REUNION

A Star Trek/Battlestar Galactica Crossover Tale

by Robert Perkins

CHAPTER SIX

THE DELPHIC EXPANSE, 18 APRIL 2153, EARTH STANDARD CALENDAR.

Commander Lee Adama, accompanied by Chief Galen Tyrol, sat in the passenger seats of a Raptor as it approached the Earth vessel, ENTERPRISE, itself in orbit above an unnamed planet in this odd region of space which the Earthlings called the Delphic Expanse. Several thousand kilometers away, the battlestar PEGASUS also orbited the planet, having just arrived here a short time ago, per the agreement forged between Admiral Adama and Captain Archer of the ENTERPRISE for assistance in building a specially designed explorer craft incorporating both Earth and Colonial technology. As they approached the shuttlepod landing bays, the doors of one of which was already opening, they heard the voice of Hoshi Sato, the communications officer of the ENTERPRISE, come over the speakers.

"Hold Position for retrieval, Raptor One," Sato said.

"Affirmative, ENTERPRISE," replied the Raptor's pilot, Lieutenant Shawn Carter. "Holding position."

Adama looked out of the canopy, upwards toward the open bay door, and saw a mechanical arm, equipped with a magnetic pad, extend out from the landing bay and toward the Raptor. The pad passed out of sight from the Raptor's canopy, and there was a soft thump as it made contact with the metal skin of the spacecraft. To their amazement, the arm lifted them upwards, moving them deftly through the narrow landing bay doors and holding the Raptor suspended while the doors shut beneath them. Then it gently set them down on top of the doors, which now formed the landing bay floor.

"Please remain inside your craft while the bay repressurizes," they heard Sato's voice say.

"Affirmative," Carter said.

Adama noticed some flashing red lights on one of the landing bay walls which suddenly turned a solid green, just as Sato's voice spoke again. "The bay is repressurized. You may safely exit your craft. Welcome to the ENTERPRISE."

"Affirmative, and thank you," Carter replied. He hit a button on his panel and the side door of the Raptor swung upwards. Commander Adama, followed by Chief Tyrol, stepped out and onto the deck of the bay. They were greeted by the ENTERPRISE's First Officer, Subcommander T'Pol, and Commander Tucker, the ship's engineer.

"Welcome aboard the ENTERPRISE," T'Pol said, before introducing herself and her companion.

"It's good to be here," Commander Adama said, smiling and trying not to look shocked at his first view of a non-human alien. T'Pol saw that, and her right eyebrow raised slightly in bemusement. For her part, as humans went, she thought Commander Adama was a handsome man, dressed in a well-tailored black military uniform, and quite young for one entrusted with command of a vessel as large and impressive as the PEGASUS. Adama turned to his companions. Adama pointed to the shorter, stockier man with wavy dark hair and eyes who stood beside him, dressed in an orange coverall with what looked like rubber pockets and white reflective stripes on it. "This is Chief Galen Tyrol." He smiled. "The Chief designed and built a working fighter craft for us a while back, using spare parts and waste materials we had on board ship, so I thought his experience might be useful."

"It might just, at that," Trip said. He extended his hand to the Chief. "Always good to meet another Hot Rodder," he said, grinning.

Chief Tyrol took Trip's hand, a puzzled look on his face. "Hot Rodder?" he asked.

"An old Earth term for somebody who likes to build or modify his own vehicles, using whatever materials are at hand," Trip said. The Chief smiled and nodded.

"We have begun work on an appropriate design," T'Pol said. "We would welcome your input and suggestions."

"Of course," Adama said.

Led by T'Pol, the group left the launch bay. A few minutes later, they arrived at a room which had evidently been converted from an empty crewman's quarters...now uninhabited since the death of the crewman who had formerly lived there...into a design room where work on the new explorer craft was being done by Commander Tucker and others from the ENTERPRISE crew. A large table, covered with engineering drawings, occupied the center of the room, and there were several computer terminals along one wall.

"The big unknown," Trip said to the Chief, "is what sort of stresses the FTL jump engines might cause on the structural frame of the craft."

"I can give you that information, and help you with modifying your design to deal with them," Chief Tyrol said.

Trip smiled. "I had hoped you could," he said. Looking at Commander Adama, he said, "Lieutenant Edmondson says you have a factory facility aboard your vessel which can fabricate parts."

"Yes," Adama said. "It is at your disposal."

"We have very few facilities to construct a new spacecraft here on ENTERPRISE," Trip said. "Your assistance in that will be a Godsend."

Lee nodded. "We're happy to help." He bent over to examine the design drawings on the table, then looked up at Trip.

"Have you considered adding stealth features to the ship?"

"Stealth features?" Trip asked.

"The Chief designed a recon craft for us which was made of special materials which made detection by DRADIS difficult," Lee replied. "The materials were black which made visual identification of it in space very difficult as well. It wouldn't make it totally invisible...the energy signatures the ship emits could still be picked up, for example. But it might give some advantage on the type of missions for which this vessel will be used."

Trip rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We hadn't thought of that. We know the Romulans are working with some sort of cloaking technology that seems to work by bending light waves to render the ship invisible, and we had written that off as impractical. But your idea might just work. As you say, it wouldn't be perfect, but it might be helpful." He looked back at Lee. "Could this stuff be applied as a covering or coating over a duranium-alloy hull?

"Well, I'm not sure what duranium is," Chief Tyrol put in. "But I don't see why the material could not be applied as a covering over a metal hull. It should work that way."

T-Pol looked at Trip. "Commander, how long do you think it will take to construct the vessel, once the design is finalized?"

"With the assistance of the PEGASUS factory facilities, my guess is not more than a few days," Trip said.

"The sooner, the better, Commander," T'Pol said.

Trip slapped Chief Tyrol on the back. "The Chief and I'll get to work immediately on the design. With luck, we'll have it finished by this time tomorrow."

Chief Tyrol grinned. "Yes, Commander."

"Call me Trip," Tucker said. The Chief nodded.

"Excellent," T'Pol said. "Keep me informed of your progress." Turning to Commander Adama, she said, "Commander, if you will accompany me, I'll give you a tour of the bridge."

Lee smiled. He was quite taken by the exotic looking alien woman. "I'd love to," he said.

As T'Pol and Adama left the room, Trip watched them go, a slight frown on his face. Then he shook it off, and, turning to the Chief, he said, "Well, we've got a lot of work to do. What do you say I have Chef send down some sandwiches and coffee?"

"Sandwiches and coffee?" the Chief asked.

"An old Earth staple," Trip replied, a slightly mischievous look in his eye. "Meat and vegetables between two slices of bread, intended to be easily consumed by busy people. Accompanied by a stimulant beverage intended to keep them awake until their work is done."

"Oh," the Chief said, "that sounds good."

"You got it," Trip said, then moved to a com-panel to place the order.

Chief watched him as he did so. Odd people, these Earthlings, he thought to himself. But I think I'm going to like them.

ABOARD THE STARLINER ZEPHYR, DAY 277 SINCE THE FALL OF THE TWELVE COLONIES (20 APRIL 2153, EARTH STANDARD CALENDAR)

On the day of the second of three Presidential Debates, President Laura Roslin sat in the back of a Raptor which was transporting her from her own vessel, COLONIAL ONE, to the star-liner ZEPHYR, where the debate would be held. With her were her secretary, Tory Foster, and Captain Jonathan Archer, who was interested to watch the debate and see how democracy aboard the Colonial Fleet functioned. As they approached the ZEPHYR, Roslin reflected that the debate was originally to have been held on the far more luxurious CLOUD NINE. Unfortunately, the CLOUD NINE...along with four other ships and nearly eleven thousand Colonial survivors...no longer existed.

In the aftermath of the CLOUD NINE explosion, Admiral Adama had called for the imposition of martial law on the fleet and the postponement of the Colonial elections, which were scheduled to take place in six days. Roslin had refused. It was important, she had told Adama, to go through with the elections, to demonstrate to everyone in the fleet that the Colonial Government was not intimidated by terrorists, and would continue to govern democratically, no matter what.

Governing democratically, as it happened, had been rendered somewhat difficult by the events of the past few days. Most of the Quorum of Twelve had been aboard the CLOUD NINE when it was converted to a floating cloud of space debris by the detonation of a nuclear device, just five days ago now. Roslin was basically ruling by edict at the moment, pending the selection of new delegates for the Quorum representing the survivors of each colony. Elections for those posts would be held on the same day as the Presidential election.

Her reverie was broken by Captain Archer, who was peering out of the front canopy at the ZEPHYR, taking in the needle-like hull and the large ring which made up the aft end of the vessel.

"That's an interesting design," he said, smiling as he turning back to Roslin. "It somewhat resembles the design of Vulcan starships." Then the smile left his face, replaced by a look of concern. "Are you sure you want to go through with this, Madame President? Given the disaster your people have just suffered, Admiral Adama's call for martial law might be justified."

"Yes," Roslin replied. "The decision is made, and we're going through with the election."

Archer smiled. "I respect your decision, Madame President."

Tory Foster grinned. "You might as well have canceled the debate, Laura. The polls show that you're so far ahead of Baltar that he has no chance. If anything, your popularity has increased following the destruction of the CLOUD NINE. People are rallying around the administration."

"But Tom Zarek's supporters, and the Demand Peace movement, are still out there," Roslin said. "And if we canceled the election, both of them would shout from the rooftops that Admiral Adama and I were imposing a dictatorship."

"I know," Tory said. "But who would listen?"

"More people than you might think," Roslin said. "No, its better to go through with the election as planned."

Shortly afterward, the Raptor landed on the ZEPHYR's landing bay, and the passengers, joined by the two Marines whom Admiral Adama had assigned as a security detail, exited the vessel. A crowd of Roslin's supporters were there to greet them, and chants of "One More Term!" filled the air. Roslin smiled and shook hands with some of those in the front row before heading off toward the landing bay exits.

As they were passing through a hallway which had been sealed off to allow the President's party unimpeded access to the hall where the debate was to be held, they passed a maintenance worker, dressed in a tan coverall with large, black rubber pockets and a round cap on his head, swabbing the floor of the hallway with an old-fashioned mop. He tipped his hat to the President as she passed, and she smiled and nodded in return. They took a few steps past the man, then they heard the mop clatter to the floor.

"Demand Peace!" the man shouted.

As the Marines spun around to face him in an effort to protect the President, they saw it was already too late. The man already had an automatic pistol drawn, and he rapidly squeezed the trigger. POP, POP, POP, POP, POP, POP...six rounds were fired in rapid succession. One of the Marines went down, shot in the face as he raised his own weapon to fire. The other was hit in the arm (as well as by two other rounds which slammed into his bullet-proof vest), but managed to fire a quick burst of sub-machine gun fire which cut the assailant down where he stood. But it was too late. President Roslin lay on the floor, a bullet hole above her right eye. Captain Archer quickly knelt beside her, and putting his ear close to her face, heard her breathing.

"She's still alive," he said to the Marine, who quickly nodded and tapped the button on the radio strapped to his wrist.

"I need a med-team here immediately," he shouted, tears running down his face. "The President's been shot."

"Oh, my gods!," Tory Foster shrieked. "Laura!" She dropped to her knees, and cradled the President's head in her arms.

"Affirmative," he heard the voice of Anastasia Dualla over the radio. "The ZEPHYR's med-staff is being notified."

A few minutes later, President Roslin having been quickly packed up for transport by the ZEPHYR's med-techs, she was placed back aboard the RAPTOR and given an emergency transport to GALACTICA, where the most advanced medical facilities in the fleet were located. Upon arrival on GALACTICA, she was rushed to sick bay, where Doctor Cottle examined her. Admiral Adama joined Captain Archer as Cottle reported his findings.

"Well, she's alive, which is amazing," Cottle said. "The MRI pictures show that the assassin used an exploding bullet, but it failed to detonate. It seems to have passed cleanly through the right hemisphere of the President's brain, but did not exit from the rear of her skull. Fortunately, it was a relatively small caliber bullet, and the damage done as it passed through the brain was less than it might have been. She's an extremely lucky woman." He took a drag of the cigarette which was hanging from one corner of his mouth, then stubbed it out in a nearby ashtray. "The gods must be looking out for her, that's all I've got to say."

"Will she recover?" Admiral Adama asked.

"I don't know," Cottle said. "I think she's got a good chance, but with a brain injury...it's just hard to be certain."

Just at that moment, there was a commotion outside the door of sickbay.

"I am the Vice President of the Twelve Colonies," they heard Gaius Baltar's voice shrilly exclaim. "I demand to be admitted!"

"Let him in," Admiral Adama called. The marines guarding the entrance stepped aside, and Baltar stepped through. Coming to stand next to the bed, he looked down on the President.

"Gods," he said, turning to look at Adama. "How did this happen?"

"The President's party was accosted by what appeared to be a maintenance worker on the ZEPHYR," Adama said. "The man shouted 'Demand Peace' before opening fire."

"Was the assassin taken alive?" Baltar asked.

"No," Adama replied. "He was not."

"Pity, that," Baltar said, a serious look on his face. He felt the angel behind him. She whispered in his ear.

"The gods help those who help themselves," she said.

Baltar looked quickly over his shoulder at the angel, his eyes wide. Then he turned back to Dr. Cottle.

"What is her prognosis, Doctor?" he asked.

"As I was telling the Admiral, she's alive," Cottle said. He lit another cigarette, and took a long drag. "She's in a coma. Whether or when she'll come out of it, I can't say at this time." He gave Baltar a sour look. "I guess that means, for the time being, that you're the President of the Colonies."

Baltar looked at Adama. He well knew that he might legally hold the title, but it meant nothing without the acquiescence of the military. "Admiral?" he asked.

Adama gave him a long, hard look. If it had been left up to him, he would have refused and declared martial law immediately. But he could still hear Laura's words, ringing in his ears, spoken when she had been dying of cancer, a few weeks before. Baltar is the Vice President. He must be allowed to succeed me.

"Mr. Vice President," he said, "I must tell you that I have...reservations." He paused before speaking again. "But it is the stated wish of President Roslin that, in the event of her death or disablement, I support the peaceful transfer of power to her legal successor. I will abide by those wishes." He turned to Tory Foster, who stood nearby. "Please arrange for the Vice President to be sworn into office as Acting President within the hour."

"Yes, Admiral," Tory said, and left the room.

"Acting President?" Baltar asked.

"She's not dead yet, and she may recover," Adama said.

"Of course," Baltar said. "Of course."

He heard the angel laughing. "She won't recover," she said. "Zarek will make sure of that. Your destiny is upon you, Gaius."

Captain Archer, who was standing nearby, spoke up. "Admiral, meaning no disrespect, but the medical facilities on my ship are much better than those available here, and our doctor is one of the top physicians in our part of the galaxy. I'd like to offer the use of both in the treatment of President Roslin's injuries."

"Do something!" the angel hissed at Baltar.

"Are you sure that's necessary?" Baltar suddenly exclaimed. "Wouldn't it be more dangerous to move her than to leave her here under the care of Dr. Cottle?"

"No, I quite agree," Cottle said. "She's been stabilized and it should be safe to transport her."

"Stop them!" the angel demanded shrilly.

"How?" Baltar blurted out, turning to face the angel.

"How what, Doctor Baltar?" Cottle asked.

Baltar quickly turned back to Cottle. "How...do you know she's stable enough for travel? Brain injuries, they're tricky things."

"As I was explaining to the Admiral, President Roslin is very lucky. The damage is much less severe than it could have been," Cottle replied. "Although any brain injury is bad enough. But I am willing to certify her safe for travel."

"And if Dr. Cottle believes it is safe for her to be transported, that's good enough for me," Adama said.

Baltar nodded, a worried look on his face. "Of course, Admiral," he said.

"May the gods protect her," Cottle said.

"So say we all!" Adama exclaimed.

"So say we all," Baltar repeated. He saw the angel standing nearby, shaking her head in dismay. Ignoring her, Baltar looked into Adama's eyes. "So say we all."