Hi guys, next chapter, this time a long one.
A/N:
Like I forewarned in the A/N of the first chapter, it finally happened and I made a mistake. Thanks to the rewiever who flagged it for me! In the last chapter, I used the term 'puddlejumper' to describe the Raptor. This was not intended and it has no deeper meaning for the story. I've simply searched for something to compare the design of the Colonial aircrafts with the ones we know from the Stargate universe and I simply forgot, that the term 'puddlejumper' was introduced in the Atlantis Spin-off through Sheppard. So, because neither Daniel nor Sam have been with the Atlantis Expedition, they couldn't have known about the term puddlejumper. Like I said, it was just a mistake of mine and no secret/hidden hint, so there is no need to speculate about it.
For those who saw the Battlestar Galactica series to the bitter end, (the finale was disappointing if you ask me, just like the LOST finale) I want to note that my story covered up what happens in the Pilot/mini-series. I plan to continue the story and write about what happens in the single seasons. Kinda like a rewrite of Battlestar Galactica with our heroes of Stargate as leading characters. I don't know exactly how it will all play out, but I'm already pretty sure that there will be changes in the plot. So I just want to point out, that I don't plan to chose a similar end like the authors of Battlestar Galactica did.
In that regard, maybe you already suspect something like this, I want to say that there will be absolutely no time travel. No one traveled through time, not even by accident and somehow miraculously forgetting about it. There are different reasons why Sam, Daniel and Colonial Jack meet in the Battlestar Galactica universe. But those will be revealed much, much, much later and not in this story.
About all the other questions or speculations you might have about the content of this story, those are intended. If you feel a little bit confused, because what seemed to have happened to Daniel and Sam doesn't make sense to you, you're supposed to feel that way. Why? Because Sam and Daniel also don't understand what happened to them. They're confused, tired, they don't know where they are or how they got there. In addition, they face potential execution as terrorists and don't have a clue how they could refute the accusations. Plus, they come to realize that their friends at the SGC may not come to help this time, or if they do, it might be too late for them.
So, I guess these are pretty good reasons to feel confused. On top of that, they'll have to face another big threat in this chapter. Combining all those reasons, they simply have no time to really think about what happened to them because they're busy trying to stay alive. For them, there is no other choice as to keep going on and hoping to catch a break sometime soon.
That being said, I hope that you'll like this chapter, that you review if you do and most of all, that you still like this story despite all those confusing questions.
Have a nice weekend everyone!
Chapter 6: Caprica is burning
He looked good, she decided after a thorough survey. Of course, he'd always looked good for her. Even when the grey hair slowly but surely turned white and he put on a few more pounds due to his desk job. But she was somewhat biased concerning his looks. She would've probably still found him attractive even with a curly tail.
But this O'Neill, wow, looked really good. Much younger that the version in her reality. She estimated his age at 40, maybe even younger. No strands of grey in his hair, instead, his thick dark brown hair was cut short in a military style. And he looked healthy. No trace of painfully joints or bad knees when he'd jumped down from the Raptor. His body was fit and toned, possibly more muscled that the Colonel and later General. But with the baggy flying suit, it was hard to tell. Also, no deep wrinkles and no scar above the eye. Although that was almost a disappointment, albeit a small one, considering that this was the wrong time, wrong place and certainly wrong universe to contemplate his looks. But she'd always loved the scar. It gave him a dangerous and at the same time roguish appeal. A combination that had always drawn her to him.
He looked good enough to eat and Sam had to admit, that it distracted her. Daniel of course, had other problems. He wondered less about this O'Neill's obvious youth, it was their overall situation that concerned him.
"Different reality?" he whispered, as not to be overheard by the pilot.
"I'd say so. The evidence is fairly clear, right?"
Daniel nodded thoughtfully. The existence of a Jack O'Neill eliminated every other assumption. Yet, the question why they clearly weren't on Earth remained unresolved. During their previous trips and encounters with other realities, the location had always been their own planet. But actually, they knew far too little about this phenomenon to be able to say with certainty that appearing on your own planet was the general rule. Besides, they had more pressing problems.
For example, how they could avoid being executed as terrorists. Daniel knew that their basis for negotiation was very bad. They had no means to prove their innocence. The only possibility that remained, was hoping for some sudden development working in their favor. Or they could try to talk to this O'Neill, maybe even convince him of their trustworthiness. But Daniel felt that this would be very difficult. The pilot had yet to acknowledge their presence in his aircraft.
They had no ideal how much time was left before Jack delivered them to the Astral Queen, whatever that was. Possible, that they wouldn't get a chance to break his disdain for them.
"What do you think of him?" he wanted to know about Sam's option of the Jack doppelganger. Not just what she said, but also what she wouldn't say, so he watched her closely. It had not escaped him, how she stared at the other man. If he didn't knew that Sam was a model of professionalism, he would say that she watched this O'Neill with blatant interest. Like a woman sizing a man up, as Cassie would probably say now. It was no secret to him that Sam and Jack had always harbored strong feelings for each other, even though they didn't really understand the intensity of said feelings themselves. Still, there had been something between them with great potential. But unfortunately, they'd never been given the chance to explore what was smoldering between them.
He had also noticed how hard it was for Sam to get over Jack's death. Everyone of his friends and colleagues had mourned the loss deeply, after all he'd been a large and important part of their lives. Daniel regretted that Jack had never realized how important he was, almost essential. Not just for the Stargate progamm itself, more so for the people he worked with. He'd been their tower of strength, nothing less. And it had hit Sam particularly hard. She had not only mourned the man himself, but also what could have been, if they'd just been a little more courageous. Since that terrible day, she wasn't the same anymore. Her work was still exemplary, but somehow, it was as if all passion had left her. Her joy, fun and curiosity was lost and those last weeks, Daniel gained the impression that she was quietly saying goodbye to the SGC.
When the next blow hit her with loosing her leading position in Atlantis to Weir before she'd been sitting even a minute in the boss's chair, it seemed like she'd finally given up. But right now, the way she looked at this Jack, Daniel thought he recognized something familiar in her clever eyes. Her usual inexhaustible thirst for knowledge, maybe. It felt strangely good to this Jack again, even if he was aware that this was not their Jack. He just hoped that Sam would not let her feelings distract her. They needed her sharp mind.
Sam coked her head to the side before she answered him with a whisper. "It's Jack." She finally said and Jackson could not help but shoot her a puzzled look. It was rare to hear her call him by his first name. Besides, a somewhat more detailed answer would have been nice. But it seemed that for now, he had to work with her minimalistic words.
"We need to keep in mind that we don't know him. Not really. He's not our Jack, Sam. We don't know if we can trust him." He tried to point out, but she was not deterred.
"We can trust him." Daniel sighed, she was so stubborn sometimes.
"How can you know?" He asked, raising his cuffed hands and stopping her from speaking as she opened her mouth to reply. "I know, I know. Because he's Jack, right?"
"Think positive, Daniel." She recommended to him and he rolled his eyes.
"Yeah. Like I have another choice."
She gave him a look as if she wanted to prove something to him, then turned her head towards the cockpit.
This time, however, her attention wasn't on the pilot, but at what was outside the Raptor. Space. She had been right with her assumption. The Raptor was a spaceship. It resembled a more efficient version of the Apache, but flew just as quietly and elegantly as a puddlejumper. It was operated with some kind of touchscreen and it seemed that it was currently on autopilot, because O'Neill was leaning back in his seat. Only now and then did he adjust the course.
The radar right in front of them was out, but the screen next to the seats showed star systems that she didn't recognize. She searched the interior for something else that looked familiar to her. The similarity with recon aircrafts in their own universe was unmistakable. However, she saw no evidence of alien technology. Their own spaceships, the Daedalus for example, was clearly influenced by Asgard, the Ancients or even Goua'uld technology.
With this Raptor, she couldn't detect any foreign influence in technique or design. This realization made her heart beat with excitement, because it could only mean that this people had developed the technology to travel professionally in space all alone. Without the help of foreign species or learning from a far more advanced civilization. This people had managed what would be impossible for many more years in their own universe. They had populated space. It was fascinating and admirable, all those new possibilities. Sam caught herself hoping for something to happen that would give her the opportunity to work with this technique. But that seemed to be wishful thinking. Their destination was a court hearing, not a lab or workshop.
They needed help, desperately. And who was more predestined to be their ally than a Jack O'Neill? She cleared her throat. Moment of truth. Now, it would turn out how many similarities really were between this and their O'Neill.
"Excuse me, Major O'Neill?" Sam began cautiously. She had decided to address him as Major and to call him that in her thoughts. It was dangerous and damn tempting to confuse him with the General. The different rank was her line between this pilot and the man from her memories.
The pilot didn't respond verbally, but he cocked his head to the side. If this was a silent call to ask her question, she couldn't know. But she tried anyway.
"How much farther is it?"
It was an innocuous question and above all one that sounded plausible enough and didn't betray how little they knew about this universe. After all, they wanted to gain his trust, not make him believe that they were crazy.
"'Bout half a centar." His voice was neutral and expressionless. Sam and Daniel didn't understand. What the hell was a centar? A unit of time, most likely. But precisely? One minute, hour, even a day? So much for trying to appear normal and convincing him of their innocence. They couldn't even read the clock.
"You're taking us to the Astral Queen, right?" she tried again. The first blatant similarity with their O'Neill manifested itself in this weird conversation. It was damn hard to get more than a few words out of a O'Neill if he didn't want to. He was the master of taciturnity, apparently in every universe.
"Yep."
Beside her, Daniel exhaled a tense breath. "Would've been too good to be true." He muttered, but didn't interfere with her.
"What kind of ship is it?" She asked and this time received a clear response. The pilot turned to them. Suspicion flashed in his eyes. "Funny that you have to ask. A lot of your buddies are already there. You can celebrate reunion." He growled and Carter recognized the contempt in his words. It was as if a stone sat on her lungs as she tried to keep breathing. She could never get used to Jack O'Neill's disregard, even if this was not the same man.
"We're not terrorists." She repeated stubbornly, because she hated the thought that he believed they were.
He grunted dismissively. "Yeah, sure. Whatever."
"You've dealt with terrorists before? Do we look like we would blow up a museum?" she renewed her attempt to engage him in a conversation. They had to get him to deal with them. But he didn't make it easy.
"You guys never look like you would. It's you tactic. Always appearing nice and unimposing."
"Will you at least look us in the eyes while you prejudge us!" she demanded, letting her words sound like a challenge. If she knew just one thing about Jack O'Neill, it was the fact that he never recoiled from a confrontation. And he had enough respect even for his enemies, as not to deny them such a simple gesture.
Her demand was successful. He hammered a few commands at the touchscreen and then spun around in his chair. Anger flashed briefly in his dark eyes. Carter couldn't help herself but suspect, that there was more behind his hatred for terrorists than the mere contempt for their attacks.
"I don't give a frak and I don't care what you tell me. If you are innocent, you can prove it at your hearing and if not…well, then you get what you deserve. A free flight into space."
Daniel sighed heavily. What a great prospect. Execution by suffocation in space. That was the last straw in his already well-filled list of curiosities. He hoped that it was not too late to dodge this. Holding his breath wasn't is strong suit.
"And now, I don't want to hear anymore of your crap. We're almost there anyway."
"Please Major, you have to believe us." Sam plead again, but fell on deaf ears as he shook his head and was about to turn away from them.
"Sir!" she fell back into her old routine, calling him by his honorific and managing to finally reach him. Whether he was just surprised by her exclamation, or whether it was the familiarity with which she said it, it definitely provoked a reaction out of him. A hint of honest regret crossed his face and he opened his mouth to say something, at the same time frowning and wondering why he suddenly felt the need to talk to these people.
The moment was destroyed when the console beeped loudly and changed the display. Instead of an unknown star system, it now showed the outline of some other ship.
O'Neill started out of the glass cockpit and muttered with a tang of regret in his voice, "Sorry. We're here."
Daniel hung his head. They tried, but there hadn't been enough time. Maybe it would have worked if there was some kind of invisible connection between them, a bond that stretched between life and death and could surmount time and space. But such strong bonds of friendship existed only in science fiction and as his once best friend had once said, science fiction was just that, fiction.
The ship that hovered in front of them would certainly not win any beauty contests. It was big, bigger than some of the spaceships they'd encountered during their travels through the Stargate. But also a lot uglier. The top resembled a circular construction which looked like a giant saucer. The middle section was formed like an elongated cigar and the rear consisted of two bulky engines that shone bluish. The outer shell was a dirty white with a red lettering. It was the Astral Queen. All in all, this vessel was exactly like one would imagine a prisoner transporter. A flying space jail that housed individuals which had been given up by the society. Daniel had never seen something that was a more appropriate implementation of the old saying 'out of sight, out of mind'. He was terrified by the prospect of spending the last hours of his life there. Far away from the Stargate and their way home. Who could guarantee them, if there was help on the way, that their friends would find them soon enough?
On the control, O'Neill made preparations for landing or docking. Whatever was possible with this Raptor. They felt the ship slowing down.
"This is Galactica Raptor 13-2. I've got two prisoners for transport to Lantis. Asking for permission to dock."
The three people onboard the Raptor waited for different reasons for the answer. O'Neill was in a hurry to deliver his prisoners and hopefully getting rid this bad conscience that was burgeoning in him since the woman had called him Sir. Sam and Daniel saw the impending transfer to the Astral Queen as their casket nail. The moment you disappeared into the system, it was almost impossible to get out gain. It was like that everywhere.
But nothing happened. No one responded. The Major tried again. In vain. Then suddenly, the display started blinking and announced a FTL warning. The two cuffed friends had no idea what that meant, but understood intuitively that it wasn't good.
"What the frak!" muttered O'Neill and his fingers darted across the display. Immediately, the Raptor accelerated again, but this time backwards.
"Crazy idiots." Groused the Major as the Raptor gained pace.
"What's going on?" Sam wanted to know, but received no answer.
O'Neill stared dumbfounded at his data. The alarm was getting louder and the blinking faster.
"Down, get down. Cover your eyes." He called to them suddenly and threw himself on the floor in front of them. Sam and Daniel followed his instruction and folded arms and hand protectively in front of their eyes. They had no clue what was happening and what danger loomed over them.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, a loud bang. Like a tremendous whiplash. A blazing light flooded the cockpit. An electromagnetic lightning, recognized Sam. The Raptor was hit by something, a shock wave maybe, accelerated and turned to the side. They lost their footing and their bodies were pressed against the wall. Around them, technical equipment crackled and send out sparks.
"Whew!" panted Daniel while he had the feeling that his inner organs were compressed. He couldn't breath, his lungs protesting under the pressure. Then it was over again. The Raptor slowed down as sudden as it had accelerated, until their ship hovered completely still in space.
"Oy!" uttered O'Neill and scrambled to his feet. His first glance was at his human cargo, but when they moved, he turned immediately to his displays.
Sam and Daniel tried to get up, as much as they could with the cuffs, and stared out of the cockpit. The ship, the Astral Queen, was gone. Or had they just changed their position? And what about the shock wave? Had the ship exploded?
"Where is it?" Sam asked and voiced the question that was going through all of their heads.
"How the hell should I know? They just jumped, those bastards! If I get my hands on them…" he growled to no one specific.
O'Neill tapped on the screen and put on something that looked like a speaker phone.
"Krypter, krypter, krypter. This is Galactica Raptor 13-2, can anyone hear me?"
Daniel didn't know the exact meaning of the word krypter, but assumed that it was comparable to their SOS. Jack pounded his fists in frustration at the console, when there was no answer to his emergency call.
"Frak!" he swore.
It this wouldn't be such an awkward situation, it would offer an excellent opportunity to study the everyday use of a new language in an authentic situation. The linguist in Daniel was excited, he was learning new words and new meanings for words he already knew. Unfortunately, the rest of him, the man who didn't want to die out here or in a cell, couldn't enjoy it. Something was wrong here, he could feel it. After all, Sam and he were the only two remaining members of the original SG-1 and if there was potential for trouble, SG-1 found it with magical accuracy.
"Wireless is dead, engines too." mumbled Major O'Neill to himself, but still loud enough for them to hear. Whether he was so sunken in his soliloquy that he didn't recognize that he was talking out loud or if it was a nice gesture, so his prisoners understood what was going on, was not clearly interpretable. He knelt on the floor in front of the control panels and detached a metallic cover below the main display. A ton of different cables, plugs and connectors fell out. O'Neill stuck his head into the insides of the console for a moment. They could hear a muffled and rather sarcastic "Oh great!" when he emerged again. Beside Daniel, Sam leaned forward to get a better view of the cable clutter. The archaeologist shook his head. It was always the same with her. No matter how dangerous the situation, as soon as Sam ran into a technical problem, there was not much to do with her until she solved it. She was like a pit bull in such matters.
"What happened?" she asked and Jackson was amazed when O'Neill actually answered. And not just that, he even talked to her, like in a real conversation. It was a wonder, compared to his previous dislike towards them.
"Overvoltage. We got hit by the Astral Queen's FTL wave."
"No surge protector?" Sam asked, although she didn't know what a FTL exactly was, but instinctively concluding that it had to be some kind of engine.
Jack sighed. "Not in this old clunker."
On all fours, he crawled to the other control console and opened a small hatch, pulling out a multifunctional tool.
"What now?" Daniel chimed in.
O'Neill shrugged casually. "I'll fix it."
"You? Fix it?!" the linguist blurted out in disbelief. He could count the occasions on one hand when Jack O'Neill had offered to repair something. It was not that he hadn't possessed the skill to repair equipment. He just hadn't liked this, in his eyes, annoying tinkering and had passed it on to Carter or another technician regularly. The O'Neill in this universe didn't know anything about his doppelganger's distaste and therefore took Daniels question as a doubt about his technical skills. To be honest, he looked a little bit pissed.
He sniffed indignantly and looked around ostentatiously in the small Raptor.
"You see someone else? Do me a favor, try not to panic."
It registered with Daniel that he had insulted the other man when Sam elbowed him in the ribs. He yammered quietly, rubbing his aching torso and giving her a reproachful look. Okay, his remark might have been a little thoughtless. But that was no reason to be rude. Sam saw that differently and chided him with harsh head shaking. Because he had a diplomatic nature, he relented and lifted his shoulders apologetically.
"You need help?" Sam addressed their pilot after her silent communication with Daniel. His whole upper body had now vanished in the innards of the console. Still, his vigorous "No!" rang out loud and clear.
It was followed by a crackling, like a electrical discharge, and Jack began to curse in words that they had never head before, but still sounded very rich in detail.
"Godsdamn it, this is really frakked up! Go to the fleet, they said. See the Twelve Worlds, they said. Be the ladies man, they said. Get frakkin' stranded in the space with just a felgercrapping screwdriver, they didn't utter a mong-raking word about. Damned galmongs."
Daniel raised his eyebrows and Sam couldn't suppress a knowing grin. Some things never changed, even in other universes. Wherever they were, a Jack O'Neill could always find a reason to swear and rant.
"Are you sure you don't need help?" Sam tried again. She had a pretty good idea what could have triggered the curses. O'Neill paused before he clumsily climbed out again. He knocked his head at a sharp edge when he tried to sit up.
"Frrrakkk it!" he rubbed the sore spot and fired resentful glances in Sam's direction. Apparently, he blamed her for his collision.
"Listen, Madame helpful, I don't need anyone's help. Especially not yours. Just stay where you are and don't move. You're still my prisoners, got it?"
His rebuke would have sounded much more serious, if he wouldn't have sucked his left index finger. Again, Carter grinned as her suspicion was confirmed. The good Major had probably gotten a weak electric shot with his tinkering. Serves him right, she thought.
"Now, I don't want to hear anything else from you. The plan's still to deliver you to the Astral Queen. Where ever they frakking are." He explained to them and crept back into the innards of the control console. Because he planned to remain stubborn, Carter and Jackson had no other choice but to wait. They listened to his muffled murmur and tried to understand how far advanced his repairs were. They heard a triumphant "Aha!" and soon after "There you are, you frakking bugger!"
The instruments and displays flickered briefly and started working again.
"Hey, can you take a look at the DRADIS and tell me if it works?" called O'Neill.
"Uhm…" Carter and Daniel looked up and searched the Raptor's interior. What was a DRADIS?
"How does it look?" she finally asked.
"It's the console beside you. Push the yellow button."
A little awkward, because still chained, Sam got to her feet and looked for the button. The strange layout of the control panel made it hard for her to understand the handling, but eventually she discovered the switch. She pressed the button and waited. The display remained black.
"And? Works?"
"No, sorry." She retorted and waited for the next instruction.
What she didn't realize at this time, was that her observation wasn't quite right. Something was happening, something big, just not on the DRADIS display. She sighed and let her eyes wander. From Daniel, leaning back with his eyes closed. Over damaged displays, the cockpit and trough the safety glass, seeing the dark and cold space outside the Raptor. It looked peaceful and…but wait, something was indeed happening out there.
Amidst the endless black, she saw little flashes of light. There were just a few of them, then more and more. The number of points of light multiplied rapidly, emerging in waves. Always a few at a time until there were several dozen of them accumulated in the small field of vision through the cockpit. She knew not much about this universe, but she knew enough about life in general to know that this definitely wasn't normal.
"Major!" She exclaimed, her alerted voice waking Daniel from his dozing. He startled and looked for the reason of the trouble. When he found it, his eyes got big.
"Jack!" He insisted, momentarily forgetting that he wasn't on first name basis with this O'Neill.
"What now?" Complained the tall pilot and emerged from inside the console again. He looked at his human cargo, requesting an answer to his question. Carter didn't really know how to describe it, so she just pointed a finger at the threatening lights. Confused, O'Neill turned his head. The breath caught in his throat as he realized what was disturbing the two maybe terrorists. And they had every reason to worry. He immediately jumped to his feed and lunged for the DRADIS. He hammered on the yellow button and this time, the display awoke to life. Together, the three of them stared at the flickering screen. At first, they saw nothing but then, the display cleared.
Various blue lines outlined their quadrant. A big green dot blinked and marked their own position. Apparently they were alone in this part of the universe, according to the DRADIS. Sam suspected, that it was the equivalent of a radar. But the peace was very short lived. Red dots appeared suddenly on the screen and joined their green one. Some were smaller, some were much bigger than the one that resembled the Raptor. A few of them at first, then more and more. Dozens, hundreds…no thousands. So many, that the screen was totally overloaded and it was impossible to see something else than red dots.
"Frak!" O'Neill swore again. But this time, he didn't sound sarcastic, amused or cynical. Instead, his exclamation indicated trouble. In the dim lightning of the Raptor, he looked pale and his eyes pitch black.
A second look at the display revealed why the pilot looked as if he'd seen a ghost. Every single red dot had a little labeling. And right now, an uncountable amount of this word littered the screen. Just one word, but big consequences. Enemy. They obviously had enemy contact.
"Who are they?" asked Daniel, his irritated look altering between the DRADIS and the cockpit's glass windows.
The Major said just one word, but he spoke it with so much vehemence in his voice, that Sam and Daniel knew they were in mortal danger.
"Cylons."
Neither Sam nor Daniel had heard something about Cylons. But that was not necessary. They were the enemy, they were many and they came closer. The previously innocent looking light flashes had transformed into grey spaceships of various shape and size. They were everywhere. Like locusts.
The biggest of them looked like two giant throwing stars joined to each other. Between the two parts of the ship a blue light pulsated, looking menacing and cold. Suddenly, smaller flying objects shot out of the big one. Like bees simultaneously leaving their hive and whizzing out of unseen hatchways.
They circled their motherships in wild, but controlled tracks. Noticeably fast and maneuverable, the design was completely alien. It was made of shiny metal, like chromium, and shaped like a pair of giant, curved wings. The shape resembled a boomerang, but sharper curved. In the middle of the sickle-looking ship sat a rounded top. Almost like a face with a pointed chin and mouth that mockingly barred it's teeth. Above that, a longish slot resembled a monobrow. It looked barbaric somehow. But that was a silly thought – right?- why would a spaceship need a face?
Major O'Neill remained speechless and stared out of the cockpit. All three of them visibly recoiled when suddenly one of the smaller vessels, the one with the teeth, appeared. It hovered completely still in front of the Raptor.
"Who the hell are you?" breathed O'Neill and it seemed that he too, saw this for the first time.
"What's that?" asked Daniel.
"No idea." Said Jack as he stood closely behind the window, coking his head to the side in interest.
Only now did Sam notice something very unusual about the foreign space ship. There was no visible cockpit or observation window. She couldn't detect any kind of window on those ships. However the alien pilots navigated in this thing, it wasn't with the help of visual contact.
The comparison between the ship and a grotesque human face didn't seem so far fetched now. The vessel didn't react visibly, but it felt like they were being watched, examined and assessed. Bile rose in her throat and she suppressed the feeling of being at mercy.
Suddenly, the thing began to move. A glowing red light flickered through the monobrow slot. From left to right and back again. Back and forth, back and forth, faster and faster bordering to hectic.
O'Neills eyes widened in apprehension.
"Oh, oh." He breathed and he was right.
Two hatches under the head-like structure opened slowly and two tubes extended.
It's an firing mechanism. It's going to attack us. The two thoughts shut through Sam's head like lightings and she was painfully aware how helpless they were in this little nutshell. Not only Daniel and she, but Major O'Neill too. Although she didn't know anything about the Raptor's armament, she'd flown enough recon aircrafts herself to know that these things were poorly armed. And even if it was different here, they were still hopefully outnumbered. A thousand to one, at least. And that was just the part of the alien fleet they could see through the cockpit window. What numbers lurked behind, above, below and next to them was an uncertain threat.
But at last, O'Neill knew what to do. He dropped on his knees and blindly fumbled with his right hand in the mass of cables he'd just repaired. When he yanked at something, it turned dark with a blow. All lights in the Raptor extinguished, along with the DRADIS and all other displays.
"Why did you do that?" Inquired Sam and couldn't say why she felt the need to whisper.
O'Neill kept his eyes on the enemy and replied equally quiet.
"I think they can see us." He explained and added as he felt Carter's questioning look in his back,
"Our energy signature. They know we are here because they can see our energy consumption. Like a hound."
It was a perfectly apt description for a bold theory. Would it prove to be true, Carter's guess about the foreign pilot was right too. The Major had shut off all instruments and all systems appeared to be offline. If the foreign ship wouldn't attack them now, it would mean that they indeed didn't work with any kind of visual signals and identification. Instead, solely relying on their instruments and data.
The thing in front of them wasn't still any longer. It swayed back and forth. Disappeared above them and appeared again on their side. I looked as if had lost its track and was now looking for it. O'Neill had been right, just like a hound. The three occupants of the Raptor were hoping fervently, that the search would be unsuccessful.
The red light pulsed two more times, then it went out and the hatches closed around the weapons. Then, finally, the ship turned away and headed back into the formation.
O'Neill, Carter and Jackson breathed relieved. It looked as through they would live a little longer. And also, that the enemy systems were practically blind, if they couldn't find any energy signatures. That could prove to be useful information.
With a fascination bordering on perversion, they observed as the gigantic fleet, like a swarm, began to move perfectly synchronized.
It was a convenient opportunity to escape. But Jack O'Neill would not be Jack O'Neill, even in another universe, if he wouldn't choose the much more difficult path. He looked at his prisoners thoughtfully before he apparently decided that he had to risk it. Trusting them, just a little bit.
"You're not gonna whack me over the head with something as soon as I turn my back on you?" He asked and fumbled for the keys in his left breast pocket.
"Of course not, we're no …" Daniel started and O'Neill finished the thought with a roll of his eyes.
"I know, I know. You're no terrorists. Just making sure you don't forget that you're getting nowhere without me, understood?" He straightened out again that an imprudent attempt to escape would do them no good. Then he threw them the keys to the handcuffs. Cater caught them and looked at him questioningly, not knowing where this sudden trust came from.
"Get off the floor and sit down on the seats. Could get a bit bumpy." It sounded like an order and was all the Major offered as explanation.
As soon as he lost the cuffs, Daniel rubbed the sore skin of his wrists and could not help but smile, when he watched Sam hastening to the cockpit and securing herself the co-pilots seat. But he hadn't planned to quarrel with her for the front row seat. He was completely at peace with the chair at the DRADIS console. There was even a seatbelt, and he made good use of it. When an O'Neill indicated that it might get 'a bit bumpy', it was better to be prepared for a roller coaster ride. He had several years of experience in that field.
"What are we going to do now?" asked Sam and Daniel noticed that she used 'we' instead of 'you'. In her mind, they were already a team again. He didn't know whether this was good or bad. Luckily, the Major must have missed her Freudian slip.
The tall pilot flipped a switch right under the console. A flap opened and a mechanical mini-lift raised a dark red control stick.
"We'll follow them. I want to know what those guys are up to."
"And how do we do that? I mean, without using the drive?" Daniel wanted to know and tugged the belt tighter around his middle.
O'Neill made a circling movement with his hand, indicating at the big fleet of the so called Cylons.
"I'll have to control manually." He explained and went on, when he saw that his passengers couldn't follow his words.
"I guess the Cylons use a drive similar to ours. If that's right, I can use their ion vapors to maneuver."
"Ion vapors?" Sam asked, a little bit puzzled. She had a hunch what he was getting at, but didn't know what a ion vapor was. O'Neill had no problem to help her along, sounding unusually well versed technically.
"Their drives produce ion vapors, a byproduct of the tylium-combustion. The particles have a half life period before they decompose."
Sam showed him with a nod that she could follow his explanation. The two had turned their seats so that they were directly facing each other. Daniel had the feeling that they had completely forgotten about his presence.
"During that time, the particles are in motion. Uhm…" O'Neill was searching for a suitable description. "Like water displacement of a ship. If I can manage to maneuver the Raptor into their fleet, we can drift on their slipstream like a surfboard on a wave."
Sam nodded approvingly. "Sounds like a plan."
Daniel didn't share that confidence. Although he had understood the Major's explanation, it still seemed like a risky plan. In addition, this whole endeavor was based on O'Neill's assumptions.
"Wait a minute, what do you mean 'I guess it's similar'? You don't know for sure?"
The other two turned around synchronously to face him, seemingly amazed that Daniel was still here.
"True, I don't know for fact." Jack stated, scrutinizing the archeologist like he'd just asked a pretty stupid question. "That's probably because we haven't seen a Cylon for 40 years. The Colonial fleet knows next to nothing about their ships and weapons. Everyone knows that."
"Oh…uhm…yes, sure." Daniel began to stammer when he realized that he was on the verge of making himself look suspicious. Sam and he were from another universe, therefore they'd never heard of those Cylons. He couldn't have known that these colonists hadn't seen their enemy for decades. But Major O'Neill didn't know the truth about their origin and after they'd been laughed at two times after they'd talked about Earth and the Stargate, it was questionable whether it was wise to tell this story again. Daniel considered that it might be better to lay low. But if he wasn't more careful with what he said, he'd either blab their secret or make them sound crazy.
"I'm sorry. Of course I know that. I must've hit my head earlier." Offered Daniel and the Major seemed satisfied with his reasoning.
"There's a first aid-kid behind you." He advised with a nod of his head.
"Thank you, but it's not too bad. You better concentrate on your controls. Not that I doubt your abilities…" Daniel was quick to assure when he sensed his next verbal lapse, ", but your plan sounds pretty tricky."
O'Neill grinned confidently. "It is, but I'm also very good."
Still, Daniel wasn't completely convinced. "Still, it doesn't seem like a very good idea."
The archaeologist felt the need to argue about it. He was, after all, the voice of reason.
"It's not." Retorted the pilot, not sharing Daniels worry.
"But we'll do it anyway." Jackson acknowledged his defeat with a sigh.
"Yep. Going right into the lion's den."
Daniel tried a last time and threw Sam a worried look. Surely, she saw how dangerous this was. Flying into the midst of a enemy fleet, without weapons or engines. But Carter didn't react. Rather, she seemed elated with excitement. There was a special light in her eyes, almost like old times.
The next minutes were spent in tense silence. They wanted to give Major O'Neill the quiet he needed to navigate their Raptor into the middle of the swarm of Cylon ships. He was operating without any kind of instruments, only using his eyesight, his feeling of the Raptor and his experience. It was a very, very slow process, but still a steady one. If there was still doubt about whether their enemies used some kind of visual identification, it was cleared up now. The Raptor crept practically right in front of their noses straight into the center of their fleet. Still, no sign that they were aware of their presence.
Daniel could hear his heart beating wildly in his chest, a sharp contrast to the ghostly quiet in the Raptor. Although he couldn't find a better comparison for the enemy fleet than that of a swarm of bees, it felt strangely wrong at the same time. He stared out the cockpit and wiped sweat from his forehead. An important element was missing. Whoever or whatever these Cylons were, they looked so mechanically, almost as if they weren't really alive. Too disciplined and robotic was their behavior. But that was his assessment, he could be wrong just as well.
"Do we have any weapons?" He heard himself asking as he fanned himself some air. Was it just him, or was it hot and stuffy in here? Daniel hoped, that he wouldn't start to develop claustrophobia now. But when he looked out of the cockpit again, he couldn't help but feel like being trapped in a sardine can. They were surrounded by enemy ships. They were everywhere. Left, right, above, under and behind them. Sometimes, there wasn't even a foot between the Raptor and one of the Cylon ships.
"No. I've got two swallows, nothing else."
"Swallows?" Inquired Daniel. Another unfamiliar term.
"Decoy drones." O'Neill clarified and inched the stick a few centimeters forward when suddenly an alien ship appeared beside them , it's slipstream threatening the Raptor to adrift. His corrections were effective and they returned to a seemingly safe distance. You had to give him that, Major O'Neill steered the Raptor like a master. He knew exactly what he was doing.
"Any idea where they want do go?" Sam asked, sitting on the co-pilots seat and staring pensively out of the cockpit window.
"Unfortunately, yes." O'Neill answered and implied further trouble. "They're on their way to Caprica."
Caprica. The planet they'd accidentally stranded on. Sam watched the incredible high number of enemy ships and bit her lip. She had no desire to ask the question on her mind, because she had a fairly accurate idea what the answer would be. But there was no use in hiding form the truth.
"What do they want there?"
"Oh, I guess they're not coming over for coffee and cake." The Major muttered sarcastically. It was a classic O'Neill maneuver. Fighting the impending danger with humor. But his next words were hard and honest and eliminated the last hopes that this could still turn out good.
"They'll attack us." He growled and added "There will be war."
Sam and Daniel held their breaths. Apparently, they'd managed to find themselves in the midst of a violent confrontation between two nations without knowing who was aggressor and who was victim. Their hearts fought against believing that a Jack O'Neill, no matter what universe, could be part of a aggressive civilization that started a war. But truth was, they didn't know this man or his basic convictions. What they knew was, that they relied on him to survive the impending attack.
"Shouldn't we warn someone?" blurted Daniel.
O'Neill shook his head. "There's a heavy monitoring network in Caprica's orbit. Fleet Command should already know that they are coming. I just hope that they're prepared."
Was that doubt? Hopefully not.
"Does that mean that the fleet may be not able to fight off the attack?" Sam concluded.
The Major shrugged his shoulders undecided.
"The current government runs a course of disarmament. Many ships are already scrapped. I'm not sure whether…"
"Look out!" exclaimed Sam suddenly when she registered that the Cylon ships around them had stopped. Jack reacted quickly, pulling the stick backwards. The heck of the ship before them came closer and closer. The last thing they needed now was a collision. Agonizing seconds later, the Raptor finally stopped with just a few inches between them and the Cylon ship.
"That was close." Commented Sam, still sitting on the copilot's seat.
O'Neill answered with a "Whoops" and a wry grin before turning serious again. He moved the stick to the side and the Raptor turned into the same direction. Slowly, the scene in front of the cockpit window changed until they saw what had caused the Cylon's stop.
In front of them loomed a giant planet. Caprica. During their departure, there'd been no chance to see the planet more accurately. It was beautiful and not unlike earth. Caprica was a lush blue-green planet, covered by large oceans and continents and with another small planet orbiting in it's sphere.
Certainly, the Cylons hadn't stopped to admire the planet's beauty. Their abrupt stopping probably had something to do with the other fleet in front of them, hovering between their ships and the planet. That had to be the Colonial Fleet O'Neill had spoken about and to which he apparently belonged.
These ships were similar in size, but the design was completely different. The largest of the ships were elongated and reminded Sam and Daniel of the space ships Earth had build with the help of alien technology. But the vessels in this universe were much bigger, less clunky and more dynamic looking. Like the Cylons, the Colonial Fleet also used small, maneuverable ships. Those looked like arrows, regrouping in front of their mother ships and forming a net.
"The cavalry. Tally-ho, guys." Remarked O'Neill and leaned back in the seat.
Daniel cleared his throat. They could open fire any second.
"Is it clever to stay in the middle of this?" he pointed out because he held no desire to get caught in the crossfire.
"Don't worry, we'll get away as soon as the field loosens." Calmed the tall pilot.
Both fleets faced each other, watching furtively for any kind of action or mistake. But otherwise, nothing happened or moved.
"What are they waiting for?"
"Don't know." Replied Jack curtly. He was cool, but not for much longer.
Suddenly, one of the arrow-like colonial ships swung out. It tipped over to one side, appearing strangely uncontrollable. It collided with it's neighbor and tore this ship into a spin. As if the pilot was drunk. Then a second, a third and fourth ship did the same. More and more ships got into a spin, setting of disorder in the entire fleet. When even one of the big mother ships started to rotate uncoordinated around it's own axis, chaos broke out.
"What are they doing?" O'Neill gasped and leaned forward in his seat. Whatever caused this behavior, it was spreading quickly. More and more ships lost control and left their formation. Soon, the ships that were still able to maneuver were outnumbered.
Like a virus, thought Sam. A virus that jumps from ship to ship, until every single one of them is infected.
"What in the gods are they doing?" repeated O'Neill disbelieving.
From the corner of her eye, she saw his right had darting out and aiming for the switch that turned on the power supply. Before her brain understood what he wanted to do, her body reacted reflexively and put her own hand on his arm and holding him back.
"What the hell…." He looked at her blankly, not understanding her resistance. He tried to shake her hand off, but instead Sam increased her pressure on his arm.
"Let me go." He growled dangerously.
"I can't." Sam answered and risked a glance outside. It got worse. Sam could no longer recognize one colonial ship that was still under the control of it's pilot. The whole fleet was out of control, drifting helplessly and uselessly in space. All of them, but the Cylon ships and- and their Raptor. Suddenly she understood what was going on. Alarmed, she sought O'Neill's eyes and tried to make him understand why it was their death warrant if he fired up the systems again.
"I think it's a virus." She explained and the Major's eyebrows skyrocketed.
"Huh?"
Daniel could only agree with him. He couldn't follow Sam's thought, too.
She pointed out to the paralyzed colonial ships, already more than one step ahead of them with her thinking.
"All ships, but the Cylons and us lost control. Think about it. We're the only colonial ship that's offline. What if the Cylons somehow injected a virus into the fleet's systems? It disables all ships. If you take the systems online, you'll risk that the same will happen to us."
They could watch how O'Neill pondered her words. "All modernized ships are directly interconnected." He mentioned almost casually. Carter nodded in agreement.
"That's it. That's how it spreads. From one ship to the next via network."
Jack thought about this, his eyes sliding to the fleet. He probably knew many of the men and women who now floated defenselessness in space. He ran long fingers through his short hairs in a gesture of helplessness. Their own Raptor was an outdated model and didn't posses the same network connection that the modern vessels. So, even if the blond woman was right and if it was something like a virus, it couldn't get into their systems. Still, too many ifs for his liking. It could be a virus and thus not affecting their Raptor, but it could be something else too.
"You can't help them." Sam implored again.
She was right, he understood. The danger that the same would happen to them was too big. If he was alone, he might try it. But he had a responsibility for the lives of his companions. He had no right to risk their lives and he respected that. Even if that meant watching helplessly how the fleet fought a battle they couldn't win while he was doomed to do nothing.
Jack nodded hesitantly. "I know."
In desperate need for a catalyst for his feelings he jumped out of his seat kicked the wall next to him as hard as he could. Daniel and Sam winced at the sudden emotional outburst.
"Frak! Frak! Frak!" he swore, accompanying each word with another kick. When his first anger subsided, he rubbed his face vigorously trying to regain control over his feelings. With an expression bordering to despair written on his face, he forced himself to look outside. Watching as his friends and collogues spiraled out of control.
"Gods, they're going to be slaughtered." He breathed in resignation.
Daniel shook his head in disbelief. "But…back-up is on the way, right?" He knew nothing about these people and this conflict. But the archeologist refused to believe that it would end like this. However, O'Neill's next words destroyed all potential hope.
"No, no there's not. This is our whole fleet. Every frakking ship is out there."
Sam couldn't sit still any longer. She got up, stood next to Jack, their shoulders almost touching. She longed to do something, anything but having to watch what would surely happen next.
Minutes passed, filled with silence and their heavy breaths.
The first shot caught them all off guard, even though they had been waiting for it. All three flinched as all Cylon ships started to fire at the same time. Like giant machine guns, spurts of automatic gunfire whizzed past and all around them and exploded in a blue-white light when hitting the intended target. Beads of sweat ran down O'Neill's forehead, burning in his eyes.
The Cylon ships had an easy job of it and the Colonial pilots not a chance. They were shot down like flies. Massacred, without a chance to fight back. Sam tried not to imagine how the pilots of the arrow-like jets felt right now. They saw disaster and death coming up on them but could do nothing against it. Soon, the Cylons hat turned the battlefield in front of them into a mere firestorm. Explosions and debris everywhere. Her eyes searched desperately for survivors, but her vision was strangely blurred. Only now did she notice that tears were running down her eyes. She felt terribly useless. All her knowledge, all her experience and yet she was impotent.
Beside her, O'Neill breathed rattling and sank into his seat with an unusual feebleness. He covered his eyes with trembling hands, no longer strong enough to watch as the last of the fleet was extinguished until no one was left. No one but them. They could be very well the only survivors of this battle, but this thought reassured none of them.
With a pained groan, Jack dropped his head on the console in front of him. Carter felt the need to do something, to make it easier for him. But no gesture was big enough to give such consolation. Daniel felt similarly miserable. He'd just witnessed a complete fleet being wiped out. So many lives. Fathers, mothers, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. What a shame. He had to admit, when he'd first started to work with the Air Force, he'd harbored plenty of prejudices. He'd believed that they were all die hard machos with propensity for violence. But over the years, a lot had to do with Jack's example, he'd realized that most of them in no case worshipped violence. Instead, they were willing to do anything to protect an idea that was bigger than themselves. Just like this foreign colonial pilots who were dying in front of him to protect their planet from the hostile fleet. What must they have though when they realized that they would not just die, but that there was nothing they could do to save their home?
A deadly silence dominated inside the Raptor, Jack's tortured breathing the only noise. Sam looked like she didn't know what to do with herself. Searching for supports, she turned to Daniel. Their eyes met, but there was nothing to say. A feeling of absolute gloom settled over them.
Jack lifted his head at the same time as there was a new movement in the cylon fleet. Sam recognized the terror that flared up in his eyes as he looked out the cockpit. The small ships split up in two groups, thus creating a gap for the star-shaped mother ships.
Slowly, they crawled through the gap taking up a position at the top of the enemy fleet. Again, the light began to pulsate. Cold, blue and white light. The last time they'd seen that light, the ships had spat out their smaller, but deadly counterparts.
"Oh no, what now?" exclaimed Daniel, unbuckling his seatbelt and standing between Sam and the Major.
Jack felt sick when he saw round capsules leaving the mother ships. This couldn't be true! This wasn't happening! It had to be a nightmare! Yeah, it had to be. He would just pinch himself and wake up in his small bunk onboard Galactica with Starbuck snoring in her own bed a few feet away.
Cut the crap! You're not sleeping. This is real. Move now or you'll die. Do something, you idiot! – Commented his mind relentlessly and mercilessly.
O'Neill knew what was coming, what was in those capsules. Yet, he didn't want to admit it. He felt hot and dizziness rising in him. Breathing was almost too difficult. He didn't really know why exactly the next words left his mouth. Perhaps, because he felt too overwhelmed to say something with more substance.
"Your name is Jackson, right?" he asked the man standing behind him and could fell his puzzled glance on his neck.
"Um…yes. Dr. Daniel Jackson, why?"
Jack's eyes remained stubbornly fixed on the six capsules that slowly floated towards Caprica.
"Well Danny, now it's time to panic."
Because he didn't know what to answer, Daniel said nothing. Silently watching as small hatches on the capsules opened. Six….missiles….each left the capsule. Momentum accelerated the missiles until they rushed in a breakneck speed towards the planet's surface.
"What are those things?" Sam whispered, her voice scratchy, strained.
O'Neill held himself unusually listlessly in the chair. But his eyes spoke a different language. They were empty, lacking any emotion but bare horror. She'd never seen a similar expression on their O'Neill. Not even in those rare moments when he'd shared a memory of his son with them. This O'Neill opened his mouth to say something, but his voice failed him. He had to try a couple of times before he could answer. Meanwhile, the missiles flew relentlessly towards the planet. As fast as they were, there was not much time left before the impact.
"Those are…" it was physically difficult to say it. "Those are nuclear bombs."
When his mind connected the Major's words with the appropriate consequences, Daniel grabbed the backrest to steady himself. Sam put trembling hands on her face and watched fearfully as disaster took it's course.
It took exactly 13 seconds before the bombs hit Caprica's surface. The planet would never be the same, it's flora and fauna would never recover from that massive attack. Of course, they couldn't hear the detonations, but they saw them. That was bad enough. 36 explosions. From the size of it, 36 times Hiroshima. The warheads burst in bright, blinding light flashes. As the typical mushroom-shaped clouds build up and crawled over the surface, the nuclear contaminated particles transformed the previously inviting looking planet into a place of complete desolation. Caprica was literally burning.
Sam and Daniel caught their breath, trying to wrap their minds around what they witnessed. They had encountered many violent and brutal races on their travels, had experienced a lot of blind destructiveness. But never such a raw madness. These Cylons had to be insane and eaten up with hatred and anger. What could the people of Caprica have done to provoke their own genocide? Carter was no specialist for radioactive material, but she understood that these bombs would wipe out the majority, if not the whole population. The planet would be uninhabitable for thousands of years. How meaningless! There was literally nothing left.
"How many?" she heard herself ask, although she didn't want to know it. No matter what the answer would be, every victim was one too many. But the exact number left her speechless.
"Five billions."
So many lives, almost like Earth. A whole Earth. The idea that this could happen to their home almost hurt physically. But that was not all. Jack's next words sounded like a list of apocalypse. Each number was like a punch in the stomach.
"Five billion on Caprica. 1.5 on Aerilon. 6.7 on Canceron. 2.8 on Gemenon. 2.6 on Leonis."
Sam grimaced. Leonis. This was the planned where they were supposed to have their trial at. If they hadn't stranded with this universe's O'Neill in space, they would probably burn in a nuclear fire. Her skin tingled while she thought about that.
"And 7.4 billion together on Virgon, Tauron, Scorpia, Sagittaron, Picon and Aquaria."
Understanding came slowly. This civilization consisted of not only one, but 12 planets. 12 times complete annihilation. Unbelievable. Perverse.
Daniel shook his head in disbelief. "That can't be true! I mean, we don't know whether…"
"Yes, we know!" interrupted O'Neill harshly, breathing hard and looking like he desperately wanted to hit something again as he pointed at the mess of burning wrecks in space.
"That was our entire fleet. The other colonies are completely defenseless. Those bastards won't stop until they killed all of us."
God! What must have happened between two nations that a conflict ended it such horror?!
Sam didn't notice how her left hand wandered to O'Neill's right shoulder. She ran her fingers over the smooth material of his aviator suit, then squeezed his shoulder. Tried to give him the same amount of strength that she herself drew from the physical contact. Even if she didn't know him and he didn't seem to care.
The fleeting contact between them, however, seemed to free him from his physical and emotional numbness. He straightened up and rubbed the reddened skin around his eyes with the heels of his hands. When he bent down this time to take the systems of the Raptor online again, no one bothered him.
"What are we going to do now?" rasped Daniel when he realized once again, that one blow had been enough to wipe out an entire civilization. And that was not all. The Stargate was still on Caprica. Their only way home? Was it destroyed? They'd always assumed that the Gate could not be blown up. But then again, they'd never witnessed a Gate being exposed to such a heavy blasting charge or massive radioactive contamination. It was quite possible that their only way back home was burning down there.
"We jump to the alpha six quadrant." The Major answered and sounded more like the Jack O'Neill they knew. Calm, composed and professional.
"Why? What's there?"
"The Galactica."
Daniel ran a hand over his disgruntled face. He was so tired of asking questions, of not knowing what certain words meant.
"What' a Galactica?"
O'Neill had finished the repairs, the displays and devices coming back to life. He tapped on some icons on the control panel and the Raptor accelerated. Taking them away from the blazing hell on the planet below them. For a brief moment, they were afraid that the Cylons would now notice their energy consumption and track them. But the aggressors paid no attention to a single Raptor. Probably because they were too busy celebrating this victory, Sam mused and felt scorn rising in her like bile. She swallowed it down. Now was not the time. It was important that she kept a cool head.
"The Galactica is the only Battlestar that' left. At least, I hope so." Jack said, a false sounding laugh escaping him. How ironic. Just a few hours ago, they'd decommissioned Galactica in favor of the modern Battlestars, and now? Not it was quite possible that this outdated, hulking, slow and very much in need of a renovation ship was their last hope for survival. If it was still there, of course.
The visual display changed the color from red to green as the FTL drive charged up.
"Sit down." He ordered and waited until Dr. Jackson and the woman beside him had both buckled up. Then, he pulled the release switch. That familiar feeling of being compressed filled him and for a moment, he imagined what would happen if something went wrong. If he'd made just a minimal error in the repair of in the calculation of their target coordinate. The FTL drive would overheat and then explode. He almost wished for that to happen. But even before his desire could materialize in his mind, the feeling of tightness passed again.
The jump had been successful. No mistake, no explosion and no death. Whether he liked it or not, he had to continue with his life some more. If this was good or bad, well, he'd answer this question at a different time.
PS: I introduced a lot of different ships in this chapter and I realize, that I didn't do a really good job of describing them. I really tried, but this is still the best I came up with. Those who already know Battlestar Galactica should have recognized the ships I described. (At least I hope so) Those who don't know Battlestar Galactica that well could look up the mentioned ships in the internet. And I kind would recommend it, because those ships are much cooler than I could describe them.
If you want to look them up, you are searching for:
- Cylon basestar described as Cylon motherships
- Cylon raider described as small Cylon ships with the face-like construction
- Colonial Raptor
- Colonial Battlestar described as Colonial motherships
and
- Colonial Viper described das arrow-like ships