Cradle of the Gods
Issue #1: Who Are These Guys?
"Someone's just detonated a nuclear warhead in orbit!"
For a moment, everyone froze in shock.
"I need details, now!" Doctor Jones snapped at the technician. "Who, what, where…"
"Doctor, we need to pull out," Karen Anderson said quietly.
"What?" Jones seemed startled at the very idea.
"Someone around here is throwing around nukes," Karen explained. "If one gets thrown at us, there's not much any of us can do about it. So the best thing right now is to grab everything you can and get everyone back to Earth."
"We can't pull out," Jones disagreed. She raised a hand to forestall an argument. "Okay, I agree we need to get the noncombatants out, but we can't pull out entirely."
"Why not?"
"Because someone used a nuke," Jones replied. "In my experience, people only employ force at archaeological digs because there's something valuable lying around, probably an Artifact of Power of some sort. Well you don't get much more force than using a nuke, so there must be something REALLY valuable somewhere around here. We need to find out what it is."
"Dammit," Karen said. Unfortunately, what Jones said made too much sense. "Okay, let's get the nonessential personnel out of here. If we're going to hang around people using nukes, then we're going to need some serious reinforcements and fast. I might have to call the government…"
"The government? Why?" Jones objected.
"Because they're the only ones I can think of who have any substantial forces immediately on hand," Karen replied. She quirked an eyebrow as another thought came to her. "Unless of course, you want to call up an Omega or Horseman class super," she added wryly.
"No thanks," Jones said with a slight shudder. "I'd like to keep the damage to the ruins on this planet at a minimum, thank you." She turned to address the people present. "Okay, people. We need to start clearing out of here. Start packing the…"
She was interrupted when some kind of aircraft passed overhead. It was a brick-like affair with sloped front and rear. Karen didn't recognize the design, but that meant nothing. It circled the camp once, then paused in midair to turn and tilt down, presenting only its front face to the camp. Karen realized what it was going to do only moments before it actually did.
"Everyone get down!"
The strange aircraft opened fire with six front mounted machine guns.
"It's not here," Cally Henderson said.
"What? What do you mean it's not here?" said Lieutenant Alex Quartararo, better known to everyone by his callsign Crashdown. "Socinus is dying. The med kit's gotta be here."
"Oh, gods, it must be back at the crash site," Galen Tyrol said. He was the deck chief for the Galactica, pressed into the job of chief engineer because no one else in what was left of the Colonial Fleet was more qualified. The small party of Colonials had crashed onto Kobol after running into their enemies the Cylons in orbit. They had vacated the crash site in a hurry to escape any Cylon search parties, but it looked like that the most injured surviving member was going to pay the price.
"Well, we can't go back for it," Crashdown said. "The Cylons are going to be all over the place there."
Crashdown was the only surviving officer, and thus he was in charge. Well, there was their illustrious vice president, Gaius Baltar, but he was apparently still in shock and was being led around like zombie. There was no leadership coming from there.
"Sir, Socinus needs that med kit," Tyrol protested.
"I'm sorry, Chief, but I can't risk the whole group for one man," Crashdown replied. "I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."
"Look, sir," Tyrol tried again. "Let me take a couple people back to the Raptor to get the med kit. That way, we…"
"Uh, Chief? I don't think we're going anywhere," Cally interrupted.
There was the distinct clicking sound of many, many guns being loaded.
The Heavy Raider opened fire on the human encampment. The presence of the tents and the dozen or so humans below was unexpected, but hardly a concern. Still, humans were the Enemy and the camp was a simple target of opportunity. A single sweep from the Heavy Raider's forward guns would quickly eradicate the infestations.
Or at least, it should have.
Instead, the first burst was met by an unexpected defense. A human female simply and quickly raised a hand and the Raider's hail of bullets bounced off an all but invisible barrier. Bullet impacts on the barrier generated spreading, circular ripples, but otherwise appeared to have no effect.
The semi-sentient Raider pilot reviewed its instructions in the face of such unexpected resistance. Standard procedure was that when in doubt, expend more ammunition. The Heavy Raider fired some more, concentrating on the human that appeared to be generating the invisible wall.
The pilot paid no attention to the human off to the side who was taking aim at the Raider with a rifle of some sort. Surely such a weapon was no threat to an armored Heavy Raider.
So the Heavy Raider made no attempt to dodge when the rocket propelled grenade punched through its nose and detonated right next to the ammunition bin for its guns.
Crashdown and Tyrol looked around to discover that the entire party was now surrounded by sinister figures materializing out of the surrounding woods. They weren't Centurions; they looked human. But that didn't mean much; these guys could be skinjobs. There were four of them, dressed in clothes and armor dominated by rippling, random splotches of green, black, grey, and brown. They wore helmets with the same color pattern and their faces were partially obscured by what looked like sunlasses. The strangers all held big guns and all the guns were trained on the Colonials.
"Oh, frak no," Crashdown cursed as he pulled his service pistol. "I am not going to be…" Crashdown's words were cut off as he froze in place. No one had shot the officer, but Galen suddenly noticed a sword being held at Crashdown's throat. The sword's owner was a man dressed identically to the other strangers except that he lacked a helmet and held a sword.
In the back of his mind, Tyrol wondered how the hell he had snuck up on them.
The swordsman spoke quietly. Galen couldn't understand a word spoken, but the content was crystal clear. Crashdown apparently agreed; he simply opened his hand and let the pistol fall to the ground.
Apparently satisfied, the swordsman whipped his sword away from Crashdown's throat. His eyes scanned the Colonials quickly and efficiently. When his eyes settled on the prone and critically injured Socinus, he spoke a single sharp word.
At the word, a sixth person materialized out of the woods. The new guy was dressed almost identically, but was only armed with a pistol that remained holstered and was equipped with a few more bags. After a few brief instructions and a finger pointing, the new stranger bent down next to Socinus and began examining him. As he did, Tyrol was surprised when he spotted a shoulder patch which bore a caduceus, the sign of Asclepius the god of healing.
Tyrol suddenly felt hope stirring.
"Who are these guys?" Cally asked no one in particular.
"Neat trick," Jones observed as the rear half of the aircraft hit the ground just outside the camp with a resounding crash. The front half was raining down around the countryside in itty bitty pieces.
"Thanks," Karen replied as she let the force field drop. She turned to look at the archaeologist. "It's another one of the side effects of my rejuvenation treatment, or so I'm told."
"What does force field generation have to do with rejuvenation?" Jones asked, puzzled.
"Beats me," Karen replied with a shrug. "What do anyone's powers have to do with…"
"LOOK OUT!"
Karen was surprised when Jones tackled her. As they went down together in a heap, a hail of bullets filled the space they had just been occupying. In the same motion, Jones pulled out her pistol and returned fire.
Karen twisted her head around to see a spindly-looking robot go down in a shower of sparks. An identical looking robot disentangled itself from the aircraft's wreckage. It too went down in as Jones and two of the remaining guards showered it with armor piercing bullets. But that allowed a third to get free and spray the camp with gunfire.
Three people were hit before the robot was taken down. Or rather, three people would have been hit. But in a blur of speed, one young man grabbed interposed himself and bodily shielded his companions from harm. The bullets struck him and other than perforating his clothes, did no harm.
More fire from the defenders took down the last robot before it could pick another target.
"Mrs. Anderson, are you okay?" Jones asked, offering a hand up.
"Yes, I am. Thanks," Karen replied as she accepted. "And please, Doctor Jones, you can call me Karen."
"Oh, good," Jones said as she helped Karen to her feet. "I hate formality. Call me Laura. I keep looking around for my grandfather when someone calls me 'Doctor Jones'."
"Alright… Laura," Karen replied. She looked around at the wreckage and shook her head. "Who are these guys?"