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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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Pushing through the blue-green dust and gases, the Titanica turns into the shielded corridor of the nebula revealing one of a few remaining Cylon War depots on the books. Originally slated as demolished, Myosha’s team had to file false completion records in order to hide their diligent search. Though authorized, she hated the falsification of official records, yet as they rounded their turn to dock, she had never been as thankful in her entire life. Her crew were readily synching into the rough and brutal life of the real fast paced military life, with the exceptions being slapped into shape. Keeping the ship commanders at their stations meant Myosha and all the XOs were handling the bulk of the upload. As they scour the archives, she was genuinely impressed by the accuracy of the forgotten loaders and stockers for the depot. With their stock of missiles and ammo, the Titanica was finally fully armed with ship to ship missiles. Though none were nuclear, the high explosive warheads were still a third in explosive yield compared to nukes. Modern high explosive were nearly half as powerful as the old nuclear warheads, but the old explosives still packed a punch in combat.
As she passes the twelfth hour, she answers a summons to the med bay. Expecting to find a laid-out mechanic who screwed up out of haste, she scans the bunks for anyone standing out and stops at young man with his head wrapped up. As Doctor Strom strolls alongside, she whispers to Myosha.
“A guard rail broke and he cracked his skull on the wall as he fell. He’s going to need some serious care, and my nurses in training are struggling. The good news is that the freezers on the depot have doubled our medical stocks across the fleet, so we won’t need any resupply for some time to come, but this is not why I called you here. Follow me to my office.”
Dodging the flow of personnel and supplies through the bay, she finally catches up with the doctor who stands over a remote display. Recognizing it from a week ago, Myosha studies the interior of the alien ship and starts to ask, when she notices the occupant’s hand twitch. Nearly jumping backwards, she studies the display and is rewarded with additional activity from the alien. Dryly, the doctor continues.
“Our pilot is very humanoid under all that gear. In fact I’m willing to say she is very likely human. Yes, I have performed numerous infrared scans and can conclusively say she is very likely human. That muscle and mass we thought we were looking at is just a suit of some kind…it might preserve her or keep her body from deteriorating during this stasis. She seems in good health considering she was dead by our definition, and she will awaken soon. Exactly when is anyone’s guess.”
Running her hands through her dark amber hair, the doctor points to a time-lapse shot of the small woman; the slideshow reveals her moving or twitching all over her body parts systematically over the past week. Shaking her head Myosha struggles to make sense of the meaning. As the shrugs, the doctor continues.
“She’s warming up every muscle in her body in preparation to wake. Think of it as if she’s doing operational checks before she has to use the machine. Not sure if this is the computer directing it or she is, but she’s done a complete systems check twice now and she’s starting her third set, at a rather increased rate every time I might add.”
Myosha shakes her head in disbelief.
“Have you briefed the Commander yet?”
Shaking her head, she continues dryly.
“No. She’s been busier than me. You’re the first I’ve told.”
Patting the doctor’s shoulder, she nods in agreement and prepares to leave.
“Thanks…lucky me.”
It was on the third day they finished stripping the depot of every last piece of gear, supply tin, and round of ammo. With the water tanks on the Titanica half full upon arrival, they fashioned refillable bladders in the cargo carriers and drained the depot’s tanks. Lumbering out of the hidden nook of the nebula, the Achilles led the march out of the dark clouds with the Titanica following closely, and the cargo ships taking up the rear. Hours tick by giving Myosha time to brief Doneatha on the long lists of accidents, injuries, and personnel laid up in the infirmary. Doneatha realized there would be some injuries, but not the list which her XO presented her. Explaining most of Red Demeter was used to a laid back, unmilitary lifestyle, Myosha wasn’t surprised. When she finally got to their sleeping pilot in the flight bay, the commander seemed to comprehend the situation far better than she had the first time she was briefed.
As they viewed the feed from medical, the Achilles called for a full stop and spoke over the wireless.
“Commander! Scouts report there’s a detachment of enemy craft waiting for us to exit the nebula. They can’t be for certain, but it seems like the same ones which chased us originally.”
Myosha curses under her breath, and she sees the hopes of escape drain from the faces of everyone around her. As Commander Florus turns to Myosha to discuss options, the scout screams in a frantic update.
Commander! New DRADIS contacts! I got 5 inbound towards the enemy craft! They’re colonial! We got four destroyers and a missile boat! They’re engaging! The enemy craft is launching fighters….hundreds Commander!”
Myosha can’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.
“Commander, I seriously doubt they’ll last long against this huge capital ship. We should engage! We have them in a crossfire! Two large forces will prevent them from concentrating fire on any one target. Let’s have our cargo ship hang behind in the clouds.”
Wearing an evil grin on Doneatha’s face, she whispers to her XO.
“And I actually thought you’d be the last one to engage the target.”
Turning to her com officer, she orders the cargo fleet to hang back, and turns back to Myosha.
“XO! Take us out. Achilles! Take a position to our rear and concentrate fire on the fighters. Colonel Huron, have Red Stallion and Gold Swindler viper squads prepare for launch. Tell them to maintain our defensive shield against fighters slipping past our Triple-A.”
Myosha nods and barks orders as Commander Florus screams to get the commander of the other attacking fleet on the line.
Over the speaker a beleaguered man cries out.
“This is Commander Galion of the Third Gemenon Fleet! Who is commanding that Battlestar?
Commander Florus sneers.
“This is Commander Florus of the First Caprican Fleet and I’m commanding my small division of surviving vessels. Am I correct in assuming this enemy ship is a Cylon Basestar?”
As he comes back on the line, he is suppressing the cheers and cries on his bridge.
“Yes Commander, you most certainly are correct. How about we show these toasters what happens when you get into a straight forward fire fight with the Colonial Fleet, rather than a sneak attack.”
Doneatha nods approvingly, not that he sees it.
“Aye, commander. How about a roundtable round up?”
Commander Galion cannot restrain his enthusiasm.
“Sounds good. I’ll work one of my destroyers to lead you and have yours take up your aft flank?”
From all of Myosha’s theoretical training or command and tactical colleges, nothing prepared her for the chaos and onslaught of real warfare. In a short number of minutes, the Cylons went from an assured victory to terror as the concentrated firepower of seven ships obliterates not just their fighter screens, but any hopes of escape. Commander Florus recognized the shift in tactics from the enemy as they rapidly recalled a third of the fighters to attack the Titanica. Surmising they were more interested in destroying the support ships rather than a fully operational battlestar, she has her destroyer extend its cover-fire towards protecting the missile boat, and have the destroyers form a protective wall of fire on the opposite side of the Titanica. Synchronizing their rotation, the Cylons see their advanced tactics and weaponry rendered useless under the heavy fire and bombardment. Sending one of their destroyers to lead the Titanica, and the Achilles taking up the rear, the waves of fighters are brushed aside, leaving the Titanica to concentrate fire on the Cylon Basestar.
Despite lacking any nuclear warheads, the conventional warheads of the Titanica tear the massive capital ship to pieces. With the missile boat bombarding the Cylon ship with its banks of nuclear and conventional missiles the battle lasts a fraction of the time Myosha first imagined. As the last of the Cylon fighters are destroyed, Myosha can’t believe they weathered the battle so well. With light damage reported, the repair crews report above average repair times. Even Commander Florus was amazed by the repair estimates. Privately, Doneatha whispers to Myosha.
“Your people are miracle workers. This kind of damage should take days to fix.”
Laughing Myosha replied slyly.
“Commander, they are your people now, Red Demeter is long gone.”
With hours of conversations with the five new ship commanders, Myosha responds to a summons from the doctor. With Commander Florus absorbed in meetings in her conference room, Myosha knew she had to buffer the information flow. Striding down into the bowels of the ship, she wrestled with the change in crew assignments once more. Of the four destroyers, the Heracles was far from new and ship-shape before it went into battle. Pieced together in a secret space dock, its original function was to act as sacrifice to disable the Cylon Basestar so the three other ships could destroy it. With the arrival of Titanica’s fleet, their tactics changed and it survived the battle. Unfortunately the FTL drive was good for only one jump, and was now useless. Evacuating the skeleton crew, they were dispersed back among the surviving fleet and set the engines to blow. Furthermore, the singular colonial fleet was dissolved and resurrected into four surviving fleets with no uniform chain of command or tactics between them.
The five ships they ran into were desperate to refuel and rearm to get into the fight, that the loss of one destroyer was insignificant. From preliminary reports, there were only eight surviving battlestars, and there were rumors of two more leaving the battle lines to look for a safe territory to call home. With no one leader able to merge the fractured fleet, it didn’t take a tactical genius to recognize the direction the war was heading. The new Cylon fleet was technologically and numerically superior and responsible for the massive surprise attack on the colonies. Everyone knew they were behind the attacks, but the reports hit home with the cold truth: there was no home to go back to.
Entering the medical bay, Myosha is taken back by the cleanliness and lack turmoil from just a day prior. With most of the injured in a separate bay, the doctor preferred to keep only critical patients close by. Finding her beside one such patient, Myosha waits patiently until she exits. Motioning her to follow with her finger, she leads the XO into her office and points towards the display screen. Myosha takes a minute to realize the camera is lying face up on the deck looking up at the bottom hatch door of the alien ship. As she begins to protest, the doctor rewinds the recording and points to watch the pilot wake up. The bed doors split open and the pilot rolls effortless out of bed and stands. Reaching out and grasping the camera, she tosses it out the hatch and walks towards the second camera mounted at the ceiling facing the cockpit. Ripping it free, she tosses it out the open hatch, and slams the hatch shut. As Myosha fights from cursing, the doctor clears her throat.
“This happened during the battle. I didn’t get a chance to review the tapes until an hour ago. I’ve been so busy I didn’t have the chance to notify anyone, until now at least.”
Myosha desperately struggles to interpret the scene and realizes she has to get her commander involved. Shaking her head, she takes the recording, excuses herself and rushes back to the bridge. After assigning a security detail to keep everyone away from the ship, she interrupts the Commander’s meetings. Politely motioning she needs a private ear, the commander adjourns the meeting and directs Myosha into her quarters. Myosha accepts a glass of water and takes a deep calmed breath before revealing the events transpired during the battle. After reviewing the recording, Doneatha summons Captain Forester to the bay, and leads Myosha down.
If it weren’t for the damage control and repairs going on all over the ship, Doneatha doubted she could have had any privacy for what she had to do. As she starts to move towards the ship, Captain Forester stops her.
“I’m sorry Commander, but its best you let me or the Chief do this.”
As she starts to protest, she sees her XO agreeing and backs down. Grabbing a heavy wrench from a tool box, he makes his way towards the hatch. As he crouches underneath, he sees the outer hatch still open but the inner one is sealed tight. As he searches for a sturdy place to strike the wrench against which won’t cause noticeable damage, a young girl’s voice rings out over a speaker.
“If you hit my ship with that, I swear I will ram that tool in a place which will require a very understanding surgeon to recover it.”
As the captain quickly backs out from underneath the craft, the voice rings out once again.
“Thank you. I’ll be out momentarily.”
Joining the Commander and XO, he grins sarcastically and adjusts his coat. A minute passes and a meek shape leaps down to the deck from inside the ship. Flourished in a mind-numbing number of blue and green gossamer robes, the meek pilot strides towards the assembled group with her hands hanging open by her sides. With a dark blue veil covering her head, she reaches them and bows dramatically. The commander pauses before returning the gesture. As she starts to introduce herself and crew, the girl speaks.
“I apologize for damaging your ship, but my logs clearly show one of those cargo vessels deflected my ship and caused me to pierce yours. If you wish for me to make reparations, I have no currency or wealth to speak of. I am merely a lone pilot far from home.”
Nodding, Commander Florus contemplates her words carefully.
“We seek no compensation or reparations for the event. I too believe it was an unforeseeable accident. It appears that fortunately your ship was undamaged by the impact, but if you are in need of any assistance, I am willing to offer help.”
The girl chuckles under the veil.
“You are a fine host. Well, I have to admit, I would seriously enjoy some company after my long nap, not to mention a chance to clean up and get some fresh clothes on. Afterwards, perhaps we can discuss what I can do for you.”
Myosha steps forward immediately, not considering any diplomatic procedures or consequences.
“Commander, she may use my quarters.”
Pausing in her stride back to her ship, the pilot cocks her head sideways.
“Are they private? No one is allowed to view me as I bathe or change.”
Nodding her head in approval, Myosha continues without pausing.
“Absolutely miss. I will personally stand guard outside the door if you wish.”
Bowing her head, the girl disappears momentarily inside her ship and returns toting a small duffle bag. With strange yellow markings and an oblong yellow checkmark running the length, Commander Florus cannot make any sense of the origins. As the procession heads towards Colonel Huron’s quarters, Captain Forester seems lost to his thoughts. Struggling to place an obscure puzzle piece, he grabs Lieutenant Kepless, the ship’s cryptographer, and whispers to the Commander.
“Ma’am, I need to borrow your cryptographer for a few hours. It’s important.”
Unable to imagine any particular need for him, she nods and lets them run off to the conference room they were using to decipher the writing. With the door closed, Captain Forester closes dozens of books and shoves them aside. As Lt. Markus Helms starts to protest, the captain explains.
“I remember something I read about this, but I can’t remember where it was. I’m looking for some reference or myth about someone having to bathe in complete privacy. I know I can’t get any vaguer, but trust me it’s important.”
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Battlestar Titanica