[spcglider]

Okay, here it is. The first fan fic I've written in over 15 years. Enjoy.
-Gordon



From the private log of Commander Garron:

We missed it. The rendezvous.

Word came down on the scrambled military channel from the bridge of the Battlestar Galactica. Commander Adama was gathering the last remnants of humanity at secret coordinates just outside of Colonial space. His purpose? We don’t know. All they transmitted were the coordinates.

Not a terrific situation for a Commander who’s been in place for less than three sectons.

With the armistice a certainty, everyone in the military was jockeying themselves into plumb peacetime positions. When the treaty was announced, Commander Rell of the Starcarrier Solari decided that it was time to retire. My father, being an advisor to the council member from Canceria, decided that his son wasn’t going to end the war without a command of his very own.

Well, father, your Commander son blew it.


Chapter 1

Starcarrier Solari… one quarter the size of a battlestar. What some would term a “gunboat”, the Solari had seen more action against the Cylon Empire than most. Not quite so venerable as the battlestars, she bore the scars of battle like the character lines of an aged wise crone. Originally one of hundreds, by the time Baltar conspired to betray all humanity to the Cylons the Solari was one of only a handful of the original starcarriers left in the Colonial Fleet. Long since outmoded by sleeker, more modern fighting craft.

On approach to the rendezvous coordinates, the Solari’s scanners detected no military ships. But the area was far from clear. The starcarrier hadn’t arrived in time to depart with the fleet, but it wasn’t the only spacecraft that was too late. Several dozen stragglers, all civilian vessels, were dancing in a tight formation while a swarm of Cylon attack craft circled and hammered them with laser fire. They moved in and around each other hoping to spread the damage between them. It was a standard tactic shared among the merchant spacers. Everyone shares the pain, everyone hopefully survives.

Devastating losses from pushing through Cylon blockades around the colonies had depleted her compliment. It hadn’t been a holiday cruise arriving at the secret coordinates. But Solari had rescued many stranded fighter craft in her flight through the armistice battlefield. Within microns, pilots weary from protracted battle on the Colonial front throttled forward from the Solari’s launch tubes. Their mission: frag tin cans.

No less than 8 squadrons from disparate Colonial starcraft were represented in the new ranks of the Solari. Pilots that had never fought together became instant and trusted wingmen. They moved with purpose, skill and vengeance. The battle lasted mere centons.

“ Flight leader Blackjack is calling the all clear Commander.”

“Thank you, Keill. Bring them in. We need to set up communication protocols with those civilian ships and move from these coordinates.”

“Yes, Commander. But it’s likely those raiders were stragglers as well… fulfilling their pre-programmed mission to destroy any humans they encountered.”

“That may be, but I won’t risk running into a Base Ship. We haven’t got the chops for that.”

Corporal Keill’s agreement was cut short as a new report flashed across his screen. A quizzical look crossed his face. “Sir, hard scan indicates a military marker beacon at grid 730. We’re picking up a truncated signal.”

“Through to my station, please.”

On the screen before him, an image appeared. It was something that Commander Garron recognized, but only at the back of his brain. Buried deep in some memory, this image was familiar, yet just beyond mental grasp.

“ I know this…” he said quietly, touching the screen.

“Of course you do,” said Flight Officer Cheron over his shoulder, “you went through officer’s training. It’s Sikkrit… the language of the Lords.”

“Yes. We translated the Book of the Word from Sikkrit to Colonial Standard as part of ethics training. But this is a single word. What does it mean?”

“That signal buoy is encoded with the Galactica’s i.d marker. Commander Adama obviously had a plan.”

“That’s an extremely short range signal,” Spoke up Keill, “ If we hadn’t known the exact coordinates, we’d have completely missed it. Perhaps this is a clue as to where they’ve gone?”

“ A little vague, don’t you think?” Garron replied, “One word? And not only that, but the ancient Kobollian word for “dirt’?”

Cheron started to giggle. Not something she was prone to do. Something had to be spectacularly humorous to get Cheron to laugh.

“Something funny?” Garron asked.

“Your translation skills are a little rusty, Commander. The word isn’t “dirt”.

“Then what is…”

“It’s Earth. The word is “Earth”.




Safely hidden in a stellar dust cloud, the makeshift fleet awaited the determination of their next move. The captains of the civilian ships waited impatiently for word from the Solari’s Commander.

Captain Blackjack punched the buzzer outside Garron’s office quarters. The door noisily slid aside and he stepped through.

“You wanted to see me… sir?”

“Have a seat, Blackjack.”

The captain hesitated a moment.

“Please.” Garron continued.

Blackjack slid into the seat facing the commander’s work area. He wasn’t fond of this new Commander. Their age difference didn’t help. Garron was many yahrens his junior, yet he was his commanding officer. Blackjack had spent the bulk of his military career in flagrant disdain of his superiors. He had finally found a suitable state of balance under Commander Rell on the Solari. He had respected the old man. He was a good Commander. When Rell took his retirement, all the crew, not just Blackjack, found it difficult to adjust to a new C.O.

“I know the crew is discontent with my installment, Blackjack. What we’ve just been through hasn’t helped. But I think that the fact we are still alive is testament to our ability to work together.”

“We follow our orders, Commander. That’s what warriors do.”

“That isn’t the point. Commander Rell was a good man. A great man. Suddenly being saddled with a young data-pusher for a Commander is no prize. But we don’t have time to allow our feelings to become a center of focus.”

“All due respect, Commander… but the colonies are rubble. Appears to me we have plenty of time.” Blackjack replied.

“Captian,” Garron continued, “I’m not any sort of replacement for Rell and we both know it.”

“I’m glad you said it, Commander, because I’d be flogged if I did.”

“I’ve only been in command for a few sectons. This ship is new to me. Hades, this JOB is new to me. But you… you’ve been on board the Solari for yahrens. You are liked and respected by the crew and your fellow warriors.”

Blackjack shifted in his seat. He didn’t like the thought that he stood out so plainly to this new officer.

“Don’t expect some sort of mutual admiration society, Commander.” Blackjack returned, “I earned every friend I’ve got left alive on this boat. It took me a long time.”

“ As I have said, Captain, time is a luxury we … I do not have.”


And there you have it. That's it. That's as far as i've gotten.

Tell me what you think!