Day 749 of the second Cylon war
Charlotte Gordon, call sign “Queen” was known as the CAG from hell. Her pilots swore she was twice as mean as Saul Tigh. She kept a black leather horse whip, visible in her locker and had been rumored to use it in her private life.
She sat on the bottom bunk in the pilots quarters on the Saturn, her caramel skin seemed to have lost a little luster. The never ending banter that normally flowed like water out of a firehose was muted as she stretched her arms back like a cat.
The task force, currently commanded by the Battlestar Athena’s Steven Evans had fought two battles in a time plan that was supposed to include a single engagement followed by a 12 hour layover. The first engagement had been a slaughter, an easy victory. Their jump stop had landed them right on top of a Cylon convoy. Neither side had planned for combat.
The Colonials had come ready for immediate battle, the Cylons had been running a logistics task force. The later had been unprepared and they had been melted in under two minutes. Still the guns had roared and the missiles shot and most of the pilots had to go through an unplanned launch and landing cycle.
The second planned battle, the one they had prepared for was also a one sided victory. It had lasted an intense 40 minutes. This was followed by keeping the entire air wing in a 16 hour rotating patrol. This had been needed to protect the fleet as damaged armor was replaced, and supplies off loaded from the two civilian ships that were carrying their ammunition and basic supplies.
Day 748 of the second Cylon war had started in battle, lasted until 2315 hours and the next combat jump and battle was planned for less than nine hours after its conclusion.
It was now 0645 ships time. Gordon dragged her aching 32 year old, athletically built form from the bed, yawning and stretching twice. She stroked the black leather horse whip, which was rumored to get used in her private life, her expression uncharacteristically blank. So this is what it felt like to be dog tired.
“Commanders log, main colonial task force. This is Commander, Stephen Evans, task force commander. We are about to engage on our third jump in 24 hours. The first was an accident as we jumped into a Cylon convoy. It was a jump point on our way to our plan battle. We were prepared for battle. The enemy was not. It ended for them in less than two minutes. The second battle. Also, it was in our favor, was much more intense and longer. Make a third jump in order to distract the Cylon’s from something. Admiral, Eva Lawson does not say what we are distracting the enemy from. It’s definitely not the battle stars Saturn in Athena. With Commander Ramirez, down with the sunspot fever, falls on me to come in this task force.”
“Again the Cylons are at ur rally point. We need to figure out why they keep showing up here”
* * *
Yes, the situation grew more dire, Commander Maria Ramirez, donned a couple of masks drag herself out of bed and sick bay isolation.
She felt the chill of fever gripping her body as she walked through the halls the ship. The action stations alarm drowned away as usual. The ship was rocked by hits, both conventional and possibly nuclear. She shuddered, willing herself to overcome the virus.
She had already coughed her throat raw and lost her voice. A hand on the shoulder of the helms operator got the man out of his seat. She settled into it, looking up at the DRADIS seeing nukes coming in from the right, past the overworked air wing.
A new station had been pried into CIC. It had a chair, a small, high resolution DRADIS display, a Vipers control stick and a throttle. After making eye contact with the XO, she accelerated the massive battlestar, banking it right as hard as she could.
The damage control station was visible from the helm. Commander Ramirez saw that the right side armor was degrading quickly. A Base Star had jumped the right it was pouring a continuous salvo of missiles into the side of the Saturn. What was necessary is was return the port side of the ship with it’s intact armor to face the inbound missiles. That in flack might save the ship. Commander Ramirez was not sure anything would save the ship, but she had to try it.
With hand signals and eye contact, she communicated this urgent need to the executive officer who nodded in agreement and took care of getting the damage control parties dispatched, and gave instructions to the guns.
Suddenly there was another blast. The lights went dark and stay dark for way too long commander. Ramirez wondered what it sounded like the whole started to disintegrate. The noise was terrible.
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