"Sorry beautiful, I doubt you'll ever beat either of us at frakkin' Triad. But, there is this one time, on shore leave...I decided to go see my grandparents in Caprica City. After one of the visits, I won't out to this bar, to go drinking with a couple guys I knew from flight school. So, we drank for awhile, and ended up going to this club...music, girls...and a large stock of Ambrosia. A few hours later, we were absolutely wasted...and one of my buddies had this genius idea to flirt with the bartender...she was drop dead gorgeous...well, nowhere near as pretty as you, but, still...now, the girl's boyfriend was a Tauron. Mafia type, very jealous, very angry...he and his friends surrounded us, pulled out their guns, and threatened our lives...told us to get the hell out and never come back. So, we left...until the next night. We came back, and had the absolute misfortune of meeting up with those frakkers again. So, my buddy, he grabs the girl, and just locks lips with her...the dirt eaters pulled out their guns, and we had a full fledged bar brawl on our hands. I spent three weeks in the brig when I got back because of that incident. But I got a birthday card from a couple of those mafia goons. Apparently they respect a bit of craziness. It's why I have this tattoo..."
Pulling his injured arm up, he adjusted the bandage, pulling down to his wrist. A small emblem of Tauron, with a circle around it, adorned his skin.
"That is the symbol of an honorary Tauron. Apparently I had the balls to be accepted as one of them if I ever went back to Caprica...I guess that doesn't matter so much now though. But that's all you're getting out of me, for now...you need to get some sleep, at least until we get out of here..." Getting up, he grinned, and leaned in, locking eyes with Persephone for a moment, and laughed, stepping up from the bed and moving himself over to the corner of the cell, sitting in a corner, and yawning deeply.
"Good night, Persy...the last Caprican Princess!" Slowly, he drifted off to sleep in the corner of the cell.
Asteroid Belt Mining Facility ::
"Orders for you El-Tee...gather information on the terrorists...Major just wants information, so don't go shooting anyone just yet. Mycenae, out."
French Fry sighed, exited the Raptor, and stepping back out to meet with the survivors. They all looked scared, clutching their weapons tightly, looking over their shoulders, as if they were expecting something. The leader looked at the Lieutenant hopefully, but French Fry merely shook his head,
"I have my orders...all we are authorized to do is collect information. You're not getting any support from the Mycenae yet." The man gripped his rifle tighter, his facial features reflecting his sorrow.
"Listen, Lieutenant, these men are crazy...babbling on about one true God and some such nonsense. We think they're a branch of an old terrorist group based in Caprica...Really big about sixty-years ago, Soldiers of the One. Bringing some sort of crazy monotheistic ideas. I'm not sure what else you're going to be able to learn...but come on, I'll show you our base camp. Maybe you can see the damage they're doing first hand. By the way, my name is Marco, Marco Aurel. Retired Commander in the Colonial Fleet."
Marco led the Marines and Pilot of the
Mycenae through a labyrinth or long, twisting corridors, eventually reaching a large open chamber, with crates stacked high as far as the eye could see, as well as all sorts of pieces of equipment. In the center of the large room were tents, and a few fires raging in old tylium barrels. The men and women populating the camp looked even more hopeless than the group that came to meet the Colonial forces.
"Bastards have been raiding our food stores constantly...we've had heavy rationing...people are starving. If they don't get what they want, and destroy our ships...we'll have nothing. Come, you look tired...get some rest, and you can continue your mission later. I'll even lead you to one of their camps...maybe you can convince them to talk to you, Lieutenant." The crewmen of the battlestar reluctantly entered the large central tent, full of sleeping bags. Most of them had been up for almost two days in a row, and so the rest was welcome...
Thirteen Hours Later ::
((Funeral music here!))
Contact from the shore party had been non-existent for the last thirteen hours. Everyone on the ship had finally gotten some rest, and were prepared for the day ahead. As planned, they took advantage of the reprieve from Cylon attacks...today was the day that Antov would be commissioned officially as the Commanding Officer of the
Mycenae, and hopefully a CAG and XO would be selected, as well as the holding of the memorial service. Poet and Scholar had been released from the brig, and Poet, as promised, had spent most of the morning in the Hangar Bay, arguing with the deck gang, and helping them salvage what they could from the Vipers. There was a very good chance that Scholar's Viper would survive...though they were still examining the wreckage of Poet's Viper.
" Reveille, reveille, morning stations aboard Battlestar Mycenae, all hands report to your stations. Memorial Service and commissioning ceremony will be held in thirty minutes. Honor guard muster in fifteen minutes in the Port Hangar Deck before the ceremony for last minute preparations.
'Frak', Poet thought to himself, looking down at his oil covered hands. He didn't want to leave the Viper to the deck gang, but he had no choice. Charging through the ship, he made his way to the showers, and washed up as fast as he could, which was hard considering his injured arm. The swelling on his face had gone down, but he still didn't look much better. Grinning at himself in the mirror, he made his way to the Pilot's quarters and donned his Dress Greys, and putting on the blue sash of the Honor Guard. The next half hour flashed by quickly, until he was at the ceremony...and had to hold back a groan when he saw Major Antov in the crowd. Behind them sat the coffins, without corpses...flags draped over them elegantly, waiting in the airlock. Stepping up on to the improvised stage, he spoke loudly, for all to hear.
"Good morning, everyone. I am Lieutenant Deloy...Today, we begin with a memorial, to our fallen, our friends, and our families. They have paid the ultimate price, and we must continue to fight on in their memory. The events of the last days have been hard for many of us, but we must not let go. Now, I'm no priest, but I don't need to be one to tell you that this is a hard time. But we must have hope. We are all that is left of the human race...we must come together, like we have never done before. We must all remember the code that binds us, the oath we swore, the meaning of the uniform that we wear. We must remember why we fight, and that even in these dark days, a light can be found. Hold our fallen comrades in your hearts, and use those thoughts to drive you to do your best, every single day. Whether you're flying a Viper against the Cylons, or knocking dents out of the deck after a rough landing...we can not continue to live without everyone doing their part, and we can not let anything divide us. So now, we give the souls of the fallen unto the Gods, where they shall find peace eternal, away from the wars of man and Cylon. Remember this day, for all your lives...remember this day, when you go out to kill those Cylons. You must remember, so that the Cylons never forget...nobody fraks with humanity...so say we all. Present...ARMS!"
The crowd broke into a chorus, repeating the final words...the airlock slowly slid shut, and the coffins were jettisoned into space. Everyone in the room snapped to a salute, and silence reigned over them all. Now it was time for Major Antov to take the stage...to become the Commanding Officer of the Battlestar
Mycenae.
"Major Demetry Antov...from this moment forward, you will accept the responsibilities of an officer in the Colonial Fleet, and as Commanding Officer of this Battlestar, you will do everything you can to protect your crew, and your ship, no matter the personal cost. You will be commissioned at the rank of Commander, and shall perform all duties pertaining to such a station. ATTENTION ON DECK!" The entire crowd snapped to attention in the face of their new commanding officer. Now it was time for Commander Antov to give his speech...Poet personally didn't expect anything too exciting, but was ready for a surprise.
