Chapter Text
DISCLAIMER – I don’t own Battlestar Galactica, original series or the remake.
WARNINGS – Canon-Typical-Violence, Language, Homophobia, Past-Murder-Attempt
SUMMARY – What if when the Fleet was accidently separated from the Galactica in S2E1 “Scattered” things hadn’t gone quite as smoothly as the show originally implied? This story follows the crew of the Talthybius, a former cruise ship, on the unexpectedly challenging day and the days that follow…
A/N – I’ve had this idea floating around in the back of my mind for years but kept putting it off…until my brain refused to let me get on with any of my other stories until I’d started it. What’s one more story on the go? *nervous laughter*
Hopefully by getting this out of my brain I can get back to work on some of my other works which are painfully overdue an update.
I’ve used some characters from the original 1978 series which didn’t make the cut for the 2003 reboot (which is why I've tagged the original series.)
Also for anyone who’s interested the title comes from the musical ‘Hadestown’ which I’ve completely fallen in love with recently and highly recommend.
ANY WAY THE WIND BLOWS
CHAPTER ONE – KOL
“…where’s the Galactica?”
Kol Omega, XO of the Colonial Cruise Ship (CCS) Talthybius, found himself unable to respond.
It wasn’t a question he’d ever expected to be asked, not with the current state of affairs regarding the possible extinction of the human race, and yet it was a perfectly valid one.
Before their latest jump to escape the Cylons attack at Kobol the Galactica had been just ahead of them in the Fleet as they orbited the legendary planet and had been perfectly visible through the wide view port which dominated the far wall of the Talthybius’ bridge.
It should have still been there following the emergency FTL jump only…it wasn’t...
Danny Guzman, the ships Commanding Officer who had been approaching retirement when the attacks happened, cleared his throat nervously before asking them to check the dradis.
A tense silence followed, broken at length by Beth Rigel,
“Nothing, sir. Galactica isn’t showing on the screen. She’s…she’s not there…”
Kol wasn’t the only one to curse under their breath upon hearing this.
They’d lost the one ship with any chance of defending them against an attack.
“Anyone else missing?”
Another pause, slightly longer as the poor young woman had to identify each ship by the codes displayed on the ancient equipment she was working with. CCS Talthybius had the somewhat dubious honour of being the oldest ship in the Fleet, older than the Galactica who had only survived the attack on the colonies because she was being decommissioned.
“No, sir,” she finally announced with relief. “All other ships are present and correct.”
“Good,” Danny sighed, wiping his hand down his face as some of the tension within the room was released. “The question now, of course, is what should our next move be?”
“Someone needs to assume command of the fleet,” Kol found himself announcing, settling into the parade rest stance he had always favoured. “Before people begin to panic. Sir.”
“…Rigel, get me Colonial One.”
“Yes, Sir.”
There was a lengthy exchange between the young woman and the communications officer aboard the other ship before a representative of the Quorum of Twelve came on the line.
“This is Commander Daniel Guzman of the CCS Talthybius. In the wake of the Galactica’s absence I would like to propose that my ship to take temporary command of the Fleet.”
“And why should your ship be in charge, Commander Guzman?”
“My XO is a former Colonel of the Colonial Fleet and therefore has the training for scenarios such as this,” Danny explained. “And two-thirds of my ships crew are also ex-Colonial Fleet.”
“I see,” the unfamiliar voice responded slowly, soft voices conferring in the background before he spoke again, “Well, in the absence of the President and Vice-President we, the remaining members of the Quorum, thank you for your offer and agree with your plan.”
There was a pause and then,
“You have command of the Fleet, Commander Guzman.”
There was a pause follows the official statement and then the line went dead.
Danny exhaled loudly, the colour draining from his face as he turned to Kol and asked,
“How do we protect the Fleet without the Galactica?”
His mind began to race through possible scenarios in response, a frown settling on his forehead for all to see…and see they did, watching him with bated breath. They weren’t used to him hesitating, weren’t used to seeing him puzzled by something. He was the steadiest and most reliable member of the command team, his knowledge far surpassing everyone else’s when it came to the running of a ship be it civilian, military or otherwise.
At last his brain latched on to one option and, with no other choice, he ran with it.
“We need to close the gaps between the ships,” he announced firmly. “Make ourselves a smaller target on dradis whilst also reducing the area we need to protect. On that note I need my husband up here to take command of a patrol around the fleet. Any ships that have vessels capable to running a dradis scan need to get them into the air immediately.”
“Alright, but why?”
“We’ll send the patrols far enough out that they can remain in contact with the fleet and scan further afield to give us more warning should we need to jump to a new location,” Mol explained his reasoning calmly whilst people began putting his words into action around him. “We should keep all of the fleets FTL engines warmed up and primed just in case, too.”
“…thank the Gods the company hired you when you left the Colonial Fleet.”
Kol huffed out a brief laugh.
Thank the Gods, indeed…
~ * ~