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 Post subject: Episode 11: Kappa Crucis
PostPosted: Fri Aug 04, 2006 11:41 pm 
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“In a time of great prosperity...

A host of serpents shall unleash a great plague of death upon mankind at the behest of the evil one.

Most will die, but the survivors shall band together and wander in the wilderness for many years.

They shall flee the home of the Lords, and not find sanctuary again until they travel to the land of the one true God”.


-- The Prophet Kappa Crucis, from Colonial scripture


Image

..
Harvest Moon
Day 32 T1400
Level One Habitat Area

Andy Peterson stood near one of the large observation windows on board the Harvest Moon, nervously watching the fleet of ships. Members of the skeleton crew surrounding him were listening in on the Civilian wireless traffic, constantly keeping everyone informed as soon as they received updates.

It sounded as though they had prevailed once again… this time by the barest of margins. Cylons had boarded the Astral Dawn, and there was absolutely no trace of the Outpost he had spent a good portion of his life helping to design and then lived aboard. He had already lost the Kelviksen’s – two people he had seen every day for as long as he could remember – and then they were just so suddenly gone. It had scared the living daylights out of him, and provided yet another grim reminder that even tucked away out here amongst the stars he was not safe.

Andy had never felt so vulnerable in his life, and he could see the same emotions felt by other people just by observing their faces as they passed him. Even the bubbly brunette computer technician that had shuttled over with their antenna dishes had gone quiet – she was standing next to one of the other windows, staring out at the stars and probably thinking about the same things he was.

The brilliant flashes and explosions from yet another space battle had long since faded away, but Peterson still didn’t feel safe. He tried to remember what it felt like to be warm and secure and comfortable – like the off-shift time on Outpost 29 when he had lay there in his quarters reading a good book – and found that he couldn’t remember just now. For over a month he had spent every day with that awful feeling in the pit of his stomach that simply refused to go away – the one that left him wondering just how long they could keep one step ahead of the Cylons and thus avoid a quick death.

“Are you all right, Mr. Peterson?”

He turned at the question, smiling wanly at the elderly man who had expressed concern.

“I’m okay Mr. Vou…” he said with more optimism than he felt.

“Don.”

“I’m okay – Don,” he said, smiling with some relief at the man’s reassuring attitude. “I’ll call you Don if you call me Andy.” He shook his head. “I guess I still don’t understand why you asked me to come over here, but seeing as how Outpost 29 failed to complete its planned FTL jump I guess I should be grateful.”

“But you’re not,” guessed Vou.

“That’s right,” Andy replied. “I can’t help thinking about my friends.” He paused, a surge of thoughts and ideas racing through his mind faster than he could process them. “I also can’t stop thinking about the miniscule number of people who are barely surviving in this fleet… more of whom have died today.” He sighed heavily and looked at the friendly man with a questioning glance. “What will things be like six months from now… or a year? Will we even be here?”

Chuckling, Donald motioned for Andy to follow him. The older man from the Hades Horn led him along a dirt path toward a field of recently plowed soil and pointed toward the ground. The dirt looked fresh and he could tell there was moisture in it – but other than that it looked completely lifeless.

“What?” Andy asked curiously. “This is just a bunch of dirt.”

Vou shook his head in disagreement. “A couple of days ago this entire level of the Harvest Moon had a hull breech that vented its atmosphere into space. We’ve only had power back on for awhile but already there is life here again.” He reached down toward a particular spot he had his eye on and picked up a handful of soil. Showing it to Peterson, he watched the man’s surprised expression.

“Ants!” said Andy with wonder. “You’ve got ants here!”

“That’s correct,” grinned Vou. “There were eggs ready to hatch here and on some of the other decks that didn’t lose atmosphere, even though the temperature had dropped on this vessel well below freezing. The coldness and isolation of space was just another winter to them… as soon as we restored a warmer temperature and stirred up the soil these fascinating, hard working creatures began setting up their underground farms again much faster than we have been able to rebuild above ground.”

“They’re just ants,” Peterson decided.

“They are part of the miracle that is life,” Vou pointed out. “The Cylons may be able to kill us and take away our homes, but they do not understand or appreciate the miracle of a living creature. All they have done is destroy things, and just as the ants have survived so shall we.”
“You seem pretty sure about that.”

Donald laughed proudly. “I have not spent years alone with six others on a secluded space station the way you have,” he commented with a laugh. “During our flight from the Colonies, we have – on multiple occasions – encountered evidence that others have survived and also fled.” He shrugged his shoulders and continued to maintain his peaceful expression. “I guess I simply have faith that we are like the ants… the Cylons have temporarily reduced us in number but we will continue to spread to other areas and multiply anew.”

Why did you ask for me to come here?” Andy asked him.
Vou put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come and let us get something to eat,” he said. “It is well past my lunch time and we can discuss matters over a hearty meal. The truth is that you are an astronomer, and someone who studies celestial objects is the exact type of person that I need right now to complete a puzzle I have been working on for most of my adult life.”

“A puzzle huh? Just so you know, I’m pretty good at puzzles.”

“This one has proven to be much tougher than most. For now, suffice it to say that there may already be other ‘ant farms’ of humans in this galaxy – at least one such place I am convinced does exist. But I need your help to find its location.”

“How can you be so certain of that?”

“My father fought in the first Cylon war,” Vou said informatively as they walked along the lengthy trail leading toward one of the personnel elevators. “His father – my grandfather – began accumulating the documentation that I have. Together, until his death, he and I studied the history behind the lost 13th colony that legend says left Kobol and settled on a planet called Earth.”

Andy shook his head slowly. “Earth is a brief fable in a few of our scriptures,” he objected. “There has never been any proof – beyond the distant claims of our ancient prophets – that another group of humans actually does exist.” He paused in mid-step and glanced curiously at Vou. “You have documentation?”

“Oh yes,” Donald Vou told him. “I had the shuttle pilot from the Hades Horn stop by my quarters before he brought you over.” He paused and smiled with that mysterious smile of his that was already frustrating to Andy. “Let us have something to eat first… then we can discuss Earth.”

Image Image
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Last edited by SonOfTed on Sat Aug 05, 2006 10:46 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 12:39 am 
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[With GoldWolf]

Outpost 29
Day 32
Time 1400
Cpl Francois Laffitte

He sat by the bunk, watching her laying there, small and serene, her eyes closed, her arms straight down her sides. It wasn't right! Alexandra's hands were always moving, always holding stuff! Even when she was sick with the flu, she was animated, lively, almost... incandescent!

He closed his eyes, reliving the first few moments after he brought her limp body in. When he first relaized all was NOT right with her. He'd thought she had fainted, but when he took off her helmet, he noticed her unnatural pallor - her lips were blue and her skin! Her smooth, lovely, rosy skin was cold and pasty white...

He hastily removed her EVA suit; Razorski squatted next to her, feeling for the pulse in her neck, checking her pupils. He called to her softly, "Alexandra? Chief? Can you hear me? Wake up, ma cherie!" Razorski gave a brief shake of her head. "She can't hear you, Corporal."

He rubbed her cold lifeless limbs, trying to warm her, but Razorski stopped him. "That won't work, Laffitte." She showed him the EVA suit - it was smudged and stained, the life support systems fried from the jump.

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 1:45 am 
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1400, Day 32
Astral Dawn's Hospital

“You and your baby .. are just fine.” Doctor Arthur Egan said to Psyche D’Argent, as he jotted some notes on a chart.
“You were very lucky… both of you.” He looked at her and at Kalrk. “If no one said it, thank you for coming aboard Dawn.”

"Yes the fleet is very lucky to have Kalrk. I know there is nothing he would not do to protect it." Psy said lovingly, and with pride.

"You don't need to stroke my ego.' He said affectionately, yet there was something else in his voice too. "Right now, the last thing I want is a swelled head."

Laughing, Psy answered teasingly "Well, you should have told that to the cylon arm."
Turning to the doctor, she asked "So I’m free to go?"

“You're free to go, and you can keep those scrubs." Egan replied.

"Why did the centurion throw his arm? That is just... dumb." Kalrk commented with some amusement.

Getting up off the examination table, Psy poked Kalrk in the tummy playfully. "It took you out easily enough." She reached over and picked up the torn t-shirt and started to take off the tie in the back of the gown the doctor had provided her.

“I’ll learn from my mistake.” He said evenly. “I was wrong to endanger you and our child.” And he handed the scrubs to her. “These will fit you."

Psy wrinkled her nose up at them. “They are, well, kind of icky looking."

“They’ll be fine until we get some clothes from Mercurius. Gibbs has a room for us. I’m not in the best shape to fly.”

Psy looked at him with great affection "No indeed you’re not...getting hit in the head with a cylon arm will do that to a person."
Pausing for effect Psy then announced "You do know I asked them to keep that arm as a memento?" She said with great innocence.

“Good. It’ll remind me of my stupidity. ” He said plainly.
“Shall we head to Mercurius now?”

"Yes that would be very nice... oh and I think I’m going to get it engraved with the name ‘Kalrk's Bane’." She said as she finished putting on the scrubs.

“Thank you again, doctor.” Kalrk called out to Egan, who was now in his office adjacent to where Kalrk and Psy were.
“Maybe we should have some food.” He commented to Psy. “or we could assist with cleaning up Dawn.. and with the dead.”

"Well if I was in control of my own body I would say help out, but as I’m now in the process of being ruled by a pack of cells it demands food and sleep."
Taking hold of Kalrk’s hand she added "But once I have eaten, don't let that stop you from doing what you feel you must.”

“Very well.’ He replied. “We’ll spend tonight on Dawn.. tomorrow we’ll go back to Harvest Moon.”

"That sounds good" she answered him. "I was looking at a pamphlet in there. Apparently the baby is all of a quarter of an inch big.... can you imagine that? I admit it boggles my brain… the whole process does really." Psy rambled on, resting the hand not entwined with Kalrk’s on her abdomen, as excitement washed over her on the new information she had just read about the baby.

He stopped their walk. And still holding her hand, he faced her. "It's a miracle, Psy." he whispered. And he kissed her slowly, warmly, lovingly.

Pulling back and biting her lower lip as the emotions of it all washed over her, Psy then shared the most exciting piece of info "Apparently we can hear his heart beat in a few days with the right equipment."

"Then we'll contact every ship, to find that equipment." her excitement was his.

"We will have to get to the library here before we go back to the Moon, I want to know everything about this possible." She said, before puling him down for another kiss "But for now I need to be fed and rested."
Giving his hand a squeeze she asked "Do you think they would do room service? Cause I really am about to drop." She said with a big yawn.

"There'll be room service." he smiled.
"Do you think you can make it to Mercurius AND then to the room? Or should we go to the room, and skip the clothes?”

Not able to help the grin from ear to ear she answered "I’m all for skipping clothes...particularly yours. Why else do you think I keep destroying them?"

“Okay then.” He kissed her cheek. “To the room.”

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What if i knew that and i called your bluff?
Don't you think every kitten figures out how to get down
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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 2:06 am 
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1437, day 32
Mercurius, docked inside Astral Dawn

Kalrk entered his ship, and went to the pilot’s seat, to activate his wireless.

“Military ships. This is Kalrk in Mercurius, on Astral Dawn.
Per doctor’s orders, I am spending the night aboard Dawn. Mercurius, out.”

Let them order some other cylon to jump through their frakkin’ hoops. This one is taking the night off. he thought to himself.

Then he checked his messages.

Cardelli? From this morning? What the frak does he want? What the frak doesn’t he want?

******

D32 T0800

From: Mason Cardelli, CEO
To: Kalrk, President K Industries
Re: Fleet fuel supply

Mr. Kalrk,

I received an E-Note during the night from Captain Duke Marshall. He and his Hades Horn crew are in the process of dismantling Outpost 29. During this time, he discovered that they are running on E8.5, a solium-type fuel that is derived from super-refined tylium. Since you get twice the energy per kilo with E8.5, CCorp had plans to begin making it at the Cassiopeia mine – but as you know we never quite got that set up.

To make a long story short, that Harvest Moon of yours takes a lot of fuel to run. We here on the Necromancer have already transferred a great deal of fuel during our effort to re-supply this fleet to full capacity. I have the equipment and personnel to make E8.5 and would strongly like to do so but need more working room. One of our 8 fuel cylinders over here already has leaks that are beyond our ability to repair and we have thus converted it into a multi-story apartment complex to house some of our crew.

When I spot an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone I jump all over it and this would kill a lot of them. If you would agree to allowing us access to some of the lower levels beneath the dome on the Moon in which to set up our equipment, I would be willing to transfer 30 percent of our current fuel supply to you so that all of the fleet’s eggs aren’t in one basket… so to speak.

We need sections on the levels beneath the dome – where there isn’t any dirt. Preliminary specifications on our needs can be obtained at noon today by contacting my daughter Adrianna here on Necromancer. Don’t be surprised if we need to knock out a section of ceiling here or there – some of the equipment is quite large.

This proposal would allow you to refine E8.5 directly on your ship and put an end to your fuel problem and that of other fleet gas guzzlers in this fleet. We also would not have the entire fleet’s fuel supply stored on one ship, and your cooperation would assist me in downplaying all of those nutjob rumors flying around that I personally am trying to take control of this fleet.

Additionally, your cooperation in this matter would allow us to empty out another fuel tank on the Necromancer and convert it into a second auxiliary living quarters for people who currently are doubling or in some cases tripling up with others. These are hard working people and they need their management to provide them with reasonable working and living conditions or their morale will drop.

This memo – and others issued by me – may at times seem a bit crude. I apologize for this, but almost all of my Administrative staff was killed in the Cylon attack so I have found myself typing up most of my own memos these days. This leaves me without my usual editor.

I look forward to discussing this matter further with you.

Sincerely,
Mason Cardelli, CEO CCorp

******

“I’ll be a sonuvabitch.” Kalrk muttered, quite stunned. “Cardelli playing nice with me?”

Kalrk hit the print button, and the memo came out on paper. Gotta show this to Psy.

Then he drafted a reply and sent it.

******

1441, day 32
To: Mason Cardelli, Necromancer
From: Kalrk, Mercurius
Re: Fleet fuel supply

Mr. Cardelli.

My apologies for the late response to your memo of this morning. I am only now reading it.

You make valid points, and I agree we should discuss at nearest convenience to us both. I have a concussion, and am aboard Astral Dawn.

Perhaps tomorrow afternoon, we can meet on Harvest Moon?

Respectfully,
Kalrk

******

He printed out a copy of his reply and tucked it and Cardelli’s memo into his flight jacket’s inside pocket.

In the living quarters of Mercurius, he packed a number of items, including some of his clean shirts and undergarments, and some of psy’s undergarments, clothes.. and bathroom items.

He sealed the hatch from the outside, before returning to their stateroom on the luxury liner.


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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 5:45 am 
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Day 32
1335 CUT
Luxury Liner Palatine

Dorian Vorenus sat up. Annika was next to him on his right. She was asleep laying on her stomach. The sheet coming up under her arms. Head facing him.

"Hey wake up." He nudged her and she awoke.

"Mmmm...what did you wake me for?" she said sleepily.

"We should get going. Mr. Exter will be finishing up his meeting soon.

Annika's eyes opened wide. "That's right. We better get ourselved ready to leave."

"So who get's the shower first?"

"Ladies first" she winked. Head still on the pillow

"Allright. We could just..."

Annika sat up. "No if we do that we'll never get out of here."

"Hmmm." Dorian laughed and said "So you say."

Annika got up and walked to the shower. At 1401 they left. And hoped their boss wasn't waiting.

"We should go back to the art room next time we're here." Annika said.

"So there's a next time?" Dorian said with a smile.

"What? You thought I was done with you?"

"No...just don't think something's are granted until they are."

"That's good advice." Annika thought a little. "We haven't been to the pool either. Something for next time.

"Hmmm. This ship has everything."

"Yes it does." Annika said with a smile as Dorian put his arm around her.

They reached the main garden and found Robert.

Dorian spoke first. "Sorry sir. We were exploring the ship."

Surprisingly Robert didn't look displeased. "Oh that's all right Mr. Vorenus." He paused for a second and then said. "Well let's get going."

"Was your business trip a good one sir."

"A little. Not much support. Most of the people on this ship are more worried about themselves. This is taking it's toll on some more than others."

The three walked back to their shuttle.

"Checked over you shuttle Mr. Exter. Everything's fine."

"Thank you chief. Glad I could be of service. You crew looked like they needed something to do."

"Yes they did. Thanks again." The chief turned around "Allright you knuckledraggers back to work."

The shuttle lifted off and departed for Morning Angel.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Day 33
0345 CUT
Cylon Occupied Picon

Marcus couldn't sleep. He decided to get up and catalog the supplies.

He sat up. Looked at the tags next to his bed. Shannon Miles and Sam Peller. Friends of his. Now he was spooked and saddened.

"Someday I'll be just like them."

He got up and dressed in a green knuckledragger's suit. He'd found a stiching machine and had put a Fleet Headquarters patch on it. Might as well remember where he came from.

So far he had set aside:
4 Class-D Nuclear Warheads
3 pounds of G-4
2 Rocket Launchers
15 Rockets
2 Rifles
400 rounds

He laughed to himself. "This is enough for a one man army. To bad I'm not a warrior. If Julius was here he'd be able to use this stuff better."

Marcus wondered about Atlantia again. Probably destroyed. If anything survived it wouldn't be around here and wouldn't be coming back. It's not like anyone would be crazy enough to try. If there was anyone else here they would soon be annihilated like he would be.

As for the rest of his family. His moter and father were on Scopria so they were most likly dead. His sister was dead too. He didn't think the shipyard would still be there. Maybe she FTLed out somewhere and got picked up. But that was wishful thinking on his part.

Marcus hadn't bothered much with cataloging the supplies. He had what he had and they wouldn't be any different if he looked. He enjoyed the looking for what he needed until he found it. Time was on his time with that. Oh yes it was.

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Let your spoilers be dark and as impenetrable as night, and when you reveal one let it fall like a thunderbolt.


Last edited by WarAngel on Fri Dec 29, 2006 7:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 9:25 am 
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Day 32,
1635 CUT,
Perseus hangar deck

Cole stood next to the hatch leading to the corridor and watched as the shuttle's ramp was being lowered and the first passengers left the little ship.
And finally, there she was...Sarah.

How he had managed to find a woman like her still astounded Cole sometimes, even more so when she greeted him by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply.

"Hi Richard!" she grinned, still breathless, only to start berating him a moment later. "Do you know how you scared all the civilians when you threatened to destroy 'Dawn'?"

Taking her hand, Cole led her out of the hangar deck...When she's like this there's only one thing that can calm her....food.

And with a slight smirk Cole thought of the little surprise he had planned for 'his' Sarah...even though it would still have to wait for awhile....




Fleet Bulletin Board:

WANTED: Male cat to breed with my mix-breed cat. Owner will get to pick one kitten of the litter. Contact Ilka Mueller, Demeter.



To: Ilka Mueller, Demeter
From: Colonel Richard Cole, Perseus

I would be interested in one of the kittens Mrs. Mueller, and in exchange I'd offer, should you be interested, a lesson on self-defense for you and some friends....something that could come in handy in the future.

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 9:30 am 
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Outpost 29
Day 32
Time 1400

Razorski walked the rounds again on the Outpost. Most of the others on the station were resting, but she knew from experience that—for herself at least—it was better to keep moving and work out the aches and pains.

The jump had been much more debilitating than anyone could have guessed. Razorski herself wasn’t sure how much of her discomfort was the residual effects from the jump, and how much was from the injuries she’d received fighting the Centurions. She’d taken off her body armor, and Dedrick had patched up the bullet wound on the top of her shoulder. Once it was cleaned up, the pain there had subsided to a dull throb.

Not so the pain from where the cylon rounds had hit her body armor. Every breath hurt. When she’d examined the chest plate of the armor, she saw that it had stopped three rounds; lower left, mid right, and one just an inch and a half down from the top of the vest. Just slightly higher and it would have gone through her throat. Damn lucky, she thought, Guess I shouldn’t be pissed about a couple of cracked ribs. Still, she breathed very carefully.

She slowed her pace as she walked down the passageway where the crew’s quarters were, glancing into those that had the hatches open. Moreland, who appeared to be asleep; the same with Edmundson, although she wasn’t sure either of them was really sleeping.

And then Laffitte. Razorski shook her head to herself as she walked by the cabin where he sat next to Chief MacLean’s still body.

She’d taken St Germain’s and Kyriakos’ bodies to one of the cold-storage compartments in the aft of the pod; the Outpost had no provisions for a morgue. Later, they would have a service, commit the bodies to the depths of space.

She stepped over the heap of metal that had been a Centurion. They, too, needed to be moved somewhere, but they were heavy and Razorski was in no shape to move them by herself. She paused to look through the hatch porthole at the interior of the cylon assault ship, still securely attached to the Outpost’s shuttle dock. She wondered if it could be used as their escape vessel… but could they get it running without the Chief’s expertise? Even if they had her help, who knew if the technology would be familiar enough for her to figure out.

With a mental sigh, Razorski continued her circuit of the Outpost. She’d need to rest soon, herself.


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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 9:31 am 
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Outpost 29
Day 32
Time 1417

She rolled onto her side and gasped as pain shot through her body. It hurt to breathe… everything hurt. She made herself relax, willing the pain away.

He knelt by her side and held her hand, "You're awake!"

“Ahh... ahh…,” she tried to say, but all that came out was a croak.

"No! Don't speak yet. You've been through a lot..."

She opened her eyes and shut them again right away. The light was too bright.

He caressed her hair lightly, smoothing away a few strands that had fallen over her eyes. "There's something I have to tell you..."

She opened her eyes again, just a slit this time. Who was this here with her?

He kissed her lips softly, "I love you, ma petite."


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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 10:14 am 
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Code:
Hey Thorny!

It's me again!
I talked with the Colonel again about your problems with Demeters FTL-drive....and guess what?
After some lengthy discussion, the Colonel agreed that both you and "soon-to be Major again" Merconi can stay on Demeter as long as you get Terp over here for "Check-ups"!!

About a meeting, the Colonel wants me to tell you to "just come over whenever you find the time." He's here anyway...
So, when are you coming over?

Something else, have you ever heard of a Marine Gunnery Seargent Razorski? She was here some days ago, and let me put it this way, she sure left an impression with me...any words of advice?

see you soon,
Guts


D32 1703
Demeter

Code:
Hello Guts!

Any word on the Outpost?  We noticed it didn't make the jump...

Cylons permitting, Maj. Merconi and I can be on Perseus tomorrow, D33, at 0800.  Let me know if that's okay with Col. Cole.  I really appreciate your talking with him about Demeter's FTL problems and why I can't just take off and move to Perseus...

Guts, did I read right?  You've met Razorski?  THE Razorski?  Oh, that is priceless!  Yes, I know about her - hell, she's a legend!  And she's made 'an impression'?!  Oooo, Guts, you sly SOB!  We HAVE to talk when I get there.  I'll bring the coffee - the good stuff. freshly ground, not that dirt the fleet uses!

Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow.

Thorny

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 Post subject: Re: Episode 11: Kappa Crucis
PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 2:49 pm 
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Necromancer Shuttle
Day 32 T1710
Adrianna Cardelli

["This is Shuttle Four from the Necromancer,"] the pilot announced clearly. ["Requesting landing clearance on board the Demeter. I have Adrianna Cardelli on board... and one cat."]

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 Post subject: Re: Episode 11: Kappa Crucis
PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 6:52 pm 
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Necromancer Shuttle
Day 32 T1710
Adrianna Cardelli

["This is Shuttle Four from the Necromancer,"] the pilot announced clearly. ["Requesting landing clearance on board the Demeter. I have Adrianna Cardelli on board... and one cat."]


Demeter

"Cleared for landing, Necromancer Four."

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 10:55 pm 
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Harvest Moon
D32 T1425
Level One Habitat Area

Donald and Andy had eaten a quick lunch and then headed out in search of Lucy Walters. They had chatted a bit while eating and Donald had made it clear that what he needed most right now was accurate information – specifically data on interstellar celestial objects. To comply with that request Andy had directed him toward Specialist Walters, who was still inventorying the mirrored server and other computer equipment that had been removed from Outpost 29.

At first, Lucy was a bit confused as to the urgency of their request for information, but Vou had already shared with Andy some of his theories and findings. Upon finishing his lunch, he had opened the carrying case and backpack that the Hades Horn shuttle crew had brought over from his quarters there and begun reviewing the data stored on his small, laptop computer with Peterson.

Andy was a man of faith, but he had always tried to use common sense first in his decision-making process as opposed to blindly obeying rules inked on paper by people from long ago. As a young man, he had taken courses that dealt in philosophy and religion – but more so because they were required. The reading he had done was always completed with what he felt was a healthy bit of skepticism. To him, things written so long ago were undoubtedly biased by the beliefs of a people who at the time knew very little about the universe and technology. Their knowledge of the stars and their planets was quite obviously limited to what they observed in the night sky.

Vou was the complete opposite. He believed firmly in the Lords, the exodus from Kobol that eventually led to the formation of the twelve Colonies – the whole deal. What Andy also noticed about him was how much meaning he had attached to the legend of the fabled lost 13th tribe. Andy himself had only heard of Earth because of one of the classes that he had taken exploring some of the more controversial books in their scripture not as easily recognized and accepted by most people.

So Peterson stood by silently as Lucy quickly hooked up an access cable from her laptop to the computer and then fired up the mirrored server. He knew she wouldn’t have much trouble interfacing with the Outpost’s system, since it was running on pretty sophisticated software. Additionally, since Peterson and the rest of the space station’s staff had been virtually isolated out in space there was no need for the usual passwords or security protection. Most work stations were able to access pretty much anything they wanted so that the crew could work from wherever in the Outpost was most comfortable for them.

“What specifically are you looking for?” Lucy wondered. “There are hundreds of thousands of files on this thing, and it will take me forever to search through them on my own.”

Donald had been standing curiously in the background but spoke up quickly. “Specifically I’m hoping that Mr. Peterson has done research on the symbols from the older Colonial flags… particularly against star patterns in our galaxy.”

Andy harrumphed loudly. “So…” he said. “You’re one of those people believing the symbols on our flags are based on star configurations?” he asked curiously. “That was an interesting project I worked on for quite some time even before I was assigned to the Outpost. The classes I took in college made me very curious.”

Lucy was carefully listening to every word the two men said. “The older Colonial flags?” she asked.

“Most people don’t know that the Colonies used to go by other names,” Donald told her. “The current names are a derivative of the old, carrying on the tradition of the tribes who initially left Kobol. At the time of the exodus, they were known as: Aries, the Ram; Taurus, the Bull; Gemini, the Twins; Cancer, the Crab; Leo, the Lion; Virgo, the Virgin; Libra, the Balance; Scorpio, the Scorpion; Sagittarius, the Archer; Capricorn, the Goat; Aquarius, the Water Bearer; and Pisces, the Fishes.”

“Here, let me,” Andy suggested, taking the laptop from Lucy and sitting down on the floor in a cross-legged position next to the server. He quickly entered a series of commands and opened his astronomy database, then glanced up at Vou. “Are you looking for any flag in particular?”

Donald’s smile was bright and cheerful. “Actually I’m looking for a celestial jewel box,” he said excitedly. “But I also need to find the Sagittarius constellation.” He quickly looked through several diagrams that he held in his hand and read carefully for a minute. “Also, if you happen to know where Orion is, that would be helpful also.”

“Hmmm….” Andy scratched his head, deep in thought. “Orion is the constellation I can give you the most information on,” he commented, bringing up a small image on the laptop.

Image

“Orion is the great hunter, standing firm with his sword raised and ready to do battle. He is easily recognizable because of the three bright central belt stars,” Peterson said informatively – forgetting the danger of the past month now that he had someone to share his work with. “Between my own study and the work of other scientists over the years we have been able to match some stars to some of the flags… but on an unofficial basis. The matches we have made are purely speculative.”

“Why is that?” asked Specialist Walters. She stood with her arms folded in front of her, curiously watching Andy peck away at the keyboard.

“Because it is quite probable that these patterns were originally created by people who studied the sky on some other world,” continued Andy. “Perhaps Kobol…”

“…or Earth,” suggested Vou.

“Perhaps.” Andy continued typing, pulling up another diagram. "My point is that some of these may not even be stars or nebulae, but actually other distant galaxies and star clusters - objects not physically located within our galaxy. That makes it awfully tough for us to confirm our matches without actually standing on the same planet that the creators of these diagrams did."

Image

“Sagittarius is the legendary Archer, half man and half horse. He supposedly stands in the heavens with his bow raised, and many people refer to the central portion of this diagram as ‘the teapot’ with the handle at the left and the spout to the right.” Andy looked up at Vou carefully. “But I’m not exactly certain where the constellation itself is… the belt of Orion is a long way away from us and if Sagittarius is also from there we have no way to tell from our current position which stars amongst the billions out there would fit the pattern.”

Don stroked his chin thoughtfully. “So at this point you are reasonably certain you know where Orion is.”

“Yes.”

“How about the ‘Jewel Box’?”

“That’s an easy one – we’ve known about that one forever,” Andy said, accessing the database quickly.

Image

“Here,” the astronomer said, swinging the screen around so that they could both see. “This is a telescopic image of the ‘Jewel Box’ – it is a collection of blue giant stars with a red super-giant near its center. We refer to it as an ‘open cluster’, since it is a smaller star cluster than most and contains more of the blue giants than do the standard ‘globular clusters’. The larger, globular clusters used to rule our galaxy but have been dispersed over time as the Milky Way in which we live has grown to revolve around its central, super-massive black hole. That’s part of what creates the beautiful spiral arms that we have been able to confirm exist by studying the stars here in our own galaxy and by looking at enhanced images of similar, far away galaxies.”

“Okay, this is rapidly going way over my head,” Lucy said, making a swooshing sound and passing her palm over the top of her head.

“Is the ‘Jewel Box’ near the Orion constellation?” Donald asked innocently.

Andy looked at him and sighed heavily. “That all depends on your definition of near I guess,” he responded. “The ‘Jewel Box’ is near the Eta Carinae nebula… it’s pretty far away from Orion.”

“Thank you… this is a good start. We can talk more once you and I have applied for permanent residence here on Harvest Moon.”

“You're welcome...” Andy said with a bit of puzzlement obvious in his tone.


Last edited by SonOfTed on Sun Aug 06, 2006 5:24 pm, edited 7 times in total.

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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 11:14 pm 
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Outpost 29
Day 32
Time 1444

Mac stirred, lying on her side; she drew her knees up, groaning. She just had to move, and fumblingly pushed herself to sitting up. It was still too bright, and she squinted her eyes, feeling dizzy.

"Don't move!" Frankie almost shouted.

“Oh, I gotta,” Mac muttered. “Help me, Frankie…” she tried to stand.

"Godsdamnit, Alex!," the stress of the last few hours was finally getting to him - the centurions, the jump, finding her close to death..., "you have to rest! You almost died! You understand that? When I found you, you were cold, hardly breathing... You were almost dead!"

She took a staggering step and grabbed onto him to keep from falling. “All the more… reason to… get moving now,” she panted. Then, suddenly alarmed, she said, “Frankie! The cylons—they boarded!”

He held her upright gently. "Yes, they did. But we took care of them..." He grinned, "Would you like a souvenir? An arm? Maybe a cylon head?"

“And a baseship! Jumped in!” she said urgently. “We have to warn the Libra!” Then it registered on her what he’d said. “What? You got them?”

He hugged her, "Yes, ma petite chou, we got them." He kissed her temple. "Shouldn't you get back to bed now?"

“No!” she exclaimed, “I’ll feel better if I can walk around a little… frak, I feel like I will explode if I don’t move…” she pulled out of his arms and staggered around the small cabin unsteadily. “Frankie, I saw it… I saw the FTL field… it came right at me…” she stopped, putting a hand out, leaning on the bulkhead, swaying. “Gods, it hurts… did it hurt you, too?”

"Ok, you lean on me and we'll walk down the corridor a bit." He slid his arm behind her back and helped her take a few steps. "It hurt like hell, ma petite. I almost blacked out... and I threw up afterwards. That's why when I saw you... I thought you had fainted, so I didn't worry... Until later... You scared me shitless, Alexandra! Don't you EVER do something like that again!"

She grasped onto him, thinking, Oh, he’s so strong… “It was very… strange, Frankie,” she said, I think I DID die… but how can I tell him that? “I… can’t even describe it.” She winced as they walked slowly down the passageway. She shook her head. “I don’t think I’d ever want to do that again,” she said soberly. “What about the baseship? Is the rest of the fleet all right?” She paused, and added, “What about the others here on the Outpost?”

He didn't want to worry her, not when she was still so weak... But he couldn't lie to her either... "I... guess the rest of the fleet is okay. The Outpost people, well, Dr. Kyriakos didn't make it... and neither did St Germain... but everybody else did..." He ground his teeth, "Even your... haricot vert."

“My what?

He looked down, abashed. "Your... string bean. Dr. Moreland."

She laughed, and it made her cough; she held onto Frankie more tightly. “I don’t think he’s ‘mine’. Umm… you guess? About the rest of the fleet?” Her thoughts raced. “Oh, nooo,” she said softly. “The jump frakked up, didn’t it… that’s why it hurt you, too.”

"I don’t know if that's why it hurt but yes, it frakked up bad. We've... lost the fleet. We're alone out here. Where ever out here is..."

Mac stopped and let go of Frankie with one hand, pressing the heel of her palm against her forehead. “I think I’m ready to go lay down now, Frankie,” she murmured. “My head hurts… the lights are too bright…”

"I told you you should rest, but would you listen to me?" His smile took the sting off of his words. That and the fact he swept her up like she weighted next to nothing and carried her to the bunk.

“No, I feel better now that I walked around a little,” she objected, but she was glad when he gently put her down on the bunk. “Thanks, Frankie.” She closed her eyes, putting her forearm across them. He said he loved me, the silly boy. I’m sure I remember that. Oh, if only it was true… But she fell asleep before she could ponder on it.


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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 11:16 pm 
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1130, D32
Liza Liala on Grandeur


The fact that the men in engineering had survived had done little to dull the pain and horror at the thought that she had left them behind....And little to dull her disgust at herself for doing so, or, she had to admit, her anger at Willborn, for having insisted she did. And yet....he had been right. She knew that, even though she didn't want to admit it.

The last time she had been in this room, Jarvick had told her, it wasn't over. Her life in the field wasn't over. But he had been wrong. It was over, for the most part. Hell, any semblance of a normal life was over....At least until they elected a new President....

After recounting the story to him, of what had occurred on the Dawn, she had only one question for him, spoken in a low, conflicted voice....
"....Tell me it gets better. Tell me it won't feel like this forever?"

Jarvik smiled, a friendly smile, from a man who remembered the first Cylon War, and what he had been through.

"It will feel like that forever... but you'll cope with it better over time."

After taking a few moments to digest that rather unpleasent revelation, she turned towards Willborn, seated on the other side of her....

"You really would have done it, wouldn't you? You really would've dragged me out of there, if I'd refused to leave....."

"Yes, I would have.” Jonathan answered honestly, but without bravado. “Just as you would have done to the President, …or Acting President.”

She clenched her teeth for a moment, and tried to make her anger dissipate, before responding....

"You......would have been correct. But it highlights....a problem. One which I am loathe to solve, but have to face. When Libra took back their marines....I was thrilled he was gone. Now...." she shook her head "....I cannot have you doing such, or being placed in such a position. If you are to continue to function as my Deputy, I cannot have you functioning as my bodyguard as well. The two positions represent an immense conflict of interest....as they at times may require you to perform exactly the opposite action in one position, as you would have in the other. And yet.....I must admit...." her face went tight, with the difficulty of what she was admitting, to herself and to others ".....that if this latest demonstrated anything....it is that I cannot be trusted to remember my current position, and restrain myself from certain actions....and that dictates that I must have...." The next words were spoken with a profound distaste in her mouth, ".....someone who can do so for me."

“Well, I have the solution." Willborn said.
"I was Chief Security on Astral Dawn.. been in 'security' for years. before joining CBI.
As Deputy Director, I am bound to follow your orders... as your bodyguard, I have but one order."

"Yes. Therein lies the problem....What is the solution you speak of?"

"I officially resign my position as Deputy Director of the CBI. And I am applying for the job as your bodyguard."

"You....what?" she was shocked, and it was all she could do to stare, for a moment. He was leaving her without a Deputy Director????? She could always try to move Jack into hte position, but he had never been that type....and she needed him to train new hires, anyways.....

On the other hand, the post of bodyguard actually made less of a conflict with their...personal...relationship in some ways than the post of Deputy Director did.

"It makes sense.” Willborn explained. “Your position as 'Acting Civilian Colonial Executive'.. is more important than your position as 'Director of the CBI’.
Like it or not.. and more 'not', I'm sure.. you are the 'Acting Civilian Colonial Executive'. It is more important that she be protected, than I be her Deputy.
My one order as your bodyguard, is to keep you alive. For the:
as a symbol of our continuing, if changing, civilian government.
And I vow to never let you out of my sight."

She was silent for a few moments, before replying.

"I....accept your resignation. And your.....other offer."

Jarvik clapped his hands. "Well, that settles that problem."

Now, it was Liala’s turn to stare at him, one eyebrow raised high.

"That settles your problem, his problem, and the people's problem. It does little to settle my problem. However, frankly, I have to admit I don't think anything ever will....." she sighed. "You told me it wasn't over.", her voice was sad, and resigned, but not angry ".....But you were wrong. And maybe I wasn't ready, to face the truth then. But I am....as much as I ever will be....now. And.....I need to know from you....What else I need to know, what else I need to have, to see this through...in addition to a bodyguard."

“"There's no manual, for what we're going through." Jarvik replied. "But we do have history as a guide of sorts. Not too long ago, when I was young, there wasn't a central Colonial government. But one was formed. I think your course of action, of a Convention is a fantastic idea. I think... I think you have everything you need but one.”

And he noticed that is wife was not in listening range at the moment. Jarvik whispered to Liala. "You need balls. Stand up to those who make the going rougher than it needs to be. Don't be afraid to piss people off.. because trust me, you will. So, be firm, be decisive, and be quick about it. Have balls."

Slowly, she nodded. She had never thought of this level of leadership as the place to piss someone off...But as she considered the issue, she realized...even...before....it was done, all the time. You simply had to be careful about when, and who, and how....
"Thank you, Mister Jarvik....."

“You're very welcome, 'Acting Chief Executive.'"

She shook her head, a look of terror, shock, bemusement, and disbelief, combined, showing on her face.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to this....and with my luck, if I ever did, I'll start getting used to it the day we swear in the new President!" she said, and laughed slightly.

"Well...' Jarvik chuckled, "Your worries won't be over then. I imagine the newly elected Top Executive, will press you into some form of Office."

"Great. Just great." she turned to Willborn "I guess you may get to keep your new gig for quite some time, then...."

Willborn smirked, and said. “I’m in for the long haul. The very long haul.”

_________________
Invest In America, Buy A Congressman


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PostPosted: Sat Aug 05, 2006 11:44 pm 
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Griffyn CIC
D32 T1730
Weapons control repair

So far Dean Cowan’s estimate was off by eight and a half hours. He had been working for ten hours on the weapons control computer since their initial arrival, this despite his promise of a 90 minute repair. Forcing himself to pause at several key points during the project, he had taken a precious few minutes to breathe deeply and thereby maintain a calm demeanor.

During the first few times Cowan had paused long enough to think straight, he had noticed Michael Braddock watching him carefully, shaking his head and wearing an “I-told-you-so” expression on his face. Despite the initial cockiness, Braddock’s mood had changed rapidly once Dean had all of the metal access panels removed and had actually sized up the status of the computer.

Braddock and the rest of the officers in CIC watched in complete amazement as Cowan had tossed circuit board after circuit board out onto the floor in the center of the spacious room. All of them were either cracked, had components hanging from blackened and burnt areas, or were completely and totally fried. He knew the weapons control system had lots of redundant backup circuitry installed, but as the pile of worthless fire-damaged components had continued to grow Braddock finally began to see Cowan’s side of the argument.

Good gods, they had each thought quietly to themselves. How in the hell was this computer even working SOME of the time? That was about the time Cowan had begun pulling entire server towers out of the computer and completely replacing most of the hardware within.

Dean Cowan said very little and simply continued working steadily. Several hours after he began working, he took a moment to briefly glance up in relief as one of his assistants had shown up in CIC with a second duffel bag full of replacement circuit boards and a fresh thermos of coffee for the Specialist. Behind him were two more people each carrying a server tower – both of which had been loaded with software, tested, and approved by experts in Cowan’s lab.

“I guess going up against a Base Star isn’t something we should do on a regular basis…” his assistant had commented after glancing at the burned remnants of the system’s old computer circuitry.

“Well we can do it – it’s just that point blank range isn’t the best way to make our point and stay in one piece,” replied Dean with a shake of his head. “The Cylons don’t have near the flak barriers we do – so if we keep our distance we can pound the shit out of them while their missiles get shot down in flight.”

The assistant had dropped down on one knee and leaned toward Cowan. “So why did we get so close?” he whispered.

“They had to protect the Harvest Moon,” Cowan replied. “Our mission was to bring her back, and in keeping the Cylons from destroying it we had to take some chances and paid the consequences.” Lying flat on his back with his arms reaching inside the opened computer frame, Dean caught his assistant’s eyes. “Ralph, has there been any word on Walters or Edmundson?” he asked with concern.

“Lucy is on board the Moon,” Ralph replied. “Edmundson was on the Outpost when it jumped, so we don’t know… well, we don’t know if…”

“We don’t know,” Cowan finished. “Let Lucy stay on the Moon for awhile. Most of our computer problems have been corrected, and she’s been working really hard ever since we found that domed behemoth. Since she likes it so much, we should at least let her have some time to take a look at it.”

Ralph dropped to one knee. “Have you heard any news regarding the status of our FTL engines?” he asked.

“Nope,” said Dean firmly. “All they will tell me is that the situation is under control. So if the Cylons show up – well – I’m just doing my best to make sure that we can at least shoot at them, even if we can't run yet.”

“I got your E-note stating your plans to completely replace five of the servers in there,” his assistant noted. “I put through a call to Libra to let them know that we’re running low on replacement hardware. They’re going to have to push computer systems to the top of their manufacturing list.”

“Everything’s a priority these days – I would bet the folks down in engineering have their own ideas as to what parts are most important right now. Hopefully we won’t run into this type of situation too often,” Cowan said hopefully. “Playing chicken with nukes is a dangerous game and I don’t like to see the Griff hurting this badly.” He used his voltmeter to check continuity at several key points of the server board he had just installed and nodded. “We’re almost there,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll let you get your work done. Call us if you need anything else,” Ralph said softly, rising to his feet and heading for the nearest hatch.

Image


Last edited by SonOfTed on Sun Aug 06, 2006 8:35 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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