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Post by fleetops on Nov 4, 2010 20:40:55 GMT -6
For those who are single or do not want the upkeep of a home.
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Post by Commodore James Atlas (Ret.) on May 25, 2011 5:31:13 GMT -6
The cold night gripped his body to the core as he changed his clothes in preparation for sleep. Nights. They were becoming worse as he grew older. Each night a new, more painful memory of his past would return to him.
The man sank down onto the edge of the bed, he was done trying to suppress the memories. His day would come soon, and he would have to answer for everyone he failed.
Bullet, the man had been one of his closest friends until a malfunction in his viper had taken his life from them all. The pain of his untimely death still hurt today. So much left unsaid to the man. Maybe if the Lords were forgiving enough, they would meet again.
Benjamin Little, known to most as Trottle, was his wing, and his closest friend. They had been nearly inseparable until the man revealed he was a Cylon. He regretted every moment that he had treated the man differently after he learned his true identity. He pushed the man away, and he knew it. After the destruction of their Vulture, they rarely saw each other. If he was still out there, he hoped him the best, he certainly deserved.
Nathan Slade had been his mentor since the day he stepped foot aboard Vulture. He had a way with his crew, each man and woman had so much respect and love their CO that they had been willing to stand beside him when the Vulture had been ostracized from the Fleet. He wished he could have been half the commander at Slade had been. "I know some day you will make a fine CO." His voice still rung in his ears. If only he had lived up to the man's expectations.
Alexandra Skulbaka, the first Cylon he had ever given the time to listen to. She was the one that he could have always counted on. If Slade had been the heart of the ship, then Skulbaka was the backbone. As far as he could remember, not a single person aboard their ship didn't enjoy her company. She always put the good of the ship before her own personal goals, something he wished he had done more. The day that he watched her die, and was forced to walk down the hall of his other fallen brothers and sisters to hang her picture upon that wall had been one of the hardest in his life. He had allowed her to die, he had failed her.
He never really saw eye to eye with Christos Burke, but despite their differences the man was still his brother-in-law. They butted heads at every turn, but wouldn't have had it any other way. Two different lines of thinking that came into one. At times they made quiet a team. But he was another one that he had lost contact with after the destruction of the Vulture. The shame of losing his sister was too much for him to bear another meeting with the man.
Cheries was his best friend, his lover, and the bearer of his child. He could still remember the woman's fiery passion that she threw into everything she did. The late nights they would spend with each other in the saloon, dancing, talking, they flooded his memory and brought a brief smile to his face. The touch of her lips, the feel of her skin, her soft smile, it all came back to him. Even to this day he regretted what had happened between them. The loss of the Vulture pushed him to great depression and had inflamed his rage. He tried to pursue the Cylons in vengeance, never stopping, never yielding. In his blind rage he had turned a blind eye to his wife's worsening condition. She had slipped into a deep depression, every sign of it right before him, and yet he did nothing. She took her own life, and the life of their unborn child with her. Every day since then he prayed to the Lords of Kobol as she had done each night, begging them to some how forgive him for his ultimate failure, but expected none to come.
The old man hung his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, a single tear dropped from his face and onto the cold hard floor below him. So many people who had touched his life, and he had let each of them down.
The Battlestar Vulture had been his life. Starting as a lowly Viper jock, he steadily rose through the ranks until he had become her head. Commander James Atlas, the man who brought the greatest Battlestar of the Fleet to her destruction. He felt for the men and women that had lost their lives in his command; wishing that he could take back each one, but knowing that he never could.
He softly cried as more memories came back to him and he wrapped himself in a thick blanket to sleep. His time was coming, he felt it with each passing day. The more and more he thought of the events of the Second Cylon War, the more he wished that his life had been taken instead of his friends, their lives would no doubt have been better for it.
(This little one-shot is intended to be set several years into the future and the only reason it was posted here in the apartments was due to the fact that I really didn't want to make a new thread. If there is another place I should put this someone let me know and I"ll move it. Also, this was written one very sleepless night so I'm sure it is filled with both grammatical and spelling errors and for that I am sorry)
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Clayton Dualla
Colonial Retired
Colonel
Terran Senior Technical Advisor
Posts: 5,380
Registered: Jul 3, 2011 19:48:16 GMT -6
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Post by Clayton Dualla on Feb 6, 2012 19:11:31 GMT -6
The townhouse was tidy and big enough for a single man just starting out. When he needed a real studio, he'd get a house for it. For now, Clayton Dualla had been jamming with local talent. It was part of his plan to get exposure. Join in on sessions with Terran musicians would get him known, get him heard, better than showering every agent in town with demo tapes. Oh, he was doing that, as well as getting to know the area's DJ's on the wireless stations. He'd actually met a couple who had seen him perform in his old career, but he never pressed to find out what they were doing on Colonial vessels. He was no longer a Colonial officer, and he wasn't searching for breaches of security.
Today, though, he was not focusing on music. No, he had his personal CAD opened. He'd built it to be even more capable than the GalactiCAD he'd used in the Fleet. On it, he was finishing the design upgrades on a manta-shaped craft, yellow with blue trim. When he was done with that, he opened a file labeled 'HERCULITE'. The three-dimensional image opened in the tank. The nanotube with the nanoribbon within it rotated like a strand of DNA. It was not a helix of life, but if unimaginable strenth. The carbon/ceramic matrix, when laid in sheets and cured, then sealed with either opaque or transparent nanocrystalline glass, became one of the hardest and strongest substances in existence. It had never been employed by the Colonial Fleet because if it's expense and the difficulty in manufacturing it without significant facilities. It had begun to see use on old Earth before it was nuked by the Cylons. The supersonic Flying Sub and it's glass-nosed mother ship were built of the material. The patents were jointly held by Clayton Dualla and the two Galactica engineers who'd helped him in everybody's off hours: Nelson "Harry" Harriman and Carl "Doc" Savage. The gruff redhead and the bronze man were geniuses in their own right, and Harry could have done it all on his own, Clayton realized. That he gave Dualla, then Vires, the lead position on the patent, was something that Clayton had never figured out.
Herculite was what Clayton would offer to the Terran shipbuilding industry, after he got his patents recognized by Terra's government. When that was done, he'd forge partnerships with a variety of shipbuilders. He was not going to let the material become the sole property of some oligarch who would use it to bleed competitors dry like stuck pigs. If he was like that, he'd hoard it to himself and manipulate the industries of Terra to make him the wealthiest man on the planet. Herculite could make that become a reality.
But the prospect of a trillion cubits meant nothing to Clayton Dualla. He had no use for that much wealth, and getting it for the mere sake of getting it was a dangerous attitude that led down the road to betrayal, murder, and even genocide. He was not a megalomaniac. Besides, what would a world's wealth mean if his soul-mate, the woman who was as much a part of him as himself, was not here to enjoy it with him. Oh, he could engage in philantrophy, and he would, but he wanted the Terrans to have something uniquely their own. It was his adopted planet, it seemed, and he owed it for the new home it had given him.
First would come the FS2, Terra's first flying submarine, then the deepest-diving full sub in existece. No cramped vessels barely able to fit two occupants while they had hulls several feet thick. No, the first Seaview-class would be among the largest submersibles to ply the depths, able to embark on a voyage to the bottom of the sea.
Then, he would try his hand at the first Herculite aircraft. Herculite was as strong as the purest tritanium, and was as stealthy as the best Carbolite made by man. Oh, Dualla knew that the Cylons had the best, but he would put Herculite up against it any day.
Rising from his desk, he strolled to the bar. Pouring a scotch whiskey, he looked up on the wall. He'd been able to find and reproduce all of the pictures that he and Anastasia had been in together, even finding some from the tabloids that just showed them both standing behind President Alexandra Skulbaka. There was even one with Samantha Martin in it. The whole family together. He toasted them all, most of all his deceased wife. I hope you're proud of me, Darling, he sent the thought to the image if the petite black woman who possessed his heart from eternity past to eternity future.
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Capt. Raul Ortega
Colonial Officer
Titan Duty Officer
Earning my pay
Posts: 76
Registered: Jan 27, 2013 21:47:04 GMT -6
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Post by Capt. Raul Ortega on Sept 24, 2015 20:46:05 GMT -6
Raul had never really considered the apartment complex his home. The Acheron was his home and always would be. Still, the Fleet had maintained the apartmetn for him and several hundred others from the ship. As a matter of fact, there were similar apartmetn complexes all over the City and planet for that matter, all built for members of the Fleet for use when on shore leave or planetary assignments. Raul had only been here twice before, so the place did have some of his personal effects. It had been several years since he had last been here. Fortunately, the Fleet paid locals to keep the apartmetns ready and clean. Walking inside, he looked around. The place was clean and tidy but had that dead air smell. Walking over to the climate controls, Raul turned on the central air unit. The woosh of clean cool air came rushing to his nostrils. Dropping his bags and gear on the couch, he walked into the bedroom.
"Well, looks as if I need to make the bed."
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Major Mark Landau
Colonial Officer
Duty Officer, Fleet HQ
I'm not dead, just dying from boredom
Posts: 60
Registered: Jan 19, 2013 0:32:21 GMT -6
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Post by Major Mark Landau on Sept 24, 2015 21:08:59 GMT -6
Mark was too tired to care about the cleanliness of the place. Walking over to the wall near the hall closet, he turned on the air unit. Walking to the bedroom, he dropped his bags and gear and just plopped across the bed, falling asleep immediately. His thoughts turned into dreams, carrying him off to another place and time, far away from here.....
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TerraOps
Terran Civilian
Chief, Terran Operations
Terra-beautiful, mysterious, but not what you think.
Posts: 403
Registered: Oct 30, 2010 21:41:12 GMT -6
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Post by TerraOps on Sept 10, 2021 19:04:22 GMT -6
At approximately 1207 local standard time, a nuclear detonation destroyed Frondal City, Frondal Islands, Southern Hemisphere.
No communication has been established with the city or surrounding area at this time.
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TerraOps
Terran Civilian
Chief, Terran Operations
Terra-beautiful, mysterious, but not what you think.
Posts: 403
Registered: Oct 30, 2010 21:41:12 GMT -6
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Post by TerraOps on Feb 26, 2022 23:44:12 GMT -6
All across the city, sirens began wailing, the type of sirens alerting to an attack. As citizens and military personnel looked up and all around for what could possibly be a reason for the sirens going off, a sudden flash of light high above the city burst, then within seconds, everything-buildings, trees, people-were hit with a massive shock wave.
For a good five minutes, there was nothing but the deafening sound of buildings collapsing and what could only be described as a massive wind storm, like the sound of a hundred thousand aircraft flying overhead. Then, silence. The scene was nothing short of total destruction of the city, although a few dozen sturdier buildings still stood. What had once been a great city was now mostly piles of rubble. The dead would number on the hundreds of thousands, the injured and wounded many times that number.
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Post by fleetops on Mar 1, 2022 14:30:11 GMT -6
The atmospheric detonation of a non-nuclear weapon was used against the City of Corinth and which was fired from the surface, thus being detected by DRADIS seconds before it detonated. The weapon used was a NON-NUCLEAR weapon, a vacuum type bomb that destroyed most buildings and structures in the city (homes, residences, smaller constructed buildings) but left standing more sturdier structures (government compound, university buildings, power plant, heavier constructed buildings). This weapon was a HIGH PRESSURE weapon that when detonated as an air burst, brought down upon the city immense pressure that essentially flattened buildings and bridges and structures, also killing pretty much any living person and animal that was outside at the time of detonation.
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Natalie
Terran Civilian
Posts: 7
Registered: Mar 15, 2022 21:50:47 GMT -6
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Post by Natalie on Mar 16, 2022 12:43:58 GMT -6
Crawling out of the debris of her apartment, Natalie had just get off her long sixteen-hour shift at the CPD and now she found herself under her wall. Dragging herself to the stairwell, she could see only dead SFs as she climbed down to the ground floor. Grabbing a flair from her bike, she fired it off at a pass Raptor with her clothes covered in dust. Watching the Raptor turn around, the survivors in the building began to pour down with the Raptor landing. Climbing onto the Raptor, she kept her badge under her shirt with her weapon missing from her holster.
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