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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Gisela Feronus rode her raptor out of the trans-spacial jump while powering down all her systems. With minimal power, she lets her previous momentum carry her into the cloud of dust and rocks surrounding Depot MR190. Her previous missions to three depot sites taught her to use just her reaction thrusters rather her full engines to reduce the attention her ship would draw from the enemy DRADIS. Spinning and tumbling like the surrounding debris and rocks, she calmly focuses on her instruments while using a separately powered scanner attached to her ship. As it spun seemingly uncontrollably, it softly scans the surrounding field while using no more power than a toaster. The device was just one of many miraculous items the teams on the Titanica were developing daily. The experimental model was equipped with labs and construction areas no battlestar ever had before or afterwards. Many theorized that Command was considering an exploration division when the Titanica was made; but with its loss, so did those hopes and dreams.
After two hours of bumping and grinding against the rocks and debris, she folds to a secondary location before jumping back to the Titanica. Arriving, she notices two other raptors are on final as she exits. Parked beside the cold green wedge ship of Kreysta’s, she glance her direction and notices the hatch sealed tightly. Taking that as a sign she’s asleep, she glances down at her watch and realizes it still early morning on the ship. With the blue data module from her trip in hand, she rushes up to the bridge. Handing the blue block to the tactical officer on duty, she reports in. Myosha smiles meekly seeing her, and returns the Lieutenant’s salute.
“Good news or bad?”
Shrugging, Gisela points at the deck officer processing the data.
“Only he can tell us that. I didn’t see a frack’in thing while I was rolling and tumbling. I know that it’s a proven method for evading detection, but I feel like a fifth wheel on these missions to that scanner. Chuckling Myosha pats the junior officer’s shoulder.
“Join the club! When you get to this position, you’ll appreciate your time in the cockpit.”
From the tactical officer’s station, he bellows out.
“Colonel! The scans are ready for your review.”
Leading Gisela to the central display, she brings up the fruits of her 2 hour scan. At first the only discernable objects are rocks and dust clouds, until finally Myosha highlights the floating station. Scrutinizing the area, she nods her head in approval.
“Well done. It appears that we are the first to it. There would be substantial clear areas if a ship tried docking recently. As she turns to the navigator, the tactical officer yells to look back at the display. Rewinding the recording, Myosha watches in horror as a single Cylon fighter jumps into the far edge of the field, scans the entire area and jumps back out after seven minutes. Commending the officer, she turns to Gisela.
“Good work Lieutenant. The Admiral and I will confer. Get some chow and rest.”
Heartbroken at the turn of events, Gisela leaves and makes her way to her bunk and collapses in a well-deserved nap.

Drifting over the tactical displays and technical readouts, Admiral Florus sits with her key commanders discussing the singular decision at hand. With all the plans laid out, Doneatha kept returning to the same question of whether or not the risk was worth it. With an unknown number of forces, the risk seemed excessive to half her staff while the other half felt it was warranted. For Doneatha it was an impasse.
“Commanders, until we can get some definitive numbers of their size and compliment, we can’t move; the risk is too extreme.”
Galen Tobber, a young commander in his mid-thirties with chestnut hair, struggles to contain his disagreement.
“But they could be just a patrol from a single basestar! We can handle it!”
Myosha couldn’t help but input her opinions on the subject; she cared little for bureaucracy and even leas for pleasantries.
“And it could be a scout from a full division of basestars! We don’t know for certain! It will be suicide to commit our forces to a supply run which we could have to hold off an unknown number and strength while our cargo ships strip the depot. Even if we just find and unload the essential items, we’re still looking at 8 hours, minimum! They send a scout every 4 to 10 hours…very irregularly.”
Across the table, Admiral Florus clears her throat and ends the debate.
“Enough. I can’t risk the fleet in this manner. Until I see some definitive intel, resupply at this depot is impractical.”
Commander Hemic stands to speak.
“How about that civilian pilot of yours? Doesn’t she have some ultra-advanced ship and systems? Perhaps she can shine some light on the Cylon locations or disposition?”
Myosha raises her eyebrow having overlooked her value. Her sacrifice in recovering the survivors hardly went unnoticed by the fleet. The scuttlebutt among the fleet was far more reliable than wireless communications at times.
Admiral Florus nods.
“Not a bad idea. I will arrange a meeting with her tonight and discuss it. Colonel Huron? Would you please invite our guest to dinner in four hours? There will be eight of us attending…including you.”
Myosha smiles cordially, remembering how much she hated formal functions.
As she approaches Bay 18, now renamed the ‘Dragon’s Den’ for it was the berthing area for Kreysta’s ship, she saw the guards were keeping a watchful eye on it from across the bay. Not only had she been accepted by the majority of the crew on the flight deck, even security viewed her as a member of the crew versus an outsider. Mentally noting to “discuss” it with their security commander afterwards, she strides up to the ship and pokes her head under the ship. From inside she clearly hears Kreysta talking endlessly, and it seems as if someone might be conversing with her, but she can’t discern any other voice than Kreysta. Agitated, Kreysta continues bickering on, but Myosha can only discern a slight buzz in the air, but nothing more. Waiting a few minutes, Myosha clears her throat and calls out to her. After a few seconds delay, Kreysta’s small voice beckons her to come up instead.
Wearing her veil, she adjusts her coveralls by zipping them up the rest of the way and walking out from under her ship to speak. Myosha gingerly tries to find the best avenue to ask their esteemed guest.
“Did I interrupt you talking to your ship?”
Kreysta looks at her strangely and then realizes what Myosha heard.
“Oh! Um…yes. I was talking to my ship. What can I help you with?”
Myosha responds realizing her attempt at small talk was a devastating failure.
“Yes…we…Admiral Florus would like you to join her…us for dinner. It is not much, but you can get the chance and sit down and meet the leaders of our fleet. Many people are still extremely thankful for your help.”
Grinning warmly, she nods.
“It would be my pleasure. When will you come get me?”
Surprised, Myosha thinks rapidly and squeaks out.
“In four of our hours?”
Kreysta nods once again.
“I look forward to it. Be well.”
Exchanging subtle bows, she disappears back into her ship and Myosha skips back to her quarters to make sure she has a dress uniform for the evening.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Battlestar Titanica