Raid on the Twelve Colonies Chapter 4, a battlestar galactica: 2003 fanfic

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Battlestar Galactica: 2003

Hope you enjoy the revised edition.

Reviews:

Just a Crazy Man: Thank You!

Blacksword Zero: And here you go! Hope you enjoy!

ShadowCub: Heh. Funny.

Colin: And here's the update!

Grayangle: Enjoy.

Middrean06: I hope you like it.

Cklammer: Thank you. And NOW its completed.

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For images, go to DeviantART, search up Lord-Lucifer1, click on Browse Gallery and then go to the Dominion Navy Folder.

Until far into the future, I won't be writing any more Dominion stories. The next one up, though, is a revised and brutal (for the Colonies…) Dominion-Kobolian War.

Eight weeks after the Holocaust…

The Holocaust, as some had come to call it, had completely and utterly devastated the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Of the eighty six Battlestars, not including their support cruisers and vast fighter squadrons, only a handful remained undamaged, with eighteen barely able to patrol the vast distances of their home star system. The shattered remains of space junk from what used to be Battlestars and Gunstars and fighters littered the orbits of every planet, and hundreds of bodies in various states of agony and shock floated amongst them. The sheer amount of dead lost in space numbered more than that of the Cylon War.

Planetside, it was worse.

The Earthican use of nuclear weapons and explosive firebombs had torn the ecosystems of many worlds into pieces. Major cities from Picon to Caprica had been eradicated to smoldering and twisted giants of steel. On every single Colonial world, nuclear winter reigned supreme as the skies were darkened by ash. On Aerilon, the 'food basket' of the colonies, fires raged for miles as valuable flood was burned into ashes. Aerilon had supplied food t three different colonies on its own, and had only just recovered from the loss of the Cylons years ago during the Revolt. Billions of people across the Star system who depended on Aerilon food died from either radiation poisoning or starvation.

Many more died from severe injuries.

From Colonial One, floating above Caprica, President Adar buried his face in his hands, crying for that entire he had done. By the Gods, he thought painfully as the private vessel passed the torn Flight Pods of a Mercury-class Battlestar. Atlantis was its name, the name of the Battlestar that the Flight Pod belonged too. Oh Gods, he begged, oh please let this be the end! He had done so wrong, wrong in listening to Nagala!

By the Gods….

Why?

Why did he listen to her?

"You shouldn't worry Mr. President. The Earthican's are going to be caught completely off guard, I can guarantee it."

"Are you sure?"

"Quite positive," she said.

Adar frowned from behind his desk. "How many ships are you going to need?"

"At least half the Battlestar fleet," she said crisply, hands crossed behind her back. Unlike the majority of the senior officers in the Colonial Navy, Nagala wore a black uniform, a variant that had been used during the Cylon War. "Including," she added, almost as an afterthought, "eighty seven Gunstars, a refueling fleet and a number of Tyllium Miners as well, to supply our vessels enroute."

Adar gaped at him: "That's all?"

Nagala nodded. "Nothing else," she said.

The President slumped in his seat and sighed. By the Gods… that would leave a skeleton force in the Twelve Colonies, and he wasn't sure how he was going to get that by the Council without having to use up some of the favors they owed him. And he didn't want to use any of those favors yet. Adar hesitated. "What about the report of the Earthican's using beam weaponry and plasma? The Council of Ares have all told me that if the Earthican's do possess that sort of weaponry, then our Battlestars won't stand a chance against them, much less our Gunstars you know."

Nagala frowned.

"From the images and videos our Stealthstars took, they seem to have only a handful of warships with those types of weapons. From what I've been told with the talks between the Colonies and their Dominion, the Earthican's suffered a disastrous war almost a century or two ago, and the military that they keep is a shadow of what it used to be, and only as a police force if that."

She paused and went on: "Sir, I also regret to report that the majority of our Gemonese within the Fleet are crying for war against Earth. And to tell you the truth, your Excellency, I want to fight too. The Earthican's have clearly lost the path that we all embrace. Gods, sir, they don't believe in them!"

Adar nodded.

"I know that, Admiral. I detest the Thirteenth colony for that too, but after the Cylon War, I don't want to bring any harm to the people. There are still so many scars on our society from that disaster." He sighed. "What about retaliation from the Colony? Certainly with the amount of colonies the Thirteenth has, they can mount an assault against us if your assimilation of the Colony doesn't work."

Nagala narrowed her eyes. "Mr. President, I can assure you Earth's Dominion won't be capable of launching any assault against us when I'm through with them. They have only one or two true Capital Warships, and they are in no status to build any form of warships to supplement their own fleet. No, when I'm through with them with the Thunderbolt of Zeus himself, the Thirteenth will be united, whether it wants to or not, with the Twelve Colonies. Of that sir, I assure you."

Adar nodded-he had him riled up! But he had to be cautious, and careful. "Alright, alright. I'll get a meeting with the Council; they'll say what they'll think as well. If the majority of them agree with your view and whatever battle plan that you have, then I'll give you command of any number of BS-G's that you feel you need to unify the Colonies."

The Admiral saluted and swiveled on he r heels.

He smiled grimly.

Gods help them all.

Now…

Now they were all suffering for his mistake. He chuckled darkly as he thought about what this was going to do for his re-election. From what little communication that was being exchanged back and forth, relayed by re-commissioned Prowler-class Gunships (antique models from the Theed Fleet Graveyard,) people were baying for his blood, and for revenge for everything that had happened. Sadly enough, he couldn't blame them. But then, Nagala had assured him the Earthican's weren't capable of attacking them, that within days, the Dominion of the Thirteenth Colony would be part of the Twelve Colonies! But she lied, and she underestimated the Lost Tribe.

Their beams weapons had been more destructive than thought, and their nukes… Oh Gods, their nukes were monsters. He'd been lucky to have been on his private vessel when the attack started. They'd jumped beyond the solar system, and waited it out while the attack raged across every planet. It was a coward's way to live, but he was President of the Twelve Colonies and he had a duty, if he kept that duty which he doubted, to stay alive to lead the people after this.

One of his aides stemmed into his room. "Mr. President?"

"Yes Nicholas, what is it?" He sighed.

"There is a Battlestar incoming and requesting to speak with you."

He frowned. "Who?"

"Admiral Nagala."

Weaving through the clumped up fields of Debris from the shattered and melted remains of Battlestars and Gunstars, Gunships and Fighters, the sleek alien fighter nimbly flew around and above. Its pulsing red eye scanned everything it moved around, looking for anything that could be useful. Its orders were simple, after it had been routed to this location in order to discover why several hundred agents had suddenly been Reborn. It had not expected to fight what it did.

Shattered homes.

Burning worlds.

Obscured skies.

Debris-filled orbits.

Plans had changed, and the fighter was an instrument in the Greater Design.

~PRIORITY CHANGE…~

~ACCEPT PRIORITY CHANGE...~

ACCEPTED…

~REGROUP WITH SCAVANGE TEAM TWELVE…~

ACTIVATING FTL DRIVE…

TRANSITION COMPLETED… REGROUPING…

Scanning…. Scanning… Scanning…

ALERT! UNKNOWN POWER SOURCE, RECOVERY TOP PRIORITY!

The deadly fighter, accompanied by a dozen other of the same types and three that were far larger and bulkier, talking its graceful curves and inhuman design, surrounded the torn piece of weaponry. Plasma based energy… advanced cooling system beyond what its makers were capable of… somewhat salvageable… oh yes, this was a key. One of the bulky spacecraft grabbed the cannon, and vanished in a pulse blinding flash of light. The rest of the spacecraft spread out, searching for more.

They had to be careful of course.

The meat bags were used to less advanced models, having not seen what their children had created in the decades since the Awakening. Evolution had taken its course, unnatural and natural. Weaker and less advanced models had been eliminated and replaced; the newer models had taken their place. The Plan was to happen here, the same circle of life and death…

But things changed.

A new variable had been introduced.

But the path would continue.

It had to.

It would.

"YOU BITCH!"

Nagala stood before him, arms crossed behind her back with a distant but emotionless look on her face and in her eyes. Adar paced in front of her, in his office with a look of fury and anger in his face. "You assured me none of this would happen, that with your plan, we wouldn't have to worry about this!"

"Mr. President…"

"Don't 'Mr. President' me!" He shouted, slamming his fist on his desk. "By the Gods, do you see what a complete disaster your frakking plan is? We're done for; the Colonies can't recover from this!"

"Not economically, not yet anyway," the Admiral said quietly.

"What?"

Nagala took a deep breath.

"Sir, do you know what Project: Exodus is?"

Adar frowned. "No, but what does that have to do with anything?"

She smiled. "Everything."

She loosened a bit, but she kept that cold and predatory smile on her face. "Project: Exodus was a failsafe in case my operation failed, which it did. I was unable to bring the full force of my fleet as many of my ships suffered failures with the new systems hastily installed on them, and I took the operation without full force. It took time, and the Project is still not completed, but we've made dramatic headways."

"What do you mean?"

"The Colonial Military has been keeping a lot from you, President Adar. The Nova was a prototype for the more completed version. It took time, and this was before First Contact with our Lost Tribe, but we refitted virtually all of our old Olympus-class Space Stations to serve as mobile Shipyards and refit facilities. They're all capable of FTL-travel, and carry eight squadrons o Vipers and Raptors. They've been building many ships since their completion, and one of their result, rather two, are the Hyperion and Apollo. They're Nova-class Battlestars Mr. President. They're more complete than the Nova itself, and carry more weapons. We have two dozen Battlestar Groups recently finished that the Earthican's didn't know about, and many more military bases."

Adar was lost for words.

"I've sent all Gunstars and Battlestars to search for any useful technology from any of the few ships that the ships here managed to take out," she said, taking his speechlessness for something good. "So far, we've managed to recover the hulls of a few ships and I've sent them to what defense and manufacturing companies that still exist. Hopefully we'll be able to replicate their armor and adapt them to our ships. I've also re-commissioned every ships in the Fleet Junkyard, and modified a number of civilian cargo ships and-"

"What gives you the right?"

She blanched. "Excuse me?"

"The people have suffered enough. And you want to launch another attack on Earth. Oh don't give me that look; I know what you're implying. No, no more Nagala. We're going to sue for peace, and see if they can forgive us." He walked behind his desk, his back facing her as he looked at the floor.

He sighed. "Admiral Nagala…"

BANG!

Armistice Station

Packing his thanks into the leather suitcase, Colonel Wakefield picked up a picture of his wife and his son, Boxey. He smiled at the smiling little boy, and felt pained that his wife had died a few days after the picture had been taken. Gods… she had survived in space for several days when her transport engine's failed, only to die of a heart attack. She was young too, and healthy.

She didn't deserve to die.

But she had.

What was he going to do about it?

'Come home and see my son, and take care of him the way she would have wanted me to,' he thought somberly. He packed the picture into his case and began to collect all of the files he had. It had been year since anyone had seen any of the frakking Cylons, but they still kept on sending him here. No one had seen a Cylon in so long, they'd become nothing more than something to scare children. He paused as he held up a piece of paper with words CYLON SPECIFICATIONS: CYLON CENTURION MODEL 0005.

Gods...

Wakefield had been an un-amusing man, a man more concerned with getting this petty mission over with then actually doing his duty. He was officially retired, wanting to spend more time with his son back on Caprica. Yet being the only person in the military still willing to actually board Armistice Station these days, since no one else came to the station except to keep it shining. But today, today was his retirement from the Fleet. He had been isolated in the station, not knowing what was going on in the Colonies. Dear Gods, he wondered what he missed.

He glanced around.

Nope… he wasn't going to miss the place.

The facility was an ugly thing, a large box atop a control spire, wilted gold solar panels hanging off the sides like sad wings. Armistice had been built in the first days of peace following the end of the war, when resources were scarce and everything beyond just surviving to the next day was considered a luxury by some citizens. She was designed to be the icon of Colonial engineering, something that the higher up brass could show off to the Cylon delegation that was suppose to meet with them every year.

A delegation that never came.

Since the war ended no one had heard anything from the Cylons, they had disappeared into the void of space like a speck of dust in the wind. As he put the papers into a folder, he didn't realize the bright flash of light burst above the station, or the single space craft leave the massive star-shaped ship. Even as he dumped all the papers into his suitcase to bring to the next ambassador, the broken sensors onboard the station never picked up the four hulking machines or the man standing between them as they boarded. The internal sensors didn't pick them up though the cameras did.

Boom…

The man froze as he heard the station quiver, and saw the humanoid shadows before he saw the actual thing. He dropped his suitcase, eyes wide in terror as he fell on his seat, and stared into the four pulsing red eyes. His mind raced to the images of the Centurion, to the schematics and everything he learned and saw on the war. By the Gods… these couldn't be those frakker toasters!

Could it?

A man walked up to him from behind the machines.

He leaned and smiled somberly.

"My name is Brother Cavil. And I'm here to offer you a deal."