Disclaimers in Part One. Remember: REVIEWS equals MORE FANFIC!
For those still wondering:
English dialogue is not bolded.
Colonial dialogue is bolded.
Italicized dialogue indicates voices coming over the wireless.
An enormous (Mercury-class Battlestar sized) thanks to my beta reader Pam Barker, who has given me the needed kick in the pants to give this my all from the start. And thanks also to everyone who has written in so far; you're what keeps this story going!
THE LONG ROAD HOME
Book I: Promised Land
Part 10
1849 Hours GMT
2.35 Astronomical Units (AUs) from Sol
202.5 Million Kilometers from Earth orbit
Black Wing Patrol
"Keep it sharp, people. Remember we've got a full sky up here today." Greyhound's voice over the wireless betrayed no emotion he might be feeling right then. Starbuck let out a nervous breath and consciously focused expressly upon the on-board AEGIS and her HUD.
Over half the Olympus' air wing was currently circling the Nemesis in a very wide pattern right then, requiring some fairly creative airspace coordination and control on the Terran's part given their patrol pattern was a good two thousand kilometers out.
The message was as clear to the Nemesis as if Secretary Richards had broadcast it in the clear. Tigh had been accommodating and had promised to keep his own planes grounded but on-deck. The unspoken promise was that if he even suspected something amiss, he'd launch his raiders and rain fire on everything in sight.
This left Starbuck feeling perversely relieved. Clearlythe one-eyed former bane of her existence hadn't lost all of his rough edges.
"All Wings, Olympus Actual,"Commander Avery-Hunter's flat voice filtered through the wireless. "We are in final countdown. Jump event in thirty seconds."
Starbuck had to consciously keep herself from responding, refocusing once more on her instruments and holding her control stick in a white-knuckle grip.
"Starbuck, Greyhound."
"Acknowledged."
"You okay there, boss?"
"Fine. Copasetic. An' I'm not your boss, Greyhound." She knew she didn't sound the slightest bit convincing but there was nothing else for it.
Avery-Hunter's voice piped up again. "Jump event in ten...nine...eight...seven...six...five...four..."
Starbuck tuned him out and counted the rest to herself. "Three...two...one...jump."
Everything went still.
Then came the telltale flashes of FTL jumps, over two dozen literally one atop the other. Yet Starbuck had no difficulty counting them out. "Twenty-five...twenty-six...twenty-seven...twenty-eight...twenty-nine..."
"Starbuck, Olympus Actual."
"Acknowledged, Actual."
"Switch to Band 514.7."
"Band 514.7, acknowledged." She quickly did a manual reset to her comms, feeling herself go completely cold at the voice she heard next.
"...are reading over thirty small spacecraft in orbit around us, Nemesis. Please explain."
"These aircraft from a defense force native to this star system, and are on a wide patrol to ensure no threat emerges at our arrival, Sir," Helo's voice replied calmly. "I'll allow their on-board representative to explain further."
White noise filled her ears for an eternity before Admiral Rice's voice piped in. "This is Admiral Theodore Rice of the Terran Defense Fleet. May I know who I am addressing?"
"This is Admiral William Adama of the Battlestar Galactica."
"My greetings, Admiral Adama."
More white noise.
"And mine to you, Admiral Rice." Colonel Thrace let herself imagine for just a moment what an uproar the CIC must have been in right then. She idly wondered who was serving as the Old Man's XO these days…
"Admiral Rice. I trust Commander Tigh has explained our…situation…sufficiently?"
"I and my superiors are aware you are refugee fleet seeking save haven, Sir. I should inform you a senior civilian representative is in the area. I should allow him to speak further on this." Rice paused, switching to English. "Anyone listening on this Band, clear grid-reference Bravo-nine-eleven for jump insertion."
Greyhound's voice broke in. "Colonel, we're directed…"
"Clear Bravo-nine-one-one. I heard, I heard. Vipers modify heading to Delta-four-fourteen on my mark…now." The six Vipers of Black Wing executed a sharp turn to port and relative south. They continued for fifty kilometers on this heading when their instruments registered the momentary disruption of yet another FTL jump directly behind them, heralding the arrival of the Olympus. It was an odd, apparently unique quirk to Terran jump engines that they would play momentary havoc with the on-boards of other ships in the immediate vicinity of an arrival point.
"Everybody okay?" Starbuck queried once her instruments cleared, not waiting to hear her wingmates respond. She instead took a fortifying breath and looked upwards through her cockpit (something she'd consciously refused to do to this point).
She recognized nearly every vessel in immediate sight, but had eyes solely for the massive and battle-scarred shape that nearly dwarfed the rest. Even from the distance, she could easily make out the name on its launch pod:
ΓΑΛΑΚΤΙΚΑ
Her mind translated her native alphabet without pause:
GALACTICA
It felt so surreal, so distant to her right then, Colonel Kara Thrace almost missed the next words that came over the wireless. Words she herself had helped compose, barely a year ago.
"This is Secretary of State Benjamin Richards. I am addressing the people of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol from aboard the Battlestar Olympus, which has just jumped into your vicinity. On behalf of the Secretariat of the United Nations, which I serve, and the many peoples it represents, I offer you the heartfelt greetings on behalf of our home planet...known to you as well as us...as Earth.
"Welcome home."
End of Book I
To be Continue in Book II: The Summit of Pisgah
Author's parting words: No, this isn't the end of the story; quite the reverse. And yes, I'm going address the many questions, concerns, and seeming contradictions (all of them deliberate, I might add) you've seen throughout Book I. Hopefully I've sufficiently whetted your appetite you'll stick around to see what comes next.
Until next time…