Colonial Battlestar Galactica
Adama waved the CIC staff back to work as his captor guided him through the room, flanked by Galactica marines. The crew were ready to strike. He could see it in their eyes. They would do anything for the ship, and for him. It made Bill proud. They'd tear her apart right now if he gave the order. But the cost would be bloody. There was no doubt this woman was very highly trained. Besides, he wasn't about to go back on his word. He had honor.
"Back to your stations, this situation is being handled," he told them sternly.
They lingered their threatening gazes on the intruder for a moment before reluctantly turning around. Olivia received the message loud and clear. They loathed her for what she was doing. But she wasn't about to lose her composure just because some angry ship crew looked at her menacingly. She'd faced considerably worse during her time with Cerberus. A disgruntled human was hardly comparable to a berserk krogan.
She pushed her quarry onwards, and they continued walking until they were out of the CIC. They reached the memorial wall soon, and Adama stopped, turning to look at Olivia.
"Do you know what this hallway is? What it represents?"
"A memorial of some kind no doubt," she shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant manner, keeping the gun trained on him.
"Yes, it's a hallway of remembrance. All these faces you see are people who died at the hands of the Cylons. Husbands, wives, daughters, sons… Do you really want to add more faces to this wall?" he looked at her sternly.
She tried to suppress a laugh. Was he trying to guilt trip her into surrendering? She would've never made so far in Cerberus if she was one to harbour guilt about one thing or another. Besides, they were the ones who reportedly tried to gain access to the Capua. They were the ones who took prisoners, and they were the ones who had such lax security that breaking out had been child's play. If anything, she was acting in self-defence against a group of people who seemed all too eager to condemn her for being a Cylon, whatever the hell that was.
"I appreciate the descriptive tour, Admiral, but we should really get a move on. We've yet another stop to make before we leave."
"What stop? This isn't part of our agreement!"
The marines looked to each other uneasily. What could she possibly be planning now?
"Don't worry, it's on the way," she replied cryptically.
The group kept walking in silence through the next couple of hallways, their boots drumming out a monotonous rhythm as they struck the metal floor. They were passing by the president's ambush site. Olivia motioned for the group to stop. She activated her omni-tool, spawning a hovering drone approximately the size of a basketball.
"W-what the frak is that?" the leader of the marines asked as the escort trained their assault rifles on the drone. Adama eyed the hovering ball warily.
"It's a combat drone, if you move, do anything it deems threatening, it will kill you all," as if on cue, the drone aimed its targeting lasers at the party. The marines were taking the warning fairly seriously.
It was nothing but a ruse of course. Her omni-tool was made to deploy cloak and dagger programs, not combat drones. They were better suited to combat engineers. The thing she spawned was a simple hologram. She was counting on the marines being too cautious of the novel experience to do anything about it. If they made a go for it, they'd quickly discover it was only a fancy light show.
Olivia quickly popped open the vent containing her armor, set down the assault rifle, and began to strip down the uniform she'd borrowed. The young men couldn't help but stare at her body in the skin tight jumpsuit. It didn't take long to put on the familiar armor. They were still staring at her as she donned the helm and buckled her weapons, including the M11 Suppressor she'd had hidden in the Kevlar vest.
"What's the matter? Never seen a lady with a sword?" she pretended like she didn't know why they held their gazes that long. It was amusing to see them squirm awkwardly.
Adama sighed and passed his hand through the supposedly dangerous drone. The hologram flickered and resumed its previous shape after a second.
"Nice trick… it was harmless all along wasn't it?" he rolled his eyes and shook his head. Perhaps if the marines weren't busy gawking a few moments earlier, they could've used the opportunity.
His reply was an impassive look from the four glowing slits on the woman's helmet. Smug bitch was probably smiling inside. He didn't like the look of the thing. There was something decidedly inhuman about the helmet. It seemed to exude an aura of menace and intimidation which was noticeably discomforting. Had he known about the reputation of those who wore such helmets, that discomfort would most certainly have been fear.
As they were about to move off, Olivia remembered the soldier she'd stuck in another vent. She walked over and opened the grate, revealing the marine who was now beginning to stir awake. The escort looked on in mute surprise.
"So you just gonna stand there or help your comrade?" One of the marines snapped out of it and rushed forth. The rest of them began to move as the infiltrator poked Adama in the back with her gun.
Adama grimaced in annoyance. How the hell did everyone forget to check the vents? The woman could've stuffed a bomb in there for Gods' sake! At that moment, he realised that she didn't truly wish them harm. The amount of opportunities she had to cause widespread damage and decapitate fleet leadership were staggering; and yet she took none of them. Was she just toying with them, a cruel joke before she sent all of them to their already arranged deaths? He hoped that wasn't the case.
It would be a humiliating way to go. He realised how tired and angry he was, and how badly his feelings had affected his judgement. They were all in this shit position because of him. If he'd taken a break and allowed Saul to take command for a while, he would've cooled down and not made any rash decisions. If he'd simply been more aware, cautious…
He stopped his thoughts before they ran any further. This was not the time to dwell on what ifs. Adama had to focus on the here and now. It would be difficult to concentrate his tired brain, but it had to be done lest he made any more avoidable blunders.
In light of his earlier thoughts, he began to analyse the details further. They'd all assumed the woman was a Cylon. But was that really the case? She seemed to want some answers earlier, but was cut short by the marines. He remembered her being rather confused about the term skinjob. Furthermore, if she was a Cylon, why keep denying it? Whatever cover she may have had was long blown by now. The technologies she carried were unlike anything he'd ever seen on Cylons or indeed, Colonials.
It all pointed to her being a completely different party… or an overly convincing, highly elaborate Cylon ruse. No, they wouldn't go this far. It was ridiculous. But… could she possibly be… from Earth? Adama didn't dare keep that thought in his head for longer than a second. It was unlikely, and would only lead to disappointment. Maybe he could just ask her though.
However, as they were drawing ever closer to the hangar, the silence was so heavy that none felt like breaking it. Olivia was likewise gathering her thoughts. At the forefront of her mind was the other person from the Capua that was captured alongside her. Some engineer or mechanic or some such by the name of Kimber. She'd instructed him to be ready in the hangar, but she had no way of knowing if he'd be there or not. Jensen didn't want to contact him either as the transmission could be intercepted. She wasn't about to risk blowing whatever effort he was making at staying concealed. He'd better bloody be there or she'd end up with a very tough dilemma, or worse…
The marines were practically upon the enemy at this stage, shouting at him to hold his hands out. He didn't budge. Just stood there with a relatively neutral expression on his face, completely ignoring their commands. They could've sworn he wasn't even moving.
"Alright, that's enough, get the frakker on the ground boys!" one of them shouted, the marines on either side moving in to grab the bastard and force him to lie down.
As soon as they touched him, there was the sound of thunder as the trio were struck by an electric discharge. They were stunned, convulsing in pain as their uniforms smoked, the marines at the rear of the target already rushing to aid them.
Kimber had placed a decoy hologram in the middle of the hall, and hugged the wall slightly ahead, switching on a very basic cloaking program. Neither his armor nor his omni tool were designed for extensive high quality cloaking, so he'd have to remain very still and pressed up against the wall to maintain it. The plan was incredibly arrogant; you didn't need to have any fancy detection equipment to spot the illusion. But amazingly, it worked. The pursuers clearly never expected this sort of tactic being employed, much less the nasty shock decoy.
He didn't waste any time sprinting away from the hunters, legs pumping rhythmically up and down, carrying him down the hallway. It wasn't long before he felt the ominous pings and twangs of bullets ricocheting off his kinetic barrier. The marines had recovered quicker than he'd anticipated. Kimber would have to break their line of sight, try to lose them while maintaining a heading for the other hangar bay. They'd likely anticipate that though, and would take appropriate measures. But perhaps he could use his technological edge to fight past them if need be.
The little spy drones he'd deployed earlier were life savers, helping him avoid walking into checkpoints, or just people in general. Kimber knew that his luck had to run out; after all, past a certain point there would not be any electric eyes to rely on. He promised himself he'd try to use non-lethal weaponry in the case of a fight. The death of the marine he'd shot in the face was not forgotten. The grim state of affairs was keeping his emotions packed away in the back of his mind for now, but he knew once it was over that poor marine's death would haunt him.
The only relatively non-lethal, easily deployable programs he had access to were Overload and Decoy. Incinerate was out of the question. As for any other programs, it would require time to configure his omni tool – time he didn't have. Likewise, it would be important to end or flee fights quickly. His jumpsuit's shields were very basic; better than that of a civilian model, but nowhere near as powerful as ones used by field operatives. He was only a mechanic after all. Hypervelocity rounds or not, enough bullets would break them quickly.
He kept running, finally making it past the area of coverage for his little spies. Best he could do at this stage was send a drone a few metres in front of himself so that it could peek around corners at junctions. There was some foot traffic from non-combat personnel, so he slowed his pace to a jog. Nobody should suspect him that way, seeing as he still had the deck crew overalls on. Kimber doubted that the security teams would go announcing him to the entire ship; the people in the bar/refugee camp seemed relatively calm. It was likely that only the top officers and armed forces were aware of the escaped prisoners. Telling everyone else could start a panic, and an even worse witch hunt.
After a short while the flow of movement tapered off, until he was left on his own in the hall once again. He increased his speed. He knew he was close now, but couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. The hallways had been empty far too long now. Kimber felt an immense surge of adrenaline as a group of five marines sprang out from behind crates arranged along the sides of the corridor. The probe flying ahead of him hadn't detected them in time, and he ran right into the trap.
"Stop right there Cylon scum!" one of them shouted, but it was clear that they weren't actually looking to take him alive as the rest opened fire before he finished uttering the challenge.
Time seemed to slow for Kimber as he loped right at them. He could see the hate etched into their faces, furious spittle flying out of their mouths, mingling with the smoke from the weapon barrels as they bellowed unintelligible cries of vengeance. He could see the bullets ramming into his shield, the transparent cerulean halo guarding his body growing ever dimmer with each impact. Without really thinking about it, his hand was already in motion, surrounded by a familiar orange glow. Coruscating blue energy lanced out from the omni tool, striking one of the aggressors in the chest. It didn't stop there, but kept going to hit another two marines. One of their weapons exploded, effectively amputating that particular marine's hands. He screamed in pure, primal agony before passing out from the crushing pain.
The stench of singed hair, ozone, gunpowder and burnt meat was overwhelming as Kimber bore down on the last two marines left standing. The others were writhing in fits and spasms on the floor after the chain electrocution. His shield was just about gone. The Service Chief used one of the smaller crates as a launch-pad in order to deliver a solid flying cross into the face of the man in front of him. Instead, he was sent tumbling into him off balance as his barrier finally caved, letting a round pass into his shoulder. The sudden shock of pain hit him like a freight train, cutting off his adrenaline fuelled battle trance.
The two men fell to the floor in a disordered heap. Unfortunately for Kimber, the marine was the first to regain the initiative, scrambling off the ground and ending Kimber's attempt at a recovery with a wild smack to the head. He saw black spots in his eyes as the back of his head thumped off the floor, struggling with the disorientation and his wounded shoulder while trying to ward off blows from the enemy who was now sitting on top of him. Punch after punch rained down upon him, his arms growing weaker and weaker as they took each blow meant for his face. The warrior who'd shot him was shouting encouragement to the man beating him up, or perhaps it was a call for backup into his radio; he couldn't tell. Either way, they seemed intent on torture and killing. Kimber could understand why they'd think such, but they had another thing coming if they thought he would just give up.
He bucked hard with his hips, surprising the marine, and delivered a quick punch to his face. But it seemed the assaulter was equally determined, and redoubled his efforts by sticking his fingers into Kimber's shoulder wound. He howled in pain and fury. Enough was enough. The omni tool on his arm sprang to life, enshrouding his fist in a flaming gauntlet. He swiped his fiery knuckles across the assailant's face, blinding and burning him. The marine clutched at himself, no longer attempting to stay on top of Kimber, falling off to the side as the service chief bucked him off.
The other marine made the mistake of moving in to kick Kimber to the ground again instead of just shooting him, and paid for it as a burning grip clamped around his ankle and pulled him down. He dropped his rifle, screaming as the heat seared him. Kimber let go, disengaging the omni tool, and knocked the last marine out cold with an ordinary punch.
He stood up, looking around at the carnage he wrought. His hands were trembling, whether from pain or fear he did not know. Medi-gel was applied to his shoulder, stemming off the bleeding, disinfecting and sealing the wound. It was truly a miracle substance, but the Capua's doctor would still need to have a look. Kimber began to jog the last few hallways towards the hangar, doing his best to plant one foot in front of the other as the sounds of reinforcements threatened to get closer from all sides.
Chief Tyrol finished preparing the Raptor that had been requested earlier right on time. Admiral Adama had just walked onto the deck with a marine escort. Looking closer, Galen noticed a white clad figure, clearly female, walking behind the Old Man. He swore as he realised Adama was being led at gunpoint, the menacing woman in the peculiar armor pointing a stolen assault rifle at him. He figured she was from the strange ship.
"Is the Raptor ready Chief?"
"Yes sir… May I ask what's going on?" he planted his hands on his sides, looking towards the woman.
Adama was about to reply when the woman signalled for silence.
"Shh! Do you hear that?" she whispered, suddenly very alert.
Tyrol didn't like her shift in posture one bit. Whereas before she seemed relatively relaxed and comfortable marching Adama down the hangar, now she resembled a very dangerous feline predator, awaiting the moment to pounce. He strained his ears, trying to make out whatever it was she heard. It was difficult with the hum of machinery about the place, but he could've sworn he heard distant gunfire and screams. The marines tried to hide how anxious they felt, but it didn't seem to be working. One of them, the squad leader, was clutching his earpiece.
Adama kept walking until he was inside the Raptor, sitting down in the pilot's chair and going through the checklist. Usually protocol would have a second crewmember acting as ECO onboard the craft, but Bill doubted the woman knew how, and he wasn't about to place another person in a hostage situation.
"Come on, what's the hold up? You said you wanted passage off the ship; this is it!"
"Just a moment longer Admiral, I need to be sure of something."
That "something" came barging through one of the entrances two minutes later, just as Adama's patience was reaching its limit. At first glance it was one of Tyrol's deck gang, dirty and splattered with blood. But then the Admiral understood it was somebody else. The face of the new arrival seemed to light up as he saw the woman standing beside the Raptor, moving quickly towards her.
Adama looked to his marines and paled. They were thumbing off the safeties on their weapons, planning to gun down the second escapee in the middle of the deck. Undoubtedly the woman sensed this too, and he saw her slipping her sword out of its sheath with one hand, planning to strike at the marines standing closest to her. The overzealous marines would end up turning the entire place into a giant bloodbath primarily of their own donation as most of them had forgotten about her in their midst.
"STOP! STAND DOWN!" Adama bellowed as he made his way towards the door.
The marines faltered, so he continued "Just what do you think you're doing sergeant?! Tell your men to lower their weapons!"
They complied, the woman quickly grabbing her friend and ushering him into the Raptor with Adama.
Another large group of marines charged into the hangar, assault rifles raised high. They stopped as they saw their target entering the Raptor.
"Sir! No! What are you doing?" the lead marine panted, "That frakker killed a bunch of our guys, put others in critical condition; he tore them apart! We were trying to catch him, use as a bargaining chip to get you out!"
"Who gave you that order?"
"W-what?"
"Who gave you that order?"Adama repeated himself angrily.
"Sir, we were just-"
"Your reckless pursuit of this man was extremely foolish! Instead of planning a proper re-capture operation, you rush ahead without consideration, backup plans and abandon your posts… and for what? Did I order you to extract me?!"
"N-no but we assumed-"
"Then you assumed wrong sergeant! Go and tend to your men, we're leaving."
He closed the hatch and began checking the instruments again as the Raptor was moved for take-off. The two passengers in the rear sat in silence as the craft finally became space-borne.
Author's Note: Well there you have it folks, the two captives have finally escaped the unfamiliar confines of the Galactica. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. As usual, please leave a comment or review, and thanks to those who did so last time!
I don't own ME or BSG.