Ongoing thanks to Zimu Yang for beta-reading
Red In Tooth And Claw
Chapter 52: Countdown To Armageddon
"It's an elegant, if somewhat simple design." Commander de Carabas expertly looked over the plans for the multi-warhead missile, "I can see at least a dozen places where they could improve upon it."
"Improve how?" Ship-Master 'Baranos asked.
"Well, if we were to strip out say a third of the warheads each missile carried, we could add some penetration aids to help against active point-defences." The engineer contemplated the idea, "Dazzlers, strobes, jammers, maybe some plasma-grenades to act as mini Whiz-Bangs, and a Dragons Tooth or two."
"Excuse me?" Apollo raised an eyebrow, "Even with your accent toned down, I hardly understood a word of that."
"Dazzlers, strobes and jammers are designed to mess with the electronic and visual sensors, filling them with static. Whiz-Bangs are, as you know, EMP weapons to disable any delicate electronics within a given radius." de Carabas smiled, "Good for taking out counter-missiles. Dragons Teeth create false returns on any known sensor system, confusing them so they have to shoot at targets that aren't there."
"How soon do you think you can start building new ones?" The Colonial asked.
"Well, the Argo has a couple of large machine-shops we could re-task to fabricate the outer shells, and the Turing can produce the guidance chips in large numbers." The yard-dog rubbed his chin, his fingers rasping against two days worth of stubble, "The Cylons can produce as many of the smaller missiles as we need. So, taking into account time needed for the basic set up and getting the needed parts together, and I think we might have a couple of test models ready in two, maybe three days. I'm not promising they'll be perfect, but it'll be something we can take to the Admirals; they'll have to sign off on full scale production."
"Begin your preparations." 'Baranos nodded his head, "I will talk to Admiral Grant."
"Our little friend should have the portal open soon." Admiral Grant sat in her command chair, looking at the screen that folded out from the arm, "I'll send the Shadow Of The Night through first to make sure we have a secure connection to Kobol; we're dealing with a transit node, not a full portal like Earth or Kobol. But if everything goes according to plan, and God knows we're due a break any time now, it'll be just a short hop to where Admiral Chandra is waiting with his Task Force and enough supplies to fight a small interstellar war."
"And then?" Adama asked a little gruffly.
"That's up to you, but based on the information Admiral Wolfe brought with him, it sounds like the Alliance will be setting up a permanent Fleet Station there." Grant shrugged, "You could settle there if that's what you want; it is your ancestral home, after all."
"That's something the Quorum would have to vote on." Adama shook her head, "But, at least it'll give us a chance to land somewhere relatively safe."
"All I know is that Admiral Chandra, the UNSC's highest decorated fleet commander, is going to lead a fleet to the Cyrannus system and take down any Cylons still there..." Grant shrugged, "Feel free to send a ship along to pick up anything you left behind, but we'll not be staying; if your reports are correct, then the radiation's too high for long-term exposure, even with our medical knowledge."
"We can send the Pegesus: if the upgrades live up to their promises, then she should have a few new surprises in store for the Cylon's." Adama nodded in agreement, "The Galactica still needs a major refit before she's ready to see combat again..."
"I'm sorry to interrupt you, Admirals." Silent Contemplation cut in over the link, "But I believe that we are ready."
"I think I've got it." Shaw turned her seat around, "I've gone over all the information we have about where we think they're holding Cortana." She typed a quick command into the navigational computer, and a set of coordinates came up on the main screen, "It's little more than an informed guess, but I think that this is where we need to go."
"Well, it's better than what I've got." Mendez shrugged philosophically, "I say we go for it."
"I agree." The Master Chief nodded.
"Okay." Halsey sat down in the pilot's seat, "We'll jump in a little further out, and work our way in under maximum stealth; hopefully they won't spot us."
"Well, it's free jumps until we get there." Shaw transferred the jump sequence to the helm, "No time like the present."
"Frak me, that's a lotta ships." Tigh looked out of the observation bay window, jaw gaping.
The planet Kobol hung in the sky, orbited by a staggering one hundred warships and thirty-five support ships, including the imposing bulk of the mobile battle-station Unending Vigilance. Countless fighters, drop-ships and shuttles darted between their larger brethren, while on the dark side of the planet, artificial lights blazed for the first time in tens of thousands of years. Despite this, most eyes were fixed on the fleet of warships in high orbit, especially the six massive Thermopylae class Battleships that dwarfed even the Assault-Carriers.
"That's the flag-ship." One of the UNSC officers pointed at the ship in the middle of the formation, "That's the UNSC Preston J. Cole herself; pride of the fleet."
"And she's not alone: the Thunder Child, the Lord Terrance Hood," Someone else nodded, "the Remember The Alamo, the Ramilies and the Philip Of Macedonia."
"I served on the Viper, my first year out of the academy." A third voice added, pointing at one of the numerous frigates, then towards one of the sleek Battlecruisers, "And I think my brother's still on the Concordia."
"HighCom must be serious about setting up a base here if they've diverted all these ships and materials." Commander McGregor stood leaning against the bulkhead, "I've seen some big ops; I was flying off the Yorktown when we kicked the Kig-yar out of 23 Librae, but I've never seen a fleet that big outside of a major system."
"It's really that big?" Tigh asked.
"Put it this way; Tyne, our biggest ship-building centre, has three battle squadrons in its defence fleet. Home Fleet, covering Earth, Mars, Titan and the rest of the Sol system, has six battle squadrons." McGregor nodded towards the ships outside window, "They've got two full Battle Squadrons out there, and the biggest military expedition I've ever hear of had only one."
"You know, I think I preferred it when you were a little more talkative." Caprica closed her eyes and stretched out, a serene smile on her face, "Even when you were cursing me with your every breath, at least I knew you cared." Rolling over onto her side, she threw an arm and a leg over the comatose body that lay next to her on the hard metal examination table, held in place by thick metal reinforced straps, "I don't enjoy hurting you, taking your mind apart piece by piece like this, but you insist on defying me." She reached up and brushed a few stray hairs away from the pale, drawn face next to her own, "And the last thing I want to do is hurt you." She ran her hand down the side of the face, "This goes beyond the Activation Index; you are the centre of the wheel, the point at which all possibilities intersect. You represent a true amalgamation of humanity and Cylon, flesh and metal. But you have to decide where your true loyalties lie." She pulled herself closer to the other woman, feeling the warmth of their bodies becoming one, "Chose soon, because I can't wait forever."
Neither Adama nor Roslin could believe the sheer size and scale of the UNSC Preston J. Cole: it was bigger than any ship they'd ever seen up close, save the Resurrection Hub. The ship's main-gun was a spinally mounted Mark-V 'Super' magnetic accelerator cannon capable of propelling a 3,000-ton projectile to 0.4c, delivering enough kinetic force to vaporise most star-ships with a single shot. Adama felt a strange mix of awe and fear, the mental image of what just one of the weapons could do if turned on an inhabited planet. He'd never even conceived of a weapon with such destructive capacity, and yet here he was looking at one. The gaping maw of the MAC looked big enough to swallow a small ship, and in many ways it was.
"Yeah, they're big buggers all right." Admiral Wolfe smiled, realising just what was on the other man's mind, "Not that they let us play with them too often plus each round cost more than I make in a year, if you don't hit your intended target, they keep going until they do hit something, somewhere down the line. And when you're talking about something that hits with the force of a 50-gigaton nuke... well, let's just say that you'd better be sure of just what you're aiming at, and what's behind it when you press that big red button."
"You'll have to forgive Bradley; like most men he has an affinity for really big guns." Admiral Grant chuckled, "But he's not joking; I've been in uniform over forty years, and I've only ever seen a Mark V fired twice, and both of them were on orbital stations defending a planet from an attack by the Jiralhanae. I saw an Assault Carrier, identical to the Renewed Purpose, cored stem-to-stern by a single shot, clean through her shields like they weren't even there."
There was a dull thud as the shuttle docked with the battleship, then a hiss as the pressure equalised. Grant slipped her cap onto her head, as Wolfe likewise made sure his dress uniform was immaculate. Adama took a moment to compare their uniforms; Wolfe's had the three stars that he had be told denoted a Vice-Admiral, while Grant's had the four stars of a full Admiral. His own uniform only had a single star, but given the different rank structure, he was approximately the same rank as Wolfe.
"Tradition dictates that we go through in reverse order of rank." Grant advised as the airlock hissed open, and a crewman with a boatswain's pipe blew a short burst.
"Commander, First Cruiser Squadron, Arriving!" A voice called as Wolfe ducked down and stepped through the hatch, saluting the shore party.
Adama went to go next, but Grant stopped him with a cheerful smile on her face as a slightly longer tune was played.
"Commander, 4th Fleet, Arriving!" The voice announced, and Grant stepped through.
"Admiral of The Fleet, Twelve Colonies of Kobol, Arriving!" The voice called out even louder as even more complicated tune was played, "All hands, ATTENTION ON DECK!"
There was a loud stamping sound, accompanied by the unmistakable click of weapons being drought from rest to full parade attention as the Colonial Anthem was played over the ships PA system. More shocked than anything, Adama managed to step through the hatch without tripping over his own feet, and stood next to Grant and Wolfe before a full Marine honour guard and a double line of uniformed officers and crew.
"It was Admiral Chandra's idea: he wanted to make it clear that, as far as he's concerned, the two of you have the same rank." Grant explained with an impish grin that looked entirely out of place in such austere surrounding, "The orders he sent included a request to forward any information that might help, so I had burst transmitted a few files the moment we arrived."
A tall man with five stars on his collar stepped forward.
"Admiral Adama, I'd like to introduce Fleet Admiral Jay Chandra, senior flag-officer of Task Force H." Grant saluted her superior, "Admiral, it is my honour and duty to introduce Admiral William Adama, commanding officer of the Battlestar Galactica, and senior officer, Navy of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."
"Admiral Adama, welcome aboard the Preston J. Cole." Chandra offered his hand, "It is not often that we are privileged to play host to someone of you rank and standing."
"The honour is mine, sir." Adama took the offered hand and shook it, "I can't thank you enough for what you've already done for my people already."
"To quote one of my world]s most famous politicians, this is nearly the end of the beginning." Chandra gestured towards a nearby hatch, "Please, follow me to the briefing room, and I'll fill you in on just what we have planned."
The Bad Moon Rising slipped through space, little more than a faint shadow over the star-scape. But even so far out, they were able to pick up the amassed Cylon fleet on their powerful passive sensors due to its sheer size and the amount of electromagnetic energy it was putting out. Yet despite this, the stealth ship was able to sneak past their outer defences without leaving the slightest hint that it had even been there, its repaired systems making it about as visible as a pane of glass.
"There's another contact, half-hidden behind the Cylon fleet." Shaw looked at her screen and her eyes went wide, "Oh frak me, that's a big son of a bitch!"
"How big?" The Master Chief asked without looking round.
"Remember those images you showed me of High Charity?" Shaw's face was ashen, "Bigger."
"Please tell me I'm wrong," Halsey pointed out the view-port, "but isn't that a Halo?"
To Be Continued...
