Battlestar Avalon

"Galactic control this is Achillies, request hands on landing." Achillies said as he lined up on the port landing pod.

"Achillies, this is museum control. You are cleared for the port landing pod." A disinterested voice said over the comm

"Roger that Galactica, out" Achillies said, emphasizing the name Galactica to whoever was in control.

Achillies slowly piloted the Viper into the pod and towards the elevator that would take him into the pressurized section of the flight pod. As the landing gear softly touched the deck Achillies had to smile. This was one of the very few times he was allowed a hands on landing in the past few years. These days the Battlestar controlled the Viper during the approach and landing, reducing the pilot to supercargo. Leaning back he waited as the Galactica's elevator lowered him into the hanger bay. Once the hatch closed, air was pumped into the elevator, pressurizing the room. Sighing softly he shut the fighter down.

The canopy of the old Viper Mk II slowly opened to the darkened, empty hanger of the Battlestar Galactica. Taking off his flight helmet and setting it on the HUD glass in front of him, Achillies looked around. No Vipers, no crew, no nothing. Shaking his head sadly, Achillies slowly unhooked himself from the harness and climbed out of the small cockpit. As he jumped onto the deck the sound of his boots echoed through the empty hanger of the old battlestar. Breathing in deeply he was at once confronted with the reality of where he was. The familiar smells of grease, fuel and sweat had been replaced with the antiseptic smell of an office building. It was true, she really was a museum. A moment later the museum crew started swarming over the Viper, preparing it for display. Turning away, Achillies walked out of the hanger.

Twenty minutes later, Achillies was sitting Galactica's crowded mess hall. The mess had been converted to a restaurant, giving the tourists a chance to relax and have a meal in the same place that the heroes of the first Cylon war had eaten. Reaching for his beer Tra watched the people come and go as he waited for the Avalon to send a transport to pick him up.

"My daughter won't talk to me anymore" A familiar voice said from behind him "Not for years. Did you know that?"

Achillies set down his beer and looked over his shoulder as Mila's father, John Wallace walked slowly towards him, a swirl of smoke from his cigar following him like a cloak.

"May I" He said motioning towards one of the empty seats at the table, and sitting before Tra could answer

"If you're looking for some kind of explanation why Mila isn't talking to you you've come to the wrong place. She hasn't spoken to me in years" Tra said.

"No, I expect she hasn't. That was the agreement to save your career." John said

"What the frak are you talking about?" Tra demanded

"For the life of me, I can't figure out just what she sees in you." John said, exasperated. "Did you really think that Helena, excuse me, Admiral Cain would have just let you go without someone intervening on your behalf? Mila didn't want you to to loose your career and I didn't want her marrying someone like you. Understand?"

"You frakkin bastard. What, I'm not good enough to marry your daughter?" Tra growled

"In a word, no. However, I must have a relationship with Mila. If for that to happen she has to have you, then I will insure that she has you. I underestimated her resolve in this matter, I will not do so again" John said "Now if you will excuse me, I believe we both have things we should be doing."

Before Tra could say a word, John stood and walked into the crowd leaving Tra feeling both angry and confused. Needing something stronger than the beer he had ordered, Tra pulled out his flask from his flightsuit and drained the fiery liquid in one long drink