Strike Commander Starbuck's shuttle was scheduled to rendezvous with the Battlestar Pegasus in another two centares. He's been ecstatic that the ship had left before Commander Cain had set foot on the Galactica. To most of the Colonials, the man was close to a god but to him, Cain was always that man who stood between himself and Cassie. On the other hand, he knew in his heart that that was simply another excuse. And he was getting tired of those excuses.
This was especially true now, with her on his mind.
He told Apollo about his trip to New Halana onboard the Khe Sahn. Basically it was a milk run, after the battle between the Star base and the Hellion class Basestar. The battle had been won but he was emotionally exhausted. President Adama had given him permission to leave in order to sort out his feelings about a love lost and he came to the conclusion that that was exactly what it was. There were so many conflicting emotions that he didn't actually know where to begin. Never in his imagination did he expect what happened to him to occur in such a short time. When he got back, the first thing he did was to talk to his best friend. He remembered telling Apollo how smooth the starship was in FTL.
"Even at that speed, you barely hear the engines," he had told Apollo so excitedly that even he had to admit that he sounded like a kid.
He and Commander David Thompson, the Khe Sahn's XO, had met one of the New Halana diplomats, that David fell heads over heels in love with. They both went to the planet to visit the woman's family several times more before they left to come back some three days later.
Being with that family was fantastic and watching David drool over the Jewenne was frankly hysterical, but Starbuck had to admit that she was beautiful. But her sister!
He had never seen anyone quite like her. Her walk, her voice, her dark skin, her dark brown hair, her-everything, even those slightly different ears were beautiful. What was it about the ears in this section of space anyway? In any case, Niddel was magnificent, the type of woman who was a woman when she was about fifteen yahrens old. He was in love almost as soon as he heard her voice. It was as though he was drawn to her. And Starbuck realized that this wasn't simple lust, either. She had been as drawn to him as he to her. There were only two small problems: the first was that she was totally, miserably racked with guilt resulting from the fact that her husband had died a few years ago and she was happy about it because-and this was the second problem-she never wanted to leave the planet in first place and her husband was always on the go, taking her with him. She'd taken one look at Starbuck and was as attracted to him and at the same time repelled by everything he represented. At the same time, he seemed a study of contrast that she couldn't ignore. But they talked for hours and incredibly he felt very much bonded with the woman.
Then, on the second day, her sister quietly dropped an antimatter bomb on him.
It seemed that Niddel, her sister had a telepathic split personality, which he found out when her psychic half who called herself Fenna, met with him that night. Again a slightly frightened Starbuck talked with Fenna for hours and when her real self woke up and her psychic self faded away, he was lost to her. Niddel never knew what Fenna had said, but both of them were attracted to him. Never in his imagination did he think something like this could happen to him, two sides of the same woman vying for his affections.
And he had never even touched her.
When he returned from his trip on the Khe Sahn he told Apollo and Sheba about her, they looked at him, smiled at him like he was a little child. When it came to his personal life they had done that for years and he hated it. Apollo was his best friend and somehow Sheba had wormed her way into his confidence as well. Together, those two knew him better than almost anyone else-except Cassie.
"What is wrong with you?" his best friend had asked him. "Cassie wasn't out of your life for a sectar and you're galloping around the galaxy, getting involved with other women and an unstable one at that. Don't you understand what you're doing every time you do this?"
"Do what?" he had snapped back. "There hasn't been anyone else since they Colonies were attacked. Cassie has been the only one and you know it."
"Yes, I do know that," Apollo countered. "But no one else does, Strike Commander Starbuck, and that's the whole point. People perceive that you're a free spirited, devil-may-care warrior who put his life on the line countless times and has a girl on every ship in the fleet."
"But that's not true!"
"But, you never really discouraged the rumors, either," Sheba had added. "How do you think that made Cassie feel all these yahrens, especially since you chose not to Seal with her? You always had one excuse or another to avoid being committed to her."
That had struck home in more ways than one because part of it was true, but not in the way they assumed. During the last 'discussion' he had had with her, he presented his best arguments for their coming back together. But in the end, he'd failed. He didn't convince her because he couldn't convince himself. Even that little comment about the Deltans next to Cassie, shattered any unconscious belief that that he held that there was hope for them. He loved her but he wasn't the one for her. That bond he always felt they should have simply wasn't there.
"Starbuck," Apollo continued. "Do you know how many biographies and stories there are about you? Do you have any idea of how closely your life is scanned? Everything you do, everything you think and say is recorded and interpreted a thousand different ways. I've read novella stories about you that you wouldn't believe, involved with people you wouldn't believe," he said. "You're a favorite. Whether you like it or not, your life is under a microscope and as a celebrity, you have to deal with that fact. Plus the fact that she isn't human is going to cause a lot of problems."
"Apollo, Sheba, listen to me," he had countered. "Apollo, you Sealed with Serina because you loved her and there was a bond there even though you barely knew her. Then you met Sheba," he continued, "and married her after she almost killed us. How long did you two wait? Five sectars?"
"True but…"
"There is no 'but'," he countered. "You two Sealed because again, you were in love and the bond between you two was there. Now granted if Cassie and I were part of a contracted Sealing, like the Nomen practice, then that bond I keep talking about wouldn't matter or maybe it would grow in time. But this isn't the case here."
"Look, my personal life is an open book, that's true," Starbuck admitted. "Whether she's human or not doesn't matter to me. All of us are going to have to deal with this new life we've been given. Our people are going to have to get used to a lot of new types of people. But how they feel about it-that's not my problem. But I will choose who I want to be with. No one will chose for me, especially not the Council. I know what they're trying to do. Now, I admit my faults with Cassie," he continued, his voice full of passion. "But she is free to choose now and she's right. I have found the one that I'm interested in complete with all her faults, someone I intend to fight for and I hope I'm worthy," he finished.
He didn't remember when he had exited their apartment. He hadn't remembered when he'd finished wiping his eyes. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten to his room and lain on his bed. He should have ignored the image of Fenna but that was no way he possible could. And he didn't want to. She needed him and he needed her.
"Fenna, or Niddel. Who ever you are. I'm coming back," he said softly while looking at the image he now carried with him. Silently, he swore that he would fight for this one, no matter what. There would be problems. Apollo and Sheba were correct. The fact that she wasn't human would cause a bad stir among the people-the same people who had been cramped in decaying starships fearing the unknown for twenty-two yahrens. It was going to be hard, but not impossible. He never wanted to become the first to Seal with an alien-if she truly wanted him. But he was going to give it a try.
"As the humans here say 'it's the roll of the dice.' It was time to open his people's minds a little.
When Thomas Riker boarded the Battlestar Galactica, sporting a beard mixed a sparkle of gray, he looked so much like his copy-or did his copy look like him?-that no one really knew for sure. Both Sheba and Apollo's sister Athena now Bridge Commander, at first glance assumed that it was William Riker, but upon closer examination they realized that these were truly two separate people. What stood in front of them was another victim of those accursed transporter devices.
The sight that greeted him was stunning. He'd been on numerous starships before but nothing came close to the size of this monster, except maybe some of the space stations he'd seen recently. The bridge contained heavy-duty struts not unlike several bridges standing in Alaska, near his father's home. What was staggering to him was this ship initially had no structural integrity fields supporting its massive bulk. It relied on pure architecture alone to keep it from caving in upon itself.
Brave people, he thought.
The computers systems were a mixture of old and new just like the crewmembers. There were Colonials old guards, the Mariposans, some of which were identical clones and the Ligonians, distant descendents of a people from Earth removed from their native home in Africa and relocated by powers unknown, some two thousand years past. What surprised him though were the two fast moving Hortas roaming the bridge doing surprisingly delicate work on the lateral sensor array.
"I didn't know they could do that," he said to the woman called Athena. He noticed how much she looked like her father, without the beard, of course.
"Yes," she answered. "So were we. But we discovered that their senses could detect the smallest changes in our circuitry, almost to microscopic levels. And their manipulators, those little flagella things," she said pointing to the small whip-like appendages that worked like dozens of manipulators. "Some of them are so small that they act like fingers which they can control very, very well. Not only that but they can detect changes in magnetic and electrical fields. And they're really smart."
"I can see that," he said watch the silicon-based life forms scuttle across the bridge to help finish a wielding project that only it do. On its back was a Federation communication device. By the way the humanoid crewmembers talked and interacted with them, it was clear that the crew onboard love those things. "But why are they here?" Thomas asked.
"They're at war, too," Athena answered. "The Horta's acid is an extreme threat to the Cylons. We also believe that two days ago, they sent a cloaked ship to-"
"A cloaked Basestar? My God."
"The Federation has a tachyon net designed to expose cloaked intrusions in the Federation's core dominion, so the ship was caught. It was traveling directly for the Horta home world. The ship got away and it wasn't confirmed if it was a Basestar or not, but the emissions reeked of Cylon warp signatures. The Hortas recognize the threat."
"The Klingons were also on the receiving end of those cloaks," Commander Sheba said, coming in on the tail end of the conversation. "They're all crazy now. They're about to hit the Cylons with everything they have. I've never seen such a angry bunch of people in my life."
"They can get expressive." A classic understatement, he thought. "What are you going to do?"
"Well, The Galactica stays here. But, I'm leaving for the Pegasus now. My father is coming and so are you. You're rated to fly the Federation Saber-class ships and Adama wants you in charge of one of them. They're the same size as our destroyers and they'll augment us well."
"But I haven't flow in almost a five years," he protested. He was truly stunned by the revelation. "I've done some simulations but-"
"That was the reason why Captain Janeway had you work so hard on the simulations," Sheba said. "My father and President Adama want you to begin working with the rest of our crew to help make a coherent battle group. On the Pegasus we have 'on loan' twelve combat ready runabouts and twelve Sabers. This, added to a full compliment of modified Cobras and Viper II's and five of the Viper III's, and thirty bring the number of ships to three hundred thirty. The fuel tanks were removed so we have a lot more room to play with. The Battlestar support group consists of the Vipers, Cobras, the Sabers and six updated Adder-class destroyers running screen. No more flying alone anymore," she said.
That reminded him of the old Aircraft carriers battle groups of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. "They gave you Federation Starships?" He was thinking hard now. This was not Starfleet policy. There were a lot of things going on here. Something was definitely up.
"The problem is," said Athena. "Most of our pilots are new and green. We need training. We like the Federation but we have no intentions of being dependent on them with this war. They're going to need everything they have and so are we but our battle strategies are not theirs and our weapons systems are not either. We may be becoming a independent nation soon and we need to be able to handle our own affairs."
"It's not that we have any sort of problems with them but this is our war even more so than theirs. We know our enemies even if they changed. But we need to be prepared. We have to rely on ourselves also. Starfleet knows that we all may have to approach this war differently in order to succeed."
Riker caught the hint. Now that was an interesting comment. He let it go for the time being.
"What about Janeway?" he asked instead. "The defenses that she's developing with your people are designed to keep your people safe."
"She's Federation," Sheba said. "She's blood of our blood, as you are. We will fight to the death for her. She's here to defend us and we're here to defend her. But there's more going on here than you know."
"You were picked for a reason," Athena continued. "Will you do it?"
"Yes. If you'll agree to go to dinner with me, Athena." She looked at him and produced a sly smile. "I'm simply getting what I can," he finished innocently.
"You should set you goals slightly higher. You might be surprised."
Six hours later Sheba, Riker, Athena and Commander Cain reached the Pegasus. The sight of the giant yet, sleek Battlestar cause all of them to gape through the window.
They could see a Klingon Bird-of-prey landing in the alpha bay while four Viper IIs swept passed their Adder. In the distance, they could see several more Klingon and at least three Adder destroyers flanking the massive ship as though she was a mother who needed protection.
"She's as beautiful as I remember, " Cain whispered. "They've changed the bridge structure slightly. There's more of a view. I can't wait to get to my ship," he whispered the winced slightly as he'd realized he was just a bit too loud.
"It's my ship, father," her daughter said. "It's my command."
"Of course, of course."
"Father don't fight me on this, help me." Her voice was strained, dangerous-and pleading.
"You're right of course," he responded, pretending to ignore the sudden chill in the air. "I'm here simply to advise. Besides, I need to establish a rapport with those Klingons."
Thomas remained silent throughout the exchange. This was going to be a rough assignment, he thought darkly.
ROMULAN-FEDERATION NEUTRAL ZONE:
For the last day, the Enterprise communications have been picking up hundreds of transmission near the Romulan twin home worlds of Romulus and Remus. It had become clear that the main Cylon taskforce had bypassed several Romulan strongholds for an attack directly on their home worlds. Evidently, they were not interested in conquest, but simple extermination. They hadn't even cared about being flanked. Long distance scanners indicated wave after wave of fighters in savage combat with Romulan forces. The entire battle raged across four light years. Two more Hellion fleets were vectoring in and the Romulans were just about exhausted. And still they hadn't asked for help.
Foolish pride!
"Mr. Data," Commander Troi-Riker asked. "Has Starfleet finished the analysis on the object being constructed by the Cylons in the Katasi system?"
"The final report is in and it confirms our initial suspicions. The Cylon Empire has built a shielded factory complex, approximately one-forth the size of Earth's moon. It is exclusively designed for the production of their warriors and materiel. If they continue to mass-produce, I have estimated that the Cylons will have the capacity to out-produce us in two years, six months and that was without the projected causalities added in. The planet that the factory is presently constructed from had been essentially stripped mined to obtain the materials. It appears that the Cylons choose this method of construction as a means of intimidation because the nebula itself had more than sufficient amounts of materials that could have been used. This was done to send the Federation and everyone else a message. They wanted us to know that they had no concern about the lives they destroyed in the process."
"The circular structure orbiting Katasi Four appears to be some sort of sub-space accelerator. It is very likely that this structure," he continued showing the donut-shaped apparatus on the main screen, "will be used as a subspace conduit connecting the Cylon home world in the Beta quadrant to their home base here. The power requirements must be enormous in order to produce a stable wormhole."
"But Geordie had mentioned a possibility of this being a weapon."
"It is unlikely that it might be an offensive weapon," Data answered. "The front of the device is facing the nebula itself. Any discharge would be dissipated by the energies present within the nebula. However it could be used as a defensive weapon against incursions emanating from the nebula itself."
The Starship's shields kicked in: the red alert sirens blared as the Enterprise-E and the accompanying battle group of almost fifty ships of various configurations found itself surrounded by one hundred twenty Klingon battle cruisers.
"We're being hailed, sir."
Picard was alarmed. Something was about to happen and this war was about to heat up significantly.
"Onscreen."
A large, dark-skinned Klingon appeared on the viewer.
"Captain Picard."
Picard recognized the Commander of the fleet. It was Worf's younger brother.
"Captain Kurn. It is good to see you again."
He watched as the Klingon bowed slightly.
"It is now Commander Kurn of the seventeenth defense fleet. I still remember your dead burnt bird-chicken when I was onboard the Enterprise."
His entire demeanor changed and Picard understood that the pleasantries were over.
"Two days ago, the Cylons attacked and destroyed of the farming colony of Kast'ka. The planet is lifeless; all three hundred million of my people slain. The Klingon council has authorized a full strike against our enemies starting with aid to the Romulan Empire whether they wish it or not. We then proceed to go on the offensive. Another fleet will be arriving shortly to follow us into battle."
Three hundred million people killed! The entire bridge crew was appalled. But it didn't explain how this could have happened.
"Beware Picard, the Cylons had cloaked ships. Do not be caught unawares."
He heard Riker whistle behind him. The war had just taken an ugly turn.
"Starfleet command needs to be informed of this," he said referring to the confirmation of cloaked Cylon ships, not as they doubtlessly already knew, about Kast'ka.
Kurn bowed once more and the communications were cut. Seconds later the entire fleet cloaked.
"I believe that the Cylons have pushed a little too far, this time," Commander Troi-Riker said.
"But why did they attack in the first place? Surely with cloaking technology the would have used it to better advantage than attacking a farming community."
"It is possible," Data began "that the Cylons believe that the Klingons would have been intimidated by such an action."
"Doesn't make sense."
"Everything that they done hasn't made sense," Deanna said. "They're stretching themselves thin."
"We've had this conversation before," Picard said rubbing his chin. "We are missing something here."
Data was one who provided a possible answer.
"Whatever their current plans are, the Cylons apparent aggressiveness will cause them to move in an offensive manner. Defensive tactics seem irrelevant to them. It is as though they have some imperative that compels them to attack without regards to the possible consequences to themselves. It appears we are dealing with a group of fanatics. I believe we must treat them as such."