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Battlestar Titanica	By : Phynxlegion Category: 1 through F > Battlestar Galactica Views: 2024 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Battlestar Galactica or anything which someone else has legal claim to like characters, settings, etc featured in this fic. I did create many original characters, but its just for entertainment and no money/profit is being m

Chapter List
- 15
- 16
Settling back into a concealed orbit amongst the cloudy debris of the Lernaia Nebula, a distant arm of the Hyperion Nebula, Admiral Florus feels the sting of irony as she temporarily returns the monolithic battleship back to its former hiding place. As Kreysta led the mechanical and engineering teams to integrate a wireless fold navigation system into the bridges, a second team collects the tons of supplies from the colonies. With dozens of pages, the shopping list keeps them busy around the clock while dodging Cylon patrols. With eight vipers fitted with Cylon jump drives, they provided the kind of coverage the collectors needed to scrounge amongst the ruins of the colonies. Setting up a processing center, they screen every person to ensure not one synthetic Cylon sneaks aboard. Like so many times before, the synthetic humans attempted to infiltrate every major outcropping of human life, but their processing centers weeded out two of them.
In fifteen hours, the entire town is ready, and the all-clear is given. As they parked five of the small cargo transports from Picon to take on grain and seed, the others lands to take on just the survivors. With explicit instructions to take no clothes or belongings, they pack everyone into hundreds of seats. Designed to carry only people, they manage to recover over eight hundred workers and families before they leave Sagitaron. Traveling to the non-strategic outer parts of the colonies, they manage to recover thousands of tons of farming supplies and seed in a massive four day operation. The last day of the operation was a massive raid on the merchant docks of Canceron and Virgon. Knowing it will take years to fully rebuild the crops used to make clothing, they empty numerous warehouses of cloth and supplies. Stripping every nearby store and storage facility, they leave nothing behind. By the time the Cylons send basestars to investigate, there is nothing to find but empty warehouses and lifeless regions where people once were.
Parking in orbit around Ragnar, they finalize the security protocols by doing one final check of every person on board, plus a comprehensive search of each ship. With a destroyer protecting them and food ships arriving daily, the last survivors of the colonies were told simply that it was not safe to join the fleet at the present time. Though each of the cargo ships would dock daily with the destroyer Achilles to eat, shower and stretch, they were always under tight guard. As the days turned into two weeks, they were finally given the ultimatum Kreysta dictated. Kreysta was surprised to learn less than fifty people opted to continue the fight, and were immediately started on a training program to fill positions on the ships which were going to be left behind. Kreysta couldn’t believe anyone would choose to remain behind, but understood it was not her place to question human motivations. With enough of the crew to man two ships, the Caprican Rising was chosen to join the Titanica; and Admiral Florus’s pride and joy, Achilles, was selected to remain behind to offer the best chance of survival for those who remained behind. In addition to the training of ship crews, many viper pilots who chose to remain behind were retrained into bridge positions, as the mix of those who chose to stay and go were widely dispersed through the fleet.
With the wireless system nearly complete, the Titanica kept it offline while the destroyer was fitted with its upgrade. Kreysta spent every free moment assisting the crews, mostly due to the complex nature of the interface. Tying directly into the FTL system and FTL Drive, the interface allowed Bavor to directly control the entire FTL process from calculating the jump, activating the drive, and initiating the space fold. By synchronizing the fold between all three ships, Kreysta theorized the three ships could be jumped across the galaxy with the same amount of fuel as they used in a mere four light-year jump. Most of the engineers were dumfounded by the concept but the science behind Kreysta’s theories were sound enough to follow along.
One of the last items Kreysta shared was a parting gift of technology to the remaining freedom fighters. Sharing the frequency bands a space-fold generates, she knew they were close to making the technology work. Unfortunately, time was not on their list of resources they possessed. Warning if the research fell into Cylon hands it would be used against them in horrible efficiency, it was perhaps their best chance in preventing a sneak attack. With little else she could provide them as they readied for departure, she gave them hope for the long road ahead. Despite her relentless schedule, Kreysta found time every day to spend at Myosha’s bedside. Taking time to read to Myosha her favorite mystery author, Kreysta showed considerable relief when her lover finally woke. Complaining that her neck was considerably sore, Kreysta apologized profusely and they eventually laughed about the entire affair. With the paralysis spread from her lower back down, the doctor confirmed her fears. With the spinal cord irreparably damaged, she would be confined to a bed or special transportation devices for the rest of her life. Myosha spent the first few days crying while Kreysta comforted her, but no amount of comforting could relive her pain and anguish. The chief nurse for Myosha, a young and vibrant dark auburn-haired girl named Carmella Goth, understood Myosha’s needs, having cared for her invalid mother as a child. Taking charge of her care, the nurse displayed the care and attention inordinate for most care givers in the bay.
With the pain from her injuries quenched by heavy sedatives, Myosha struggled to remain conscious for most of the time. Incapable of discerning the passage of time, she never realized that instead of hours passing, days drifted by as she lay in the infirmary. As the second week wound to an end and the interfaces were completed, Myosha woke to find Kreysta arranging a portable medical transport tube. Explaining how her ship had a storage bay which could double as a life-support bay, she received permission from Myosha to ask the admiral. Taking a few minutes to share a private moment between them, Myosha inevitably drifted back into her drug-induced slumber missing the historic space-fold.
Sending a pair of raptors and six of the modified vipers, the force arrives and spends a few minutes confirming the security protocols. Once everything was in order, they transmit the coordinates and rendezvous with the surviving fleet, and the transports enter the Titanica. Giving the two ships adequate space, the fleet turns and waits for the countdown. The last transport enters the Titanica as Kreysta positions her ship between the two massive battleships. Barely the size of three of their vipers, Bavor guides the ships to within fifty meters of each other. Dangerously close to the two leviathans, Bavor pulls in between them and begins the countdown. As twenty minutes tick down, the Titanica begins to groan as the drive amps up to full strength. As reports come in of similar effects from the destroyer, Doneatha gives the all-clear and signals to continue.
Sitting in her cockpit, Kreysta’s eyes drift over to the empty chair beside her and she fights the gnawing pain of Myosha’s absence. A flash from the sensors makes her enlarge the screen and sigh. Bringing up the bridge of the Achilles, she addresses the newly promoted Admiral Hemic.
“Admiral! You have three basestars inbound in five minutes. It is best that you get your fleet out of here now! I have your people, and we will be gone in less than a minute. Start pulling out.”
She can hear the weight in his voice as he acknowledges her words. As she sends the destination coordinates to the FTL computers, Hemic’s fleet begin jumping away, disappearing one ship at time. Deciding to stay behind until his beloved friends and crew are safely away, Admiral Hemic is the last person to see the Battlestar Titanica, Destroyer Caprican Rising, and the mysterious green ship ever again. In a singular massive globular orb of light, the three ships are enveloped and are lost from sight. When the orb finally winks of existence, there is nothing left behind. Glancing over the area, he solemnly gives the word and joins the remaining fleet in their war to regain the twelve colonies.
With a heavy lurch, Admiral Florus’s fleet is thrown into a patch of clear space and assesses their precise location. As they struggle to clarify the coordinates, Kreysta comes over the channel in a reassuring tone.
“Welcome everyone to the Uborkon Confederacy. The ships which are approaching are very touchy when it comes to unscheduled visitors, so let me talk to them, and DO NOT do anything rash or aggressive. My people have no qualms shooting first and asking questions later for uninvited guests. Ah! They are calling me. Hold here and do nothing.”
With nothing to say or do, Doneatha shrugs and waits. Hours pass quietly as the four gigantic twenty-five thousand meter long leviathans surround the fleet. With none of the gargantuan ships having any similarities between them aside their immense size, the vessel facing off the Titanica resembled an ancient arrow head with a cone shape extending out the back end. After four hours, Kreysta disappears inside an acorn-shaped vessel to the right of Titanica. By the time dinner was served, Doneatha answered a summons to the bridge by the lead ship. As she cues Ensign Hopper to put them on, a shimmering blob of light suddenly appears in the center of the bridge and takes a humanoid shape. With no discernable face or identifiable attributes, it suddenly spins towards Doneatha and begins speaking in a tongue she understands.
“Doneatha Florus, leader of your Human species, you will now submit to a records review for your application to file for war refugee status.”
With no apparent choice Doneatha nods.
“Sure, whatever you need. Do you want us to…”
She’s cut short as the interface Kreysta installed comes to life and begins sending their flight and military logs wirelessly to the alien ships surrounding them. Shaking her head incredulously remembering how Kreysta assured her that the device didn’t have any connections to their primary computers, she sits back and lets the files go unhindered. In five minutes, their entire history and logs are sent and the connection goes dead once again. As she contemplates how long it will take them to review them, she jumps when the humanoid-shaped light reappears and speaks.
“The review is complete.”
Doneatha hangs on her seat as a dramatic pauses appears, leaving her breathless.
“My deepest condolences for what you people have endured, as we once faced a similar threat. Kreysta has sufficiently briefed you on our expectations for your status; and after extensive deliberation, we have concluded with a majority vote that your petition is both valid and granted. Welcome to your new haven and refuge. In the next eight cycles we will determine the best location for you to inhabit and a trained diplomat will be assigned as your representative to the galactic counsel. Once again, we welcome you to your new home Humans. Our ships will now take you to a safe harbor for you to park and repair your vessels.”
Donetha can only continue to nod dumbly as they are forcibly space-folded gently to a new location. Hardly noticing the transition through space, the DRADIS identifies a singular planet with a small moon nearby, but no other worlds. As they try and calculate the jump, Kreysta comes over the line requesting permission to board. With little thought, Admiral Florus agrees and continues with their operations. With sufficient food reserves, they prepare themselves for the extensive wait Kreysta warned of, and park themselves in a healthy orbit near the moon. As she expected, Kreysta suddenly appeared outside the bridge, waiting in the dining room. As she leaves the operations to Caleb to manage, she smiles warmly seeing the green-tinged woman sitting at the table enjoying a glass of water. Kreysta returns the smile, and begins speaking.
“It didn’t take much convincing on my part to get the approval. You did a superb job organizing your files and they found everything I told them about in just seconds. They were trying to convince me to assume the role as your delegate and representative, but I refused. They eventually decided on an old friend of mine from my youth, Breminon. He has a pleasant disposition, small ego, and most important characteristic in dealings with Humans: a healthy sense of humor. He loves comedy and all the complex emotions which come with it. You have no idea how stuffy my people can be. He’s very fair minded and loves interaction with different species. He will make a great ally for your people as long as you treat him as respectfully as you treated me.”
Doneatha graciously bows.
“I will undoubtedly learn quite a bit as I transition from military leader to the leader of the Human race. We plan to start a political system of democratic elections and key management offices.”
Shaking her head, Kreysta chuckles while she tries to reply.
“Listen. Can I give you some free advice? Take it easy on the democracy in the beginning. You have a great many tasks to complete which will not be very pleasurable. Give the new republic thing a chance to grow after a few years. They will need a strong force of direction and leadership to get your people through the hard times ahead. After ten years, if you still feel it’s necessary, then give it a go. I’ve seen democracies come and go, and it is best to just to keep it on the back burner, as your people say.”
Laughing, Doenatha nods approvingly.
“Sure. We will keep that in mind. You’re leaving then?”
Nodding, Kreysta stands and approaches the admiral.
“Yes, but I request permission to take Myosha. My people possess some remarkable technology to heal injuries, and they have even impressed me from time to time. They have given me authorization to take her to the Great Forge Research Hospital, and now I would like yours. I offer no guarantees nor can anyone truly know if we can effectively repair the Human body, but I believe there is a good chance. Besides, it will give my people a chance to investigate how your species works and that equates to a heightened understanding of you; or at least that’s what the elders tell us.”
Kreysta laughs hysterically, yet Doneatha completely misses the comedy and just smiles.
“They provided me a transportation pod for her, something I didn’t expect honestly. I do not think we will be heading your way anytime soon; but if Myosha wishes it, I will always return her to you.”
Nodding, Doneatha sighs abruptly.
“Please can you at least stop by and let us know if they were successful or not? I would like to know either way.”
After a moment, Kreysta nods.
“That is probably what Myosha would want as well. You got it. I will ensure that you know how the process goes. It may take some considerable time though. We first have to figure out what makes her tick, and then we can deconstruct the injury. And that is the simplified version of what they do. They also do viral research and my people will request to have a medical research center on your world to study your species. Please seriously consider allowing them to do so. Many species become isolationists after the trauma of war, just try and not go down that road.”
Understandingly, Doneatha nods and cracks a large smile.
“That is a really good idea. I’m sure I can sell that to the people.”
After a brief hug, Admiral Florus walks Kreysta to the medical bay and to Myosha’s bed. Groggily, she wakes long enough to smile at the pair and speak.
“Hey…how did that big space jump go?”
The admiral smiles and rubs Myosha’s hand.
“Well, we’re here, everyone who wanted to at least. Kreysta wants to take you to her people and see if they can help you. Are you up for that trip? She tells me that they’ll be poking and prodding you to figure out what makes you tick first, but they could do more than what we can do here.”
Myosha glances around and finally her eyes come to rest on Kreysta. Unsheathing a huge smile, she finally replies.
“Yah. I’m no good to anyone laid up in bed for the rest of my life, so I’m willing to take that chance.”
She blinks tiredly as a large white tubular pod silently hovers beside the bed. Kreysta speaks to the pod in her language for a minute and then turns to everyone.
“I just told it the nature of her injuries and it is formulating the best means of transporting her safely.”
Seconds tick by until the pod finally splits in half along the horizon and reveals a white tongue-like appendage extend out from inside. Thinning as it approaches, it gently slides underneath Myosha and lifts her off the bed and into the pod. Myosha is surprised by the lack of pain she feels as she’s moved from her bed to the pod. As the tongue reforms underneath her into a comfortable shape and form, she cannot fight the sleepiness coming over her. Kreysta leans over the lip of the pod and steals a kiss from Myosha.
“This pod is going to put you asleep for the trip. When you wake, we will be at the hospital.”
Nodding, Myosha relaxes completely and the pod slowly closes tight leaving behind no discernable door or seam. As Kreysta turns to go, Doctor Strom steps in front of her, insistently wishing to speak. With a nod, Kreysta motions for her to speak.
“My youngest nurse, Carmella, has expressed an overwhelming desire to accompany you. I have to admit, there is some viable reasons to take her, mostly as a willing test subject. You’ll need a good source of study to make predictions for Myosha’s treatment. Second, she’s willing to learn anything you teach her in the medical field. If we can understand you, we will be more accepting of foreign species. And lastly, I need to take advantage of any chance to improve our health care methods and techniques. We’re not perfect yet, so if she can bring back some knowledge from watching your people work, maybe we can figure out how to apply it at our reduced technological level.”
Kreysta shakes her head in disbelief. Motioning for the nurse to approach, she intentionally penetrates her per personal space to make her uncomfortable. With little reaction, Kreysta pulls back and asks forcibly.
“You do realize that when I bring you back it may be decades from now. Any hopes of a family or personal life are banished! Are you prepared for this level of commitment?”
With a heavy nod, she replies.
“I have spent my life committed to caring for people. Studying true alien species and concepts is everything I dreamed about. Please don’t deny me my dreams.”
Kreysta looks down at Myosha already fast asleep in the pod. Uncomfortably Kreysta shifts around in place before shaking her head.
“You do realize that dreams can become nightmares? My ship leaves ten minutes after I get there. If you’re not there, I’m not waiting.”
As Admiral Florus escorts the pair down to the ship, Carmella sprints to her bunk and throws all her belongings into a duffle bag. Just as the pod is safely secured inside Bavor, Kreysta shakes her head as she looks up to find Carmella standing in a flight suit and a duffle bag by her feet. With a deep sigh, she motions to carry her bag up the ladder. After finalizing her exterior pre-flight checks, she enters the ship to find Carmella standing at the back of the ship. Opening a storage locker, she shows her where to stow her bag and leads her to the cockpit. Gruffly, Kreysta tells her not to touch a thing and get strapped into her chair beside her. Obediently, she complies and sits back quietly. With guilt nipping at her soul, Kreysta reaches into the center compartment and hands goggles to Carmella.
“Still don’t touch anything…but at least you can see what is going on around you.”
Nodding she takes the glasses and her jaw drops in awe as they catapult away. All she utters is a bewildered gasp as they accelerate past the speed of light.

Epilogue
Myosha's brilliant hazel eyes flutter open and she slams them painfully shut from the light of the room. When she pries them open again, the lights are significantly dimmed and she can discern two women in the room. As she shuffles naked under the covers, she smiles seeing Kreysta rise and rush to her side. After attacking her with a passionate kiss, she realizes she's sitting up on her own. Gently shoving Kreysta away, she looks down at her once non-functional limbs in amazement and cannot help to act overwhelmed. Stretching and flexing her legs, she gingerly rubs her back and discerns countless nubs from scars and needles.
"Those will heal up in time; we only just finished cracking your genetic coding."
Kreysta turns as Carmella arrives at the bed and offers a glass of clear juice. The young woman looked only a couple of years older than she remembered.
"They discovered we were a bit more complicated than they ever imagined, and it took decades to unravel the healing and regeneration dynamics of the human body. We want to run some more tests, but it seems the process was far more successful than we thought. It's only been a month since the procedure and you're already awake and moving on your own. Care to try and walk?"
Looking down at her lack of clothes she looks around and shrugs.
"I guess it's nothing you two haven't already seen, right?"
With a comical grin, Carmella reaches her side and the two of them steady her as she rises. Far easier than they imagined, Myosha quivers slightly as she takes her first steps and manages five shaky steps before collapsing into the arms of her protectors. Led back to bed, she sits for a few minutes before accepting a robe to cover up with. Carmella gently reassures her patient.
“This will take some time. It’s nothing you can rush.”
After weeks of physical therapy and so many tests she lost count, she was finally getting around on her own with a walker. As the months swing by, she graduates to a simple cane, to finally long distance runs. After a year from her wakening, she was finally released from the hospital and Carmella was prepared to rejoin her people on their new world Krybesha. Named after the world their ancestors came from and their saviors, Krybesha offered abundant lands and seas to feed and house the thousands of survivors.
Arriving in midafternoon at the capitol, the trio is met by a fanfare of media and guests alike. Introduced to scores of military and civilian leaders, she politely nods and shakes hands as do the rest of her travelers. As Carmella leads the discussions, she finally arranges the dinner with the elder dignitaries and tribe leaders. With mining operations restricted to off-world and surrounding planets, the key resources were finally coming in sufficiently to allow for limited starship construction. Though the Titanica and its sister destroyer were ever vigilant in orbit, they dreamed of better ships to travel to the space-lanes and to promote commerce. Bombarded with attention, they take it in stride and bear it. It was on their last evening before Myosha and Kreysta were set to leave when a frail old woman arrived at their table. Using the arm of a chivalrous young man in uniform, she stops at their table stares quietly. Kreysta kicks Myosha underneath the table to get her attention. Stopping to stare, Kreysta begins grinning as she recognizes the elderly woman. Shaking her head, Myosha struggles to place the face. Kreysta just shakes her head at Myosha.
"Are you still Admiral or did they make you some other higher rank?"
Shrugging, she takes a seat in front of Myosha before speaking.
"I've received numerous titles since then: Grand Admiral, Chancellor, High Chancellor, and I even had a city named after me. I heard they were considering naming a city after you too Kreysta. To no one's surprise they are still locked in debate. I understand now why you asked me to hold off on a democratic republic. The majority of orders I had to give would have been impossible if left up to debate and democratic procedures."
From across the table Myosha mouths Admiral Florus's name. She smiles seeing Myosha's memory return. She turns to Kreysta and continues.
"When you said a decade or so, I thought twenty or thirty years tops, not fifty eight!"
Carmela sighs dramatically.
"It was far more complicated than even our hosts believed. You have no idea how many tests they ran on me over that time too."
Leaning over the table she whispers to the trio.
"No offence, but you three look far better than anyone from the old days, especially me."
Kreysta leans into the aged leader.
"To be entirely honest and up front, we had to extend Carmella's age, or rather slow it down. Now she's got nearly sixty of your years of interspecies medical knowledge in that skull of hers, and she has at least twice that left in her before she has to retire. We know a few races who dabbled in the art of age reduction, and we share knowledge. The Famori are a young but gifted race at the outer regions of our territory. Though they aren't an active member, we talk to them from time to time. It’s not just what you know in the universe, but who."
Leaning back, Doneatha looks around the table once more and begins to stand.
"So you're not coming home for good, are you?"
Myosha shakes her head no.
"I've spent over fifty years asleep and I'm not spending another minute tied down to one place. I can walk again, which is a miracle in itself. I can't disregard the gift I was given, and I have to live my life free and clear of my past. Kreysta knows a few areas which have never been explored or visited by any species. I think I want to spend how much time I have left with her."
With an understanding nod, the aged leader and diplomat rises and bids her friends one final farewell before visiting the few of her old crew to still be around. Leaving Carmella to head up the medical research division, Kreysta and Myosha board Bavor and leave the new world.
Kreysta turns to Myosha as they climb into the cockpit.
“Failed to mention they extended your age as well. Any particular reason?”
Myosha can only shrug before replying.
“What’s the point? Even you said it was experimental. With my system constantly regenerating, there’s no telling how long I’ll be around, right?”
Reaching out to her companion, Kreysta squeezes her hand and lifts away from the landing pad. As they pass beyond the borders of Krybesha, they space-fold to the outer reaches of known space, never once returning to Krybesha in their lifetimes.
- 15
- 16
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Battlestar Titanica