Kobol's Legacies

Cole stood in front of the door to Captain Tarix's door and raised his angry fist. He took a deep breath, paused and then lowered his arm. He couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd been given so many chances that it somehow felt wrong to just end someone's career as a Viper Pilot before it even started. Still, enough was enough.

( He turned... )

( rated R for drug use (needle). Not much detail, but you've been warned ;) )

After watching Sting be towed to the lift up to the flight deck, Dani gave a small sigh and shook her head. The whole situation with Anika and Jill just sat wrong with her, it seemed out of character for Jill to attack another person without cause and for the life of her she couldn't think of what Anika could have done to deserve that.

Another head shake and Dani put the thoughts out of her mind for now. She had a long walk to get back to her quarters and she wasn't looking forward to it. The trip down here had taken a lot out of her, and if it hadn't been an emergency she wouldn't have left the quarters she shared with Rhys at all.

Thread open to primitive_soul, rhys_gaither

Alone in her semi-private cabin with light music playing, Jilleen typed the last sentence of her report on her lap top computer. Her report documented all that took place from her point of view in the hanger earlier and listed the names of witnesses she knew were present.  She expected she would take the full blame. She was a Colonial officer, she should have known better than let her personal feelings interfere with the performance of her duty. 

( Leave of duty )

While not very fast on her feet or graceful, Dani could lumber forward on her own power once she was on her feet. Still, she didn't mind the assistance from her friend as they made their way up the short steps into Sting.

( not doing that again )

Note: This continues from the events in Briefing Anika

45 minutes after the incident

“…she was belligerent.” said Captain Dennison, Avalon’s Senior Landing Signal Officer. “I was ready to run over there to end a fist fight, but it never came to that, too bad though, it might have been entertaining.
( Not worth the trouble )

“Frak, what have I done?” she said as she looked at herself in the mirror above the sink in the empty uni-sex rest room.  Her little talk with Lt. Lancelot had accomplished no favor. The pilot was one of those who still believed in the honor code, like Jilleen once had before the start of the war.  Her view changed after the start of the war and her experiences on the ground back in the Colonies.

If honor was so important, she should have stayed behind on Leonis with the un-selected and let someone else do the dirty work. Instead, she did her duty, like the rest of those with her on the ground to follow orders and to move on to the next assignment. Be that assignment to gather supplies or round up survivors to be rescued. There was no honor in what they had to do, nothing noble about leaving the un-selected, those un-important people. It did not make up for the fact that they did indeed rescue a good deal of people. Jilleen chose to live with that disappoint of having to leave.

How could a viper pilot understand that, one who saw things from a cockpit way above the ground, they did not have to live in the dirt. Lt. Lancelot and others can live with their honor intact.

( Solace )

Jilleen had the double role of being the Avalon’s operations officer and the Strike Group’s operations officer, a position of great responsibility, one of which she had been performing for years now. She had her set ways, and for the most part understood her place in the scheme of things.  It was her job plain and simple.

After Commander Burk informed her of the Sting, and its possible role in the close reconnaissance mission, she saw the merit. What she did not understand was why they would agree to allow the civilian captain to pilot the ship, there were plenty of talented and skilled military pilots who could do the job. She could herself, at least she believed so. Any ways it had been part of the deal, they get to use the ship if Anika flew it.
( Unwelcomed )

Stowing the last of his incidentals into a foot locker, Cole turned and flopped into one of the metal chairs that surrounded the tiny metal table sitting amongst the collection of bunks, photos and gear that the Black Hydras called home. He glanced around the room for a second and with a sigh he came to the realization that this was his home too. After pondering that thought for a moment or two he wasn't sure whether the idea of this new home was exciting or depressing. Still, the silence and solitude was causing some melancholy to slip into his mood.

He stood once more and took off his flight suit for the first time since he'd come aboard the Avalon. Now in his loose black pants and black and gray combination of sleeveless shirts, he reached for his guitar. Taking the beaten black case into his hands gingerly, he slowly opened the clasps. They groaned from age and wear. It was comforting, familiar sound. No matter where he'd gone in his life, Cole had always had his guitar.

( Lifting the simple )

Anika lay on her stomach on the bed, the pages of Jake's most recent letter in front of her as she read it. The others he'd written all lay in a pile next to her, along with a small stack of blank pieces and a pen. She grinned as she read his description of Dani and how she was going, wondering just what he'd say if she showed it to Dani. She wouldn't, and it was probably one of the best descriptions she'd heard, even if it wasn't particularly complimentary just due to the situation. "Poor Dani," she murmured as she read it. She read through the letter again, as usual, before starting to write one in return. About two to three times a week they would communicate through letters, ship-to-ship communication for personal or private conversations more hassle than they were worth.

They'd spoken a couple of times since the tournament, on the air when he'd happened to be able to get airborne when she was, but otherwise it had all been through letters. Slowly they'd gotten to know each other a little better, their daily routines becoming a familiar thing, plus small snippets of life previous to the Exodus, which would creep in from time to time. She was still a little more cautious with what she wrote, the idea that her letters were going into the massive military maw of Avalon making her a little wary. Even though she usually delivered them on her run to the ship from time to time she didn't know what happened once they left the hands of the young clerk who collected the bag from her on hangar deck each time, exchanging it for one to go back to the central depot ship if she was going that way.


( As she came in to land that afternoon,... )

The heavy echo of combat boots on the metallic flight deck carried across the hanger bay like the opening beats of some annoying song that gets stuck in the brain. A few working mechanics turned to see who was bothering to make all the noise.

He was lithe and lean and carried himself with the swagger of someone whose abilities were only outmatched by his ego. An athletic frame was wrapped in the gray-green flight suit of a viper jock. He was a short man, with an almost elfin sparkle in his dark brown eyes. The thin, well trimmed facial hair an loose cascade of brown hair only added to his mischievous aura. A duffel bag was held loosely in his right hand while an old fashioned guitar case was slung over his shoulder. Both were beaten and patched in several places.
( He nodded... )

( State of the Fleet Dilemma )

[Note: Takes place a few days after Choices]

Jake made his way down to the hanger deck, the box containing a Chief Petty Officer's insignia in his pocket. He'd wanted to do this with Kobe at his side as well, since the other officer actually had direct day to day authority over Avalon's Airgroup, but a good opportunity for the two men to present together hadn't occurred and the task needed doing. Gaither's section had been without a Chief Petty Officer since the Cylon attack the previous week and the next senior man lacked that formal authority that a Chief possessed.

He spotted Gaither standing next to another crewman, looking over an engine that had been pulled from a Viper for repair, and made his way over toward them.

"All right, this shouldn't be too complicated," Rhys said, examining the engine that had been extracted to pinpoint the problem. "Sometimes things jar loose at high speeds, it might just need to be re-calibrated. Hand me that wrench, will ya? And hold that light steady so I can get a good look."

He was just about to set to work when the crewman next to him poked him lightly in the ribs with an elbow, and when he looked up the other man made a 'look there' gesture with his head. Rhys turned, then straightened up when he saw Colonel MacKenzie headed in their direction. The wrench was placed back on the movable workbench so that he could salute, his posture straightening to half-attention.

"Sir," he said politely. Things might be more relaxed as far as regulations went these days, but showing proper respect towards an officer never went by the wayside. "Is there something I can do for you this afternoon?"

( something to do for you )

( Note in envelope, addressed to Bethany Jereldsen )

Dani slowly lumbered her way to Major Simmons' office the morning after her trip to Shangri-La, folder in hand with her report on the interview on Derrick Princeton's talk wireless show. The young woman had written it up earlier in the morning after letting the small staff in the Air Liaison office that she would be going on maternity leave after all. Trying to work full time in her condition was becoming too much of a drain and she had to do what was right for herself, her babies, and the fleet in general.

She was half-dreading talking with Jill about the interview, it hadn't gone well to put it mildly and Dani was still upset about it. Even if she had come up with a way to possibly turn things around to the military's advantage she never should have let the interview get out of control in the first place. Dani should have known better than to trust a politician and it wasn't a mistake she would make again.

The grounded pilot was also annoyed at her appearance. Her one good uniform tunic that came close to a proper fit was now on its way to the laundry after she'd spilled her drink all over it at breakfast. She'd tried in vain to squeeze into one of her older tunics, but the material had refused to stretch over her stomach enough for her to get the buttons into their holes and Dani had been forced to leave it hanging open. At least the altered tank and t-shirts were still clean underneath, so she didn't look a complete mess.
( Reports )

It was the late in the ship's day aboard Avalon, and work was done for now for one Jake Mackenzie.

The young Colonel hadn't had a chance to exercise in the morning due to a meeting first thing with some of the Captains of the industrial ships in the fleet about the material and parts needed for the repair of the destroyer Brownlee, and he was making up for it in the evening now that he finally had some free time. Two laps around the central corridor of the ship was just a bit over four miles, and he added a fifth by taking a lap around the upper causeway of the hanger deck.

The deck was somewhat back to normal now several days after the Cylon attack. Most of the damage had been repaired and debris cleared away, and operations had resumed their normal tempo. The sounds heard on a hanger deck were soothing to Jake, having spent most of his adult life as a combat pilot aboard battlestars, and the sights were familar friends.

Except for one ship that he couldn't recall seeing before. It was definitely a civilian ship, and it had him curious. Jake slowed to a walk as he finished his run and started the cool down. He'd have to go down and investigate, indulge his curiosity.

( Rank had its privileges, after all. )

We expended a lot of ammunition in that last engagement. Projected estimates of how long we have before the magazines ran empty are worrying. Those for Vipers and Raptors being armed, are slightly less so, but still not promising. Multiple ships increase the fleet's chances of survival, as a whole, but they also mean more weapons and crew to eat up supplies.

We are, to put it bluntly, running out of options.

Quite how far the Cylons manage to spread, how extensively they upgraded their industrial base, remains completely unknown. Even the most optimistic appraisals, back when we had colonies, were mostly guess-work. There was very little information on their capabilities, especially when it came to their jump-drives. Can they traverse more space than we can? Such things make it impossible to know where their carriers might hail from. Or even if they require a base of operations, at all.

So far, we've got two slivers of hope. One is an electronic whisper we picked up of what seemed like coded signals. Didn't last for long. We're prepping to probe the area in question, very low-key. Could be a passing Cylon ship, long gone. Could be even more. Could also be nothing. Still, necessity compels us to act and at least investigate.

The other is what seems to be a portion of the environment too heavily contaminated with electric and gravimetric distortions, to take any reliable readings from. Again, this could yield nothing.

With hope, we won't fall apart or die in the process of looking into these phenomena. Until further notice, I can only say we need a miracle - and a fleet-sized miracle, at that.

Note: Takes place before Rest Stop

( Three good choices...who gets the job? )

 It had been nearly 48 hours since the last engagement with the Cylons, and the crew aboard the Avalon had been very busy in its wake. Jilleen had been busy seeing that the Destroyer Brownlee got what it needed to bring it back to combat readiness, and had spent some time there. It had been a mess aboard that ship, it had suffered some significant damage, but nothing that was not fixable. It was the lives lost that were not replaceable.
( A moment of rest )

( Excuse me )

( The Admiral and Prime Minister discuss the fleet's situation - and get interrupted by Cylons. )