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.
Karl "Helo" Agathon was wondering just what the hell was going on.
He had been assigned to an officer exchange program with the Earthers -- against his own very vocal protest -- to teach them about Colonial procedures and equipment and learn about Earth procedures and equipment. What made it worse was when he found out that the Old Man had left orders to keep him away from the cell where they were holding Sharon.
Right now, he was in the Montgolfier-class tender, the Wright, following his guide, a fiery redhead named Janice. The Wright was one of the two second-largest ships in the Earth fleet, each as big as a battlestar, yet still dwarfed by the massive SDF-3 Pioneer. The Wright's matching ship was virtually identical, built on the same frame, but it was a dedicated combat ship, the Tokugawa-class Xerxes. The seven smaller ships were all Garfish-class light cruisers, while the dozen smallest ships were a mix of Horizon types.
Plus, there were also the countless fighter craft scattered among the various ships. That the Pioneer alone carried over a thousand combat-ready craft was mind-boggling.
He and the other exchange officers of the Galactica crew -- Hot Dog, Racetrack, and Cally -- had been given a brief rundown on the ships in the Earth fleet, and for some reason, he had been singled out and led down this way instead of towards the military quarters.
"Here we are!" Janice announced as she knocked on a residential door. "I hope you don't mind, but given the circumstances, we thought you would prefer to stay here in the civilian quarter than in the officer dorms."
Helo frowned, but before he could ask what she meant by that, the door opened... and he froze in a warring mix of disbelief, shock, and joy.
"Sharon? But... what... how?"
Sharon threw herself into his arms and explained, "The admiral granted me political asylum."
"He what?" Helo blinked in surprise.
"The United Earth Government counts numerous sentient species as its allies," Janice threw in.
"Not to mention you," Sharon added.
Helo blinked, "Her? What about her?"
"You didn't tell him?"
"Tell me what?"
Janice shrugged, "It didn't seem relevant."
"What didn't seem relevant?"
The redhead's image flickered and faded, revealing a mechanical body beneath. "Holographic overlay," she explained. "I am a sentient android. Admiral Hunter felt Ms. Valerii might be more comfortable with another artificial life form as her guide."
Helo... honestly didn't know what to say.
"Commander, we have a right to know what's going on with those ships!"
That was, unsurprisingly, the Sagittaron representative to the Quorum of Twelve, Tom Zarek, leading the charge at the Quorum meeting. As usual.
Commander Adama inclined his head and replied calmly, "I have kept the president up to date with regard to our new allies."
"'Allies'?" Zarek repeated, his voice ringing clear despite the uneasy murmurs that Adama's statement had generated. "They're our allies now? This is something that should have been brought up before this Quorum, not unilaterally decided by you or the president. What do they want from us?"
"So far, nothing but an exchange of technology: tylium power and FTL drives."
"I find that hard to believe, Commander. Do you know what the people are saying in the fleet? Several ships got some garbled transmission when they first showed up, and now people are saying those ships are from Earth!"
"They are."
Dead silence greeted that simple pronouncement.
Sarah Porter, the Gemenese representative, cleared her throat, "Commander, if those ships are from Earth, then why are we not making our way towards Earth now?"
"Admiral Hunter," President Roslin spoke up, "has refused to take us to Earth." Another round of troubled murmuring arose. "He has informed us that Earth is currently occupied by a hostile species and that his people's military assets are committed to that war. Communication with them has been lost, and given the situation, Earth is too dangerous to risk going to until they reestablish communications."
The room erupted into a cacophony of voices.
"Well, that could have gone better," Roslin commented.
"It could also have gone a lot worse, Madam President," Adama pointed out. "At least now, we can focus on what to do next and let the Quorum figure out how to tell the rest of the fleet."
"Madam President, Commander Adama," one of the Quorum members called out, hurrying to catch up with them.
"Yes, Representative Zarek?" Roslin prompted.
"I just wanted to let you know," Zarek said, "that I fully support this alliance and offer any assistance I can to promote further cooperation with the people of Earth."
"Thank you, Representative Zarek," Roslin nodded politely. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Always happy to help, Madam President," Zarek nodded with his charming smile, then turned and left.
"I wonder what he's planning now," Roslin said idly.
"Maybe he isn't," Adama offered. At her questioning look, he elaborated, "We're on the run from the Cylons, we have one battlestar, and our situation is becoming more desperate each day. Sometimes, you just have to roll the hard six."
"What exactly does that mean, anyway?"
"Commander," Lt. Jarrell "Fuzzy" Kier handed the wireless handset to Adama as the Raptor flew towards the Galactica. "It's Galactica."
"Adama here," he spoke gruffly into the handset.
It was Tigh.
"We just picked up a basestar on the DRADIS," Colonel Tigh spoke into the handset. "We've launched the alert fighters and are notifying the Earthers."
"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Adama replied.
Suddenly, a large, dark-skinned man barreled into the Galactica's CIC. His uniform was not Colonial in origin, nor was his rank insignia. It was Colonel Vincent Grant, the senior REF officer participating in the hastily-assembled officer exchange program. His eyes darted across the various screens, but he said nothing, apparently content to silently observe their CIC operations, for which Tigh was immensely grateful. The last thing he needed was for some foreigner to frak up operations on his watch. Bill might have the patience to babysit, but Tigh certainly did not.
Dualla straightened from her task of notifying the Earth ships, "Sir, they say, quote, 'About time you noticed.' They say its profile doesn't fit the basestar data we provided them, more like a bigger battlestar." She paused, listening, "They also say, sir, that whatever it is, it's not in good shape. Its hull is venting atmosphere."
"Venting atmosphere?" Tigh frowned. "Cylons don't need atmosphere."
"Before, they didn't," Adama's quiet voice crackled over the wireless, and the colonel fell silent at the reminder of the human-like Cylon agents.
"Colonel," Dualla looked up again, "the Pioneer reports two more basestars jumping in, outside of our DRADIS range. Profiles match basestars, and they're moving to engage the new arrivals."
Kara Thrace was flying one of the alert Vipers and was making best speed toward the basestar that had jumped in system. Galactica had relayed to them that the Earth flagship had detected and was moving to engage two more basestars, and Kara was eager to see just what these Earthers were made of. Alerted to their position, she could just barely make out the two distant basestars as tiny specks in the distance.
Suddenly, the vacuum of space lit up in a blinding flash as a beam of energy lanced out past the Vipers on their starboard sides. The beam raced towards one of the tiny specks, and it winked out of existence in a muted flash.
"Hooolyyy fraaak..."
"Admiral... Target Bravo... has been completely destroyed," came the shaky voice of the Battlestar Pegasus's Tactical Officer.
Admiral Helena Cain stared at the display in stunned disbelief. The unknown fleet of ships the Pegasus had found itself moving toward after the jump -- against their will; the ship's main thrusters had gone offline just before the jump -- had just one-shotted a basestar from beyond any battlestar's effective combat range.
"My gods..." she murmured. She was not a religious woman. Sure, she paid lip-service to the Lords of Kobol, but privately, she was largely atheistic. She believed in efficiency, in military procedure, and in the merits of competence and firepower.
For her, this was akin to a religious experience.
"I sure hope they're on our side," muttered Colonel Fisk.
A split-second later, another brilliant flash lanced past again.
"Target Alpha... destroyed."
"Hell, I'll settle for them not pointing that thing at us," Fisk amended.
"Galactica, Starbuck, the Pioneer just one-shotted the two far basestars."
"Well, that leaves us with just the first basestar," Tigh commented, jamming his awe and fear -- no one should have that kind of firepower! -- down as much as possible. He whirled on Grant, "What the frak was that?"
"Synchro cannons, Colonel," Grant smiled in reply. "The Pioneer mounts two large ones as its main guns." As he explained, Commander Adama strode into CIC.
"Sitrep."
"The Pioneer's reporting the destruction of two basestars beyond our DRADIS range. Starbuck confirms," Dualla replied. "The Pioneer is tracking the approaching unidentified ship and waiting on us to confirm hostile or friendly."
"Sir... sir!" Gaeta suddenly spoke up. "I'm getting Colonial transponders from the approaching ship."
"Hell, now they're using our own signals against us," Tigh snorted.
Grant cocked an eyebrow at that. The Pioneer had reported that the closer sensor contact wasn't a basestar, but more like a larger battlestar, and now it was broadcasting Colonial transponder codes?
"Maybe," Adama said thoughtfully, having reached the same conclusion. "Weapons hold. Ship to ship, Colonial Priority One channel. Send hostile challenge and then put the reply up on the speakers."
Dualla bent to the task, "Attention, unknown vessel: This is the Battlestar Galactica. Identify yourself, or we will fire upon you.
"Range now seventeen hundred, sir," Gaeta broke in.
"This is the Battlestar Pegasus to the ship claiming to be Galactica," the speakers blared with a male voice. "Please respond."
"Pegasus? How could that be?" Tigh wondered. "The entire fleet was destroyed."
"Give me direct contact," Adama said, picking up the handset. "Pegasus, this is Galactica Actual. Authenticate identity with recognition codes immediately."
"Sir," Dualla reported, "I'm receiving Colonial recognition codes. They're authentic."
"Galactica," came a female voice over the speakers, "this is Pegasus Actual. Adama, is that you?"
"Admiral Cain. What a pleasure to hear your voice."
"Trust me, Commander, the feeling's mutual. We've taken heavy damage, and our engines are shot. We're drifting, and we could really use some help here."
Author's Postscript:
The REF... is not impressed with the Cylons.