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Posted on 12/05/2019 @ 2:11am by Lieutenant JG Finn Kidane & Colonel Celeste Porter

Mission: 1 - Twilight
Location: CIC
Timeline: MD 02 - 0450 Z

"How many people did we rescue from that wreck, Sergeant?"

"About 900. 917 to be precise, Colonel," the young woman responded. She was working as the ship's makeshift quartermaster for the moment. "I've got them assigned to bunks, and most of them are still in desperate need of medical treatment, but I think they're stabilized. We uh...we didn't load anyone onto a Raptor who was..."

"I know, that was my order," Celeste responded. "And may the Gods forgive me for it. Give me the rest of the rundown."

"We were able to scrounge up enough fuel for both the FTL and the sub-light engines. And a full complement of it too, so the tanks are full and we are ready to go. The Autumnus reports that she's also ready to jump at a moment's notice, as long as we can protect her. Most of the other ships we transmitted to are being left behind, since they exhausted the last of their jump capabilities when they got here. A few jumped in from Ragnar, but they didn't bring anything with them. So...I think it's going to be just us two ships."

"Fine," Porter responded, as she picked up the pace walking through the corridor. "Too many small ships means too much potential collateral damage if we get into it with the Cylons. I don't need that kind of guilt. Anyone else coming along for the ride?"

"Yeah, there's a jump shuttle in the port hangar, it fits 10. No name."

"Fine," she responded again a she stepped into the CIC. "Sitrep."

Finn lifted his head, dark bags under his eyes little different than those that marred the rest of the crew. "The last of the Wings are on final approach to land now, Ma'am." He'd heard the exchange- his thoughts drifted to those he and Harbeck had told to jump to Ragnar. He wondered if they were the same. Though he knew, deep down, he'd never be sure. He had no way to be. The rest of the ships- including the Pyramid Team- had been evac'ed and stripped of everything useful. "The DRADIS is quiet. But there's almost no comm traffic left out there." He tapped a few keys on his console. It was like an entire star system was either holding it's breath, or had none left. The chill down his spine said the latter.

“Copy,” she responded. “Okay since we appear to be stable for the moment, and safe until we’re not, I’d like anyone who’s been awake for longer than the last 12 hours to go get some bunk time. The other shoe could drop at any moment and Gods know we all need it.”

She was distracted for a moment by Harbeck’s fiery red hair as the pilot walked into the CIC, handing her a cup of hot tea.

“Harbeck and I will take first watch. Everyone else, clear the deck and get some shut eye. That’s an...”

She was interrupted by the loud squawk of the DRADIS console.

“Frack me you’ve gotta be kidding. Kidane, what is it?”

Finn's stare was up, the muscles around his jaws flexing in a swallow. "DRADIS contact," he said as the system warbled again. His face was bathed in the blues of the sweeping arcs. "Multiple DRADIS contacts. Bearing 000 mark 076. Bearing 010 mark 344. Bearing 076 mark 042. Multiple Basestars, Ma'am!" It sculled again. "Basestar bearing 000 mark 076 just let loose multiple contacts." His lips were moving, but no sound came at first, "We have inbound twenty-two Raiders." The DRADIS cried again and Finn tilted his head, "New contact: Basestar bearing 177 mark 314."

“Birds?!” she called out.

“In the hangar!”

She turned her head back to the Tactical station and ordered, “Finn time to use your encyclopedic knowledge of Colonial Space and beyond. Spin up the railguns and secure us a perimeter while you plot a jump. PAST the Red Line! And jump when you have it!”

She picked up the ship’s comm receiver and announced, “All hands, brace for contact and stand by for FTL!”

"Frrrrak," Finn murmured to himself, his skinny body going into overdrive. The DRADIS churlishly called at him again but he didn't need to look to know what was happening. It wouldn't matter. Either they had enough time to jump, or they were going to die. One antiquated Battlestar was no match for four full-armed Basestars. Finn was at the maps, his long fingers pulling at them to widen some of their fields. He gestured hard, collapsing one off screen and bringing up another. He finally just made a decision. What met basic criteria: past the red line, as far as they could possibly go. There was nothing left here.

"Sending coordinates," Finn said with an edge to his voice. He swung himself into motion toward the Helm and tossed the on-duty the coordinates. "I'm sending to Autumnus now. Standby to jump." Finn glanced at the DRADIS. The call were missiles. Thermos. They were going to die if this didn't work.

Finn got the response from Autumnus, "FTL is online, we are ready to jump!" He nodded at the Helm.

The nearby ships in the yard lit up in thermos as the shuddered and snapped. It disappeared in a flash as missiles destroyed everything around where they'd been.

Finn straightened as they returned to normal space. The room was silent. He tapped at the console and pointed at the screens. Two warm orange lights, massive orbs of plasma hydrogen and helium, burned. One was much closer than the other. "Welcome to the Eyes of Hestia." He said, putting hands behind his back. He touched the DRADIS contact. "Autumunus is 3,000 klicks off our ventral starboard."


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