PHD #253: EVENT - No Forwarding Address (Spacedock Leonis Recon)
No Forwarding Address
Summary: Trask and Ulixes high-tail it in a Raptor to ascertain the status of Spacedock Leonis.
Date: 06 Nov 2041 AE
Related Logs: Lion's Hide, Making Plans in the Absence of Plans, & AAR - Recon of Spacedock Leonis
Trask Ulixes 
Inside a Raptor
Inside Leonis Space
Post-Holocaust Day: #253

Forty-two days

That is how long the volunteers for Operation Cobra Talon had been stranded on the surface of Leonis after being ambushed by Cylon forces during the initial touchdown at CFAS Anadyomene.

One-hundred and forty-one days

It was raining heavily on that day — the day Battlestar Group 132 managed to rescue its people and some fifty or so survivors form the lion's den, assaulted on all quarters by basestars and Raiders of both configurations. How valiantly the Fleet fought before it fled, and how much blood spilled into the charred earth to be diluted by the torrential downpour.

Perhaps Leonis wept for it was forsaken. Perhaps it knew what would be its fate when those who had once loved it left it behind.

Not all have forgotten nor committed it merely to memory or regret. No, even if the Fleet and the Big Brass are done with this world, LT Kal "Bootstrap" Trask is not yet willing to do that, and it is that unwillingness that has secured the resources and the CAG's approval to return under clandestine circumstances. "Initiating final jump."

"I'd just to go on record as saying that I find heroics logically questionable, and that if I die I want to give all my stuff to that pretty little redheaded knuckle-dragger. And this poem, which I will now compose: 'Oh pretty deck worker, I love you to bits. In the showers that time, when I got a great look at your - Here, we go." Ulixes is shaken out of his reverie by Trask's words, keeping an eye on the readouts in front of him to make sure that their jump is as smooth as it can possibly be from his head. He reaches up to tap the side of his helmet, as though the sharp sound will make him even more alert.

"Heroics are the exit strategy of a poorly devised plan. Insane as this is, it makes logistical sense. Funny how something intelligent can also be absolutely idiotic…" Kal quips back, then commences the countdown of, "Five… four… three… wait, you're totally talkin' 'bout— "


The name of the knuckledragger in question is lost to the ether. "What the…?" Bootstrap's brow furrows as he scans his display. "Shit. I think we might be havin' technical problems. What kind of visuals are you gettin' 'cuz I'm seeing zero contacts."

Even though they jumped in at a long-distance, so as to better avoid detection, at least the outermost patrols should be registering on the passive DRADIS. There is nothing, though, in Leonis space. Nothing other than nothingness and the contour of the planet is the far distance.

"Do I suddenly have cataracts? Because I'm not seeing shit," Ulixes answers, standing up out of his seat a bit to lean forward over the console and get a better view, "Nothing. Didn't the briefing say Spacedock Leonis was still intact? Because I'm not seeing it." The Raptor pilot frowns, clearly having no jokes for this particular occurrence, "You jumped us to the right Leonis, didn't you?" Except that one.

"Unless it moved and left no forwarding address." Trask is no stranger to inappropriate humor regarding Serious Stuff. "No sign of any bogeys or bandits?" Meanwhile, he's hooking-up a diagnostic tool to the ECM console to double-check there is no glitch at play. Once that is running in the background, he unfastens his belt and moves to the fore of the cockpit. "You could suddenly have cataracts, but that doesn't change the fact that all I'm seein' is a whole lotta nothin', too." That empty space is scrutinized for a long, hard moment. "Keep on course. Looks like they had a tantrum and destroyed all our toys rather than share or play nice."

"Hi-yo, Silver," Ulixes says casually, adjusting the throttle before taking up the controls and moving along on course. He doesn't go too fast, making sure that they're ready to turn on a cubit and adjust their course if need be, "There's no scrap or anything, though. They didn't just destroy it. They took it all with them."

Trask doesn't even bother to return to his station, but neither does he park it in the co-pilot's seat. "Well, that answers /that/…" One of his many questions is crossed off his mental checklist. "Looks like they entirely closed-up shop." In fact, as the Raptor slowly draws closer to the planet, the ECO console starts to beep. This finally prompts the SL to amble back to console in question, which is picking up massive amounts of radiation. "Talk about bein' butt-hurt. They frakkin' nuked the place as though it were Aquaria." Despite the blithe comment, the man must be serious because he tacks on, "I'm spoolin' to RTB. We're not dosed enough to be out here much longer." Citing a lack of adequate anti-rads really sums up just how bad it is here.

"You're kidding me," Ulixes says, staring almost dumbly out the cockpit window at Leonis before snapping back into pilot mode. He does his pre-FTL checks with care, making sure they get everything right. He doesn't want to be stuck out here, "Pre-FTL checks are all green. Much like us if we hang around here."

Trask kid Ulixes? "Often," is admitted, "but not about this." The pilot would be able to glance at the radiation monitor on his own flight suit to realize that. "Plotting the coordinates. Gonna take a few snapshots while we're spooling."

"Say cheese, irradiated ball of rock," Ulixes says, making a couple checks of his own so he can back Trask up when it comes time to submit a report, "So I take it we're not coming here for our next vacation?"
GAME: Save complete.

"I'm not," Bootstrap banters back before commencing the countdown, "Granted, I have a natural tan."

"I thought that was just dirt from you being a filthy bastard," Ulixes replies with a shrug, punching the FTL drive when it's time to go. Goodbye, Leonis. We shall miss your healthy glow and apocalyptic wasteland.

Without missing a beat, Trask retorts, "Surprisingly, the filth of a foul mouth and a dirty mind doesn't seep through the pores."


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