Chapter IV
Colonial Captain Rigel, his Colonials, along with three hundred others of the Klingon and Federation contingents used shuttles to get directly into the station. This is what they had trained for, for so long. No more running from the Cylons. No more defensive tactics trying to keep civilians, their families and their worlds alive and failing. Now they about to strike back-provided that they survived the next five minutes. He and the other members of his team were dressed in Colonial brown, with the added feature of being covered head to toe with the latest radiation-proofed, energy resistant flex armor, with built-in, self-contained life support. To his right were the Klingon corps dressed in their traditional colors but with the same armor as the Colonials and to his left were the Feds dressed in red and black armor.
Gone were the standard laser pistols, replaced by isomagnetic disintegrators and phaser rifles. And half the members in each group were armed with the Miller-T'voku assault combat recoilless rifle or ACRR-MT twelve. At forty rounds per second, with variable loads ranging from twenty-two to fifty-five caliper-users choice-the ACRR-MT twelve was designed to fire neutronium coated, tritanium based armor piercing slugs, magnetically accelerated to eighty percent light speed within three meters post ejection. It had a liquid boron-cooled reflex compartment and a built-in high-speed ammo replication chamber with power enough to generate two thousand rounds of ammunition. With auto-tracking with multiple target acquisition up to ten individual targets, heat signature recognition, and subspace sensor location, it was the latest in anti-Cylon offensive weaponry. The Romulans and Starfleet had learned the hard way that Cylon centurion refractive armor was tough enough to repel full phaser fire for up to three seconds. In combat against artificial life forms equal to Commander Data in speed and strength, or far stronger and with their regenerative capacity, that was tantamount to suicide. Another approach was needed to affect a quick and effective kill and R&D came up with an older methodology. Magnetic rail technology, sufficient enough at short range to rip through any unshielded armor seemed a viable alternative and an older world war three design was updated. In theory it should work, according to the designers. Also, many of the team members were equipped with the newest pulse-firing isomagnetic disintegrators, the weapons destined to replace aging phaser technology.
The corridors, dark gray in color, were devoid of any warmth or light, which evidently the Cylons had no need for. The strike group's auto-systems automatically adjusted their optical lens just as the first of the silver centurions turned the curve. Phaser and disruptor beams shredded the first group of robots into their component parts.
"Spread out!" Rigel yelled. "These Cylons are faster than we are! Don't be cheap on the ammo!"
The teams began to separate quickly, the Klingons going for the power generators and the Federation team concentrating on the main command center. The Colonials moved towards the weapons bays, still spraying death at the Assault forces fighting the Cylon heavy warships.
One good thing Thompson mused. These things aren't quiet. "Here they come." He didn't have to say that since everyone could hear them, even through their protective helmets. They were loud and incredible fast, judging by the sounds.
The first Cylon appeared, carrying a handheld weapon so large, two Humans would have had trouble lifting it. It carried it like a pistol and had started firing at the strike team who somehow had managed to move out of the way almost as fast. Three of the slower members disappeared as the beams touched them. The robot began a sweep just as disintegrator beams from three different quarters sliced the Cylon apart. It hit the ground hard, breaking apart even as the team continued firing. Several more robots attacked but were quickly dispatched.
They had been here less than five minutes and three of his team had already been lost.
"Ranford, take point," Thompson ordered as they all began running down and separating. They could hear the Colonials and Klingon firing wildly in the distance as Cylon attack packs converged on them. "Collins, establish a perimeter."
"Sir," the dark-haired woman responded. Immediately, she and her point team moved up, sweeping the area.
For the moment it was quiet, as the other two teams provided a much needed distraction. In the distance, several explosions rocked the compound. The other teams were already using the heavy explosives.
Thompson looked at his tricorder. "Red, Blue and Green teams spread out and hit your assigned areas. Brown Team, come with me. That way," he whispered, pointing straight ahead.
Other than the sounds of explosion, weapons fire and fast-moving padded feet, it was eerily quiet. No one was saying anything. Thompson was amazed at how calm he felt. Practice was one thing, but actually being here was quite another. Now, he was in charge not of a starship, but of a team of men and women looking directly to him for leadership. . He had never been Special Ops but right now, he imagined that this is how they felt when on mission.
There was a burst of static, then Ranford was screaming in his ear. "They're coming. Nearly two dozen and the Golds also….Scanners not tracking them…being jammed. I-"
Without realizing, he was running in the direction of point, towards the sound of sustained phaser and recoilless fire on full auto. Three survivors of the point team turned the corridor and hit the ground. The first Cylon they ran into had been almost completely eviscerated, but the robotic being had begun regenerating, even as the surviving members of the point team began retreating the way they came.
Team members carrying ACRR-MT-12's, opened fire at the horde turning the corner. In such close quarters, it was about to become a killing field.
Captain Duvalier stared grim-faced as an Excelsior lost a Nacelle to a trio of Cylon destroyers that had cornered and isolated the ship before it make it back to its battle group. However before they could finish it, a Prometheus-class starship came to its aid and decimated all three ships before the realized the threat. Quickly, the three independent sections of the starship moved on to other targets while another Excelsior came to the beleaguered ship's aid.
Even with the numbers of ships damaged or destroyed, the Federation-Klingons battlegroup had the Cylons out-gunned, and on the defensive. With shields almost useless, there was a lot more battle damage than projections had calculated. And with Cylons, there was no question as they fought to their complete destruction. The only good thing was that their ships didn't have the regenerative capability of their crewmembers. But even so, they were merciless to anything they considered prey and there seem to be some indication that the ships themselves were attempting to continue the fight even after they were almost rendered completely helpless. That also seemed to confirm the rumors that the larger warships had Artificial Intelligence built-in to the main computer systems. If true, then that was another nasty surprise waiting for them in the immediate future she realized
"Captain," the Lieutenant Salvin said, breaking her out of her contemplations. "Sensors show that the Cylons are on the run."
"Inform the fleet," she said instantly. "If they break out, we'll be up to our noses in robots in less than three hours. Inform Captain Shonar-"
"He's aware of the situation and have ordered all ships, minus the Huntington and the Okada and two Klingon cruisers, to hunt them down with extreme prejudice before they can contact re-enforcements. The Crazy Horse has also relayed the change of plans to the groundpounders."
She hated to abandon her people on the base, but there was no choice. The nebula blocked sensor and subspace signals up to a point. However if the Cylons reached a safe point then they would call every warship within two light-years down on them and this mission would have been for nothing. And the main attack force might fail.
"Track down the closest enemy ship and prepare to remove it form my sight," she ordered. "This one's for you Roberta she thought. And good luck Thompson. I'll keep my promise and I will be back.
"Shoot, Shoot! That's it! Destroy them all!" Colonial Captain Rigel roared as he and the Colonial contingent attacked the fortified area where the massive weapons bunkers were still firing at the battlegroup. The Cylons defending were some that he'd only seen in recording. They were two and a half meters tall with dual eyes. They were unbelievably fast and smart, nothing like the good old days. In those times, Cylons walked unwavering in straight lines and you could cut up entire squads. But these remained under protective cover, methodically laying down sufficient firepower to keep everybody's head down. There were only eight of them, but that was enough. Evidently the Cylons, confident of their outer defenses, had not expected a full-fledged internal assault and therefore there weren't those many combat troops stationed within the fortress. The Colonials had broken thru the internal force fields, but the entire area protecting the sealed doors were constructed of the same material as the Cylons themselves.
Continuous fire from their neutron disruptors were increasing the radiation levels significantly; and soon the protective properties of the environmental suits would fail. That was an automatic death sentence, one that Rigel had no intentions of allowing to come to pass. These were his ancient enemies. The same ones who, butchered billions of his people, wiped out his way of life, killed his worlds, chased the remainder of his people across the galaxy for nearly twenty-three yahrens, and now threatened his new home and neighbors. No more running. That was about to end now.
"Use the disintegrators," he roared once more. "Full power!"
The team complied and quickly the doors, protective covering and everything in front of them started coming apart under isomagnetic disintegrator fire. Then two photon and two solonite grenades were launched directly at the protected Cylon resistance. The concussive force knocked every back and the only thing remaining was a piece of the door. And a very large, deep hole in front of it.
His team ran thru the wreckage and reached the door. Two-dozen grenades were launched into the bunker. Multiple explosions shook the entire complex and even before the explosions had died down, three of the Colonials burst into the room firing their heavy weapons into the smoke. The second warrior grunted slightly as an anti-photon beam hit him in the chest. He disappeared without a trace. The rest of the time went thru and began firing. Cylons broke apart or simply vaporized under the assault, while in turn, men and women screamed and died.
Five minutes and thirty-one deaths later, the weapons bunker was secured.
"Set the charges!"
Commander Thompson had just enough time to duck as a bright yellowish beam eviscerated the area of wall that his head was just in front of. Once more he thanked the defensive members who carried portable shield generators instead of offensive weapons. Their directed actions had prevented the deaths of the majority of the people under his command inside this crowded hallway. Their defensive fields stopped the enemies high-powered and highly radioactive energy weapon from killing his entire group with the first few second so this conflict. But they had a new problem. The Cylons were among them. Two and a half meter metal monsters had gone after the defensive personnel, crushing anything in the paths, and the Feds defended them for all that they were worth. One soldier fired his weapon point blank into the chest wall of a combat gold fighter. The Cylon stood there taking the full brunt of the blast just so that it could smash the soldier caring the directed shield emitter. The arms hit the soldier, but there wasn't much force as the rest of the robot had vaporized. Still, the weight of the arms knocked the man out of action. Next to him was another soldier performing a tight sweep of his ACRR-MT-12 on full auto at three incoming silver robots, one of which had just picked a man up by his helmet, crushing his head, before throwing him some twenty meters down the hallway into a wall.
A few seconds later, all twenty-two of the Cylons lay on the ground, in various stages of destruction. But the soldiers weren't talking any chances and phaser and disintegrator fire turned the remains into vapor.
Thompson looked back in shock. There were bodies everywhere. For a second, the sight paralyzed him and he knew that this sight would haunt his dreams fro the rest of his life. But this wasn't the time for it and he pushed those thoughts away. In front of them, stood the main control section. And to their left stood two Cylons barring the way, one carrying a very large pulse weapon. Instantly he and his squadron were on alert.
The first one was familiar to them all. It was golden with a single cyclopean eye pulsing back and forth serenely as calm as it pleased. However, the other one was less familiar. It was golden like the others that had attacked them, but the head was pointed. That one turned towards a very wary Thompson and spoke.
"You are the leader?"
"Yes," he answered. His weapon was pointed at the thing in front of him. If it so much as twitched, he intended to blow it out of existence. And he was more than happy to see that by the way his squad held their weapons, they had similar thoughts. "Put down your weapons."
"We are weapons," the Golden Lord answered in a very un-robotic, smug tone. "You and your related species have been slated for destruction, superior numbers notwithstanding. I admit that we made a mistake here," Lord Medut acknowledged. "It is one that will never happen again. Our next base will be fully designed with organics infiltrator in mind."
"There won't be a next time for you. Surrender, or we will destroy you."
The second Cylon began to point his weapon-which was considered by everyone as a 'twitch'-and was promptly hit by a dozen beams and MT-12 rounds. It was phased and ripped from existence before its remains hit could the ground.
The Cylon Lord managed to fire its built-in weapons into the main control section before it to was destroyed. Damage was significant but it failed to destroy the computer controls that showed the positions of all of the mines situated in the Katasi nebula. And twenty minutes later, they had all the information they required. They could now track and destroy the mines in safety.
"That was too easy," Randford muttered. Her Ops training was screaming red flags at this victory.
"Never look a gift horse in the mouth," someone else countered.
For his part, Thompson said nothing. The charges were set, the support ships were returning and they were still alive. The other teams had suffered causalities but had also achieved their objects. But he was thinking along the same lines and his shipmates. It had been a little too easy. Now the next part of the mission could begin.
"Call for pick," he ordered. "Let's leave this soulless place."
The Katasi Solar System
The Colonial Battlestars Pegasus, and the rest of team Wildstar jumped into normal space moments before the first of the Cylon patrol ships began their attack runs. Hundreds of single manned Colonial Viper II's poured out of the massive ship, followed closely by an equal number of two-men Federation Peregrines carried by converted Nebulas. Fifty K'vort Klingon Bird-of-preys and New Orleans class starships, plus another fifty Federation Sabers backed them up. Their objective was the subspace accelerator weapon orbiting what remained of the fourth planet in the Katasi star system. The Pegasus under the control of Commander Sheba, and its escort group of twenty upgraded Adders, moved in the direction of the orbiting defense station that had begun firing at the ships.
The Cylons responded quickly and within minutes large numbers of smaller Cylon fighters of every description engaged the combined fleet. The Wildfire fleet responded with a solid wall of photon and quantum torpedoes that wiped out nearly a thousand ships. But that allowed a new wave to get into attack range. Cylon raiders, Hunter-Killers and Destroyers, now fought with Federation Peregrines, Defiant-class, upgraded Mirandas and New Orleans, Colonial Vipers, Cobras and Klingon Bird-of-preys. Now skill and luck would make the difference between success and failure. There was no quarter asked for or given and men and women died, and Cylons ceased to exist at levels previously unimagined. But there was no choice, if the Alpha quadrant lost this battle, there would be little to stand in the Cylons way, from turning into a carnal house. Yes, There were other powers in the region, but very likely would not come together fast enough to resist the Cylons.
Commander Sheba and her escort group fired on the anti-capital weapons surrounding the weapons platform and they also started pelting the planet's surface with high-yield Solonite tipped missiles, in an effort to destroy the planetary defense field protecting the weapon.
In a modified Adder next to her Battlestars was Commander Cain, giving orders to Wildfire command. This was the time when her father was truly alive.
The Cylons had prepared for this attack for months, and were ready. Their production facilities had been strained to their maximums to produce enough materiel to repel this invasion. But the main defensive force was stopped short. Another signature at appeared on their sensors. It was the main enemy Battle group, comprised of Federation, Klingon and even a few Romulan warships numbering close to seven hundred ships of all classifications, the largest fleet ever assembled by one force in the Alpha quadrant, including the Dominion war. This, they expected, but what surprised the Cylons was the presence of several Gorn warships. They were not engaging, but simply observing.
The first wave of forty Hellions backed up by an equal number of Extremes and their support ships, began gathering for an attack against the main group.
Admiral Janeway onboard the USS Voyager, and Admiral Avonne onboard the USS Melbourne, commanded by Captain William Riker, ordered the first group to engage the forces coming towards them.
"Admiral Avonne," She ordered. "Start your attack. Chancellor Martok, let us begin."
The leader of the Klingons merely grunted in satisfaction. Then half of his fleet powered up and went after the second set of Cylon warships congregating near their flank.
Admiral Avonne and his battle fleet slammed into the Cylon defensive ships rushing to meet them. Smaller Federation ships weaved and dodged in between the larger Cylon Basestars whose defensive shields strained and glowed, fighting against the energies directed at them. The Cylons returned fire, their anti-proton beams destroying starships shields and punching holes through the ships themselves. Because of the speed of those smaller ships, the Cylons couldn't train their heavy weapons on them, but their idea of smaller weapons were sufficient to bring down a starship.
In the distance, Janeway observed the Klingon and Romulan strike force hitting the rearguard Cylon fleet. The surrounding area where the two fleets met glowed with a ferocity that threatened to match the nearby nebula.
Onboard Voyager, Lieutenant Wright received urgent communiqué from Commander Cain. The man was livid.
"Why haven't you begun the attack," he nearly yelled. "You haven't started your attack on the factory. We're losing our window of opportunity! This is not the time to stand idly by and wait. Strike now, while you can."
"Not yet," she answered and had him cut off. The factory defenses were powerful enough to repel any attack.
"Admiral, Commander Tuvok said. "We have missiles locked onto our locations.
"Give the order for evasives, defensive fire only. Do not attack the complex, until I give the order."
Imperious Leader Lucifer stood motionless, along with the Imperium supreme watching the battle unfold. Their subs-space transceivers took in all reports. Lucifer was satisfied with the progress so far. But there was one weakness among his larger ships that they hadn't accounted for. There were so many ships in the area that the subspace warp fields were tearing up subspace in the immediate area. In a few yahrens, faster than light travel would be impossible using warp drive. But that was in the future. Its processors flashed quicker as two of his Extremes made an error, hitting the target and each other, destroying the target but damaging themselves in the process. Both were obliterated moments later by quantum torpedoes penetrated deep into unshielded, damaged areas.
Even with the addition of the Romulan contingent, the forces arrayed against them were larger than anticipated, but not insurmountable. The factory and the anti-capital defenses would successfully repel any attack. Even if this attack succeeded somehow succeeded and everything was destroyed, it would mean nothing. This entire complex was nothing more than a minor piece in a much larger game.
The Imperium Supreme was however less patient. "Power up the array now. We will destroy the secondary target." Once fired, in ninety centars, the planet called Andoria by the Federation would ceases to exist.
"By the command," Lucifer intoned. It gave the order and the system began its activation sequence, even as Wildfire fought its way through countless enemy defenders.
Suddenly, the entire IL leadership froze for an instant. As one, they felt and acknowledged the transwarp signature forming in front of their command station. They were not pleased with this interference by their so-called allies and future enemies.
Three vessels emerged from the opening. Two Borg spheres and one Combat cube appeared decelerating instantly, taking station-keeping in front of Cylon Command and Control. The transmission from one of two spheres overrode all subspace signals. "WE ARE THE BORG. THE MISSION MUST NOT BE JEPORDIZED. WE WILL ASSIST."
Imperious Leader's response was immediate. "The assistance of the Borg is appreciated, but not required at this time," it said dispassionately. Their presence had nothing to do with helping as much as it was to keep an eye on things. With their presence here, the enemy may not even pursue their plans, opting instead to pull back and develop a more defensive stance. However the Cylons wanted them to attack, to waste lives and resources in a futile battle. The Federation needed to be bled before the final strikes could occur.
"THE MISSION MUST PROCEED. YOUR CONCERNS ARE IRREVELENT. WE WILL ASSIST." Then the Borg began to transmit directly to Starfleet. "WE ARE THE BORG. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. YOU WILL LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER. YOUR LIFE AS YOU HAVE KNOWN IT WILL CEASE. YOU WILL SERVICE US. ADMIRAL JANEWAY, YOU WILL SURRENDER YOURSELF TO THE BORG. SEVEN OF NINE, RETURN HOME. LOCUTUS, YOU WILL SURRENDER YOURSELF AND THE ENTERPRISE TO THE BORG."
Lucifer, and the Imperium Supreme suppressed urges to direct all of their considerable firepower at those arrogant abominations floating there, issuing orders. But there was a war to fight, and for now the Borg would be tolerated, until the time was right to eliminate those cybernetic abominations.
But there was another problem quickly developing. The larger Basestars couldn't be use to their maximum effectiveness as the hundreds of smaller ships both, enemy and friendly, maneuvered about in intricate dances trying to keep from being destroyed. They were ordered to retreat but each time the accursed Federation moved with the battle to keep relative position within the perimeter. The result was that several Basestars had been needlessly damaged or destroyed, unable to use their heavier firepower to full effect. Reluctantly, the Cylon group mind conceded that the presence of the Borg might negate this unexpected disadvantage.
"The weapon is reorienting itself." The revelation chilled Cain's heart. The ring-shaped transmitter, composed of duotronium-neutronium alloys, two point three seven kilometers in diameter, perfectly circular in shape, began its characteristic glow, signaling its intent. The internal rings had begun to rotate violently. Normally anchored to the planet by artificial gravity generators, it was now independent, auto correcting its every movement. The artifact began glowing as it charged itself.
They had waited too long, just as he had repeatedly told them! Even now, as he berated himself for not pushing harder the computer was announcing its analysis of the intended target.
Andoria.
Admiral Hurshu's people.