Buck Rogers: Somewhere Beyond the Heavens
Part 3
"Boy, they are coming in hot!" exclaimed Buck as he carefully monitored the approaching enemy on his flight scanner.
"Clearly, their speed is superior", said the always serious Hawk.
"Prepare to engage", ordered Wilma, desperately trying to keep her composure.
Wilma was an experienced combat veteran, but this was unlike any battle she had ever been a part of. This was a completely new, completely unknown enemy from a technologically advanced civilization. She prayed her young Starfighters were up to the task.
"Attention all Starfighters!" she cried. "Switch to manual! I repeat, Switch to manual! Combat computers off."
"Wilma Deering?" said a shocked Buck.
"Not now, Buck. I want everyone using your god given instincts to survive", she explained.
Suddenly, flashes of blue white exhaust streams roared by the Searcher squadron. Buck was nearly knocked off course by the close proximity of one of these new bogies that came roaring by them from behind.
The Starfighters from Searcher suddenly found themselves in the rear flank of a maddening battle. Buck was immediately impressed with these guys, whoever they were. He saw several streams of red laser fire find their marks instantly, turning the approaching enemy into fireballs.
"Wow", sighed Buck.
"Let's join the party", said Colonel Deering.
Buck, Wilma, Hawk and the rest of the Starfighters engaged the Cylons with a ferocity that they themselves never knew they had.
"I got one", chirped an ecstatic Wilma.
"These guys aren't all that", said an arrogant Buck as he blasted a Cylon fighter to oblivion.
"No, but their technology is quite impressive", Hawk said with some duress. His ship was taking heavy fire from a half dozen Cylons.
"Hang on, Hawk!" shouted Buck. "I'm coming!"
Hawk dodged and ducked in and around the vastness of space to no avail. He could not shake his pursuers.
"Stay calm", came a voice over Hawk's cockpit speakers. Hawk did not recognize the voice, but it did sound human----and friendly.
"You're caught in a Cylon Pinwheel attack", said the voice as Hawk's ship was rocked by laser fire. "Look at their orientation, you just have to time your counterstrike perfectly."
"I see the opening," shouted Hawk as he pressed his auto fire. The blackness of space erupted in deadly yellow salvos of energy. Three Cylons exploded almost instantly.
"Ok, Mister Cylon. We call this blitzing your linebackers!" sneered Buck as he blew away another one of Hawks' pursuers.
Hawk's anonymous friend destroyed the remaining two Cylons.
"Thank you, whoever you are", sighed Hawk.
"The name's Boomer, friend. Anytime."
"I am Hawk."
"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Mister Hawk. Now, if you'll excuse me", said Boomer as he veered away firing his lasers at a new target at full turbo thrust.
"Nice shooting, Boom-Boom" said Sheba.
"Watch it Sheba! You've got one on your tail!" Buck heard a strong male voice shout over the com-line.
"Apollo! I'm in trouble!"
She certainly was, thought Buck. He could see one of the sleek Galactica fighters, Vipers he had heard someone say, and desperately trying to evade three of the oval shaped enemy craft.
"I've got ya' miss", said Buck as he veered his fighter in Sheba's direction.
Elsewhere, Wilma rolled her eyes. Buck always had to save the young maidens in distress.
"I can't get there in time", cried Apollo, his viper burrowing through thick laser fire towards his lover's plane.
"Not to worry friend", said Buck as he calmly created three more Cylon fireballs.
"Thank you", said Sheba as she finally was able to exhale.
"My pleasure", said a smug Buck.
"They are retreating", reported Hawk.
"And I see why", added Wilma.
The monolithic ship arrived on the scene and looked like a whale amongst starfish. Immediately, the giant ships laser batteries sprung to life, destroying dozens of enemy fighters.
"What is it?" asked an awed Wilma.
"It's our home", replied Apollo.
Baltar put the shovel down. He had to rest. Although he had lost a considerable amount of weight since his rescue, he was by no means physically fit. As he wiped away the sweat from his brow, he wondered how much more of this he could take. It was as hot as a blast furnace in the boiler room his captors called an engine room. He knew that if he were caught taking a free micron, he would be shot immediately.
The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the return of his master. Baltar drove his shovel deep into the gooey mineral and tossed it into the fiery furnace. He began to pick up the pace, realizing that his master was right behind him.
"You are pathetic, Baltar", said the frighteningly gravelly voice.
Baltar stopped, turning around to face the music. He knew this could be it, the end.
"Why we keep you alive is beyond me", said the hulking form before him. "If it were not for the code, I would kill you myself!"
"I-I'm sorry, Nador. I will do better", pleaded Baltar.
As the angry Nador stormed away, Baltar thanked the gods above with an exaggerated sigh and glance towards the heavens above. As he resumed his duties, he glanced around the dirty, dreary engine room. A half dozen other slaves were going about their duties, trying to stay alive. They were the dregs of humanity as well as other alien species that had been picked up along the way by the mercenary scavengers that commanded this broken down freighter.
Baltar thought back to the time many yahrens ago when he had sealed his own fate by making a deal with the devil, Adama. He sold his knowledge of the layout of a Cylon Basestar to the Galactica Commander in exchange for his freedom. When those two thorns in his side, Apollo and Starbuck actually succeeded in destroying the Cylon equivalent to a Battlestar, Adama kept his word and set him on the first habitable planet---marooned. Several yahrens later, the short range marker beacon the fool Adama had allowed him to keep was picked up by the motley crew of this ship, the "Nostedara". Nostedara was a Borellian Nomen word, which translated into Colonial basic as "Avenger".
The only reason Maga kept him alive was because Baltar had aided the Nomen in freeing him from life imprisonment on the Prison Barge. For that, Maga owed Baltar some debt of gratitude. This was some thanks. However, at least he was still alive. If it were up to Maga's son, Nador, Baltar would have been scalped a long time ago.
A strong shudder almost knocked Baltar and several of the other slaves off of their feet. Baltar could feel the ship's hull fighting through an atmosphere of a planetoid or moon. The Nomen never bothered to warn their slaves to hold on or strap themselves in. They were landing and that meant that the Nomen must have spotted something worth stopping for.
A short time later, Baltar and the other slaves were being herded out of the Avenger and into the blinding daylight of a barren, desolate world. It reminded Baltar very much of the planet Adama had marooned him on all those yahrens ago. He followed Nador's instructions and headed up a steep embankment of sand and rock. As the group reached the top, the sun shone down ever brighter, but Baltar could still see an excavation was already under way. Within centons, the slavers and the slaves had arrived at what appeared to be a crash site. Metal debris and the apparent fuselage of a spacecraft were strewn about the area. Then he saw it. The familiar marking he had seen so many times. It was on a very large piece or fragment of metal that could have once been a wing of some sort. Baltar's heart leapt from his chest. His eyes peered through the debris---searching- --searching-until he found the final piece to the puzzle.
The metallic helmet still shined brightly. It's silver chrome-dome seemed undamaged, but it was clearly not functional. The red eye scanner was not apparent. It was a Cylon Centurion. What did it mean? Had there been a battle above this planet? Was that devil, Adama, responsible? Nador shoved Baltar roughly.
"Get to work!!!"
"Y-yes, m-master", said Baltar, bowing his head.
Later that night, as the slave had gathered around a large fire, Baltar watched closely as Maga and his mate, Separa, dragged a lifeless form towards the ship. They let it drop, roughly, shackled it to the ship, and walked away. Baltar heard a cough come from the once lifeless form that was unmistakably human. Baltar bided his time and waited for the perfect opportunity to investigate this new development. The traitor of the entire population of twelve thriving worlds slithered his way over, undetected, towards this new captive. As he got closer, he could tell that this poor fellow was definitely human, a human male. Quickly, Baltar scanned the area one more time to make sure he wasn't being watched. Satisfied, Baltar tugged at the man's shoulder, turning him over onto his back to get a good look at his newest cellmate. He gasped when his eyes focused on the man's face. Slowly, his initial shock turned to elation. He almost laughed out loud.
It was Starbuck.
TO BE CONTINUED!
Part 3
"Boy, they are coming in hot!" exclaimed Buck as he carefully monitored the approaching enemy on his flight scanner.
"Clearly, their speed is superior", said the always serious Hawk.
"Prepare to engage", ordered Wilma, desperately trying to keep her composure.
Wilma was an experienced combat veteran, but this was unlike any battle she had ever been a part of. This was a completely new, completely unknown enemy from a technologically advanced civilization. She prayed her young Starfighters were up to the task.
"Attention all Starfighters!" she cried. "Switch to manual! I repeat, Switch to manual! Combat computers off."
"Wilma Deering?" said a shocked Buck.
"Not now, Buck. I want everyone using your god given instincts to survive", she explained.
Suddenly, flashes of blue white exhaust streams roared by the Searcher squadron. Buck was nearly knocked off course by the close proximity of one of these new bogies that came roaring by them from behind.
The Starfighters from Searcher suddenly found themselves in the rear flank of a maddening battle. Buck was immediately impressed with these guys, whoever they were. He saw several streams of red laser fire find their marks instantly, turning the approaching enemy into fireballs.
"Wow", sighed Buck.
"Let's join the party", said Colonel Deering.
Buck, Wilma, Hawk and the rest of the Starfighters engaged the Cylons with a ferocity that they themselves never knew they had.
"I got one", chirped an ecstatic Wilma.
"These guys aren't all that", said an arrogant Buck as he blasted a Cylon fighter to oblivion.
"No, but their technology is quite impressive", Hawk said with some duress. His ship was taking heavy fire from a half dozen Cylons.
"Hang on, Hawk!" shouted Buck. "I'm coming!"
Hawk dodged and ducked in and around the vastness of space to no avail. He could not shake his pursuers.
"Stay calm", came a voice over Hawk's cockpit speakers. Hawk did not recognize the voice, but it did sound human----and friendly.
"You're caught in a Cylon Pinwheel attack", said the voice as Hawk's ship was rocked by laser fire. "Look at their orientation, you just have to time your counterstrike perfectly."
"I see the opening," shouted Hawk as he pressed his auto fire. The blackness of space erupted in deadly yellow salvos of energy. Three Cylons exploded almost instantly.
"Ok, Mister Cylon. We call this blitzing your linebackers!" sneered Buck as he blew away another one of Hawks' pursuers.
Hawk's anonymous friend destroyed the remaining two Cylons.
"Thank you, whoever you are", sighed Hawk.
"The name's Boomer, friend. Anytime."
"I am Hawk."
"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Mister Hawk. Now, if you'll excuse me", said Boomer as he veered away firing his lasers at a new target at full turbo thrust.
"Nice shooting, Boom-Boom" said Sheba.
"Watch it Sheba! You've got one on your tail!" Buck heard a strong male voice shout over the com-line.
"Apollo! I'm in trouble!"
She certainly was, thought Buck. He could see one of the sleek Galactica fighters, Vipers he had heard someone say, and desperately trying to evade three of the oval shaped enemy craft.
"I've got ya' miss", said Buck as he veered his fighter in Sheba's direction.
Elsewhere, Wilma rolled her eyes. Buck always had to save the young maidens in distress.
"I can't get there in time", cried Apollo, his viper burrowing through thick laser fire towards his lover's plane.
"Not to worry friend", said Buck as he calmly created three more Cylon fireballs.
"Thank you", said Sheba as she finally was able to exhale.
"My pleasure", said a smug Buck.
"They are retreating", reported Hawk.
"And I see why", added Wilma.
The monolithic ship arrived on the scene and looked like a whale amongst starfish. Immediately, the giant ships laser batteries sprung to life, destroying dozens of enemy fighters.
"What is it?" asked an awed Wilma.
"It's our home", replied Apollo.
Baltar put the shovel down. He had to rest. Although he had lost a considerable amount of weight since his rescue, he was by no means physically fit. As he wiped away the sweat from his brow, he wondered how much more of this he could take. It was as hot as a blast furnace in the boiler room his captors called an engine room. He knew that if he were caught taking a free micron, he would be shot immediately.
The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the return of his master. Baltar drove his shovel deep into the gooey mineral and tossed it into the fiery furnace. He began to pick up the pace, realizing that his master was right behind him.
"You are pathetic, Baltar", said the frighteningly gravelly voice.
Baltar stopped, turning around to face the music. He knew this could be it, the end.
"Why we keep you alive is beyond me", said the hulking form before him. "If it were not for the code, I would kill you myself!"
"I-I'm sorry, Nador. I will do better", pleaded Baltar.
As the angry Nador stormed away, Baltar thanked the gods above with an exaggerated sigh and glance towards the heavens above. As he resumed his duties, he glanced around the dirty, dreary engine room. A half dozen other slaves were going about their duties, trying to stay alive. They were the dregs of humanity as well as other alien species that had been picked up along the way by the mercenary scavengers that commanded this broken down freighter.
Baltar thought back to the time many yahrens ago when he had sealed his own fate by making a deal with the devil, Adama. He sold his knowledge of the layout of a Cylon Basestar to the Galactica Commander in exchange for his freedom. When those two thorns in his side, Apollo and Starbuck actually succeeded in destroying the Cylon equivalent to a Battlestar, Adama kept his word and set him on the first habitable planet---marooned. Several yahrens later, the short range marker beacon the fool Adama had allowed him to keep was picked up by the motley crew of this ship, the "Nostedara". Nostedara was a Borellian Nomen word, which translated into Colonial basic as "Avenger".
The only reason Maga kept him alive was because Baltar had aided the Nomen in freeing him from life imprisonment on the Prison Barge. For that, Maga owed Baltar some debt of gratitude. This was some thanks. However, at least he was still alive. If it were up to Maga's son, Nador, Baltar would have been scalped a long time ago.
A strong shudder almost knocked Baltar and several of the other slaves off of their feet. Baltar could feel the ship's hull fighting through an atmosphere of a planetoid or moon. The Nomen never bothered to warn their slaves to hold on or strap themselves in. They were landing and that meant that the Nomen must have spotted something worth stopping for.
A short time later, Baltar and the other slaves were being herded out of the Avenger and into the blinding daylight of a barren, desolate world. It reminded Baltar very much of the planet Adama had marooned him on all those yahrens ago. He followed Nador's instructions and headed up a steep embankment of sand and rock. As the group reached the top, the sun shone down ever brighter, but Baltar could still see an excavation was already under way. Within centons, the slavers and the slaves had arrived at what appeared to be a crash site. Metal debris and the apparent fuselage of a spacecraft were strewn about the area. Then he saw it. The familiar marking he had seen so many times. It was on a very large piece or fragment of metal that could have once been a wing of some sort. Baltar's heart leapt from his chest. His eyes peered through the debris---searching- --searching-until he found the final piece to the puzzle.
The metallic helmet still shined brightly. It's silver chrome-dome seemed undamaged, but it was clearly not functional. The red eye scanner was not apparent. It was a Cylon Centurion. What did it mean? Had there been a battle above this planet? Was that devil, Adama, responsible? Nador shoved Baltar roughly.
"Get to work!!!"
"Y-yes, m-master", said Baltar, bowing his head.
Later that night, as the slave had gathered around a large fire, Baltar watched closely as Maga and his mate, Separa, dragged a lifeless form towards the ship. They let it drop, roughly, shackled it to the ship, and walked away. Baltar heard a cough come from the once lifeless form that was unmistakably human. Baltar bided his time and waited for the perfect opportunity to investigate this new development. The traitor of the entire population of twelve thriving worlds slithered his way over, undetected, towards this new captive. As he got closer, he could tell that this poor fellow was definitely human, a human male. Quickly, Baltar scanned the area one more time to make sure he wasn't being watched. Satisfied, Baltar tugged at the man's shoulder, turning him over onto his back to get a good look at his newest cellmate. He gasped when his eyes focused on the man's face. Slowly, his initial shock turned to elation. He almost laughed out loud.
It was Starbuck.
TO BE CONTINUED!
