Disclosure
by
Chaoseternus
The Truth Is Out At Last, Are You Ready For It?
Reminder: This fic contains scenes of violance and warfare
Fourty-one
"Jaffa, Kree! Sha'lokma'kor shol'va!"
Well, I didn't have a clue what those Jaffa just said, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that 'attack' was involved in there somewhere, a point confirmed as mere seconds latter the corridor began shaking, a heavy pounding being transmitted through the ground.
Of course, I had a little surprise ready for them.
A little surprise I had very gingerly edged around the corner, and pointed towards the enemy position. Now, I was looking at the charging Jaffa through a mirror of the short more normally used by dentists to see inside of a mouth.
The Jaffa, despite their bulky, annoying armour were moving fast enough, they would be in position fast enough. Pity for them as we had been hoping for a counter attack along the narrow confines of the corridor.
I nodded; there was a clicking as besides me a Russian Stárshiy leytenánt triggered the detonator. Then, a crump, felt more then heard, as the hastily improvised claymore detonated.
We waited just a beat, long enough to hopefully ensure the last of the nails and other debris the device has been packed with had come to a stop, and then weapons charged, we dived out of cover, racing over the shattered bodies of several Jaffa towards their own positions.
Return fire was minimal at first, the Jaffa obviously shocked and surprised by thr devastating effect of the hastily- made bomb we had used against them, but their training, or should I say, indoctrination, shoved swiftly through and they rallied.
Not before we had killed another twelve Jaffa though, and pushed their defensive line back out of the corridor.
A quick check of my GPS set showed me that we were now only 100 metres from the hellmouth itself.
"Fire Mission! 45 Jaffa inside, blue sector, quadrant 8, north corner, apparently waiting for orders to reinforce. Fire for effect"
"Medi-vac required, inside blue sector east corner, quadrant six, for six"
"Under heavy attack, inside green, quadrant 4, north corner. Reduced below combat effectiveness, request assistance"
"Red Sector breeched, I say again, red sector breeched. All available units proceed along following path to reinforce breech, most immediate! Path is as follows…"
"What!" General Hendricks snapped, his head around, startled, "what was that last transmission?"
Penhall smiled, looking up from his communications post, "we have a report of a breech into red sector, commander on the scene is calling for all available units to reinforce and widen the breech"
"Confirm the breech," Vladin nodded, "as best you can, if genuine…"
"Then we are merely closer to the objective," Hendricks snorted, "we will not have won until the mouth is ours and the last of the enemy is being rounded up"
"Da Comrade," Vladin replied, "still, hope for the best and plan for the worst"
"Yes," Gel'tec nodded, "that is a proverb I must say I see sense in. Still, we can reinforce?"
"Judging by the path this… Lucien, SAS is reporting, the closest units in a position to reinforce are outside the base, three fresh Spetsnaz units. Whoever this Lucien is, he's punched a route straight through, but he has left his flanks vulnerable"
"Label the path Red Route One, send those Spetsnaz units to reinforce Luciens position," Hendricks ordered, "and find more bodies to secure the route"
"Aye sir," Penhall nodded, turning back to his console.
"Daedalus, I say again, Daedalus, request assistance at…"
"Copy your Deadalus," Penhall replied swiftly into the radio, "please state your location"
Hendricks grimaced as there was no response, that position had most likely been overrun already. They had at least lasted long enough to give them some warning though.
"Warning signal to all positions Major, Supersoldiers reported on the move, no confirmation of location available"
"Aye Sir, Penhall replied, "should I contact each team for confirmation of status?"
"No," Hendricks sighed, "we can't afford to tie up the comm. nets for the hour or so that would take"
"That will give us some difficulty tracking the movements of the supersoldiers" Gel'tec noted.
Vladin snorted, "They have three options. Defend the hellmouth, in which case we know where they are and can act accordingly. Counterassault, in which case we hope somebody gets a full distress signal out or break-out, most likely to get their god to safety, in which case they will effectively take themselves out of the fight in short order. Either way, we will know soon enough"
"Perhaps…" Hendricks, frowned, "is Lucien's group still reporting?"
"Affirm, as are all units moving along the route"
"Then our breech is still secure, that is what we must concentrate on, for the moment"
"Da," Vladin nodded his agreement.
Thundersdawn Station, High Mars Orbit
"General Quarters! General Quarters! Commodore Peters to the bridge, all hands Battlestations"
That, Commodore Peters thought as once more, she found herself hastily chucking her uniform on, is an obscene way to be woken up. They really needed to invent a uniform that didn't crease, at least then she would be able to sleep in it, saving about 76 seconds of reaction time.
And wasn't it just sad that she had timed how long it took her to get her uniform on?
Peters stilled, a slight movement, barely noticeable in the deckplates shocking her. The stations main weapons were firing.
Her uniform in her hands, Peters raced towards the bridge.
"All batteries fire as you bear" Ensign Morris screamed, her voice horse, her palms sweaty and clenched hard against the arms of the command seat.
She was 3 rd Tactical officer for heavens sakes; she didn't have the experience to deal with this! She wouldn't even have had command of the night shift if the normal OOD hadn't died during the last attack.
"We have confirmation of Ids Commander,"
Commander, that was her, right, Officer in charge was always Captain on a Naval ship, Commander on a Naval base, saved confusion, is the person in charge ranked Captain? Are they the OOD, not the quickest things to say in a combat situation, or what?
Damn it, she was drifting.
"Hostile vessels are Cylon secessionists"
"I don't care, they fired upon the station on my watch, therefore they die," Who was that speaking in such a quiet, controlled voice?
Oh, it was her, right.
"Set fire priorities: incoming ordnance, boarding craft, capitals launching or ready to launch fighters, fighters, then others"
"Aye Commander," Cadet Mohammed responded, his hands racing across his controls, "locked into guidance computers. Yorktown has been bracketed, she's lost orbital stability"
"Our shield integrity?" Morris snapped.
"87 but stable"
"Then we can afford to take a few hits," she smiled, viciously, "concentrated fire procedures, all capital batteries on the closest basestar, then the next"
"Aye Commander," Mohammed replied, his voice betraying not just his satisfaction with the order, but his fear, his anxiousness. He too did not really have the experience to be on the bridge during a major engagement, but like Morris, he was doing his job anyway.
"Commander,"
"Yes Petty?" Morris asked her hands white with the pressure they were exerting on the arms of the chair.
" Britannica requests permission to launch"
"In the middle of battle? Denied"
"Capital one destroyed," Mohammed reported, his tone now screaming his exhilaration, he had been responsible for the destruction of an enemy capital ship, "moving to capital two now. Shields 81 and eroding"
"Fuck, where is the fleet?" Morris shouted; her voice harsh as the station shuddered.
"Scattered around the system, no ETAs as yet," Petty officer Barrett reported.
"Contacts disengaging!" Mohammed shouted, "basestars one and two destroyed, number three is exiting. Multiple jump signatures from the minor warcraft"
"Maintain fire," Morris sighed, her hands loosening on the command chair, revealing the marks in the heavy material her hands had moulded into "send them off in style. Reads like a raid, bet they were planning to catch us all in bed, asleep"
"That would be my analysis too," Morris cringed at the voice behind her, "Commodore has the conn,"
The shaky, sweating Ensign stepped away from the command chair, "Commodore… commodore has the conn aye"
The look Peters shot her could best be described as a mixture of approval and concern, but Morris didn't notice. She was slipping into shock.
