The mutiny story was a suggestion of Mullroy234 from the BSG Deadlock discord.
Lockheart, Ward, Wilson and the representatives of six other ships all agreed that Zack “Sniper” Anthony should be their leader. His record with the Colonial fleet was not tainted like the others. He was on leave the day the Cylons attacked and had turned down offers from Lawson and Ramirez to take command of the Athena and Acropolis to remain CAG on a Valkyrie, due to his opposition to their leadership style and willingness to submit to budget cuts.
Thirty years old, with a handsome, athletic build, with the olive skin common on Tauron, he looked the part of the hero, saving the Colonial fleet from doom.
“They will be back from the refinery grab and in a good mood. We line up our forces to salute their victory and when Mercury passes, we hammer her topside. We want to knock out her fire control and FTL and demand Lawsons surrender.”
Everyone in the group of 8 nodded agreement. Ward and Wilson were snickering.
“If we do the right damage, she will go along. If she is weak, she will offer a meeting, which we will accept on the shipyard. No compromise there. She will come over by raptor. We surround it with marines in the repair bay. She either resigns or we end her command, starting with her. We announce my promotion to Admiral backed up by three allies on the Peoples Council.”
“Then what?” Lockheart asked.
“We move swiftly. We jump the three big battlestars to New Picon and we eliminate the Council and declare martial law. We take any resources we need and prepare for the offensive to eliminate the Cylons.”
“Do we have to destroy the civilian government?” A Marine officer asked. “Won’t the people rallying around us give us the authority we need?”
“We have to be strong. We can return to civilian rule after the war is won. We need 20,000 human resources to get ourselves into offensive shape. The people will rally around success.”
“Perhaps if we make demands of the civilian government,” Ward suggested. “They might be willing to listen.”
“If we do not act boldly we will get mired in negotiations, the toasters will get wind of it and wipe us out. You have asked me to be your leader. Now take an order. We do this my way or I am out. I have the moral authority of having a good record in the Colonial fleet.”
“Also not being a whore!” Wilson added.
“Call her any name you want,” Anthony ran a hand through his dark brown hair. “She is a gifted officer who will kill you where you stand if she gets the chance. Ramirez is a geek. She is not sure of herself. She might submit to us.”
* * *
There was a failed jump drive that had to be repaired at the midpoint of the journey back to fleet headquarters, the shipyard. It took 45 minutes to repair. They sent raptors ahead to alert the command to the impending Cylon threat.
“All ships report ready to jump,” the communications officer reported.
“All right,” Admiral Lawson played with her hair, which was falling out of the tight military bun in bunches. “We’ll set up a perimeter and get the ships in need of repairs taken care of first. Commander Ramirez, are you ready to take task force Saturn back to base?”
“Ready and eager.”
“Make the jump.” Lawson ordered.
After the jump, music blared on the communications channels. The DRADIS showed some ships moving in their direction.
“This is Solaria actual,” the voice crackled on the speaker. “We are here to congratulate Admiral Lawson on the successful mission to seize the Cylon refineries.”
“Was this mission classified?”Lawson asked rhetorically. She knew that there was no such thing as a secret on a warship. “Tell them to get the hell out of the way so we can get our damaged ships into the repair berths.”
“They are not replying to our orders Sir,” communications reported. Crews were sweeping up the remains of two shattered CIC doors.
“They are coming in too close,” warned an NCO at the DRADIS console.
“This is damned odd.” Lawson remarked. “Repeat message.”
“Missile lock. Missile lock. The Apollo and Solaria have missile lock!”
Chaos broke out and everyone was talking at once. The sound of battlestar guns impacting on the hull was next.
“Inbound missiles. We have inbound missiles coming in topside..”
All the glass shattered on all the remaining CIC doors.
All the lights went dark and emergency power kicked in. Red lights were flashing everywhere.
“This is Admiral Anthony of the Colonial preservation league. Admiral Lawson you are ordered to surrender your command. You are charged with consorting with the enemy and allowing the destruction of our war effort.”
“Who the frak is that?”
“Fire control is down. FTL is offline. We can’t get away.” Engineering painted the grim picture.
“I am going to stall for time. Get that fire control back online. FTL is a must as well. Get me repair estimates, but put them on paper, don’t speak them aloud. Give me the frakking phone.”
“This is Mercury actual. Who am I speaking to?”
“This is Solaria actual. Admiral Zachary Anthony of the CPL. You are ordered to surrender your ship and board a raptor for the Fleet HQ. There you will formally give up your command.”
“You should be aware, Mister Anthony,” she deliberately avoided mentioning the man’s rank while someone dug through the personnel database. “That the refinery operation failed. It was a Cylon trap and they are on their way right now to attack this shipyard.”
“Nice Try Admiral,” Anthony said. “You have two minutes to get in the raptor and fly to HQ.”
“Or what?” Lawson asked as a repair estimate was waved in her face. FTL would take an hour to repair. Fire control required ten minutes to be brought up. The topside armor was gone and there was severe hull damage. “You planning on opening fire on the flagship? That is not going to do the war effort any good. I’ve got lives at stake here. I will be on that raptor in fifteen minutes.”
“Ten,” Anthony warned.
“Ten it is,” Lawson agreed. She ran a hand across her throat indicating that she wanted the transmission cut.
“Have our forces gather at the shipyard. We will kick in the burn when we need. Where is Ramirez? The Saturn?”
“They did not make the jump.”
“We need them. Have the Apollo send a force recon, two assault raptors, one recon bird.”
“DRADIS. Contacts. Three base stars seven support ships.”
“Full burn. We need to get to Athena and the rest of the fleet.”
“You won’t fool us with those DRADIS hacks,” Anthony’s voice rattled on the monitor.
“Should we tell him?” The XO whispered in her ear.
“No.” Lawson said harshly. “Either they figure it out or the Cylons solve our mutiny problem for us.”
“They are moving away from us and preparing to battle the Cylon fleet,” the tactical officer reported.
“Leave them to fight for themselves,” Lawson said in a cold voice.
“We lost the Apollo” a faceless voice reported.
“Aren’t we going to need those ships for the battle against the Cylons,” the XO suggested.
“They just made themselves into cannon fodder.”
“Losing the Ascension, a Artemis,” reported a female voice thick with emotion.
“Radiological alarm,” tactical reported. “They have nukes!”
“Aimed at us or Anthony’s fleet?” Lawson asked stone faced.
“Not us Sir.”
“Aren’t we going to help them!” blurted the XO. “They made a mistake but they have fought on our side for two years now!”
“XO damage report. How many dead and wounded did we take?” Lawson’s face could have been carved into the side of a mountain.
“We took 21 dead and 200 wounded according to sick bay,” the XO said.
“No we are not going to help them,” Lawson said. “First there are more Cylons headed our way. Second, they opened fire on Colonial forces in an act of mutiny. They sentenced themselves to death, I am just applying it in an special way.”
“Another Artemis Sir,” said an angry voice.
“The mutineer’s are getting slaughtered,” the XO another new one Major Brett Peterson, about aged 35. He was a Major now, the talk, skinny blond haired man had been a CAG with the rank of captain a week earlier.
“Better to use Cylon ammo,” Lawson said in a cruel, callous tone.
“Solaria is spooling up FTL, getting ready to jump.”
“Jump the shipyard to emergency coordinates,” Lawson ordered. “Those Valkyries that stayed out of the battle, tell them they are in our task force.”
“Shipyard reports they have damage, could be an hour before they jump.”
“Tell them they might not have an hour,” Lawson retorted.
Ensign Darryl Winston, a short, overweight brilliant DRADIS operator spoke next. “I have an energy surge. Cylons will be jumping in any second. Could be up to ten ships.”
“Get organized,” Lawson barked. “Be ready to take command of mutinous squadrons once the base carrier is destroyed. Athena send recon, find out where the frak Ramirez and task force Saturn is.”
One of the Ramirez hackers, who had been promoted to IT chief after her elevation, Lev Warner cleared his throat and go Lawson’s attention. “We have the toaster attack plans,” he said in a voice that sounded routine.
“Tell us Head Geek,” The XO said softly, using the man’s call sign.
“Three waves. The first wave is designated to take care of the mutiny, which the toasters knew about. The second wave is going after the shipyard. The third will come only if the second fails. In the next five minutes, if the shipyard is still year its going to get smoked.”
“You have the attack deployments?” Lawson asked.
With a click of a button they came on screen.
“All right, get these assignments out. Set up a pair of ships to hit the jump in positions of the base stars.
A wave of of ordinance struck the ship, causing a thunderous echo that was felt through out the ship.
Everyone did their jobs professionally. The damage to the fire control systems limited how much Mercury could participate in the battle.
“We have a three gunships coming in low, trying to smash through our lower fleet!” Tactical warned.
“Have the Valkyries give them a broadside. Crash turn starboard,” the XO ordered.
“We have in bounds. We have five base stars coming in high!”
“Get me a status on the shipyard FTL Gods damn it!” Lawson barked.
The engineering CIC officer who was on the wireless with the shipyard nodded his head in the negative.
“Recon raptor is back Sir. Task force Saturn has been engaged by a large Cylon task force,” the deck flight officer shouted to be heard after the chaos.
“I’ve got more on the Cylon attack plans,” Head Geek reported. “They have several task forces assigned to hit the new Colonies. This is the big one Sir.”
There was nothing Admiral Lawson could do but crack the pen in her hands in two and drop the pieces to the deck, where they mingled with shattered door glass.
There was a small recording probe above the fleet. An alert person put this feed on the largest monitor in the cramped CIC. It showed the Cylons above the station and an Artemis, trying to use its hull to shield the shipyard.
“The second wave is getting ready to pull out,” Warner reported. “We have inflicted heavy casualties. Estimate one or two minutes before the final wave comes in.”
The Cylons jumped away, and two Valkyries jumped in announcing their loyalty. The XO ordered them to form up with the remaining elements of the fleet and prepare for the next wave.
They did not have to wait long.
“Five Base Stars just jumped in. They are out of gun range and are spooling up for a tactical jump.”
It was really all over in about 30 seconds. A Base Star sacrificed itself, jumping into a collision with the shipyard.
“That is it for the shipyard.”
Lawson stared at the burning debris as the Cylons turned their remaining ordinance on the smaller ships of this task force.
“Sir the FTL drives themselves are salvageable. We can build a new mobile shipyard,” the engineering officer reported in a skeptical voice.
“Cylons are jumping away,” tactical reported. “The salvage teams will have the FTL drives secure in fifteen minutes.
“That is just frakking great. Plot a jump to New Picon,” Lawson ordered. The second fall, that of the new Colonies needed to be averted.
“We’ve lost most of our task force,” the XO growled. “I have emergency repairs on the fire control and the FTL drives. We could really use a couple of hours to deploy replacement armor topside.”
“Do we have time Head Geek?” Lawson asked.
“We’ve got a raptor in from New Picon,” Communications reported. “Cylon base stars have jumped into orbit. They have radiological alarms.”