Disclosure
by Chaoseternus

The Truth Is Out At Last, Are You Ready For It?

Fourty-Six

Two of the grenades he tied to his belt, knowing that he would have use for them later, the other two he sent spinning over the top of the wall, hoping that it was thick enough to shield him from the blasts.

It was, but still, he felt the wall twist and bend as the eggs detonated. Taking it as his cue, Lucien rose to his feet, screaming as he rose up and clambered swiftly across the wall, zats raised.

Staff and zat fire splattered all around him, the Jaffa responding swiftly to the as yet minor breech of their defences, several racing towards him as he zatted the battered but recovering warriors around him. Four looked dead, but he zatted them twice anyway, just to make sure, couldn't risk somebody coming back to life behind him after all.

A form dropped into view beside him, and Lucien twisted around, zat raised defensively. It was a Jaffa, his armour still stinking of the blue paint hastily scratched up to identify the Free Jaffa troops from those of the enemy.

Another figure jumped across, a soldier, staff held clumsily in inexperienced hands, followed by a third, who slumped, lifeless across the wall, staining it with their life's blood, killed at the very last hurdle.

Lucien ducked, the return fire was becoming intense, too intense in fact, the Jaffa were concentrating too much on what was a minor and perhaps momentary breech, and from the quick glimpses he could grab, it appeared the other troops were capitalising as best they could.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of several figures racing towards him. He glanced across, they were Jaffa, they weren't marked and they were raising weapons in his direction.

They were a threat, they must die.

He spun, zats raised and spitting, two Jaffa fell, single bursts, merely stunned. A return blast from a staff cracked the wall beside him, peppering his face with shrapnel. Once again, he saw red a blood slowly oozed over his eyes, distorting his vision.

But not his ears, the sound of somebody shouting 'ease!' cutting through into his conscious mind like a hot knife through butter, and Lucien dived to the ground, zats still raised, still firing as he lay.

A familiar whoosh, then concussion, the floor dropping out from beneath him, hot smoke stinging his nose, the abrupt wind tearing his zats from his hands.

Groaning, one hand wiping the blood from his eyes, the other frantically feeling for a weapon, any weapon, he half-rose to his feet, remaining ducked behind the wall. Mere feet from his position, he saw the shattered, barely recognisable bodies of several Jaffa and no wall. The rocket had destroyed it, and now, pouring through the gap sprang ten soldier, rifles raised, uniforms relatively clean.

Fresh meat, all the better for the work that would have to be done here.

"Roll-up the breech," Lucien barked, his searching fingers catching the edge of one of his discarded zats, "we need to widen it"

A puzzled glance, and with a groan, Lucien tried again, this time in his halting Russian. That they understood, and with a determined nod, the group advanced along the wall as more figures dived through the breech, or dived across the wall.

They had forced their entry, nearly there.


"Cylon basestar has jumped, no further contact"

"Confirm 100 wild missiles, I'm picking up cylon frequency search radars but there is nothing I can see for them to lock onto" Hoskins added, his face not straying from his displays around them the bustle of a busy command centre continued, muted but all to active.

"They," Peters noted, "are going to be a bastard to clean up. Hate to be the EOD boy that gets that job"

"Fuck that sir; drop a nuke amongst 'em"

Peters grinned, "That would work too, still have a few to clean up though but nothing a decent AA platform couldn't handle. Well done Sub"

"Now reading 20 leakers past Stingray and the defence net. The support craft are not going to be able to deal with even half of those"

She nodded, "I know, but every missile they take out"

"Fuck. We lost the ad-hoc net, nuke proximity detonated"

Peters chilled, "they were loaded with soldiers for the fight outside London. How many did we lose?"

"I've lost total contact with twenty-five Paladins. Ten squawking a mayday, sixteen non-responsive and three… three dead, and dropping, rapidly"

"Give me some good news, please" Peters barked, annoyed, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

The sub shrugged, "the blast looks to have killed three Cylon nukes as well"

"Oh great," the Commodore continued bitterly, "three down is going to make a real difference. Flash a signal to the defence-air batteries on the ground, what's left of them. Maybe they can have better luck"

"Aye Commor… new contact! Low orbital, sensor data suggests jump type drive. It's a Capital ship"

"In low orbit?" Peters shook her head, "we're fucked. Recall all the pickets, we've…"

"Sir," Sub Hoskins glanced up for the first time, eyes wide, "reading Colonial IFF's, it's Galactica… and she is right in the path of the Cylon missiles"

Peters darted forward, her eyes disbelieving as she glanced at the display, she shook her head, shaking herself back to attentiveness, her arms noticeably shaking from fatigue, stress and a severe lack of anything resembling a decent meal.

"Let's worry about how they managed that one later, upload a full update to their tactical computers," Peters ordered, "and hope they are in a mood to accept it, paranoid idiots"

"Aye Commodore"