This story begins during Battlestar Galactica's third season, with one of my favorite episodes, "Exodus, Pt. 2." Much of the Colonial's dialogue in this chapter is directly from that episode.
In high orbit over New Caprica...
The sky was on fire.
Space rang with the hammer blows of multiple anti-ship missile explosions impacting on the beaten hull of the Battlestar Galactica, which was feverishly defending itself against the might of four Cylon basestars. The vacuum was filled with flak from Galactica's point-defense cannons. Several hundred fighters had already been destroyed, but time and numbers were mounting against the Battlestar.
Several minutes ago, the tide seemed to be turning, and Adama had a slim hope that they just might win this. The intra-atmosphere jump had been incredibly risky. When it had been proposed at the battle strategy sessions several weeks ago, he had almost immediately shot the idea down. The dangers involved...if it could even be done, given that the escape from New Caprica would already be a hi-intensity battle situation, were enourmous. The jump had to be presise, and then everyone had to be on point and get the FTLs spinning in time to avoid crashing and burning on the planet's surface below.
This went against everything he or any other officer had been taught about combat Jumps, but eventually Adama saw it something so out of the box, that it just might work. Besides, perhaps it was high time to throw away the old book and write a new one. Against all odds, somehow their stunt had worked. The introduction of the Vipers had thrown the Cylons off their game enough to give the colonists the chance to get to their ships and escape.
The Galactica's DRADIS system montored multiple planetary jumps to the specified coordinates to meet up with the remaining civilian fleet. The Galactica had reappeared in high orbit over New Caprica, about one and a half A.U.s from the nebula.
"Cylon raiders are still scattered to hell and gone," Helo said, checking the DRADIS. "They're coming after us without fighter cover. If we can draw the two basestars away from the planet, the colonists might be able to escape."
The tactical officer turned towards the Admiral. "Hang on," he turned to face the Admiral. "Two more baseships just jumped into orbit. We got four baseships out there, Admiral."
"No," Adama said, a sinking feeling entering his stomach. "We can't hold off four."
The Command Center was nestled in the center of Galactica's superstructure, and was the most heavily armored area of the ship. But even so, everyone present could feel the impact of every missile and anti-capital ship weapon. Monitors sparked and fizzled, coming in and out of focus.
Adama gestured towards a tech who was busy repairing a power line. "Pass up the cord!" he barked, handing the power lead to another nearby tech. "Connect the other side right away!"
"We've lost maneuvering thrusters.' his tactical officer warned him. He was on the line with Engineering, which was always chaotic in a battle situation.
Helo apprised Adama of the situation. "We can't take any more hits to port or we're looking at explosive decompression, sections thirty-six through forty-eight."
Options...options. "Jump drives?!" It was half a question, half an order.
Helo shook his head. Not in their lifetime, which was looking extremely short.
Another nuke shook Galactica to the core. Adama was knocked onto his back, and struggled to regain his footing. His left arm felt slightly numb, and he had trouble breathing. Slowly, he was able to steady himself.
"Then that's it."
The command center was deathly quiet. The Admiral, the legendary Adama, admitting defeat? It truly was the end. Hull armor breached in a half-dozen places...the Cylons were attempting to jam the DRADIS, causing the system to fuzz out sporadically...Jump drives off-line.
Admiral Adama adjusted his glasses and looked at his crew.
"It's been an honor."
Adama and everyone else braced themselves. A few more explosions, a few more missile strikes, and the ship would go up, lost in the void. The Battlestar Galactica would be no more.
The rain of missiles suddenly diminished, and DRADIS reported one Cylon baseship destroyed.
"Galactica. Pegasus. Let us take some of this work off your hands. Get your FTL up and ready, and we'll take care of the rest." Adama could hear his son shouting orders. "Alright, fire up that main battery!" Admiral Adama heard a tinny "Roger that sir!" from the Pegasus end before the connection was broken.
Adama looked at the DRADIS. The Cylons were already reforming, and moving on Pegasus.
"Damn you, Lee..." he glanced at a tech working frantically. "Keep working on that FTL! Get them online. Cylons will redeploy as soon as they recover." DRADIS showed Pegasus moving to engage the hostiles.
"Thank you, Lee."
Alarm klaxons rang loudly in Lee Adama's ears. This was it.
At the head of half a million tonnes of metal, fighting in the void, with life and death on a razor's edge.
He supposed this was how his father felt. Commanding a Battlestar truly was different from zipping through combat in a Viper.
He looked at Dee, his XO. But she was infinitely more than that to him. Her cool eyes assessed the situation.
"They're coming about. Maneuvering to bracket us." she was able to keep her voice even, although they were facing three Cylon baseships, with DRADIS telling them that more, at least six more, were on the way to engage them.
"Steady as she goes." Lee ordered. "Take us right into the center." Head for the heart of the enemy formation, try and do as much damage as possible. Kill the beast.
"Won't last long in there." Dee stated, looking him right in the eyes. In all probability, they would lose the ship. But they would go down fighting.
"No." was all that needed to be said, as the command center rang with another missile impact.
DRADIS showed Pegasus engaged with the three basestars in their immediate combat zone, but at the periphery of the sensors, they showed another six Cylon basestars moving fast out of the nebula to engage them. That would up the enemy force to nine, and no Battlestar had ever taken on nine basestars and come out in one piece.
Communications with Galactica's Vipers were affirmative. All ships had lifted off and had jumped away to the specified coordinates. now they had to get away.
"Get our birds home!" Adama yelled at the officer in charge of command coordination of the fighter squadrons. "Let's get the hell out of here..."
The techs had gotten the FTL back up and running. Collect their fighters, and New Caprica could become a very bad memory.
DRADIS reported the Viper planetary attack force had made it's way back onboard Galactica. The Admiral had authorized combat landings, and every pilot was racing to get back home.
"Dee." Lee said. "Status of the incoming Cylon baseships?"
Six more baseships, filled with missiles and nukes and fighters. Pegasus had already taken a significant beating from three. Six more would be impossible to stand against.
Suddenly DRADIS reported a massive energy spike, several A.U.s out, beyond the nebula, barely readable. There were a total of six energy spikes.
Seconds later, DRADIS confirmed the destruction of six enemy basestars. One minute they were there, the next they were wiped out.
Erased.
"What the hell just happened...?" Lee said. This late in the game, the situation turning around for them...it was nothing short of a miracle.
An officer ran up and handed Dee a readout. she scanned it, confusion crossing her face.
"Optics report there were six flashes, consistent with the high energy readings we recieved. The basestars were all hit at their midpoints, at their weakest point, and destroyed. All of them were destroyed. They didn't have time to launch fighters or jump away. They're just...gone."
Lee swallowed. "Looks like we have guardian angels, or the gods, or something. But we're not out of the woods yet. The remaining basestars have released all of their fighters after us. Galactica is contacting us."
Admiral Adama's voice sounded over the communications line. "Six basestars, gone. What happened?"
"Optics reported six flashes of light coming from inside the nebula right before the basestars were destroyed. Where they came from, we don't know. We still have the remaining three to deal with, and they're cutting loose with everything they've got. We will have to abandon ship."
It was several seconds before Adama responded. "I understand. See you at the coordinates."
He cut the line. A minute later, Dee said "The Galactica has jumped. The Cylons are closing in on us."
"Set main batteries to auto-fire cycle B! Lock engines ahead flank!"
Officers rushed to their final orders. With a heavy heart, Lee activated the ship intercom.
"This is the Commander. Abandon ship. Abandon ship. All hands abandon ship. Report to evac Raptors and jump to rendevous point. Good work, and I'll see you on the other side."
Dee sprang into action. "Alright, people! Let's move! Out! Let's go!"
Everyone ran towards the hangars. At the exit, Dee looked back at Lee. "You too, Commander."
"Yes, sir." Lee said, a strange sound in his voice.
Dee began running. Lee moved towards the exit, looking for the last time at his burning ship.
"Thank you." he said, before dashing towards the Raptor bay.
The final flight of the Pegasus was short, but memorable.
The battlestar was burning from a hundred different places, mortally wounded. main power was nearly gone, and what was left was diverted to the weapons and sublight engines.
Pegasus kept fighting and moving foward, up until the end. The port hangar bay was open, and four Raptors shot out.
In the midst of the bedlam of battle and speeding metal, one small metallic object no larger than a dinner plate, but speeding at a quarter of lightspeed, shot towards the last Raptor in the escaping group. Seconds before it's FTL drive shot it completely out of reach, the object magnetically attached itself to the hull of the ship, and actiivated, emitting a small, but distinct electromagnetic signature.
The Pegasus, now unmanned, ponderously moved foward, inertia and engines launching it at it's enemy, a Cylon baseship that was only now reacting to a half million tonnes of battlestar speeding towards it, guns blazing.
The impact was at first negligible, but nanoseconds later, the Cylon baseship's superstructure crumpled like glass, smashed by a hammer called Pegasus.
The battlestar seemed to slighly implode, bulging at the seams, before the ship's running lights suddenly switched off, the main engines now vaporized. The remaining energy gathered and Pegasus exploded, a flower of burning metal in space.
It's port hangar deck was surprisingly intact, and sped towards another close-by Cylon baseship that did not jump away in time. The third basestar was smashed to pieces and broke up, it's main engines exploding with terrific force.
The only independently moving objects left were Cylon raiders, now with only one heavily damaged basestar left, and all of it's hangar decks sheared off by debris.
Bridge of unknown ship...
A bridge officer consulted the active scanning array. "The Colonial Fleet has left this system, Mistress. We are recieving a faint EM pulse from the tracker, almost 40 light years from here."
"Thank you." the woman said. She steepled her fingers, deep in thought. She sat in the Captain's chair at the center of the bridge, the focus of the energy and attention in the room. The Captain assumed a position at her right, standing tall and making sure bridge operations ran smoothly. The woman was flanked on her left by her bodyguard, a humorless, unsmiling man in his mid-thirties. It amused her at points in time that he could be so cool and composed, even in the face of historical events, such as this.
She snapped her fingers, bringing bridge security to attention. "Bring her." she said.
Seconds later, the two large and heavily armed and armored men returned from the outside corridor, restraining between them a woman in a skintight black prisoner's uniform. Her hair was matted and dirty. She was soot and grease stained, and her eyes were bloodshot. She had difficulty focusing on anything in her vision. She also stunk.
The woman stepped ot of the Captain's chair and approached the prisoner, snapping her fingers to get her attention. The woman slowly became alert, as if waking from a dream.
"You should be commended," the woman siad in a conversational tone of voice. "Your information was accurate. Six Cylon basestars were destroyed, and the Colonials escaped. Your 'New Caprica' experiment has been terminated."
The prisoner began weeping, almost uncontrollably. "I'm a traitor," she sobbed. "Thousands of us, gone. Destroyed. The others will know, by now. If you send me back, they'll kill me."
The woman smiled wryly. "I'm sure they will. No, I will make arrangements for you. You will be placed in a solitary cell and be fed better things than protein bars. You will also have access to sanitary facilities so you can wash."
"What of the probing?" the prisoner asked, desperation creeping into her voice.
"There will be no more probing for you," the woman said. The mixture of cowed gratitude, awe, and dumb loyalty in the prisoner's eyes disgusted her. It reminded her of a beaten dog, desperate for scraps of favor from the master, or mistress, in her case.
"Now leave my sight." the woman dismissed the prisoner, who was escorted to her new cell, walking as if she had no will of her own.
She turned back to face the bridge crew, and the Captain and her bodyguard. They both stepped foward.
"You appear to have broken the Number Eight, mistress. Congratulations." the Captain nodded his head.
"I am less optimistic," her bodyguard said. He had served her for several years, and had been her father's right hand. His advice was beyond valuable. "She is still a Cylon, and will turn on us if we are not mindful of her."
"I agree." she said. "I want her cell shielded. No transmissions of any kind should be allowed to escape. Let her know that if she kills herself, she will not return to friendly ports. There will be no resurrection."
"Yes, mistress." they both said in unison.
"Now, let us move on to our future battle plans. They will be undoubtedly be massing a fleet to further pursue the Colonials and to search for further archaelogical sites. I want to track Cylon ship movements, and engage them the next time they intercept the Colonials."
"The next time?" her bodyguard said, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes. I plan to make contact with the Colonials. It is high time I meet Adama, 'the legend', the destroyer whom they fear so much. Make preparations for hyperspatial transition." she commanded.
"By your will," the Captain rushed to prepare the ship to leave this system, as the woman and her guard left the bridge. Seconds later, space went white as the hidden battleship dissappeared into the ether.