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Fan Fiction

Battlestar by Ryan Enage

Battlestar: Prologue
Date: 7 November 2005, 11:40 pm


In the remains of the Inner Colonies, the Hawkinson system barely gets by. Thirty years into a war with the Covenant, an alliance of alien races bent on the destruction of humanity, there is billions of dead on both sides, and yet the Covenant keep coming, wiping out system after system methodically. Man is nearing its end. The first cruiser ever built by human hands, the best warship man ever built, the 'Battlestar' Galactica, the 50-year-old pride of the fleet, was being decommissioned and turned into a museum before the Covenant holocaust. Its commander, William Adama, faced retirement. The ship and its crew now took refuge in the Hawkinson system's capital planet, Hawke.

But the relative peace of the Hawkinson system is soon to be destroyed, as the Covenant launch a surprise attack and obliterate Hawke and the rest of the survivors. Their last world in flames, Adama and the crew of the Galactica must give up the fight and escape the pursuing Covenant with what's left of humanity in the colonies -- a ragtag fleet of some 60 ships, who set out on a quest across the stars to find the contraversial, last safe human planet; their homeworld, called Earth.

UNSC cruiser Galactica, Hawke colony, Hawkinson system

"Evasive manuvers!"

The ship began to shift inexorably despite the strong inertial dampners placed throughout the ship. The 'Battlestar' evaded the plasma torpedos sent their way by the trailing Covenant destroyer, but their actions only achieved another half dozen stalkers, firing plasma just as deadly.

"Ready all Archer missile pods, arm defensive cannons as needed, and get our fighters and nukes on standby. And Lieutenant Gaeta," Commander Adama still trailed on as he barked out orders, "Continue evasive manuvers as needed."

"Yes, sir," The CIC bridge crew responded in unison. Lieutenant Gaeta began barking the same orders through the general COM. Adama nodded and could only stare at the chasing purple devils behind them.

"We can keep this up," Colonel Tigh said, joining his side at the tactical board. "We can keep this up and keep them at bay long enough to get the rest of the fleet out of here."

"Fleet? Some 60 ships of civilians, pirates, and crazy press corps?" They still both laughed at that, despite the dire situation. "Don't worry, Bill," Tigh said, and Adama duly noted he called him his old nickname Bill again, while his real first name was William, "They'll follow us all the way to hell while the corps write the story."

Follow us to hell indeed, you bastards, he thought with a grim smile.

"Rest when you die, you dogs! Move it, double time!"

Captain Lee Adama, Commander Air Group, callsign Apollo, yelled at his men to rush into their Longsword fighters. They jumped down their ladders, ran up their loading docks. He also noticed the three HAVOK tac nukes were being loaded into the firing bays. He's gonna play it safe, Lee thought. Let's just hope he dosn't play it too safe.

"Lee, come on yourself!"

It was Starbuck - her call sign, anyway. Only her friends and wingmen (or women, she often pointed out) could call her that, and he qualified, or so he hoped. Lieutenant Kara Thrace didn't suffer fools, and he didn't wanna be in her range while she started the punching.

"Gotcha, Starbuck," he said, climbing down the stairs and running alongside her to their Longswords. Some of the Longswords were already launching in the bays.

"Good hunting," he said to Starbuck as they went their seperate ways. He saw Chief Petty Officer Galen Tyrol, standing next to his Longsword, waiting for him to get on. "Chief," he said, smiling to him. "Is my bird ready here?"

"Ready as ever, 'Apollo,'" Tyrol joked with his callsign. "Good luck out there, eh?"

"Eh," he said back, shrugging as he ran up his Longsword's flight bay.

"Crazy pilots," Tyrol said, shaking his head as Lee's Longsword closed and Tyrol had to wave the rest of them off.

"Shit! Shit!"

He banged on his Pelican's data board. "You frakking alien toasters! Go the frak away!"

Lieutenant Karl C. Agathon, callsign Helo, was furious. The central data board showed Covenant dropships everywhere, but no sign for the civilians they were sent to evac. "This is getting hot, Sharon!"

Lieutenant Sharon Valeri, callsign Boomer, was piloting, hovering around the area. "I don't see them, Helo, but give them a few more minutes."

"A few more centons and we're toaster dust! Come on, Sharon -"

"I see them, over there!"

Suddenly, out of the trees and bush, they came. Running out for their lives torward the hovering Pelican. "Setting down and opening bay doors," Sharon said as the dropship set down.

"I got it," Agathon said as he grabbed his pistol for security. He walked down to greet the civis and shove them in as fast and as nicely as possible.

There were a dozen of them. Bloody, soot-filled civilians. He waved them in as best he could. "Get in!" He yelled, trying to compete with the Pelican's engines. But surely their shell-shocked heads heard as they ran like hell torwards the angel.

Then an alarm droned. "Helo, Covies are inbound!" She yelled, shrilling. "Come on!" He tried to yell louder to the civilians.

They ran on board just as the dropship came, spouting plasma. One of the civilians, a woman, was hit straight in the chest holding on to her son, maybe 7 years old. "Get him in here!" He yelled to one of the men running on board. He nodded, grabbing the child quickly onto the dropship.

"Go, go, go, Sharon!" He yelled into the cockpit. She nodded, and she thumbed the stick as the Pelican lifted off, took some plasma hits, and bursted torwards the atmosphere. "We've gotta hurry, the Galactica's almost jumping," she warned him.

Karl nodded, surveying the rescued civilians. There were thirty on the report, he mused grimly. Now 11 civilians Adama's gonna have to explain to. No small surprise. He walked into the cockpit with a heavy heart and radioed the cruiser, the 'Battlestar.'