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Escape of the Bellerophon

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Posted 08 May 2008 - 12:00 PM

This is my lil' piece of fanfic I wrote. It's currently ongoing, so I won't post the whole of what I've written so far. This is the "miniseries", so to speak. I'll post more stuff if you guys like it.

F12 – Fall of the Twelve. Dates are given F12 + days.

F12 -1

Commander Halstrom wearily slumped down on the couch in his quarters aboard the Battlestar Bellerophon. His ship had just docked with the Cyprian shipyard on the fringes of the system for a long overhaul of systems. Tomorrow the sublight engines and FTL drive would be tested, then the battlestar would be committed to full dry dock, and he would be sitting on his arse for the next year or so.

He was proud of his ship, dammit. So what if the entire damn Colonial Fleet looked down on Bellerophon as the pariah of the fleet, he was secure in his conviction that the Bel was the greatest frakking ship ever commissioned into the service of the Twelve Colonies.

There was a knock on the door. Halstrom glanced at it, then back at the stack of papers on his desk. “Go ahead.”

The door swung open and the XO, Colonel Anton Granger, entered the spacious living quarters. He was a tall, intimidating man of forty-five years with piercing blue eyes, and his thick black hair was only just starting to grey.

“You’re still awake?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Ship never sleeps.”

“I envy it.”

“Well, these next few months are going to be exciting.” A look of distaste crossed the XO’s face. “Don’t seem right. The Bel didn’t deserve this. She’s a Mercury class battlestar, for frak’s sake! Not like that old bucket Galactica, that damn thing’s fifty years old, it’s about frakking time she was decommissioned, but the Bel? She’s barely been designed!”

“Difference is, the Galactica isn’t suffering crippling malfunctions all the time. And the Bel’s not being decommissioned. The old girl’ll be operational soon enough, when the kinks have been ironed out.”

Now the XO looked disgusted. “Instead, we have to bear the Pegasus receiving all the adulation for being a perfect example of the Fleet, with that damn upstart Cain in command –“

The Commander looked up sharply. “Cain deserves her posting, she’s a rising star. I was in the officer training academy with her. We were friends.”

The XO raised his eyebrows.

“More than friends,” acknowledged the Commander. “Ancient history.”

“Yeah, well...”

“You’re bitter because the Pegasus is hogging all the glory. Our time’ll come, Anton, mark my words. My time’ll come, your time’ll come, the Bel’s time’ll come. Ambrosia?” Halstrom proffered glasses seeming conjured up out of nowhere, along with a bottle of Aerelon’s finest.

“No, thank you. I’d better be calling it a day. Busy day tomorrow, test firing engines and all. Gods.” The XO kept muttering to himself as he walked out the door. Halstrom could hear him grumbling all the way down the corridor, and smiled to himself.


“Roger that, Bellerophon, you’re all clear. Safe flight.”

Bellerophon disengaged from the shipyard, umbilicals and jetties retracting from its hull. The shipyard’s navigational computer guided the massive battlestar out of its cradle and into open space.

“Well, that’s a good start,” murmured the XO. The Commander looked at him over the tactical table. “Well, we didn’t blow up, did we? The weapons didn’t start firing at random? The jumpdrive didn’t decide to jump us into the sun –”

“I get the picture,” muttered Halstrom. He picked up the communications handset. “This is Bellerophon Actual, thank you, Cypria. See you when we get back.”

The battlestar manoeuvred away from the shipyard, heading into deep space. Without the fancy new navigational software being introduced to the fleet – no one had bothered outfitting Bellerophon with it, a waste of time for a ship about to be dry-docked – the battlestar’s course had to be manually set.

“Sublight engines are online and working,” reported the navigation officer. “No hitches so far.”

“That implies, Mr Nyder, that there will be hitches in the near future,” said the Commander, swinging around to fix the navigation officer with a penetrative stare. “Is that what you wanted to infer?”

“N-no sir-“

“Glad to hear it.” The Commander turned around to face his XO.

“Nothing on DRADIS,” reported the XO, looking at the DRADIS console. “No civilian or military traffic out here, we’re all clear.”

“Who can blame them,” muttered the Commander. He faced the crew. “Since there’s no hurry...we received the retirement speech Commander Adama gave on the Galactica, and I think we should all hear it. Put the audio on speaker, please.”

“Yes sir.”

“Why do you want to hear what that old man’s got to say?” murmured the XO. “Another old friend?”

“We’ve met before. I respect him. The Galactica’s a ship worthy of anyone’s respect. And, of course, misery loves company – his career’s over.”

Granger looked at his CO, and said in a low voice, “We have not been shit listed.”

“I hope not, I really do. But his frak-up in command of the Valkyrie last year dwarfs any problems with my command, so...”

The voice of William Adama rattled out of the speakers in the CIC.

“The Cylon War is long over, yet we must not forget the reasons why so many sacrificed so much in the cause of freedom. The cost of wearing the uniform can be high, but sometimes it's too high.

You know, when we fought the Cylons, we did it to save ourselves from extinction. But we never answered the question, why? Why are we as a people worth saving? We still commit murder because of greed, spite, jealousy. And we still visit all of our sins upon our children. We refuse to accept the responsibility for anything that we've done. Like we did with the Cylons. We decided to play God, create life. When that life turned against us, we comforted ourselves in the knowledge that it really wasn't our fault, not really. You cannot play God then wash your hands of the things that you've created. Sooner or later, the day comes when you can't hide from the things that you've done anymore. “

Granger glanced over at Halstrom. “Profound. I bet that went down well.”

Halstrom was silent.

“Well, the old man’s seen combat, at least. Then again, we haven’t seen the toasters in a long time – ”

The Commander held up a finger. “A long time is not equal to ever. They’ll be back. Maybe tomorrow, maybe another forty years. But they will be back. And we cannot let that escape us or the entire human race is damned. We’ve grown complacent – we know the Cylons are adept at infiltrating any sort of computer network.”

“How long until we reach the designated co-ordinates?”

“Couple of hours. We’ll perform a jump to Sagitarron, check all the systems are functioning, jump back here, then dock back at Cypria and rot for a few months.”

Halstrom nodded. “The CIC is yours, Colonel. I should take a break, been looking at too much gods-damned paperwork.”


“Call me if I’m needed.”


The phone was buzzing. Halstrom blearily looked up from the book he was reading, any chance of sleep having eluded him, and grasped for the handset.


“Commander Halstrom...sir...uh...”

The colonel sounded shaken. Halstrom had not heard him so unsteady for years.
“What is it, Anton?”

“Fleet wide message from...Picon Fleet Headquarters...message reads...Cylon attack underway. ” The last three words were enunciated very precisely and clearly. “Message ends.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The CIC was deathly silent when Halstrom entered. A visibly shaking Colonel Granger handed him a message. The Commander briefly scanned the paper, then slowly lowered it.

“This is authenticated?”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a moment’s silence. He turned to the CAG, Captain Hathaway.

“What’s the status of our Viper squadrons?”

“Offline, sir. We’ll need to fuel and arm them. That’s not the main problem, though - the CNP and the associated avionics have been removed, too, they’ll have to be flown with full manual control.”

“Damn. Main batteries and defence guns, Mr Fulcrum?”

The gunnery officer consulted his console. “Currently offline, we can bring them up to full combat readiness in about half an hour. ”

“Do that, then. We’ll continue our jump to Sagitarron, see what we can do.”

The navigation officer cleared his throat.

“Sir, without the CNP, calculation is going to take a while – ”

“So get to it, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned to the XO. “Condition One throughout the ship.”

“Yes sir.” The Colonel picked up the intercom and steadied himself. “Set Condition One throughout the ship. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill. Stand by for enemy contact.”


Some time later, Bellerophon jumped into orbit around Sagitarron into a complete chaos.

“DRADIS contact! Three battlestars and...and four basestars. Innumerable civilian ships. Orders, sir?”

The Commander considered. Four battlestars against four baseships. “Identify and establish communications with the other battlestars. We’ll take the fight to the enemy.”

“Uh...sir...Colonial ships are not responding. They appear to be...drifting. Like they’re powerless...”

“Nuclear detonation!”

One of the basestars sent multiple nuclear missiles at one battlestar, identified as the Jupiter, a Venus class. Instead of throwing up defensive fire, the Jupiter just floated through space serenely, as though nothing was happening. The missiles hit and detonated. Jupiter survived the first salvo, her armour absorbing the damage, but then each basestar sent a salvo to pummel Jupiter, again and again. She simply kept taking it until finally a gargantuan detonation signalled her end.

“Dear gods, why didn’t she defend? It’s as if the Cylons just switched her off!” The colonel looked aghast.

Those four words echoed around Halstrom’s mind. Just switched her off... “Systems status!” he barked.

“Fully operational, sir.”

“Are the computers networked?”

“Lieutenant Jobham is working on it – ”

“Tell him to cease and desist immediately! Dismantle any networks that already exist! Dear gods, I hope I’m wrong...” Halstrom studied the DRADIS, chewing his lip. Another helpless battlestar, the Mjolnir, died.

The XO looked at him. “You think they shut down our ships that way? By infiltrating secure military networks?”

“Yes, I do,” snapped Halstrom. “I would appreciate an alternative explanation, believe me I would. One hundred and twenty battlestars, all rendered completely helpless. How many personnel on a battlestar alone? Not to mention all other military vessels? Quite apart from anything else, our colonies are completely undefended!”

The bridge officers shared uneasy glances.

“Sir! The basestars...frak, they’re nuking Sagitarron! Two of them! The other is turning...towards us! Frak! Raiders, inbound!”

Halstrom turned to the CAG. “Vipers?”

“Nearly online, sir! Five minutes!”

“Get to your ship, Captain. Launch the moment you’re able.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Main batteries, firing solution on the basestar. Fire when ready.”

Bellerophon thundered in towards the basestar like the wrath of an ancient god. It became quite clear that whoever or whatever was operating the basestar was not expecting Bellerophon to be able to actually fight back, choosing to close with its target. Its mistake.

Bellerophon’s forward batteries spoke, although the only sound vibrated through the ship’s bow. The heavy anti-ship projectiles silently roared through the stasis of space to impact on the central hub of the basestar’s arms, dealing heavy damage. The next salvo crippled it, tearing off one of its arms and sending it drifting through space. The third slammed into something critically deep, touching off a reactor or something.
The basestar detonated like a small sun.

“Incoming ordnance!”

The cost of Bellerophon’s relentless advance towards the basestar was inflicted by the doomed ship’s complement of Raiders. Kinetic missiles slammed into the mighty battlestar, wrenching off armour plate and shaking the ship down to the core. Personnel were thrown about by the force of the blows.

“Launch Vipers!”

Bellerophon’s Vipers caused an immediate reaction in the attacking Cylon Raiders. As the Vipers joined the fight, Bellerophon detected a transmission aimed at the Vipers that bore the hallmarks of a computer virus.

Which had no effect whatsoever.

“Weapons free!”

A vicious dogfight surrounded the battlestar as the Raiders and Vipers engaged. The Viper pilot’s battle chatter echoed around the otherwise silent CIC. The Raiders were clearly disconcerted – caught by surprise by the Viper counterattack, they were cut to pieces.

The last remaining battlestar succumbed to the inevitable, disappearing in a silent flash in the void. The ship’s disappearance on DRADIS cut the commander to his soul. He never caught the name.

“We can’t win this fight. Broadcast to the civilian ships: form up on Bellerophon. We need to save as many as we can.”

“Aye, sir.”

Bellerophon manoeuvred its way between the basestars and civilian ships, sending up a curtain of defensive fire to absorb the incoming attacks. The Vipers turned to engage the Raider squadrons disengaging from their baseships.

“That should buy us some time. Are we through to the civilians?”

“Yes, sir. Blanket signal.”

"Very well, send the following." The comms officer nodded.

“Bellerophon to civilian ships: We will attempt to cover your escape. We will transmit co-ordinates over a secure channel and you will jump. We will join you shortly and we will salvage whatever we can from this mess.”

The commander glanced at the navigation officer. “Got a plotted jump ready?”

“Yes, sir. It’ll take us to an empty part of the system, there’s nothing there of any importance. It’s the best I could come up with quickly.”

“That’s fine, Lieutenant. Transmit. Secure Colonial channel.”

The civilian ships began jumping. One by one, they disappeared from DRADIS. Meanwhile, Bellerophon took hit after hit. The battlestar was a tough old beast, but it could not hold out forever, not against the brutal simultaneous pounding of three baseships and their Raiders at once, and no one knew this better than the commander.

“Last civilian ship is away!”

“Bring our pilots back. Combat landings.”

“Bellerophon to all Vipers, come on home, repeat, come on home.”

The Vipers began crashing down into the Bellerophon’s landing bays, all finesse abandoned in an effort to get out of the lethal maelstrom of ordnance being hurled through space at the warship. One Viper was killed as it entered the bay, slamming off a bulkhead and colliding with a stationary Raptor, totalling both ships, spilling tylium fuel across the deck.

“All Vipers aboard!”

The commander took one last look at the readouts representing the boiling turmoil of nuclear detonations spreading across the doomed planet beneath him.


The Bellerophon disappeared.


And reappeared into a chaotic mess of ships.

Panicked comms chatter drowned out any attempt at communication. The XO looked hopelessly at his CO.

Even now, with the human race about to end, the frakking civilians would not shut up. The commander rolled his eyes.

“I want a headcount. The number of ships, at least.”

“DRADIS shows thirty civilian ships, sir.”


“Aye, sir.”

“Approximate number of people on board?”

“About...15,000, sir, I’d guess.”


“DRADIS contact!”

An unknown contact flashed up on DRADIS, on an intercept course.

“Set Condition one throughout the ship!” roared Halstrom. “Launch the alert Vipers!”

“We don’t have any co-ordinates set for a jump, sir.”

“I know. Battle stations. Arm main batteries. We’ll try and knock out the bastard before he closes -”

A second contact showed up.


“They’re launching!”

A multitude of small specks suddenly surrounded the larger contacts and started speeding toward the fleet.
The communications officer suddenly gripped his console, staring hard at the screen.

“Wait...I’m...I’m picking up...Colonial transponders...”

“Well just don’t accept Colonial ID, confirm it!” The XO scuttled across the CIC.

“The codes are confirmed, they’re authentic. They’re ours. My gods, someone else got away. We’re being hailed, sir.”

“On speakers.”

An shaky male voice came through to the CIC.

“Attention, attention, Colonial vessels. Identify yourselves immediately.”

“This is the battlestar Bellerophon. We have with us innumerable civilian ships. Identify!”

“This is battlestar Valkyrie, and we have battlestar Hades with us. Commander that you?”

“Confirmed. Whom am I addressing?

“Major Cale. Neither of us have our COs aboard – Hades doesn’t have her XO, either, I assumed command of both ships. As superior officer...I took the decision to run. I saw two battlestars engage the Cylon attackers...only to be shut down and destroyed before they fired a shot! I ordered us to jump before the Cylons could get in range. We had no choice. We found you through blind luck.” The major’s voice cracked.

“That saved your skins, major. We’ve worked out how the Cylons have been able to so easily shut us down and destroy us, it’s the Command Navigation Program in the networked computers, they’re compromised. We don’t have much time, so disconnect your networks and purge your computers immediately. I’m assuming command of your ships as of now, we have to get away from this solar system as soon as possible.”

A silence fell. Bridge officers looked at Halstrom in horror.

“We’re abandoning the Colonies...?”

“We have no choice,” the commander said quietly. “Our only option is to save as many people as we can and run. It’s clear that the Cylons are trying to wipe us out of existence, and we need to flee with whatever’s left so we can start again elsewhere. Nothing else matters now.”

He raised the comms handset. “Major Cale, you’re acting CO of Valkyrie for now. Pick an XO, and shuttle one of your most capable officers over to Hades to assume command, along with a suitable XO.”

Halstrom lowered the handset and looked directly at the navigation officer. “We need a destination. Plot an appropriate system within jump range so we can regroup and take a reprieve.”


The XO looked at Halstrom. “You got a plan?”

“The civilian ships will jump first. In the event of enemy contact, our battlestars will provide covering fire until the last ship is away, and then Bellerophon will cover Hades and Valkyrie. We’re the most heavily armed and armoured ship, we’ll be the rearguard.”

“You’re anticipating enemy contact?”

“There’s a strong probability. They’re likely to detect us if they haven’t already and probably try to hit us with everything they’ve got. They really are going for all-or-nothing.”


The civilian ships began their second jump. One by one, their signatures began to disappear from DRADIS. Bellerophon, Valkyrie and Hades were spread in a defensive formation, Bellerophon in the centre, Valkyrie and Hades on the port and starboard flanks. Valkyrie was a smaller battlestar, designed to support larger battlestars with her missile batteries, while Hades was an older Galactica-type battlestar, less advanced than the other two, but still a formidable fighting ship. Each battlestar had put up a combat air patrol, giving good coverage to the fleet.

“Quiet so far,” Colonel Granger remarked.

Halstrom looked at him pensively. “Yeah. So far.”

“Last civilian ship has jumped,” reported the navigation officer.

“Signal Valkyrie and Hades to begin jump prep.”

“Aye, sir.”


An officer entered CIC clutching a message slip.

The XO threw a questioning glance at Halstrom, who returned it. He took the message from the officer.

“ ‘Attention...I am assuming command of the Colonial Fleet...’ Hmmm. It’s from Commander Adama aboard the Galactica. She survived. How did that defenceless old bucket make her way out of that mess?” Halstrom read on. “He wants what’s left of the Fleet to regroup at Ragnar Anchorage for a counterattack...”

“With what?” the XO asked harshly. “The whole fleet’s nothing but scrap metal.”

“I’m not risking a jump to Ragnar for some suicidal attempt at vengeance, don’t worry. Especially since this message will have taken its time getting here, it’s a few hours old now. However, we need all the help we can get. So here’s what we’ll do. Valkyrie and Hades will still jump out and meet the rest of the civilians, keep an eye on ‘em. Bellerophon will remain here for the time being – we’ll have a Raptor jump to the Anchorage, try and get in contact with Adama, talk him round. If he won’t see reason we’ll damn well leave him there. Prep a Raptor for a recon mission, see what we can find.”


Valkyrie and Hades jumped out, leaving Bellerophon alone in space. A lone Raptor glided out of the starboard pod and executed a jump to Ragnar. Bellerophon had been waiting in its position for two hours when the little craft jumped back in.

“Sir, Lieutenant Carlos reports they found four baseships and hundreds of Raiders at Ragnar. No sign of Galactica or any other Colonial vessels. They powered down and kept the Cylons under observation for a while, but DRADIS didn’t pick up anything else. However, an unidentified Cylon ship jumped in after about half an hour, of which our Raptor took these pictures...” The officer handed Halstrom a set of photographs of an unusually shaped ship.

“Damn. I guess that’s the end of Adama.”

“Very well. Let’s get back to the fleet. And try to ID this mysterious ship.”

Bellerophon jumped out.


F12 + 3

Commander Halstrom wearily reviewed the headcount data again. 17,103 souls, including the crews of the three battlestars. They might be all that was left of the twenty billion that died three days ago. He doubted anyone else got away, especially military vessels.

Twenty billion. The enormity of the number was pressing down on Halstrom. He knew it was only a matter of time before other people in the fleet began cracking under that terrible pressure. Already one officer had drawn his sidearm and fired it through the roof of his mouth. Since then, Halstrom had decreed that the sidearms of all military personnel should be deposited in the armouries before going off duty.

Meanwhile the pictures taken by the Raptor sent to Ragnar Anchorage prior to their escape from the colonies were being reviewed by military analysts. No conclusions had yet been drawn. The ship under examination was a strange one. It had a ribbed structure similar to a cathedral and no visible armour or defenses. Most puzzling of all – zoomed in pictures showed row upon row of containers on the ship, although the resolution wasn’t good enough to identify what was being contained, or why. A human being could reasonably fit into one, which triggered speculation that maybe it was a prison ship of some kind, or even a scientific experimental ship. The Cylons had not shown any interest in taking prisoners of any sort.

His handset buzzed.


“We have a slight situation down in CIC, you might like to join us.”

“Thank you, Anton, I might just do that. I’ll be right there.”

The XO looked up as the commander entered CIC. “Ah, good. We have a slight problem with the civilian ships.”

“What kind of problem?”

The XO glanced over at the comms officer. “There have been reports of, ah, riots on some civilian ships.”

“Oh, gods. Just what we need. What’s the problem?”

“Well, their homes have been nuked, their friends and families are mostly dead, they’re stranded in deep space with a race of psychotic genocidal machines chasing after them with intent to wipe them out, they have no government to speak of, and to top things off there’s a food shortage. Other than that, everything’s dandy.”

“Wonderful. Frak. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about. Alright. I’m afraid heavy measures are required here, otherwise we risk losing this fleet to anarchy and chaos. I’m declaring martial law as of now. Indefinitely. I want twelve Raptors full of Marines on standby to quell any would-be uprisings. The food problem’s the one I’m most concerned with – how’s the situation?”

“Hades’ and Valkyrie’s Raptors are out scouting nearby systems for food sources. Water isn’t a problem, our recycling facilities are more than adequate. We have three agricultural ships with us – unfortunately, they were all fresh off the production line and heading to Sagitarron for food supplies. We think that if we can find a viable food source and adapt the agricultural ships accordingly we should have a sustainable food supply.”

“Alright. So all we need is for one of those Raptors to turn up trumps. What’s the probability of that?”

The XO gestured at the navigation officer.

“Uh, unfortunately quite low. Systems possessing habitable planets are rare, and ones with a viable supply of food, such as algae, are going to be rarer still. It’s going to be touch-and-go if we don’t manage to find a viable source soon.”

The commander sighed. The Cylons he could deal with. They were a physical enemy that could be fought. Hunger was a very different kind of enemy.

“Anton. A word.”

The two officers retreated to a corner of CIC.

“If those Raptors don’t find anything this is going to get highly unpleasant. We’re going to have to...prioritise food allocation. By force.”
The colonel was silent.

“I think the best way to do this is to relocate all the food we already have to the battlestars. We can then dole it out fairly under a rationing system. That should buy us some time.”

“The civilians won’t see it that way,” Granger replied grimly.

“I know. Tell the Marines that they are authorised to use lethal force if deemed absolutely necessary. This fleet’s a powder keg waiting to go off and we have to move fast to save it.”



One of Bellerophon’s Raptors jumped back in from its recon mission.

“Another negative, sir. Lieutenant Ryder reports system contained nothing but rocks.”

“Damn. How many more Raptors yet to report back?”

“Three, sir. Lieutenant Paolos, Lieutenant Harker and Lieutenant Trice haven’t reported back yet. Hade’s and Valkyrie’s Raptors are being refuelled.”

“Very well. I’d better inform the old man.”

Colonel Anton Granger, executive officer on the Colonial Fleet battlestar Bellerophon, BSG 25, ran a hand through his hair in frustration. One more negative to add to the growing list. He sighed.

The food situation was becoming grim. The operation to recover the food from the civilian fleet had been hairy at times, with two teams forced to deploy weeping gas against angry civilians, but there were no fatalities, just several cases of broken bones. The rationing out of the dwindling food supplies had bought them a little time but it was looking like not enough. Vipers had been forced to disable the engines of three ships whose captains had not been able to contain the situation.

He saluted the Marines standing guard outside of the commander’s quarters and knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

As the XO entered he noticed the gaunt, hooded quality Leonid Halstrom’s face had taken. Dark circles ringed his eyes.

“Drink, Anton?”


The XO sat down opposite Halstrom.

“What’s the latest news?”

“Another negative. Three to report back.”

“Damn. We’re running out of time. How much longer is the food going to last?”

“Two days, tops. We’ve got to find food soon. Otherwise...” The XO let it hang.

“Yeah. Who’s still out there?”

“Paolos, Harker and Trice.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see, then. They’re all competent, dependable pilots.”

“Well, that won’t matter a damn if there’s nothing out there. You going back to CIC?”

“Yeah, I’d better. Crew’ll think I’ve just been taking naps since we left.”

The XO snorted.

“Take a rest, Anton, you’ve been in there for hours. XO’s are human, too, don’t think I don’t know that.” The commander smiled. “You’ve been doing a hell of a job hiding that from the crew, though.”

“If the crew doesn’t hate the XO, he’s not doing his job properly. Gotta make you look saintly, too.”

“Yeah, well, it’s one thing to ride on the crew. It’s quite another to break them. Dismissed, colonel.”

“Aye aye, sir.” The XO saluted.


“What have we got out there, Dagger?” ECO John Galvin called over his shoulder.

Lieutenant Trice consulted the DRADIS console in front of her. “Nothing yet. I’m going to move us further in-system.”
The little Raptor spooled up its jumpdrive and performed an intra-system jump further into the star system they were analysing, appearing again approximately 160 million kilometres from the system’s red star.

“Right. Let’s see what this baby can pick up. Setting DRADIS to extreme range, applying filters.”

The DRADIS made its quiet pulsing noises as data filtered back into the Raptor.

“Okay, I’ve got one planet and ...ohmygods.”

“What is it?”

“Oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere!”

Galvin whooped.

A radiant smile crossed Trice’s face. “Let’s take a closer look!”

The planet hung in space like a green jewel, red sunlight glinting off its light side. The surface in fact consisted entirely of ocean – the entire planet was swathed in blue-green aquatic plant life, clearly identifiable as algae. DRADIS was also showing four small moons – one of which held substantial deposits of tylium.

“Jackpot!” Trice leapt out of her seat and hugged an equally jubilant Galvin. “Oh lords of Kobol, thank you for providing your humble servants with such a bountiful-“

DRADIS chimed.

“Oh shit!”

“I’m showing three – no, four, DRADIS contacts moving in fast – spool up the FTL drive! Now now now!”

The FTL spun up agonisingly slowly. “Come on, you motherfrakker!” Trice screamed.

“Raiders! Launching missiles! For frak’s sake WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE!”

Trice hit the FTL sequence and squeezed her eyes shut.

Twenty missiles sliced through the space occupied by the Raptor milliseconds before.


“Raptor Four-Zero Bellerophon, you are cleared for approach. Speed one seven five, starboard bay, hands-on approach, checker's green, call the ball.”

“R..Roger, Bellerophon, I, uh, I have the ball, copy.”

The landing signal officer frowned. Trice sounded shaken-up as hell.

The Raptor flew in towards the top deck of the starboard bay, thrusters firing to kill its inertia, settling down on one of the landing pads.
As the Raptor was brought into the hangar deck, Trice’s hands were shaking uncontrollably. She’d barely brought the bird in to land.
The hatch opened and the concerned faces of the deck crew peered in. Trice stumbled towards the opening and collapsed into the arms of the deck crew.

“Hey hey hey! Easy! Easy! Get her to sickbay, now!”

A shaken John Galvin was helped down onto the hanger deck under the watchful gaze of Chief Petty Officer Beckett.

“Sir? Are you alright, sir?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. See to Trice.” Galvin waved them off. “I need to talk to the commander or the XO immediately.”


“And then you were attacked by Cylon Raiders?”

“That is correct, sir.”

Halstrom considered Galvin’s report. The situation, despite being quite so dramatically ironic and desperate, might prove that the fates had a twisted sense of humour. Here was their possible salvation, a bountiful source of food and fuel...and the Cylons were sitting on top of it. What was more is that if they didn’t know anyone escaped the Colonies before, they certainly did now.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I cannot stress how important this information is to our situation. How is Lieutenant Trice?”

“I, uh, was going to visit her after speaking with you, sir. Is that alright?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. Dismissed.”

Galvin saluted and exited CIC.

Anton Granger glanced over at the commander.

“What do you think, Leonid?” he asked quietly.

“I think that it’s time we began planning an op. I want Colonel Cale and Colonel Houston and their respective CAGs in the Situation Room immediately. Get Captain Hathaway up here as well. The Cylons know we’re in the vicinity, we don’t have much time.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.” The XO picked up the communication handset. “Captain Hathaway, report to CIC immediately, Captain Hathaway, report to the CIC.” Granger turned to the communications officer. “Get Colonels Cale and Houston to report to Bellerophon immediately,” he barked.

“Yes, sir.” The comms officer picked up his handset.

“The CIC’s yours, Colonel Granger,” Halstrom said. “I want to go and see Lieutenant Trice down in sickbay.”



Lieutenant Paula Trice was sitting on the edge of one of the beds in sickbay. She raised her left hand toward her face. It was still shaking uncontrollably.

The curtain covering the bay was drawn back to be replaced with the solemn face of the ship’s chief medical officer, Major Simon Boudreau, a tall man in his early forties with dark skin. Commander Halstrom stood at his side.


“Sir,” she grunted.

“The information you brought back may be instrumental in saving this fleet and the human race. I thought you ought to know that.”

“You would have come looking for us anyway, sir.”

Halstrom’s expression didn’t change, although there was a twinkle in his eye. “Aye, that we would, Lieutenant. As it is, I’m glad you came back in one piece. The Doc tells me you’re suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.”

“That is correct,” Boudreau affirmed in his calm voice. “I have recommended to the commander that you are taken off flight status.”

“What – sir –”

“He’s right, Trice. You’re in no state to fly – you barely managed to land your bird. You weren’t even capable of submitting a report. Rest up, Lieutenant. I need every pilot I can get.” The commander saluted, and walked out of sickbay. He could feel Trice’s eyes on his back as he walked out the door.

“I’m discharging you, Lieutenant. Go and get some rec time. If you feel like you need to talk, I’m always here,” Boudreau said gently.

“Yes, sir.”

Trice marched out of sickbay, trying to ignore the trembling in her legs.



Halstrom walked into the situation room. The officers around the tactical table saluted.

“Colonel Houston, a pleasure. I’ve reviewed your file.”


“To business, gentlemen. One of my Raptors discovered a system rich in natural resources – resources that we need. In short, a planet of edible algae and a moon with rich tylium deposits. Unfortunately, the Cylons are sitting right on top of it, and worse, they know we’re out here. We can only speculate as to the size of the enemy in the system – we may be up against a light scouting force or a major Cylon staging area.
“Whatever, we need to assault whatever force the Cylons have in the system and take the planet and its moon. Time is very short now, we need to acquire that food as soon as possible. The fuel is a welcome bonus.

“So gentlemen, I am open to suggestions. We need to create a battleplan.”

The officers exchanged glances.

“We need to have a vague idea at least of what forces the enemy has in the region,” Colonel Cale began. “Fortunately, Valkyrie has three stealthstars aboard. I recommend we send in two, one to recon the planet and one to recon the moon.”

“What is the likelihood of the Cylons detecting a stealthstar?” Anton Granger asked sharply.

Cale exchanged a glance with Colonel Houston.

“I presume, sir, you’ll have heard rumours of the Armistice Line incident a year ago?”

“We both have,” Halstrom replied. “Colonel Granger here was present in the Valkyrie CIC at the time. He told me about it shortly afterwards. I know that the stealthstar used was detected by the Cylons and destroyed with a ship-to-ship missile launched from the Valkyrie on Commander Adama’s orders. So I’m a little dubious about using them.”

“The stealthstar in question was in fact a first-generation stealth ship,” Cale said uncomfortably. “Some of the kinks hadn’t been ironed out by the time it was requisitioned, but the Admiralty was adamant. The ones we now have on Valkyrie are much improved.”

“Are you willing to bet the lives of the pilots that will fly them on that?” the commander asked quietly.

Cale flinched, then stiffened. “Yes, sir, I am.”

“Very well,” the commander simply replied. “Once we have reviewed the situation when the stealthstars return, we will act accordingly. Less than two days, gentlemen. That’s how long we’ve got. Anton, I’m leaving you in command of the Bel for now, I’ll be accompanying Colonel Cale back to Valkyrie.”


“Dismissed, gentlemen.” The commander saluted.


Valkyrie’s CIC was similar to Bellerophon’s. Since the first phase of the operation was to be carried out by Valkyrie, Halstrom, as overall commander of the fleet, had transferred his flag to the smaller battlestar.

“The idea,” explained Cale, “was that the stealthstar would eventually supersede the Raptor as a scouting unit. The Raptor’s a superb piece of military hardware, but as I’m sure you’re aware it’s the oldest vehicle design still being used by the Fleet, dating back to the first Cylon war. With this in mind the stealthstar would become the primary scouting unit while the Raptor would retain its role with regards to targeting information and would become a heavy weapons platform in an anti-capital ship role to complement the Viper as a primarily anti-fighter unit.”

“So the stealthstars Valkyrie is equipped with will make a better scout ship than Raptors?” Halstrom asked.

“Basically, yes, sir. We can acquire intelligence on enemy forces more covertly.”

Halstrom nodded. “Alright, then, skids up in ten minutes. You’ve briefed your pilots?”

“Yes, sir. Intelligence op, observe the enemy, gather data, get out of there at the first sign of trouble.”

“Okay, Colonel, it’s your op from here on out. We’re counting on you and your pilots.”



Lt. Hadrian “Foxbat” Polance settled down into the cockpit of the stealthstar. After running a quick systems check, he flashed a thumbs-up at the launch supervisor.

“Instruments green, fuel pressure nominal, everything checks out.”

“Roger that, Foxbat. Maglock secure. You are cleared to launch. Initiating launch sequence.”

The supervisor hit the launch button.

The launch tube’s magnetic catapult hurled the stealthstar forward. The walls of the tube streaked by on either side of the cockpit and suddenly Polance was floating through space.

“Valkyrie, Foxbat, stealthstar is away.”

“Good hunting, Foxbat.”

Once Polance was a suitable distance from Valkyrie he fired the reverse thrusters, reducing the stealthstar’s velocity to a slow drift. He spotted the dagger-shape of Major “Bottleneck” Kowalsky’s stealthstar.

“Glad you made it to the party, Lieutenant,” Kowalsky’s deadpan voice droned. “Our Cylon friends didn’t bother to RSVP, so we’d better bring the party to them.”

“Aye aye, sir. Jump co-ordinates set. FTL spooled up and ready.”

“Jump on my mark.”

The stealthstars vanished from Valkyrie’s DRADIS.


Polance’s stealthstar jumped in to the system. A moment later, Kowalsky’s joined it, alone in the void.

“How’s your DRADIS, Foxbat?”

“Clear, Bottleneck. Yours?”

“Affirmative. Let’s check this place out. You check out the moon, I’ll recon the planet.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Polance wished he was as confident as his voice would suggest. The stealthstar wouldn’t be picked up by whatever the hell the Cylon equivalent of DRADIS was, or so he’d been told.

The moon had little atmosphere to speak of. Dry and airless, its only interesting feature the abundant tylium deposits.

Polance drew closer to the moon. After many hours of sublight travel he came within visual range. Closer, closer...

DRADIS chimed. One, two basestars. Three. Four. Five.

Plus a large installation in orbit.

A refuelling operation?

Raiders were everywhere. Swarming about the basestars like bees to a hive. Polance realised that he couldn’t get much closer. Unidentified ships – probably refuelling tankers, freighters and the like – were flitting between the moon and the station, and the station and the basestars. The basestars are far too big to directly refuel, Polance thought. I wonder what this fleet is doing out here. In any case, there was clearly a large Cylon base in the region. A staging area, used against the Twelve Colonies? It was a relatively close system to the Colonies.
Polance realised this was about as much information as he was going to get. Time to rendezvous with the Major and get the frak out.
He flipped the stealthstar around and headed back to the rendezvous point.


“Hello, Foxbat. Nice to see you again. Find much?”

Polance sighed in relief. He was glad that the major was okay.

“Yes, sir. One motherfrakker of a Cylon base. Looked like a refuelling operation. Yourself?”

“Not as much activity on the planet. I observed a couple of flights down onto the surface. Came back a few hours later, docked with a basestar in orbit.”

“That makes a total of six. There were five above the moon.”

“Really? I wonder why Trice didn’t pick up all this activity.”

“Trice was operating at extreme range. The station and the basestars would have been too small to be picked up on a long-range scan. And they were immediately jumped by Raiders – probably a long range patrol. Just unlucky on that count, I guess.”

“That’s pretty frakking unlucky. In any case, let’s head back home. Commander Halstrom needs to know about this.”


F12 + 6

Both stealthstars jumped back in together and began heading for Valkyrie’s flight pods, executing hands-on landings. On Halstrom’s orders, all traffic landing on battlestars were banned from automated approaches.

Halstrom eyed the reports. They made for grim reading. Outnumbered two to one in terms of capital ships, and the number of Raiders didn’t even bear thinking about. They were pitifully outnumbered.

And yet this was a battle that had to be fought. The food crisis was nearly out of control. Some civilian ships resembled war-zones. Two civilian ships armed with ship-to-ship missiles had demanded food be shipped immediately, until Raptor-borne Marines seized control of both. There were several fatalities as people attacked the Marines with anything to hand.

Which led to another problem. If all the battlestars were committed then there would be no-one to watch the fleet.

Halstrom sighed, rubbing his eyes. He hadn’t slept for days.

“I want a Raptor to take me back to Bellerophon immediately. Cale, you and your CAG are coming with me. Raise Colonel Houston and tell him to report to Bellerophon with his CAG. We need to plan this op.”



Two Raptors left Valkyrie and Hades, heading for the big Mercury class battlestar. Once back aboard, Halstrom greeted his XO, and led Colonels Cale and Houston to the situation room.

“Gentlemen. You’ll have read the reports brought back by Major Kowalsky and Lieutenant Polance.”

Grim nods.

“Then you’ll know what we’re up against. Six basestars, plus Raiders. We have three battlestars, plus Vipers. We’re outnumbered and outgunned. But we don’t have an option here, gentlemen. We must have that planet. The Cylons are the secondary enemy: time is the first.”

“I would like to say I have a plan. But I don’t. The truth of the matter is we have to fight the enemy, and we have to beat him, and we have to do it now. And I believe we can do it. We survived the greatest catastrophe in history. We will not die here. The human race will not simply lie dying, tearing itself apart in its death throes. The Cylons committed an unspeakable evil. They are machines. Ruthless, implacable, cold, calculating. But they do not understand us. They do not understand humans. Why, they must ask themselves. What is the point in art and music and culture? Why don’t they just roll over and die? They’re beaten, they must know that. Why do they keep fighting?”

The commander smiled grimly. “Well, gentlemen, I propose we give them our answer. A philosopher once said, ‘When faced with untenable choices you should consider your imperative.’ Look around you. Our imperative is right here: in our bulkheads, in our planes, in our guns and in ourselves. War is our imperative, and if right now victory seems like an impossibility, then there is something else to reach for: revenge. Our answer will be one of vengeance. The hounds of war sense blood in the air. War is our imperative. War is our purpose. They have taken from us everything. No more. If the human race is to end, let this be our swansong. Death or glory, gentlemen. War is our imperative, and so we will fight.”

The commander took satisfaction in the looks of hard determination in each officer’s face. He trusted them to do their duty, and they did likewise.

“To business. Bellerophon is our heavy hitter. Our bow guns can do serious damage to a basestar, and the sheer amount of firepower we can throw at any toasters is our biggest asset. I propose we use Bellerophon as our spear, Hades as our shield and Valkyrie as our bow. Valkyrie isn’t designed to take a huge amount of punishment, so we need to keep her protected. Her missile batteries will be ideal in keeping the Raiders occupied in defending their basestars – from what we can tell, they don’t have close-in defenses.

“My suggestion is that we split our Viper complement up. Two thirds of each ship's Vipers to to defend the ships, the remaining third to escort strike forces of Raptors with missile pods. That’ll distract the Cylons and divide their attention.”

“That’ll cost us,” Captain Hathaway said quietly. The other CAGs nodded.

“I acknowledge that. It’s necessary. They could well be the deciding factor of this battle, our edge over the Cylons.

“Any questions, gentlemen?”

Colonel Cale glanced at Colonel Houston.

“What about the civilians? We can’t leave them here...”

“No, we can’t. Nor can we leave a battlestar to babysit them. We’ll have to bring them with us.”

“Oh, gods.”

“All or nothing, gentlemen. If we lose this battle they’ll die anyway. We just need to make sure we’re between them and the Cylons. We’ll dump them outside of the combat zone before we engage.”

A resigned look crossed Cale’s face.

“Anything else?”

After a pause, the officers shook their heads.

“Skids up in two hours. Get back to your ships. And good luck, all of you. “

The officers saluted, and departed for their Raptors.


Bellerophon, Hades and Valkyrie advanced toward the Cylon-held moon. Commander Halstrom had decided that the bulk of the Cylon forces would be concentrated there and if they could be beaten at the moon the day would be won. Viper and Raptor crews were standing by. Two strike forces had been designated, with each battlestar contributing a third of their complement of Vipers and Raptors. The Vipers, it was hoped, would be able to keep enemy Raiders off the Raptors’ backs while they discharged their payloads.

The air in the Bellerophon CIC could have been cut with a knife. Commander Halstrom gripped the tactical table, his fingers digging in like claws. Colonel Granger had a terse look on his face.

DRADIS was showing nothing. So far.

“I hate the waiting.”

“People say it’s the worse part. Until the shooting starts. Then I’d have the waiting.”

The commander grunted.

“DRADIS contact. Three, four...five basestars. Launching Raiders!”

“Action stations!” bellowed the commander. “Launch Vipers! All of them! Strike forces are to form up and await instructions.”

“Four hundred...about six hundred Raiders. No sign of the sixth basestar, sir!”

“All ahead full! Weapons, as soon as we get in range, nail the bastards!”

“Aye aye, sir!”

Bellerophon stormed towards the waiting basestars, with Hades above its port flight pod, the smaller and less durable Valkyrie trailing close behind. Vipers and Raptors streamed out of all three ships, a third assembling into the two strike forces while the rest held a defensive formation. In effect, the group was a lethal bubble of firepower.

Ensign Belknap shot out of a launch tube on Bellerophon’s starboard flight pod in his Mark VII Viper, hurtling into space. He could see the bulk of the Hades thundering alongside the Bellerophon. It was a sight awesome to behold, and one he would keep to his dying day. A day, Belknap fervently hoped, that was not today.

Raiders detached from their aeries, lazily coiling around the basestars, forming into a vast horde, resembling nothing so much as a great flock of bats leaving their caves at night. An unpleasant comparison, thought Belknap. Volleys of missiles streaked out of the basestars’ arms, and the Raiders were quick to follow, jumping after the missiles like dogs to thrown sticks.

“This is the CAG. Good luck everyone. Don’t let them use their targeting computers, and for gods’ sake, stay out of the battlestars’ firing solutions!”

Bellerophon and Hades threw out great clouds of flak that rippled and burst across space. Belknap watched space in front of Hades ignite and broil, missiles bursting in the lethal maelstrom of flak. The Hades started to alter its course away from Bellerophon, swinging out to cover the port flank as Bellerophon veered to starboard, each ship broadening its defensive firepower. Valkyrie stayed close to Hades, firing its missile batteries against the basestars on that flank, forcing the Raiders to divert attention to the missiles. Bellerophon, meanwhile, accelerated toward the farthest basestar. The basestars were arrayed in a loose convex semicircular formation which would cut apart anything caught in the middle in a lethal crossfire of missile barrages.

The strike forces had divided with the battlestars, following underneath the main thrust of their attacks. The Raptors were armed to the teeth with heavy duty missile pods and cannons. Vipers arrayed themselves in defensive patterns to prepare for the swarms of Raiders about to mob them. The sheer number of enemy contacts showing on Belknap’s DRADIS beggared belief. He murmured a prayer to the Lords of Kobol and checked his gun safety for the hundredth time. The large bulk of the Bellerophon hung over them like a giant guardian angel, and Belknap found its looming hull reassuring.

Bellerophon’s guns began firing, one after the other, sending slug after high velocity slug toward the basestar. The Raptor strike force detached, and manoeuvred toward the basestar next in the formation.

This is it, thought Belknap.

A cloud of Raiders swarmed to intercept them, streaking in like bats out of hell, cannons winking blue tracer. The Vipers opened fire, turning the rapidly declining space towards the two groups into a lethal crossfire, a microcosm of the war of the gods around them, as the battlestars slugged it out with the basestars.

Belknap thumbed his trigger, punching an RCS thruster to kick him out of the path of a line of shells stitching their way towards him. His own fire punched through the Raider firing at him, spilling mechanical bits and...blood?

A Viper collided with a Raider head on, their combined velocities mashing the two ships together in a catastrophic explosion. Debris spattered off of Belknap’s canopy, reminding him of heavy rain.

They were almost through. They needed to ensure the Raptors launched their payload and then they’d scram.


The basestar hung in space, looking absurdly spindly and fragile for a combat warship. The surviving Raptors launched their payload, missiles leaping out of their tubes, bright white contrails marking their journey.

The force of the combined explosions from so many missiles wrenched two arms off to be flung across space. The basestar began to list to one side, fires igniting in the ruined “stump”. A puff of atmosphere spurted out.

Belknap screamed in release, letting a long burst of fire play across space. The strike force leaped away from the ruined Cylon baseship, leaving the debris of their lost comrades behind them to float serenely through space, now oblivious to the unfolding battle.

Belknap craned his neck, looking through his canopy at the Big B. Bellerophon was really punishing her basestar, volley after volley of shots from her bow guns slamming into the basestar at close range. More fields of flak burst around her as Raiders and Vipers waltzed around each other in a dance of death, thrusting, firing, thrusting. What was left of the dead basestar’s Raiders was now closing fast.

“This is the CAG to Strike One: we need to take out those frakking toasters. On me!”

Hathaway’s Viper streaked ahead, the rest of the strike force hard on his heels. The Raider group entered the fight with Bellerophon’s beleaguered Vipers hard pressed to keep them off Bellerophon. There was a blinding flash as the basestar finally succumbed to the merciless barrage being laid on by Bellerophon; as the giant battlestar tried to manoeuvre away, the Raider s rained missiles down on it, blowing sections of armour plate away. There were far too many targets for the point-defence guns to handle.

The chaos was unbelievable. Space was covered in flak bursts, Raiders, Vipers, and debris. Belknap didn’t even bother looking at his DRADIS anymore.

The strike force remnants entered the fray desperately, guns spitting. Bellerophon loomed in front of them, veiled behind explosions. Belknap gunned for a Raider pouncing on a hapless Raptor and turned it into a brief fireball in the void. Raider after Raider burst apart, ignited, disintegrated. Belknap wondered vaguely what controlled the Raiders.

After what felt like both a few minutes and an eternity, the remaining Raiders leapt away from the Bellerophon. Two made suicide runs, bursting apart as the point-defense guns found them.

“Bellerophon to all Vipers: combat landings. Rearm, refuel and get back out there.”

“Alright, combat landings, people! On the deck! Go go go!” shouted the CAG.

The collection of Vipers and Raptors bounced into the Bellerophon’s flight pods. Once all ships were aboard, Bellerophon began manoeuvring toward the remaining basestars. Once back in the hangar decks deck crew immediately began refuelling and rearming the Vipers.

Hades and Valkyrie’s fight was going badly. The two battlestars had managed to neutralise one basestar, but nearly the entire of Strike Two had been lost. What little damage had been inflicted was minimal. The third basestar was closing on Hades, pounding it with kinetic missile barrages. Halstrom knew he had to act fast to save them.

Bellerophon accelerated towards the fight, the big battlestar’s engines glowing ionic blue. Hades was putting up one hell of a fight, but she couldn’t survive much longer, and Valkyrie wouldn’t survive an extended engagement on her own.

The fight was awesome to behold. Clutches of missiles slammed across space, intercepted by groups of fighters and clouds of flak, while Hades’ kinetic guns lit up the void as it pounded at the two basestars. Missile after missile slid from Valkyrie’s batteries, winding around Hades to arc toward the Cylon ships.

“Just hold on,” Halstrom whispered, amid the chaos and sparking consoles in CIC. “A few more minutes.”

Bellerophon’s guns opened up, sending projectiles to impact on the nearest basestar. The batteries on that side of the basestar sent a salvo of missiles in return.


Three missiles got through Bellerophon’s defences to impact on the bow armour. Undeterred, Bellerophon kept up the fire.

“What’s the status of our Vipers?”

“Refuelled and ready to go!”

“Launch Vipers!”

The communication officer began relaying launch instructions to the Vipers.

Bellerophon’s Vipers shot out of their launch tubes to meet a squadron of Raiders which had abruptly changed course to intercept Bellerophon head-on. A vicious dogfight ensued as each group tried to eliminate the other. Meanwhile, the battlestar kept up its charge, guns blazing as it joined the fray.

Caught in a noose between the three battlestars, the basestars vainly tried to fight their way out. Bellerophon crippled one, which seemed to lose power suddenly, its hull heavily fractured. Missiles from the Valkyrie finally punctured the hull of the other, piercing the basestar’s reactor, or whatever it was, touching off a chain reaction that enveloped the basestar in explosions, finally disintegrating.

The remaining Raiders tried to flee, spooling up their FTL, but most were pounced on by vengeful Vipers and destroyed. Only a small handful managed to escape.

And then...and then, the three battlestars were alone, amid the shattered corpses of dead ships.


#2 User is offline   Spartanz1170v2 Icon

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Posted 09 May 2008 - 01:25 AM

Not bad, check out my BSG Fan fic, it's a Halo/BSG crossover.

#3 User is offline   cloudCAs Icon

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Posted 09 May 2008 - 08:25 AM

good read nBSGsalute.gif

sig by p0is0n0us

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Posted 09 May 2008 - 11:54 AM

Ok, updated the first post. That's most of what I've written so far.

#5 User is offline   pagad Icon

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Posted 13 May 2008 - 11:40 AM

Anyone who's still reading this: from now on I'm going to update the story on, a fan wiki. This simplifies things for me so I don't have to copy-paste into multiple forums tongue.gif

I'll keep posting "update" messages, though.

I've got exams at the moment. Going to have to put this off for a bit. Cheers.

#6 User is offline   pagad Icon

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Posted 16 May 2008 - 03:35 PM


Nothing to get too excited about.

#7 User is offline   pagad Icon

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Posted 21 June 2008 - 05:32 PM

Yeah, it's been a while, but:

Updates and such.

The Helia is now the Oberon, by the way.

#8 User is offline   Spartanz1170v2 Icon

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Posted 23 June 2008 - 12:18 AM

As usual GOLD!
But the CO giving his XO a head shot is already Cliche....

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Posted 05 July 2008 - 06:18 AM

Yeah, I know. The ramfications will hopefully last much longer, though.

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Posted 05 July 2008 - 02:55 PM

Another update.

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Posted 16 December 2010 - 03:55 AM

Hi. I'm a fan of the story, but the archive site it was on seems to have died. Would it be possible for you to upload it to, say, Otherwise it'll be the end of the story. Also, the punctuation in the first post is frakked up beyond all recognition. The marks have been replaced by random character strings.

#12 User is offline   sean Icon

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Posted 27 December 2010 - 09:55 PM

Seems pagad hasn't been here in over a could try a message on his bio.....

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Posted 27 December 2010 - 10:03 PM

Sean is 100% right - pagad has not logged into GBBS since - April 09 2009 at 01:17. Try to PM or leave him a note on his profile as sean said. He should get an email notice (unless his email has changed since last April).

All the crazy characters are actually various punctuation marks that didn't weather a massive forum upgrade and database restore so well (many OLD posts still exist and suffer the same punctuation problem. The price of progress. :)) A search and replace could restore the marks if anyone wants to spend the time on restoring the text.
"All base ships are now in range to attack the colonies."
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