[Tabitha]

Chapter 7
All fall down

Magna Sector 37 Light Years Outside the Colonies
Colonial Research Station Arcadia
1/10/48 0900

General Brandt guided the massive Battlestar Avalon into a parking orbit fifteen meters away from the edge of Arcadia. The monstrous Battlestar dwarfed the station and caused some undue fear in the stations staff, but Brandt didn’t give a damn about that. He needed to get his ship into fighting trim, and that meant a refit using the stations ship yard, as well as the weapons and fighters that Arcadia housed. The process of stripping Arcadia would take a few days, but he had that much time, he hoped. The Cylons certainly didn’t know about Arcadia, which was a good thing. It meant a safe port for the time being. He could use that time to get a handle on the situation, figure out what happened, and how to best employ the Avalon to help.
Janus Godfrey was just a cook at the station, but he was delighted to watch the Avalon slip silently into orbit with Arcadia. Seeing the desperate look on the faces of her crew, he feared the worst. Then it occurred to him, if a Battlestar was parking outside their door… it meant that Colonial security was already compromised.
He was a retired Colonial Warrior, serving out time just for something to do. He had fought and lost both legs in the Cylon war, then retired to private life. That life just didn’t suit him. The candy assed civilians just pissed him off and he knew he had to get out of the Colonies or end up killing someone. So he applied for duty anywhere, doing anything, and was informed that his training in infantry and flying Vipers made him an excellent candidate for being a kitchen bunny on Arcadia. That news instantly begged the question of “What experience then, exactly, would prevent somebody from being a kitchen bunny?” He hadn’t answered that question, since as far as he could tell, ANY form of experience, and a pulse, meant you were a good candidate to peel potatoes in the kitchens of the Fleet. He considered that and decided to change that to “Having a pulse made you a kitchen bunny candidate.” That seemed to be the only common thread he could find with the other bunnies.
He took off the pink hairnet and pink apron and set them aside, those particular pieces of apparel being the reason one was called a kitchen “bunny”. Janus left the kitchen, leaving the eggs to boil over and become SEP, or Someone Else’s Problem. He wanted to know what was going on, and the only way to find out was to ask them.

Planet Virgon, Port Devotion
1/10/48 1400
Fourth Armored took heavy losses all morning and well into the afternoon. The Marines returned to help support the green Army troops. Cecil thought they looked tired and weary. The VDF civil defense troops however, stood their ground, falling back only when ordered to do so. They were not graceful or tactically proficient in their defense, but they absolutely refused to budge even a foot, making the Cylons earn every yard they gained. The tunnels that the VDF used to move troops and equipment were packed with wounded and dead. The VDF would not allow the Cylons to count the dead VDF hero’s, they denied the Cylons everything. For a tribe known for being peaceful and hospitable, the Virgonians were fighting like an elite Tauron commando team. Even with the obsolete infantry weapons, the old “Sword” missile launchers seemed to slow the Titans enough to allow organized retreat. The orbital bombardment from the invasion barge was making it difficult to mass tanks or infantry in positions long enough to do any real damage, however. They had to eliminate that orbital platform.
“Red seven, this is Harmony Command, do you copy?” he heard over the radio. He perked up, Major Catlett and the Port Harmony Army was on the line, trying to coordinate efforts. This was good, it was progress. “Go ahead Harmony Command, this is General Rolf Gustaf, commanding VDF Central Command, what can we do for you?”
“Requesting permission to launch RocShasta’s on the invasion barge.” He heard Major Catlett say with pride. That meant they had located the barge and were targeting it, that they were simply wanting to make sure that no VDF aircraft were engaged with it.
“Kick their ass, Eric! Kick their unholy chrome plated asses!” he heard his commanding officer yell in triumph. He looked out over the ridge line as his tank backed away from the last firing position. Off in the distance he saw seven missiles, which he assumed to be RocShasta missiles, rise up towards the heavens, to pay the sons of bitches back for what they had been doing to the people of Virgon.
As he waited for the rest of his tank battalion to get into firing position, he saw an immensely bright flash in the sky, and then it rained down debris just as it had earlier when they tin cans had destroyed the orbital platform Haven. The cheers from his exhausted troops were more valuable to him just then than all the fuel and ammo in the world. Virgon was fighting back, and making some gains.

Planet Caprica, Caprica City
1/10/48 2200

Tabitha Catlett landed the shuttle on the makeshift landing strip just outside the South suburb of Caprica City. It was her seventeenth flight, which was becoming more and more horrific. There was no rhyme or reason to the way the refugees were being loaded, the shuttles of Task Force Rubicon were busy flying mission after mission, non-stop until all the makeshift transports were filled. She was assigned to Caprica, though she was from Virgon and requested permission to fly at least one flight home to make sure she had evacuated her family. She, like all the shuttle pilots were denied permission to land on their home planets. The lure of desertion was strong, and the Commander was not going to allow the temptation to lure away his Warriors.
She helped another wounded lady aboard, and then felt herself thrown against the bulkhead. She turned and raised her fists, trying to figure out what had just happened to her. The form of a large angry looking man loomed over her. She tossed her hair back out of her face and wiped blood off her cheek. This wasn’t the first time she had been roughed up, the people were angry, feeling betrayed and wanting to take it out on whoever they felt was responsible. It was a story common to all the Rubicon pilots. They were made to bear the burden of guilt for the entire Colonial Fleet. All the guilt, all the shame, all the hatred was projected onto the small shoulders of Tabitha and the pilots of Task Force Rubicon. She raised a hand to defend herself and felt the blows come again and again and again. It hurt, stung her cheek and jaw, her ribs were already bruised from an earlier assault. As if the loss of her squadron, her Battlestar, and her home were not enough, she was feeling the physical effects of being beaten again and again.
She curled into a ball to try to keep from being beaten so badly, and then finally it stopped. The mans rage had subsided, and he was looking down at her, his eyes still wild with rage, but his mind now clear. He knelt down and held her, shaking from what he had done, and now crying with her. However, there wasn’t time to talk it out. She allowed him to help her up and climbed into the shuttle, holding her ribs as she made her way to the cockpit. Her co-pilot looked up then away. He too felt shame that they had failed the Colonies. There was not a lot of eye contact being made. So far all the shuttle pilots could do was try to accept that they had lost. It was especially hard on the former Viper pilots who were stripped of their Vipers and assigned to shuttles. That was not only insulting to Viper pilots, but it was understood as punishment for losing their squadrons and Battlestars. Their records were a disgrace they could not leave behind, and they were pariahs to anyone who would call them friends. To the pilots left behind from the lost Battlestars, there would be no second chance, no redemption, only humiliation and disgrace.