Post-Equus arrival, day 202
06:06, Canterlot Standard Time
Commander’s Quarters, Caprica
Mark wasn’t surprised he couldn’t sleep when he arrived back at his quarters. After only an hour of rolling around atop the sheets, much to the annoyance of Spitfire, he gave up on the prospect of getting any rest. His final roll out of the bed to stand woke her. “Can’t sleep?”
“Not a wink. The body is exhausted, but--” he pointed to his head, spinning his wrists in circles. “--the mind is ablaze.”
She propped herself up. “Trying to figure out what you’re going to say to the Princesses?”
“Among other things, yes.”
“Like what?”
Mark slowly strode to the small porthole, gazing out and observing the sun. He held a hand out, blocking its light to see the Vindicta in close formation. It was similar in shape to the Caprica, though the Vindicta was obviously bigger. The hull was a metallic unpainted gray, missing plating in various areas along the main superstructure. Scars of ordnance bursts and impacts were frighteningly common, and the only visible marking was the name of the vessel, spelled out in off-white letters. “This is supposed to be a joyous occasion, right?”
The light pouring through the small opening illuminated a confused Spitfire. “I would think so.”
“I mean, we found a group of humans who escaped the Driden onslaught.” He spun to face his mare. “So why do I feel so… so--” he brought his hands up, fighting for the right word, speaking louder than intended, “--I don’t know… ‘meh’ about this whole situation?”
“‘Meh?’” she asked.
“Indifferent,” he quietly said with a shrug, letting his arms fall and facing the porthole again. “I guess. I dunno how else to explain it. I just…” Mark sighed, putting a hand near the window. “At first, when I heard the Admiral’s words come over the speaker, I felt nothing but unadulterated joy, for lack of a better word. But now that we’ve had some time to settle down, it’s gone.”
Spitfire rolled out of the bed, her hooves giving a clank as they made contact with the metallic floor. She walked slowly over to Mark, rearing herself back onto her hind legs and taking him into a hug. She laid her head between a shoulder and his own. “You thought you were the only one left, and made your peace with it. I’m not surprised you’re feeling the way you do.”
“It just bugs me,” Mark said as he saw a flight of Hoppers exit the Vindicta’s landing pod and focus their attention on a heavily-worn section.
“Well obviously, or you wouldn’t still be awake after eighty-some-odd-hours of no sleep.” She pushed on his right shoulder, turning him around. “I’d be more concerned if it was bothering you.” They locked eyes, and it was as if she could instantly read into Mark’s thoughts. “There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”
“Am I that easy to read?” Mark asked with a sly grin. He broke contact, moving back toward the bed and sitting on its edge.
“I think I’m just that good of a judge.”
Mark laughed quietly. “I’m weirded out that one of the first things I was asked was about our combat status.”
“You saw the condition of the ship.” Spitfire joined him on the bed. “They looked like they just got out of a heavy-weight bout. He just wanted to know just in case they had been followed.”
“True, and let’s hope they weren’t,” Mark sighed. “And he doesn’t know that we -- or rather, I -- haven’t seen a Driden in six months.”
“Their crew is on a post-battle high. I think we should let them cool off before letting them know that they will be forever out of harm’s way, and they can transition away from a soldier’s life.”
“Just like I was trying to do?”
“Just like you are trying to do.”
Mark smiled. “I see you’ve been taking my lessons in commanding to heart.”
“Rule of Engagement number eighteen. ‘A calm soldier is an efficient soldier.’”
“Spoken like a true protégé.” He leaned over, rewarding Spitfire with a quick kiss. “I gotta make myself look presentable for the Princesses.”
“Oh, you’re actually going to indulge them in a video chat?”
“Yeah,” he stood, “then maybe I can get some sleep.”
“What are you going to say to them first?”
Mark opened a hatch leading to a private washroom. “I’m gonna start out by saying we had to cut our mission short because another ship jumped in, and we are currently escorting them back.”
“You know they’re gonna ask why you didn’t tell them sooner.”
Post-Equus arrival, day 202
06:45, Canterlot Standard Time
Bridge, Caprica
“I waited so I could tell you both,” Mark said into the display showing both Princess Celestia and Luna. “We’re far enough out, it was my personal opinion that this issue could have waited a few hours before informing any royalty.”
“I see,” Celestia said with a questioning eye. When the transmission first started, it was immediately obvious to Mark that she had just awoken. A dull and tired voice had first greeted him and Celestia’s mane had not yet taken its ever-flowing form. The mention of more humans quickly roused her from her half-sleep state. “Have you slept yet, Commander? I seem to remember you were conducting an ‘endurance drill.’”
“Not yet, ma’am. Recent events have had me a little… on edge.” Mark bent down to retrieve his coffee cup, taking a small sip. "Sleep has yet to grace me."
“Understandable,” Luna chimed in. The Lunar Princess mane was also in a disheveled state, having had been through a night court along with her dreamstrides. Mark had almost felt bad for catching them both in such a state. "I have been able to dreamstride with ponies on board despite the distance. If you wish, I can use a sleep spell on you and your crew.”
Mark looked about the empty bridge. “I gladly accept any assistance, though I think I’m the only one that needs it. Spitfire was sound asleep when I left, and I didn’t see a single pony on my walk to the bridge.”
“Speaking of Spitfire, we need to have a discussion of your… relationship with her when you arrive,” Celestia said. “It’s nothing serious, since it is our opinion that forcing you two apart would do more harm than good. We just need to lay out some --”
“-- understandings,” Luna finished Celestia’s thought.
Mark nodded. “Yes, ma’ams.” He looked down, feeling a small pang of embarrassment. “I had a feeling this was going to come up sooner or later.”
“But, we have more pressing matters at this moment.” A scroll floated its way into frame, and Celestia took a quill in magic, writing down a quick note. “I’m assuming you were able to make contact with this new vessel.”
“Yes ma’am. We were able to speak directly to their C.O., and we ran his name through our databanks.” Mark gestured to Des. “What did you find out, Des?”
A new frame took over the screen showing both parties’ transmission. It showed an aged man; oval faced, receding salt and pepper hair (heavy on the salt), thin lipped but with a full chin, and eyes that screamed of confidence. “The commanding officer of the SSDC Battlestar: Vindicta goes by the name of William Perinski,” Des started to explain. “As of this transmission, he is fifty-four years of age. He has been in the SSDC for thirty-six years, graduating in the top ten percent of his class, and has been a commanding officer in some capacity for twenty-seven years, earning his rank of Admiral in the Fourth Fleet six years ago.”
“‘Career men,’ as we used to like to call ‘em,” Mark added.
“Yes, well, these so called ‘career men’ didn’t usually have a severe backlash like Admiral Perinski did.” The screen flashed to an article of text. “Six months before the breakout of the Driden conflict, it was discovered that the Admiral was selling SSDC weaponry, medical equipment, and other supplies to Colonial Insurrectionists.” Several images went by, showing visual evidence of his crime. “While the Admiral maintained his innocence, claiming he was ‘using assets to gain valuable information in accordance with SSDC regulations,’ his command was dismissed after funding being tracked by an A.I. probe was traced back to Admiral Perinski. He was stripped of his command and arrested soon afterward, and had pending criminal charges in a military tribunal.”
“How does he have a ship then?” Celestia asked.
“Admiral Perinski may have been a smuggler interested in his own wealth, but he was also a capable tactical officer when he fought the Insurrectionists to whom he wasn’t selling weapons. He is a decorated combat veteran, and has received multiple awards, including the Navy Cross and two Distinguished Service Medals before his… incident. When the Driden conflict erupted, the Lord Admirals were willing to overlook his corrupted past in order to gain a competent officer. Though --” her voice trailed as new data flowed in, “-- another inquiry was launched investigating ‘questionable tactical decisions.’”
“That’s disturbing,” Mark said. “Does it give any indication as of why?”
Des shook her head. “None that are in our databank. The only other bit of information I have is that the official record has him listed as K.I.A. at the fall of Demeter.” The screens flashed back to showing the Princesses.
“So,” Mark said to the Princesses, “the questions we have now: How did he survive, and what do we do with the group of humans he’s carrying?”
Luna brought a hoof to her chin. “How many survivors does he have?”
“One hundred and seven,” Des answered. “Or, as someone explained to me earlier this morning, less than one-sixth of the total crew complement of the Vindicta.”
“Oh, dear,” Celestia gasped. “Not many.”
“Not at all ma’am,” Des said in agreement. “She’s running severely undermanned.”
“That’s not what I meant. That’s not a many people to try and rebuild a civilization.”
“There’s that, too,” Mark said. “But human history is littered with examples of hardships ending in triumph.” Littered more with failures, he silently thought, but we’re not gonna talk about those right now.
“We could allow them to settle here,” Luna suggested. “In Twilight Sparkle’s report, she mentioned the Everfree Forest fits the closest resemblance to your Earth.”
Mark shook his head. “With respect, ma’am, I wouldn’t let them settle on Equus.”
“Why not, Commander?” Luna asked with bewilderment.
“I know it seems cold and unwelcoming, but humans have this nasty habit of reproducing quickly, and at the cost of the local ecosystem. Back in primary school, we learned of a time when we very nearly destroyed our own planet with the refuse of industry and decadence.” Mark paused, wording his next phrase carefully. “And when there’s enough of them, they have this tendency to order around the native populations… and get a little violent.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We find them another planet.” Mark turned toward the charting display. “We’ve observed several nearby stars that have planets orbiting them, three of them having the potential of having at least one the correct distance.” He turned back to the Princesses. “This is all theory, of course, since those stars are out of scanning range. We only know about them due to small changes in the light coming from the stars as the planets pass by. But now that we have a ship that’s capable of faster-than-light travel, we’ll be able to confirm it.”
“Do you really think sending them away so soon is our best course of action?” Luna asked.
“Well, not immediately. We give ‘em some fresh supplies and a couple of hooves for repairs, then we gently encourage them to go.”
“What if they choose to stay here?” Celestia asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when or if it happens,” Mark assured them. “For now, we’re both heading back to Equus, and should return in ten days. I plan on making arrangements to introduce the Admiral to my… ‘unique’ crew in a couple of days.”
Mark saw the projected image of Celestia nod. “Very well. Tread lightly. I have a feeling some of these people will not be as easily accepting as you were.”
“Will do, ma’am. Caprica, out.” The image faded, and Mark let out a satisfied sigh. “Bed time.”
Post-Equus arrival, day 202
12:45 hours, Canterlot Standard Time
Commander’s quarters, Caprica
Mark sits at a table, a great feast laid out before him. The only source of illumination are a few candles placed on the table. He sees other faces, but they are those he does not know. A shining light opens from above, and winged valkyries approach, taking those around him into the light. Mark is left behind to sit alone as the light above him closes. He shouts where the light was, and falls to his knees.
The dream ended and Mark awoke, promptly returning to sleep, but the dream would repeat. When he awoke for the final time, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to reveal he had kicked the sheets from his bed. A shiver went through his body. “Des,” he called out to the empty space.
“Yes, sir?” Des materialized in the space adjacent to him.
“Send a message to schedule an appointment with Dr. Cervello. I need to speak with him.”
“Aye, sir. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Mark sighed out. “I think he’d like to know about my feelings and thoughts right now.”
Mark looked at his reflection in the full-length mirror and gave his collar a small adjustment. Luna’s sleeping spell had worn off only an hour before, giving Mark time to prepare himself for the half-day standing at command. The sleep had been a welcome relief from the grueling endurance test, but with the absence of Luna’s dreamstride, the strange dream plagued his mind.
A tone came through the loudspeakers. “Commander Frude to the bridge immediately.”
What the hell? He exited his quarters to see a flurry of ponies heading to various destinations, some running, others very hurriedly walking. Mark quickened the pace of his own steps, reaching the bridge in what seemed to be a flash. The guard outside the door spun the wheel, and the hatch opened.
“Commander on the bridge!” Silver shouted.
“As you were!” Mark quickly bellowed out. “Captain!” He frantically walked over to his XO, “What’s going on?”
Spitfire turned toward the Commander. “Admiral Perinski just radioed over. Says he’s coming over for a combat inspection.”
“Well, that didn’t take long," he said with a heavy sigh.
"I tried to tell him we aren't in any condition for an inspection," Des added. "He didn't take too kindly to that."
"When will he be here?"
"Thirteen-oh-seven hours, sir." Des brought up a hologram that showed an itinerary. "He's apparently very punctual."
"And he's also on his way," Spitfire said from over the sensor readout.
Mark put an arm on the charting console, leaning heavily on its metallic frame. He let out an audible groan, bringing his hand to his forehead. Des walked over to Mark. "You doing okay, Commander?"
Mark promptly stood up straight. "Yep. We're doing good. Give him clearance to land on the port flight pod. My command staff and I will be there to meet him."
Spitfire trotted over to Mark, grabbing him at the shoulder. “Wait, wait, wait. You sure you wanna just drop the veil right in front of him?"
"Why not? We're not gonna be able to keep him from knowing there’s a ship full of ponies forever." He turned to exit the bridge.
She stopped him again. "I don't think he'll react too well to someone saying 'Welcome aboard, oh hey by the way...'"
"What else did you have in mind, Captain? It's not like we can just hide the entirety of the Caprica’s complement inside a storage closet." He turned to leave again. "With me XO. He'll want to speak with the command staff."
"Though I have a feeling you will will be doing most of the talking."
"Right," Mark mentally chastised himself. "Language barrier. No matter, we’ll make it work."
Post-Equus arrival, day 202
13:06 hours, Canterlot Standard Time
Deck of the port flight pod, Caprica
Mark watched in worried anticipation as the Hopper from the Vindicta crossed the rear force field. The Hopper itself was an older model, popular among the fleet when the Caprica itself had been new. It wasn't as sleek or fast as the newer ones that came after, but what it lacked in speed and general looks it quickly made up for in cargo capacity and firepower.
The flight pod itself was devoid of any ponies. Mark and Spitfire both agreed on the way down to the deck that having her present and then easing in the command crew of the Vindicta was the best course of action. Spitfire would hide behind another Hopper and wait for the formal introductions to be concluded before revealing herself. The pod had been evacuated by ponies before Admiral Perinski's Hopper had been given permission to land
The Hopper spun ninety degrees and hovered above an unoccupied landing zone before setting down. Mark stepped forward from the landing strip to the holding zone and waited for the hatch to open. To Mark’s surprise, the hatch remained closed for several tense minutes before he heard the pressure sealants unlock, followed by the groan of a hydraulic pumps that lifted the hatch.
The open hatch revealed an empty cabin, at first. On closer inspection Mark saw the sheen of a pair of black boots uncross themselves and stand on the bulkhead. A hand appeared on the corner of the open hatch, and out stepped an aging man with heavily grayed hair.
The man on the Hopper eyed Mark. "Commander Frude, I presume?"
Mark gave a quick salute. "You presume correctly, sir. Welcome aboard, Admiral."
The Admiral stepped down onto the deck of the flight pod as a woman stepped through the open hatch. She was as tall as Mark, with shoulder length auburn hair, high cheek bones, laugh lines right beside her nose, full uncolored lips, but wearing an ill-fitting uniform that seemed to betray her body proportions.
For a moment, Mark was glad to see another human again.
"It's good to be here, Commander." He looked about the flight pod. "Can't tell you how long it's been since I set foot on another Battlestar, let alone a BXR series."
"We're glad to have you, sir." Mark made a smile that he hoped seemed happy.
The Admiral walked over to Mark and reached out for his hand. Mark did the same, but the Admiral sought to take Mark’s hand from above.
I don't care if you're meeting another Lord of Admirals, his mother's voice rang in his mind. If anyone goes to shake your hand and comes in from above, you take their hand and immediately correct it. Don't let them know you're willing to be dominated.
Mark’s hand went up to meet the Admiral’s, pulling it down and righting it to the proper placement. "Though I must say, where is your crew? You said that you were running with a full complement."
"Technically, we are," Mark uneasily said. "I'll explain later."
"Right," the Admiral said in a chipper. "There’s the combat inspection. But first, let me introduce you to my first executive officer, Major Kara Thoben."
The Major dropped from the step and walked to the group. "An honor, sir. It's nice to see another human face."
"Likewise, ma’am," Mark said with a nod toward the Major. "And this is my executive officer." Mark waved over to Spitfire, beckoning her to come out from behind the Hopper. "This is Captain Spitfire."
A meekly stepping Spitfire strode out from behind the parked Hopper. The golden mare first kept her eyes on Mark as she slowly approached the group, before turning and facing the Admiral.
Admiral Perinski, though still trying to keep his stoic demeanor, couldn't help but to let his jaw fall and stare wide-eyed at the pony. He looked to Major Kara before turning back to point at Spitfire, looking back to the Major, and finally to Mark and saying, "That... is a horse."
Mark put an arm around Spitfire. "Technically, they refer to themselves as ponies, but they are equines, yes."
"What do you mean 'They refer to themselves?' You can communicate with them?"
Mark turned to Spitfire, addressing her in Equuish. "The Admiral would like to know how you are doing today."
She shrugged. "A bit tired, but otherwise I can't complain."
He faced the Admiral again. "I can indeed."
Admiral Perinski brought a hand to his chin. “Intriguing.”
“That’s putting it mildly. These ponies have been giving me shelter and sharing their hospitality for the last six months.” Mark gestured to Spitfire. “I was given the best and brightest members of their armed forces for a crew. We were on a one-year tour of the local system… then you arrived.”
“How do they fare in a fight?” the Major asked.
“Wouldn’t know. We haven’t had a Driden contact -- or any other contact for that matter -- for the last six months,” Mark said with a smile. “We’ve been living worry-free here.”
“Admiral,” Major Kara quietly said, causing both Mark and the Admiral to face her. She had tears welling in her eyes and a look of shock. "Have we... found it?"
"Found what?" Mark asked.
"We were ordered to go radio-silent after departure and search for a planet that would be able to sustain human life," the Admiral told Mark. "We found several, but were too close to Driden-occupied space."
"I see," Mark said. "We were given the same order as well."
"By Lord Admiral Frude, no less?"
Mark nodded. "Yes."
"It seems she was trying to sow the seeds for a new human race." The Admiral began to walk across the landing strip. "Hedging her bets on a couple different ships."
"It would appear so, sir," Mark said as he, Spitfire and Major Kara followed.
They stopped before the hatch leading to the passway to the main body of the ship. "I have a lot of respect for your mother. Did you know it was she that first suggested I be reinstated after my... incident?"
"I didn’t, no."
"I can't even imagine just how difficult it must have been for her to make the case," Admiral Perinksi said, pulling the hatch open. "After my unfortunate dismissal my name was pretty well tarnished. But, I suppose desperate times..." He trailed off. "Have you read the allocations that were being brought against me?"
"Yes, sir." Mark dared to not say more.
"I can assure you that, if a tribunal had occurred, I would have been cleared of all charges." They continued to walk through the small corridor. "Those assets were used to gain valuable information on the whereabouts of known Insurrectionist enclaves and fleet movements."
"But sir," Mark began,"if you don't mind me saying, an A.I. probe showed you have taken in a large amount of money from Insurrectionist sources."
Admiral Perinski sighed. "And had the tribunal taken place, I would have explained that it was icing on the cake." He spun the wheel on the hatch. "I was milking the Insurrection dry. They didn't give me enough time. But I suppose it all didn’t matter in the end, anyway."
The hatch opened to one of three main corridors that ran through the body of the Caprica. Ponies took note of the arrival of the group as they stepped through the threshold but quickly went on about their business. "Ahhh," Perinski let out. "It's good to be on a good ol' BXR series again. My first command post was on the Prospect."
"That was one of the first BXRs that ever existed."
Mark felt a tap on his back. "I feel left out," Spitfire said. "What are you guys talking about?"
"Mindless banter, at the moment. I'll let you know if anything important comes along."
"Though I must say... there's a whole lotta not saluting a superior officer going on," Perinski observed.
Mark looked about the corridor at the ponies. "Well, in their defense, I'm not exactly sure what the protocol for saluting to a different fleet's officers is."
Admiral Perinksi stopped his walk. "What do you mean, Commander?"
“Well,” Mark started sheepishly, “the Caprica is the sovereign property of the Equestrian Kingdom.”
“What?” the Admiral deadpanned.
“Yeah. I presented the ship to the leader of these ponies and sorta… became a member of their society.”
The faces of both Admiral Perinski and Major Kara scrunched in confusion. “You what? You became one with the ponies?” the Major asked loudly.
“I’m sure the Commander has some explanation of why he defected an SSDC warship to an unknown alien species,” Admiral followed up with an uneasy eye.
Mark held up his hand in defense. “Hey, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Systems were failing, the slipspace drives were going haywire, and we were about to lose the ship altogether. I mean, Des can give you a full report on what all happened.”
“Des?” the Admiral jumped in. “Who’s Des?”
Des’ holographic figure materialized in the corridor, just next to the party. “I’m Des. Short for Desarae. Caprica’s resident A.I.”
“Ohhhhh!” Admiral Perinski took one look at Des and reeled back in disgust. “You have one of those!”
Mark’s eyes squinted in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘One of those?’”
“Those artificial intelligence units.” Perinski held his head up and away from Des. “Never cared for something that could think that wasn't made of flesh and bone."
Several tense seconds went by. “Do you mind if I ask why, sir?” Mark asked.
Admiral Perinski gave a small shiver before continuing his step. “Just something about them is off-putting. I don’t trust them.”
Des put out an arm to stop Mark, speaking to him in Equuish. “I think I’m going to have to update his psychological profile. ‘Racism toward artificial intelligence units.’”
Spitfire’s face turned to shock. “What? What did I miss?”
“Oh, we just had a pleasant conversation and found out that the Admiral has a healthy distrust of A.I.’s like Des here,” Mark informed.
“Why?” Spitfire asked.
“That’s what I want to know.” Mark looked back to the Admiral, who had continued his walk toward the bridge. “I wonder if it has anything to do with that probe during his investigation.”
“It would be logical,” Des said. “For the time being, I should probably keep myself scarce while he’s on-board.”
“Probably wouldn’t hurt.”
“Commander!” he heard the Major call out from ahead of them. Mark hadn’t realized just how far they had walked, as they were almost to the bridge. “Hurry up!”
Mark and Spitfire jogged to rejoin them. “Sorry, sir.”
“You three have a nice chat?” the Admiral asked.
“Just giving my commanding officer a quick recap of what we had discussed.”
“Right,” he said with a drawn out tone. “Before we inspect the bridge, the Major reminded me that you had said that your slipspace drives are down.”
“That is correct,” Mark affirmed.
“I suppose we can send over an engineering team to see what’s wrong, and we can turn this ten day return trip into a few minutes or so.”
“That would be mighty fine, sir, if you can afford to spare the crew.” The Admiral tilted his head. “I mean, your ship looked pretty banged up when we first inspected it. Do you not need them more?”
“It’s just a few scratches that need patching up, nothing more, and nothing they can’t handle,” he said matter-of-factly. “They’ve only done it about a hundred times or so. Now, is this hatch gonna open itself?”
Mark gave the guard at the door a nod before flashing a grimace to Des. “What the hell does he mean by that?” he silently mouthed to her. She simply shrugged.
Through the hatch, the bustling noise of the bridge gave Mark the relief that his crew was at least rested enough to get them through their half-day. Silver spotted the group as they stepped onto the deck. “Commander on the bridge!” she shouted.
“As you were,” Mark quickly commanded. He gestured outward to the bridge, letting the Admiral through. “Sir, after you.”
Admiral Perinski let a deep breath rush in. “It’s nice to be on a fully crewed vessel again. The hustle and bustle is… comforting.”
“That’s what I first thought when the first complement was brought aboard,” Mark said as he followed the Admiral around the bridge. Ponies would momentarily look up as they approached, then go back to their work.
“First complement?”
“There was an… incident that involved an exploratory detachment researching the Caprica. I’ll send you a summary of actions.”
“Very well,” the Admiral said as he stood at the charting table. “I’m impressed, Commander. You’ve somehow managed to keep a valuable SSDC asset afloat in alien space.”
“Thank you, sir, but all credit must go to my crew,” Mark said proudly. “They’ve been thrown into a much larger world, and have come out better ponies because of it, I think.”
“Yes, yes,” the Admiral dismissed with a flick of a hand. “‘The honor is mine. It’s my honor. Blah, blah, blah. You can dispense with the sappy stuff, Commander. I despise it.”
Mark grinned. “On that note, Admiral, we both agree.”
“I will send over a tech crew immediately," the Admiral said, taking one last glance about the bridge. "I feel like I've seen everything I need to see, for now."
"As you will, Admiral." They both gave each other a departing salute before Admiral Perinski stepped off the bridge, leaving Mark and Spitfire standing in the charting pit. They exhaled simultaneously, breathing relaxed. "Well, that was most certainly a thing."
"Oh, and Commander," Major Kara's head popped back into the bridge, "the Admiral wishes to have a full combat report transmitted to the Vindicta by oh-nine-hundred tomorrow."
Mark’s eyes snapped to the Major. “For what reason?”
“We need to assess the fighting capabilities of your crew,” the Major replied, not expecting to be questioned. “Will you be able to oblige?”
"With all due respect, ma'am, that is now privileged information, seeing as this is no longer an SSDC ship. I will have to ask my superiors whether or not it can be divulged."
"I... see. I will relay your message to the Admiral.” She disappeared behind the hatch that was immediately shut by a nearby guard.
“Shit,” Mark muttered after the hatch sealed.
“What?” Spitfire asked.
Mark gave his head a small shake. “He’s not gonna like that.”
“Not gonna like what?"
"The Admiral has asked for a combat assessment. I told him I'd have to run it by the Princesses first."
Spitfire’s raised a questioning brow. "Why would he want to know? We've never seen combat, and haven't exactly been trained for it either."
"And I'm fairly certain that he's gonna want more than just our latest stress evaluation," Mark added. He brought an arm up, adjusting the sleeve of his uniform before bringing his hand to the back of his head, giving it a small rub. "This is gonna be a shitshow."
"On the bright side," Des said from the tactical station, "we'll have our jump drives back."
Mark let out a low moan. "Yeah. I have a feeling he’s not gonna do it for free, though."
"Should I start compiling information for a report, then?" Des asked.
"To be on the safe side, yes."
"Commander," Silver Star called out from her station, "Sky Eye reports the Admiral’s Hopper is away."
"Thank the gods."
"Gotta say, Commander," Wind Burst said from the helm, "there's something about him I don't like.”
“Care to elaborate?”
"I dunno. Something about his posture and tone." Wind shook his head. "Couldn’t understand a word he was sayin’, but it felt like he was giving a 'holier than thou' vibe."
"One does not get to his position without obtaining a degree of smugness along the way, Wind," Mark said, grabbing the shipwide broadcast mic. "I just hope he doesn't start lording it over everyone."
"If he does?" Spitfire asked.
"Well... in space, no one can hear you scream." Spitfire’s mouth dropped in shock. "I'm kidding!" Mostly.
"Whatever you say, sir."
An reverberating tone came through the speakers as Mark began his address. "All hands, this is the Commander. I'm pleased to say that this is a great day. Not only for the Caprica and her ponies, but for both pony- and humankind.
"Admiral Perinski of the Battlestar: Vindicta has been kind enough to lend us an engineering crew to repair our slipspace drives. If you are to encounter any of these humans, you are to aid them in any way you can. I know there's a language issue, but Des will be available to translate.
"Hate to say it, but our exploratory mission will have to be cut short. We will reschedule for another day. But for now, we’re heading home. That is all."