Chapter 3: "The Hangover"
14 Days Before the Fall of the Colonies
Pherin squinted her watery, bloodshot eyes against the incoming light from the skylight above her. Clumsily putting on her sunglasses, which had mysteriously found their way in to the pocket of her dress uniform, she stared in awe at the rotating ceiling fan above her.
Her hair was an absolute mess as she stood in the center of her living room, clothed only in her dress uniform jacket and one sock, surveying the aftermath of her wild celebration from the night before. Shortly after leaving the pub with the woman who called herself "Six" and her current time everything was a giant, alcohol consumed, sex filled blur. Waking up minutes after noon, still completely drunk, and now (apparently) alone, Pherin realized that she had, at some point during the course of her wild night, lost her underwear. Just moments ago she had stumbled in to her (normally) tidy living room to find a complete warzone; the window blinds all but destroyed, pieces of broken glass and porcelain strewn about the floor, remnants of eviscerated couch pillows lay like snow across the sofa,a fist sized hole in the wall, a decorative candlestick wedged through the television screen and a few smashed bottles of alcohol greeted the intoxicated Pherin. Despite all this only one thing mesmerized the drunken ensign: her missing pair of underwear, draped around the blade of the ceiling fan, as the fan spun lazily.
"Frak me," Pherin giggled as she stared at the underwear clad fan and shook her head. Placing hand on her cold, perspiration soaked head she stumbled back down the hall and in to the bathroom.
Looking at her reflection in the mirror she blushed, realizing that her dress uniform just barely covered her. Naked from the waist down, sans the sock on her right foot, she grabbed a fresh pair of underwear and a shirt from the counter and slipped the underwear on. Removing her jacket, with every intention of putting on the shirt she had just grabbe, Pherin stopped and inspected herself in the mirror. Several fresh, tender bruises had appeared on her neck; love bites, no doubt left by Six, indicated what may, or may not, have been a good night. Pherin grinned mischievously, a grin that slowly began to fade.
The effects of the alcohol beginning to wear off Pherin stared her reflection first in disgust then to depression. At the age of eighteen her body hadn't quite filled out in all the areas she had hoped. While other girls her age flaunted perfect, full asseted bodies the gods seemed to have left no bounty for Pherin, who felt that her body lacked what made other girls beautiful. making a face at her reflection she finally pulled the shirt over herself.
Exiting the bathroom she made her way back to her bedroom as her head began to pound with the incoming, most likely epic, inevitable hangover.
** ** ** **
3 Days Before the Fall of the Colonies
Colonial Transport Ship Gambit
"This is the captain speaking," a mans voice announced through the overhead speakers. "We will be taking off soon. All passengers and crew please stand by."
Pherin sighed as she leaned back in her less than comfortable seat. Checking the restraint harness, that crossed over her chest and held her back in the seat, for about the hundredth time she made a face. As much as she loved to fly she preferred the close quarters, not to mention control, of a cockpit over the spacious cabin of a passenger transport.
Around her about forty, or so, other ensigns, medics, a few marines, techs and officers sat strapped to their seats, awaiting takeoff. Aside from herself nearly all, who were in the cabin of the transport, wore blue uniforms bearing the emblem of Battlestar Olympic on their shoulder. Pherin subconsciously ran her fingers across the embroidered Battlestar Pegasus patch on her own shoulder and grinned.
Two days prior she had been notified by Fleet Command that she was to report to The Colonial Hub, the major port and debrief point in Caprica City, for deployment. Though assigned to the Pegasus the young ensign was instructed to report to the the Olympic and transfer to the Pegasus at Scorpion Fleet Shipyards three days later. During this time Pherin was instructed to run drills with the flight crew of the Olympic.
Pherin had studied the Olympic class Battlestars in the Academy. The three ships of the class, Olympic, Titanic and Britannic were built in the early years of the Cylon War. Nearly identical to the Galactica Class, the Olympic Class Battlestars were built to the then specifications and standards of the Cylon War; manual valves and hatches, corded telephones, non-automated landings as well as non-networked computer systems. Constructed using roughly the same blue prints used with the Galactica, Atlantia and Archeron, as time and resources were stretched thin during the War, the Olympic class vessels were constructed with an extended girth and beam, redesigned passages and altered CIC. Additionally the three ships were equipped with an experimental Faster Than Light (FTL) drive based on captured Cylon technology. Proposed to be more accurate, safer as well as giving a ship an expanded range, the new FTL drives were promised to allow fewer 'jumps' and a smaller 'spool' time than a standard FTL drive.
According to the records, however, the experimental drives installed on the three Olympic Class vessels was unpredictable, dangerous and an absolute disaster. Battlestar Titanic was lost on her maiden mission after after a premature, uncalculated miss fire of the new FTL drive sent the ship in to a crashdown on the Cylon occupied moon Djerba. Four years later the Britannic met a similar demise when a malfunction in the FTL drive computer over shot jump coordinates, sending the doomed Battlestar straight in to the heart of a Cylon minefield. In both cases, Pherin had learned, many lives, as well as military assets, were lost. Fearing that a similar disaster was to befall the Olympic Colonial Command withdrew the ship from service, grounding the ship while crew hastily worked to retrofit the ship with a standard drive to get her back in action. Only two months later the ship was cleared for active duty and returned, serving with many famous Battlestar and Gunstars for the duration of the war.
Following the Cylon War the Olympic went on to serve as a patrol ship along the Armistice Line as newer, more technologically advanced Battlestars were constructed and entered service. Through the years, despite all advances made in technology, the Olympic retained her operating systems and wartime fixtures, even to the present.
A slight commotion in the cabin of the Gambit jarred Pherin back to reality. Turning in her seat she watched as four armed marines literally dragged a man in a Colonial uniform to the vacant seat beside her.
"I told you," a fifth, female marine grumbled to the man as her associates strapped him to the seat. "This plane is taking off soon. Now stay in your seat."
The man, of whom Pherin guessed to be about the age of thirty, was a head taller than her, had hints of five o'clock shadow with short, dark colored hair and steel gray eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the marines.
"I had a nice seat," he argued. Pointing back down the direction they had dragged him from he added, "Nice and cozy in the bathroom."
The marine rolled her eyes as her associates finished strapping the man down. "I promise you, if I catch you out of this seat again, I will not hesitate to knock your fracking ass out. Now you have a nice flight."
As the marines turned and walked away the man turned to Pherin and spoke. "They just don't get it," he said in a low voice. "One tiny crack in a porthole, the hull, a rupture in a fuel line, leaking oxygen feeds, a single iota of life support failure or malfunction in navigation equipment and boom; just like that you're a floating piece of space junk or, worst yet, careening in to a sun."
The man turned from Pherin and pulled a small flask from the breast pocket of his uniform. Shaking his head he sighed and offered the flask to the ensign. Assuming the flask was filled with alcohol Pherin shook her head.
"Suit yourself," the man shrugged as he unscrewed the lid and brought the flask to his lips. Taking a swig he held the flask in his hand, waving it as he continued. "I guess it's my own fault. I never should have signed up for this. Me, aboard a Battlestar. And now they are talking. They think I'm nuts; fracking insane, is what they're thinking. I'm not crazy. It's the fracking astrophobia. Heh, which I'm sure you don't have any clue as to what that is."
The ensign was quick with her rebuttal. "Space," she began. "The fear of outer space and the great beyond, the fear of the nothingness in the outer reaches of universe and the unsettled fear of dying in space." Pherin, raising an eyebrow, turned to the man. "You do realize the Colonial Fleet operates in space, right?"
"Not a lot left for me on Caprica," he said as he took another swig. "Ex wife took everything in the divorce, left me with no place to go except up. Fracking bitch. Anyway the Olympic needs a new medical officer and, combined with my current situation, figured I'd make for space." Drinking again he shook his head and extended a hand to her. "Malloy, Leonard Malloy."
Shaking the mans hand she introduced herself. "Pherin Nevarro."
"Attention," the captains voice echoed through the speakers overhead. "We are now departing. Estimated time to the Olympic is two hours and thirty minutes. Please sit back and enjoy the flight."
The transport shuddered lightly as the craft lifted off the ground, traveling toward the sky. The quietness of the cabin was soon filled with a light whine as the engines fired and the ship gained speed.
Pherin looked out the window and watched as clouds rushed by and soon enough the blue skies over Caprica fade to black as the Gambit left the planets atmosphere. The shuddering slowly began to subside as the ship gently glided through space.
Looking back at Malloy, Pherin shook her head. "I think I'm gonna try and get a little bunk time."
"Pleasent dreams," Leonard said as he unhooked his harness and looked around the cabin cautiously. Spying the group of marines he quickly re attached the harness. "I'll wake you up if we're gonna crash land."
The ensign smiled, glancing back out the window, at the vastness of space allowed to her through the porthole. She nestled her head back into her seat and made herself comfy. Her eyelids becoming heavy as she felt herself drifting off to sleep. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a reflection in the glass of the porthole, the blurred reflection of a woman in a red dress. Opening her eyes she did a double take before whirling in her seat to look toward the aisle. Nobody was there.
"You okay?" Malloy asked.
Nodding she tried making herself comfortable again. Keeping one eye on the reflection in the porthole she slowly drifted off to sleep.
** ** ** **
"Hey Nevarro," a man's voice said in the darkness.
Pherin tensed as she opened her eyes and turned her head. Adjusting to the light momentarily she blinked and soon found herself face to face with Leonard Malloy who, at the moment, was standing, leaning across her lap as he peered out her porthole.
"You gotta see this..."
Fully awake now Pherin turned and stared out the porthole. As she did a smile formed on her lips. Without meaning to she whispered the first words that ran through her mind: "Gods damn..."
Through the porthole, and about two hundred yards from the Gambit, the hulking, gray plated, massive fuselage of a ship slipped past her view. As she watched large, red letters bathed in spotlights proclaimed the identity of the vessel: Olympic BS76. Though only the steel plating of the flight pod could be seen through the porthole Pherin could tell the the (comparatively) smaller Gambit was coming about on the Olympics port side flight pod toward the behemoth entrance at the stern of the flight pod. Pherins heart beat faster as her excitement grew. She was about to step aboard her very first Battlestar.
After what seemed like the longest landing in history which, realistically, only about ten minutes between touching down, being brought below deck and securing the airlock, Pherin stood on the deck of the Olympic. Clutching her backpack straps the young ensign stood, frozen in place, looking around the emense hanger deck as flight engineers, pilots and officers worked around her. The noses of dull gray Viper Mark VIIs could be seen poking out of aircraft bays as rows of earth toned Raptors could be seen further down the line. Voices, announcements over the PA, metal grinding, wrenches ratcheting, hammers falling worked together in an endless, yet managable, roar. Sparks, lighted computer monitors, indicator lights and flashlights in the midst of moving people added to the hustle and bustle as Pherin, still awestruck and mouth gaped, stood (dumbfounded) in the centre of it all.
"Move it along rookie!" a marine barked behind her.
Pherin flinched, looking around for the group of new arrivals she had traveled with aboard the Gambit. Seeing the back of Leonard Malloys head in the crowd she hurried her pace to catch up, carefully navigating through the hanger so as not to end up in anyones way. Catching up to the group she was forced to slow as the group itself was forced to stopped by a group of officers from the Olympic.
"All right people," a man holding a clipboard shouted. "I am Captain Jensen Stacker. On behalf of the crew of the "Olympic" we would like to welcome you aboard. If we could have all medical personnel stay with me, all pilots report to Captain Landriss on my right and all military personnel to Captain Choi. Let's move people."
As the group split up and reported to their respective captains Pherin found herself with six other pilots and followed them to Captain Landriss.
Captain Landriss, as it turned out, was an average looking woman with almond colored skin, dark hair and brown eyes. She stood roughly a foot taller than Pherin, was slightly muscular and dressed in the standard, non-dress uniform; olive pants, sleeveless shirt with black tanktop overshirt and boots. The woman stared at the new pilots, scrutinizing each one. As the medical and military groups left the hanger deck, leaving only the new pilots, the woman crossed her arms over her chest and finally spoke.
"This is," she said sternly and began pacing. "Is the sorriest group of nuggets I have ever laid eyes on. You are on the Olympic, one of the oldest Battlestars in the fleet. This ship has a reputation, spanning across decades, for having nothing but the best flight crews and pilots in the fleet. And I intend to uphold this reputation. I am the CAG; if I don't think you belong in a cockpit, gods dammit, I will ground you as fast of lightning. Any hotheads will be grounded as well."
At the mentions of 'hotheads' Landriss locked eyes with Pherin. Shaking her head the captain marched up to the ensign, looking her over head to toe as she advanced, and stopped. The other six pilots looked on as the captain addressed the group again.
"I realize that you all just arrived but I want everyone suited and booted in ten." Landriss stepped closer to Pherin and said, "That includes all non Olympic pilots."
Pherin fearlessly stared back in to the captains eyes, her confidence unshaken. "Yes sir," she saluted. Following the other pilots her heart began to beat with excitement. Looking up to the ceiling she whispered, "So say we all."
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