Chapter Five
Revelations
One moment the Galactica and the entire defense force were
bearing down on the Cylon mothership and the next, sensors
indicated that the same ship was in two places at once. Their
target had moved so quickly that it had left an 'sensor echo'
of where it once was, to the absolute mortification of the
Colonials.
They had also been shocked by the attempted communications from
the strange ship. The occupants were human! Or, according to
the scans, so close to human as to make little difference.
They couldn't be absolutely sure because of the deflections
of the scans by the ships screens. Comm frequencies with the
saucer ship had been identified but communication was impossible
at this point because their language was so 'alien' that
translator programs had been so far unable to establish a
pattern as of yet. Evidently there was also another of the
unknown human- originating from Earth or the Eastern Allegiance,
at this point they couldn't be sure- ships in the area and
that female commander was screaming, or more likely cursing,
at the occupants of the Cylon Basestar through their vid link.
The fast and dirty consensus was that this was very likely a
matriarchal-based society they were dealing with. The Colonial
officers were equally impressed by how well the little alien
ship had defended itself against the Cylon H-Ts and raiders.
But it now seemed as though its luck had just run out. The
ship was caught in some type of attractor ray, which was
pulling it towards the massive hanger bays of the Cylon
Basestar.
Now they were faced with a difficult choice.
They could abandon the Pegasus and try to help the saucer
ship, which may or may not originate from a human based
society-exactly the point of their entire journey-or try to
defend the fleet against a now vastly superior foe. If they
attempted to save the small ship, it would show an example of
friendship, even kinship with these new people, even if they
lost this battle. Because of the radical technology, it
was more likely that this could be an Earther ship rather
than Eastern Alliance and if that were true chances are they
could help. If they were Eastern Alliance then they might
still help. Maybe the civilians would still be protected if
for no other reason than the fact that they now had a common
enemy. If they however chose to protect their own fleet,
allowing the sacrifice of the human starship in the process,
then that would send an equally devastating message to these
new people. In the end, there was no choice at all. The
long-term goals were propriety.
The civilians were the society.
With the immediate threat to the Pegasus over, all Galactica
shuttles were sent to begin evacuation of survivors on the
Pegasus. Apollo ordered all attack ships on an intercept
heading, at light speed, to aid the saucer ship. It would
take seven centons to reach it before the enemy would be
engaged. Not enough time to save the little spacecraft but
enough to make an honorable showing.
"This isn't right," Boxey said through clinched teeth even
as he accelerated to light speed. "We should be helping the
Pegasus."
"No," his commanding officer said. "We help them,
they'll help us...at least that's the plan."
Starbuck was next to him flying his own Viper. Nowadays,
the Military wouldn't allow him anywhere near a viper
however, if they survived then he would be the liaison to
this new group of people. Besides he had no intention of
leaving these over-zealous kids on their own in such a
critical situation like this. He remembered his youthful
exploits all too well for that to happen. "Remember attack
as a group," he said over the comm. "Their speed and firepower
are greater than ours but we can still turn faster and we
have our imagination, so be careful."
The response was "Oh great," from at least half the crews.
"Well, this way the Cylons can have moving targets to shoot
holes into," Joliet said, apparently unaware that the comm
system was still on. Or was she?
These kids had absolutely no discipline or respect for
commanding officers, he thought, then laughed to himself. He
dared not think of what was happening on his sister Battlestar.
***
Spectre of the Poison Mist was less than pleased with the
results of his current mission. The Federation ship had
managed to repel and destroy their Cylon attackers. The
first and only warriors to board the vessel actually
completed part of their mission before it the first one was
rudely terminated by multiple phaser hits. The second
survivor was eliminated by some strange rock creature, which
attacked and 'ate' it. Neutron disruptors were useless,
the silicon-based life forms dissolving hardened combat
chassis like humans breathed air. That was an unexpected
and very unwelcome surprise.
Now Spectre had intervened directly, attempting to tractor
the Federation vessel into the hanger bay after beating it
into submission. But apparently it wasn't submissive enough,
as the starship fired all its remaining quantum and photon
torpedoes directly into the docking bay, damaging both ships
in the process. The human ship's shields, partially
re-activated, were just strong enough to repel transporter
beams-ins. Its warp engines were off line but their weapons
were evidently still hot. Even with its enhanced armor
plating and internal force shields, the docking bay was
destroyed along with an additional fifth of the Basestar.
The cybernetically enhanced Cylon warship was in pain,
demanding that the human ship be destroyed as penance for
the suffering it had just experienced causing Spectre to
divert precious time and resources in order to calm the
Basestar down before it chose to do something rash. The
human vessel wasn't moving now as it had succeeded in damaging
the tractor beam array. Auto repairs would rectify that
quickly, but in other area the internal systems sustained
massive damage and would take time to for the ship to complete
its recovery. In addition, there was another more powerful
Federation ship coming in, loaded for bare. This ship
wouldn't be much of a problem. The Galactica strike fleet
was also advancing but this wouldn't be a problem either.
In fact none of this should be problematical it believed, but
one had to be careful of humans, they always came up with
surprises.
The Excelsior-class vessel decelerated violently, causing
a large portion of surrounding space to glow brightly. Pat
hailed the Basestar and practically screamed at the image
that appeared on the viewscreen. "This is Captain Patricia
Duvalier of the Federation Starship Khe Sahn. You will
cease your attack now or I will make you stop. This is your
first and last warning." She glared at Spectre, arms folded,
left foot viciously patting the floor.
"Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation starship Khe
Sahn," the mechanical being began gaily. "Your people have
a penchant for names, Captain Patricia Duvalier of the
Federation starship Khe Sahn. We too have an understanding
of the importance of names. I am called Lord Specter of the
Poison Mist, member of the great Cylon Imperial allegiance."
"Stop. Your. Attack. Now."
Spectre moved closer to the screen. It's constantly moving
optical sensors ceased. It own eyes were locked squarely
on the Captain's eyes, intent on staring her down. "Why
should we, human?" it asked. "Your little, lonely ship won't
stop me. The Colonial fleet won't stop me. Your so-called
Federation of Planets won't stop us." Its eyes began moving
once more. "We will destroy you and the Colonial fleet,"
Spectre growled. "We will then remove every vestige of man
from this universe. For those not of the Cylon Empire,
submission to us must be absolute. Do you submit?" Its
eyes began scanning mode again.
"They've locked onto us with their disruptors," Commander
Thompson whispered. "They're preparing to fire."
Pat smiled grimly. Now she moved closer to the screen.
"Spectre of the Poison Mist, what makes you think that my
lonely little ship is all alone?" she asked sweetly.
The instant she stopped speaking six Klingon warships
ranging from bird-of prey class to Vor'cha-class starships
de-cloaked. Together, the alpha quadrant combine fired on
the Cylon Basestar. Seconds later the Colonials arrived and
added their firepower to the mix. The Cylon starship screamed
its rage and resentment as it became one with its crew. The
Commonality went on the defensive as multiple phaser, laser,
disruptor, photon, quantum and solonite-class missiles tore
into its shielding and armor plating. Already suffering
from damage from the Okada's barrage, it was unable to
regenerate quickly enough to prevent additional damage from
the pounding. The explosion of the Okada's ejected warp core
directly onto its shields was the final straw. It gave way,
beginning to retreat back towards the neutral zone with only
two of its four warp engines on line.
Two H-Ts, now defending the retreating mothership,
attacked a bird-of prey severely damaging it before the
combined firepower of four Adders blew the first one out of
space. Another Bird-of Prey destroyed the second H-T
before being surrounded by several raiders. Quickly cloaking,
it evaded its attackers and joined the fight against the
Basestar.
The Colonials in loose formation concentrated on the smaller
Cylon warships. Starbuck reveled in the sight, sounds and
terror of returning to personal combat after so many
yahrens. In the massive flashes that reminded him of stars
being born and dying, he looked at his formation, which
rapidly closed in on the sleek Cylon raiders desperately
defending their mother ship. Screaming in fury, he jammed
his thumb on his Vipers' firing button, dimly aware that
his entire fleet had done so already. The Raiders and H-Ts
deflectors shields flared brightly and disappeared under the
withering fire. Nine Raiders incinerated under the assault.
Retaliating blow for blow against their blood enemies,
several enemy ships, with their superior targeting and
weaponry returned fire with a vengeance, disruptors,
vaporizing an Adder, two Cobras and two Vipers. Against
such power, Colonial shields and armor was rendered as useless
as a sheet of paper defending against a cutting laser torch.
A stunned Starbuck was about to call a general retreat when
The Galactica exited light speed almost on top of them. Heavy
weapons from the battleship tore into Cylon formations.
That tipped the balance. The Khe Sahn and the Klingon heavy
cruisers, along with the Colonial fleet attacked and
obliterated the remaining defenders.
The Cylon ship taking the advantage of the lull made a
run towards zone barely achieving warp two. Spectre and the
ship were banking on that imaginary line to save it from
destruction.
Three Klingon ships immediately cloaked as if to follow, so
that the Basestar would be unsure it were to be attacked again
if it ceased its retreat. The massive Battlestar along with
most of the remaining fleet, pulled away slowly, heading back
towards the Pegasus. Commander Starbuck and Captain Boxey
and Lieutenant Joliet remained closed to the Okada, comms
open, trying to talk to this new, larger version of the first
Earther ship.
The Khe Sahn secured from battle stations began transporting
medical and engineering personnel over to the Okada.
Batteries were now the only things supplying power to the
wounded ship. Her first officer had survived the attacks,
suffering from several broken bones and a slight concussion.
Captain Ikata, along with one hundred and nineteen members of
her crew, hadn't.
"Captain, it's a mess over here," The Khe Sahn's chief
medical officer said over his comm link. "We may to evacuate
the ship until we get life support stabilized".
Her engineering officer broke in. "Captain, we'll be able to
restore full life support in about twenty minutes. Most of the
systems are in really bad shape but we'll se what we can do.
We'll start re-creating the warp core after that, if we have
the time."
"Do what you need to do," Duvalier responded. The Okada had
come within a hair's breath of being captured by an unknown
enemy, its crew prisoners of some kind of robotic race
with obviously had no regard for human life or otherwise.
Much like the Cardassians had been and probably still are,
she thought bitterly. Roberta had been a friend, something
she didn't come by easily. Now there was one less and that
loss hurt.
Turning to lieutenant Thompson, "have we improved the
Translation programs enough to talk to these people with
some competence yet?" she asked. Thompson and Patterson had
both been working on overcoming the language barrier and now
he was smiling to himself as he answered.
"Yes Captain. Translations over seventy-five completed.
We can begin talks."
"Good. Open a channel."
"Captain, They're contacting us. It's one the smaller
fighters still in the immediate area."
A human male she judged to be in his fifties appeared on the
screen. He was a handsome male she thought, but years of
stress and those scars had aged him physically far more than
he should have been.
"Please identify yourself," the man said. "I am... Starbuck
of the battle...Galactica. We come in peace... help
requested...danger from.... Empire. All humans...hunted down
and killed. We are looking for a planet called Earth....
Kobol...colony. Please respond."
Thompson looked apologetic. "That's as good as we can get
For the time being. I'm working on it."
She nodded her head. "This is Captain Patricia Duvalier of
the Starship Khe Sahn. Our translators are having a difficult
time but we are making progress. Please continue talking
as our computers are compiling a language database."
The man called Starbuck seemed to understand and began to
rattle what seemed like his entire life story. True to
Thompson's word, the more this man talked the better the
translator systems interpreted his speech into coherent
words. Duvalier was astounded as Starbuck told the history
of the twelve colony worlds inhabited by humans deep, deep
in the Beta quadrant for thousands of, the actual word
translated as, years. And that mankind actually originated
from somewhere, some planet called Kobol.
She remembered from the history data streams, that decades
Ago, a Captain Hikaro Sulu had begun mapping the first edges
of the Beta quadrant, just as the Federation had begun their
first overtures of peace with the Klingon Empire. Then the
Cardassians started acting up, and one thing after another
occurred and essentially exploration of that part of the
galaxy was put on hold.
She wouldn't have believed this man if she hadn't seen the
radical directions his technology had developed and those
robotic entities first hand. At first she though that they
might be some fantastic variation of Borg but that thought
disappeared almost immediately as soon as the thing had
started speaking. In addition, none of the ships quite
conformed to anything in the Federation Database. Most of
those fleet ships wouldn't have even been certified for deep
space travel by any space dock she knew. However, if this
were true, then these people were more of an offshoot of
humanity than anything they've ever encountered so far in
their exploration of the galaxy, outside the Alpha quadrant.
The question was, was it true?
***
"De-cloak!"
The Klingon battle cruiser T'Hatru de-cloaked ten kilometers
off port of the Pegasus. The entire crew (especially Captain
Kagth) stood gaping at the primitive but undoubtedly impressive
Human-made warship. It reminded them of the ships made in
the Old Times, weapons everywhere, decades of battle scars
covering the ship like a badge. A ship of war. Two long-
lived ships of honor protecting their own from all comers.
Twin motherships protecting their loved ones. "Humans made
that?" There was admiration in that voice. Who it was
that said the words didn't matter, because it
was true.
Weapons Officer Klettoh had almost lost track of the number
of weapons Onboard even as he grunted his approval. These
humans understood the beauty of war. There was no dishonor
here in losing to a superior enemy. Only the regret of the
losing it all, to the destruction of their people.
"Captain, there are many there who have received the final
honor. Their ship is losing life support. They have no
transporter capabilities. Their fuel source is leaking and
is toxic to organic life forms. Terminal toxicity levels
will be reached in twelve standard minutes."
"This is a rescue mission," the Captain growled. "Remember
that all humans fear death. DO NOT give them final honor!
Let them live! They may fear us but ignore it! They are
Humans after all."
"We have locked on to their bridge."
Kagth stood up. "Begin transports of survivors to the other
warship. Transport me to the bridge now!"
The Captain and three guards materialized on the bridge of the
Battlestar Pegasus. The bridge was a shambles as was expected
and the usual number of bodies were there in their various
poses of grimaced death. There was a woman survivor holding
a dark skinned male human's head, probably some comforting
ritual. Several other survivors were covered in bridge
supports and the transporters would not work properly without
crushing the survivors. Disruptors set in cutting mode would
be inefficient, most likely causing more damage in the long
run.
One Klingon warrior helped a tiny young woman to her feet.
She looked at him and gave him a smile that made his entire
body grow a half-meter. There was surprise but no fear in
her eyes.
I could admire these humans, he thought in wonder.
On board the Galactica, personnel were almost in a panic as
the injured from the Pegasus began appearing in dinning halls
and medical stations all over the ship. The appearance of the
vicious looking alien hunting ship turning off its camouflage
net in front of them was shocking enough. And the visage of
that fierce, wild-haired humanoid growling at them while trying
to smile! That old human adage 'be careful what you asked for'
had slapped them all in the face this time.
At the Galactica's helm, Apollo was unnerved by the ease in
Which these Federation people and the other humanoids used
transporters seemingly without a care in the world. The Klingon
captain had materialized on the Galactica with two slightly
wounded engineering officers from the Pegasus. Linguistic
translators were improving rapidly and the Alphan people
insisted that the body wasn't disintegrated, merely broken
down at a quantum level and reconstructed. It was still
insane, even though its practicality was beyond dispute.
The possibilities for abuse of this technology was disturbing,
to say the least.
They were all looking at the live video feed coming from the
Pegasus' bridge as Klingon, Federation and Colonial crews were
attempting to clear the toxins from the damaged warship. He
was uncomfortable yet grateful accepting help from these
strangers. But...
But that was a moot point when compared to the living rocks
running back and forth dissolving re-enforced metal beams and
flooring on the Pegasus sampling bits here and there, as though
they were some new kind of tasty sweets.
For a moment, the Colonials believe that these fantastic
Creatures may have been some robot or even bizarre genetic
constructs of some kind. Not an independent, sentient life
forms within this fantastic Federation.
Then one of them spoke, utilizing one of those micro-sized
translators/communicator devices, it almost scared Apollo out
of his skin. "This metal tastes so exotic," it commented,
sounding like a connoisseur, which it probably was. It
evidently also understood structure and design as well
because it got to the trapped people without collapsing
anything around it. As dangerous as the molecular acid the
Horta produced was, its control was equally impressive.
Several people flinched as they saw the Horta moved towards
them, but the creatures ignored them opting instead to patch
hairline fractures in bulkheads, sealing in precious air.
This area of space had so much life! And the variations were
enough to keep zoologists and the biological science people
swamped with work for generations. It was all kind of
overwhelming.
"That's a nice...thing you have there," Apollo said to the
Klingon humanoid, standing next to him.
"They're very useful, apparently."
"Yes," the Klingon growled, admiring the Galactica's bridge.
"They are gentile beasts but they are great warriors as well.
The Hortas were going to a conference for silicon life forms.
Even I wish to be at that meeting," he snarled pleasantly.
"What do rocks talk about?" he asked, looking at Apollo as
though he expected a coherent answer.
"Sirs," the Scanner tech said to Apollo and the President,
her voiced raised slightly. "The Federation fleet is arriving."
"Put it on the screen," Apollo said. He felt excited, even
with the potential loss of the Pegasus he was excited. Next
to him his father was glued to the screen, wide eyed.
A total of twenty-two ships were transiting what they called
warp space. Space for several hundred kilometers glowed as
light and energy was released from those powerful ships
decelerating into normal space. Superficially, all of them
looked similar to one another. But as he and his people
looked closer they could see apparent differences. Several
were like the Okada and there were two even smaller than
that. Two were identical to the Khe Sahn, but the majority
looked like large saucers with engines and a couple of
pieces attached as an afterthought. Then there were two
larger ships, Galaxy-class the Klingon called them, which
looked more like passenger liners than warships. But in the
lead was the Sovereign-class Enterprise-E, largest and
unmistakably the most dangerous looking ship in this fleet.
It was designed to present as little profile as possible and
boasted a weapons systems that practically screamed the
message 'don't screw with me'.
The Klingon captain caught Apollo gawking at the specs being
identified by his computer systems and grunted. "Independently
targeted quantum torpedo banks, muitphasic shields, ablative
armor, Ha! And they call that a 'Ship of Peace.' Humans here
know how to build, too."
The ships formed a protective pattern that circled the entire
fleet to about one point five light years distant, while the
Enterprise came to a relative stop two kilometers from the
port side of the Galactica. The Colonials-and Klingons also-
galked at the powerful yet graceful ship easing closer as
though to dock and stopping a mere quarter metric like it was
the most natural thing in the world.
***
In the medical bay on the Khe Sahn, Boomer wasn't doing at
all well. Several of his vertebrae had been crushed and the
internal damage to his spleen, liver, kidney, and lower
intestines were extensive. Sheba was next to him, holding
his hand, oblivious to her own injuries. The Khe Sahn's
chief medical officer and the Galactica's chief medic
Cassiopeia were frantically trying to stabilize him.
He should have been dead but Federation medicine was
more advanced than Colonial. Even so...
"How is he? Is he going to make it?" The pain and guilt in
her face was obvious. She knew that it wasn't her fault but
she felt responsible for him, the damage to her ship and the
losses to her crew.
The doctor shook his head slightly, gently touched her cheek
and moved on. She needed space and even Cassiopeia stayed
some distance away. "Boomer, don't die on me! Not when we're
so close to making it!" He was conscious even if not completely
aware. "Did we fight them off? Did we win?"
She could barely hear him. He was leaving her.
"We found the thirteenth colony, Boomer. They came to help
us," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes so that she
couldn't see. "Their ships are so beautiful and powerful,
better than our old stuff any day."
He understood her and smiled. "The kids," he wheezed softly.
He was no longer breathing, merely coughing now looking up
at something no one else on this side could possibly see.
The light faded from his eyes and he was gone.
First Deitra and now Boomer, she thought sadly, moving away
from the bed and on to her father's station. Now there's
only little Boomer and Therese. What am I going to tell them?
"I'm sorry, Commander," the doctor said softly as he closed
Boomer's eyes. The man was very compassionate. She could
see it in his eyes. "I believe however that your father is
going to pull through. The operations we can perform will
very likely cause a complete recovery. Your blood elements
are slightly different from ours due most likely to genetic
variation and drift. We'll need to synthesize blood for him.
It'll take him some time to bounce back because of age and
injury but he should be okay."
Sheba began crying, as the doctor smiled and held her gently.
Cassiopeia quietly moved away, carefully wiping away her own
tears and she turned her attention towards her other patients.
But first...
"Hey, this is Cassie," she said quietly into her communications
link she'd brought over. "I am sad to inform the members of
the Galactica, Pegasus and Fleet Comm, that Colonel Boomer
has died of internal injuries..."
Next: Just one big happy Starfleet
