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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
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Moving into her new quarters wasn’t what Myosha imagined it would be like. Aside from most of her belongings fitting into two large tote bags, she had to remove the belongings of the previous occupant. Lt. Colonel Burrell was a tidy man with two teen boys and a beautiful wife. He liked writing in a journal every evening before he went to bed, as if he was writing to his family. She carefully tucked his belongings into a box and clearly marked his name and rank on it. Though she doubts his relatives will ever recover them, she feels obligated to make sure they have everything. As the last of her stuff finds its place in the closet and desk, the door chimes. Even after Myosha yells to enter, the door remains closed tight and chimes again. After the third chime and beckoning to enter, Myosha storms to the door and opens it. Growling she sees a lowly ensign extending her small hand to ring the doorbell and yelps as the door flies open in her face. Fuming, Myosha snarls out at the terrified curly brunette.
“I SAID ENTER!”
Shaking at her knees she squeaks out.
“B…but I didn’t get a chance to ring it yet, Colonel Huron.”
As Myosha starts to argue with the awkward girl, she stops and demands her to speak. Incapacitated in terror, she shakes in her finely polished boots and pressed uniform.
“Um…Commander Florus wants all key staff in her conference room in ten minutes.”
As Myosha prepares to rip into the young ensign, some part of her urges her to use tempered forgiveness and she brushes away her anger. Nodding she tells her to be on her way and recovers her jacket from her closet.
As she turns to leave, she sees a framed picture of the deceased Colonel Burrell and family perched on a coffee table by her reading corner. On every assignment since she was a lowly ensign out of Officer College, she made a portion of her space a private corner she called her reading corner. Decorated with heirlooms and memories from her youth and college, she would hunker down in her personal corner and write in her journal, read letters from home, and even immerse herself in faraway worlds of adventure. With her new assignment no different than others before, she appreciated the accommodations afforded for someone of her rank. The previous commander was an intense bookworm, and Commander Florus gladly let Myosha transfer the small library to her quarters. Though Colonel Burrell had a few dozen books of his own, the commander’s stock filled her bookshelves to capacity and then some. Discovering another two boxes of books in the commander’s storage room, Myosha realized she’d just have to read what she has on the shelves first, and replace them as she goes. Retrieving the picture, she cannot imagine how she missed this last picture of the family, and opens a box. Resting the picture on top, she recloses the box and rushes out the door.
With three chairs open, she chooses the one closest to the commander and sits. Accepting a file folder from the terrified Ensign Jalter, she watches as the girl swiftly moves around the table before leaving. Laughing inside, Myosha opens the file and reads a detailed breakdown of their planned departure path. Taking a week to travel the length of the dust cloud, the risky escape was their best hope. Flipping through department efficiency reports across the Titanica, she was genuinely impressed with the level of improvement over the past twelve days. With the entire crew learning their jobs as they go, if it weren’t for the Achilles’s crew, the battlestar would be effectively useless.
With the scrapping of the Rhea and Clotho, they finally removed the last salvageable piece equipment from the lifeless hulks yesterday before her shift started. With every drop of fuel and every reusable part stripped and cut out of the ship, Myosha silently bid the old companions farewell and gave the order to set them adrift. Through the rear viewer, the skeletons of the Red Demeter Group slowly fade and are soon lost in the misty haze of the cloud. The door of the conference room gently hisses open, and Myosha instinctively rises. Acknowledging the various department heads, she decides to remain standing and fetch a cup of coffee. As she finishes pouring hers, she pours one for the Commander and sets it at her place on the table as Commander Florus enters. Ensign Jalter brings the room to ‘attention’ and the Commander immediately dismisses them by mentioning for everyone to take their seats. She opens a palm-sized notebook, and begins speaking.
“At our current course and speed, we’ll be entering the largest section of the cloud today but it will only take us five days to exit. That is, if Lieutenant Benders is even close in her ‘estimate’ of the mass of this cloud. Do we have any improvements from DRADIS?”
Everyone’s attention turns to Lieutenant Michael Junten, a keen avionics engineer. He opens a notebook, scans a page and replies dryly.
“No Commander. There’s only so much we can do without a vast fighter screen surrounding us. Right now we have the Achilles leading us, and their detection systems are only eight percent better than those of the Titanica. DRADIS technology hasn’t improved much over the years since this behemoth was designed and constructed.”
As if on cue, Captain Scott clears his throat and speaks.
“Well, thanks to Titanica’s simulator we have 30 raptor pilots who are now viper qualified. I’d prefer to do actual flight trials, but this cloud is no place to practice in. We’d lose half the pilots and never see them again. I am training about fifty other engineers and mechanics that seem to show some aptitude to flying, but they are far from ready to step in a simulator. I have my best three raptor pilots training them every day.”
Commander Florus nods.
“Good work, but even 80 viper pilots is far short of what we need. As soon as we get clear of this cloud, I want to link up with the surviving fleet and get reinforcements. I can’t imagine we’re the only ones who made it out of the line of fire. If these really are Cylons, then we’ve got one fraking crazy war ahead of us. Excuse my language. This is a very taxing situation…as you all know.”
Myosha grins subtly. Hearing her commander apologize for her “language” is comical at the least. One of the defining characteristics of military service for Myosha was the colorful language she acquired. She found her first hurdle in serving was learning how to temper her tongue when she returned home. Her mother threatened to put her over her knee if she spoke foully around her, so she left home with a bruised tongue after biting it for three weeks. The commander clears her throat and inhales sharply snapping everyone’s attention back onto her.
“Lastly, what are these accident reports I’m reading. Two deaths now?”
Aliza Gurmna was an astute maintenance manager on the Rhea, and was without question the best choice to serve on the Titanica. The two bizarre accidents stumped her best attempts to isolate the reasons. A week ago, Machi Lewins was troubleshooting a short in the airlock controls when it malfunctioned and cycled open, blowing him out into space before anyone could help. The 29 year old man had who had no family and kept to himself, was well liked in the department. Apparently the door immediately cycled open and closed before anyone could stop his departure into the dust cloud. Weirder yet, was the loss of Ensign Gayla Cellar, communications engineer, who for unknown reasons ventured into the avionics bay and was electrocuted by a lose 800 volt power-feeder cable. The best Aliza could piece together was that she was shimming on her back carrying a piece of gear and the cable was knocked loose. Falling directly on her sweaty chest, it cooked her almost instantly and melted the white box resting on her chest. Only small pieces remained of the equipment, but it was non-standard and unidentifiable. Raising more questions than answers, Aliza ordered no unscheduled maintenance without a buddy, and harped on safety protocols. Since then, there have been no further deaths, but accidents and malfunctions are still strange and bizarre. Myosha continually reminded the Commander that the ship was still on its shake-down cruise after construction, so all the small problems of a new ship were never corrected.
Glancing through the file folder, Myosha sees a picture of Gayla and absently admires the chestnut-blonde’s beautiful pixie features. The unusual beauty makes her feel a pang of sorrow for the horrific death of such a young girl. Out of nowhere, Myosha feels a firm slap on the back of her head making her eyes bulge in surprise, anger and humiliation. As she gets up to thrash the individual, she sees no one behind her or standing that could have smacked her head. Whipping her head around, she can’t find anyone who could have orchestrated the head slap, and no one seemed to be paying attention. The hit, neither concussively painful nor damaging, had the air of a wakeup call rather than malice.
The room immediately raises their heads to Myosha who stands wide-eyed beside Commander Florus. Looking up to her second in command, she asks if there’s anything else for her, and Myosha can only shake her head no in a bewildered fashion before speaking.
“No…I think I’ve been drinking too much coffee or something.”
Mildly confused, Commander Florus nods in agreement.
“I think it’s very understandable. We’re all strung-out with more questions than answers for our situation. Let’s keep it together. Everyone is depending on us to be their beacons of strength during these rough times. If there is nothing else, you’re dismissed.”
As the room empties, Myosha strides onto the bridge rubbing the back of her head and gets an update from the bridge officers. With nothing new, she confirms their course and speed for the Commander. As Commander Florus reviews the ship’s status, she takes her seat and prepares for a long and tense week ahead[PV1] .
Commander Florus enjoyed her daily pre-lunch run through the ship. Aside from the exercise, she enjoyed the opportunity to look the ship over, interact with the crew, and feel the general condition of the ship. It was beyond just getting joy from her actions, but feeling like she’s making a difference by roaming the corridors. Often she’d stop and investigate rooms and sections, previously unlisted in purpose or function. With growing frequency, she felt an emotional pull or push as she moved through the ship, never felt on any ship prior. Dismissing the emotional surges, she spent her week familiarizing the nooks and crannies of her ship.
With two days remaining until they leave the notorious cloud of metal, ice and silicon dust, she couldn’t wait to get clear of the nebula and bring their long range communications online. With the constant interaction and rubbing of the particles, the small fleet was constantly experiencing electrical fluxes and discharges. Through the screen, a constant snow field filtered their view and made details impossible to discern. Even for the raptors, spread out 5000 meters around the Titanica and fleet, their sensors barely increased the detection bubble. Offering them a minute or more of warning of dangerously large collisions, the raptors were spread dangerously thin on their flanks, and only a single raptor covering their rear. With the two transports on Titanica’s left and right, they offered the only protection from a stray asteroid collision.
As Doneatha rounds her final corner before heading back toward the bridge, a blinking caution light from the cargo bay grabs her attention. Stopping, she moves towards the empty bay, and interrogates the panel. The bay, used to receive and transfer medium-sized parts and equipment bound for the forward third of the ship, had but a dozen crates of spare parts and low-value commodities. With pressure reading within normal parameters and temperatures the same as the corridor, she tries to unlock the door, but it refuses to release the electronic lock. Knowing she can always manually unlatch the mechanism, she tries to sort out the glitch through the panel.
From bridge of the Aporia, newly promoted Major Caleb Braka studied the sensor readings alongside his navigator Ensign Koba. A recent graduate of the academy, the black-haired Asian was still learning the finer points of the older vessel, after spending two years studying the latest advancements in technology. As the pair hunch over thousands of erroneous readings of objects, they suddenly discern a reading consistently appearing on their sensors. Though it was just beyond their range, it seemed to be getting closer at a rather high velocity. Too large to be a missile, it was difficult to discern if it would intersect their path before or after they passed. With thousands of similarly-sized objects regularly passing them, the duty of tracking these objects was difficult at best. As they try calculating the trajectory, Caleb tells him to send the Titanica appropriate course corrections to be on the safe side.
As the wedge-shaped object shoots past the raptor pilot at over 1000 meters per second, he warns the Aporia only seconds before it brushes against an outer cargo hold. Thrusting the aft section of the Aroria upwards, the object is deflected downwards by many degrees, but not decreasing its velocity. With the speed of a bullet, the object impales the Titanica at the rear cargo bay sending everyone to the floor. Commander Florus picks herself from deck and activates the room’s overhead lights. Through the door’s porthole window, she sees a 15 foot cone-shaped wedge piercing the outer cargo door. Undamaged from the collision, it sits idly and seems no worse for wear. Looking at the control panel, she notices the locking system is now working, but the pressure inside the bay is gone. With the safeties refusing to open the door, the red pressure warning light shines brilliantly and she shakes her head. Going to a nearby phone, she calls the bridge and orders the fleet to a full stop.
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Battlestar Titanica