Disclosure
by
Chaoseternus
The Truth Is Out At Last, Are You Ready For It?
Fourty-NineI have seen some strange sights in my time, but Agent Parker managed at that moment, to take the cake. He was in a bright orange jumpsuit with all markings removed, in pistol holsters he had a pair of zats, on his back he had some sort of pack that looked like the bastard child of a shuttle reaction thruster pod and some kind of sci-fi jumppack, his body was bulked out, heavily so, enough to make me think he was wearing some hefty armour underneath the jumpsuit rather then just a body-builder. In his hands was a battered, somewhat scorched clear plastic case containing what had to be one of the oldest books I have ever seen, in fact, if I am to be honest, it wasn't even a book, it was a scroll and it didn't look like it was a paper scroll either. The case was chained on a long heavy link to Parkers back-pack thingy and Frank himself, well, he just looked like he had survived World War IV, he was battered, bruises marred his face and he was holding his left leg very awkwardly, perfectly straight.
He made quite the impression.
"You might want to get this to the front fast," the man shrugged, "otherwise a lot of people will end up dying to retrieve it… again. Think you could get it right this time, its only your fourth attempt and I'm afraid the sphere got burnt out this time trying to get you a few more minutes so I wont be going back again"
"You…" I blinked, "just succeeded in making no sense whatsoever"
Frank groaned, "Can we worry about a lack of proper four-dimensional pronouns later and just get the book rushed to the coven ASAP?"
"Four-dimensional pronouns? I don't want to know" shrugging, I nodded to Penhall, giving the silent order to obey the strangers instructions. I wasn't too sure of who or what perhaps he was, but the fact that he had been allowed into the central bunker said a lot.
"I do," Vladin grimly commented, "you are Conundrum are you not?"
"Yes," Frank replied, eyeing the Russian General warily.
"Are you aware that the Russian government budgets 2 billion rubles a year just to figure out you've been up too?"
Frank grinned, "Only two billion?"
"Typical American Folly," Vladin noted, "certain things should not be messed with"
So, Vladin knew of Parker and didn't like it, interesting.
"No longer an issue," Parker grimaced, "the sphere could handle a naquadah generator once. Now, the damn thing has been burnt out"
"There's a seized civilian helo spooling up on top of the bunker now sir," Penhall noted, breaking into the conversation, "with no units still providing resistance, it should be safe to fly you direct to the engagement zone"
Nodding, Frank Parker ran from the room and I turned to Penhall, one further order falling from my lips, "make sure a guard goes with him, one who knows to shoot the bastard right between the eyes if he proves to be a threat"
"We've lost about a quarter of the port pulse lasers," Tigh commented angrily, "looks like a direct hit to the aft section of the suppression array"
"Noted," Adama grimaced, "they'll need to be replaced as a priority"
Tigh nodded once sharply, "Aye Sir," before turning back to the DC section.
"Manoeuvre completed," came the shout from the helm, "port hull now masked"
" Vipers have intercepted three leakers," Agapi calmly added, "one leaked. Estimated area of impact… the English Channel, close to the town of Margate"
"Estimated casualties?" Adama asked, dismayed and angry that even one nuke had gotten past their defences.
"Minimal, the English Channel is listed as a water feature"
Adama allowed himself a smile of relief for just a moment, before his grim look returned as the mighty ship shook once more, muted again, this was shield impact.
"Status of the other defences?" he asked, swiftly.
"Local Defensive Satellite network has been reduced, I'm reading only two sats remaining, war book says there should be nine," the young officer replied, "one Dauntless class, the Stingray is assisting. Several MTBs racing in from Thundersdawn station, looks like they were caught re-arming. Just sixteen missiles remaining"
He glanced up, catching the young CPO's eyes with a tight grin, despite being caught off guard; they might just manage to do this.
Lew Jarvis was a fisherman, he wasn't a particularly good one, but he was good enough to get by. This was helped by his estrangement from his family, all of whom had at least a million in the bank by the time they hit twenty-five and assumed that anyone who thought money wasn't the answer to all questions was retarded.
Lew knew he wasn't retarded, after all, he was the only one of the bunch who had been to University and gotten a hard degree, a full PhD in Marine Biochemistry, the others… well, lets just say Lew laughed at the thought of Political Science actually being a science and thought that economics fit most of the family. Not one of them, as far as he was concerned, had gotten anything that was worth the paper it was printed on.
Truth be told, he liked the simple life, he had his boat, he made enough to keep himself and his ship going, what more did he want?
This simple difference of philosophy he knew had kept him estranged from his family for the past fifteen years, but he didn't care, he wasn't going to change, not for them. He was perfectly happy where he was.
And now…
Now, even from his perch in the channel he could see the great clouds of smoke that covered London and the surrounding countryside as the city once more burned. He couldn't do anything about that, that was the governments job and right now, they were a little overwhelmed. He knew all to well that by the time the situation eased enough for the government to get the city back under control, then that little fire storm would make the Great Fire 1666 look like a simple house fire.
No, he couldn't help with that, but there were a lot of people crowding into makeshift refugee camps all around the countryside, they all needed water, which he couldn't help with, and food, which, in his own minor way, he could.
Sure, a few tonne of fish wasn't going to make a massive difference, but it might make some, and that for him was enough. Besides, it kept him on his own, busy, well away from the crowds, the chaos and perfectly positioned to escape to the continent should the worst come to the worst.
Something caught his eye, and to his dying day, Lew had no idea what exactly made him look up then, but he did.
Flash.
Flash.
Burning but momentary brightness, all in the same spot, that strange blue, harsh glow around a small, barely noticeable spot in the skies.
A battle, another one, it had to be.
Dear God, they were attacking again, why couldn't they just leave them alone? Hadn't they done enough damage already?
Apparently not, he decided, as immune to his silent, but heartfelt pleas, the explosions continued, harsh, bright but eerily silent.
His eyes caught something, a trail of blackened, burnt air as something raced towards the ground.
Dear God, they missed one. Where's it headed?
Here. It's headed here.
Frantic, Lew abandoned the set he was laying, and ran for the small compact bridge, his hands dropping onto the throttle just as the Cylon missile detonated.
Lew was lucky, though he never truly saw it that way.
He was on the periphery of the explosion and the sea took much of the energy of the explosion away as millions of gallons of water were instantly vaporised. His ship also had its stern to the explosion, allowing the small mass of gantries and metal storage racks at the rear of his ship to absorb much of the harmful radiations.
Still, he had his eyes open and the fierce heat and light of the explosion reflected off the water, searing his eyes.
Lew Jarvis would never see again.
