Rankokun alpha and Sithspawn: Hey, I have a reputation for cliffhanger's to protect…
NovaFlame, Agent-G and AllisterH: longer chapters or more regular updates, you decide.
Anyabar: yeah, some reviewers seem to think you have nothing else to do but write for them…
Yahoo Serious: 1) I am trying to concentrate on one story at a time, but people keep bugging me for updates to others and my muse is a real bitch at times. 2) No, I did toy with the idea of brining in Lucifer, but he won't be making an appearance. For the purposes of this story, he doesn't exist. 3) Big fan of your films.
Shawn: Than you. Care to take the caps-lock off?
In truth, this is a story I work on every now and then, depending on how I feel. Those wanting faster updates and two-way dialog should check out the Ex-Isle online community, where I post this story as I write it.
When two Tribes go to war... (Part 7)The only way to describe the ship that appeared out of slipstream in front of the Achilles was beautiful. It's hull looked like an exquisite work of art, and it glowed like a lantern, lit from the inside by a bright light.
No one on the bridge of the Achilles moved, not even Ryan. They all looked on in wonder as the ship scanned the assembled fleet, then disappeared into slipstream again.
"What the hell…" Ryan blinked.
"You're sure the ship was Vedran?" Rommie asked as she waited with Ryan outside the Achilles' airlock, "There's no doubt?"
"The ship was of a design I've never seen before, but the power signature was defiantly Vedran." The other A.I. nodded, "What should we do now?"
"I saw we keep it quiet until we've finished our investigation of Colonial history: I'm having a hard time translating the texts Commander Adama gave me." Rommie stood to attention as the airlock opened, "I just wish the Admiral was still here."
"This is X-Ray One to base, I'm picking up a faint contact of the edge of sensor contact and am moving to investigate." Telemachus hit the transmit button and checked the lag-time: it would be almost three hours before his report reached the Achilles and the other High Guard ships.
The sleek Centaur slipfighter glided through the inner reaches of the solar system, its powerful gravimetric engines pushing it forward at close to half the speed of light, its advanced sensor systems scanning the empty void ahead, trying to lock onto the intermittent contact.
A pair of blips appeared on the edge of his screen, moving in a high-speed intercept course.
The Nietzschean held steady, waiting for his war-book program to identify the craft before acting. He looked at the screen, blinking when it came up with 'Viper' and the unmistakable silowet of the Colonial fighter.
"Why would Galatica have a patrol this far out?" He mused to himself, dialling the correct frequency on his com-system, "This is Admiral Rhade to Colonial fighters: what are you doing this far away from the fleet?"
The response was a volley of fire that ripped a hole in his port engine housing.
"Good to see you're still in one piece." Harper embraced Rommie as he stepped through the airlock, "I was worried about you."
"I'm capable of taking care of myself." Rommie protested, but returned the hug none the less, "It was touch and go for a while, but I'm still here."
"We were all worried about you." Dylan nodded, a huge grin on his face, "This is Marcus Conners, our ambassador." He motioned to a tall man in a well-made suite.
"We should get to the conference room." Ryan nodded, "I don't trust our 'guests' not to start fighting again if left along together for too long…"
Stars burst in Telemachus' eyes as his head slammed against the side of his cockpit, the result of another hit by the attacking Vipers. His instrument panel lit op red, denoting damage to several key systems. He shunted all available power to the communication system, hoping to punch through the jamming system that was stopping him from calling for assistance.
"Mayday. Mayday. Mayday. This is X-Ray One to any Commonwealth forces in system: I am under attack by Colonial fighters of unknown origin." The computer started warning of critical damage to his ships power plane, "Ejecting!"
Fighting the darkness that threatened to enclose his mind, Telemachus grabbed the ret lever between his legs and pulled back as hard as he could. There was a loud bang, and he was pushed back into his seat as the powerful emergency rockets fired, launching the sealed cockpit section into space and away from the doomed fighter.
The AG system failed to keep up with the demand placed upon it, and he passed out as his fighter exploded.
"Captain Hunt, I'm picking up a weak transmission from the inner system." Ryan stopped just outside the conference room, "It's impossible to make out what it says, but it is from the area Admiral Rhade was patrolling."
"Anyone else in that area?" Dylan asked.
"Negative: we don't have enough fighters to maintain a full Combat Space Patrol and screech the rest of the system." Ryan shook his head, "The Admiral insisted on flying without a wingman to give his pilot rest after the battle with the Cylons."
"Request permission to take the Hercules in-system and look for Admiral Rhade." Rommie came to attention; "He wouldn't abandon me when it looked like we were going to lose."
"Is the ship even capable of moving under its own power?" Dylan raised an eyebrow.
"I've had every engineer I can beg, borrow and steal from the Achilles, Black Watch and Zion working round the clock since they got here. I'm not saying she couldn't use a few weeks in space dock when we get her back to Mobius, but she can move and fight if she has to." Rommie nodded, proud of what she'd accomplished.
"Ok, but take Tyr and Harper with you: you may need them if things get rough." Dylan nodded, and then grinned, "I'm not sure how Andromeda's going to take you flying around as a destroyer."
"I'll get over it…" Rommie laughed, turning round and jogging off down the corridor to the landing bay, Harper doing his best to keep up.
Telemachus felt himself coming round, a harp pain in his arms telling him he was suspended from a ceiling by his wrists.
"He's coming around, sir." An unfamiliar voice seemed to come from somewhere behind him.
"Good." An older and more feminism voice responded, and a shadow fell across the Nietzschean's face, "I am Commander Sheba Cain of the Colonial Battlestar Pegasus, and you and I, my Cylon friend, are going to have a little talk…"
To be continued…