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 Post subject: Episode 25: Gaea's Children
PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 9:46 pm 
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A psalm from the Book of Tharsis:

Behold that the Beast has shed its skin and walks amongst the faithful,
Gemini upon Gemini in sacred number.

Faithless Science mates with the Beast,
And begets Death and Destruction.

Behold the children of Kobol, lost in the wilderness,
Annihilated, confused and betrayed!
They turned their backs on the gods,
Turned their back on their emissaries.

Suffering and strife hound every step.
Brother against brother,
Mine own flesh against me.
Gods, why have you forsaken us!

The children of Kobol, lost in the wilderness,
There is no rest for the weary,
No safe haven from the Storm.
There is no peace without the gods.

And the Beast walks among them,
And child of the Beast.
Beast of light, Beast of darkness
Beast of hope, Beast of despair
Beast shall shed its skin and walk among the faithful.

Behold, children of Kobol, lost in the wilderness!
Turn your eyes to the heavens,
Turn your hearts to the gods!

Gaea smiles
Womb quickens in miraculous wonder
Children fill the sky.
And titans shall arise amongst you,
Titans shall be born from you.
Titans shall wrestle the Beast,
And the Beast shall be no more.

And they shall lead the faithful to Gaea’s lair,
A land of peace and plenty at the end of the journey,
A new Kobol for the faithful.
And the faithful shall sing and dance and rejoice in the gods
For they followed the gods, and were delivered unto Gaea’s loving arms.

_________________
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Last edited by Eaglestar51 on Wed Mar 21, 2007 10:39 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 9:48 pm 
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Day 114 Time 1000

Admiral Benito Rodrigues strode onto the hangar deck, the Marine guard at the hatchway snapping to attention and calling out, “Admiral on deck!” Those assembled were already at attention, but spines straightened even more throughout the formation.

Chief of the Deck Alexandra MacLean had ensured that the deck was as clean as the day the Libra had been built. The flags of the twelve Colonies were draped along the bulkheads, and Colonel Vansen stood at attention next to a small table at one side of the low platform that had been set up.

Arrayed in precise rank and file was the Libra’s Marine Detachment, as well as the commanders of all the military ship’s MarDets. Also in formation were many of Libra’s crew, and those ship’s COs and crewmembers who had been able to leave their ships for the ceremony. There were also a number of civilians present, attempting to match the military posture with varying degrees of success.

Admiral Rodrigues stopped in the center of the platform, executing a left face to look out over the formation. “Major Eric Riley,” he called out crisply. “Report!”

As Riley marched up, Admiral Rodrigues again did a left face, so that when Major Riley halted in front of him, the formation could see the two men facing each other.

“Sir!” Major Riley stated, his salute precise. Rodrigues returned the salute, his expression somber.

On cue, Colonel Vansen announced, “Attention to orders!”

Firmly, Admiral Rodrigues spoke. “Placing special trust and confidence in the patriotism, valor, fidelity, and abilities of Eric Riley I do appoint this officer a Colonel in the Colonial Marine Corps. I do strictly charge and require those officers and other personnel of lesser rank to render such obedience as is due an officer of this grade and position; and this officer is to observe and follow orders and directions as may be given by the lawfully elected leader of the Colonies or other superior officers acting in accordance with the laws of this Colonial fleet.

Done this day, the one hundred and fourteenth day after the exodus.

As ordered by me,
Admiral Benito Rodrigues,
Commander, Colonial Battlestar Group Libra.”

As he finished speaking, Colonel Vansen stepped to the Admiral’s side; in his hand were two small objects, the Marine Corps collar insignia for Colonel. He handed one to Rodrigues, and together they replaced Riley’s Major insignia with that of Colonel. Vansen stood beside Rodrigues as Riley saluted first the Admiral, then the Colonel; then, smiling, Rodrigues shook Riley’s hand. “Congratulations, Colonel,” he said with quiet satisfaction. “It’s very deserved, my friend.”

Riley shook Vansen’s hand, also, then went to stand by the table where Vansen had been.

Admiral Rodrigues spoke loudly again, “Colonel Karl Vansen! Report!”

Vansen did the facing movements so that he was standing in front of the Admiral as Riley had been.

“Attention to orders!” Colonel Riley said.

Rodrigues repeated the promotion orders, “Placing special trust and confidence in the patriotism, valor, fidelity, and abilities of Karl Vansen, I do appoint this officer a Commander in the Colonial Navy. I do strictly charge and require those officers and other personnel of lesser rank to render such obedience as is due an officer of this grade and position; and this officer is to observe and follow orders and directions as may be given by the lawfully elected leader of the Colonies or other superior officers acting in accordance with the laws of this Colonial fleet.

Done this day, the one hundred and fourteenth day after the exodus.

As ordered by me,
Admiral Benito Rodrigues,
Commander, Colonial Battlestar Group Libra.”

It was Riley who helped Rodrigues pin the rank on Vansen’s collar and salute the new Commander. Neither Rodrigues nor Riley shook Vansen’s hand, however; instead, Rodrigues said, “Commander Karl Vansen, I hereby order you to proceed to the Colonial Destroyer Perseus, for duty as commanding officer of said ship!”

Rodrigues saluted Vansen again, and after Vansen returned the salute, he relaxed and shook Vansen’s hand. “Well done, Commander,” he said, smiling. “You’ve been an outstanding XO, Karl; I’m going to miss you.”

"Thank you, Admiral. It has been an honor serving aboard Libra for the past two years. And I won't be that far away for you to miss me, Ben."

    Other promotions awarded by Admiral Rodrigues:

  • Lieutenant Rose Wickham, Battlestar Delphinus, to Captain, as of Day 111
  • Captain Charlie Baker, Destroyer Perseus, to Major
  • Lieutenant Mira "Divot" Koldeski, Battlestar Libra, to Captain
  • Lieutenant Junior Grade Shonda “Fran” Francis, Battlestar Taurus, to Lieutenant, assigned as Executive Officer of Taurus Air Group
  • Lieutanant Junior Grade Eliana “Lace” Lawrence, Battlestar Taurus, to Lieutenant
  • Chief Petty Officer Fernando Gutierrez, Destroyer Perseus, to Lieutenant and reassigned to Destroyer Escort Bellerophon as Chief of Engineering
  • Specialist Ray Deczynski, Battlestar Libra, to Petty Officer Second Class
  • Private First Class Dan Wolfe, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment, to Lance Corporal
  • Private David Bass, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment, to Private First Class (posthumous)
  • Private Patricia Gallagher, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment, to Private First Class
  • Private Felipe Sandoval-Flores, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment, to Private First Class

_________________
Director of National Intelligence James R. Clapper, about budget cuts for the US’s intelligence agencies: "We're not going to do more with less and all these other clichés. . . . We will just simply have less capability."


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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 9:49 pm 
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Battlestar Libra
Day 114 Time 1030

Once Rodrigues had finished the promotion ceremony, he led the formation in a round of applause for those who had been promoted. Once it died down, he again stood in the center of the platform, facing the group.

“Attention to orders!” Vansen called out.

Rodrigues’ grave manner caused everyone to become silent and still in short order. Both Commander Vansen and Colonel Riley marched to stand on either side of the Admiral. As soon as they were in position, the Marine honor guard, ten soldiers in dress uniform, strode in two lines to where the flag of Canceron hung on the bulkhead. The two front Marines, the tallest, reached up and took the top of the flag off the fastenings as the other Marines grasped the sides of the flag. Slowly and reverently, in step, they walked toward the platform, the flag stretched tautly between the two rows.

When they reached the platform, they turned and faced each other over the flag, and with precise formality they folded it, first lengthwise into a long narrow strip, then back and forth and over and over into a tightly folded triangle. PFC Dan Wolfe, the tallest of the Marines in the honor guard, held the folded flag on his palms and strode evenly up to face Admiral Rodrigues, Commander Vansen, and Colonel Riley.

All three officers saluted in exact unison, holding the salute for a long moment; then they returned to the position of attention. PFC Wolfe took one step forward and offered the flag to the Admiral, who accepted it, also holding it on his palms. Wolfe took a step backward and saluted the flag, then he did an about-face and marched to rejoin the rest of the honor guard. As one, they returned to the formation.

Rodrigues turned to Colonel Riley, offering him the folded flag, then he addressed the assembled group in a strong voice. “The Colonial Medal of Honor is the highest award for bravery that a military member can receive,” he said. “Today, with this medal, we pay tribute to the courage and valor of a woman who represents the best of our military—the best of any of us.”

He paused, and more quietly but still loudly enough that all could clearly hear him, went on, “I spoke to Lieutenant Rose Wickam two weeks ago. Lieutenant Wickam had already given far more than any commander could ask… she was gravely wounded in the attacks on that first fateful day. She lost an arm, and her other injuries destroyed any hope for continuing good health. In spite of her pain and debility from her wounds, when I spoke with her, she had only one request.”

He looked around at everyone silently, finally resuming, “All she wanted was to fly one more mission. Just one more. On the one hundred and eleventh day after the exodus, I granted her request. On the one hundred and eleventh day after the exodus, Captain Rose Wickham of Canceron flew a Raptor into a cylon baseship and detonated a nuclear bomb, destroying the enemy.

“Rose Wickham made the ultimate sacrifice, standing up to determined enemies. Her honor, courage, and commitment to the preservation of our fleet is the reason we are all alive today.”

He turned to Commander Vansen and accepted the small, heavy object he had in his hands, holding the Colonial Medal of Honor up for all to see. “With this medal we recognize the selfless act of Captain Rose Wickham. With this medal we beseech the gods to grant us the same courage and integrity that Captain Rose Wickham displayed. With this medal we ask that we be deserving of her sacrifice.”

He turned to face Colonel Riley and gently laid the Colonial Medal of Honor on top of the folded flag in the Colonel’s hands. One more time he saluted, rigid and respectful, and then he took the flag and medal from Riley, going to place it gently on the table. He picked something else up from the table and went back to face Colonel Riley.

“Attention to orders!” Commander Vansen announced.

Rodrigues said, “For conspicuous gallantry, bold leadership, wise judgment and complete dedication to duty in actions against the enemy on Thanatosos, I hereby award Colonel Eric Riley the Silver Star. By his actions, Colonel Riley upholds the highest traditions of the Colonial Marine Corps and reflects exceptional credit on the military men and women of this fleet.

Presented this day, the one hundred and fourteenth day after the exodus.

As ordered by me,
Admiral Benito Rodrigues,
Commander, Colonial Battlestar Group Libra.”

He pinned the medal on Riley’s uniform; the two men saluted, then shook hands. Neither spoke, but the solemnity of the occasion was evident in their expressions.


Other decorations awarded by Admiral Rodrigues:

    Colonial Medal of Honor:
  • Captain Peni Brindza, Ensiferum
    Silver Star:
  • Lieutenant Marcus Zayne, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Sergeant Michael Asanus, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Sergeant Luther Vinoli, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Sergeant Jared Barkley, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
    Distinguished Flying Medal:
  • Captain Dondra “Comrade” Hensley, Battlestar Libra
  • First Lieutenant Jaylene “Mousetrap” Benson, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • First Lieutenant William "Bill" Crenna, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Lieutenant Levi "Preacher" Buckley, Battlestar Libra
  • Lieutenant Kristen "Moonlight" Bui, Battlestar Libra
  • Lieutenant Patrick “Hellion” Cardelli, Battlestar Libra
  • Lieutenant Mira "Divot" Koldeski, Battlestar Libra
  • Lieutenant Tyler "Brick" Wallen, Battlestar Libra
  • Lieutenant Derek "Cowboy" Watson, Battlestar Libra
    Bronze Star:
  • Captain Duke Marshall, Hades Horn
  • Captain E.A. Merton, Lycanthrope
  • Commander William Guynes, Battlestar Taurus
  • Commander Brennan Herald, Destroyer Griffyn
  • Commander Karl Vansen, Battlestar Libra
  • Colonel Richard Cole, Destroyer Escort Bellerophon
  • Doctor (Captain) Nathan Santana, Battlestar Libra
  • Captain David Dedrick, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Gunnery Sergeant Razorski, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Lance Corporal Josette Benoit, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
    Colonial Defense Medal:
  • Captain Kalrk, Battlestar Libra
  • Doctor David “Trap” Moreland IV, Battlestar Libra
  • Liza Liala, Catalina
  • Major Miles Johnson, Destroyer Perseus
  • Staff Sergeant Christopher Zimmerman, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Petty Officer Second Class Ray Deczynski, Battlestar Libra
  • Sergeant Lewis Calapini, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Corporal Francois Lafitte, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Lance Corporal Nicholas Anderson, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Lance Corporal Dan Wolfe, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Private First Class David Bass, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment (posthumous)
  • Private First Class Patricia Gallagher, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Private First Class Hugo Lopez, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Private First Class Erica McIntosh, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Private First Class Juana Navarro-Arellano, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Private First Class Felipe Sandoval-Flores, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Private First Class Nikol S’Jahar, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
    Purple Heart:
  • Major Scott Duncan, Destroyer Escort Bellerophon Marine Detachment
  • First Lieutenant William “Bill” Crenna, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Lieutenant Nicholas "Quickdraw" Baxter, Battlestar Libra
  • Lieutenant Levi "Preacher" Buckley, Battlestar Libra
  • Lieutenant Shonda “Fran” Francis, Battlestar Taurus
  • Lieutenant Joss “Raygun” Varen, Destroyer Griffyn
  • Corporal Francois Laffitte, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Specialist Michael Walcott, Battlestar Taurus
  • Private First Class David Bass, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment (posthumous)
  • Private First Class Patricia Gallagher, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
  • Private First Class Felipe Sandoval-Flores, Battlestar Libra Marine Detachment
    Colonial Meritorious Unit Citation:
  • Ensiferum
  • Lycanthrope

_________________
Director of National Intelligence James R. Clapper, about budget cuts for the US’s intelligence agencies: "We're not going to do more with less and all these other clichés. . . . We will just simply have less capability."


Last edited by GoldWolf on Wed Mar 21, 2007 10:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 9:52 pm 
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Catalina


Jason Wodehouse peered at his reflection critically. His dark blue suit, red tie and prayer shawl were perfect, and not a hair of his salt-and-pepper mane was out of place. One last minute adjustment to his tie and, at exactly 0900, he walked into the proscenium.

As soon as he stepped on the dais, the choir began to sing “Praise Gaea, All Here Present,” and the entire congregation followed suit.

“Bothers and sisters!” his booming voice captured the assembly even as the last note of the hymn hung trembling in the air, “We meet again in this hallowed hall to give praise to the gods that delivered us from the jaws of death! Praise be to the gods! Praise be to Gaea!”

Shouts of “Praise be to the gods!” and “Gaea be praised!” filled the hall.

His voice, now grave and reverent, silenced the last of the fervor-filled crowd. “And now, a reading from the Book of Tharsis.”

A young woman, not more than 20, walked to the podium and began to read, shakily at first but with more strength and security as she went on.

And Lo! It came to pass that the children of the gods turned their backs on the gods, mocking them in a manner most unseemly. And I saw the children of the gods mock the gods and sin against them; I saw the children of the gods erect temples to themselves and place themselves above the gods. And the gods turned their backs on their children, and left them to the Fates. “Foolish Children!” they said; and I heard the gods and trembled with fear.

And then I saw a great commotion in the heavens. And I saw Gaea weep, for the children had forsaken their lords and their gods. And her tears tumbled the mountains and swept the valleys. And her husband, Uranus, saw her cry, and shook with rage and spit on his children, and his spit was iron and thunder and lightning. And his rage was mighty and fearsome to behold; his rage was the Beast that roamed the worlds.

But the children of the gods had turned their backs on the gods and did not recognize his great rage. And the Beast roamed at will, hiding in plain sight. The Beast roamed the worlds, in sacred number did it roam, and I saw the Beast seduce foolish child, seduce him it did, by two and three it did, six and one, and Death and Destruction followed.


The hall was silent as the young woman stepped down. Shepherd Wodehouse approached the podium slowly, somberly.

“Brothers and sisters,” he whispered on the microphone, “we have lived the horror of that prophecy! We have seen our worlds vanish in thunder and lightning! We have seen death and destruction visited upon our loved ones! We have seen the relentless wrath of Gaea’s husband, the cylon beast that has taken our form and pursues us, bent on our annihilation.” He took the microphone out and began to pace, his right arm punctuating his impassioned speech. “And we brought it upon ourselves!” His voice shook with horror and righteous indignation. “Yes! We are to blame for our misfortune! WE! You and I! Because we turned our backs on the gods! We spit on the gods! Despised them! Forgot them! We had no use for them! And we have been punished! Punished for our sins!” This last was delivered in a roar that shook the room; sniffling was heard in the deathly silence that followed…

“But all is not lost,” he continued, his voice – that magnificent instrument of persuasion – taking a hopeful tone, full of wonder. “Like a good mother, Gaea loves her children. Even arrogant, foolhardy, faithless, worthless children like ourselves. Yes, brothers and sisters! Gaea loves us, wretched scum though we are! And she has given us a second chance! We are alive! We survived the holocaust! And why, do you ask? Why would I survive the destruction of Gemenon while so many didn’t? Why did you,” he pointed to a well dressed older woman up front, “survive the destruction of Caprica when your son and grandchildren didn’t?” The woman broke into silent sobs. “Why did you,” he pointed at a burly young man in the back, “survive the annihilation of Aerlon, when your parents and girlfriend didn’t? Why, you ask?” He paused for dramatic effect.

“Because Gaea willed it! Because the goddess, in her infinite wisdom and mercy, knew that we – you and I! – would heed the words of her prophet and follow the will of the gods! Yes, brothers and sisters! Gaea loves us and spared us from harm to be the seed of a new humanity – a new humanity that obeys the gods and follows their tenets; a new humanity that lives in peace and prosperity, righteous and safe under the loving gaze and protection of the gods! She said so, through her prophet, Tharsis!” He held up the slim volume for all to see.

Shouts of “Praise be to Gaea!” and “Gaea be praised!” erupted throughout the hall.

“’But how will it happen?’ you ask, ‘when the cylons pursue us without pity?’ It is HERE, brothers and sisters,” he shook the book for emphasis. “It was here all along! ‘Behold, children of Kobol, lost in the wilderness!’” he quoted,

“Turn your eyes to the heavens,
Turn your hearts to the gods!

Gaea smiles
Womb quickens in miraculous wonder
Children fill the sky.
And titans shall arise amongst you,
Titans shall be born from you.
Titans shall wrestle the Beast,
And the Beast shall be no more.

And they shall lead the faithful to Gaea’s lair,
A land of peace and plenty at the end of the journey,
A new Kobol for the faithful.
And the faithful shall sing and dance and rejoice in the gods
For they followed the gods, and were delivered unto Gaea’s loving arms.”

The congregation broke into shouts of praise to the gods in general and Gaea in particular, shaking the hall with their fervor and enthusiasm.

Silently, a group of women clad in flowing white robes walked into the hall and stood before the dais.

“Brothers and sisters!” Shepherd Wodehouse thundered. “The road to New Kobol is HERE! Among US! And the cylons shall be VANQUISHED by a new race of titans who will arise among us! Let us bless our sisters whose wombs shall bear them! Every woman can be, MUST BE, a vessel for salvation! Rejoice with me, that these brave women before us have obeyed the will of the gods and accepted the challenge to bear the next generation of TITANS!”

The choir began to sing and the room exploded in thunderous applause as each woman bowed to kiss the small figurine of Gaea that Shepherd Wodehose held to their lips.

Image

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Last edited by Eaglestar51 on Wed Mar 21, 2007 9:57 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 9:55 pm 
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1045
Day 118

Patrick Greene and his assistant, Anthony Ito left the conference room on a brief break. It had been an eventful day of discussions of how the new ‘Quorum’ would be devised. As they stepped out near the beach, the both took a moment to relax.

“Tony, it looks like the twelve districts plan will work out. Most of the moderates and the right are onboard for this one.” Greene smiled as he talked to his friend. He also was looking out at the beach and taking in the ‘view’…making note of several beautiful women in swimsuits and bikinis.

“We still have some fights ahead, but it’s nice to see this one is done. The debate has been very…cordial, if the truth is known.”

“As long as there is willingness to compromise, we will do fine.”

The two continued to take in the humid air and talk. It was such a beautiful ‘day’…but then again, the days are meant to be perfect on the Catalina.

A man was walking out of the beach area wearing nothing but a swimsuit and flip-flops. He had a long beach towel in his hands. Fresh from swimming, he was still somewhat wet. He came closer to where Greene and Ito were talking. Both men were smiling and laughing. The nearby marines were somewhat relaxed.

When he got within a few feet of the men, he dropped the towel and charged them. From underneath the towel, he produced a homemade knife. Ito and Greene were in shock and failed to react.

That is when Greg Mooreland drove the knife into the left lung of Patrick Greene. The marines heard the scream of a nearby woman, and jumped into action. Mooreland tried to run away, but was leg tackled by a marine. A fight ensued and one of the marines was stabbed in the shoulder.

Pvt. Dale Brown raised his rifle “Drop the weapon now!”

The attacker grinned and launched himself towards the private. Brown pulled the trigger once and it was all over. Greg Moreland had taken a bullet to the head and was dead before he hit the ground.

Anthony Ito stood over his injured boss. Patrick Greene’s wound was large and deep. He was spitting blood up. “Dammit, you are going to live. Don’t die on me!”

“Have them take me to Taurus or Libra…Taurus or Lib…” Patrick said as he passed out in pain.

Within minutes, Patrick Greene had been stabilized by the medical staff on the Catalina. He was rushed to the Taurus for emergency surgery. His left lung had collapsed from the knife wound.

Within minutes after making it into the port hanger bay, Patrick Greene had been put under anesthesia as doctors Ahmed Sonji and Steve Kersh walked into the operating room.

“Well, we certainly have a high level politico gracing our operating table today.” Dr. Kersh looked over the Sonji “It’s bad enough the Cylons are trying to kill us.”

“Love, war and politics…it seems to all be the same. People end up hurt in some fashion.”

Nurse Marcus Albers looked at the two men. “For those of us that disagree with this man’s politics, will you do one thing during surgery?”

“And what is that?” asked Sonji.

“Take a look and see if Patrick Greene has a heart.” Through the surgical mask, you could see a grin.

“Let’s save his life first…humanity before politics.” Dr. Kersh looked at the surgical team. “Time to do this folks… scalpel, please.”

_________________
"Times change...and so must I." - The Doctor, 'Time of the Doctor'


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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 10:15 pm 
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Battlestar Libra
Day 118 Time 0827
Gunnery Sergeant Razorski

“I wish all my patients were as healthy as you are, Ski,” Dr DeValera commented as Razorski buttoned her uniform shirt up. She’d been due for her yearly physical, and while others might not be as diligent to follow regulations, the Razor was strictly by-the-book, and had scheduled to see Ralph DeValera.

“You’d be out of a job, then, Doc,” the Gunnery Sergeant replied with a straight face.

“Gladly,” he responded wryly, handing her her medical records. “You’re on to see Lieutenant Mathias next, for the GYN exam.”

“You can’t do that part?” Razorski asked, although she knew he was busy. She preferred to trust someone who’d started his career as a Navy combat medic serving in a Marine unit, rather than a nurse practitioner.

Ralph snorted. With a sly smile, he said, “If I’m going to do that sort of ‘exam’, it’s going to be for pleasure, not business.”

The Gunnery Sergeant regarded him, one eyebrow slightly raised. Without changing her expression, she said, “I’d be more than happy to oblige, Ralph…”

He laughed. “Don’t tempt me,” he said, although they both knew that neither would violate the officer/enlisted anti-fraternization regs.

“Ain’t regs a bitch, though?” she asked.

“Let them make you an officer,” he suggested, grinning.

She almost smiled, then. “As attractive as the side benefits might be…” she gave him an assessing glance, “…I think I’ll stick to being the Gunny who strikes fear into the hearts of jarheads far and wide.”

That you are unrivaled in,” he agreed.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Razorski wasn’t surprised to get a message from Dr DeValera later that day for her to stop by his office. During the GYN exam, Lt Mathias had detected an ovarian cyst, and done a scan, telling the Gunnery Sergeant that she’d pass the test results on to Dr DeValera for him to look at.

“Lt Mathias wanted me to take a look at the scans,” DeValera explained to Razorski. “Ovarian cysts are actually quite common, but sometimes there can be complications.” He showed her the scan, indicating a spot on it.

“You’re the expert, Doc,” she said, unable to see anything but black and white blobs on the page.

“It does look a little unusual,” the doctor said. “These things are most often nothing to worry about, but it should be checked out by a specialist. Luckily, we have a GYN doctor who was in the fleet, and she’s now on the Iasoan providing services for us—Dr Norma Rijos-Colberg. I called over there, and she can see you tomorrow morning, 0800.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Razorski repeated, studying DeValera. “That’s pretty quick… do I need to be worried?”

Ralph considered the question carefully, then shook his head. “If I was you,” he smiled slightly, “I wouldn’t be. And I’m not worried; as I said, the majority of the time, ovarian cysts are nothing to worry about. And if by the slightest chance it is something to worry about, we’ve caught it early.” He paused and asked, “You haven’t had any discomfort?”

She shook her head. “None at all.”

He shrugged. “That’s also common. I’d heard of both Dr Colbergs even before the attacks; they’re first class physicians, so you’ll be in good hands.”

“‘They’?” the Gunnery Sergeant asked with interest.

“Husband and wife team,” DeValera nodded. With a slight smile, he added, “They ran a very successfui infertility clinic on Caprica.”

Razorski made a show of rolling her eyes. “Like that’s something I’d need.”

The doctor knew that Razorski had never had children, but he’d seen her records and knew that she’d been married at one time. “Did you ever want children?” he asked casually.

“Your shrink side is showing, Doc,” she warned him, but he could tell she was teasing him. She shrugged slightly and said, “We talked about it, but he was killed before we made a decision.” She regarded him. “How about you, Ralph? Any kids?”

He nodded, and turned around a small picture propped on his desk. “My daughters,” he said. “Nadine was a junior, and Talia a freshman at Caprica University.”

She nodded slowly, hearing the finality in the way he said ‘was’. “Life’s a bitch sometimes, hm, Doc?”

“Death is part of life, also,” he replied calmly.

“Their mother?” Razorski asked, looking at him thoughtfully.

“My wife died three years ago,” he said, still calm. “Cancer.”

She exhaled. “Sometimes death is too much a part of life,” she stated.

“There can be grace in dying,” he replied, regarding her.

She nodded soberly. “Still, we’ve seen too much,” she murmured. With curiosity, she asked, “How do you do it, Doc? Handle all of this…” she made a vague gesture, “—and everyone’s problems, too?”

I don’t handle them,” he told her, smiling. “I just focus a little light, and all the rest of you handle the problems.”

She shook her head, standing. “Thanks, Ralph,” she said.

“For what?” he asked, teasing. “You’re the one handling the problems!”

_________________
Director of National Intelligence James R. Clapper, about budget cuts for the US’s intelligence agencies: "We're not going to do more with less and all these other clichés. . . . We will just simply have less capability."


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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 10:17 pm 
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The Hades Horn
D118 T1130
Central Security Office

Allan Masters had spent a great deal of time reviewing the evidence gathered so far on the Cardelli situation. There had been mostly threats so far against Mason himself and on the Necromancer, most probably designed to disrupt normal ship’s operations. However, the simple fact that a bomb had been detonated – even a crudely made, sloppily planted one – presented them with a criminal situation and a potential murderer on the loose.

As had already been theorized, Allan was convinced that the killer was someone from the Hades Horn. He had thoroughly reviewed the sign-in sheets and other logs from the Necromancer as provided by their staff and – up until the bomb went off – CCorp security from the Horn were the only ones that hadn’t needed to sign in at every station they visited.

It had been sloppy and it had not been ‘by the book’. But it was one of those trade-offs they had been willing to make during times of crisis as long as everyone behaved. Granting the Horn staff a little extra slack while providing escort to shuttles visiting the Necromancer – a major transfer point for supplies in the fleet – had greatly increased their ability to distribute and deliver goods to all ships. Now that the fleet size had nearly doubled, quicker methods of transporting cargo were essential.

But someone – someone quite probably high up on the chain – was taking advantage of the loopholes, and Allan was very close to catching the person he believed was the villain. He had used his experience as both a detective and blue suit in the civilian police force to throw normal tactics out the window. Those would suggest that he place himself in the mind of the guilty part, try to figure out what his motive was. Whoever was responsible for the threats and attacks would no doubt have a motive – but in this case Allan did not believe that he needed to know specifically what that was.

His focus instead was a simple process of elimination, gradually narrowing the list of possible guilty parties, one by one. The entire Necromancer staff had alibis, and – since the bomb could have been planted only within a specific time frame – so did a lot of security people who had been on the Horn when the explosive had to have been planted. They might not have had to sign in and out everywhere they went while aboard the Necromancer, but they did not have that same freedom while aboard their home ship. Masters smiled as he looked at the remaining list of ten candidates… they were close to catching their mysterious terrorist and attempted assassin. Really close.


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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 10:17 pm 
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D118 1100
Fleet BBS

Wendy! You were right – B. is a JERK! Who did you hook up with finally? When are you coming back to work, you naughty girl? Call me!

*Hugs*
Sally
Catalina


Here is a picture of the kittens! They will be ready to go home with their new owners in about 2 more weeks.

Ilka Mueller
Demeter

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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 10:23 pm 
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Day 118
1052
Catalina
Convention Chambers

With the delegates streaming back into their seats, she was just about to formally reconvene the session. The short breaks throughout the day had been a recent experiment of hers, after Renatta Vernon had casually mentioned over dinner one night that the delegates, many not accustomed to the grueling schedules Liza herself had worked for years, might function better if allowed occasional time to relax and recuperate. So far, she had to admit, it seemed to be working rather well.

Her mouth was halfway open to call them back to order, her hand on the gavel, when the page ran up to her....No. No, it wasn't a page. It was a marine. The muscles in her stomach tightened, as the newcomer mentioned something to one of her marine bodyguards, and approached.

"Ma'am?" said the marine.

"Yes?"

The marine stepped closer, as close as Liza's guards would let him, and lowered his voice.

"Ma'am, at approximatly 1045, a male passenger wielding a knife attacked Mister Greene--"

"His condition?" she said, in that calm, detached fashion of those who distance themselves in order to not panic.

"On his way to Taurus for emergency surgery, ma'am."

Damn, she thought. They were so close...coming closer every day. Finally working together, bit by bit, day by day. And at every turn, another roadblock. At every turn...another loss.

"And his assailant?"

"He attacked us, ma'am, and we were unable to subdue him. We had no choice but to fire."

"Understood." she said, in a tone which clearly implied it was more than an empty word. It would have been nice to have the man in custody, yes....Would have been nice to learn hsi motivations, his accomplices if any. But lives had been on the line, immediatly. And she knew, in the marine's shoes, she would have done the same thing.

Now, as the marine stepped back, she looked out at the delegates. They didn't know. She briefly considered not mentioning it....But it was sure to spread, soon enough. All ships housed a grapevine that no planetary situation could ever hope to come close to. And when one threw politicians into the mix, as well.....

She stepped up to the podium, gently banged the gavel to get the attention of the assembled delegates.

"Ladies and gentlemen....I have just received some disturbing news. It appears that as of ten minutes ago, a man armed with a knife attacked Delegate Greene. Mister Greene is currently undergoing surgery." she said, not mentioning his location....on the off chance that somehow, the attacker had had allies aboard the Catalina.

Then, the chaos began, as she had known it would.

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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 10:58 pm 
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D118 1055
Convention Hall
Catalina

Dr. Karl Mueller ran his hand over his thinning hair. Not again, dear gods! Albert has been dead less than a week, and now Greene? How many more? He searched the faces around him - most reflected shock, anger... and fear. Clearly, being a delegate to the Constitutional Convention is not the safest job in the fleet, he thought with a flash of gallows humor. He immediately sobered, though. I hope he makes it, he prayed silently, the delegates were finally moving forward, but with Greene gone... the dynamics are sure to shift and change, maybe not for the better...

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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 11:25 pm 
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Catalina
1255
Day 118

Marine Captain Daniel Storm had been ordered to assist in the search of Greg Mooreland's cabin. He and his small group of marine investigators arrived on the Catalina and were met by Captain Cota-Robles and his security team.

They proceeded to Mooreland's cabin. A marine swiped the keycard in the reader lock. The group entered the cabin, ready to take down anything or anyone that threatened them.

They only found an empty suite.

On the in the bathroom mirror, Captain Storm saw pictures of various people. In the center was a picture of Patrick Greene . There were words written on his forehead in red ink.

'Go to hell, murderer!'

"Sir, I found a letter in here." said Cpl. Lance Beran. "No envelope...and it looks to be short and sweet."

After a photo was taken of the letter on the table, Storm picked up the letter with a pair of tweezers. He placed it in a clear evidence bag. After the bag was sealed, he read the letter.

Quote:
Yes, I did it and I hope I killed the person who weakened our military strength to the point where the Cylons slaughtered us wholesale. This is vengeance for the 60 billion people who died on the colonies...the 60 billion people Greene lead to the slaughterhouse in the name of 'oversight' and the 'social good'.

More over, I did it for my wife Jenna, sons Shawn and Merrick and my daughter Mary. May they rest in peace!

It is my sincerest hope that Patrick Greene rots in hell.

//signed//
Greg Mooreland


"This guy had a chip on his shoulder." said Cpl. Beran. "Pretty open and shut case."

Storm just shook his head "We're killing our own faster than the Cylons are killing us. The sooner this convention is over, the better. Lets see what else Mr. Mooreland left behind for us to look at. Get in the bathroom and take photos of that mirror."

"Yes sir."

_________________
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Last edited by jdctexas on Thu Mar 22, 2007 12:12 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Wed Mar 21, 2007 11:31 pm 
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Catalina Beach...
1400
Day 118

Quote:
[I'm Rick Jamerson on the Right...]

[I’m Brad Willford on the left and this is ’My Side, Your Side! Lets skip the intro music and get right to the big headline of the day: The assassination attempt on Patrick Greene.]

[Brad, live on the phone with us is Captain Ahmed Sonji, a surgeon on the Battlestar Taurus. Are you with us, doctor?]

[Yes I am, Mr. Jamerson and Mr. Willford. Good afternoon.]

[Just call me Rick sir and good afternoon, doctor. Can you give us Representative Greene’s condition?]

[Currently, he is recovering from a very deep wound to the lung. After receiving Mr. Greene, we spent nearly three hours repairing the wound and re-inflating the lung. He is currently in critical, but stable condition.]

[Doctor, this is Brad, how is the Honorable gentleman’s prognosis for recovery?]

Rick hits a button to say something the audience will hear, but not the interviewee “Honorable? Still butt kissing the Green camp?”

“Rick, that’s horrid…” Brad said as Dr. Sonji answered Brad’s question, not knowing about the conversation the hosts were having on air.

[There was a lot of lost blood and lung damage, but I feel confident over the next few weeks, he will regain his strength and will make a full recovery…]

[Rick again doctor. What is it like to recover from a wound like this?]

Rick hits the button again to keep the doctor from hearing the discussion that he and Brad are having. The audience can hear the hosts and the doctor. “Yes, you are kissing butt for political gain! Got a job waiting for you?

Dr. Sonji expained the recovery process…with no idea of the second conversation that was going on.

[Well, there are several things that a person must go through…]

“Rick, I have no interest in public office or serving in that capacity…”

[…the lung must restrengthen itself and this is done by…]

“Bullfrak Brad, B-U-L-L-F-R-A-K!”

[…breathing machine in the beginning…]

“Can’t we put this aside for a bit?”

[…and then physical therapy comes into play. Generally…]

“You know, the doctor has said nothing about airlocks…they’re marvelous for the lungs! Okay, I’ll somewhat play nice for now…get that damn look off your face.” Rick hits the button so Dr. Sonji can hear the hosts again.

[…and treadmills. Mr. Greene was in very good shape before the attack, so I expect this to only aid in his recovery.]

[Rick again, one last question before we go.]

[Yes?]

[Did you look to see if he had a heart? The lungs are in that general area and several of our listeners were wondering…]

The next thing that is heard on air is a click. Dr. Sonji hung up the phone on Rick and Brad.

[Good going Rick!]

[Enquiring minds really do want to know!]

[Ugh! You are outrageous! Thank you for your time Dr. Sonji and thank you to the medical staff of the Taurus. We’ll be right back…]

_________________
"Times change...and so must I." - The Doctor, 'Time of the Doctor'


Last edited by jdctexas on Thu Sep 02, 2010 4:50 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Thu Mar 22, 2007 12:03 am 
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Cyberspace - Libra Fleet BBS
Day 118 1430 Hours
General Discussion Forum



HEY!

This is another shout-out the the Freedom Brigade!

We face an interesting question today: How many people do you have to kill to get a Medal of Honor?

The answer: Your whole crew!

Seriously folks - the good Admiral bestowed the Medal of Honor on Captain Brindza for executing the 19 other souls who were aboard his ship! Think of how many medals the Catalina's captain could have earned for butchering his crew and passengers! I'll bet he's pissed, since Brindza stole the shiny trinket that should have been his. Too bad Brindza's not around to hear about it!

Anyway, keep those posts comin'! It's great to hear from all of you out there who agree - the men and women who are in charge of these ships better stick to steering them and keeping the FTL drives running, 'cause they certainly don't have the authority to do much else.

WE HOLD THE POWER, and WE SAY THEY DON'T CONTROL OUR LIVES!

So, for now, sit back and divide the population of your ship by 20 - that's how many medals you're worth to your captain. And the next time you see the person who's in charge of your ship, don't shy away or just say hi - step right up to them and let them know THEY DON'T HAVE THE AUTHORITY TO SENTENCE YOU TO DEATH!

Members of the Brigade, stand ready! Soon, we'll be having a convention of our own!

FreedomFighter out!


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PostPosted: Thu Mar 22, 2007 4:35 am 
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Previously on Battlestar Libra…

Quote:
He tried to destroy me just as I knew he would… and he failed!

Dr. Abraham Maxwell chuckled with giddiness, glancing around at the piles of valuables scattered all over the room. Reaching inside his jacket, he removed a computer disk and held it up – waving it around as though the money and jewelry on the floor could actually see it.

“He didn’t get me, and he didn’t get this!” Maxwell cackled with glee.


Quote:
Dr. Andy Peterson and many of the other Observatory staff assigned to assist him had worked many overtime hours in their effort to create the new, 3-dimensional map for use by the military. He had signed off of his computer and was just about to call it a night when the female marine and her two escorts arrived…

“I was told that I could find you here, and this is the best time to talk to you regarding this matter.” Without another word she handed Andy a white folder with bright red letters on it:

TOP SECRET – ANDY PETERSON EYES ONLY

He opened up the folder curiously, noting as he did so that the female marine had short dark hair and was actually very cute… underneath all that helmet and uniform and weaponry. Inside was no paper… just one small data diskette and nothing else.

“You are ordered to analyze the data on this diskette, determine its validity, and confirm whether the specifications on it are legitimate,” the young woman told him.

..

He booted up the machine and analyzed the data on the disk, then decompressed the first few files on it. There were several text files summarizing its contents and he gasped as he read them.

“CAS?” he wondered out loud.


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The Harvest Moon
D118 T1430
Deck B Observatory

Quote:
Dear Trap:

I am hoping that this letter finds you well. Back during the days when we served together on Outpost 29 I remember how we used to look at the galaxy of stars surrounding us with wonder each day and study it endlessly. We found new interstellar objects everywhere we star gazed, even out in the depths of space between galaxies where many scientists would never think to look. But not in my wildest dreams did I think that the possibility to actually venture forth and
explore some of it might someday fall within our grasp – and certainly not within our own lifetime.

These people and this fleet have been through repeated, lethal encounters with the Cylons, each time managing to prevail. And now, amidst the aftermath of the most recent death and destruction, I find that a gift from the gods themselves has somehow materialized from an unknown source and landed on my desktop.

Attached is a preliminary report containing a printed summary of the math equations for what has been unofficially dubbed an experimental “CAS FTL engine”. The information comes from a
TOP SECRET disk that I have been asked to examine by our old friend David Dedrick. Don’t ask me where HE got it from because I have no clue… only that it somehow survived the destruction of the 12 Colonies and was delivered to me by one of his marine squads for preliminary analysis.

As you will note, the theoretical equations behind this enhanced FTL technology are
INCREDIBLE. I am a student of higher mathematics myself but find myself totally lost aside for the simpler equations relating to a few of the better known faster-than-light theories. Without people like you and your skills to assist us, I’m afraid that this data is totally beyond our capability to develop at this point. Unfortunately, it is my firm belief that this classified data was more than likely created at a very advanced, state-of-the-art research facility using equipment that we now regrettably no longer have available to us.

I have requested (and received) clearance from my marine contacts to involve you in this matter. Please review this first set of notes carefully… there will be more as soon as I finish completing a summary of the information. The disk I received contains
MASSIVE amounts of data. And Trap, this is CLASSIFIED stuff – the marines who gave me the data left no doubt in my mind about that! So no talking about this to anyone other than by contacting me here on the Moon or speaking directly with Captain Dedrick.

Sincerely,

Andrew Peterson


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PostPosted: Thu Mar 22, 2007 10:22 am 
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Dr. Colberg's office
Catalina

“Just fill out this form, sir. The doctor will see you shortly.”

The receptionist, a bespectacled young woman with mousy brown hair and a plain, open face, handed him a pen and a clipboard with a questionnaire clearly labeled “Confidential Medical Information;” her manner was professional and non-threatening.

The large man almost bolted.

Only the realization that he’d look like a fool stopped him.. He’d come this far and he’d see it through. What the frak, he thought wryly, I’ve been jerking off in my bunk every night for gods know how long, might as well let it be for some good cause.

He began to fill out the form.

Name: Mark S. Chandler

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