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You stare down at the corpse of your commander. Her body is sprawled out across the CIC plotting table, half of her face torn off by Centurion AP shells. It pools across the surface of the table, dripping off the sides. The smell of burning electronics, cordite and blood is overwhelming. A slight haze has filled the room, making worse a dimness caused by the red alert lights, half of which were no longer functioning. Most of the consoles are shattered, rendered inoperable by Centurion fire.
Stepping over the body of the last Centurion and down into the 'pit', you make your way closer to the plotting table. The room is strewn with the carcasses of the bridge crew, the deck plating slick with their fluids. 4 Centurions had stormed the CIC guns blazing, pockmarked and flame scarred but very effective, seconds before they'd jumped from the Killzone. You can still hear what might be gunfire over the sounds of boarding klaxons, but you can't tell.
You set your service pistol next to the commander's corpse and take a breath. And another. And another. The Dradis console above your head comes to life, the displays sweeping lines slowly revealing what was left of the Task Force.

Nora is alone in the CIC. Last status update was reports of Centurions wreaking havoc in the remaining flightpod, and another section moving into engineering before the CIC itself was attacked.
>Broadcast for assistance at the CIC and check for any living amongst the dead bridge crew
>Check the surviving consoles for Damage Control and Structual information on the status of the Sabazios
>Write In

Disclaimer: I am a brand new QM. Don't expect much.

>>4601897
>Check the surviving consoles for Damage Control and Structual information on the status of the Sabazios

>>4601897
>Broadcast for assistance at the CIC and check for any living amongst the dead bridge crew

>>4601897
>Broadcast for assistance at the CIC and check for any living amongst the dead bridge crew

>Broadcast for assistance at the CIC and check for any living amongst the dead bridge crew

>>4601922
>>4601913
>>4601944
>Broadcast for assistance at the CIC and check for any living amongst the dead bridge crew

Set. Writing.>>4601944

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You pick up the radiophone and with a press of a button, open a ship-wide channel. Your voice sounds strained, and you stumble over your words before getting it out.

“All hands, this is the...this is the Tactical Officer. Assistance requested at the CIC. All available medical personnel, make your way to the CIC. At best possible speed.” You rack the phone and turn the commander.

Her blood continues to pool across the CIC table, a large portion of her head nothing but a pink mash. You deduct that she is truly dead.

Turning away from her, you kneel next to the closest body, that of the XO. he looks unharmed, besides the presence of a small hole in his uniform in the center of his chest. His lips and face are blue, and when you bend down to press your ear against his chest, you hear nothing.

The sound of footsteps from outside of the bulkhead door makes you life your head, and you reach out for your weapon just as a pair of medics, accompanied by another pair of marines, rush in, alongside a medical officer. They all stop the moment the carnage is fully visible.

One of the medics swears under their breath before immediately starting on the closest body to the door, the other following shortly after. One of the marines immediately backtracks out of the room, calling for others while the officer turns to you, a look somewhere between panic and anger painted over his face.

“What the frak was that back there? How did they get so far into the ship!?” He looks around, face settling into a frown “Is *all* of the command crew dead?”

>”I have no fracking idea. It was a trap, or maybe we triggered some sort of QRF. We got a good kick in the teeth, that should be obvious. What’s happening with the rest of the ship? There’s no one to give out status reports, and I’m not sure if the intercom is totally functional.”

>”Maybe you should fracking help them and stop flapping your mouth at me Gods dammit! I think the XO can still be saved.”

>Write in

>>4602002
>I don't know, and it doesn't matter right now. Here, I think the XO can still be saved

>>4602002
>”I have no fracking idea. It was a trap, or maybe we triggered some sort of QRF. We got a good kick in the teeth, that should be obvious. What’s happening with the rest of the ship? There’s no one to give out status reports, and I’m not sure if the intercom is totally functional.”

>>4602002
>”Maybe you should fracking help them and stop flapping your mouth at me Gods dammit! I think the XO can still be saved.”


"Our top priority has to be getting the ship operation, those fraking toasters might not be done with us."

>>4602005
+1

>>4602005
>>4602051
Set. Writing.

You can swear on blue boards you know

>>4602094
Battlestar Galactica has always said frak instead of fuck
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frak_(expletive)

>>4602094
Sure I can. But the character in BSG don't actually swear.

“I don’t know and I don’t think that really matters right now. Here, I think the XO can still be saved.”

Ignoring the bodies and the still smoking wrecks of the Centurions, he makes his way to and takes a knee next to the bridge officer, immediately checking for a pulse. You stand over him for a moment before a trilling sound catches your attention. You turn to look, spying that it’s coming from the communications station, riddled with holes but somehow still functioning. Turning towards the radio-phone again, you lift it in hesitantly press what you think might be the correct button.

“Battlestar Sabazios.”

“Battlestar Sabazios, this is the Destroyer Totale. We’ve been hailing for the past minute and a half. Status? You’re drifting on our screens.”


“Status is...unknown. We’re currently in the process of repelling boarders and our...most of our bridge have been incapicitated Command and Control capabilities have been severely reduced. Maintain last standing orders.” A hand on your arm stops you and you turn back towards the medic. “Wait one Totale.”

“He’s dead. Bullet tore through his diaphragm and his spine. And so are most of the others.” He nods his head toward the medics and you see one slowly picking through the bodies, bending down and straightening over and over, the other frantically working over the choking body of what might’ve been the CoV. You turn back to the officer and he’s looking back with an expectant expression. “I think you’re the senior most ranking bridge officer, ma’am.”

You blank.

>”Pardon? I graduated from the Cadet Council 3 months ago! Isn’t the CMO or the CAG higher ranking than I am?”

>”Right.” You press the radio-phone to your ear. “Totale, this is Junior Lieutenant Nora Corbulo. I’ve assumed temporary command over the Battlestar Sabazios. Please disseminate that information to the rest of the taskforce.”

>Write in

>>4602125

>”Right.” You press the radio-phone to your ear. “Totale, this is Junior Lieutenant Nora Corbulo. I’ve assumed temporary command over the Battlestar Sabazios. Please disseminate that information to the rest of the taskforce.”

>>4602125
>>”Right.” You press the radio-phone to your ear. “Totale, this is Junior Lieutenant Nora Corbulo. I’ve assumed temporary command over the Battlestar Sabazios. Please disseminate that information to the rest of the taskforce.”

>>4602125
>”Right.” You press the radio-phone to your ear. “Totale, this is Junior Lieutenant Nora Corbulo. I’ve assumed temporary command over the Battlestar Sabazios. Please disseminate that information to the rest of the taskforce.”

>”Right.” You press the radio-phone to your ear. “Totale, this is Junior Lieutenant Nora Corbulo. I’ve assumed temporary command over the Battlestar Sabazios. Please disseminate that information to the rest of the taskforce.”

No time for dithering on this. Someone has to assume command and it might as well be us for now.

>>4602129
>>4602144
>>4602156
>>4602157
Set. Writing.

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”Right.” You press the radio-phone to your ear. “Totale, this is Junior Lieutenant Nora Corbulo. I’ve assumed temporary command over the Battlestar Sabazios. Please disseminate that information to the rest of the taskforce.”

There’s a moment's pause at the other end of the line before confirmation comes through. “We read you Sabazios. Maintaining Condition 1.”

You set the phone down and turn to the medical officer, sifting through your mind for his name. “Lieutenant...Alders?”

“Ackers.”

“Right, Ackers. I need you to get these bodies and anyones who’s injured out of the CIC. I’ll call for additional assistance over the net. We need to get C2 back, and we can’t do that with-” You glance at the CIC. “Blood dripping off of our plotting tables. Understood?”

He nods and turns away, simply looking around at the amount of people needing to be moved out. You can see the wheel churning in his skull.


Glancing up at the Dradis display, you watch as the icon slowly being to move into screen positions around the Sabazios, alongside what seems to be a CAP launched from the Thallos. Slowly piecing back together from disaster.

You need at least 4 people to operate the CIC. Most officers went through a familiarization course during the Council, but some went through more in depth training based on future assignment. Viper pilots had the most intensive, but after what you’ve just gone through you have no idea how many you have remaining.

You could also simply take officers from other portions of the ship but their proficiency levels would be a great deal lower.

You’ll also need some sort of XO, a more experienced officer.There is really only one choice here: The CAG, Captain Achinos Reyes. But is he even alive?

Picking up the phone, you first request, via ship-wide, that the CAG report immediately to the CIC, and request the engineering MCPO, whose name you can not recall, up to the bridge with a in depth damage and status report. But comes the question of direct bridge crew.

>Take 4 from the Pilot ranks.

>Take 4 general officers from available positions across the Battlestar

>Take 4 random enlisted personnel from available positions. These will be the least proficient in operation the Bridge controls but you won’t be hurting for leadership elsewhere.

>Wait for the status report from the Chief of Engineering

>Ask Reyes when he arrives

>Write in

>>4602198
>>Take 4 general officers from available positions across the Battlestar

This seems like it will do the most good and least damage. A smoothly functioning ship will be worthless without a good brain.

>>4602198

>Take 4 general officers from available positions across the Battle-star

>>4602198
>>Take 4 general officers from available positions across the Battlestar

>>4602200
>>4602205
>>4602225
Actually I'll leave the vote for overnight and pop in an update tomorrow. Thanks for following.

>>4602198
>>Take 4 general officers from available positions across the Battlestar

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You call for 4 officers with at least preliminary experience with operating CIC systems, and the CAG.More medical personnel trickle into the room, slowly removing the bodies. Unfortunately it’ll take more time and resources to get rid of the blood and viscera from...everywhere, but that’ll have to wait for the moment. Your replacements stream in, fresh faced, wide eyed ensigns and lieutenants. Just like you.

Frack.

Moments later the CAG, followed by the Chief Engineer, arrive, looking at least slightly more experienced, the Engineers arm in a quick sling. They both take a significant look at both the blood that was still sitting stagnant on the plotting table-the commanders body had thankfully been one of the first removed-and the partially destroyed CIC, before suddenly settling eyes on you. You suddenly feel self conscious. They both make their way over and stand before you, eyeing you up.

The Captain speaks first.

“Didn’t totally expect to be taking commands from...an Ensign, but today has been full of terrible surprises.”

That was a statement. How in hell do you respond to that?

>”It’s Lieutenant, sir, Junior grade. It’s as per regulation. I’m not entirely pleased about it either.”

>”If you’d like command you can gladly take my place, Sir. I’m not entirely sure if I’m even qualified for this position.”

>”It is what it is. You’re my new XO for now. What’s the status of our flight wing? Can the remaining flight pod run operations right this moment?”

>Write in

>>4603335
>”It is what it is. You’re my new XO for now. What’s the status of our flight wing? Can the remaining flight pod run operations right this moment?”

>>4603335
>”It’s Lieutenant, sir, Junior grade. It’s as per regulation. I’m not entirely pleased about it either.”

>>4603335
>”It is what it is. You’re my new XO for now. What’s the status of our flight wing? Can the remaining flight pod run operations right this moment?”
Let's take charge and get right to business

>>4603361
>>4603336
Set. Writing.

>>4603335
>”It is what it is. You’re my new XO for now. What’s the status of our flight wing? Can the remaining flight pod run operations right this moment?”

”It is what it is. You’re my new XO for now. What’s the status of our flight wing? Can the remaining flight pod run operations right this moment?”

“Oh really. Well.” He pauses to think. “Before I came up here I took a very brief tally of pilots and vessels and it’s not optimal in the slightest. The radiological detonating in the port flight has literally eliminated half of our air wing, half of our deck crew, and a good portion of our deck crew. Combined with the fact that we abandoned almost all of our alert and ready Vipers, and that boarding action and...well, we’re down to 14 vipers and a raptor. Total. We might be able to get 1 or 2 more up and burning if we have the time but…well. Yeah.”

He leaves that off with a thin smile.

“I already have a squadron of Vipers sitting in the launch tubes, but the raiders are still sitting on the landing deck last I checked. We wouldn’t exactly need to clear them off for recovery, but it’ll definitely make it dangerous, especially if they’re forced to make a combat landing. And a crash out there could do some real damage. But that wouldn’t really be a problem if we just left our pilots behind again, would it.”


He turns towards the newly minted communications officer, who’s slowly picking over what’s left of the comms console.

“First orbit.” The officer's head pops up. “Contact the rest of the group and get a sitrep from each ship. Have it ready in transcript.”

You turn towards the CMPO, who already has a notepad in his slinged hand. His jumpsuit has Joeds stenciled on the collar.

“It looks bad, Ma’am, but isn’t as dire-well, it might be as dire as it looks, but we have a clean chance of getting out of here with the skin still on our backs. The port FP is a total loss, no chance of repair, can’t salvage much from it either. We lost a bit of tylium from ruptured lines but we contained that in minutes. The toasters that boarded also tried to make a dash for Engineering but they never even made it close. Guess they focused on the command center, huh?” He lets out a strained laugh. You stare at him.

“Uh...right so otherwise we’re not actually damaged. We can move, Fire Control is operational, most of our point defense, CWIS, and main KEW batteries are running optimally. A couple Cents got to the nuke storage but they were disable before they were able to do any real damage, so we still have...6? 7? We have our full stock. We can get away clean and still defend ourselves.”

CONT

The CA-XO walks up out of the corner of your eye, sheets of paper in hand. Getting away. You were lucky to get away with your lives last time, but the Tylium production facility-the staging area-was still untouched. You no longer have the element of surprise but you’re sure the Taskforce didn’t have it to begin with. And no longer do they.

>”Get away? Joeds, we still have to accomplish, and we can still execute. We’re going to finish this. The Kallallisis, Sarrotis, they’re not going to die for nothing.”

>”Right. This mission is over. If the other ships are ready and standing by for transit, we retreat immediately. Going back is suicide.

>Write in

>>4603404
>”Get away? Joeds, we still have to accomplish, and we can still execute. We’re going to finish this. The Kallallisis, Sarrotis, they’re not going to die for nothing.”

>”Right. This mission is over. If the other ships are ready and standing by for transit, we retreat immediately. Going back is suicide.

If the Toasters know we're coming, we're hosed. We lost our primary commander and tons of vipers. I don't want to press our luck. If we (an inexperienced rookie) lead the task force into hell then we're going to get roasted.

>>4603404
>>”Right. This mission is over. If the other ships are ready and standing by for transit, we retreat immediately. Going back is suicide.

>>4603404
>”Right. This mission is over. If the other ships are ready and standing by for transit, we retreat immediately. Going back is suicide.
The OP says we were outnumbered 4 to 1. I don't think going back is a great idea

Rolled 4, 2, 6 = 12 (3d6)

>>4603435
>>4603432
>>4603421
>>4603417
Set. Rolling for contact. above 4 is positive.

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”Right. This mission is over. If the other ships are ready and standing by for transit, we retreat immediately. Going back is suicide.”

They both nod, and the CAG speaks up. “Good fracking idea. Well, at least you aren-”

“Dradis contact! Two just dropped into range, CBDR...oh Gods, multiple parasites! One or both of them are launching raiders. Lieutenant?”

“How did they track us so quickly?” Joeds says, looking up at the Dradis display. “Our jumpdrive is cold, we’ve got at least 8 minutes before we can jump. Don’t know about everyone else.”

“Let’s turn and run then, opposite their bearing. They’re 30 kilometers away. Raiders wouldn’t be able to bear down on us until the timers up.”

“Problem with that Corbulo. Thallos took a conventional missile to one of her drive pods just before we jumped out.” Reyes holds up the sheets. “They’re working on a fix now but until then the moment we apply thrust she’ll start spinning like a top. At raiders max speed they’ll be on top of us in..3 minutes, more or less. Depending on whatever's launching the damn things, the capitals can be on us in between 6-12 minutes.”

>Write in a tactical order. If you need clarification on the capabilities of a specific ship, ask.

"Frack."

"Scramble Vipers to screen approach and buy some time. Have the escorts form a flak shield to either side to funnel the raiders straight at us. We'll nail them with our guns once they're in range. And tell Thallos to get her ass in gear or she's going to get left behind."

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>>4603485
Like dis

>>4603485
>>4603490
>>4603474
Support, I wasn't gonna come up with something better.

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>>4603485
>>4603490
>>4603503
Your orders are quickly executed on ship, a slight vibration reverberating through the decking as the Sabazios angling itself so that as many guns as possible face the enemy. A timer starts above your head-8:36:51. 8 and a half minutes until jump. Suddenly you’re struck by a terrible sense of deja vu, for an event that occurred less than an hour ago. The CAG looks up at the Dradis display, letting out a slow hiss of air.

“I wouldn’t recommend sending just one squadron to screen against th-oh, seems like the Thalloss CO agrees with me” He points as two additional Viper wings launch and race to form up with Red wing, which is already a good portion of the way towards the encroaching swarm of raiders.


More time is going to have to be spent recovering those…

“Let’s hope she gets her drives back online, for her pilots sake.”

The ships quickly move to get as many guns pointed toward the enemy as possible, the Thallos moving sluggish as it gets its guns on target. Minutes tick by as the fighters close the distance.

“Lieutenant, at the current rate of speed, Sierra 9 and 10 will take us in 5 minutes.”

You check the clock. 6:11:11.

Please roll 3d4, 2 times.

>thread theme
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JSl-KSmn4RI

Rolled 2, 2, 3 = 7 (3d4)

>>4603551

Rolled 4, 3, 3 = 10 (3d4)

>>4603551
We are fucking dead

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>>4603583
>>4603575
“He’s on my six! I can’t shake him!” came the panicked cry from his wingman, the rookies Viper desperately maneuvering to keep the Raider out of his killslot.

“BREAK YOU FRACKING NUGGET!” Flask hissed into comms as he dove down on the pair from, guns flashing and catching the Cylon right in the cockpit, forcing it spin away in a smokey spiral. “Embers, fall in with me now!” They’d been cut off from the main group early in the fight and were struggling to regroup.

“Copy, FlaAAAAAAAHHHH!” The Viper pilot screamed as another Raider screamed past, it’s guns ripping through the cockpit—tearing it and the pilot inside to shreds.

“Frack,” whispered Digger. “These odds aren’t good,”the sweat rolling off his nose as his cannons shook the Viper again and another explosion momentarily lit his cockpit. “Thallos, Flask—we can’t fracking hold here, there are to fracking many!.”

-----------------------
You listen at the sounds of combat chatter, patched to you from the Thallos-without a single word from her captain. The Vipers have been in contact for the past minute and already they’d lost 3, with more reporting damage. The main vessels-Sierra 9 and 10- hadn’t launched any other sort of ordinance or parasites, either implying that they were carrier gunships, or they were waiting to close the range. She hoped the former.

“They’re pushing through.” Reyes moved a piece across the plotting table, distance is closing. 3 kilometers. Permission to advise the group to open fire?”

You nod, utterly entranced by the Dradis display. It was strange, being frozen like this. Once you make a plan to stand and fight, there’s nothing else you can do but watch and pray to the Gods.

“Alcon, Alcon, Alcon. Open fire.”

The decking shuddered as every gun pointed in the right direction opened up, shells streaking though space and exploding half a kilometer off, a field of explosions and shrapnel creating a wall of projectiles between the Taskforce and quickly approaching swarm of raiders, most of which having largely disengaged from the viper squadrons and moving at best speed...right at the Sabazios.

Roll 1d18 3 times if you will.

So say we all.

Rolled 10 (1d18)

>>4603621

Rolled 12 (1d18)

>>4603623

Rolled 3 (1d18)

>>4603621

>>4603624
>>4603625
>>4603626
You grip the sides of the plotting table as the swarm speeds in, about half going for the chokepoint right down the middle, the rest pushing through the flack walls. You pick up the radio phone.

3:47:21

“KEW Batteries 1 through 4, focus fire on the cluster coming right through the center, flak shells, salvo fire.” You forget to drop it as the guns fire again, fire indicators stretching out towards the grouping. Hit, hit hit-expanding red balls are following the signature as it closes range, 1 kilometer, 750 meters, 500.

Then it drops off.

“Main cluster dispersed, 10 raiders within the flack walls, they’re closing on us, bypassing the Totale and Thallos, they’re covering us with their guns but they can’t do much without risking crossfire. Sierra’s are 2 minutes out.” The CAG picks up the phone but halts. “Corbulo, we have to launch our ready Vipers.”

“Lieutenant, I’m getting some odd...interference…” The Dradis operator leans forward and makes some adjustments.

“RADIOLOGICAL, ONE SIGNATURE.”

3:02:19

One of the raiders is carrying a nuke. Has to be. Gods, damn, why are they focusing on us!? You can either bet on CWIS being able to take down the nuke should it be launched-or the raider if they try to directly apply themselves onto your hull. Or you can launch the ready vipers and have something else to wait on when that jump timer hits zero. Alongside the risk of recovery…

>You’re a commander. Command.

>>4603652
might be the last post of the night right here.

>>4603652
We're committed to this fight. Launch the vipers and buckle down. Either we ride through this, or we go down fighting

>>4603652
Launch fighters.
Won't have any fighters left if it hits.

I'd say launch half but I don't think it would matter at that point.

>>4603652
Launch the fighters

>>4603652
>Rely on CIWS
If we launch those vipers there's a good chance we won't be able to recover them before we jump.

>>4603924
>>4603677
>>4603663
“Do it. Launch them, and tell them to act purely as close support.”

The three longitude launch tubes, unique to the class, fired a mere 3 MKII Vipers out into the black, quick sequence. You watch as their icons appear-and promptly vanish as they reverse direction and tear back towards the Sabazios. So close are they that the close in PD has to lower fire rates to ensure no accidental friendly fire.
“They’re closing hard, 500 meters! Wait...multiple warheads, multiple missiles launched, still only one radiological. Vipers are moving!”

The CAG lifts the transmitter to his mouth. “All hands, all hands, brace, brace.”

You lean over the plotting table. Damn that fracking Thallos.

Roll 1d6 for hit chance and 1d6 for hit location. 3 times.

Roll 4 or under.

Rolled 1, 5 = 6 (2d6)

>>4604342

Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d6)

>>4604342

Rolled 1 (1d6)

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4604440
frack. Forgot the 2nd one.

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>>4604442
>>4604440
>>4604356
>>4604345
The space around an angry battlestar is something to behold.

It’s akin to a hive of wasps. Literally hundreds of CWIS spooling up and spitting out 20 rounds of armor piercing tungsten tipped sabot rounds every second. The chance of survival for any approaching hostile object decreases exponentially as the range closes in. But that little computer inside doesn’t differentiate between targets besides what’s broadcasting Colonial transponders and what isn’t-and even that has to go through a separate authentication program. Making it smarter increased the chance of Cylon exploitation.

Each raider let loose 3 missiles, at the same time opening up with their guns, lighting up afterburners-a straight charge, cluttering up the near scale battlescape as soon as possible. Yellow flight was burning right back at them, each pilot trying their best to pinpoint the nuke amongst the mass-and to ignore the thousands of rounds flashing past their cockpits.

You can tell when the close in guns start up. You feel it in your teeth, in your skin. A buzz.

The missiles are getting too close. Yellow squadron lets it rip, firing on an area where they think the nuke may be. Moments later they zoom past and reverse bearing again, chasing with afterburners on.

The first missile hits, and you have time to register the lights flickering before the barrage really begins. Loaded for anti-ship evidently, the bombs first strip away the armor and begin pounding down on the structural plating. One of the officers screams out an alert about venting decks.

The clock is at 2:46:11 when it stops. You open your eyes, not even realizing that you’d closed them, and the CAG is looking dead at you, a smile spread across his face.

“Nothing like combat, Lieutenant.”

“Ma,am, both Sierra contacts are within 6 kilometers, they’re opening up with guns. Ah...Totale is moving out of position. They’re placing themselves in between us and the enemy.”

Communications raises his hand “Communique from Totale!”

You tell him to send it to the phone, and press it to your ear.

“Sabazios, Totale. I’m the least damaged, and we have the armor for the time remaining, I’m moving to take their fire.”

You glance at the clock.

2:16:11

>”Copy Totale, we’ll try to get some of our guns on target to assist.”

>”Negative, I repeat, Negative. No go, we stand and hold the position we’re in.”

>”Cover the Thallos, we’ll move to intercept them. I have a radiological ace in the hole.”

>Write in

>>4604547
>”Cover the Thallos, we’ll move to intercept them. I have a radiological ace in the hole.”

>>4604547
>”Cover the Thallos, we’ll move to intercept them. I have a radiological ace in the hole.”

>>4604547
>”Cover the Thallos, we’ll move to intercept them. I have a radiological ace in the hole.”

>>4604547
Maybe we shouldn't broadcast that last part for opsec?

>>4604570
You're a rookie I don't know what to say.

>”Cover the Thallos, we’ll move to intercept them. I have a radiological ace in the hole.”

Let's ventilate these toaters.

>>4604572
Then say nothing?
Or just redact the radiological part.

>>4604560
>>4604567
>>4604568
>>4604576
Set. Writing.

>>4604580
Even if it was being eavesdropped.
What would change. Reversing direction?
You want that
They focus on you?
They already are
I really don't see the issue my friend.

>>4604605
Worried those about them being able to pic up our comms, but I guess since everyone is close by we can just communicate directly with lasers.

>>4604605
No, just worried it diminish the effectiveness of our use of nukes or something.

>>4604617
>>4604615
I copy.

”Cover the Thallos, we’ll move to intercept them. I have a radiological ace in the hole.” You drop the phone. “Rotate 89 degrees, 53 carom, bow on the hostiles, drives 35%”

The operations officer blanches, and looks from you to the CAG. He turns to you.

“Our defense is the weakest bow on.”

“This isn’t a defensive action Captain.

He looks back at the operations officer with a blank look.

“A-aye, aye Ma,am, 89 degrees, 53 carom, bow on, 35 in thrust.”

“Load...2 Hades and...4 conventional torpedoes in the forward tubes. Set to 50 kilotons.”

The Sabazios shuddered as something struck her stern, hard. “Direct hit, head on, armor held.fast, range with Sierra 9 closing to 3 kilometers, they are NOT stopping. Same with Sierra 10, we’re getting positive hit’s on both. Bow is on.”

“Fire all 6 tubes, set both to detonate on direct impact. 3 per contact, nuke in each grouping.”

“Aye, aye, firing all tubes, impact setting.”


Sabazios bucked slightly as torpedoes lit their fuses and hurled themselves out of their tubes and at the contacts. They slashed through the counterfire, Cylon PD going wide as the Sabazios forward guns nailed dead on again and again.


Roll 6d6. First two are nuke hits. Over 3 is a positive.


(sorry for the pause, work came up.)

Rolled 4, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3 = 16 (6d6)

>>4604685

Rolled 6, 6, 5, 6, 2, 4 = 29 (6d6)

POWAAAAAA

>>4604716
BOTH nuke hits critical successes. Incredible.

>>4604721
The gods are with us.

1:06:39

Shrieker flinched as the first Cylon went out in a blinding shock of light, closely followed by the second. When she opened his eyes, they were both twirling in the sky, flame venting.She could see secondary explosions lighting up the hull.
“Sabazios to all pilots, 4 new Dradis contacts. You are authorized for combat landing, we are jumping in less than 60 seconds. Recover, or be left behind.”

Frack.

She pulled her fighter around and back towards the Valkyrie, trying her best to dodge what debris she could spot. Viper had gotten hit by a pretty bad spread of shrapnel, and alongside largely shattering the front panel in her canopy, her number one engine was dead, fuel lines cut or flooded or something-they were nonfunctional.

She checked the clock.

0:37:24

She punched her thrusters and made for the flight deck opening. Within, she could see the other two vipers, straddled as close to the hull walls as feasible. She couldn’t have had more than two viper widths of space. She said a silent prayer and hit the retros, skids down, trying to be as fast and as slow as possible.

30 seconds on the clock she slammed her skids down on deck, the sudden deceleration and magnetic attraction throwing her against the harness.

“Shrieker down!”
--------------------------
“All Vipers accounted for from Yellow squadron.” Comms scowled 4 pilots still unaccounted for from Thallos’s wings.”

“We’ll come back for them. They have 12 hours of O2 in their suits, we can send back S&R raptors.” Reyes picks up the radiophone. “All hands, all hands, prepare for jump in 3, 2,-”
---------------------------
Shrieker unbuckled her straps and hit the release on what was left of the canopy, the elevators inoperable or blocked from the Centurion incursion. There was an airlock a bit aways, she could see the other pilots making their way there.

And suddenly they were twisting in space, sparks coming off of the hull around them. Her head turned and tracked the two centurions making their way across the deck, weapons in hand flashing soundlessly in the vacuum.

Her service pistol was halfway out when they jumped.

last post of the night! Thank you guys for following.

>>4604789
Great stuff! Thanks for running

Where did those two come from?

>>4604900
Guess. Logically.

You were boarded. Like, maybe 15 minutes after the boarders went buhbye you were attacked. And the transports are just sitting there the entire time.

>>4604931
I don't know if they were from before the first ambush or the second attack, or they snuck on somewhere in between, or if they got on by clinging onto the vipers that returned.

File: EnCmRxjXcAMfbFA.jpg (184 KB, 2048x1253)

184 KB JPG

Continuing early tomorrow.

File: Bryson.jpg (20 KB, 150x150)

20 KB JPG

21317-7-11
00:27

Bryson tried his best to keep his hands from shaking.

His engines were powered down, so were most of his electronics, his dradis, everything apart from his communications system and his APU, so that in the chance that he was discovered he wouldn’t be totally defenceless. Off of both his reserve and his vipers O2 supply, he could float out here like this for about a day without worry. Well. Significant worry.

He could see wings of Cylon raiders fly past every now and again, all about 5 kilometers off. From here he could also see what looked like a flight pod from the Sarrotis, almost pristine, baring some scorch marks here and there.

His radio crackled.

“Bryson, Toid. The leaks stopped, I think…It was in cells 3-6 like I thought.”

“Copy. You know how much time you’ve got left?”

“If I had to guess...two minutes of continuous thrust.”

Bryson closed his eyes.

“Bryson...you think the Sabazios will come back around? For recovery? At least send a fracking raptor?”

His wingman was a nugget, by all accounts. This was supposed to be his first action against the cylons, despite being a pilot for the past 2 years. Toid’d gotten lucky by getting picked up as cadre at the academy immediately after he graduated, and it showed in those frantic moments after their ship-their home- had jumped away. Must have racked up 11 kills, even as everyone else was falling apart around them.

But he was still a nugget.

Bryson could hear the shiver in his voice.

“Bryson?”

“Lock it up Toid. Give it 5 more minutes. No one comes for us in that time, we’ll...we’ll work out something. We’ll get out of this.”

He didn’t believe that.

A minute passed before he noticed the wing turning and coming their way. 4 cylons, 4 kilometers out. Closing at a leisurely pace...they must’ve just changed their patrol pattern or...something. They couldn’t have gotten detected at that range.
Had they picked up their comms?

His radio squelched. Toid had seen them as well.

>Start spooling the APU. It’ll raise your thermal signature a bit, but incase of detection you’ll be able to start all systems almost instantaneously.

>Stay cooled down. They might. You’re cold enough that with all the disruption they wouldn’t be able to detect what little signature you’re giving off at even 5 meters...though they’d most certainly see you sitting in the cockpit.

>Write in

>Stay cooled down. They might. You’re cold enough that with all the disruption they wouldn’t be able to detect what little signature you’re giving off at even 5 meters...though they’d most certainly see you sitting in the cockpit.

This is time for big fracking balls. If we panic, we're dead. If they catch us . . . well we were dead anyway. Play it cool as ice.

>>4607954
>Stay cooled down. They might. You’re cold enough that with all the disruption they wouldn’t be able to detect what little signature you’re giving off at even 5 meters...though they’d most certainly see you sitting in the cockpit.

>>4607954
>Stay cooled down. They might. You’re cold enough that with all the disruption they wouldn’t be able to detect what little signature you’re giving off at even 5 meters...though they’d most certainly see you sitting in the cockpit.

>>4607963
>>4607969
>>4607970
Bryson watches as they came in, hands hovering over his APU controls. 15 seconds is all it’d take. 15 seconds to start up. 15 seconds to get blown all the way down to Hades.

“Gods, please, just give me a chance.”

3 kilometers out, they turned again, not drastically but enough that they'd pass by at about a kilometers range.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

Before one turned and made dead on for them.

He leaned forward, squinting. It was coming on, not in their general direction, but straight onto him. Toid might’ve looked knocked out, but his viper was relatively pristine.

Frack. Frack. Frack.

Rolling time fellas! 2d6!

Rolled 1, 1 = 2 (2d6)

>>4607991

Rolled 1, 3 = 4 (2d6)

>>4607991

Rolled 3, 2 = 5 (2d6)

Gods save us.

3 times btw, as per usual.

>>4607998
>>4607997
>>4607993
Set. Writing.

The rest of the wing of the wing turned in on them all at once, the distinctive flair of afterburners lighting each of them up like little torches.

“Toid, fracking punch it! They’ve got us fixed”

Bryson immediately flips the power hub and APU on, the Viper vibrating to life behind his head. His Dradis popped on, his cockpit lights, Christmas tree coming to life-thankfully all green. He glanced up for a moment and saw dual flashes coming from the lead Raider, still about a kilometer out.

His HUD popped up last, his engines warming up...he was pointedly aware of the rounds streaming past him.

Finally, that last greenlight lit up over his thrust display, and he hit the afterburners, flipping over and burning in the opposite direction.

“Thrust steady, Toid, Status.”

Silence.
“Toid?”

“APU isn’t spooling up Bryson. It’s not fracking starting.”

The Cylons were burning in, 800 meters. In between them were scattered bits of debris, asteroids, and above was the drifting flight pod of the Sarrotis. Toid was about 100 meters away, and he could see the battered, scarred viper turning over in space, RCS flashing as he turned the guns to face the enemy.

>”Toid, keep trying. I’ll do my best to hold them off.”

>”Stay dead then, I’ll get their attention and lead them away and try to circle back to you.”

>Flee

>Write in

>>4608031
>”Stay dead then, I’ll get their attention and lead them away and try to circle back to you.”

>>4608031
>>”Stay dead then, I’ll get their attention and lead them away and try to circle back to you.”

>>4608036
>>4608037
Gotta go for a moment. Consider this set, will be back in an hour or so.

>>4608071
Actually we'll be on hold for a bit longer than an hours. So sorry, unexpected work again.

>>4608031
>”Stay dead then, I’ll get their attention and lead them away and try to circle back to you.”

>>4608111
qm kill?

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>4611135

“Stay dead then, I’ll get their attention and lead them away, try to circle back to you.”

Bryson took in a deep breath and spun back, flicking the safeties off of his cannons. He had to completely and decisively draw their attention away, with only-he glanced towards the indicators-600 some rounds to defend himself with.

He dove on the lead raider, the thing turning up to face him. They were large, sluggish, fat fracking targets. But they were armored to hades and faster than one would think. He leaned forward, putting his reticle right over one of it’s engine pods, before letting off a short burst and peeling away.

Roll 1d6 ONCE please.

>>4611137
I'll take that.

The shots went wide, but the Cylon still swung away, it’s own rounds going far off to the right. Bryson didn’t spare it a glance as he went past, his throttle still wide open as the other 3 converged on him. He turned on one, fired a longer burst, and broke off, turning his nose up towards the flight pod, he didn’t care for hits, but he did care for attention. Tweaking the RCS, the viper skewed to the left, still flying on it’s same trajectory. He turned his head and saw all four of the raiders rushing at him.

Fantastic. Time for fancy flying.

Twisting the nose back on trajectory, he glanced at his tylium reserves. Half an hour's worth. It’d have to be enough.

Engines flaring, he climbed towards the flight pod and the asteroids beyond. He had to lose them before they could call in more ships to intercept, if they would dedicate more for a single puny human fighter.

Banking around the flightpod, he could just catch a glimpse of the winging coming up at him before it was obscured by the scarred hull plating. He watched it soar past his field of view, wondering how many dead sailors were in it...and what to do next.

>Continue to evade. Make your way towards the asteroid field and attempt to lose them there.

>Wait for them to come around and catch them close. Try to take out one or two, try to even the odds.

>Write in

>>4611160

>Continue to evade. Make your way towards the asteroid field and attempt to lose them there.

>>4611160
>Continue to evade. Make your way towards the asteroid field and attempt to lose them there.

>>4611160
>>Continue to evade. Make your way towards the asteroid field and attempt to lose them there.

>>4611160
>Continue to evade. Make your way towards the asteroid field and attempt to lose them there.

>>4611186
>>4611486
>>4611521
>>4611600
Set. Writing.

300 meters of space between him and the asteroids. Bryson could cross that space in 2 seconds, but would they be on him faster than that? He had slowed, while they had only accelerated, and while he was quicker in the opening seconds, they were faster over all.

This all flashed through his head in a few seconds as he thrusted away from the wreck, the back of his neck tingling, that odd feeling where you’re anticipating a hit that might come now, might come later. What he wouldn’t do for some mirrors.

Rounds flashed by, burst after burst, menacingly silent. One bullet was good enough to end him.

100 meters, and he could fracking FEEL them bearing down. He white knuckled the flight stick.

>One second. One second is all I need. Bear on, don’t flinch. A movement, and they’ll all be on me, with nothing to hide behind, nothing to maneuver around.

>Jink, turn, bank-they have me in their sights. Someones in my fracking killslot.

>Write in

Regardless of choice, roll 1d6 3 times.

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>4611652
>Jink, turn, bank-they have me in their sights. Someones in my fracking killslot.

>>4611653
Set. Writing.

Sharply pulling back, he peeled up and hit the retros, the g forces forcing the breath out of him as his velocity dropped. 1, 2, 3 raiders tore past, before Bryson felt the rounds slamming into him. He spun over and down, his head up and searching, straining against his harness. A raider was on him, the other 3 peeling around and coming back at him.

His radio crackled, a half understood word coming through.

>Run for the asteroids again, they’re disorganized for this second. It’s right there, within reach.

>Turn and kick this chrome bastard in his fracking teeth.

>Write in.

Regardless of choice, roll 1d6 3 times.

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>Turn and kick this chrome bastard in his fracking teeth.

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>4611710
>Turn and kick this chrome bastard in his fracking teeth.
Can't keep running forever, our fuel is limited. Besides, our bud might be coming soon

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>4611710
>>Turn and kick this chrome bastard in his fracking teeth.

>>4611758
>>4611720
>>4611712
Set. Writing.

Something creaked as he pivoted, a light on his dash blinking red. The Raider opened up just as he went lateral, veering off to the side as the thing got closer and closer. He squeezed off a 10 second burst right into it, rounds flashing into it and out the other side as it careened away, engines flickering into stillness.

One down.

“Hey A.. S..p causing-”

A voice. Definitely human. Close by if the radiation wasn’t blocking their comms that badly.

They were closing in. Was someone else coming to help?

>Quit with the running. Hit them and hard dart, stay out of reach. Somones coming. And if not? You didn’t have much of a chance to begin with.

>Even if someone was coming, every cylon in the neighborhood had to know what was happening. He had to go, fast, before it was too late.

>Write in.

>>4611775
>Quit with the running. Hit them and hard dart, stay out of reach. Somones coming. And if not? You didn’t have much of a chance to begin with.

>>4611775
>>Quit with the running. Hit them and hard dart, stay out of reach. Somones coming. And if not? You didn’t have much of a chance to begin with

Lords of Kobol hear my prayer. Let's get through this one alive.

>>4611781
>>4611780
Roll 2d6, twice please.

Rolled 2, 5 = 7 (2d6)

>>4611784

Rolled 3, 1 = 4 (2d6)

>>4611784

>>4611786
>>4611789
Set, writing.

They were twisting in, almost all at once. No way he could just go in and engage them without getting pincered with accurate fire. They weren’t even firing anymore-maybe afraid to waste ammunition now that he wasn’t fleeing? He gave one of them a short burst and coiled up, hoping to slide over and behind.

Undeterred by the burst they all turned to follow him, their noses slowly lagging back as he got closer and closer and-

Alarms screamed in his ears as something burst to Brysons right, his head slamming forwards as something sent him into a violent corkscrew, orange light splashing across the dash. Bryson could feel the Gs pulling at him as he lifted his head, looking out to see flames spurting out just forward of his starboard thruster. Something screamed at him to eject, but another voice interjected.

There’s no one out there to pick you up.

He flicked off that thrusters power, turned off fuel feed and pressed the emergency fire extinguisher, trying his best to keep his breathing under control as his Viper spun over again and again, the Gs willing his body against the side of his cockpit. Looking up out of the canopy, the Raiders were impossible to spot in the blurry whirl of the stars, the asteroids, debris.


Turning his head back towards the burning engine, he watched as the flames slowly dissipated away, and he tried to counteract the spin by triggering his RCS, the pressure on his chest lightening as the revolutions slowed.


He looked all around, but as he stabilized, there was no sign of the Raiders. No rounds, nothing. He turned.

6 vipers were twirling around in space, burst after burst slamming into the remaining Raiders.

“Viper 8757NC, please re...nd.”

>”Holy Fracking Shit. Where the hell did you guys come from?”

>”This is Bryson. I’ve taken severe damage, combat capacity reduced. You guys don’t happen to have a spare Viper, do you?


>Write in

>>4611819
>>”Holy Fracking Shit. Where the hell did you guys come from?

>>4611819
>”This is Bryson. I’ve taken severe damage, combat capacity reduced. You guys don’t happen to have a spare Viper, do you?
Stay focused on the mission

>>4611819
>>”This is Bryson. I’ve taken severe damage, combat capacity reduced. You guys don’t happen to have a spare Viper, do you?

>>4611823
>>4612282
Set. Update will be posted tomorrow 7 MST.

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”This is Bryson. I’ve taken severe damage, combat capacity reduced. You guys don’t happen to have a spare Viper, do you?”

“Bryson, Wedge. That would be a negative, we have an excess of pilots already. Specifics on damage, but make it quick. If you’re capable of flight, point bearing 138 Carom 57 and move as fast as feasible.”

4 of the vipers were already flying off into the asteroids, two others forming up on his wing, one(with a Kallallisis Identifier on their dorsal fin)coming in close off of his starboard.

“Wedge, there is damage to my starboard thrust pod, unsure of how severe, only that power was immediately lost to it on hits,” pushing the throttle forwards and compensating for the rightward drift with the RCS.”

“Copy Bryson, recommend powering down the portside thrust pod and rolling on your main engine. No direct damage to the thruster itself, but there's a large gash in the body of the thing.”

“Understood.” He acknowledged, powering it down with a button push, RPM needles dropping without any pause. The drift was rectified, but his acceleration was noticeably slower.

“Wedge, I have a wingman out here with me, in an inoperable Viper. We should swing around and recover him.”

“We passed by him, saved coords. The retreating wing will notify an SR Raptor, they’ll pick him up.”

An SR Raptor? More must have gotten away from the fight than he had initially thought.

“Bryson, Status on Fuel?”

He glanced at the readout and grimaced.

“Practically Joker.”


“Give me minutes.”

“14 minutes. More or less. I hope wherever you’re guiding me isn’t far.”

“Don’t worry Bryson.” He heard a smile in Wedge's voice. “We’re all getting low.”

>”How many are there? Did a ship survive?”

>”How come we aren’t getting jumped by a dozen wings of Raiders right now? Back when we first entered the Cluster, they were all over us.”

>”Any update on the Sabazios? The rest of the Task Force? Are they coming back for us?”

>Write in.

>>4613009
>”How come we aren’t getting jumped by a dozen wings of Raiders right now? Back when we first entered the Cluster, they were all over us.”

>>4613009
>>”Any update on the Sabazios? The rest of the Task Force? Are they coming back for us?”

>>4613009
To clarify, you can ask all or none of these questions.

>>4613027
Going to change my vote >>4613016 to asking all 3 then

“There are about 20, or 30 Vipers, Mark 2s and 3s, a frackload of Raptors, and a shuttle or two. Most of the crew of the Sarrotis bailed after the Taskforce jumped, and her CO managed to get out before it completely broke up, he’s organizing this mess. No surviving decks though, but we think there’s a Manticore out here. It was what we were out here for, actually.”

“As for why we're still alive? The Cylons are just as blind as we are. Initial jamming was overlapped with excessive radiation from leaking tylium and cracked reactors. Something about this cluster is trapping it all in. Maybe some sort of magnetic field? Maybe the Gods? Either way, long range-no, all communication barring lasers and extreme close range are nigh impossible, alongside the failing DRADIS. They can’t see us, we can’t see them.”

“That spiel should’ve answered the question about the Sabazios. Post jump, a few Arachne jumped out. Guessing they were following. Don’t know if they’ve made it or if they’ve been wiped. CO told us all to assume they’re not coming back.”

For a second Bryson thought there might be a way out, rescue or simple escape. Doesn’t seem so likely now. The Raptors could jump away, but they had to be back to capacity and then some. Did raptors even have the fuel to head 3 days back? The range?

“So what’s the plan? There is a plan?”

No response.

They flew on, his DRADIS becoming more and more faulty before he switched it off. It was useless, and was using up precious fuel anyhow.

“I guess...the plan was to get the Manticore, seal ourselves to it and jump the frack out.” Wedge came back on the net, his voice level. “CO Didn’t give us a straight opord, but that’s the only thing I could think of in terms of anything, I figure.”

>Write in.

>Continue on to Rally Point.

>>4613056
>>Continue on to Rally Point.

>>4613056
>>Continue on to Rally Point.

>>4613056
>Continue on to Rally Point.

>>4613061
>>4613135
>>4613150
Set, writing.

His fuel readout dripped down to 12:30 when they drifted into the rally point. Wedge's initial signal to slow didn’t make much sense until he looked up.

Nestled in the crater of a mid sized asteroid were 2 dozen some raptors, all in various states of repair and orientation. Near the center sat a shuttle, access bays lit up with dim red light, a grouping of landed vipers nearby. He could just make out the forms of sailors in EVA suits working over the Vipers, but otherwise all else was still and dark.

“Welcome to what we’ve been calling home for the past...hour? I’d recommend you land near the shuttle, tell ‘em about your damage. Don’t expect a chance to stretch your legs-we’re already had to first orbits go drifting off, and the CO does NOT like wasting fuel to grab ‘em, no matter how miniscule that amount may be.”

“Copy Wedge. Thank you.”

“Nah friend, don’t thank me. Not yet.”

As Bryson flew over the crater, the finer details made themselves more clear. Many of the raptors were scarred and pockmarked, one that appeared to be completely gutted of its cargo bay abandoned off to the edge of the crater. They didn’t get away clean. How many didn’t make it?

He carefully set his Viper down near the shuttle, his skids raising up a cloud of dust. A suited sailor approached his Viper the moment it stilled, and keyed into his personal intercom.

“Hello there, Lieutenant Lake, glad you can join us! Surprised, didn’t figure there’d be too many others coming in so late, but I guess the Cylons are just as confused as we are. I’m Crew Specialist Elma. Please give me your fuel status and overall combat readiness.”

Taken aback by Elma’s...casual tone, and his Virgonese accent(Virgons aren’t common in the Fleet.), he read off his fuel indicators and told him about the damaged starboard side thruster.

“Cutting it closer, aren’t we? I’m authorized to give you a bit of a fill up, up to 30 minutes. Nothing more I’m afraid, the CO is very strict about things like this.” He tapped the canopy glass. “If you want to take a breather in the shuttle, you’re authorized a 15 minute break to eat, drink, sleep. But it is advised that you keep your flight suit and helmet on and nearby.”

>Take a breather.

>Don’t. No idea when the Cylons might attack. An hour Wedge said? Plenty of time to get scouted out.

>Write in

>>4613164
>>Take a breather.

>>4613164
>Don’t. No idea when the Cylons might attack. An hour Wedge said? Plenty of time to get scouted out.

>>4613164
>>Take a breather.

>>4613166
>>4613270
Set. Writing.

>Don’t. No idea when the Cylons might attack. An hour Wedge said? Plenty of time to get scouted out.
probably too late, our gut is telling us the moment we let down our guard to take a breather, we are gonna get attacked.

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Pushing himself up and out of the cockpit, Bryson stretched his arms up and back, both shoulders audibly cracking. Elma took his shoulder and guided him towards the shuttle's airlock, the EVA pack the specialist wore on his back propelling them forward with only a few puffs of hypergolic gas.

The shuttle itself was more or less a slightly aerodynamic brick, about as large as 2 school buses side by side, all of the hull plating around the engines removed, tubes leading from it to two other raptors. Bryson guessed that they were using it as an impromptu fueling station. Guessing it had got away with a full tank, it could have enough Tylium to fuel 30 or 40 Vipers to full. Though he figured that at this point, it was far from topped up.

Elma gave in a pat on the shoulder, and a smile as they got the airlock.

“Please sir. Try to relax. We’ll get your rocket up and running in no time at all. I’ll come back for you when your time is up.”
-----------------------------
The inside of the shuttle was dim. It wasn’t a cargo shuttle, it was a passenger type, meant to ferry crew to and from stations or other ships. There were only a few other occupants, all viper pilots from what he could discern, and all knock the frack out. He walked down the center aisle, looking for a place to sit without disturbing anyone else, or maybe the latrine, when he walked past a pilot with a patch he recognized. Sabazios BSG-17. He couldn’t see their face but they were definitely awake, staring out one of the viewports with a half eaten protein stick in front of them.

Bryson slid into the seat across from them and she turned to him, her expression lighting up.


“Bryson? You’re alive!”

Clest. Maybe not a friend, but definitely a constant. The both of you came from Picon, went to the academy at the same time, even stationed on the same ship, the Atlisa before the both of you were, again, both assigned to the Sabazios. She was Brysons wingman then.

>Nice to see your still kicking Clest. Your wingman, Topsoil? Is he around? Anybody else made it out of that clusterfrack?

>Yes, still alive, much to my own dismay. You have any idea what’s going on? Has an official plan been disseminated?

>Write in.

>>4615355
>Nice to see your still kicking Clest. Your wingman, Topsoil? Is he around? Anybody else made it out of that clusterfrack?

>>4615355
>Nice to see your still kicking Clest. Your wingman, Topsoil? Is he around? Anybody else made it out of that clusterfrack?

>>4615361
>>4615387
Set. Writing.

She scoffed, sitting back in her seat.

“Topsoil got scuffed from flack, a pair of Raiders finished him off.” She rubbed her nose, thinking. “I heard Flint go down. He was real loud about it. Don’t know about River, though I don’t think the odds are great for him. I mean, the odds aren’t great for any of us, but if he’s still out there it’s probably in a dead Viper.”

“How’d you get away?”

“I stuck around the Sarrotis before they abandoned her, that was a real damn meat grinder. Followed one of the raptors here. Just got out of the hotseat a few minutes back.” She fought back a yawn, pulling at her neck ring. “Wish I could get out of this suit.”

She leaned forward, her voice lowering “Morale is pretty low around here. Understandably, sure, but it’s not great. You might’ve heard, but they were supposedly looking for a Manticore, the Contesius. People keep talking about finding it and jumping out, or just waiting until the taskforce comes back.” She shook her.

“Most are starting to figure that neither of those options are plausible. In. The. Slightest.”

>What makes them think that the Contesius is even still alive? And if she was, why would she still be in the Cluster?

>Has the CO said anything? Silence from command isn’t...he should be stopping all this scuttlebut.

>Write in?

>>4615402
>What makes them think that the Contesius is even still alive? And if she was, why would she still be in the Cluster?
>Has the CO said anything? Silence from command isn’t...he should be stopping all this scuttlebut.

>>4615402
Fuck, forgot to note. Every dialogue option is a single minute elapsed.

>>4615402
>>What makes them think that the Contesius is even still alive? And if she was, why would she still be in the Cluster?

>>4615406
>>4615427
Set, writing.

“I have no idea Bry, only that supposedly a few Viper pilots spotted her running off from the main fight, trailing fire and debris. I didn’t see this, though that was a very hectic half hour. But as to why she’d still be around? I’d guess they\ir jumpdrive was knocked out.”

“If that was the case, why would people think that they’d be able to use it to jump out? I mean, why would…” Her expression made him pause.

“Yeah Bry. It’s a pipedream, 100%. The Contesius is gone.” She looked out the port hole again. “There are about 300 some sailors literally stuffed into a tiny cargo hold. It’s really easy to start up some crap all at once and have it keep rolling, especially in a situation like this. And Alios, he’s out of his depth. There’s only one option for us, and I don’t think he’s willing to commit.”


“Attack. An offensive.”

“Right. Limited fuel, limited time until this or the other two rally points are found out, or all this radiation dissipates, if it dissipates, or when we run out of food. But the main factor right now is fuel. We’ve got less than 2, maybe 3 hours until we’re out for good, and then the Cylons are free to just capture us. Or slaughter us, whichever they prefer for today. No, the only option we have is to hit that mining facility, and instead of destroying it....we take it.”

>How likely is it that we’ll be able to even take the fracking place? If it’s a staging point, how many Cylon capitals could be there? I somehow doubt we have that much in the way of anti-ship capabilities besides maybe a few assault raptors. We don’t have the stamina to fight something like that. We don’t have anything in the way of support?

>Does it have to be a capture? Can’t we simply, I don’t know, intercept a fuel shipment, or dart in and out with a tank of tylium? Maybe a few Raptors can catch up with the Taskforce, if it’s out there, get them to return and pull us out?

>Write in

>>4615460
>>How likely is it that we’ll be able to even take the fracking place? If it’s a staging point, how many Cylon capitals could be there? I somehow doubt we have that much in the way of anti-ship capabilities besides maybe a few assault raptors. We don’t have the stamina to fight something like that. We don’t have anything in the way of support?

>>4615460
>How likely is it that we’ll be able to even take the fracking place? If it’s a staging point, how many Cylon capitals could be there? I somehow doubt we have that much in the way of anti-ship capabilities besides maybe a few assault raptors. We don’t have the stamina to fight something like that. We don’t have anything in the way of support?

>>4615531
>>4615554
Set. Writing.

She shrugged.

“I mean, given how they wiped the floor with us when we first got here, I don’t think we have the best of chances the second time around, especially with a complete reduction of combat power. But what other choice do we have.” She held a gloved finger. “Look, it’s either we wait and die or do and probably die. I’d preferably do the latter, you know?

Bryson dwelled on it for a moment. The logic checks out, they had nothing else. And even if they couldn’t capture the bloody thing…

The airlock cycled and a man in a nondescript maintenance vac suited stepped into the compartment, his form barely silhouetted by the dim running lights. He walked down the aisle quietly, as Bryson and Clest lapsed into silent contemplation. The man stopped next to them, and Bryson looked up at him. Close cropped dark hair, graying at the temples,deep crows feet marking his eyes, his face set in a grim expression.

“The both of you didn’t feel the need to sleep, eh?”
“It’s a little tense for sleep right now, don’t you think?” Clest jokes, peering into the man's face. “What ship are you off of? That’s not a viper flight suit.

He shrugged. “I’m bridge crew off of the Sarrotis. Managed to get leave to stretch my legs a bit. Decided to head over here.Mind if I…?” He gestured to the seat next to Bryson.

“No Sir, I don’t mind at all. Go ahead.” He slowly lowered himself into the seat, his knees almost audibly popping, audible through the tough EVA

“What’s up. You guys doing alright? I’ve had a talk with some other crew and they aren’t feeling it, to say the least, but I haven’t got word from any of the fighters.

>We’re good enough Sir. Ready for...whatever happens next, I guess.

>Let Clest respond.

>Write in

>>4615654
>We’re good enough Sir. Ready for...whatever happens next, I guess.

>>4615664
>>Write in
"Mood's pretty low but we're not out of it yet, sir."

>>4615407
every different option or if it every post containing an option?

>>4615664
>>We’re good enough Sir. Ready for...whatever happens next, I guess.

>>4615831
Every post containing an option.

>>4615947
So less posters mean more time for our characters.....

>>4617434
No, QM means each post made by them, not each vote.

Cylons killed everyone again, and stole our skin!

>>4631537
In the end, we are all cylons