Zero Hour - Literate Battlestar Galactica RP // WANT PEOPLE

[Lysander the Poet]

【 ℒｉｅｕｔｅｎａｎｔ 】

►ʟʏsᴀɴᴅᴇʀ 'Poet' ᴅᴇʟᴏʏ◄

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Poet smiled, feeling Scholar's soft hand upon his cheek. Poet lifted his tattooed arm, the words of scripture that she spoke scrawled upon his it, along with artistic renditions of the various Gods. His hand rose, and his finger came to her lips, pressing slightly. "That, Captain, is what I was trying to tell you earlier...why I did the things I did. Around you, things are...confusing at best. I don't know how to put it into words, but I hope my actions show you what I mean...Scholar...Oh Gods, just shut up and kiss me, you crazy, silly, beautiful woman...and perhaps, we won't have to wait till tomorrow to make those rumors true. I'm sure we'll be in here for awhile."

Leaning forward again, he lowered his hand, and grabbed Scholar's arms, pushing her back against the bars of the cell. Their lips met once more, and Poet savored it, just as he did the first two times. Frak the Cylons, frak the future of humanity, and frak it all...this is where he wanted to be...the kiss persisted for a long while, before Poet away and smiled again. Still with a hold on Scholar's arms, he turned her to the bed and pushed her, causing her to fall onto it. Approaching slowly, he lied down with her, and kissed her again. The room was empty except for the two of them, and they spent a long period in that cell. All the world seemed to halt around them, passion ruling the moment, and feelings that Poet didn't know if he truly understood...but he didn't care...it felt wonderful.

One week later...
Battlestar Mycenae Crew 176 hours with no sleep ::
Things on the Mycenae had never been worse. A week ago they had found the mining facility, and rescued the civilians, forming a ragtag fleet with their mining ships. A report had come in from Fidgets about the Centurions in the Starboard Hangar Bay. All attempts to access that part of the ship were useless however. There was absolutely no way for a group large enough to wipe out the Centurions to gain access...apparently, the Cylons had reactivated, and sealed all the entrances. The crew had done work on their side to ensure the Centurions could not access the rest of the ship. And the worst part was, that included the tracking beacon they had installed...for the last seven days, the Cylons had been jumping at them, at random, yet short intervals, and attacking. Never more than forty-five minutes between attacks...no time for anyone to sleep...barely enough time to shower, shave, and eat. Everyone was exhausted, tensions were high, and patience was running thin. The CIC was like a mine field, people exploding at each other every moment...and the deck gang could barely hold up with Viper repairs.

Lysander Deloy stood in the Pilot Ready Room, his flight suit unzipped, pulled down to his waist. He had bags under his eyes, which were bloodshot, and a reasonable beard on his face, from lack of time. After the events in the brig last week, he had finally thought things would go right, but of course not. Lucky for him and Scholar, the only part of their activities that anyone had heard of was their little yelling match. It was the common opinion of crew that the two were at odds, ready to kill each other. Leaning on the podium, he stretched, looking out at the seats, which were quite empty. The few pilots that were in the room were just as tired and as ragged as he was. Tapping the microphone, he started to speak, his throat felt rough. Clearing it, he attempted to start again. "Alright everyone...day eight since our jump from the Mining facility. We've jumped about...three hundred times...as you may have noticed, Captain Joaliss is not here for today's pre-flight briefing. As you may also notice, we're missing a fair few of our pilots. I've had a few emotional breakdowns...I've had a few go stim crazy, and are now spending time in sick bay. I've submitted a request to Brother Cavil to have everyone talked to, and looked at...new religious counsel aboard our ship, and if one of us has to go through it, we all do it...as a family. Back to my point, Scholar is filling in for Dodgeball on the CAP, and make sure you check your shifts. I know you guys are tired, but we need someone out there for initial Cylon engagement. The CAP should be coming in within the hour, so be ready to turn over duty. Listen...this will stop eventually. From what I've heard, the Centurions based in our Starboard Hangar have installed some sort of tracking beacon, and that's how the Cylons are coming after us...we have teams trying to find any way possible to enter the sealed off part of the ship and engage. Just...do your best, it will be over soon, I promise. Also, don't forget the basics of combat. Pilots are tired, and when a pilot is tired, they make mistakes. Remember the basics, you make less mistakes. Never leave your leader, stick with your wingman...and if it gets too crazy, pull back. Don't try to be a hero and take on the whole Cylon fleet. Dismissed."

The group slowly filed out of the room, all except for Eclipse, who stood slowly, and walked up to the podium. Poet's eyelids were getting heavy, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Gently, she set a hand on his shoulder, "Ly, you really need to get some sleep. This is killing you more than everyone else. You've been taking double, sometimes even triple shifts on the CAP, you're one of the first into combat...you need to relax. The knuckle draggers even tell me that when you're not in the cockpit, you're down in the Hangar trying to fix the Vipers." Poet pulled away from the woman, shaking his head in defiance, "I'll be fine...I do what I do for all of you...I'm dead tired...if we kept with normal shifts, a bunch of pilots would probably just be dead. And Chief Hardin was almost killed by those Centurions...she's probably still spooked, and her guys are tired. They need all the help they can get. Cassandra...just don't worry about me, alright?" He smiled at her, thinking about to all the times in flight school, getting drunk, hitting clubs all night, doing all kinds of stupid stuff together. Cassandra was his best friend on this entire ship, but she wouldn't be able to change his mind...and as for Scholar, Poet hoped that she knew better than to try and stop him, CAG or not.

Taking this moment of peace, which was due to be very short, he made his way to the shower, and stripped down, letting the hot water run through his hair. He ran his hand over his face, the beard scratching against his skin. For the first time in a week, he shaved. He trimmed his hair to a reasonable length, and checked his wounds. They had been healing nicely, and there would probably not be any scars. A few other people entered the room, and as Poet turned to leave, still shirtless, one of the pilots gasped, her eyes stuck to his back. It was obvious, from the raised ink and redness that it was new...down his back, the names of all the pilots they had lost so far were tattooed. At the top was a set of Elite Pilot Wings, like the one worn on uniforms. In an elegant scrawl under it , just above the names, were words from the Sacred Scrolls, Their deaths were met with lightning and thunder, the father of the Gods angered, the blood of his children spilled upon the earth. And so their enemies were struck down, for Zeus' revenge was mighty and righteous. Looking upon his fellow pilots, he left the room, pulling his shirt back on, and making his way to his locker, pulling himself into his flight suit. Quickly, he jogged down the passageways of the ship, down to the Port Hangar Bay, waiting for the CAP to return...waiting to see Scholar...it had been about twenty-five minutes since the last Cylon attack...the last break they had between attacks had only been about ten, so this was a refreshing change.

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[Lysander the Poet]

╔══════════════╗
Day: 10
Mycenae Crew: 4,458
Civilians: 236
Ships in the fleet: 3
Commanding Officer: Commander Demetry Antov
Executive Officer: N/A
CAG: Captain Persephone Joaliss
55 Vipers
20 Raptors
Ammunition Supplies stores are empty, supplies are running low. The crew has gone 176 hours without sleeping. The Cylons have been posing random attacks, due to a tracking beacon installed in the Starboard Hangar Bay. Teams are attempting to breach the doors and eliminate the Cylons. Civilians are in a panic. Brother Cavil is now performing psychological evaluations on all crew members.
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[Hell Mistress]

↱---------------------------------------------------------↠∘●

◦◦Persephone ‘Scholar’ Joaliss◦◦
Captain Reporting for duty....

Just call me Persy...

...or Scholar
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Everything just seemed to keep rolling down hill..

Scholar was just as drained, exhausted, moody and physically pushing it as the rest of the crew. She was working her share of double shifts, AND thanks for hew new title, having to set up the CAP and instructions for the attacks.. which, as hectic and unpredictable as they were, were running her to the bone.

She opened her eyes in a quick jolt, as she connected she’d dozed off with the few moments she had conjuring up the new CAP. The sheet was before her, the sketchy, poorly written names and the times and coordinates they were to fly.. she felt her fingers crumple against it, lazy eyes turning to the clock to acknowledge she was late for her pre-flight briefing.. yet she didn’t get worked up over it. She knew Poet would at least gather something in her absence.

“Frak..” it took all the strength to pry her from the unusually comfortable chair with the sheet dangling in her hand. She swigged down some water and a few more stims before she forced herself from the rec room, only to be united with chatter moments after.

“Captain!...Scholar.. what’s the deal not showing, huh?” It was Praise. The obnoxious blonde who, next to Poet, thought she was the best and could get away with anything.. unfortunately, her perks weren’t greeted as nicely.
“You decided to take a frakkin’ break, didja? You know, we’re all stressing out here, just because YOU’RE Captain, fansy little CAG doesn’t give you permission to sleep and rest while we work ourselves to the frakkin’ bone!” Praise was being herself. Bitchy, annoying as almost everyone else was. Her loud voice making Persy groan and rub her forehead, but the girl just wouldn’t break route in following.

“Did you finish the CAP at least? C’mere, give it!” The blonde snatched it from Scholar and she gave little resistance. the girl skimmed the list for her name before she nearly growled, her tone raising an octave as she stood in front of Persy and cut off her pace.

“The FRAK is this? A double shift, you want me out there for double the time this morning, AND an evening shift? You’ve got to be frakkin’ kidding me, I’m not doing that!”
“Praise, give me the sheet.”
“No, no I’ll give you the damn sheet.. you, gimme a pen.” Praise spun and approached a local Tech support member and pried a pen from them. Without permission or care she then went to the nearest wall and started scratching out her double and triple shifts on the sheet.. leaving Persy to watch with furrowed brows.

“Praise, leave it alone. We NEED you out there.. we’re down too many, we all need to pull our share and then some!”
“Our share? OUR share and THEN SOME? Why the frak does Babble get to just sit in the sick bay, huh? I saw him last night, he was fully rested, could talk and everything.. so why can HE SLEEP, HE REST and RELAX, and WE have to take HIS frakkin’ shifts! No, no this is ridiculous, Cylon’s orfrakkin’ not, I’m not doing this!” Praise threw the sheet back to Scholar as the brunette grumbled. The blonde went to shove past for her quarters when Persephone reached out to grab her by the shoulder and pull her.

“Praise, get your frakkin’ a** to the hangar bay... We need to do a quick scan, I need you out there with us..that's an ORDER.” she was trying to be peaceful, keep her calm(as hard as that was becoming).
“No, no FRAK you and FRAK you goddamn plan! I’m getting some frakkin’ rest, LIKE I DESERVE!”
Gripping the girls suit tightly, Persephone swung her with all she could and threw her from walking off into a hard tumble to the ground. The blond landing with a hard ‘oomf’ before Persephone lent over her and grabbed her by the scuff.

“Praise, stop giving us frakkin’ problems! We’re doing all we can, and we need to keep our cool and godsdamn focus! If you can’t do that much, I’ll send your a** to the sick bay in a mangled mess.. or get you to in the brig for refusing work in war times! Praise, be a frakkin’ grown up.. we’re all trying our best here.” Persephone could see the girl fuming, probably about to hit her square on.. and the minor attention was a little disturbing. Persephone stood up and helped pull Praise up. They were friends, they shouldn’t become so vulgar.
“..Do the two first shifts, I’ll take your evening round. Please.. just go get in your damn cockpit.” Praise was roaring to sucker the brunette.. but with a deep inhale she held herself in, cussed under her breath and stormed off after a lazy salute.

Persephone scratched her head at the little play before running her fingers through her hair, which was matted and tied back with a purple headband across her forehead, keeping her bangs out of her face. Rolling up her sleeves she continued for the hangar bay to announce what she made.. she was taking three shifts today, no surprise. Poet was taking two, Praise two, and, well, with their numbers so low, almost everyone was sitting with duel roles or more. Persephone wasn’t too pleased with it either as she entered and started to erase and write the names over the board. Blinking in-between never seeming so difficult.. so restful to do.

“Okay, I know we're all tired, and I know this doesn’t look the best, but we need to keep it together and get this forwarded.. Pierce and Casper dropped this morning from overdose, so we need someone to fill two more suits.. I’ll take the morning run for those who need the extra rest.. anyone up for claiming a third night shift?” Of course it was quiet as her eyes scanned over. Nobody wanted more than they absolutely HAD to.. and having to take her own two shifts, PLUS Praise’ night round and now Casper’s morning shift.. things were just piling up more than she could bare. A breaking point was getting close, for all of them. Especially when Praise went overboard, turned to a chattering member and decked the pilot square in the jaw, flooring them easily!

“Frak you! Shut the frak up!” The blond hissed, a brawl between the two starting, making Scholar’s stress continue to climb, having to jump down and try to pry the bickering duo from one another.

“Godsdammit, get it the frak together!”

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[Lysander the Poet]

【 ℒｉｅｕｔｅｎａｎｔ 】

►ʟʏsᴀɴᴅᴇʀ 'Poet' ᴅᴇʟᴏʏ◄

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Poet stood in the crowd of pilots, waiting for Persephone. She entered the Hangar Bay, looking tired as frak like the rest of them. As she started speaking, he could feel his mind only catching half of the words...Gods he was exhausted. All of them had been issued a bottle of stims, but his sat in his jacket pocket, still full. He hated how they made him feel, especially afterwards. They were supposed to increase your attentiveness, reaction time. It just made Poet want to frakkin' kill someone. The tired pilot barely managed to catch the last part of whatever the frak Scholar was takling about. The others started their incessant chatter, complaining that they were tired, complaining about the CAG, bitching about the Cylons, and the psychological evaluations with Brother Cavil, and just about everything. Apparently, Praise, whom Poet had never really gotten along with, probably because they were quite similar personality wise, had enough of it, and decked one of the other pilots. The two began to fight, and the rest of the crowd began cheering. The deck crew soon followed, everyone watching the brawl.

Persephone was making her way down to the action, but Poet got there first. Grabbing one of the pilots, he tossed him back into the crowd, who moved, letting him fall flat on his face. Praise turned around, locking eyes with Poet, and swung a punch at him. Reaching out quickly, he grabbed her arm, and twisted inwards bringing it down and into her chest, her face twisting in pain. Poet smiled, and pulled his lips to her ear, whispering in a menacing tone, "Now you listen to me. You keep making problems, giving the CAG a hard time, hitting other pilots, I swear to the Gods I will find you, give you the fight that you are oh so looking for, and when you're a bleeding pile on my rec room floor, I will rip those wings off of your uniform myself. Straighten the frak up, go get a couple drinks, and pull yourself together, or I'll pull you apart."

He pushed her away gently, and the others watched him, fear in their eyes. One thing about Poet that everyone learned, was never make him angry. He was a screw up, a joker, and completely nuts, but the moment you pissed him off, it all melted away. He became the officer everyone hated, the a*****e to rule them all. "Listen up! All of us are tired, and all of us are sick of this. But I don't give a frak. You will stand your Godsdamned watches. You will take your shifts, or I swear, I will come find you, and I will end you. If you don't have what it takes to be a pilot, to defend this ship, to defend the civilians of our fleet, then let me know right now. Being a pilot is the only thing that matters to me, and if you are going to insult that, I will take your wings, right here, and you can go find something else to do. Find another position aboard the ship, with worse conditions. We have it pretty damn good, you know. And I am willing to say that I love all of you as a family, but this is intolerable. Quit whining like a bunch of frakkin' babies, get the frak in your cockpits, fly the frakkin' CAP, and when the Cylons come, go blow the frakkin' Toasters up. Simple as that."

His voice echoed throughout the Hangar Bay, and everyone seemed to have backed up a few feet. Returning to a calm, he looked at the crowd before him, and turned to see all of their faces, "Didn't you hear what I said? Dismissed...all of you, get back to work. Captain, I'll take the shift...and can I talk to you in the Ready Room?" The pilots dispersed, and Poet walked quickly through the passageways, until he reached the Ready Room. They were all so busy, but he needed a moment of respite. As Scholar entered the room, Poet closed and locked the door behind her, and grabbed her hand, pulling her along, and then pushing her against the whiteboard at the front of the room that they used for keeping track of the CAP. He kissed her, he couldn't help it, he needed to release his tension, he needed to relax...and he needed to show what, and who, he was fighting for. This blissful union however, was interrupted, as the ship's alarm began to blare loudly in their ears.

"Actions stations, Actions stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. I repeat, actions stations, actions stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill."

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[Hell Mistress]

↱---------------------------------------------------------↠∘●

◦◦Persephone ‘Scholar’ Joaliss◦◦
Captain Reporting for duty....

Just call me Persy...

...or Scholar
●∘↞---------------------------------------------------------↵

This was exactly why she didn’t want promotions!
The normal stress like everyone else would be fine. She’d manage. Live. But the added stress of MAINTAINING certain individuals in these times.. only made her want to freak the frak out, deck them all or just walk off. Hell, she’d rather just sit in the brig, or get stuck sick in the sick bay.. anything but all this nonsense, day after day.. but lucky for her, where she fell short, Poet came in.

She quickly caught him taking the scene apart as she, once again, failed to properly contain her team.. she groaned and sighed, but nearly smirked as she watched Poet twist and bring Praise to her knee’s.. a tough girl, a rough, not to bend down to anyone, girl, and Poet had her nearly bowing to him. In immense pain, and quickly after, showing an expression of sheer fear.. it made Scholar grin slightly to the scene.. lucky for her, she only ever got his words. If she ever got him this mad, this.. menacing.. she could only imagine how she’d feel. Especially since just watching his reaction had goose bumps tickle her flesh.

Not much longer, and the crowd was dispersed. No more disputes as their bickers went silent. She sighed deeply, scratching her head and watching as Poet gave his attention to her. “I didn’t give you the shift for a reason..” she grumbled, not wanting to push more than she had to on him, knowing how terrible his body was taking it already, despite how worse others were.
“..but, hey thanks. You’ve really been covering my a** here. I really.. appreciate it.” And she meant every word. Ever since her slippery slope of being CAG, she was trying hard, but falling short.. she could grow into it, yes, but Poet always seemed to know more. Know just what to say, do, react to control and fix a situation.. it’s as if he was her words while she did whatever else was around. Like the CAP today.. since he briefed them all while she lazed about.

“..really appreciate it.. I’ve been slacking.” But in her confusing actions to try and avert eye contact with Poet, she managed to lose that focus and look at him with a cocked brow when he.. requested to talk to her. Her heart nearly sank as she swallowed a lump in her throat. Ever since their time in the brig, a week ago, things were.. different. Not to say it was terrible, or that she was fully complaining, but.. it was.. she just didn’t know how to feel. She followed after him without hesitation, despite pondering what he’d do. Knowing what he’d do, especially when she entered the room and felt him lock the door. Her body then pinned to his once more as they kissed..

The warmth was much needed. Comforting, motivating.. in a time of war, it was as if this was their only salvation. Only reason to keep pushing and pray to the Gods relief would soon strike. To have these little moments, these small openings to just.. be together, made her incredibly happy. But also a little uncomfortable.. should she really be indulging in such a thing? It wasn’t illegal to be with him, sure, but something about it just made her feel awkward. When she saw him in the halls, she’d quickly look away. Avoid talking to him if she could, and even, as much as she hated to admit.. try and give him more slack than others. Her emotions were scattered, and all because of one, unfortunately frakked up, night. And now these comforting lips couldn’t pry themselves from her.

...until their moment was broken by the alert.
It was to be expected as she groaned at the loud, obnoxious command.
“..'Paging Lieutenant Romance and Captain Sexy.. get the frak out of your little world' Of course, frak.” She bit her lower lip, before leaning in, squeezing in one last, quick, hot kiss before she nibbled his lip and pulled back, zipping up her suit from it’s leisure slip and motioned for them to leave.

“..let’s go get this over with..” she said slightly irritated, but also.. somewhat.. happy, that they didn’t get any further.

She raced from the Ready room and down the hall back to the hangar bay. She jogged past the already prepared Vipers and snatched her helmet up to jump into hers. Before climbing in, she tapped the side twice. The new decal, to be exact.. making her lips curl as she tittered.
“So lame..” she groaned, the ‘Caprican Princess’ seeming to be a lot harder to dismiss as she climbed in, started her baby up and awaited everyone else to fall in check.. using the time to rotate her stiff shoulder momentarily, lucky it healed as it did.

"Okay guys, remember to keep yourself alert and on the ready! Don't do anything stupid.. keep your wits at the ready and remember to keep your eyes peeled. Good hunting, everyone."

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[Lysander the Poet]

【 ℒｉｅｕｔｅｎａｎｔ 】

►ʟʏsᴀɴᴅᴇʀ 'Poet' ᴅᴇʟᴏʏ◄

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Three Days Ago ::

"Good to see you, Lieutenant. I was wondering when the first of the pilots was going to come to see me, once I heard that it was made mandatory for all of you to come and see me. An evaluation and one full session, and then you're done...though I would hope that you could come and see me again. A lot of you have caught my eye, especially you and...Captain Joaliss. These are uncertain times, and I can understand the need to be...closer to the Gods. Your tattoo, the one on your arm...it is very interesting. Are you quite religious, Lieutenant?" Brother Cavil sat behind his desk, arms crossed, staring at the Viper pilot. Poet sat with a similiar posture, arms crossed, frustrated look on his face, fatigue tugging at his eyes. This was the last place he wanted to be at the moment, but he figured he might as well go first, and see if that would be enough to convince the others.

"My mother was very religious. She tried to bring me up that way, dad wouldn't have anything for it. I take a little bit from both sides I suppose. The scriptures are ingrained in my mind. It's a part of me...I recite verses every morning when I wake, every time before I eat, and every night before I go to bed. It's family tradition, as much as the military, as much as holding on to Leonese...all that crap. Am I religious? I'd say yes...deep down, somewhere." Poet uncrossed his arms, looking at the priest with suspicion. Something about this man just pulled at his nerves, made him wary...the same feeling he felt when sitting the cockpit, staring at a group of Cylon Raiders. Made his skin frakkin' crawl. Pushing these feelings out of his mind, he adjusted his chair, and looked back at the priest. Brother Cavil merely smiled, flipping through some papers on his desk.

"Right...so, on to my next question...how is the leadership under Captain Joaliss going? I heard she's a newer pilot on this ship, so her being given the position of CAG is a bit...uncalled for. I hear a lot of people complaining, saying that you deserve the position. You're a skilled pilot, you're something of a hero among the crew. What do you think of her as the CAG? And does your romantic relationship with her seem to be getting in the way of...your professional relationship?" The sudden accusation of Poet having a romantic relationship with Scholar caught him by surprise. "You're kidding me, right Brother? I don't have any sort of romance with Captain Joaliss. That's a ridiculous accusation!" Brother Cavil laughed heartily, shaking his head. "Come now, Lieutenant...don't lie to me. I'm a man of the Gods, and they don't look too kindly on those whom would lie. I've seen you two...the way you look at her...the way she refuses to look at you...now please, answer the question..."

"I guess nothing gets past you, Brother...listen, she earned her position as CAG. She's a damn good pilot, she's got leadership in her...she just needs to adjust, get used to it, and under normal conditions. She'll grow into it, eventually. I trust her with my life, and the lives of all our pilots. No matter what there is between us, it has no effect on our professional relationship. I pull double shifts on the CAP like everyone else. I work just as hard, maybe harder, than the others. She doesn't cut me any slack, give me any special treatment, and I don't expect her to. If she did, I'd probably have to kick her a** myself." Poet chuckled, pulling a cigar and lighter out of his pocket, "You don't mind, do you?" Brother Cavil shook his head, smiling, as Poet placed the cigar in his mouth and lit it, taking a mouthful of smoke and blowing it right into the priest's face. "Let us hope that your faith in the good Captain is well placed...for all our sakes."

Brother Cavil stood up and began to pace behind his desk. "And how are you feeling, Lieutenant? Tired? Most of your pilots are either on stims, or holed up in the sick bay BECAUSE of them...major cases of exhaustion, an attempted suicide or two. All hope is crashing down, but you don't seem to be affected...and you haven't used any of those drugs the rest of your pilots have been loving." Poet pulled the full bottle of stims out of his pocket, and played with it for a moment, jiggling the pills around in the bottle, "We can't call be stim junkies, y'know? some of us have to stay sane, un-drugged, and precise. I absolutely despise these frakkin' things. Yeah, I'm tired...but so is everyone else. Most of my pilots are out of commission, but once we blow up those frakkin' Centurions and their stupid beacon, we'll be safe...just gotta give the DC teams time to crack the doors on the Hangar Bay. Chief Hardin saved our a** with that info, and keeping our Vipers up and running. Listen, are we done here? I've got to report to the Hangar Bay. I'm on my second shift for the CAP." Brother Cavil nodded, and gestured to the door, and Poet walked out, cigar still in his mouth, leaving a trail of smoke.

Present Day ::
Each blink felt like an eternity. One moment, he was climbing into the cockpit, the next he was lazily going through his flight checks, and another blink went by, and he was racing down the launch tube, his Viper bursting into space with the others. Keeping his eyes open, keeping himself awake, that was the real fight. Not the Cylons, whom they'd tangled with hundreds of times. Fighting against himself...he was the real enemy. No sleep, he hadn't eaten in the last two days, and he refused to take stims like the rest of the pilots. The loose formation of Vipers was weaving gracefully through the Raider Squadrons. Darkness was taking over Poet's vision, as he slowly faded out. Voices were blaring over the comm chatter, but they were nothing but gibberish to the failing mind of Lysander Deloy. His Viper shook violently, waking up, as the garbled voices tuned in, words finally forming in his head. "POET! WAKE THE FRAK UP!"

Poet's Viper pulled into a sharp dive, straight through a group of Raiders that the other pilots had just opened fire upon. The Cylon ships exploded around him, shaking his ship violently. Pulling back up, he swerved, joining the rest of the formation, feeling more awake than before. "Welcome back to the world of the living, Poet. Nice to see you bright and shiny. How about we, uh, have some fun, maybe show the Captain how a real pilot does it?" Poet smiled, and laughed over the comm. "Okay everyone, let's go ahead and do a fancy little maneuver I like to call the Caprican Screwdriver, elegantly named for the famous drink that I was taking in when I made this up." A group of the pilots pulled out from the main formation, and pulled into a tight spiral together. Opening fire on a group of Raiders, the shots shredded the Cylons apart with ease. Returning to the formation, Eclipse's voice came over the comms again, "Alright, everyone, let's go back home. FTL Drive is spooled up, and we're ready to go. Birds going back to the barn."

The Vipers raced through space, rushing towards the flight pod, the door sliding closed quickly. The Vipers barely managed to make their way into the Hangar Bay before the doors closed. The many new dents in the deck were quite beautiful after this, their billionth combat landing. The knuckle draggers would have a lot of work ahead of them. Exiting his Viper, he joined the others in their applause and cheers at their insane manuever. A familiar voice came on loudly through the ship, something they had heard hundreds of times, "All hands, prepare for jump." The sickening feeling of the jump passed quickly, followed by screams from one of the pilots, who had just exited his cockpit. Blood was running out of his knows, and he was twitching violently. "MEDIC! SOMEONE GET HIM TO SICK BAY! STIM OVERDOSE!" Poet had charged over in an instant, breaking through the crowd of celebrating pilots. The Marines rushed forward, picking up the downed pilot, carrying him away. Poet stumbled back, and slumped down against the Viper, his eyes sliding closed. He needed a rest, but of course, there wouldn't be time, the Cylons would be on top of them soon.

Eclipse found her way over to Scholar, and smiled at the CAG gently. Saluting the Captain smartly, she fell into step beside her, speaking quietly so only Persephone could hear her, "Listen, Captain...if you need any help, you can let me know. It's rough, being CAG in a time like this, I know. It'll get better, once you get used to it. You have all of the pilots' support. Especially Poet...he says a lot of good things about you, your tactics, all kinds of stuff...but listen, he and I have been friends for years. We went to flight school together, served together since then...I know him better than anyone, and I've seen how he acts around you. I just want you to know...he's my best friend, and I swear to the Gods, if you hurt him, I will find you...and I will beat the living frak out of you, understand? You've been on this ship for almost two months, and in that time, we've all grown fond of you...you've become part of the family...but don't think for a second that you're one of us just yet. You're the CAG, you're the big bad Captain, but to a lot us, deep down inside, you're still the newbie."

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[Lysander the Poet]

Three Days ago ::

Brother Cavil stood stall, hands resting on the altar lightly, as he prepared for services for the dead...many of the pilots in the sick bay probably weren't going to make it, from a myriad of disorders and occurrences. One of them had even committed suicide, or so he had been told. That was of course the event that triggered mandatory evaluations and sessions for all pilots...forcing the Brother to spend much of his time with them...time that he felt was wasted. The stunk of the signature stench of their race. Of tylium fuel, of rusty Viper parts, and of putrid sweat. Humans were disgusting. But it was all for a cause...the attacks on the colonies had not gone as well as they should have. The fact that any of the humans survived was a testament to the failure of the Cylons. Infiltration and destruction of these final pockets of humanity was paramount. The door to the chapel swung open almost silently, and a man stepped in. His eyes fell upon Cavil and he smiled, walking towards the priest. This man wore a flight suit, but his rank pins were not those of an officer. He was a nugget, a new pilot, just being trained to replace the recent casualties. His training had not yet begun, but he was already getting his evaluation out of the way.

His familiarity with the Brother was awkward. It was as if they had known each other for a long while. Cavil shook the man's hand, and gestured towards a chair, which the man took gladly. His dog tags sat on the outside of his flight suit, a slight shine glancing off if then from the light. The name Conoy, L. was printed clearly on them, and Cavil took a moment to observe them as he sat across from the pilot. Leoben turned his head in curiosity at the priest, squinting for a moment, then smiling, "Brother...it seems odd, a man of the Gods, giving psychological evaluations. Are the humans perhaps too foolish to see through such a simple ruse?" Cavil chuckled, shaking his head, and taking a cup from the altar, filled with Ambrosia and taking a deep drink, offering another cup to Leoben, who shook his head. "The Humans are stupid, ignorant, smelly apes, barely capable of independent thought. I doubt the would see through our deception if we waved it in front of their sweaty, putrid faces. You seem to have fit in well though, Two. Now that you have access to the Pilot's inner circle, I have a real task for you. There are two pilots of interest to me...Lysander Deloy, or Poet as they call him. He is an obstacle...he must be eliminated. Getting close to him is easy enough. Cassandra Veril is his closest friend, and she preserves a romantic interest in him...exploit that, and you can get to him. Kill him, and your next task becomes even easier..."

Cavil drank deeply of his cup, and rose to his feet, walking to the back of the room, and pouring another such cup from his bottle, before returning to his seat, and sighing heavily. "Your second task, is to seduce Persephone Joaliss. Do not harm her...just do like the Eight on Caprica is doing...make her fall in love with you. She is a useful tool, especially in the long run. Have the ear of the CAG, and you have the pilots, and eventually the Commander at your beck and call. That will make the destruction of this ship so much easier. Now get to it...I have appointments to keep..." Cavil shooed Leoben away with one hand, drinking once more from his cup, as the other Cylon stood and slowly opened the door, coming face to face with Eclipse, who smiled. "Oh, look, one of the nuggets. Better get your a** down to the Ready Room. Got a book sitting there that I need you to read, word for word, before we even start your actual flight training. That's an order, nugget!"

Cassandra laughed in Leoben's face, and a single thought raced through his 'mind'...he could easily wrap his hands around her throat and strangle her to death. But Cavil had made it clear...she was the way to Deloy...so she would live, for now. Leoben saluted his superior officer, and continued along his path, towards the Ready Room. Eclipse approached Cavil, and looked over at the half-empty bottle of Ambrosia, "Hope you've got some left for me, Brother. It's been crazy around here, and I need a stiff drink and a chance to sit down. Pulling the CAP in about an hour, so, let's wrap this up. Cavil lifted the cup he had previously offered to Leoben, and handed it to Eclipse, who drank all of it at once, smiling and wiping a hand across her lips. Cavil grinned, and refilled her cup, which she drank from slowly this time.

"Lieutenant Veril, good to see you. My questions for you are quite simple...how do you feel about the CAG? And how do you feel about her relationship with Poet? On a professional level...and a more personal one. Do not hesitate to be honest. Everything you say is held in absolute confidence." At mention of Scholar and Poet, Eclipse glared at the priest, her hands tightening into fists. Another large gulp of Ambrosia calmed her down, but her eyes were still in a narrow, hateful stare. "She's fine...a wonderful CAG. Not our first choice, of course, but I'll support her, especially since Poet does. The fact that they're definitely frakking on the side, well, that is a non-issue. None of the others even know about it...they all think the two are trying to kill each other, especially after that yelling match in the brig. But I know pretty much everything about Poet, and I know he frakked her...and I know how strongly he feels for her. I had a huge crush on him in flight school, and now he's my best friend, and probably the closest thing I have to family...I'm not going to say anything about his relations with Scholar...I don't want to hurt anything that makes him happy...I just hope she returns his feelings. If she crushes him, I will frak up her world. She breaks his heart, I'll break her face...and a shame too...that pretty little face...covered in blood...shattered nose..." Eclipse found herself laughing almost uncontrollably just thinking about breakin Scholar's face.

"Actions stations, Actions stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. I repeat, actions stations, action stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill."

The blare of the alarm, a rush of adrenaline, Eclipse was on her feet in seconds. She looked at the priest a few times before charging out of the room towards the hangar bay. Cavil merely leaned back and smiled, satisfied with the information he had acquired. Now he only had to count on Leoben to get rid of Poet, and seduce Scholar, without revealing himself as a Cylon...because revealing the secret that Cylons looked human would ruin everything...though, it would promote discord and distrust among the already exhausted, frustrated crew...perhaps, there was an alternative...a new plan started to form in Cavil's mind, though he decided to let his initial plan run its course, since he didn't expect the Two to succeed...he half expected the Cylon to revert to his usual...psychotic religious ramblings about God, and his plan, and all that other garbage. It made Cavil sick...they were machines, nothing more. God was an impossible, illogical, idiotic concept that would be more suited to pacifying children.

[Hell Mistress]

↱---------------------------------------------------------↠∘●

◦◦Persephone ‘Scholar’ Joaliss◦◦
Captain Reporting for duty....

Just call me Persy...

...or Scholar
●∘↞---------------------------------------------------------↵

That casual, routine sensation as she was ejected from the safety of the ship, launched out into open fire amongst them, and the Cylon’s. Her eyes falling upon a few Vipers being shot down.. two.. two that were just tired, just wanted to rest, go home.. and she couldn’t help but curl her fists against her wheel as she spun her way through the torrents of fire.

This was ridiculous. This was all, just, ridiculous! How did things manage to escalate into this? Innocent lives being claimed, no rest for a single soul, everyone suffering. Everyone.. and yet their light of hope was dimming with every passing instant.
Scholar kept in line with another pilot at her ready, the two taking out an incoming Raider with quite ease.. but it wasn’t enough. There was more.. oh, so many more...

“Poet!”
And then she heard his name get called.
“POET! WAKE THE FRAK UP!" Her heart sank as she turned to see their routine, and Poet’s Viper dipping. She hated to admit it, hated to think the very thought.. but if she wanted anyone to survive through this.. it was him. She could brush the idea off as much she wanted, but in times like this, it was near impossible.
She couldn’t bare to watch him suffer, it was making her chest tighten, her breath catch.. until finally he freed himself and fell into proper formation. A sigh of relief, as her mind set back just in time to collide head on with a Raider her company shot.

“Oh, frak, Scholar! I thought you saw it coming your way! You okay? Frak.” He called over her comm, and she quickly took note of any damage. Her DRADIS started to hit static as her lights flickered red warning.. and her newly repaired Viper was smoking from a cleave into it’s left wing.

“Frak.. c’mon, let’s get you back in, quick!”
Scholar blinked again, god she was blinking so much.. and suddenly she was out of her cockpit, and standing by her Viper. She managed to get in safely, crashing her Viper as usual into the deck, and now she stood just staring off..

Her eyes wandered the celebrating Pilot’s for a short moment before she acknowledged Poet, and after that, felt her body wobble, having to keep from going to check on him as her own head throbbed, ached.. her vision blur for a slight moment as she held her forehead..
“Godsdamn! Frakkin’ jump..” she accused, tilting her head back as she dropped her helmet, collecting her sanity in a quick breath, before she was distracted once more.. her eyes opened to see Eclipse approach her, and, odd enough, it felt unusual to see her come over. She could of sworn the girl was glued to Poet of all things..

“Urg, you’re telling me..Great job out there.” She softly muttered, unzipping her suit for a breather and downing a few more stims, probably the cause for her trembling frame, but she needed them.
“Mmn..” but there was more. Eclipse wasn’t just here for leisure, to befriend her, be nice, offer assistance.. Scholar’s eyes quickly shot to the brunette as her words got a bit more sharp... her throat swallowing the two pills before she tucked them away.

“..would appreciate if ya kept your words to yourself..” she grumbled mostly to herself as her brows furrowed. Of all the things to say, in a time like this.. this woman before her decided on such a double-edged sword to jab her way. Scholar took a moment or two to replay what was just said, her lips sighing a deep, heavy breath.. and in her fume she had half the mind to ball her fist and smack the woman clear across the cheek!
Just like Poet.. but no, this wasn’t her. She couldn’t let something so.. trivial take advantage in this time. Their time of war...

“I’m not asking for trouble. I'm not hurting no one here, Lieutenant. He’s a good Pilot.. let’s keep it that way. Now.. if you’ll excuse me...” Scholar kept her remarks to herself, but in that effort, let her confusion slip in..
What were her and Poet? They couldn’t be much more than convenience. Eclipse was clearly just jealous... right?

She marched through the crowd, giving a passing glance to Poet.. but shaking the idea to go and question him. He deserved his rest, anyways.. she could ponder the outcome later. Or now.. as he feet managed to drag her through the hangar bay and, to her surprise, to the Chapel. Nobody was presently taking their evaluation.. and since she had been pushing it off, avoiding it.. she felt now would be as best a time as any to step in. She needed to calm her nerve. Needed the relief everything wasn’t falling down as she felt it was.
She rapped against the door softly before leaning in, nearly tripping on the step before walking in.

“..Brother Cavil?” that was his name, wasn’t it? “Uh, if you have the time, mind if I weasel in my session now?”

---------------------------------------------------------

[Lysander the Poet]

【 ℒｉｅｕｔｅｎａｎｔ 】

►ʟʏsᴀɴᴅᴇʀ 'Poet' ᴅᴇʟᴏʏ◄

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Poet's eyes sort of fluttered, listening to the various sounds of the Hangar deck. His body was descending into exhaustion. And then that wonderful after-jump feeling, the world spinning around him. Struggling to his feet, he felt himself getting hauled up by a few stray arms, and whoever was helping him along seemed to be carrying him out, with the intention of taking him to his bed. "Get...yours hands off me...I gotta CAP shift to fly...get off!" Poet stumbled as he struggled, trying to get out of his 'captor's' grasp. The pilots holding him had a firm grip, and held him on his feet, half-dragging him now. "Don't you worry 'bout that, sir. I got your shift. After the s**t you pulled out there, I think you've earned a bit of sleep."

They had eventually brought the half-dead, rockstar pilot into the pilot's quarters, and shoved him gently into his bunk. Once more, he tried to protest, to which he felt a fist hit his jaw. Looking at the figure who struck him, his vision fading in and out, he realized it had been Eclipse, which brought a smile to his face, which in turn caused the new pain in his jaw to flare up. "Nighty night, Lover Boy..." The others chuckled, as did Poet, as he faded off to sleep, drifting into troubled dreams. The other pilots exited the quarters, preparing their Vipers, flying out the CAP, resuming normal ship operations. The next wave of Cylons would not come for longer than usual this time...soon an hour had passed, and everyone was on edge. Meanwhile, Poet was deep in his dreams.

~

Lysander Deloy struggled along a long corridor...he barely recognized it as one of the many passages of the Mycenae. An explosion rang out, rocking the entire ship, and throwing him into a wall, smashing the side of his face into a large valve. He felt his nose break as he smashed into the hard, cold metal, and felt blood running down his face. Regaining his footing, he began to limp along faster. He couldn't feel his right arm, and in his left hand he clutched a pistol, gingerly. Shrapnel was sticking out of his hand at odd angles, and it hurt to hold the gun any tighter. Another explosion rang out, shaking the ship a little less violently than before. A sound, familiar to Poet's ears, followed the explosion; the clanking of Centurion limbs. A single Toaster came into view, and raising his arm as quick as possible, he pulled the trigger of his pistol. Being right handed, shooting with his left hand was quite challenging. Still, all the weapons training he went through managed to plant the bullet right in the Toaster's 'eye', blowing its head apart.

"Lieutenant Deloy, please report to the CIC immediately." That was the fourth time he had heard the announcement overhead. Dragging his injured leg, he continued on, his trigger finger itchy, his eye twitching. He heard screams, and looked to his right, and watched as a group of Centurions brutally murdered a group of Marines, spraying their blood across the walls. Every ounce of strength, plus a bout of adrenaline surged though his body, forcing himself to approach the door, but the entire section of the ship as ripped away before his eyes, leaving the cold void of space. He could see the corpses floating off, and watched as a squadron of Cylon Raiders flew by, blowing up a Viper, the flaming wreckage spinning out of control, and suddenly careening towards the doorway before him. He jumped out of the way as the Viper smashed into the ship, and a pilot fell out, barely alive, most of his flesh burned off. He reached up towards Poet, and suddenly his blue eyes flashed red, just like that of a Centurion's 'eye'. Poet instinctively planted a trio of bullet's into the pilot, and using his arms and legs, pushed himself back across the deck.

A soft voice came whispering into his ears...it comforted him, gave him the strength to rise, and he turned to follow the sound, but saw no one. But he could hear it calling for him, and so he forced himself down the hall. The voice of Scholar echoed off the metal, driving him forward. A closed door now stood in his path, but as he got closer, and flung itself open, and he entered the CIC, and caught all the eyes upon him. The entire crew was staring at him, motionless. He lowed his pistol, and looked towards the center of the room. Barely clothed, sitting their in the most seductive pose imaginable, was Scholar. With one finger, she was beckoning to Poet, who obediently approached. The eyes of the others followed, and as he came closer to Scholar, she pushed herself up, and came face to face with him. He attempted to kiss her, but she pulled her head back, and smiled mischievously. Suddenly, she locked lips with him, and as they pulled away from each other, he noticed something out of the corner of his eyes...all of their eyes, every one of the crew, were glowing red. Scholar was smiling, and her eyes also began to glow that horrifying Cylon red. He raised his pistol, but couldn't force himself to shoot her. He felt a knife stab into his chest, and twist. He began coughing up blood, and then felt as the knife was suddenly wrenched from his body. He collapsed to the floor, feeling his guts spilling out across the floor.

~

Brother Cavil's warming smile made him seem friendly, caring, all the things you'd expect from a holy man. He had been waiting for Persephone to come to him...she was the one he was looking forward too most. "Come in, come in my child...I have been awaiting you eagerly, Captain. I have already met your...other half, Lieutenant Deloy. I apologize if putting it as such is inappropriate...I didn't mean that exclusively romantically, of course...you are also quite the team in the cockpit, from what I hear. I hope you haven't heard too many bad things from the others about my sessions. I try to keep them brief enough, since I know everyone is tired, and busy. So, let us begin with...your position as CAG. It must have been quite a shock to find yourself in that position, no offense to your skill as a pilot. From the many comments and rumors that have reached my ears, it seems almost everyone expected Deloy to have that honor. I'm sure he was disappointed at first...though, with all you have to go through now, I suppose he may truly be relieved now, no matter what he says. How do you feel about it? What sorts of things are going through your head? How do you deal with the other pilots, especially when they get violent? And do they respect you? Oh, and I hope you don't mind..."

Pouring himself and Persephone a glass of Ambrosa, he raised his glass for a toast, before downing the entire thing immediately. He smiled at the Captain, feigning joy, and interest in her thoughts and feelings, though he truly just felt disgusted. All of these filthy meat sacks disgusted him, with their gods, and their feelings, and all this other trash. The smell was bad too...so very horrid. Waiting for her answer to his first set of questions, he smiled, and nodded, as he did for everyone else. "And how about your relationship with the Lieutenant? Do you see it going anywhere? We may very well be the last remnants of humanity in all of this universe...and so such a relationship may be needed in the days and months to come. How do you really feel about him...and how do you think he feels about you? Is it true affection, or perhaps just someone to frak since you have nothing else to do?" He drank another glass of the Ambrosa, and his eyes flickered over to the doorway, where he saw Leoben, waiting...just waiting for Persephone to leave, to bump into her, to attempt to flirt, to try and weasel his way into her heart...step one in the plan to destroy all these disgusting monkeys.

The CAP was still gliding out through space, no sign of the Cylons. Activity in the ship was slowly falling, as people began to be relieved from duty, and rest...the first real rest they had gotten in 176 hours of running. The Marines and Engineers were still figuring out a way into the Starboard Hangar bay, and a few of them had even managed to hear the clanking sounds of the Centurions from within. However the Cylons were following them, they were absolutely sure it was coming from within that Hangar. Get in there, destroy the Toasters, get rid of the tracker...and then worry about the million other problems that plagued them. A group of knuckle draggers were laying slumped against the door, snoring their faces off. The Marines had actually brought up a table and were playing Triad, laughing and relaxing.

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[Hell Mistress]

↱---------------------------------------------------------↠∘●

◦◦Persephone ‘Scholar’ Joaliss◦◦
Captain Reporting for duty....

Just call me Persy...

...or Scholar
●∘↞---------------------------------------------------------↵

It was such a surreal notion, wandering into the Chapel. A place she avoided since she boarded the Mycenae was now a place she willingly wandered to.
Maybe it was just REM sleep? Her mentality finally dropping and mistaking work for the easiest check on the list. The request for all personnel to have one consultation with Brother Cavil.. and she chose to do this over find somewhere to catch a few zz’s.
She must of been far past tired. Or just curious. Or just looking for somewhere calming. A place Eclipse, Praise, Poet couldn’t find her. A place she could avoid scold for slacking.. yeah. She’d rather talk to the religion than bicker with her team.
It was easier that way.

Scholar’s eyes examined the room around her as she walked in. It looked so foreign, but at the same time inflicted her with deja-vu. Maybe she avoided these places for a reason. Or maybe she just always forgot.. her mind wasn’t processing complete thoughts at this point, so she gave a half hearted smile, nod, and eagerly let herself slink into the offered chair.
God’s it was incredibly comfy. Were they always this relaxing?

“Mmmn..” she was still getting used to that. Captain. Captain Joaliss.. it really was unexpected.
“Honestly, it shouldn’t of happened. Captain? Captain, me? I was trying to avoid the upgrade for responsibility. Hell, I wish Poet had gotten it.. he deserves it more. If I could, I’d gladly give him my position. But I think it’s more than that.. I have a feeling it was more as a scold to him. You know how he is-abrasive and crass. He does exactly what HE wants, and I’ve experienced that first hand just how bothersome he can be.. I don’t blame the CO for picking me. But at the same time, I wish he hadn’t. Poet would be a better CAG, aggressive or not, he’d fit the bill better.” She tried to avoid the intimate details. Other half? Partners? They were partners on duty. They made a pretty good team, that was for sure, but she didn’t want to go into that. Especially not with how the questions were posed.. it made her a little antsy to reply.

“..with Poet around, I’m the one that gets violent.” She scoffed, taking the offered glass, watching her company chug it down then following suit, groaning at the thick taste.
“I haven’t had explosions like this in a LONG time.. but lately, I can’t stop it. He rightfully pisses me the frak off, and yet he turns it about just as easily. Urg. It’s the exhaustion right? The other ship’s.. they weren’t ever this intense. Never had Cylon’s attack so frequently. Never.. FOUGHT Cylon’s like this. It’s all so new, painfully new, I have no idea how I should feel about it. So, I guess it just is.” She set the glass down forcefully before she lent back and took in a deep breath, her eyes continuing to wander, this time to the ceiling.

“I don’t feel respected. I don’t feel like I fit. It’s all.. it’s just not right in my mind. But of course, my mind isn’t exactly right-right now. Stim’s kinda make a person act more on impulse than strategic.” She couldn’t stop blabbering. It was such a bad habit.
“...but Poet, he respects me. He helps me, he gets that it’s not easy by myself.” she whispered softly before exhaling deeply and sitting back up to face Cavil, nodding softly with a shrug.
“Always going to be violence though. Just gotta learn to take it, dish it back and settle it like a man-so to speak that is.” She bit her lip softly as her tangent started to slow. In that, however, a new question posed and she felt herself swallow a hard lump.
How did she feel for Poet? Honestly? How did she feel he felt for her...?

It took a long pause for her to reply. A few fidgets here and there and averting her eyes to the side before she gave a shrug.
“It’s not going anywhere.” She said bitterly.
“Poet is a great guy, I give him that. A phenomenal pilot.. but with how things are now, starting up anything more would just sour it. He’s convenient. He’s not someone I’d set anything stable with. Aggressive and irrational.. who would want a man like that? It was just a one time thing. I doubt he feels it as anything more.” She grumbled her words, trying to rationalize what was going on. Maybe she did like him, want more.. but was it really worth it? A man so impetuous in his actions, abusive when he feels it, and demanding at the most bizarre of times, and that’s HER type? No. It was just a fling she happened to enjoy a little too much. He was her partner. Her friend.. nothing more.

She requested another shot of Ambrosia before she swallowed it quickly and stood up, stretching her arms.
“He’s just a good pilot and professional. Let’s leave it at that. I appreciate the time, Brother.. apologies for my rant. It’s been.. hard to find time to get that off my chest, so thanks. Are we done here now? I shouldn’t laze about too much longer, responsibility and the what.” She extended her hand out to him as she spoke.

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[Leni Da SporK PiraTe]

[{ THE D e c e i v e r }]

►◄Roosevelt 'Beast' Finch►◄

xXx``~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``xXx

The standard issue seven foot by three foot bunk that was the home for all enlisted men never felt so small as when Roosevelt sat, awake, in its hard and cold embrace. However, given the how long it had been since his last allotted rack time, he might have welcomed the cool grip of death just as much as the metal sleeping space. Being in the cockpit of the viper as well as the short amount of time he took to sit down and lace his boots were the only time he didn't feel every pound of his body baring down on his feet and, to be honest, he was beginning to cherish this small reprieve as if it were a holy ritual passed down by his ancestors. The twenty seconds of un-adulterated silence that occurred just before the launch sequence of his viper and just after his pre-flight check was where Beast found the Gods.

Beast was in a rest period of the flight rotation, at least until the next Cylon attack. It had been twenty-five minutes and he was able to walk the corridors of the Mycenea to find some peace. Her groans as she waded through deep space were reminiscent of the call of oceanic creatures he had heard as a child. Each lonesome and almost tortured but at the same time therapeutic for the ex- smuggler. The steady beat of his feet on the steel floor was almost enough to rock him to sleep while standing straight up. If not for the bottle of stims in his pocket he might very well be leaning up against some bulkhead off a busy causeway catching some dreams out of the air.

The bulkhead door that clearly read "Chapel" in slightly worn letters practically appeared in front Roosevelt. He smashed into it in his compromised state, jarring him back to reality. He touched his nose, feeling blood slowly run down to meet his quivering lip. His fingers deftly wiped at it as his nose caught the smell of blood mixing slowly with grease and tylium. He smiled and wiped it off onto his standard issue pants. The grey and black undershirts seemed to be squeezing him harder than an anaconda, but he couldn’t very well meet Cavil for the first time with his shirt off. He settled for a quick scratch of his chest and threw open the bulk head to reveal the chapel within. He looked ragged and with good reason. He hadn’t any hair, due to his ritual of shaving it clean every Sunday night, but he did have a mustache that seemed unkempt (as much as a mustache can be).

"Cavil?"

He finally focused on the room for the first time and realized that he had encountered another person he wasn't expecting. There was a female with her arm outstretched. Then he realized exactly who it was. The CAG was standing right in-front of him. He straightened immediately and his eyes shot open wide. He wasn't really a military man, given that he had stolen the uniform when he had found the floating raptor after the cylon attack. Raptors systems could withstand a nuclear blasts so he was bound to go far in that bird. And of course, it had brought him here. Regardless, he was getting used to the military life. It wasn't much different than the strict religious behavior of his virgonese parents.

Realizing his mistake he quickly threw up a salute.

"Sir."

xXx```~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~```xXx

[Lysander the Poet]

【 ℒｉｅｕｔｅｎａｎｔ 】

►ʟʏsᴀɴᴅᴇʀ 'Poet' ᴅᴇʟᴏʏ◄

≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎

Leoben Conoy watched as the bumbling fool that was 'Beast' stumbled by him, probably in a half-drug, half-sleep induced stupor. The man just wreaked of tylium, and sweat, and blood, and humanity. It almost made Leoben sick to his stomach. Cavil, on the other hand, watched the two approach each other, noticed the shift in the large man's demeanor, and knew what he saw instantly; this man was not what he appeared. The uniform didn't seem to fit, not literally, but in a figurative sense. The old priest shook Scholar's hand with a strong shake, and smiled, a glint in his eye, "If there's anything you ever need to talk about, come to me. I'm here for you, Captain...and I think we'll be seeing each other again, real soon." He smiled, and then looked at Finn, and beckoned him in, and made a subtle signal to Leoben to intercept Persephone as she left the room. Looking over 'Beast' curiously, he smiled, and poured some more Ambrosia for his next guest.

"Sharp salute, Lieutenant. Just give me one moment..." Walking towards the door, he shut it behind Persephone, and locked it, turning to face the large, muscular male, rubbing his hands together. "I am, as you have probably figured out by now, Brother Cavil. You, however, are not so easy to place. I've heard some gossip about how you made it on to this ship. A Raptor, with a dead civilian, from the Battlestar Columbia, if I remember correctly. Bullet holes in your uniform, but no wounds to speak of. The uniform doesn't fit you, Lieutenant Finn. I know that, you know htat, and the others are thinking it in the dark places, in the back of their minds. But in such an uncertain time, they are willing to accept you...for now. If any of the found out that you were impersonating a military officer, trying to escape from whatever past life you had...if they even suspected that you may have been the one who murdered the Raptor's pilot and swapped places with him to save yourself...you would not be so welcome. So perhaps that can be our little secret, hm?"

Cavil had taking to pacing, his eyes never leaving Finn, as if he were trying to find all the things that were out of place. He seemed anxious to get this over with, since Finn was not the type he enjoyed dealing with. "Listen, Lieutenant. I don't want to ruin your new life. You seem to be trying your best to integrate, so if you'll do something for me, I'll do something for you. Keep tabs on the pilots, especially Poet, Eclipse, Bullseye...watch them. They are slippery fish in our big old pond. If anyone was to, I don't know, try to wrestle leadership of the ship away from the rightful officers, it would be those troublemakers. And watch out for Captain Joaliss. She's in a vulnerable place right now. Off you go, then. I'm sure you have better things to do than a psychological profile full of questioning."

Cavil hadn't asked Finn anything really, and now he was trying to get the larger man to leave. While all this had been going on, however, Leoben had approached a certain Captain Joaliss, and smiled, nervously. His salute was military perfect, his uniform pressed and clean, as if he had never worn it...he didn't even looked the least bit exhausted. "Sir, Ensign Conoy...I'm your newest pilot. I was wondering if you had a minute to talk...and walk with me?" He gestured down the hall, and began to walk, waiting for the Captain to follow before speaking. "Life's been hard on the ship so far, I don't know how some of you do it. I mean, I'm not even supposed to be a Viper pilot. Just kinda got thrown into it all. And, with all due respect, you're like a shining beacon of light in this hopeless bucket of bolts. If it isn't too much to say, I'm a little jealous of Lieutenant Deloy...you and him, you know, being together, or so, that's what I hear around the ship. He seems like a rash, violent sort though...probably makes your life as CAG a living nightmare too, with all of his crazy stunts." They continued down the corridor, and Leoben slowly became more comfortable. It was quite easy for him to simulate that of a nervous man talking to an attractive woman. He probably should regulate the amount of 'romance' he threw in, since the entire concept was foreign to him, as a machine. They came to a closed door, and Leoben stepped in front of her and opened the door, gesturing her through. "I guess, my point is, Captain, sir, that if you ever need someone to spend time with, that isn't just there so he can frak you, I'd appreciate some lessons on being a better pilot. Since, from what I've seen, you are extremely skilled...you know, if you have the time."

~

"Alright gang, you know how this is gonna go. We open the door, we take these explosive rounds, and we frak those Toasters, hard...find whatever they're using to track us, and turn it into scrap metal. Understood?" The other Marines nodded, a few 'Oo-rahs' rang out, and the sound of rounds chambering echoed through the passageway. The knuckledraggers finally had the door ready to spring open, and the Marines pulled into a formation. A set of boots came stumbling up, the yet another sound of a round chambering in a rifle rang out. A pale, wide-eyed Lysander Deloy looked wearily at Gunnery Sergeant Vandercourt and shook his head. "Gunny...thought you'd start the party without me?" The woman smiled, and raised her rifle, "After you, Lieutenant...I thought you were supposed to be in bed." Lysander chuckled, stepping up next to the Marine, and nodded at the Deck crew to pop the door open. "Yeah, I was supposed to be...but I got restless...You know I hate Toasters, and I'm sick of them hunting us." In reality, Poet needed some action, after the horrid nightmare he had. Flashes of it still sparked in his mind. Their was a large rumbling, and a small detonation, before the Starboard hangar bay doors slid open.

The Marines, led my Vandercourt and Deloy charged in, raising their rifles. A voice came on over the ship's comm system. "Attention all hands. Attack Squadron Alpha has breached the Starboard Hangar Bay. Engagement with the Cylons is imminent." The squadron's comm feed was patched into the overhead comms. "Still no Toasters yet...but it's dark as frak in here...I think the Cylons have rerouted the power to their tracking device. This is bad news." Poet followed closely behind the Gunnery Sergeant, the only illumination being their flashlight beams, shining from their rifles. A few clanks and rumbles were heard in the distance. "Hearing a lot of noises from deeper in...those chrome bastards will be coming any moment." The group came to a pair of passageways, and the teams split up, one led by Poet, the other by Vandercourt. The clanking was getting louder...and then they heard it.

"Actions stations, Actions stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill. I repeat, actions stations, actions stations. Set condition one throughout the ship. This is not a drill."

Frak. The Cylons were back...Squadrons of Raiders appeared on DRADIS, followed by a pair of Basestars. Vipers were going to be scrambled any moment...and the fighting would begin again. The Marines picked up the pace, both squadrons rocketing down the passageways. Poet and his squad found their way to the main hangar, and he motioned for them to halt, as he looked down from their position, spotting the crashed Heavy Raider, a group of Centurions, and a large device he assumed was the tracker. He spoke in a whisper, trying not to alert the Toasters, "Tracking device located. Heavily guarded by Centurions...I spot at least thirty, some with heavy weapons. This ain't gonna be an easy time." Gunshots could be heard, and screaming; Vandercourt's squad had engaged a group of Centurions, and were under heavy fire. Another voice came on over the comms; this one belonged to a pilot; "This is Ensign Conoy...we've engaged the Cylon Raiders...there are a s**t ton of them...we need to blow that tracker and jump the hell out of here." The Viper was racing towards the enemy fighters, and Leoben counted down in his head. Five...four...three...two...one... The two forces clashed, and the usual flurry of shots, explosions, and comm chatter rang out.

Back on the Mycenae, Poet and his squad of Marines moved slowly, and he turned back to the squad, eyeing each of them carefully. "Alright...on my mark, we hop the railing, and we blow these sons-a-bitches to hell. I brought them a little surprise." From his jacket, he pulled out about a dozen grenades, and handed a few to each of the Marines. Giving them a signal, they all leapt over the railing, sending their grenades sailing through the air. The explosions took out most of the Centurions, and then set of a chain reaction explosion from the Heavy Raider, which blew up a few more of them. Gunfire started flying around the Hangar, mostly Cylon. The explosive rounds that the Colonials were armed with were few and far in between, and so they had to be careful with their shots. One of the unlucky Marines was mowed down by a large machine gun, and another rushed over and scavenged his gun and ammo. An accurate grenade lob caught the heavily armed Centurion, and detonated it, blowing it to scraps. Poet leapt over his cover, catching the other heavily armed Toaster by surprise, and as it tried to fire, he grabbed its arm, and forced it towards the tracker. The bullets mowed down a half dozen Toasters before catching the tracker, which was shredded apart. Poet pressed his pistol against the Toaster's head, and pulled the trigger, blowing it apart, sending him flying back. Another explosion came, and Poet was hit hard...he felt the shrapnel, he heard yelling, and he saw the Marines rushing up the hall...he heard more gunfire, and he heard a garbled communication from Vandercourt.

The ship shook, and people were scrambling around the CIC. "We have multiple hull breaches, and fires...Lieutenant Deloy, has the tracker been eliminated?" Another Basestar had entered the field of battle, and deployed another squadron of Raiders. "Alright, fellow Viper jockeys...we've just made a couple new friends. Stay in formation, and don't be a hero. I'm looking at you, River. Heard you babbling about streams and s**t in your sleep, Conoy...having a wet dream?" Laughter rang out over the squadron's communications, from many of the pilots, "Very funny, Eclipse...how about we just concentrate on blowing these frakking things out of the sky. Right, Captain Joaliss?"

≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎

[Leni Da SporK PiraTe]

[{ THE D e c e i v e r }]

►◄Roosevelt 'Beast' Finch►◄

xXx``~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``xXx

Finch felt something in the air of the room from the moment he came in. It had been there a long time from the feel of it. From his peripheral vision he caught some small motion that Cavil had made to the fresh pilot. The other pilot, himself, was a whole other world of out of place to his eye. In the trafficking business it took a keen eye to know when you have someone who is obviously un-comfortable or for any circumstance that may go wrong. He watched as the man moved swiftly, almost animalistic in nature, towards the CAG and followed her out into the hallway.
With a smirk he made a short track to the chair that Cavil had offered him and settled in with a fair amount of caution. The ambrosia that sat before him glittered the brilliant green that he had come to know in his child-hood as “demons-in-a-glass” via religious babble from his family. And yet, it beckoned to be consumed. His instinct was not to take the glass. The stems added to the fact that he hadn’t eaten or slept in quite some time it might have an adverse effect on him. Being a man who was rarely rude to strangers, and always up for a drink, his manners won out.
The ambrosia went down smooth, as always, but his lip twitched when it hit his tongue. He was always a beer man, considering that Virgon was known for its spectacular breweries. When he set the glass down, the conversation began almost immediately.
“Sharp salute, Lieutenant.”
The first words, to Roosevelt anyway, always set the town for how the conversation would go between two individuals. These were trenchant, but in the most deceptive way that they could be. This man was a snake in the tall grass and it was apparent immediately to Roosevelt’s trained perception. When the black clad priest began to pace, Beast knew the game was on. As Cavil began his steady accusation of suspicion, steeped in hear-say as well as thinly veiled in mutual understanding, Beast made sure to keep all his muscles relaxed. Tension was the red flag for someone who was guilty, and he certainly wasn’t guilty of anything he would care to admit. His face was the most likely thing to betray him.
“Hah.”
The scoff came out quickly, and almost immediately after the priest suggested a level of mutual secrecy. In his experience the men who said that phrase were most likely going to follow it up with black mail or an earnest favor. And there it was. The suggestion of keeping tabs on the other pilots was the easiest task on the list of horrible jobs he had begun to imagine in his head. As Cavil finished talking, it was quite obvious that he wanted Roosevelt to leave. He had begun to almost squirm, and his eyes began to flash to the bulk head. Expecting company?
“Slippery fish? Does that make you the King-fisher? Roosevelt didn’t wait for Cavil to respond. “And now, I think, this ‘big pond’ has begun to grow a bit smaller with our encounter. I’m not sure that you have anything on me. And I’m not willing to admit that there is anything to find. However, I like to play games; especially if the stakes are high. I play a little pyramid from time to time.
It was Beast’s hope that this encounter would leave Cavil with a very diminished idea of the person that he was dealing with. He had learned that when talking to an adversary the key is to speak little and when you do, make sure it makes them under estimate you. Comparing this situation to a card game was very naïve, and he felt confident that it would throw Cavil of his wit.
If he lost this game, he’d lose his life.
Just as Beast was about to say something more the conversation was cut short by the alarm. The familiar announcement about setting some sort of condition throughout the ship and what-not caused an immediate jolt of adrenaline through his body.
“Frak. Gotta run. Catch you later, darling.”
He threw Cavil a wink as he pounded down the hallway, his heavy footfalls crying his departure all the way to the hangar bay. He threw on the flight suit as fast as he possibly could, struggling to get his massive arms inside the sleeves at such high speeds. He threw the helmet shackle on his neck and threw himself into the bird, patting his call-sign on the hull as he jumped in.
As the G-force threw his head back into the head-rest, Beast let himself smile. This is where he felt alive. He quickly joined the ranks of the other pilots, spotting the new pilot, and taking not of his voice on the comm. He’d be one to watch for sure.
“Beast here. In the pocket, Five-by-five. Let’s be smart jocks.”
The force of the bird was something out of the ordinary for Beast. The ships he was used to piloting had some zip but these were fire-crackers. He hit a 9G turn as he threw his thumb down on the trigger, peppering a raider with his lead and causing its left wing to go up in flame. The raider wing quickly detached and sent the ship flying into another two raiders, causing a massive explosion. The instruments in this bird where much more complicated and Beast began to sweat. He was comfortable in a c**k-pit for sure, but this was miles away from ships he’d piloted. The danger drove him to excel. He fed on the adrenaline.
Roosevelt soon found himself flying head on into a raider. Chicken. This was going to be fast and it was going to be fun. Come on, you frakking toaster. C’mon. A by-stander may have thought Beast wanted to smash into the ship, but the two pulled away almost at the point of impact. Beast instantly flipped upside down and threw rounds toward the raider, scoring a hit on the raider.
“Where are we folks? We can’t hold out too much longer.

xXx```~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~```xXx

[Hell Mistress]

↱---------------------------------------------------------↠∘●

◦◦Persephone ‘Scholar’ Joaliss◦◦
Captain Reporting for duty....

Just call me Persy...

...or Scholar
●∘↞---------------------------------------------------------↵

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Scholar parted with Cavil, unsure how to classify that little ‘meeting’.
Quick, simple and sweet. And yet she was dreading another almost instantly.. maybe it was just from how easily she spoke to him. How she just let it all out. or maybe it was the awkward, almost eerie way he directed everything.. knowing all those details, all those rumors.. she wasn’t used to being questioned about such personal details like that.
But, it was probably just the stims. Making her over think and get paranoid of a simple, beneficial situation.
She got her fume off her chest, now she could focus more on what was ahead, instead of Poet. Poet.. hopefully he was doing alright.

Her hand shot up in a quick salute when the action arose. But her mind was elsewhere until she passed the man before her. She paused before the door and turned back.
The man, he was.. who was he again? Scholar squinted for a moment trying to match face to name, but realized that game would take her far too long. Too many pilots to remember ‘em all.. so she shrugged off the guessing and stepped through the door.

Almost instantly, she was greeted again. This time, in a startling sense as she felt her shoulders tense.

“Conoy...? Oh, yeah sure.” Scholar gave a half smile to the man, nodding his salute before following up to walk beside him. She hadn’t anywhere to be just yet.. so why not enjoy a bit of company? Company.. that didn’t want to rip her the frak apart. He surely didn’t seem hostile.

“And trust me, it’s not easy at all. I still wonder how I do it. Especially now.. who’d of guessed all this would happen so suddenly, huh? Cylon invasions.. I never thought I’d see the day. Also never thought I’d ever move up a rank, or two, or be anything more than a simple pilot.” She projected her thoughts in a soft mumbled before she sighed deeply.
“You’ll get used to it though. When it settles, everything will just open up for yo--“ And then she paused. Her pace even halting for a minute as she blinked. Then again. Staring at the man before her as if he just insulted her.

“B-Beacon of--?” Now that she thought about it.. she wasn’t used to flattery. Compliments, flirting, even if it sounded awkward from the man’s mouth, it managed to coat her cheeks pink. Or maybe it was the Ambrosia mixed with the stims and lack of sleep, and food, and--no. No she liked the unusual compliment.. since Poet seemed so lacking of them.
Poet. Poet... no! Stop thinking of him!

“YES-He is. A royal pain in my frakkin' side..He’s terrible social company but he does his job. And, don’t listen to rumors.. a few girls are just getting jealous I get to sucker his pretty face more then them. I know his type much better, ya see.” Scholar said with a grin and continued forward. It was nice. Was it? Having a casual talk and pace with a man without worry of liking him too much. Hell, she was belittling what she felt for Poet openly.. but she didn’t mind. Something just felt right talking to Conoy.. he just felt different.

“Haha!” She walked through the door and spun around. Wobbling softly before stabilizing herself and facing her company. Uniform tidy and pressed, clean and unwrinkled.. his face smiling without an inch of deprivation. He must be a miracle to look like that, while she, well, looked ten times worse at this point.

“Don’t go hitting on your Superior’s, Conoy. VERY bad habit to start.” She said, turning back to see where she was walking.
“..but I appreciate the offer. Lords know I could use the change of company--Eclipse, Praise and Poet aren't the most sensitive of pals. So.. maybe I’ll take you up on that. I do tend to ramble though. Even without the OD of stims.. just keep that in mind and we’ll be good. I’ll turn you into a great Pilot, just you wait.”
Scholar gave a wink to her company before they were quickly torn apart.


---

Action stations. They were back.

---

It didn’t take much to drag her sluggish self quickly to her home: Her cockpit. She climbed in, got herself comfy, and a moment later was witness to the fight. Two, three base stars in the far distance, and raiders were coming in like seagulls to the bait. She bit her lip and steered herself with the rest. Feeling her fingers tremble as they gripped the wheel tightly, and feeling her vision start to blur.. This was going to be the longest few minutes of her life.

“Better hurry up with destroying that frakkin’ tracker, guys..” She grumbled, steering sharply from a derailed Raider, watching as ahead 'Beast' was starting to engage another Raider. Playing it awfully close as her eyes widened.. before she felt the rumble of her own vulnerability, and spun herself around to greet her own assault.
A torrent of lead later, that Raider was a heap of scrap.

"How about we focus more on defending our nest instead of River's nighttime fantasies? Plenty of time for that after when we're all rested, relaxing and celebrating in our lack of chrome problems. Sound good? I think so! Now let's fry us some toasters!"
She could feel her throat struggling not to choke. It was raw. It hurt.. no thanks to the ambrosia she was sure. All the same, she kept at it. As soon as a Raider came into sight, she'd shoot. Unfortunately, her mentality wasn't working best at multitasking, and while she was doing a bang-up job shooting some lead.. she was in turn getting pelted. It took until a red alert on her DRADIS confirmed her hit. Right to her side. A small crack in her windshield punctuating it as it started to expand.

"Oh.. frak me." Her eyes watched as the crack continued to work it's way along the glass. But it didn't stay in her attention. Another raider quickly came up in view, and she had to snake herself to face it. Another shot of firepower, and another exchanged. The Raider was easily toast, but it succeeded to shoot and hit her a few more times. The flickering red was starting to make her feel epileptic.

"Okay..losing my patience.. ANY TIME NOW GUYS." She called out, hoping it wouldn't take much longer to eliminate the tracker and return.. her Viper for one not able to take much more.

|| GAAAAAHHHH. I WRITE TOO MUCHHHH ||

---------------------------------------------------------

[Lysander the Poet]

【 ℒｉｅｕｔｅｎａｎｔ 】

►ʟʏsᴀɴᴅᴇʀ 'Poet' ᴅᴇʟᴏʏ◄

≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎

The loss of sound...that was the first thing Poet noticed. Absolute silence among the entire ship haunted his mind for a few moments, before everything started crashing back into his senses. His arm was in a monumental amount of pain, and he forced himself up, his head pounding. "Lieutenant? Lieutenant! Has the tracker been eliminated? Our Viper squadrons are out there with the Cylons, and it's not looking pretty." The ship jumped to the left, and threw Poet off his feet, and smashed his leg into a large chunk of wreckage. Pain seared through it, and he stumbled back onto his working leg, barely able to stand. Struggling to walk, he staggered towards the exit of the Hangar Bay, a few more garbled transmissions coming through, the sound of gunshots echoing from far off places. "Yeah, tracker is dust...but Vandercourt and her men are still under fire. My squad tried to escape...I think some of the Toasters are trying to get further into the ship. Get our birds back in, and let's get the frak out of here. I'll see if I can deal with these chrome bastards."

"All Vipers, this is Mycenae, come on home. Tracker has been destroyed." The CIC was full of all the usual activity. Senior Officers debating tactics, junior officers either rushing back and forth delivering second-by-second reports, or working diligently at their stations, while monitoring the combat situation from the corner of their eye. All of them were worried...you could feel that worry all across the ship. The people were its life and soul after all. The Viper squadrons were reforming pulling their way back into the ship. "Boys, girls, River...let's go ahead, and stick us a couple combat landings. These last few days have been frakkin' rough, but we've got a couple games of Triad, a few bottles of booze, and a bit of rack time waiting for us once we slide into home." The same old landing procedures they'd done a million times. Flight pod began to retract, the door was sliding closed. The Vipers shot in, one by one, like a majestic flock of birds. The Raiders were pressing on, being shredded apart by the Mycenae's guns. They began to break off, but one of them, a Heavy Raider, was rushing towards the Battlestar at full speed.

"Radiological Alarm! Heavy Raider incoming, carrying nuclear armaments! Make the sure Hermes and the Helios have the current jump coordinates...and let's get the frak out of here..." The Heavy Raider was continuing on its course, and a swarm of other Raiders burst into view, to cover it from the Battlestar's onslaught. The last Viper slid into the Port Hangar Bay, and everyone held their breath. Collision in 10 seconds...all stations go for FTL jump...The ship shook so violently, that for a moment, everyone thought that the end had come, and sent out their prayers to the Gods, before the flaming embrace of a nuclear explosion took them. But there was no explosion, no death...the ships had successfully jumped away. The tracking beacon was destroyed, and they were safe...for now.

~

Back on the Starboard side of the ship, the Marines led by Vandercourt were having a little less luck. "Seal that door! NOW!" A pair of Marines rushed to the door and closed it, and locked it. Guns fired, bullets bouncing off the hard metal, followed by silence, then a few large clicks, and an explosion, ripping the door off its hinges, and crushing one of the Marines against the bulkhead. His blood splattered, splashing onto Vandercourt's uniform as she raised her rifle, and pulled the trigger, firing blindly through the smoke. "Corporal Forrester! You and the others get out of here, I'll hold them off!" The Corporal raised his pistol and pulled the trigger, and the explosive round caught the Centurion right in the eye, blowing its head apart. Another pull of the trigger, and another Centurion became scrap parts. He merely grinned, "With all due respect...no m'am.""

Gunnery Sergeant Corell Vandercourt felt anger welling up inside of her, but she directed it towards the oncoming Centurions, instead of at the insubordinate Corporal, and the other Marines who chose to stand and fight. The easily mowed through the Toasters, who were being funneled through the door, like sheep to the slaughter. Eventually they stopped coming, and Vandercourt let out a sigh of relief, "This is Gunnery Sergeant Vandercourt...all hostiles have been eliminated on my end. En route back to the CIC...Poet, status report?" After they had split, she had hard almost nothing from Poet, and tried to contact him several times. He assumed he wasn't dead yet, since she had felt the ship jump, which meant the tracker had been destroyed, though that radiological alarm hadn't really gotten her hopes up. The ship was still in condition one, which meant there were still possibly Cylons aboard, but all she could do now was get her people back to safety. "Corporal Forrester...I should have you taken to the brig for insubordination...but you can just let me get you a drink. Then we're even...got it?"

~

Lysander Deloy struggled along a long corridor...he barely recognized it as one of the many passages of the Mycenae. What he thought was an explosion, but was merely the ship jumping, rang out, rocking the entire ship, and throwing him into a wall, smashing the side of his face into a large valve. He felt his nose break as he smashed into the hard, cold metal, and felt blood running down his face. Regaining his footing, he began to limp along faster. He couldn't feel his right arm, and in his left hand he clutched a pistol, gingerly. Shrapnel was sticking out of his hand at odd angles, and it hurt to hold the gun any tighter. Another explosion rang out, shaking the ship a little less violently than before. A sound, familiar to Poet's ears, followed the explosion; the clanking of Centurion limbs. A single Toaster came into view, and raising his arm as quick as possible, he pulled the trigger of his pistol. Being right handed, shooting with his left hand was quite challenging. Still, all the weapons training he went through managed to plant the bullet right in the Toaster's 'eye', blowing its head apart.

"This is Gunnery Sergeant Vandercourt...all hostiles have been eliminated on my end. En route back to the CIC...Poet, status report?" The message was barely intelligible by the injured pilot, as he only made out a few words. Dragging his injured leg, he continued on, his trigger finger itchy, his eye twitching. He heard screams, and looked to his right, and watched as a group of Centurions and Marines were engaged in a firefight. The Marines were mowed down with ease, and turned to Poet, who forced his arm to reach for his last grenade, which he rolled into the room, and rushed to the side, as it exploded, destroying the Centurions. One of the Marines crawled out, most of his flesh burned off. He reached up towards Poet, and suddenly his blue eyes flickered, and shut, as life left him. It felt as if he were walking for ages, but he saw a familiar doorway...the entrance to the Starboard Hangar bay. A trail of blood behind him, and nothing but bright lights and hushed voices before him, he dragged his way to the CIC, and barely made it through the doorway, before collapsing.

A Week Later ::

Poet had been unconscious in the Sick Bay for seven days. His nose shattered, it took them a couple of hours to remove all the shrapnel from his arm, and he had a couple minor fractures in his leg, as well as a minor concussion. He was all in all, in pretty bad shape. The state of the ship wasn't much better. Supplies were rationed in such small portions, that most of the crew was starving, and going crazy. The Pilots played round after round of Triad, trying to distract themselves, and drinking whatever sort of piss the Knuckle draggers could brew up. The only good thing was the amount of rest everyone got, and the fact that the ship was fully fueled, thanks to the mining and refinery vessels. Now the problem was food...water recycling and purification systems had been working optimally, so that wasn't an issue either. Ammunition was also running low, and even though they were well rested, the men and women of the Mycenae had nowhere to go, and had no idea what to do next.

Conoy had taken to spending as much time around Scholar as possible, trying to get to know her better, sharing his odd theories about the Gods, and some nonsense about what if their was a single God, instead of multiple. He also continually tried to speak with Eclipse, but every moment of the day, she was either flying CAP, sleeping, visiting Poet in the Med Bay, or working out. This made it hard to get Cavil's other plan into motion. Cavil continued his evaluations of the crew, using it as an excuse to pry into their personal lives, find where their weaknesses were, where their loyalties were...and it was almost time for the next step.

"Sir, we got a signal coming in...unknown transponder, but the message is interesting." Commander Antov stood across from the communications specialist, and nodded, indicating for him to patch the message, whatever it was, through. "If anyone can hear this, please respond on this channel. This is a looping transmission, from Olympus Station. We have food, shelter, and all the comforts of life. Please, any survivors, respond to this message. We are safe from the Cylons." The others in the CIC all stood, shocked, as the message continued to repeat a few times.

"Shelter? Food? Sir, I don't know if we can pass this up? And the whole ship just heard that message. What are we going to do?" Antov crossed his arms, and his face seemed to become hardened, like stone, as he thought deeply. "I want an XO, and whoever the frak you choose, send them, and the CAG, to my quarters, along with Brother Cavil, and Lieutenant Deloy. We're going to have to talk about this...you will not reply, and we will not approach, until you hear word from me. Make sure the Helios and the Hermes know of our deliberations, and ensure they do not disobey those orders." With that, the Commanding Officer left the CIC, and the others carried their messages to the required personnel.

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