Book 4:Chapter 13: “Disrupt Toasters”

New Helios: Present day fleet exercise:

Vice Admiral Steven Evans sat impatiently in the Executive Officers quarters on the Battlestar Athena. His body ached with the wear and tear of 75 years since birth. He was tired, and felt every one of those years.

The uniform felt like it was irritating his skin. A stretch and a yawn made him feel all 57 of his years of service in the Colonial fleet.

He wondered what he was doing here. As long as he and his wife Amelia Evans drew breath, they would draw pay and have their rank. It had been made crystal clear to him that decades of political infighting for the budget had ended his usefulness to the fleet.

The hearing about the fate of the battlestar Mercury and task force Mercury had gone about as well as he had predicted. Several fiscally conservative members of the quorum and the peoples council had bitched about the amount of fuel that had been burned to take the Athena out on this mission.

Thirty nine, nearly forty years had passed without direct confrontation with the Cylons. The outcome of the “Galactica war” had been discovered. As far as Evans knew, no humanoid Cylons had ever been encountered.

Nobody knew where the second earth was, and nobody was particularly interested in finding a single base star, exploring the cosmos.

Equally obvious, was that there were a lot of classic, first war toasters out there, exploring the galaxy. The budget for space exploration had been gutted and cut to the bone several times. The political aspirations of many mid-grade Colonial Fleet officers had been sacrificed in this long running battle.

The door to the cabin opened. Two women entered the quarters. Admiral Evans took note of the marine guards that were posted outside the room.

Evans was taken aback, when he recognized, Corey Brooks, former president of the New Helios Colonies, and his successor, Vice Admiral Samantha Wilson walked in.

Though it meant some pain, a former Colonial president rated him getting out of his seat.

“As you were,” Admiral Wilson ordered, gently placing a paper folder and a tablet computer on the desk.

“What is this?” Evans asked with an incredulous expression on his face. “I had an appointment with my son on leave and a boat on Lake Caprica.

“You don’t think you get to drop a shit-sandwich in my lap and spend the rest of your days, napping and sipping beer, did you?” Admiral Wilson asked. He had always found it impossible to read his former subordinates’ thoughts.

Corey Brook’s presence in the room was very interesting. After two five year terms as president of New Helios, her attempt at a third term was defeated by a landslide. 

Too many decisions in too many areas had doomed her political career.

“One of the functions of former presidents,” Brooks began. “Is to deal with uncomfortable situations. Situations that might paralyze the current government. Situations that might cause such instability, it might set off a civil war.

“Open the first paper folder,” Wilson ordered.

Admiral Evans read carefully. It read like a diplomatic complaint. It complained about territorial incursions and lost property. The dates were all during the past two weeks. “What the Frak is this?”

He put the folder on the table. In it was a time and date stamped digital photo of the Battlestar Mercury. 

“This is a complaint from the ambassador of the Cylon, a humanoid model six for property damage done to her colony by forces from the Battlestar Mercury.” Brooks explained.

“Ambassador of what?” Evans asked.

“Twelve years after we settled New Helios, a small transport ship crewed with three models of Cylon, showed up and hailed our patrol. They explained that they were trapped by the Cylon civil war, and they wanted to live their lives in peace with the humans of New Helios,” Brooks explained.

“I decided it was better to admit them quietly, then to leave them on the outside, with knowledge of operation magic trick and where we were.”

“But you weren’t president,” Evans objected.

“President Burke agreed that this should be handled quietly, by me.” Brooks continued. “The problem was that these were not the only toasters in the wild. All six surviving models made peace with each other and established a Colony at star system M172.”

“That is right near our Tylium mine,” Admiral Evans said.

“Exactly,” Admiral Wilson. “They established a few outposts, and defended themselves with first war centurions. There were encounters and even a skirmish at the second Tylium mine.”

“When did you find out about this secret Admiral Wilson?” Evans asked.

“The day you left to document the fate of the Mercury,” answered the Admiral.

“The point here is that in order to avoid another war, there was a peace treaty between the Cylons and New Helios. These Cylons were not able to procreate. We figured the problem would take care of itself over the next few decades.” Corey Brooks motioned to the second file.

“In order to preserve the knowledge of humankind, Doctor Fred Manson at the University of New Tauron, took it upon himself to try and reconstruct Cylon resurrection technology. He hoped it would lead to immortality for all humans if it could be used to ‘download’ at the end of their natural lives.” Brooks folded her hands and gave Admiral Evan’s the opportunity to absorb the information.

“Doctor Manson ran into difficulties, including a group of centurions and elderly Cylon model ones who were very interested in this technology. Doctor Manson has disappeared, he failed to return from a research expedition three years ago.”

“This is a frakking disaster,” Evans frowned.

“The first war toasters were more than content to live quietly and manufacture spare parts to keep their line going. Until two and a half weeks ago.”

“What happened then?” Evans asked, still wanting to pinch himself, in case he was dreaming.

“The battlestar Mercury happened then. Instead of dying in a black hole, she popped into a system three hundred thousand light years away. She began to seize supplies and head for home.”

“Let me guess,” Evans shook his head. “She is storming through space headed in this general direction. Of course she is.”

“We need task Force Mercury to disappear. They need to get destroyed or head away from here. We have managed to live in peace with the Cylons for nearly 3 decades here,” Brooks said.

“So my mission is to find her and tell her to die, or run away?” Evans sounded angry.

“You could state things a little more delicately.” Admiral Wilson warned with an angry look.

“You damned well know, I am not taking that frakking mission.  Admiral Eva Lawson is a hero who cooked up the crazy scheme that has us with what, like 24 million colonists in it. She led the military that saved humanity.”

Corey Brooks sighed, her own physical condition revealed by aches, gray hair and sagging skin. “We need her to take another fall for the Colonies.” Brooks urged.

“Will the Cylons listen to reason? If a cease fire is declared, we can give task force Mercury an escort home. That is a better plan.”

Admiral Wilson looked at the pair of elderly people. They looked like they might have a wrestling match right there in these quarters.

“If you can convince Lawson, or whoever is running that fleet to stop blowing up toasters three times a day, we might be able to talk about something. 

“The other thing you will need to do is find the Cylon resurrection laboratory that Doctor Manson established and shut the project down. If the Cylons get resurrection technology they might just want to start building an empire.” Corey Brooks finished. She folded her arthritic hands into a tent.

“So basically, my mission orders are to screw Yevka Lawson, and then if I live long enough destroy the only chance Cylons have for a future. Does that sum it up?”

“Your task force consists of two Valkyrie class battlestars and a couple of support ships. Good hunting Admiral Evans. Just not too much hunting if you don’t mind.” Admiral Wilson nodded.