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Description
Alarm, the claxon, the alert vipers launching – the beginning of every operation was the same. For the bomber pilots on the edge of colonial space, it was a vicious routine at the dawn of every other day. They never knew when it might be their last. Because every mission was dangerous, every call to action put everything on the line. Anyone facing the raiders out there knew it. They weren't like in the simulations. Even though they were just machines, there was something more.
And yet, every time it was the same. A light carrier would jump on the edge of Dradis Range, barely more than a hangar strapped to an FTL and scaffolding. A dozen or so raiders would launch and throw themselves against the remote depot station. Sometimes, one would come through and lose a few missiles against the scarred hulk of the bastion. Sometimes, one of the pilots would run out of luck and die.
The routine was the worst of it. The mechanical, uncaring repetition of the Cylon attacks, every other day the same thing. While the bastion bled pilots, every time an irreplaceable life was lost. The Cylon couldn't care less how many Centurions were demolished in these fights, even though it could not possibly be efficient.
There was a theory among the pilots stationed there. Even though command refused to confirm it, they all knew it to be true. It was a glitch in the system, a simple bug. Somewhere in the inscrutable servers of the Cylon rebellion, some random subroutine failed to update the status of the operation. And so, it gave the same command over and over, loosing one unit at a time. And it didn't even matter. Light carriers, their raiders, their centurions, the troops of the Cylon were endless. The number of pilots was not.

Based on the orignal series Viper and Viper Concept by CanisD: i49.photobucket.com/albums/f25… & i49.photobucket.com/albums/f25…

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Description
Alarm, the claxon, the alert vipers launching – the beginning of every operation was the same. For the bomber pilots on the edge of colonial space, it was a vicious routine at the dawn of every other day. They never knew when it might be their last. Because every mission was dangerous, every call to action put everything on the line. Anyone facing the raiders out there knew it. They weren't like in the simulations. Even though they were just machines, there was something more.
And yet, every time it was the same. A light carrier would jump on the edge of Dradis Range, barely more than a hangar strapped to an FTL and scaffolding. A dozen or so raiders would launch and throw themselves against the remote depot station. Sometimes, one would come through and lose a few missiles against the scarred hulk of the bastion. Sometimes, one of the pilots would run out of luck and die.
The routine was the worst of it. The mechanical, uncaring repetition of the Cylon attacks, every other day the same thing. While the bastion bled pilots, every time an irreplaceable life was lost. The Cylon couldn't care less how many Centurions were demolished in these fights, even though it could not possibly be efficient.
There was a theory among the pilots stationed there. Even though command refused to confirm it, they all knew it to be true. It was a glitch in the system, a simple bug. Somewhere in the inscrutable servers of the Cylon rebellion, some random subroutine failed to update the status of the operation. And so, it gave the same command over and over, loosing one unit at a time. And it didn't even matter. Light carriers, their raiders, their centurions, the troops of the Cylon were endless. The number of pilots was not.

Based on the orignal series Viper and Viper Concept by CanisD: i49.photobucket.com/albums/f25… & i49.photobucket.com/albums/f25…

Visit the Battlestar Galactica Fan Club: battlestarfanclub.com/forum/to…

More updates and interactions:
Facebook // Twitter // Reddit