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Old February 25 2013, 12:43 AM   #190
MasterArminas
Commander
 
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)

“FRACK!” shouted Cally. “What is she doing back on this ship?”

The rest of the deck gang paused and they stared as the scarred Boomer stepped down from a Raptor in the company of six other human-form Cylons. Boomer looked over at her—and her eyes were cold and narrowed as she recognized the woman who had shot and killed her so many months ago. Then the Cylon looked away, and Cally gritted her teeth. The bitch was just going to ignore her—damn her! It was like she thought Cally was nothing, the young woman thought, and she felt her blood begin to boil.

Still holding her wrench she began to march across the deck to where Major Shaw and a group of Marines were standing to escort the Cylons, when she was—literally!—pulled up short by a firm hand on her arm.

“Back to work, Cally,” Chief Tyrol ordered. “She’s none of your concern.”

“Frack you,” the young woman yelled out as she jerked away from Galen Tyrol. “I don’t answer to a toaster—and if you ever lay a hand on me again, I’ll . . . ,” she growled, but then the words died in her throat.

“You’ll what?” asked Tyrol, his face turning a beet red as he placed his hands on his hips. “I am still Chief of this deck, Specialist! Now get back to work getting that Viper ready for operations!”

Cally swallowed and she pointed the wrench at Tyrol, her eyes watering. “You are one of them! Not one of us! Why are you even still here?”

“Is there a problem, Chief?” asked Major Shaw.

“No, Ma’am,” Galen began, but Cally interrupted him.

“Frack yes, there is a problem, Major! He’s the problem! She’s the problem! That fracking Cylon bitch shot the Admiral! And he was fracking her the entire time she planned it! Neither one of them deserve to be on this boat!”

“That is a matter well above your pay grade, Specialist,” Shaw answered. “And speaking for the Admiral, this is Galen Tyrol’s deck—so you have ten seconds to get back to work.”

“And if we decide that we aren’t going to take orders from a toaster anymore?” Cally spat and Shaw shook her head.

“Sergeant Hadrian!” she barked, and the master-at-arms came over from the escort.

“Ma’am?”

“Take Specialist Henderson into custody and stick her in the brig—the charges are insubordination, contempt for the chain of command, dereliction of duty, and conduct unbecoming a serving member of the Colonial Fleet.”

WHAT?” shouted Cally, not even realizing that she still held the wrench in one hand and was raising it instinctively.

Hadrian drew her weapon. “PUT IT ON THE DECK! NOW!” she snapped.

“Major Shaw, I can handle this,” said Galen quietly.

“No, Chief. I am handling this,” Shaw answered as Cally dropped the wrench. She stepped up close to Cally. “Specialist, I am giving you one last opportunity—get back to work, and this matter will be dropped. Otherwise, you will not like the consequences.”

“You’re from Pegasus!” Cally wailed. “Why are you taking their side?”

Shaw shook her head again. “Put her in the brig, Sergeant,” she ordered—and Cally spat in Shaw’s face.

The short dark-haired woman reached up and wiped away the glob and she stepped up close to Cally. “Count your blessings you aren’t on Pegasus, Specialist. An assault on a superior officer doesn’t get coddled there. Take her away,” she snapped.

Galen opened his mouth, but Shaw shook her head again. “I don’t want to hear it, Chief—and the Admiral wants you in the briefing. With them,” she added, pointing at the Cylon guests. “NOW.”

Galen Tyrol set his jaw and then he nodded, and yelling instructions at his subordinates, he stormed off the deck, behind the Cylon guests.
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