Chapter 7
Dacre had decided to reduce the alert level somewhat, enough that he could deploy the grav decks as it appeared that contact had been pretty much peaceful, at least enough so that he would begrudge his crew the health benefit of pseudo-weight.
He thought it a bit odd that the ship opposite him wasn’t doing the same, but then again at the size of the beast it might have fully internal grav decks so he wouldn’t be able to tell if they’d spun them up or not.
He was still waiting for the translation team, which from further reports would feature his first meeting with the redoubtable Dr Stevens. Joy. Especially considering that his former CO back when he’d been a young wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant was accompanying his fiance and had forwarded a list of ‘helpful suggestions’.
But the suggestions were sensible enough from what little he knew of Dr Stevens, so he’d had a stateroom set aside for her with two-way voice communication and 1 way video conferencing, arranged for a rotating set of female marines to guard the hatchway, and issued instructions keeping the passageways between the shuttle bay and the stateroom completely clear when the team arrived.
Then again, she’d not been rescued from the Rimmer frontier world where she’d ‘lived’ until she was 12, and Dacre’s mind shied away from the horrors he knew females, regardless of age, suffered amongst the Rimmers unless they won the lottery and were born into the Elite caste.
And considering that he had it on good authority that Dr Stevens had a truly eidetic memory? He considered it a minor miracle that Tank had managed to get past her trauma and earn her trust and affection.
But the day before they were due to arrive came an event he’d been notified of from Galactica as a small flotilla of those 50 ton shuttles, accompanied by a smaller unidentified craft that seemed completely different in terms of design style. He had his sensors fully focused on them, gathering yet more data on their emergence and actions.
The next day the pair of Cossak Fleet Destroyers that comprised Constitutions normal escort arrived, one loaded with her usual complement of three Storms and the other with 2 of the swift assault droppers and, looking quite out of place on the small destroyer, the Galaxy-class Logistics Dropship that Constitution normally carried on her fifth ‘fixed’ docking point.
The two Cossaks immediately moved to the standard escort positions, while the Storms similarly formed up into the standard defensive formation. The Galaxy and a shuttle docked with Constitution, the Galaxy on her dedicated hardpoint, and the shuttle in the shuttle bay.
Extra clamps mated with specially reinforced hold down points on the hull of the Galaxy and in a matter of minutes the logistics dropship looked like it was faired into the much larger cruiser, rather than a separate parasite craft. Dacre found himself relaxing a bit, no captain of a cruiser or larger vessel really liked being separated from their assigned Galaxy any longer than strictly needed.
After all, the Admiralty, in a fit of diabolical planning and evil inventiveness, had ensured that no major combat unit carried its own ice cream machines, but rather had to rely on their Galaxy-class logistics vessels to provide the delicacy. Thus ensuring that crews would make sure to keep the logistics vessels safe in combat.
Cunning. Evil. But Cunning.
With the team present Dacre called a meeting to discuss plans going forward. Dr Stevens attended remotely via one-way vidlink. Tank was there, but following the principle that a ship’s captain is junior only to God on board his own ship he let Dacre run the meeting.
“These… Colonists, I believe the term is?” he glanced over at the video pickup, but it was one of the translation team who was present who answered.
“It’s the best we have right now, Captain.” the young woman said. “Αποικίες is the closest modern Greek word, which can mean Colony, Colonies, Colonists, etc based on context. Since this is more akin to Attic Greek, the word meaning is known to have drifted quite a bit. And for all we know it means something other than it might in Attic”
Dacre rubbed his forehead. “We’ll go with Colonists for now, then. They have requested that we come aboard their big ship, the Galactica, to begin talks. I’ve stalled them so far on the grounds of waiting for the translation team, but the question is if we agree to their terms, insist on them coming to us, or something else.”
He paused, looking around the table. “If we go to them, on the positive side it shows trust in them acting honorably, it may make them more comfortable with us and positively inclined, and it will give us the opportunity to get a closer look at their technology and readiness. Negative, it may show weakness, us coming to them as supplicants in our own space. It places whoever we send over in a position of great vulnerability if they prove hostile, and it may allow them to only show us what they want us to see.”
There were nods around the table.
“If we insist they come to us, on the positive side it is a show of strength, we are setting the terms for the discussion right from the start and starting off from a position of authority. We have control over the situation and can stage manage the meeting however we wish. On the other hand it may antagonize them, causing them to become hostile, it allows them a better look at our technology than we might want to give them, and if they’re as sneaky and fanatical as the Rimmers they might sneak a suicide bomb on board.” Dacre continued.
He then took a breath “We don’t really have any neutral parties where we could hold the talks, we’re in deep space at the moment after all. Yes, Dr Stevens?” he interrupted himself upon noticing that the ‘attention’ light was blinking next to Kerry’s pickup.
“Captain, there is a ‘neutral’ way, actually. According to your reports a clearly civilian dropship of some sort docked with the Galactica. Perhaps we could specify that the meeting took place onboard that vessel, perhaps with our delegation going on on the Galaxy we came in with.” Kerry’s voice was quite calm, more so than he’d feared with the horror stories of her behavior at meetings were to be believed.
Dacre bristled slightly, though, at the thought of risking the Galaxy, but he then nodded, it was a sensible proposal.
The meeting continued for a while longer, ironing out things like protocols they intended to follow, communications methods, and other logistical affairs before he returned to his CIC to contact Galactica with the request, accompanied by one of the translation team who’d been working on the melange of languages these ‘Colonists’ spoke.
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“They want to do what?” Roslin sat in Adama’s ready room once more.
“They want to meet on board Colonial One, although they refer to it as the ‘civilian drop ship’ rather than by name. They propose sending their delegation over on their ‘logistics drop ship’, which I’m guessing would be that big one that docked on their main vessel earlier today.” Adama repeated the proposal. “They refer to it as ‘truce ground’, I think they mean ‘neutral ground’.” he shrugged. “It at least means we’ll be talking, Madame President.”
She sat silently for a moment, thinking. “I’ll want a squad of your most level-headed Marines on board Colonial One for this, and keep Starbuck well away from it as well.”
Adama chuckled. “She’d either challenge them all to drinking contests, strip triad, or get into a brawl. Could be interesting to see their reaction, but probably not wise for the first meeting.”
She surprised herself with a laugh at that. “Exactly. Once we get their measure, maybe. But if they are the 13th Tribe, well… I think it’s reasonable enough.”
Say what you will about Laura Roslin, but nobody had ever successfully accused her of being indecisive.
“Tell them we agree.” she looked over at Adama. “But I’ll take Lee, if this is a trap, we can’t afford to lose both of us.”