Author: Cyclone
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link.
Rating: Nothing worse than on the shows, except maybe language.
Spoilers: Up to Symphony of Light for Robotech, with a few ideas picked here and there from other sources. For the other... you'll see.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: A navigational error throws the SDF-3 into the middle of another war.
Author's Note: Beware the vorpal plot bunny. Figured I ought to get at least part of this out before Shadow Chronicles comes out and completely debunks the whole thing. Not that The Prelude to the Shadow Chronicles hasn't already done that, but... oh, well.
"Come in, Exedore."
The Zentraedi advisor entered the admiral's quarters and said, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Admiral."
"No, no," Rick shook his head. "Nothing important, anyway. I was just reflecting on how history repeats itself." He had long ago given up trying to convince Exedore to call him Rick.
It took a moment for Exedore to understand what the admiral had meant -- he had, after all, been on the other side during the SDF-1's trek home -- but once he did, he nodded, "Yes, the parallels between now and then are striking."
"So, I take it you've been able to find out more about the Disciples of Zor?"
"Yes," Exedore replied.
Although Exedore had recognized the Disciples of Zor, his knowledge had been sketchy. He may have been the lorekeeper for the Zentraedi, but it had been generations since his people had had direct contact with their creators, receiving orders through Supreme Commander Dolza and down the chain of command from him. Making things even more difficult was the deliberate falsification of Zentraedi history and legend engineered by the Robotech Masters.
"As you might imagine, Admiral," Exedore continued, "Zentraedi records are remarkably vague, as they tend to be. Kobol was a prosperous Tirolian colony from the pre-robotech era. It would appear that, before his rebellion, Zor spent time on Kobol, working on various research projects."
"What happened?" Rick asked.
"According to Tirolian records," Exedore said, "while we Zentraedi were involved in pursuing Zor's ship, the people of Kobol began an armed rebellion, calling themselves the Disciples of Zor. Given that the Colonial people appear to have a legend of a thirteenth colony, Earth, I can only surmise that Zor told him of his plans and perhaps hoped to distract the Masters from following him."
"I take it it didn't work?"
"No," Exedore shook his head. "The Robotech Masters chose to respond with their own bioroid forces rather than recall the Zentraedi. The Disciples of Zor retreated to their home planet and began a mass exodus, featuring twelve large colony ships. Transponder records indicate the ships were named after the Tirolian equivalent of your zodiac signs. The Robotech Masters bombarded the cities of Kobol from orbit and did not pursue the fleeing refugees."
"Really?" Rick frowned. "I can't imagine they'd just let them go like that."
"The fold signatures had some unusual features, Admiral," Exedore explained. "The Robotech Masters were unable to follow and continually remained concerned that the Disciples of Zor would return."
"But they didn't," Rick stated. He rose and looked out his viewport thoughtfully.
"You said this happened while you were following the SDF-1," Rick said, finally, "but Colonial history indicates they left Kobol two thousand years ago. You weren't following it for two thousand years." He looked back at Exedore, suddenly uncertain, "Were you?"
Exedore shook his head, "No, we were not. I believe the unique fold signatures are the result of time travel. The Disciples of Zor fled to where the Robotech Masters could not follow: the past."
Flying a Horizon-E EWAC ship was not one of the more glamourous jobs in the REF Spacy, but 3rd Lt. Thomas Harris, pilot of the Horizon-E nicknamed the Crane, wasn't about to complain. Sure, the EWAC was virtually unarmed and moved like a slug when compared to a fighter, let alone a veritech, but that just meant it was more of a challenge when he really mixed it up. There was no such thing as a "front line" in space combat, after all; it was impossible for an EWAC to be both safe and effective.
He loved the Crane. He knew her nuances like the back of his hand, and he would choose her over any fighter any day of the week.
He was, however, bored.
Right now, the two Horizon-Es that had hitched a ride with the SDF-3 Pioneer, the Crane and Eagle, were both effectively flying a Combat Aerospace Patrol. The Horizon-E had far better sensors and greater flight range than the Legioss it carried attached to its belly. The other ships in the REF fleet were flying in a defensive perimeter around the civilian ships, though the six Horizon-Ts and the four Horizon-Bs were tucked in close to the larger REF ships, as without fold drives, the Horizons would have to rely on the larger ships' fold bubbles for FTL travel.
"Bogey, coming in!" the sensor operator and senior officer of the Crane, 2nd Lt. Annabelle Hanson, called out suddenly. "Six o'clock, low!"
Tom reacted instantly, pushing the ship into what would have been a screaming climb in atmosphere. He rolled the ship, presenting the thickly-armored top hull of the ship to the bogey, protecting the smaller and more fragile Legioss from possible attack. Throughout all this, he eyed the status indicator of the attached Alpha cockpit, ready to release the Legioss once its pilot, Sgt. Craig Horn, was on board and the cockpit sealed.
He glanced out the forward viewport, then glowered at the Mark II Viper that flew past.
"Not bad for such a big clunker," a female voice came over the comm. It hadn't actually taken too long for the Earthers and Colonials to adapt to a sort of middle ground language between Zentraedi and the Colonial tongue; the similarities were stunning, despite two thousand years of variation.
Tom also recognized the voice on the comm. It was one that had many of the REF pilots practically chomping at the bit and itching for the Cylons the Colonials had told them about to show up so that they could show her a thing or two.
What the hell, he thought. "You ain't seen nothin' yet, Coffee Girl," he said, pulling the ship into a tight barrel roll.
Lt. Kara "Starbuck" Thrace was a thorn in the REF pilots' sides. Only the CAG seemed unfazed by her brash comments. Then again, Commander Sterling had always been known to be a modest and calm person; he didn't earn the callsign "Igloo" by letting people get to him.
Feeling the timing, Tom suddenly pulled the Horizon-E up, crossing straight into Starbuck's flight path. A creative stream of epithets exploded from the comm speakers as she narrowly pulled her Viper out of the collision.
"I'm sorry, Starbuck," Tom said, merriment crossing his face at having humbled the Bitch, the REF pilots' private nickname for her. "I didn't copy that. Say again, over." He glanced over at Hanson, whose disapproving frown was belied by the amused twinkle in her eyes.
"Frak you," Starbuck spat, pulling her Viper away.
He grinned.
The day was looking up.
"This is unexpected," a Number Six said. "This could have grave impact on our plans."
"We should withdraw the resurrection ship," suggested one of the Number Eights. "These Earthers appear to have considerable firepower. If they were to attack it..."
"No," a Number Three replied. "Its function is too important. We need the information, and the fleet does not know of its existence."
"What of the other?" argued a Number Five. "They know about it. If they join the fleet..."
"They won't," Number Three replied. "It's time we dealt with that annoyance."
"By your command."
Commander Adama sat in his quarters and idly wondered what was going to happen next. The brief technological exchange with the Earthers was stunning. The Colonials only really had two things to offer the Earthers technologically: compact FTL drives and the technology needed to use tylium as a power source; their Dr. Lang had quickly grasped the basic concepts of tylium power and immediately set to work trying to figure out how to adapt their "protoculture" systems to it. In contrast, Dr. Baltar had practically disappeared into his lab, poring over the Gallant sidearm the Earthers had provided, and it was only the tip of the iceberg on what technologies the Earthers had to offer.
As the ranking military officer, Adama had been given authority to set priorities on what technologies were to be researched first, and he was quite honestly stunned by the array that the Earthers had to offer: handheld and ship-mounted energy weapons, superior armor plating, advanced warheads, cloaking devices. It was a lot to take in. He had settled on the Gallant because, although infantry combat was unlikely, the extremely limited supplies of explosive rounds bumped it up the priority list, and more importantly, it could be adapted to larger, fighter- and ship-scale weapons. Anything to alleviate the strain on the fleet's limited ammunition supplies would be a welcome addition.
There came a knock on his door, and he called out, "Enter."
The visitor did so, closing the door behind him and snapping off a smart salute. Adama rose and returned the salute, "Report."
"The admiral is safely away, sir," said his son, Captain Lee "Apollo" Adama and CAG of the Galactica. He had been giving Admiral Hunter a general tour of the Galactica and its operations. Adama and the president would be touring the Pioneer tomorrow.
Adama nodded. "Your impression of him?" he prompted.
"He was quite reserved, sir," Lee replied. "He seems... weary, sir. A lot like us. Like he's fought for too long. The admiral also appeared very interested in our Vipers."
"Was he a pilot or an engineer?"
"Sir?"
"You said he was interested in our Vipers. So, was he a pilot or an engineer?"
"He didn't say, sir."
"Guess."
"I'd say he was probably a pilot."
The commander nodded, "Thank you, Captain. Dismissed."
"Sir, there was one other thing."
"Yes, Captain?"
"When we visited the brig, he introduced himself to the prisoner. She requested political asylum."
Author's Postscript:
For anyone who's curious, yes, the "Igloo" callsign is a nod to Attention On Deck, used without permission.