From "Luke Fraser" Subject EARTH: The 13th Colony...a series Date: Mon, January 12, 2004 EARTH: The 13th Colony Seawolf156 The dim light of the stars cast a glow across the battle-scarred ship. The gray hull clearly told the tale of furious space battles and longtime exposure to the elements of the universe. Her surfaces, unadorned and exposed for practicality and ease of access, gave her the look of a celestial tank. Her twin landing bays beckoned weary Warrior pilots to their relative safety. The personnel inside the great ship worked together like a well-oiled machine to keep the ship running smoothly. The ship could travel through the depths of space, un-encumbered by the lack of streamlining, at near light speed. The bridge was sparse in creature comforts, but what it lacked for in comforts it made up for in utility. The wide panoramic windows gave a view of what was ahead. The banks of scanners and computers hummed clicked as they monitored hundreds of things that went on in and outside the ship. This large vessel, the Battlestar Galactica, was all that remained of a once proud fleet. The last survivor of the Colonial Military, she led a battered fleet of survivors on a seemingly endless quest for a mythical planet called Earth. Commander Adama walked up to the raised dais in the situated in the center of the bridge. He flicked a switch and watched as his only son Apollo and his long time friend, Starbuck, blast out of the hanger in a Cylon Raider. They were on a mission that was launched only out of sheer desperation. Fixed in the mighty Galactica's path was a Cylon Basestar. Apollo and Starbuck were to infiltrate the ship and plant explosives on the main computer banks. Thus enabling the Galactica to sneak up on the ship and destroy it. To any other man it might have seemed suicidal but Adama had confidence in his son's abilities. Starbuck looked over at his friend as they both tried to get the bucking Raider under control. "Boy, them tin heads sure make piloting one of these look easy." Apollo looked over at his longtime friend and grimaced. "I hope that wasn't a compliment. Anyway I think I got this thing figured out." He wrestled with the controls for a micron and almost magically the Cylon Raider calmed down and flew normally. "See, I think I got it now." "Yeah, now all we have to do is land on that Basestar," Starbuck commented sarcastically. "They will think that we are from one of the patrols and ran out of fuel." Both pilots were looking at each other trying to see if they were going to make it. Starbuck was the first to break contact. He looked out Apollo's window and then over at his own. "Apollo," he yelled. Surrounding them was a flight of Cylon Raiders. Apollo and Starbuck's ship naturally fell into formation with the rest of the patrol. The patrol leader noted the new arrival but as his per his programming he just followed orders and gave few. The new arrival was quickly forgotten and the formation flew on toward the Cylon Basestar. Apollo and Starbuck landed their ship with the others and powered down. They then crouched down in the cockpit to hid from the gleaming silver Centurions as they filed from their own ships. "All clear," Starbuck started to stand, but Apollo's arm shot out and pushed him back down. "Wait." Another two Centurions walked past the human fighter blissfully unaware that their mortal enemy lay a few metrons from them. When all was clear Apollo pressed the button that would open that hatch. Starbuck withdrew his pistol and jumped down onto the hanger deck, his pistol sweeping the hanger floor searching for targets. Apollo landed beside him also doing the same. "Ok then, lets get this over with." The Warriors ran across the deck to a small room. They slipped in side and came to a giant hatch cover. They pulled it up and looked down into the room below them. A ladder lead down into a bright white room devoid of any fixtures or personality, the harsh white lights and blank walls gave it the look of a sterile environment. At the bottom of the ladder was the door to the computer banks, but in front of the door was a Centurion armed with his customary rifle. "He only has to look up," Apollo whispered. Starbuck looked at his friend and nodded sympathetically. Apollo swung himself over the lip of the hatch and onto the ladder. He started his decent down the ladder. Starbuck followed suit and soon both Warriors were vulnerably open half way down the ladder. It may have been programmed into the Centurion to look up every now and then, or it could have been a minute noise. But whatever the reason it looked up and saw both Warriors climbing down the ladder. Wordlessly it pulled its rifle up and opened fire on it. Apollo caught the movement of the Centurion; he whipped out his pistol and also opened fire. Starbuck as well joined the firefight. The red blasts of laser energy burned jagged carters in the walls around the Colonial Warriors; there own wild shots scarred the wall behind the Centurion. Apollo pulled his finger off the trigger and steadied himself. He fired one blast into the chest of the Centurion and nodded his head in satisfaction when the silver robot crumpled to the ground. Both Warriors slid down the ladder, jumped over the fallen form and into the computer room. Starbuck threw his pistol to Apollo and started planting charges all over the blinking machines, whilst Apollo stood half in the room and half out, one pistol aimed up the ladder and one at the door on the other end of the room. "Come on that's enough, lets go." "Wait, one more." Starbuck pulled out the last charge. As he was activating it the door on the other side of the room opened and a Centurion half stepped into the room. Before it could even register the two Colonials it was blasted off its feet and into the other Centurions lined up behind, causing all of them to sprawl into an untidy heap in on the ground. Apollo passed Starbuck's pistol back to him. Starbuck took his pistol and eagerly started to climb the ladder. Apollo was not far behind. Just before the two Warriors made it to the hatch the Centurions got back to their feet and ran into the white room. They raised their rifles and began to fire. A close blast caused Apollo to lose his grip, a little black box fell out of his brown tunic. "No," he screamed, reaching out for it. "Leave it," Starbuck yelled as he pushed the hatch up and jumped out onto the hanger deck again. Apollo came out of the hatch pursued by angry red bolts of energy. He turned and slammed the hatch shut, stood back and fired one shot into the locking mechanism, effectively sealing it. "That ought to hold them..." The whooping of a klaxon interrupted the rest of his sentence. "That isn't for us, is it?" Starbuck asked peering around a corner and watching hundreds of Centurions quick timing it to their fighters. Apollo joined him and watched the commotion. "No, not us, the Vipers from Galactica. They must have just entered scanner range. Quick we can get out while they launch all of the fighters." Both Warriors scrambled across the hanger and into their ship. Starbuck closed the hatch and Apollo warmed up the engines. "What are we going to do with out the signal beacon?" Starbuck asked as he strapped himself into the uncomfortable seat. "We'll think of something I am sure," Apollo replied with a confidence that he did not feel. The Cylon Raiders next to them rose off the hanger floor and started to head out of the Basestar, Starbuck and Apollo were not far behind. *** "Now remember if you see a blinking red dot, do not shoot as it is Starbuck and Apollo," Boomer reminded all of the Viper pilots as they flew over the horizon of a large gas planet. Ahead of them was the Cylon Basestar; fighters were already slowly starting to exit the large ship. The Cylon fighters formed up and flew towards the Colonial Vipers, the two opposing sides closed the distance rapidly. The human pilots silently praying to themselves. The metal Centurions sat mute and dumb as they got closer and closer. Somewhere towards the rear of the gleaming array, of close to 200 ships, Starbuck and Apollo waited to make the dash to the Galactica. Already their charges had detonated rendering the massive Basestar blind the Galactica's approach. *** The cool wind blew across the young pilot's face as he came up from the tunnel. He looked to his left and nodded at the Marine guard. As usual the stone-faced Marine did not respond. The pilot turned around and went into a door on the right. Inside was the small primitive kitchen; there were photos of jets, fighters, and other such memorabilia decorating the walls. All of the Air Force pilots on the base shared the kitchen. Some of the guys got their food off base and others had their wives make food. But for a young unattached bachelor like Capt. Luke Fraser, he had to eat out of vending machines or go off base. "Luke!" Luke turned to the sound of his name and smiled. Sitting at the only table in the room looking over paperwork was Capt. Jeremy Price USAF. "Jeremy, how are you doing? Are you still working on the X-plane side of things?" "I was, but I was transferred." "Really, here?" "Yup, I am working with you in the Space Projects." "Well," Luke stood astounded. For there usually is only a select few Air Force personnel that get inducted into the space program and rarely can people ask to get transferred into the Space Projects. "That's great, it will be good to have a familiar face hanging around." "So what kind of food do they supply you with up here?" He stood up and began to head for the fridge. "I am famished." Luke gave a chuckle. "You still have not changed, hungry as usual. Come on this way." The two pilots walked towards a door at the other end of the room. Inside, there were several vending machines. Luke slipped some quarters in and received a 2-week-old sandwich vacuum-packed to seal in the 'freshness.' "Good Lord!" Jeremy let out a gasp of mock horror. "I was hoping the food on this side of things would be better." "Yeah right and pigs fly, the Air Force is the same at every X-Project, vending machines for all." Jeremy bought himself a sandwich and headed back into the other room. Grabbing some chairs the pilots settled down to eat their lunches and catch up. The last time the two friends had seen each other was the summer after their high school graduations. It was 2004, that summer they went to Europe and then back home to the 141st Gettysburg Re-enactment. All too soon though the battle ended. The last thing that either pilot heard was they had both been inducted into the Air Force Fighter pilot program, at different times. Jeremy made it into the X-Plane program shortly after he graduated. Luke tried to follow but instead was assigned to the Space Project. "Hey, what is the Space Program about?" Jeremy asked interrupting Luke's long-winded story of how he tried to follow into the X-Plane Projects. "What have you heard?" "Well, some say that you guys are building missile defense lasers, others talk about spaceships that fly through space like some kind of half-baked Star Trek idea." He caught his friend's grin. "Am I close?" Luke's smile betrayed the fact that he is not. "No, we do not have any missile defense lasers, or half-baked Star Trek ships. What we do have instead is," he paused and stood up, "Well, follow me." Luke threw his stuff away and headed out the door with Jeremy following close behind. The pilots give the Marine a nod and headed down into a dark tube. At the end of the tube was an elevator, Luke stepped in and let Jeremy in. He then grabbed the ID card hanging off a pocket on his dark blue BDU blouse. Next to the control panel there was a slot for the card. Luke pushed the card in until there was a slight click. The panel gave a happy beep and the doors closed. The control panel lights came on and Luke punched a button labeled 'H'. A short ride later the doors opened up and both pilots stepped out into a massive underground hanger. It stretched on for almost 1 kilometer. Down on the hanger floor were 10 of the United States Air Force's newest fighter, the X-55. Along one wall were massive machine shops filled with sparks and the shouts of half deaf men. There were technicians sitting at mobile computer desks that were hooked up to some of the fighters. Men were scrambling all over the ships peeking into open panels and adjusting things at the command of the computer technicians. "Well," Luke said as he turned and looked at Jeremy. Jeremy gave a whistle and started to head down to the hanger floor. Luke followed behind. Once on the hanger floor Jeremy asked his first question. "What the hell are they?" he pointed at one of the X-55s. "Those are the first attempt at a space fighter." Luke walked towards one of them Jeremy following close behind. As they got closer Luke recalled his first sight of the fighters. It bore a striking resemblance of what a P-38 Lightning and helicopter's offspring would look like. Altogether the description was not that far off. The cockpit looked like a streamlined helicopter body. Attached to the sides were little wing stubs. Towards the rear of the helicopter body were intakes. Leading off of the intakes were the twin tail booms. "These, known as the X-55 Space Fighter, are Americas newest weapon." Luke reached out and put his hand on the side of the ship and smiled at his buddy. "Want to hop up and check out the cockpit?" he asked. "Bet your ass I do," Jeremy answered back, stepping closer to the fighter. Luke pulled out the ladder that was stowed in the hull of the ship. Reaching into the ladder compartment he groped for a small button that would open the cockpit canopy. His fumbling was rewarded with a hiss of air and the whine of the electric hoists. The canopy came up and Jeremy scrambled up into the cockpit. He looked around in awe. "What does that do?" he asked pointing at a panel in front of him. "That's th..." "Capt. Fraser," a voice interrupted Luke's monolog. Behind him was a young Airman holding a brown package. "Yes." "Sir." He pushed the brown folder into the pilot's hands. Then turned around and strode away back through the hanger towards the main office. "Thank you," Luke yelled to the retreating figure, he turned away and began to read. "What is it?" Jeremy asked for the second time. "Huh," Luke looked up not hearing him the first time he asked. "Oh it says that they have assigned you to train on the X-55." "Well, great." Jeremy said jubilantly. "You can teach me all of the tricks of the trade." "Well just enough to get you familiar, I am not going to teach you to be just like me. That would take all the competition out of it." Luke grinned and beckoned him to follow. "Come on lets get you your gear." He yelled walking toward the supply office. *** "Pull out of it!" Luke yelled into his lip mike. "You're too low!" "I am fine, just a bit more," Jeremy calmly replied back. "Just stay with me." The reddish walls of the desert canyon raced past. Rocks that could turn an X-55 into scrap metal raced by alarmingly close. "Stay on target," Jeremy intoned as he dove lower into the canyon. "You're getting too close to the walls!" Luke yelled into the mike, but it was too late, Jeremy's X-55 hooked a rock and slammed into the wall at better than Mach 6. Luke watched in horror as his friend's once sleek fighter turn into a fireball that consumed all debris. "Damn him." He looked up in time to see a rock wall bearing down on his ship. There was no time to react, Luke braced for impact as his fighter screamed into the red rock wall. The canopy went black, the instrument panels all died. In his ears he heard the voice of one of the simulation operators. "Well, nice work, more black smudges to chronicle all your accidents. Would you like us to start putting dates on all of them?" There was the muted sound of laughing. "Too low," Jeremy's voice came over the radio nonchalantly. "No kidding," Luke replied pushing the button to raise the simulator canopy. As it came open he could see Jeremy clambering out of his own simulator cockpit. Jeremy got out and walked over to Luke's simulator smiling sheepishly. "Better luck next time, eh." "That's the third time that you have managed to slam yourself into the wall of the canyon." Luke admonished him letting a little annoyance and exhaustion creep into his voice. "Come on let's go over the mission again. Maybe then you can see that you can not go that low on this canyon." "Hey you smashed up too." "Yeah, but I was distracted by you stupidity." The pilots walked out of the Simulator room and down a long passageway, as they were going past the Flight Ops Room, Col. Jim Brickman came stuck his head out. "Fraser!" he roared. "My office NOW!" "Crap. What have I done now?" Luke groaned. "Good luck," Jeremy chuckled as he watched Luke trudge towards the Colonel's office. "Bring Price with you." The Colonel bellowed from within his office. "Damn," Jeremy hissed under his breath. Inside the office the entire back wall filled with achievements and old photos of the Colonel progressing through his military career. On the top of the wall there was an old academy photo and several achievements. Then below that there was him standing beside an old F-16. Then a newer one of him with a squadron of men and two F-22 Raptors in the background, then the last one showed him standing next to an X-55. One sidewall was covered with old military propaganda posters form World War I and World War II. The rest of the office was covered with papers pertaining to the X-55 project. In the rear of the room in front of the wall with the photographs was his desk. On it, a small laptop and a model of the X-55, other then that the desktop was bare. "Capt. Fraser, reporting as ordered." Luke stood stiffly at attention. "Capt. Price, reporting as ordered." Jeremy as well, stood ramrod straight. "You know why I ride you hard?" He stared at Luke and pointed an unlit cigar at him. "Because you're the best, that's why." He leaned back in his chair. "At ease." Luke relaxed a bit and wondered where this one was going. The Colonel flipped up the lid on the laptop and punched some keys. "I ride you hard because I want you to be the squadron commander when and if this squadron ever becomes active duty. It says here," he stabbed at the screen on his laptop with the unlit cigar. "That you and Mr. Price are further ahead then that others in all the training curriculum." He looked at both of them. "Why is that?" "I..uh...dunno..sir." The question had caught both pilots off guard. "Err...late night studying," Jeremy spoke up. "Well then hotshots..." He laid a paper on the desk in front of the pilots. "The President wants some pictures of the moon. Some real close ones. This will also give us a chance to test the light drive. You and Price check out your X-55's and get your asses up there." He turned away. "Dismissed." Both pilots scurried out of the office and walked down the hallway. They went into the locker room and got into their blue jumpsuits. They strapped on a miniature flight computer, which was the size of a Palm Pilot, onto their legs and the various other accoutrements that went with them when they flew into space. The flight computer was a back up, incase of failure, to the one already installed on the X-55. Both grabbed their helmets and walked into the briefing room. Covering one wall was a giant video monitor; it showed the rout that they were going to fly to the moon. Then the exact information the flight computer needed for the jump to Jupiter. Luke slipped a zip-disk into a computer terminal and saved the flight data to it. He ejected to the disk and called up their call signs for the flight. Once they had all of the minor details down they went up to the master control room. Master Control sat above the hanger suspended from the ceiling; the massive widows gave a massive panoramic view of the hanger. Luke handed the disk to the Flight Operations Officer. The F.O.O plugged the disk into the computer terminal and transmitted all of the data on it to the Navigation computers on two of the fighters sitting on the hanger floor. "Your fighters Nav. Computers are loaded, sir," The Flight Officer said as he turned from the control panel and handed the disk back to Luke. They then descended down on to the hanger floor. "This should be interesting." Jeremy pointed out as they approached the fighters. "Why should it, we both have soloed." Luke looked at him. "By the book ok. No fancy stuff, we take the pictures do the jump and come home." "No fun." Jeremy grinned as he walked over to his fighter and started his preflight. Luke started his slow walk around his fighter. Before he even jumped in he wanted to have a once over, just to make sure. "What s'matter, Sir." The gravely voice of Gus 'Ginty' Macintyre the crew chief asked, interrupting Luke's thoughts. Luke glanced at Ginty and glowered, he had to get the only ship with a crotchety crew chief. Luke climbed up into the fighter's cockpit, and started to put on the harness. Ginty got up and stood on the boarding ladder, he grabbed one of the straps and pulled it tight. "Hey, that's too tight," Luke protested but Ginty a seasoned chief ignored the young pilots protests. He had seen his fair share of young hotshot pilots that thought they knew everything; he continued to pull the straps tight. "Just remember to bring my ship back with out a scratch this time, OK," Ginty stated as he gave Luke his helmet, in the process missing the scarlet flash of embarrassment that flashed across the pilots face. Luke recalled his second solo flight; it was the flight he had gotten to close to a rock and ripped a wing off the fighter. He pushed the memory away and concentrated on the pre-flight procedure. Fuel Pump. On Power. On Navigation. Check Communications. Check Gyros. On Life Support. On A low-pitched whine slowly built up as the generator slowly came on line. There was a comforting low warbling noise coming from the nose of the fighter as the gyros warmed up and the Nav. Computer came on-line. On the screen in front of Luke a message popped up and confirmed all systems go. Luke did a last once over on the pre-ignition side of the card. He flipped the plastic laminated card over and started down the engine start up list. Fuel Flow. At 10% Generator. 100% Power Starter Breaker. On Warning Lights. None Area Clear. Clear Canopy down. Check Ignition. Go The engines lit up with a roar as the starter ignited the highly combustible fuel. Luke closed the throttle down to idle and adjusted the fuel flow to normal. He looked over at Jeremy and saw that he had his engines up and running as well. He gave a nod and spoke into his mike. "Go." Luke nodded and spoke into the mike boom, simultaneously pushing the transmit button with my thumb. "Hanger control, this is Lunar Flight requesting permission for taxi." A female voice came back. "Lunar Flight, you are cleared to taxi." "Roger, Lunar Flight cleared for taxi." Both pilots pushed the throttle foreword a notch and manipulated the controls. The fighters taxied away from their parking places and onto the runway. "Control, Lunar flight requesting permission to take off." "Roger, Lunar flight, winds are calm, at 10 from the East, no eyes in the sky. You are cleared for take off. Have a good flight." "Thank you control," Luke replied happy that there were no enemy satellites watching the area, for if there were then the flight would be delayed until they left. He pushed the throttle forward and rocketed down the hanger floor. The hanger bay doors, which remained closed at all times except for take offs and landings slammed open in with a loud bang, which penetrated the roaring of the engines and the padding of the helmets. Daylight came streaming in, both pilots pulled down their sun visors at the sudden transition from the semi dark cavern like hanger to the white blinding light of the hot Arizona desert. Luke pulled back on the stick and aimed his fighter up towards the sky. He looked behind the fighter and saw Jeremy taking up position behind like a good wingman. Within seconds the fighters had passed through the lower layers of the atmosphere and soon were out of the atmosphere in space. "Setting Auto-Nav now," Luke said into the mike. His hands went to the now familiar switches and buttons that set the Auto-Nav. The Auto-Nav once engaged would fly the fighter on the pre-set course already loaded into the navigation system. "Roger," Jeremy came back. "Auto-Nav set." The flight would take about 2 hours for the little fighters to get to the moon. Luke settled back and tried to find a comfortable spot on the hard seat. He then pulled a small Palm Pilot out of his pocket; it was similar to the one strapped to his leg but made for civilians. He called up an E-book and proceeded to read the 2 hours away. 45 minutes later he vowed to have the Ginty put some padding into the seats. Jeremy's voice came flooding into Luke's head. "You know they need padding in these seats." "I was just thinking the same thing." "Really, you know they say great minds think alike." "Sure, I have the great mind. You just have a sore ass and wanted to bitch about it." Luke looked over, grinning, and saw Jeremy flip a one-fingered salute. "Careful I am your commanding officer." As the moon got closer and closer, each pilot began to run a systems check to make sure all was green. They then took the Auto Nav off. Once on the surface of the moon Luke brought the sleek fighter down and skimmed the surface of the lunar landscape. This is what he had been training for; he pulled up and over a ridge and found himself floating several meters above the surface of the moon. The ridge was actually the lip of a crater. "Wow." "Yeah, no kidding." "Standby to start photo run....Engage cameras." "Camera on." The Apollo 11 site slipped below the two fighters, the faded flag wavered slightly from their passing. They were then roaring along the surface of the moon heading towards a canyon. "Here we go for the canyon run." Luke pulled the throttle back a bit simultaneously pulling back on the stick. The fighter arched up and then dove into the canyon. "Stick with me, no showboating." "Wilco." Jeremy arched down into the canyon behind his friend and took up position above and behind. The gray walls of the canyon raced past. The scanners, using charts made during the early NASA days were updating both pilots constantly of the terrain ahead. The camera suspending in below the nose of the craft was getting an awesome look at the moon in all of its glory. Up ahead there was a pinch in the canyon. Feeling reckless Luke continued straight for the narrow portion of the canyon. He opened the throttle up some and felt the push of the increased thrust. "Hey, I thought that this was going to be by the book," Jeremy squawked when he saw what his friend was about to attempt. But Luke did not answer him; instead he lined the fighter up with the center of the pinch point. Just before the pinch he rolled the fighter on its side and sailed through to the other side of the canyon. "Show off." "Just showing who is better at this. I think that this is all the President wants, shutting down camera." Luke pulled the stick towards himself and angled it to the side of the cockpit. The fighter banked up and away from the surface of the moon and out into open space. "All right, now all we have to do is a jump test. Lock in coordinates to Jupiter." Jeremy groaned. "Man, these Jump Drives are good, we don't have to test them. Besides it is an hour trip to Jupiter and an hour and a half back." "What's the matter hot date?" "Yes, as a matter of a fact I do, one of the nurses in the infirmary." Jeremy finished off answering his friend's unasked question. "I promise we will be back in time, ready?" "Go," Jeremy sighed. Both pilots simultaneously squeezed the jump button affixed to the throttle control lever. The engine exploded out enough power to boost the tiny fighters to 10 times the speed of light. *** The two fighters emerged on the light side of Jupiter in time to witness what no Earth pilot had ever seen before. "Good God. What the hell is that?" Luke yelled into his lip mike. He pulled his fighter up and away from the giant ship. "Turn on your camera." "On," Jeremy responded. The giant ship looked like two flying saucers had joined together at their centers. There was a large cavern like hanger on the upper deck and on the lower deck. From these cave like hangers hundreds of tiny pinpricks of light emitted. "Hey, my radar is picking up close to 100 individual contacts. Whatever that thing is doing it seems to be launching fighters or something," Jeremy reported. "Picking up contacts coming from the other side of Jupiter, both sides have engaged. Computer reading multiple explosions. Whomever those people are, they're in one hell of a big fight." Then another ship came out of light speed behind the massive flying saucer. Angry red-hot beams of laser fire slammed into the flying saucer like ship. The newer ship looked chunky but sleek at the same time. The Earth pilots could see what looked like two landing bays jutting out on either side of the ship. At the back were massive engines that were glowing with white-hot energy. By now the saucer ship had started to return fire, but it was already wounded from the opening fire of the smaller ship. Fires began to break out in places around the ship; a great chunk of the top saucer exploded off and blew up in an astounding display of fireworks. The saucer ship descended away from the small carrier like vessel. Then the rest of it exploded in an even bigger and more astounding display of fireworks. "Uh-Oh, looks like we have attracted some attention. We better get out of here." "We can't. The engines are still re-charging. There is nothing we can do but fight it out." "Six vs. two is not the kind of odds I like, Luke." "Well there is nothing we can do about it. So power up your cannons and let's show these aliens that they are dealing with the United States of America." "Have you thought of the political implications of this?" "It's kill or be killed my friend. Those boys don't look like they are coming to ask for help." Luke flipped up a red switch and watched as the power levels for the twin laser cannons, installed on either side of the ship just below the cockpit, came up to full power. "Follow my lead. Watch the Rules of Engagement, as soon as one of them shoots, we can fire." The six fighters had no idea that their ship had been obliterated by the Galactica and for as long as they lived they would try to fulfill their orders, destroy the two ships hanging around the edge of the battlefield. They formed up and began their runs on the two ships. The lead Raider opened fire and then disappeared in a dazzling explosion of debris that showered the other fighters. "Splash one," Luke shouted jubilantly as he slammed the stick over to avoid a collision with the remaining ships. He looked behind him and saw that Jeremy went the other way and had picked up two on his tail. Luke dove after his friend, barely registering the explosions that buffeted his ship as the remaining three Cylon Raiders jockeyed for a position behind his own fighter. "Jeremy, you got two on your tail." "Geeze, thanks for pointing that one out for me." Luke ignored his friend's sarcastic comment and closed in on the lead ship. "On three I want you to break left...three...two....one...break left, break left." Luke yelled into his mike. He squeezed the trigger and sent several blasts into the Cylon Raider, let the nose drop and fired into the other one. Both exploded showering the closest fighters with debris; Luke then flew through the explosions the three Raiders behind him still locked on, in hot pursuit. "Splash two, and three." "Looks like you have picked up your own tail," Jeremy pointed out as he looped round and observed his friend plight. "I could use a little help," Luke retorted as he whipped his ship through some evasive maneuvers. "On the way." Jeremy lined up his sights on the last Raider in the line of ships and destroyed it with two quick blasts from his cannons. "Splash One, for me." The second one in line darted away and tried to get around behind Jeremy. He anticipated the move, countered it. "Splash two." "Ahh, hit, I am hit." Jeremy's body went cold at the sound of his friends scream. "I am hit, fighter out of control......" Static broke up the transmission. "..Trying too.....can't.........power........." Jeremy looked round the cosmos for his friend, finally spotting him spinning out of control still followed by the last fighter. He pulled his fighter round and dove down towards the last fighter. The red blasts of energy did not deter the Cylon ship. Instead the Centurions inside put on more speed and continued to fire at the damaged fighter. This rock hard determination to finish the ship off brought on their destruction. Luke slammed the stick the other way as he fought to control the spiral he was in. Warning lights and alarms were going off everywhere. The entire damage control panel was lit up like a Christmas tree. Slowly, the fighter slowed its spiral; Luke surveyed the damage to the fighter. The canopy where the alien laser creased the side of his ship was darkened black and melted into the cockpit. The HUD was a twisted mass of plastic and metal, radio situated above his knees seemed to be working. Above that, the power panel was dead, shorted out. The main computer screen was working still but was displaying nothing. The engine start controls were fused into a melted pile of scrap. In fact every panel and system that was on the right side of the cockpit seemed to be destroyed. "Luke, are you okay?" Jeremy asked afraid of what the response would be. "Yeah, I am fine, but the ship is pretty busted up. Can you check the damage on my starboard side?" A double click of the mike was all he got. He watched his friend's fighter fly up and over him on to the heavily damaged side of the fighter. The main computer screen came on-line and Luke initiated a systems check. "You're looking pretty bad. It looks like fuel cells three and four are destroyed." "That confirms why they are not responding," Luke said as he watched the list of non-responsive systems pile up. "You might have lost an oxygen cell as well." "Yeah oxy cell three is not responding. But the others are ok. I have plenty of oxygen. But the Nav computer is out and the Jump Drive is listed as non-responsive." Jeremy quickly computed the math in his head. "You're looking at a several year long trip home." "I would never survive." Luke paused. "Can you radio command, actually belay that, passive sensors picking up three inbound tangos." "Got them." "Don't fire. Maintain defensive posture." "Defensive posture? What the hell does that mean?" "Aggressively protect me, retard." The radio crackled and then came to life. "Unidentified ships maintain communications silence. Power down weapons and follow us." With that statement three sleek red and white fighters streaked past the two X-55s. "Did they just speak English?" *** Boomer lined his Viper up on the lead Cylon Raider. He waited for the range to close. The enemy fighter opened fire. The blasts went wide. Boomer squeezed the trigger. The firsts two shots missed. The weapons computer compensated. The Raider disappeared in a ball of flame. The huge cloud of Cylon Raiders went on and on. The Viper squadrons pierced through the heart of the formation like an avenging war arrow. The two clouds of fighters passed and pulled away, like a cavalry officer leading the men on a charge. Boomer whipped his viper around and led the Colonial squadrons back into the fray. This time instead of cutting through the Cylon squadrons, the Colonials stayed. "Boomer, break right." Boomer jinxed his fighter to the right; he glanced out the left side and saw the flashes and explosions of near misses. "I got them. Hang on." Boomer led his fighter through a bewildering array of maneuvers, but still enemy laser fire crept slowly closer to the frail Viper. "Come on, get them," he yelled in frustration. "Just hang on, wait....wait......Got him, I got him. You're clear." Boomer sighed with relief and pulled the nose of his Viper up. A Colonial Viper flashed by followed closely by a Cylon Raider. Boomer nosed back down and lined up behind the Raider, only to see the Viper it was chasing disappear in a blinding explosion. The weapons computer locked on. Boomer squeezed the trigger, and twin blasts of red energy vaporized the enemy fighter. "The Galactica has arrived. Boy is she tearing into that Basestar." "Concentrate on our job," a female voice came over com. Boomer turned towards the Galactica and watched with mild interest the death of the Basestar. By now the Colonial fighters had finished most of the Cylon fighters. The remaining Colons were heading on suicide runs on the Galactica, followed by the ruthless Colonials. "Hey Boomer, my scanner is picking up two ships on the outer edges of the scan envelope. Do you think they could be ours?" "I don't know. Let's go in for a closer look." "Right with you, sir." "Same here." Boomer tried to remember whom the voice belonged to. Evidently it was one of the new Viper pilots for he could not place a face or name to the pilot. "Hey, I am picking up some radio wave emanating from the two ships. They are a kind not used by us anymore. I think I can patch us in hang on." There came a crackling noise followed by a long hiss... "Aggressively protect me, retard.".....The radio faded out and the hiss returned. Boomer shrugged and keyed the transmit button. "Unidentified ships maintain communications silence. Power down weapons and follow us." The three Vipers roared past two ungainly looking fighters. "Picking up massive amounts of damage on one of the ships. Looks like his engine is dead." The radio channel crackled to life again. "Hey Jeremy, I am going for a engine start. Back off a bit in case of explosion." "Come on now you don't really think there will be an explosion, do you?" "I don't know, I just don't know." Boomer pulled his ship up and level with the undamaged fighter, he peered across the space separating the cockpits, looking back at him was a very human face. Boomer jerked back and then nudged in a little closer. But the other human was watching the damaged fighter. "Jolly, can you scan the people in these fighters." "Let's see they are...human. That doesn't sound right. Let me try again." "Don't bother Jolly, they are human." "But that is impossible, there are no other humans, unless they are from..." He paused. "Earth." By now Luke had his engine working. He slowly worked the engine throttle up. The main computer was now displaying the digital engine stats. Everything seemed to be under the red. "Best I can hope for," he said to the damaged fighter. Jeremy watched frantically. Luke had his engine going but they were still a ways off from the space carrier. He could not contact Earth and he had no idea what was going on. Again Jeremy glanced at Luke's ship. "Luke, TAC 2." Jeremy quickly said over the comm. "Silence," The alien voice thundered over the comm. The alien started to say more but was cut off when Jeremy switched to TActical Communications Channel 2, a secure encrypted frequency set-aside for the most top-secret communications. "Luke." "Yeah." "Good, you got the meaning. I have an idea. I am going to jump out of here and then get the rest of the squadron flying. We can come back try to make a show of force and then negotiate to get you back." "That is your idea. What makes you so sure that it will work? They could just blow you and the rest of the squadron out of the sky. Then Earth would be at war with an interstellar race of peoples that are so far ahead of us on the technology spectrum that we must seem like people from the stone age." Luke paused. "But that is better then what I came up with, so, go for it." "Initiating Jump sequence. Co-ordinates locked in. Engines charged. I am ready for to jump. Good luck. Over and out." Jeremy hit the Jump button and felt the fighter explode past the speed of light. He shifted in his seat, pushed all thought of what might be happening to Luke and concentrated on what he was going to tell the Colonel. Boomer watched the energy signatures on the undamaged fighter spike past what his computer defined as critical. He looked away from his computer and witnessed the fighter disappear in a white streak. "Jolly, what just happened?" "I don't know. That was some energy spike though." "Yeah I'll say. The other one does not seem to be doing anything. We will ask him what happened when we land." "Roger." "Galactica Control, we are inbound. We are escorting an unknown fighter that is extremely damaged. Requesting a landing beacon." "Roger that, you are cleared for Landing Bay Alpha. Damaged fighter to proceed straight into quarantine. Welcome home." Boomer smiled and switched to the alien frequency. "Listen up. We are going to be landing so extend your gear and follow me in. Once we are down, you are to taxi directly to the Quarantine Bay. A Deck Guide will direct you in the right direction. Follow his directions." "Ok," came back the reply. Luke slowed his fighter down and let the lead alien vessel fly in front of him. The ship flew straight into the bay, nosed up, and slammed down onto the deck. "Seems, easy enough." Luke lined up and headed in. He slowly pulled back the throttle until he was gliding ahead on his momentum. As he neared the bay, Luke flipped up a yellow switch cover and activated the landing gear. There came a low rumble and then a muted hum. Three green lights situated above the gear switch came on, indicating gear down and locked. As he pulled up the nose Luke hit the forward thrusters. The fighter slowed down even more. It flew into the bright landing bay and slammed down on the deck. The speed brakes popped out and Luke slammed the engine thrust into reverse. He was jerked forward as the massive engine screamed out reverse power slowing the fighter down to taxi speed. "This is the Deck Guide, please follow me to the Quarantine Bay," a voice came over the comm. Luke looked around. He picked up an orange clad figure running towards the fighter holding two light sticks. Luke taxied forward towards him. The man gestured toward a bay sitting off to the side of the rest of the hanger. Luke taxied in; the door slowly came down and slammed shut with a resounding slam. He shut the engine down using the back up flight computer strapped to his leg, for the engine shut down switch was fused into metal slag. As the whine of the engine died away silence prevailed through out the featureless hanger. On the wall in front of the fighter there were several lighted windows with clusters of faces peering into the hanger. But the glass was too reflective for Luke to see anything other then that. He reached for the cockpit release. The whine of the cockpit motor was the only noise in the hanger. Adama turned to Boomer. "You're sure they are human?" "Yes sir, the scanners confirmed it twice." Adama turned away and watched the alien clamber out of his cockpit. The alien was dressed in a blue uniform; strapped to one leg was a small black box. Hanging from the torso was a myriad array of wires and hoses. Slung low, Colonial style, there was some sort of pistol. The pilot's helmet was oddly rounded, all white except for some writing on the leading edge. Covering the pilot's eyes was a shinny gold visor, which retracted when the he pulled on a tab on the front of the helmet. "Start the de-contamination. I want to speak with him when he is out." "Yes sir." Boomer turned to a white-coated technician. "Start the procedure." The technician wordlessly started working the computer; soon a fine billowing white mist filled the room. *** Earth filled Jeremy's view screen as he dove down towards the surface, passing through the ozone and breaking into clear blue sky. Below stretched out in all directions was the west coast of the United States. Already the base was on full alert when Jeremy streaked in and set the fighter down. When he taxied to a halt, a crowd of people had formed around his fighter all were tense and expecting to hear the worst. Only Col. Brickman knew what really had happened. "Get the camera, I want those pictures downloaded, NOW!" yelled the irate Colonel as he pushed through the crowd. "The rest of you, get those fighters prepared for launch." The Colonel's anger was legendary throughout the base. When he was mad people scurried. This was no different. The crowd disappeared faster then if tear gas was used. All except for Sergeant Macintyre and his crew, Col. Brickman saw them and set them to getting the shuttle ready for launch. Jeremy climbed down from his fighter, handed his helmet to a waiting ground crewman, pulled off his gloves and walked over to the Colonel. "Sir." "Come with me, we are going to the secure briefing room." The secure briefing room was on the bottom floor of the immense base. It was secure from all kinds of electronic and passive bugs. It was so secure that if a nuclear weapon hit was detonated in the hanger the room would stay intact and save whomever happened to be inside. The Colonel sat down and punched a button on the built in control panel in the table. A panel slid aside to reveal a plasma TV. Several officers then flooded into the room. Jeremy, sitting at the front of the room got a good look at all of them, yet recognized only Colonel Daniel Morgan, who worked up in the Intelligence section. The others were a mix of Army, Air Force, and Navy uniforms. They all took their seats and Colonel Brickman started the film taken from Jeremy's fighter. The officers watched in silence as the images of the moon flashed across the monitors. There were several exclamations of surprise at Luke flying through the canyon. The moon disappeared and then the battle between the Carrier and the Saucer ship. The officers leaned forward and watched the battle with interest. Pens came out and soon the only noise in the room was the scratch of pens. The film was paused at regular intervals so as an Air Force artist could get some good sketches of the ships. At last the film ended with Jeremy's landing at the base. "Well there you have it gentlemen," Col. Brickman said as he stood up. "We have one pilot captured and only one squadron of half-trained pilots to stand up against at least 200 fighters." "The President will want to see that film. If I can get a copy to show him." "You'll have it before you leave. Now, Capt. Price, if you cold give these gentlemen your tactical knowledge of these fighters you encountered." "Sir." Jeremy nodded and stood up; he took a deep breath and began his monologue of what happened and how he countered it. Two hours later he sunk into bed, he could do nothing now, all was up to the people above his pay grade. *** The President of the United States leaned foreword in his chair, throwing a thin pile of paper onto the conference table. He leaned back and clasped his fingers in front of him in the shape of a steeple. "I am very disappointed with you gentlemen. Do you realize what has happened?" At the other end of the table General Allen Arnold shifted in his seat. He started to speak but the President cut him off. "Two of our pilots, ignore - IGNORE the rules of engagement. Potentially getting this country, and not to mention this WORLD into an intergalactic war. Something that we as a people are wholly unprepared for. We can't even defend this world, for Christ's sake. And now you tell me that one of those pilots has been captured. He could be venting all information he has on this planet. We could be invaded at any moment." The anger was evident in the Presidents voice when he finished, his face was red and he was sweating. "Sir, we only attacked one of the Alien races. The other one captured our pilot. As well as that the pilots did technically follow the rules of engagement, they were fired on first." "Great! We have jumped into an intergalactic civil war. That makes me feel a lot better. General, I would remove you from command of the Space Projects but I need you. You're the only one who knows what really is going on. So I am leaving you in command. Now as for this rescue attempt, I will not allow that to happen. Your Chief of Flight Operations this uh..." He sifted through some papers. "Colonel Jim Brickman is going up in one shuttle and four fighters for escort. You will not launch the whole squadron and you will not use nuclear tipped missiles. This is a diplomatic mission, one in which you are going to negotiate the release of our pilot and try to smooth relations with them." "But, Sir, if they attack then we could lose the entire group, then we would be down by four pilots and one important officer." "Those are my orders General, carry them out. You are dismissed." The President turned in his chair, stood up and walked out of the room. *** Luke awoke in a strange bed, he groaned and sat up. "Oh God that was some night on the town." He sat up and rubbed his forehead, hoping to relive the pounding ache. "Who left the lights on?" He looked around, down either side of a long rectangular room were bunks laid out in precise military fashion. Next to his bunk was a chair. Laid out on the chair were his dark blue BDUs and his belt and pistol. He put the covers aside and got up. "What the hell is this?" Then it hit him, the events that had transpired over the past couple of hours, the fighting then the landing on the carrier. The white mist. Luke grabbed his belt off the chair and slid the battered 1911 Colt out of the holster; he dropped the magazine and found it was still fully loaded. He pulled on the BDUs and strapped the computer to his leg and the Colt around his waist. The door hissed open when he got close to it, Luke stepped out into the hallway, relieved to find it devoid of life. He ran down the corridor and came to a junction. "Left or right, the question man has pondered for years." Luke went left; as he was going down the hall he heard voices. Looking around for a place to hide he spied a door at the far end of the hall. As he sprinted the voices became louder. There was writing on the door but Luke ran through the door before he could read it. Boomer stared at Starbuck over the cards. "Are you going to do anything?" "I'm thinking, just wait." Boomer rolled his eyes and sat back. "Come on I want to play, not sit and wait," Jolly wined. "Yeah Starbuck you're holding up the game," Bojay pitched in. "Ok... Ok. I'm in. While you're at it, I'll take two." "Finally!" Jolly huffed while he tossed two cards, face down in front of Starbuck. Just as Starbuck was picking up the cards, a blue suited figure dashed into the room. His back was to the card players. He was breathing heavily. He looked like someone on the run. "Umm...Can we help you with something?" Starbuck inquired. The figure whirled around, his eyes widened when he saw the four Warriors sitting at the table. "Son of a bitch." Luke stared at the four Warriors. "Hey I..uh..ummm I am looking for the landing bays. Can you direct me there?" "Hey you're the pilot that we escorted in aren't you?" Boomer asked as he recognized the gear hanging off the pilot. "Yeah that's me." Luke threw up his hands all thoughts of escape were shelved as he looked at the Colonial Warriors. They were relaxed, gambling for an immense pile of gold, and they seemed harmless. He felt more like a guest then a prisoner. "What's going on? Where am I?" "How about you come and have a seat. We'll answer your questions, but first how about a game of Pyramid?" Starbuck winked and grinned at the other players. Intrigued Luke walked over to the table. In the center of the table was a huge pile of gold cubes. In each players hand was a small fan of rounded cards. The largest of the pilots was sweating and had the rest of the deck in front of him. Luke assumed he was the dealer. "Sure, but I don't know how to play." "No problem." The blond haired man next to him started off in a long monologue of how the game was played. Luke listened attentively and asked question when a point was unclear. "This is just like poker." "Poker?" "Never mind, we have another problem, I only have American greenbacks." "American?" the Jolly asked. "Greenbacks?" Boomer finished. "It' s our form of money." Luke pulled out his wallet and extracted a twenty-dollar bill from it. "Here is twenty dollars." He passed it to Starbuck who looked it over critically. "Who is the guy in the picture?" "Andrew Jackson, he was a president of my country." "I don't think this will work." Starbuck passed it back but the bill was intercepted by Bojay who looked it over. It was then passed to each man. It finally got back to Luke. He slid it into his wallet and looked up. "What am I going to bet with?" "Here, I will give you loan." Starbuck smiled and pushed a small stack of gold over to Luke. Luke picked one up and examined it. "What are these called?" he asked still studying the gold coin. "Cubits." "Well, Ok then, deal me in." The cards started to fly around the table for Jolly had collected the previous hand and started anew. "So you guys are all pilots right?" "Yup, were all from Blue Squadron, except for Bojay, he is from Silver Spar." "All right then, let's play." Luke put his questions on pause and started to concentrate on the game. Back on Earth he played poker a lot in the barracks with all of the other pilots. His only rival was Jeremy. Together they could clean all the others. Against each other it was a blood bath in which hundreds of dollars was won and lost. They started with small bets so Luke could get a firm grasp of the game. He was slowly amassing his own pile of gold cubits in front of him. Soon the others realized that Luke was getting to be better then they had first originally thought. Soon Luke was winning more then he was losing. The Warriors began to treat the new comer with a newfound respect. Just as Luke was about to call Starbuck on his bluff a new Warrior came into the room. Tall, with long black hair, he had an aura of authority around him. "Oh hey there Apollo, you should meet Captain Fraser here, from the United States of America." "Well Captain, the Commander has requested that you come to the bridge once you were awake. But I guess you got delayed a little." Apollo finished staring at Starbuck. "Sorry mates, but my presence is requested on the bridge." Luke stood up and collected his hard won Cubits. "Oh here Starbuck, your loan." Luke pushed a small pile back to Starbuck. "Lead on Apollo." Apollo led Luke through a bewildering maze of corridors and elevators. They finally came to the bridge of the Galactica. Luke was astounded be the vastness of it. At the front was a huge window that gave a spectacular view of space. Below there were several stations in which men and women sat in comfortable chairs watching flickering monitors. On a raised dais the center was a smaller station with one officer sitting in it. A tall gray haired man stood above the officer, he was peering intently into a monitor arguing with someone. "Commander." "Ahh Apollo, good you brought our new visitor." He looked Luke over with a critical eye. "Welcome a-bored the Battlestar Galactica. I am Commander Adama." "Captain Luke Fraser, United States Air Force." Luke brought up his hand and saluted Adama. Adama retuned the salute with the formal Colonial arm across chest salute. "Come, we will talk in here." Adam stepped off the dais and led them off towards a small room off to the side of the rest of the bridge. Once in side they all took seats in the same comfortable seats Luke had seen installed on the rest of the bridge. "As you have already found out I am Commander Adama. To my right here is Colonel Tigh. And you have met Captain Apollo." Luke nodded then began. "First off, Commander I would like to thank you on behalf of the United States Government for allowing me to land on your Battlecarrier." "Battlestar," Apollo whispered. "Err...Battlestar," Luke corrected himself. Adama leaned foreword in his chair. "And, I would like to assure you that once my ship is repaired then you may proceed on your way." "Well that is very nice Captain but we have already started to move out of the system that you came from. As for your ship, I don't understand how you will be able to repair it yourself." "My wingman has undoubtedly alerted the proper authorities back home. I am sure that they will be mounting a mission to recover me." "That brings us to our first question, where do you come from?" "I would like to answer that one Commander, but I have no idea what is going on here. I jump into the middle of a fight between you and the Saucer Carrier, and then six saucer ships hit me. Then I wind up on you flight deck getting gassed. I don't know what the hell is going on. And frankly I had better start getting some answers here." Luke finished heatedly. Adama nodded and leaned back in the chair. "What is it you wish to know?" "For starters, am I a prisoner?" "Certainly not Captain, as you can see we have allowed you to retain your sidearm." "Who the hell are you and where do you come from?" "The Battlestar Galactica is part of the Colonial Fleet. She was commissioned over 500 Yeahren ago. She was part of a fleet made up of 8 Battlestars and several hundred other various support ships. The Saucer ship that you mentioned was a Cylon Base ship. The Cylons are a ruthless race of robot machines. Their only prerogative is to destroy all vestiges of humanity." "Sound like the Borg." Luke snorted. "Borg?" "Never mind, continue please." "For over a 1000 Yeahren the Cylons have been attacking and destroying us. Finally about a Yeahren ago they decided to make peace with the Colonies. The peace summit was a trap. All the Battlestars and the accompanying support ships were destroyed. Only the Galactica survived. We watched as the Cylons destroyed all of our Colonies, billions of people were annihilated. The survivors were packed onto any remaining ships left; we set out across the galaxy looking for our lost 13th Colony." "So these Cylons are the bad guys then." "Yes." "Ok, that makes me feel a lot better, knowing that I am with the good guys and not the bad." "Can you now tell us where you come from?" "Yeah, but I doubt it's that 13th Colony you guys are looking for. It's the 3rd planet in the solar system that you just left. I call it home, but to the six billion people living there it is known simply as Earth." To Be Continued.................... TITLE: EARTH: The 13th Colony SERIES: 1st part in the EARTH series. BEGAN: Sunday, July 6th 2003 AUTHOR: Seawolf156 E-MAIL: Seawolf156@hotmail.com CATEGORY: Battlestar Galactica alternate future BATTLESTAR GALACTICA SEASON/SEQUEL INFO: Any time from 6 months to a year after the destructions of the colonies. I say a year, others say different. RATING: G STATUS: Work in progress. Part One is available. SUMMARY: For one year the Galactica has been probing the depths of space looking for the lost 13th colony. When Starbuck, Apollo, Sheba, and Cassiopia come across a mysterious radio signal. It is traced to a solar system with nine planets. Galactica on investigation runs into a Cylon Basestar. After its destruction, a mysterious fighter is escorted in. PREVIEW: EARTH: New Beginnings Luke and Jeremy are re united on bored the Battlestar Galactica. The Galactica heads back to the fleet to bring them in too Earth. But the fleet is still 2 months of hard travel away. Baltar finds out about Earth and starts to plan an invasion. *****This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands, nor will it ever be sold for any profit. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the respective authors. All unrecognized characters and plot lines are mine. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. Battlestar Galactica is a trademark of Studio USA; formerly Universal Studios, created by Glen A. Larson, and does not belong to me. ***** Authors Notes..... This story is something I am hoping to develop into a long running min-series sort of thing. I am currently planning on at least four or five other short stories like this one. When all of them are tacked together they will become on long novel. I hope you enjoyed the first part. If my grammar and English are weak in places then I am truly sorry, English never was one of my strong points. If you have any comments, suggestions, and/or criticism then I would be happy to have it. Just send it to me at ...... Seawolf156@hotmail.com