting on it's identification. While Number Eleven had done a commendable job of narrowing down the field of suspects, there had to be something else that they were missing. So, she was going through the reports, hoping to come up with the sometimes amazing quality called 'human intuition'. She was now looking at the records from the task force that had laid in ambush at Borallis.
She nodded to herself as she read about the confirmed destruction of six battlestars that had attempted to escape and regroup at Borallis, but then she frowned some as she read about a seventh battlestar that had sustained very heavy hits - hits that would have assured it's destruction - but only very small traces of wreckage could be found from it. An identification of the battlestar could not be made owing to the dearth of debris, and the long range that it had been engaged at, though the lack of firepower coming from the battlestar indicated that it had suffered at least a partial shutdown from their computer shutdown routines. The battle computer's conclusion: highly probable destruction.
Putting down the Borallis report, Number One looked out at the star-field. It was this type of information that was so annoying. SHOULD have been destroyed, HIGHLY PROBABLE destruction. The less-than-expected debris field just did not back up those conclusions. What if that seventh battlestar was one of the renegades that had survived, despite all of the evidence to the contrary, she thought? The fact though that this incident had occurred around the time of the destruction of Molecay Anchorage pointed to the conclusion that this 'probable' could not be the one that is somewhere out there in deep space causing all this damage, but there was more than just one unconfirmed destroyed warship, and the disappearance of Valhalla Station could only have been possible by the assistance of at least one large FTL-capable ship like a battlestar.
This was one of the times where Number One had wished that the initial attack had not been so successful. The total destruction of the three principal colonial fleet yards meant that verification of the destruction of warships that had been there at the time could not be done. Until the humans on Valhalla Station had made their escape, and the recent events in the Vardon Sector, she could have believed that the GALACTICA was all that was left of the once-vaunted Colonial Military. Now, what looked like other survivors of the fleet was striking back at them using classic guerilla tactics. Those tactics had demanded a revising of their policy, and following Number Eleven's advice, they decided not to let this other group distract them from finding and destroying the GALACTICA and the convoy of refugees, as a primary goal of guerilla warfare was to detract their foes from completing their tasks.
There was a problem with this policy though: the decision to concentrate on the GALACTICA meant that their ignoring the others allowed them total freedom of movement, and that meant the possibility of more damage being inflicted upon their assets, but given the certain information - or lack of it - that they had, it was the most methodical option that they had. Certainties, rather than probabilities governed Cylon thinking and the certainty of the GALACTICA and the other ships with that battlestar made it the prime target.
Despite the bulk of the forces at her disposal hunting down the GALACTICA, Number One still wanted to find some trace of the others. She hoped that the traps being set up with other humanoid Cylons posing as survivors would finally provide some clues as to who those other fleet survivors are, and their final location. Once that was done, then the far superior forces at her disposal would quickly eliminate them. She looked at the printout of suspect battlestars from the active list of Colonial warships: PROMETHEUS, PEGASUS, ITHACA - though the latter was not deemed battle-worthy, and the older battlecruisers that could have escaped: AVENGER, COURAGEOUS, and GOLIATH. It had to be one or more of those six, she thought. Well, one day, they would be found, but until then...
Chapter One: Catching up with the mail - and other things.
Commander Garris Cain was taking some time off relaxing in his cabin (for a change). He had left Captain Sanders in charge in CIC while he and Colonel Geoff Tolen took advantage of this quiet time in order to catch some rest. The PEGASUS was currently 'idling' between star systems here in the Promar Sector for the purpose of getting some needed minerals extracted from some nearby asteroids. Given the uncertainty of resupply in this remote part of space, any opportunity to get raw materials needed to keep the battlestar functioning needed to be taken full advantage of.
So, while Sanders had dispatched some prospecting shuttles to extract those needed minerals, and Captain Syke had dispatched fighter cover, Cain had just sat down in an easy-chair and was ready to pick up a book to read, when he noticed a flashing icon on his desk comm screen. Standing up and walking over to his desk, he activated the icon. It turned out to be recently delivered mail relayed from the Communications Department.
With the outbreak of war, the Comms people had to prioritize on military communications, and intercepting/decoding of enemy wireless traffic, thus the 'routine' mail had to be shunted aside for expediency's sake. Now that things had quieted down some, the Comms people had finally found the time to take care of the backlog and finally 'deliver the mail' to the crew. Cain noticed that one of the pieces of mail for him was from an old friend. Dated two weeks before the outbreak of hostilities, it had finally found it's way to his in-box - albeit two months late. Shaking his head over that, he activated the 'READ' facility.
The message read: "Hello Cain, you old War Dog. T.J. 'Trigger' Flinn here. Yes I'm still stuck on this rock in orbit over Taura. The GAUNTLET is supposed to be ready for launch again in about 3 weeks. I'll be happy to put some space under my butt again. This new Exec, Matthew 'Hawkeyes' Hawke Fleet sent me seems a capable officer. He's even been through ATT at Picon H.Q. Not bad for a young guy. He makes me feel old just to look at him".
Cain smiled, recognizing the 'unique' punctuation of Flinn's writing. He read on:
They brought in a Battlecruiser last month for decommissioning. The GOLIATH. Fine looking ship for a Old War hold over. The Militech Corporation bought it and it looks like its scrap for her. Yard master says they'll get to that after they finish my GAUNTLET. Until then she's going to sit on the polar side in the original shipyards. I Like to go for walks over there because they keep a nice bunch of Ole Mark II Vipers there. They don't need to make the GALACTICA a frakking museum, that part of the yard already is. Almost wish they would let the GAUNTLET retire and give me that Cruiser. Remember old 'Geek' Granger? That Chief could make a sky truck jump from here to Carillon with a spanner and some wire I swear. Anyway give Geek a week or two at the GOLIATH and I bet it could give that Luxury liner you serve on a run for its cubits. With all these delays I'm afraid I won't be able to meet you and old 'Husker' at the decommissioning ceremony next week. Was looking forward to opening this bottle of ambrosia with you two. Perhaps when the GALACTICA gets back we can get together at the 'Golden Arrow' Club in Caprica City. Until then, 'Renegade', watch your six! Signed Commander Flinn. Task Force Seven. Tarturas.
Cain had a high regard for Flinn's forthrightness, as it suited his own temperament. Flinn seemed to have forgotten though that he had not been intending to visit Adama at the decommissioning of the GALACTICA, due to their 'gentleman's agreement' - made so many years ago when they were young viper pilots, so he had remained on board the PEGASUS for the duration of the CRIMSON NOVA Fleet Exercise, which was held at the same time as the GALACTICA decommissioning. It was only very shortly after the PEGASUS had detached herself from 'The Fifth Fleet' - one of the temporary creations of CRIMSON NOVA - at the end of the exercise that the Cylons had commenced their attack. Reading this letter was somewhat melancholic, given all that had happened since it was written. The Cylon attack had killed all of their old hopes and dreams. It all seemed eons ago rather than the two months that... suddenly, he read through it again. The GOLIATH. That was one of the ships on the Cylon's 'suspect list' of fleet survivors. Could it be...?
He stopped thinking emotively and willed himself to be rational over this. The GOLIATH may well be the surviving warship giving the Cylons hell back at the remnants of the Colonies, but it could be another warship: the Battlestar PROMETHEUS was still unaccounted for, as well as the Battlestar ITHACA, Battlecruiser COURAGEOUS, and the Battlecruiser AVENGER. If T.J. Flinn was indeed alive, then he knew that the Cylons would not be having a pleasant stay back on the Twelve Worlds...
Cain wondered about what was going on with that particular group of survivors, and the current disposition of Valhalla Station. He had earlier asked Chief Engineer Thyssen about jump requirements for a station the size of Valhalla. Thyssen had said: "Technically. It would take 2 or preferably 3 full size capital ships to power Valhalla's jump engines. The intelligence intercepts stated that there were only two cutters at Valhalla Station at the time. A jump could work with the two cutters, if a capital ship like a battlecruiser or battlestar was there as well, but definitely nothing less than that would be able to do it otherwise". Could that other ship be the GOLIATH? Cain could imagine Flinn and Granger pulling off something like that.
Cain shrugged and stood up from his desk, stretching. Speculating about possibilities was not an overly constructive thing to do, though. If further intelligence comes up, then perhaps it will all make sense. Until then, the best thing to do was to keep the PEGASUS space-worthy and battle-worthy until they could locate the GALACTICA and the convoy of refugees that she was protecting. He made a note to himself to check on Captain Sanders' deciphering efforts later on.
The group of PEGASUS personnel doing the ore extracting on the asteroid were also doing their best to help the PEGASUS stay in the fight. While Carla Halley's Spar One Squadron were flying cover for the various shuttles down on the surface of the mineral-rich asteroid, Chief Krag and several volunteers from the support crew complement were doing the actual extracting.
"I sure wish that whoever had designed these pressure suits also came up with a way to wipe away perspiration" one of the petty officers grumbled over the communicator. She had just finished extracting a core sample from a potentially rich lode of exotic metals, and had moved the ore to a receptacle for semi-refining.
"Well, you did volunteer after all", Krag replied. He was down there on the surface helping get a mass-driver set up. When the ore was extracted and semi-refined, the mass-driver would be used to fling it into space, where it would be caught by other shuttles in space near the PEGASUS. They had a huge 'net' strung up between them which would catch the incoming ore. Once enough had been obtained, then the 'netted' minerals would be flown back to the PEGASUS for finishing the refining process.
"I'm not complaining about that, Chief", the petty officer said, "I'll take any excuse to EVA. The PEGASUS can get a little claustrophobic after a while".
"Try being in a viper cockpit for several hours at a time", a new voice said over the comm. Krag smiled and shook his head. Seems that a certain pilot had been eavesdropping.
"Probe Leader, this is Chief Prospector", Krag communicated to Halley, "with all due respect, you do your job, and we'll do ours. You fighter pukes couldn't lift anything heavier than a joystick, so please let us tough guys do the dirty work, okay?", he finished with a laugh.
Halley laughed back. She knew that Krag had a high regard for the pilots, but banter like this would always occur.
Not far from the asteroid, another flight of vipers was helping fly cover, though farther out from Halley's squadron. LT jg Matt Higgins was flying lead for the training flight of midshipmen. His crash course was nearly finished and the nine 'snotties' were performing well. He had asked Captain Eugene 'Bojay' Syke if his training cadre could help with the fighter coverage for the prospecting mission as it was not deemed hazardous - being so far out in deep space - and that the midshipmen could start getting some operational time under their belts.
"Sounds good to me, Rogue". Syke had replied. Soon, all of them would be getting their wings and their field commissions, then once they were assigned to their squadrons, then Higgins would be able to return to Spar One Squadron to take up the X.O. slot once more.
"Chief Krag is getting a little sure of himself, isn't he, Theta Leader?", one of the midshipmen asked. They had heard the interchange between Halley and Krag over the communicator.
"Theta Flight, switch to inter-patrol frequency", Higgins replied. Once the midshipmen had all done so, Matt spoke to them in a friendly tone.
"Okay, Snotties", Matt said, "First, Chief Krag does not mean anything untoward. He has a very high regard for anyone who wears the VIPER patch and puts his or her life on the line every day. Second, Both Lt. Halley and Chief Krag are good friends and as long as it does not interfere with their respective jobs, there's no problem. Remember what I said about formality having no place out here", he finished.
"Understood...Rogue", the midshipman replied. Some of the other midshipmen chuckled while others gasped at what one of their own had called Theta Leader.
"Okay, Okay", Higgins replied with a chuckle of his own, "I guess I had that one coming. You all have done well in this program. Dyer would have been proud of all of you and I know that both Bojay and Sheba are proud of you as well". The midshipmen fell quiet, thinking about the recent death of Michelle Dyer back in the last system during the attack on the Cylon listening post.
Higgins continued, "It's still supposed to be a secret, but the Commander will be putting his signature on your field commissions in a day or so, then you'll be getting your wings and ensign bars, but remember that when you join your squadrons, to always rely on your squadron commander, and your wingman. Now let's resume the patrol. The sooner we finish up, the sooner you'll cease to be snotties and start being rooks".
Back on board the PEGASUS, Silver Spar CAG Captain Eugene Syke had decided to have Lt. Tricia Cain monitor the wing while he took a break himself - rank did have some privileges and passing the buck to his deputy while goofing off for an hour or so was one of them. He headed back to his cabin for a quick shower and a change of uniform - he would have preferred the class 'c' utility uniform as it was the most comfortable, but as Commander Cain had insisted that the senior officers of the PEGASUS look the part - which for him meant he could only get away with wearing the class 'b' semi-formal garb - his personal preference was not an option. It was just like Cain not to let a little thing like a holocaust get in the way of military discipline, he grumbled...
After getting changed, he headed over to his cabin monitor and noticed a flashing icon indicating mail. Syke sat down and looked at the menu. All of it was personal mail which had been written and dispatched before the outbreak of the war, and had only now found it's way to the recipients. He scanned through the list. One made him laugh: it was a formal notification of random selection of tax audit from the Colonial Internal and External Revenue Service. Before the war, CIERS was an organization to fear, but for some reason he didn't seem to care about the notice - maybe because CIERS had ceased to exist when the colonies fell to the Cylon juggernaut. The old maxim of the only sure thing being death and taxes had at least been proved fifty percent wrong in this case.
Another message caught his eye. It was a letter from an old friend of his: Captain Logan Masters. Syke knew 'Dragon' well. An excellent test-pilot whom he had met when he had been on TDY to the viper transition training unit on Picon, Masters was the closest competition to Lt. Kara 'Starbuck' Thrace in the unofficial title of 'best instructor'.
The letter read: Hey, Bojay. Thought I'd drop you a quick line to let you know that I had finally heard about your promotion to CAG on the PEGASUS. Belated congratulations, as I've been rather busy as of late. It must be a real change from the old AUSTRALIS and when we were both instructors at viper transition. Anyway, I've been given lots and lots of flight test assignments which have really kept me busy, thanks to the ATT credentials. I've now spent so much time on flight test, this cockpit is more my home than my house on Caprica. but that's the way the cubits topple, I suppose.
Syke smiled. Logan Masters was a person who had ambitions about being a Commander one day, but his true talents had always lain in being a pilot. He also knew that after his own return to the Battlestar AUSTRALIS, Masters had moved on from Viper Transition to the prestigious Advanced Tactical Training School - and graduated, so whatever he was doing on detached service to the Militech Corporation to make sure he and his fellow pilots would fly the very best was not only important, but a sacrifice on Masters part. He read on.
My current Bird is involved with a high-security munitions test project at the Cimtar range, so unfortunately, I can't discuss it with you as it's still on the classified list, but hopefully soon, I can give you all the juicy details. Anyway, I'd better get back to work, so I'll end this communication. Say hi to Matt Higgins for me and tell him that I still think his beating me on the ATT Graduates List was a frakking fluke. I know that Silver Spar Wing has a great CAG. Logan.
Syke sat back, thinking about Matt's letter. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he went back through it again. The classified test-piloting program. Could it be? He keyed his communicator. "Razor? Bojay. Please report to my office", he said. After getting the acknowledgment, Syke clicked off his communicator. Three minutes later, there was a knock on his cabin door. Syke said "Come", and the door opened to reveal Razor, aka. Ensign Tyree Dutch.
"Come on in, Razor", Syke said, "take a seat".
As Dutch sat down in the indicated chair, Syke swung his chair around to face him.
"I hope you're not requesting the readiness reports on the new RSO rooks, CAG", Dutch said, "They're only half-way done and I was under the impression that they were not due until tomorrow".
"It's not that, Razor", Syke replied, "I want to know - off the record - if the Peregrine program that you were briefly in on involved a captain named Logan Masters".
"Dragon?", Dutch replied. Syke nodded.
"He was the chief test pilot for the program. Why do you ask?", Dutch said. Syke handed him a printout of Masters' letter. Dutch's eyes widened as he read it.
"It must be...he must be alive!", Dutch said with a broad grin, "With the reference in the letter to Cimtar, the date of this letter, plus the fact that a Peregrine is giving the tin-heads a hard time, it would have to be him. Besides, only ATT grads would be that aggressive!", he finished.
"What about Cimtar?", Syke asked.
"The fleet yards were reported destroyed by our scouts on the final recon before we headed to Molecay. The Peregrine that's still intact would have had to have been at Cimtar doing the weapons evaluation part of the flight program for it to survive. Dragon and his co-pilot - can't remember her name but her call-sign was 'Witch' - were the only ones on the assessment team cleared to do the live firing tests. After I first gave information on the Peregrine to the X.O. and the Old Man, I checked back on the calendar. I remembered that the final weapons tests were due to take place on the day of the attack, which means if they were carried out, Dragon would be flying it".
Syke replied, "I'm going to pass this information along to the Old Man. This might come in handy. Anyway, I do hope you're right. Logan Masters is a good friend of mine, and I know how good a pilot he is: almost as good as Starbuck", he said. Dutch smiled at the reference to the notorious Lt. Thrace. Syke continued, "Anyway, thanks for letting me know what he did, Razor. If I or the Old Man need any further information on the Peregrine Program or Cimtar, make yourself available, okay?"
Dutch nodded, stood, then left with a smile. Syke couldn't help but smile as well. Logan Masters: Peregrine pilot! Give the tin-heads hell, Dragon, he thought to himself as he prepared to read some more of the overdue mail.
Over in the other landing bay, Captain Lance Voight wanted to give some of his pilots hell as he read the latest performance reports of the three squadrons that made up Black Knight Wing. Voight knew as well as his counterpart at Silver Spar - Syke - that viper pilots were a temperamental bunch at the best of times, and so it was important to keep them on a loose leash. But for some reason, their overall performance had dropped down seven percent since the attack at the Cylon outpost in the Anotian Sector. True, they had lost more pilots than Syke's wing, but that could not explain it. He decided to call in his three squadron commanders and see what they could offer.
"So what do you make of this, Jankers?", he asked the commander of Knight Two Squadron, Lieutenant Cynthia 'Jankers' Brady. Of all of the senior staff in the wing, Brady was the most intuitive. Voight was seriously considering appointing her his deputy CAG, but had hesitated because finding a suitable pilot to command Knight Two would not be easy.
"It all boils down to that the pilots in Knight Two just don't feel at home on the PEGASUS, Pointer", Brady replied, using Voight's call-sign. That was a telling point in itself. Somewhat more militaristic than Syke, Voight did not like anyone below his rank to address him with anything other than 'CAG', 'Captain', or 'Sir'. Brady knew this.
"Unfortunately, our base ship got wasted at Caprica, Jankers", Voight replied sarcastically, "and there seems to be a dearth of battlestars to base the wing on at the moment, so we had all better get used to the PEGASUS as our home base!", he concluded with a snarl.
"Easy, CAG", Brady replied with her hands up and palms out, "I'm only letting you know what the pilots think. They have heard about the possibility of another warship surviving back at the colonies and they prefer going back to fight it out with the tin-heads instead of running away on a wild goose chase".
"You're lucky Commander Cain didn't hear you make that crack", Voight admonished, "and Cain does not run. We will be going back home to fight, but to have any chance of success, we will need the GALACTICA to be with us when we do so. That's the game plan, and I agree with it".
"So what do we do about the low morale, CAG?", Lieutenant Leonard 'Citgo' Tate - the commander of Knight One squadron - asked.
"I'm strongly tempted to loan them out to the prospecting teams under Chief Krag", Voight replied, "or have them pull extra maintenance duty under Chief Brubaker", he said, referring to the PACIFICA Crew Chief that had been one of the maintenance staff evacuated to the PEGASUS before the Cylons took out the PACIFICA. Needless to say, the assembled squadron commanders were not too enthusiastic about what their CAG had hinted at...
"It wouldn't be so bad if we got the same breaks as Silver Spar, CAG...", Tate started to say, but the look on Voight's face cut him off.
"We are not in a popularity contest, Citgo", Voight quietly replied, "We are involved in something a little more important - like the survival of our race. Silver Spar Wing has also taken losses, as you well know. Captain Syke values our presence here, and I value his. End of debate".
"We still need to decide what to do about the wing morale, CAG", Brady reminded everyone present.
"I'll sleep on it, and let you all know soon",Voight replied, "but you'd better get back to your squadron, Jankers. They're still sitting in their fighters on launch standby and they're probably wondering why you're not back there by now". Brady nodded and left the briefing room. The other commanders got the hint and followed Brady out.
Shaking his head, Voight stood up and headed out himself. Officially, he was going to go down to the hangar deck and talk to Chief Brubaker about the Wing maintenance schedule, but he also wanted to get a viewpoint of this morale problem from the enlisted point of view, and Voight trusted Brubaker implicitly.
Voight had taken a transporter down to the main maintenance bay on the hangar deck and walked over to where some vipers had just finished getting serviced. He looked at the underside of one viper where a maintenance technician was working on one of the missile racks. He lightly coughed, getting the tech's attention. The tech was Brubaker himself.
"Hey, CAG", Brubaker said as he saw Voight peering down at him. Voight liked the fact that Brubaker never hesitates to get his hands dirty keeping the wing going.
"Got a minute, Bru?", Voight asked. Brubaker nodded, stood, and followed Voight as he slowly walked down the length of the deck. Both conversed in quiet tones.
"I'm happy with the way that you and the other techs are keeping our clunkers flying, Bru", Voight said first, "the pilots really appreciate it. I appreciate it too".
"Somehow, Lance. I don't think you would walk all the way down to here just to pay a compliment, but thanks anyway", Brubaker replied with a restrained smile. Voight snorted. Brubaker was the only person in his wing who could freely call him by his first name.
"You're right, Bru", Voight replied, "The fighters are not the problem. It's the pilots. Morale is not good and I want to get your view on it".
Brubaker nodded. He had noticed the recent lethargy of the pilots. It was not serious - yet, but this type of thing had to be tackled before it was too late. Too many lives were at stake.
"It's an inferiority complex", Brubaker said frankly, "Mainly a different battlestar after our first one was destroyed with a lot of friends, and the feeling that we're only supporting Silver Spar Wing". Voight nodded.
"That's what they are thinking, but you and I both know that this is not the case", Voight replied.
"True, CAG", Brubaker concurred, "and I keep close contact with Chief Krag and his boys the same way as you keep in touch with Captain Syke. But a lot of your pilots are not overly experienced and it's gonna take time for them to settle in".
"Unfortunately, time is a commodity we don't really have a surplus of, Bru. That's the trouble", Voight pointed out, Aand if the wing is not at it's best when it needs to be, then it augers badly for all of us on board the PEGASUS. Not just the pilots".
"I know that you're scheduling your squadrons to fly on the same patrol schedules as Silver Spar's squadrons, CAG", Brubaker said slowly, "but something else must be done to show the wing that they are not playing a secondary role. Maybe you should confer with Commander Cain or Colonel Tolen on this", he suggested.
Voight nodded. He knew that he was doing all that he could to keep the wing at optimum, but perhaps a more active interest from the PEGASUS command staff would provide a good boost to wing morale, he thought. Nodding to Brubaker, Voight then headed off the deck. Brubaker watched him leave, then he headed back to his servicing task. Keeping vipers flying was a constant struggle, even with George Krag assisting with parts...