Disclaimers in Part One. Remember: REVIEWS equals MORE FANFIC!
For those still wondering:
English dialogue is in "".
Colonial dialogue is bolded.
Italicized dialogue indicates voices coming over the wireless.
With enormous (Basestar-sized) thanks to The Sidhe, who gave me one of the ideas appearing below. Check out "The Consequences of Not Being Pilot" to see why.
That all said, back to work…
THE LONG ROAD HOME
Book I: Promised Land
Part Four
That which was buried was brought to light, four thousand years of secrets revealed to all.
Humanity learned, was humbled, and matured with the new knowledge. Yet question remained.
Who were these travelers? Had they come in peace? Had they arrived by accident or design?
For eighteen years, humanity pondered these enigmas, almost despairing that the answers would never be known.
Then one arrived who could answer those questions, landing upon the earth like a fiery angel.
Two years later…
Two hours earlier…
1149 Hours GMT
Secure Command Center 'Babel'
10 miles beneath The Octagon
Only a select few knew of the existence of 'Babel', its construction having been carried out in the strictest secrecy and its purpose almost too terrible to seriously contemplate.
Undersecretary Cornwell and his aide stepped out of the high-speed elevator that delivered them to it. Captain Marcel quickly hurried over to his assigned workstation and plugged in his wireless pad, which immediately began dumping communiqués and reports to the terminal there.
"Asgard and Bouhuchan both report as 'Alert Received' and are redeploying. Ares and Darkside Stations are at full alert."
"Very well," Cornwell acknowledged as he took his own workstation. "Civilian alerts go out?"
"Screen is in effect, Sir. Uh, we're calling 'unscheduled Fleet drills' and advising they withdraw to Mars orbit." There was a urgent ping rang from his desk. "The Secretary General is on the blue line, Sir."
Cornwell picked up the old-fashioned looking telephone and said "Ma'am, Admiral Rice aboard the Olympus has issued a Case ZULU. No, Ma'am, I don't have any further data. I'd nevertheless advise you relocate to 'Babylon'. Yes, Ma'am. Thank you." He set the phone back down and looked at the now-lit strategic display taking up the wall before him, fighting all the while to keep his hands from shaking more.
He managed, somehow, to act normally as the rest of the Contingency Staff arrived and hustled to their assigned stations. For the next hour he simply tuned out the various status reports and other background noise, eyes intent upon the screen before them all. Only when Marcel approached him directly did he look up again.
"Flash traffic from Olympus, Sir." Cornwell took the sheet from his aide and read it silently. Without looking up from the paper he reached over for the blue phone and told Marcel "Modify alert status to ZULU-Beta."
"Yes, Sir." Marcel quickly moved away as Cornwell opened a line to the only other Secure Command Facility on-line right then.
"This is Babel; I need to speak with the Secretary General." He waited a beat. "Ma'am, I'm modifying the alert status as of…1258 hours…no, ma'am, downgrading it. Yes. There's been an unusual…development."
1315 Hours GMT
Owl 71, inside Battlestar Nemesis
No sooner had Owl 71 settled to the floor of the landing bay and Starbuck cut the engines than the Admiral was up and moving. "Major, Corporal , fire up the external chromatographs and get the standard mixes."
"Aye-aye, Sir. C'mon, Lewis." Major Zachary Taylor, Fleet Marine Corps and CO of the detachment aboard the Olympus unfolded his rock solid bulk from his chair and moved to the back with Corporal Anton Lewis, the detachment's second-line medic. Both men had the most technical experience with the equipment in question and so were natural choices.
"Sergeant Gaurlund, make sure the portables are in working order."
"Yes, Sir," saluted the remaining Marine, a compact engineer from Norway, as he swiveled his chair about and opened a secured footlocker beside him.
The Admiral turned to Starbuck next and nodded to her. The Colonel simply clicked over the comms station and said "Olympus Actual, Starbuck." When there was no immediate response, she tried again. "Olympus Actual, this is Starbuck. Please respond." More silence, far more this time.
The comms suddenly sputtered to life. "Starbuck, Olympus Actual. Reading you," was the static-obscured response.
"Acknowledged, Olympus Actual. Rome along the Tiger."
"Babylon along the Euphrates." Both the Admiral and Starbuck visibly relaxed at this, followed quickly by the others. "Sorry for the delay, Starbuck. Had to boost the signal." The CO's voice
"Understood. We're running standard protocol for MOSES contact. Stand by for further reports."
"Noted. Olympus Actual clear." The line didn't go dead and Starbuck quickly set the comms to passive, allowing Olympus to continue receiving transmissions across the wireless bands regardless of settings. She then reset the direct band to the one established for Nemesis. Nemesis Control, Starbuck. Please respond.
"Starbuck, Nemesis Actual."
"We've landed in the designated area and are running initial environmental tests. Do we have atmosphere here?"
"Affirmative, Cap…Colonel. You should have standard pressure in about ten more seconds."
"Understood, Actual. Stand by for Admiral Rice." She moved aside to allow the Admiral access to the comms. "Sir?"
Rice leaned in and spoke to the raised microphone. "Commander Tigh?"
"Admiral."
"Our contact protocols mandate one hour's isolation aboard our shuttle while external sensors test your atmosphere. We will need to keep our protective gear on for another 12 hours beyond that to ensure there is no delayed reactions."
"Understood, Admiral. Shall I order my people to keep their distance?"
"Absolutely not, Commander. In fact the more of your crew we can come into contact with, the better we can be certain there won't be any cross-contamination."
"You understand I'll have to discuss this with my command staff and CMO."
"Certainly, Sir. Please keep us apprised."
While the Admiral was carrying on with the other party, Starbuck kept herself staring straight ahead and tuning everything else out. It was the only way she could keep herself from reacting to Leoben's…appearance…at her right elbow.
Even through her helmet, she could hear him perfectly. "Ready for this?" There was no taunting or sour humor in his words, only genuine caring and concern. She hated him all the more for it. Intellectually she knew this wasn't the same Leoben who had tormented her on New Caprica or torn her soul open before that on Galactica; he'd admitted as much and proven it when he'd guiding her into the maelstrom that had deposited her here.
But the voice and face alone where enough to still put her on edge. It was likely that would never change, no matter how many times he stepped in to keep her from one mistake or another. And so she'd ignored him, or tried to at any rate.
"You can't admit this is isn't exciting for you." Leoben grinned slightly. "You get to lord it over everyone here…"
"That's not it…" She immediately bit her tongue, terrified one of the others overheard her.
Evidentially, the Admiral had. "Colonel? Anything wrong?"
"No, Sir! Sorry, it's just…" She trailed off, realizing Leoben as still watching her with a single raised eyebrow. "Just…anxious here."
The Admiral unknowingly mirrored the smile Leoben was giving her when he replied "I know the feeling."
"I doubt it," Starbuck muttered, low enough not to be caught this time.
Leoben apparently had. "He does care about you, you know? A great deal in fact. Perhaps you could try trusting him a little here."
This merely caused Starbuck to twist quickly in her seat, intent upon giving this apparition a true taste of Tartarus, only to find herself staring at empty space. "Colonel?" The Admiral sounded truly concerned now.
Starbuck made a show of leaning forward and gazing into the emptiness beyond the cockpit. "I thought…it's nothing, Sir. Thought I saw something out there…" She let herself fall back into the chair and forced a chuckle. "Maybe I'm getting…claustrophobic in here." The word was clumsy in her mouth, as so many other large words seemed to be.
The Admiral stared at her for a long moment, and then called over his shoulder. "Lewis?"
"Sir?"
"What's the air like out there?"
"So clean it's practically stale. The external sniffers haven't detected anything more exotic than a few whiffs of methane and helium, an' no negative mixes evidenced."
"Recommend we break seal on Phase One?"
"Your call, Sir."
The Admiral threw a mock glare at Taylor. "You Marine wimps," he growled.
"We just respect the chain of command, Sir," was the stockier man's reply with a one-shoulder shrug.
"Since when, jarhead?" No-one reacted to this exchange, it being well known Rice and Taylor had come up through the ranks together and were old friends. "Colonel, patch us back to Olympus."
"Aye, Sir. Done."
"Olympus Actual, Rice."
"Go ahead, Admiral."
"I'm making a command decision to terminate Phase One Quarantine at 1341 hours GMT. Confirm this."
"Confirmed, Admiral. Phase One Quarantine terminated on field command authority at 1341 GMT." Commander Avery-Hunter did not sound the least bit pleased with this news. "I'd like to note my protest against this course of action for the record, Sir."
"Duly noted. Rice clear."
"Olympus clear." The line cut so suddenly the Admiral and Starbuck both couldn't help but wince at the unvoiced reprimand.
"This is why you never piss off a Welshman," the Admiral noted sagely as Starbuck reset the comms
"I thought the Commander was from England."
"Exactly." Pleased to see the Colonel was momentarily distracted, the Admiral stabbed the comms and announced, "Nemesis Actual, be advised: we are confident there is no immediate threat of contamination and we will be disembarking within the next five minutes."
"Confirmed message. Disembarkation in five minutes, mark. Nemesis Actual clear."
The Admiral stood and turned to face the rest of them. "Let's be about this, officers." He offered a hand to Starbuck to assist her in standing. The Colonel looked too shocked by her superior's decision to offer protest or refuse.
1341 Hours GMT
It should have been a great moment, with pomp and ceremony to mark it for history.
Instead, like any truly great moment, it was marked only with the quiet hiss of a shuttle's door and the footfalls of booted feet on the deck plates. The five occupants of the Terran shuttle exited their vehicle without a word passing between them all. The only illumination came from the small flashlights mounted on their suits. These offered almost no illumination to their surroundings.
Each of them was loaded for bear, carrying side arms, web gear and portable sniffers. The three Marines also carried high powered assault rifles, each loaded with explosive rounds in the event this all did turn out to be a trap.
No sooner were they all clear of the ship then, without warning, the landing bay was flooded with harsh lighting from far above. Taylor and his men moved quickly to defensive positions around the Admiral and Starbuck, both of whom drew their own side arms. No targets of either flesh or metal appeared however. The only sign the cavernous landing bay was even used was handful of Raiders that were parked along the wall near them, their exteriors all painted a pristine white with blue trim and with Colonial lettering stenciled on their wings. Rice made a mental note to ask Starbuck for a translation for each later. More interestingly, there were two Colonial Raptors parked against the opposite wall, neither looking the worse for wear.
Major Taylor abruptly called out "Lewis? Guarland?"
"Clear," Lewis replied, equally loudly.
"Clear," Guarland echoed.
"Admiral? Colonel?" was Taylor's next call.
"Clear," each of them called out in turn. The Admiral kept his eyes forward but asked over his shoulder "Ideas, Colonel?"
Starbuck swallowed hard and answered "Probably trying to spook us, Sir."
Rice snorted. "It's working."
At that moment a hatchway barely ten meters away from them opened with a dull 'clank' that echoed off the otherwise bare walls like a cannon shot. A single Colonial officer stepped into sight a moment later, alone and apparently unarmed. Taylor and Rice kept their weapons trained on the approaching figure, both subtly moving to cover Starbuck.
The Colonial didn't seem bothered by this, marching forward to stop a good dozen paces from them. She stood there for several beats, observing them as carefully as they did her. Her uniform looked a tad careworn and carried Captains pips on the collar and pilots wings on the breast. She momentarily reminded Rice of the Colonel's aide back on Olympus, between her exotic beauty and the air of authority the officer she carried herself with.
Such thoughts were immediately dashed when the Colonial snapped a sharp salute towards them, but said nothing.
Rice as ever took the lead, holstering his weapon and offering a salute of his own. "Admiral Theodore Rice, Terran Defense Fleet," he stated in Colonial with as much authority as he could muster.
"Captain Sharon Agathon. Operations Officer, Battlestar Nemesis."
Rice felt Starbuck, who was still facing the opposite direction at his back, physically tense at hearing this. Rice recognized the name, recalling it from one of the countless debriefings from her. The significance however escaped him at that moment. He instead acted on auto-pilot and asked his rapidly-practiced Colonial, "Request permission to come aboard, Captain."
"Granted, Sir. If you'll follow me, I'm to escort you and your party to our Command Deck." She didn't wait for any acknowledgment from them, simply turning on her heel and marching back to the hatchway.
Rice didn't hesitate in issuing his own orders. "Shoulder arms. Colonel, you're with me. Taylor, the rest of you fall in line on the six." He then moved to catch up with their nominal guide, the others pulled along like froth in the wake of a ship. Once Starbuck was at his side, he leaned over and murmured "You have the party favor?"
"Right in hand, Sir." If their guide or the others overheard them, none gave any sign. They all marched on through brightly lit corridors that quickly blended into one another. What few crewmembers they encountered quickly moved out of their way, eyeing the lumbering quintet warily but otherwise keeping their peace.
The Admiral ignored it all in favor of keeping a closer eye on Starbuck's own reactions. She was tense to be sure, but it wasn't out of hostility or fear. He suspected it was more likely plain outright confusion, which he couldn't blame her for. The indirect but harsh glare of the lighting, the wide-yet-seemingly endless corridors, the scant signs of habitation or use, all of it lent a surreal quality to their journey. Doubtless Taylor and company were feeling twitchy from it all.
At some point they entered a larger far chamber that by coincidence or design was a rough approximation of the CIC on Olympus, albeit in more ad-hoc and slapped together fashion. Half the consoles were partially dismantled, the rest little more than exposed frames with wiring and crystalline filaments spilling out of them. Individuals in drab green fatigues, many looking too young) for such uniforms and none looking alike, staffed many of the consoles.
Rice felt a momentary, cold stab of paranoia run through him right then. Starbuck had been emphatic she knew of only twelve models of human form Cylons, all of which apparently 'evolved' in just a single human generation. How long would it have taken them to 'evolve' more, especially if the toasters knew most of the existing models were blown in one way or another? He could only thank the Almighty he'd had foresight enough to give Thrace the party favor before they'd left Olympus. He likewise prayed to any deity that might be listening it wouldn't be needed.
The otherwise empty center of the room was dominated by an oversized desk that appeared one part planning desk and one part wrought iron monstrosity. Two men in dress blues stood there, both with their backs to the new arrivals. Their guide came to attention and called out "The contact party, Commander."
The two men turned at slightly different speeds to gaze at them. Rice felt Starbuck stiffen again at the sight of them. The taller and younger of the pair reminded Rice of many of the ruby players he'd faced off against over the years: large and muscular, but carrying himself with a grace and confidence that seemed to belay his bulk. The Admiral noted how his pale eyes seemed to zero in on Starbuck while his expression remained completely neutral.
Rice turned his attention to the slightly shorter figure beside him, trying to reconcile the description Thrace had spent weeks relating with the living subject. The man was a bit taller and bulkier than Rice had come to expect. The plastic eye patch was anything but decorative against the weathered and lined face under it. What was most striking was the authority and bearing the older man presented, which struck the Admiral at odds with the image Starbuck had always imparted.
The man in question gave them all a single look, and then boomed "Visiting officers on the Bridge." The crewmembers, and Starbuck, all straightened to attention and offered salutes better left to the parade ground. Rice and the others followed suit after a few seconds. Both sides regarded the other warily for a few beats more in silence.
It was Admiral Rice who lowered his hand first, followed almost immediately by all others present. He then boldly took a step forward; eyes fixed expressly on Tigh, and extended the same hand towards the Colonial officer. "Commander Tigh?" he offered.
The Colonial mirrored the action, clasping the offered hand in his own and replied, "Admiral Rice. This is…an honor, Sir."
"The honor is mine, Commander."
Neither man moved, both knowing the importance of this moment and unwilling to break it. By some unspoken agreement, they did so as one and each took a step back. There was no protocol to direct what was to happen next. Both men knew this as well.
It was one of the sniffers softly chiming that broke the uncertain silence. "Air's clean, Sir," Lewis murmured aloud.
This caused Tigh to frown even harder. "What was that?" he asked his opposite number.
The Admiral quickly cleared his throat and explained "Our equipment is sampling and testing the air for anything that might prove contagious to us. Corporal Lewis was simply reporting an 'all clear'."
"I hope you aren't suggesting we're out to deliberately poison you all." The momentary quirk in Tigh's mouth belayed his tone. Admiral Rice managed to keep his own tone commendably serious.
"Certainly not, Commander. We're just being cautious."
"I should hope so, Sir." The two commanders nodded to one another, a natural understanding arrived between them. Tigh made a half turn and gestured towards the taller officer at his shoulder and a couple new arrivals who had slipped in otherwise unseen.
"This is my Executive Officer, Major Karl Agathon. You've already met my Operations Officer and acting CAG, Captain Agathon. And these two latecomers over there are my lead pilot, Lieutenant Costanza, and our medical officer, Lieutenant Ishnay." There was only the mildest tone of reproach toward the last two, though this was more than enough to leave all present clearly embarrassed.
Rice nodded to each as they were introduced, then mirrored the gesture. "With me are Major Taylor, Sergeant Gaurland, and Corporal Lewis, all from my ship's Marine detatchment." He paused, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically hesitant about continuing. Taking a further step to the side, he allowed Starbuck to stand in full view of Tigh and the rest. "I believe you already know Colonel Thrace," he finished.
The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of over a dozen pairs of eyes descended on Starbuck.
Unable to stand the silence or the stares, which should literally feel through the many layers of vapor-tight rubber and Kevlar mesh, Kara stepped forward and gave Tigh another salute. "Commander."
Tigh returned it, looking not a little wan suddenly, as if ill. "C…Colonel," was all he seemed able to get out. He quickly shook himself and continued, saying "XO, you have the ship for the next hour. Athena, Costanza, Lieutenant, you're with me. Admiral, if you and your party will accompany me to our Operations Room? We can discuss things better there."
"Lead on, Commander." Tigh moved off first, exiting through a nearby doorway, his officers filing after him silently and none of them giving the Terrans another look. Rice waited until Ishnay passed before following. Starbuck lingered a moment longer, meeting Karl Agathon's eyes, then turned and quit the room herself. Taylor and his men were on her heels, the atmosphere behind them anything but calm.
TBC...
Author's Notes: Yes, yes. I know its a short one here. Don't worry. The BIG meeting is coming up. Maybe we'll even get a few answers in the bargain.