What Goes Bump in the Night during an alert in Galactica 1980
by Seanchaidh
July 16, 1998

     There were times when Kip was astonished at just how
old the Galactica was.  She was so old that no one aboard
her, or even in the fleet, had been born yet when she was
commissioned over 500 yahrens before.  The problem was that
she just didn't look as though she was 500.  Almost once
every few yahrens, the battlestars had been upgraded with
the latest technology, and the last time for the Galactica
had been merely a yahren before the Colonies were destroyed.
And even if most of the equipment on the Galactica was
outdated by 14 yahrens, enough of the ship was occasionally
changed to make the ship look decent.
     Even though, she was 500 yahrens old!
     As a child, Kip used to love hearing stories about old
things, especially old houses.  His older siblings, both of
whom perished in the Cylon strike on Virgon, used to love
scaring the pogees out of the young boy by telling him ghost
stories.  They had lived in the outskirts of a large city on
the planet, where there were plenty of places that were said
to be haunted.  That much he remembered of his home world.
     He remembered the day they left, too.  His older
brother and sister had been looking forward to some
exploring.  It was summer, and the two were out of the
educational institution with grand plans to search out their
own favorite haunts.  That morning, they left a crying Kip
behind, because they didn't want a five yahren old boy
tagging along as they went through the potentially dangerous
areas.
     That was the only thing that saved Kip's life and
enabled him to board the fleet with his parents.  Of course,
Mother and Father weren't their old selves, almost drowning,
it seemed, in the grief of the loss of their children and
their home.  For Kip, he remembered them for their wild
tales.
     Kip had once asked them if they'd ever seen something
in their favorite haunts -- a term he now used wryly to
describe their activities.  The two of them, close enough in
age to be twins, looked at each other, then his brother,
Egan, nodded.  They'd seen plenty, of course, but you don't
go looking for them.  They find you eventually.  That had
started the fuss that Kip had  put up while Egan and Gussy
went ghost-hunting.
     Now, as Kip looked at the Galactica, he had to wonder
what was here.  Was it only metal that housed living beings,
or did it store the memories and souls of those who had
journeyed aboard her before?
     Take Blue Squadron, for example.  For generations, the
pilots who made up that organization were the best of the
best.  Skilled, brave and loyal.  And most of them were cut
down before they reached middle age.  Recent yahrens were
proving not to be an exception.  In fact, it was occurring
more and more often.  The life expectancy of a warrior was
incredibly low, especially if he or she happened to be a
pilot.  But it was just one of those things that people
didn't talk about.
     So if you took a group of dedicated individuals aboard
a ship, who were then killed before they had truly
experienced life -- something was guaranteed to happen.
Something had to remain behind, for souls like that didn't
let go without a fight.
     There were rumors that the Galactica was haunted, but
Kip valued those as the drunken tall tales of warriors with
too much stress in their lives.  The common tale was someone
had seen a glimpse of a translucent figure, gliding into a
bulkhead somewhere in the wink of an eye.  There was no fun
with that.
     Even so, Blue Squadron had a legend of its own about
its departed members.  One day, the Galactica would be in
trouble, and the ghosts of Blue Squadron would return again
to aid their base ship in her moment of need.  Or, if it
were the case, help the current members of Blue Squadron,
too.
     If nothing supernatural was really aboard the
Galactica, though, there was always the abstract formula of
luck.  The Cylons hadn't been spotted in several sectars,
and that gave the squadrons the time they needed not only to
rejuvenate, but to practice flying so the cadets actually
could pilot the ships in a straight line before being
required to fire a laser.  Kip's class had already graduated
complete with a baptism of fire a few sectars before the
pause in the war, but they took the opportunity anyway to
improve their skills.
     Kip often trained with his two closest friends, Troy
and Dillon, and they were making a great trio.  He had once
overheard some of the senior officers in discussion in the
landing bay, and he believed that it was Captain Boomer who
remarked that skill levels like that for three people
working together hadn't been seen since his days with the
long-departed Captain Apollo and Lieutenant Starbuck.
     Along with the extra training and general brushing-up
of skills for all warriors, Boomer also made sure that the
squadrons were able to respond within centons should an
alert be called.  He almost had Blue Squadron's response
time to a precise schedule that he was confident would work,
baring any major problems.
     And, on an ancient ship that hadn't seen a major
overhaul in nearly 15 yahrens, major problems can come in a
variety of forms.
     One night, Kip was having a very hard time at getting
to sleep.  All around him, he could hear the soft breathing
and occasional snores of his fellow squadron members on Beta
deck.  On his right was Captain Boomer's bunk, and on the
other side were Troy and Dillon; all three were asleep,
probably dreaming of dancing Vipers and laughing daggits.
Kip, however, was laying on his back, staring up at the
bottom of the higher bunk.
     He sighed to himself, pulling the sheet up to below his
chin.  He wasn't cold, and his body was slightly weary, but
he'd been able to doze enough to get some rest.  What he
really wanted was a good sleep with dreams, but it wouldn't
come.  He would fall asleep, then wake up again centons
later for no apparent reason.  Even though his mattress was
slightly uncomfortable, it shouldn't have accounted for his
discomfort.
     Squeezing his eyes shut in frustration, he flopped over
onto his side, burying his cheek into the pillow.  There, he
was comfortable, but after a few microns, he found that
sleep still wouldn't come.  Trying not to get too
frustrated, he kept his eyes closed in the hope that sleep
would catch up to him eventually.
     After a few microns, he felt the hairs on the back of
his neck start to prickle.  Feeling disconcerted, he ignored
it, especially since there was no reason for him to be
feeling that way.  Unless, of course, he was worried about
what the response would be in the morning should he report
for his patrol exhausted.  He tried to force the thoughts
out of his mind, because they probably were doing their fair
share in keeping sleep away.
     But the discomfort was continuing, and Kip started to
feel chilled.  The words of his brother Egan came to him
from nowhere.  "You know the feeling.  You can be all by
yourself on a bright summer day, but you'll know where
something is there.  No, not something.  Someone.  There's
someone else in the room, or the field, or the hall; you
know that as well as you know that you're there, too.  Even
so, you can't see them."
     Was that it?  Was someone watching him?
     Peering out with one eye, Kip could see nothing.  Even
though Egan's words were ringing bells with him and the
current situation, he felt that it was just his imagination.
But imaginations can only be so good, so when there was a
sudden chill appeared next to him, he opened his eyes again
to look in that direction.
     There was indeed someone watching him; Kip started in
surprise.
     He could immediately tell that the person was a
warrior, because the uniform was plain as day, as was the
laser holster slung on the left side of his body.  The rank
was that of a captain.  Slightly built, he had his fists
planted on his hips as he looked down at the startled pilot
with an annoyed expression on his face that almost promoted
Kip to protest, "But I didn't do anything!"  Dark hair and
eyes that looked to be black in the dusky light complemented
the figure, but Kip was too terrified to notice anything
else.
     The man was transparent.  Kip could see the sleeping
figure of Boomer through the ghost's waist, and he nearly
wanted to faint as he realized this.
     The ghost waited until Kip showed definite signs of
being awake and able to think, though the fright that was
going through his mind didn't seem to be helping at all.
With a nod and an inclination of the head, the figure turned
and headed away from the warrior's bunks, toward the far
wall near the exit.  Kip didn't know what he was thinking,
but he got out of the bed anyway to follow the ghost.  His
curiosity was piqued, and perhaps one reason he did was
because he knew that no harm would come to him.  Despite the
obvious irritation the ghost displayed, there was nothing
actually hostile about him.
     The ghost arrived at the storage area where the
warriors' Viper helmets were stored, and he reached out to
pull his own ghostly helmet from an empty space.  In fact,
Kip would later recall, he couldn't ever recall seeing a
helmet there.  With a pointed glance at Kip, the captain's
ghost headed toward the exit, and with each long stride, he
faded away until nothing but a faint wisp reached the
doorway.  Kip was transfixed, not sure what to do; finally,
he followed the ghost's lead.
     The doorway slid open to the corridor outside, and Kip
was greeted by the far-away din of a klaxon and the faint
shadows of the alert's red light.  He hurried over to the
hallway to see personnel running back and forth.  Kip stared
at them, not knowing what was more disturbing -- the ghost's
visit or this sudden activity.  Even so, he grabbed the
first person he recognized.
     "Hey!" he yelled.  It was Hida, a warrior from Red
Squadron who had graduated with his class from the Academy.
"What's going on?  Did the Commander or the Colonel pull an
alert?"
     "No," she returned, raising her voice over the din.
"The Cylons are attacking!  All the female pilots from Blue
Squadron are on their way to the launching bay.  Where are
the rest of you?  And why are you still in your pajamas?"
     Kip glanced back at the darkened quarters, then shot
her a response that they were on their way as he hurried
back inside.  He started yelling and shaking sleepy bodies,
but before long, Blue Squadron was on its way to the
launching bays.
     Although the battle was fierce, and even though the
humans had tried their best to train against this
eventuality, the melee was still uneven.  After nearly
twenty centons, though, the humans were emerging victorious.
     The tradition for the squadron was for all members to
head to the Officers Club for a drink, no matter what time
of day it was.  Kip met up with a grinning Dillon and Troy
as the three made their way to the establishment.  What
followed really couldn't have been called a party, but more
of a laid-back celebration.
     Captain Boomer came in midway, and immediately he
shushed the pilots so he could speak.  He congratulated them
on a well-fought battle, and he didn't think that any other
pilots in the history of the Galactica's squadrons could
have done a job like that.
     He continued by explaining why the billet on Beta Deck
hadn't received any hint of the alert.  "This is an old
ship, and some times, things break down.  Unfortunately for
us, it had to be the connection for the klaxon.  The bridge
didn't even know that it was broken until I went to see them
after the battle.  Fortunately for us, however, we have
Ensign Kip to wake us up.  Good instincts, Kip.  Keep it
up!"
     A cheer went around the room, and Kip felt his face
redden at the attention.  He was glad for his dark
complexion that hid his blush, especially when most members
of the squadron all decided that he was entitled to free
drinks for the next sectar or more.  Even so, he had to
admit that it was a good deal.  Ghosts didn't exactly have
the means to drink ambrosa, did they?
     The party wound down after 45 centons, leaving Kip and
a few other warriors behind.  As Kip finished the last of
his ambrosa, he noticed a display on the wall of the Club.
Although he'd seen it often enough before, this was really
the first time that he got up and went to look at it.
     They were pictures of warriors, probably dating back
from the very first flights launched from the Galactica's
decks after she was commissioned.  Holding his mug, Kip
examined the various faces idly, vaguely wondering who they
were and what their fates had been.  He didn't dwell too
long on any face in particular until he saw one of the more
recent additions.
     He recognized Boomer's face right away, and justly so.
The Captain was one of the best warriors to grace the
Galactica's flight decks, but in this flatpic, he was still
a lieutenant.  He was smiling at whoever had taken the
picture, and he was flanked on either side by two other
warriors.  One was blond with a fumarello in his mouth, and
the second was a dark-haired captain who was laughing in a
way that looked like he was rather shy.  The blond was
recognizable as the late Lieutenant Starbuck, who many
believed had been unjustly left behind, but Kip wasn't sure
who the captain was.
     Kip felt his heart leap up into his throat and he had
to grasp the mug's handle tightly so he didn't drop it.  He
knew that face, even though he hadn't seen the face before.
Not the living face, anyway, but the transparent one that
had been glaring down at him.
     He didn't know how long he stood there, just staring at
the captain's face.  He jumped slightly as he realized that
he wasn't alone, and he looked over to see that Boomer had
joined him.  There was a faraway look on his face as he
looked at the picture, and after a few microns of silence,
Kip ventured with, "You must miss them."
     "They were closest friends I've ever had," he said
softly, and he reached out to touch the pict.  "You'll
probably remember Starbuck from your Academy days, but
Apollo died long before him.  Ten yahrens now, give or take
a few sectars."
     Captain Apollo.  Kip knew the man's reputation better
than anyone else's -- the eldest son of Commander Adama,
flight commander and Blue Leader, and more importantly to
Kip, Troy's father.  And to think that after knowing Troy
for close to five yahrens, he had never seen a picture of
his friend's father before.
     "It used to be humorous some times," Boomer continued
as Kip remained silent in shock.  "They were wingmates, you
see, and it would seem like Starbuck would deliberately bait
Apollo.  But it wasn't deliberate, of course, because that
was just the way Starbuck used to be.  He'd end up being
late for the odd patrol, and it would drive Apollo crazy
some times.  But Apollo would get his revenge every so often
by psyching Starbuck out.  He'd stand over his bed and glare
down at him until Starbuck would have no choice but to get
up."
     Kip finally found his voice.  "Which bunk did, uh,
Starbuck have?"
     "What?"  Jarred out of his memories, Boomer glanced at
the young ensign.  "Oh, you have the bunk that he used to
sleep in.  Right next to mine, and Apollo would sleep in the
bunk above him until he got his own quarters because of
Boxey... I mean, Troy."
     "Oh."  Kip continued to look at the picture as Boomer
left him, staring at the image of the dark captain for a few
more microns.  Finally, he had to turn to leave.
     For then on, if Kip heard a joking remark about the
supposed haunts aboard the Galactica, he would smile
indulgently then walk away.  He knew that the legend about
the spirits of Blue Squadron's predecessors keeping watch
over them and the ship they all strive to protect was true.
One day, they would return again to defend their old home,
and when they did, nothing would stand in their way.
     Even if what they had to do was just stand and stare
until they got their way.

The end... for now.