It ain't mine, because if it were we'd see more 302's doing hyperspace jumps!
Not intended for profit. If you sue me, all you'll get is the laptop I typed this out on, and my collection of questionable err... material.
Thank you for all the nice feedback. All your comments make me feel good. Don't you worry I do have a clear idea of how this all will end.
Saul Tigh watched the Old Man chew out Athena and not for the first time cursed himself for letting the shooting happen on his watch. Visions! Zeus almighty! If it wasn't the President on her dying leader act it was some other nutjob like Starbuck following visions. What was this fleet coming to? It was frakkin' insane! Granted Starbuck's sanity had never been all there, but Athena? A Cylon?
Morosely he wondered what that made him. A Cylon with an addiction to alcohol. Great, just frakking great.
He finished his internal monologue just in time to see Athena escorted off to the brig.
"Any word on the Cylon?" He asked his old friend.
"Tau'ri say she's still under surgery. Too early to tell if she'll live. They don't blame us. They say these are the types of incidents the protocols were designed to minimize if not completely avoid."
"What do the Cylons say?" Saul wondered aloud.
"Didn't say anything. They just asked for the details of what happened and then went ahead and elected a replacement. A Six by the name of Sonja."
"Gods damn it Bill, you should have seen it. Just disappeared in a flash of blue light. An emergency something they called it. Directly to sickbay."
"Point to point matter transportation." Bill mused. "They finally admitted to having the technology. All it took was a real emergency. Sounds like something out of a frakking science fiction movie if you ask me."
"Amen to that. Now that the cat's out of the bag, what's to stop them from using it to infiltrate the fleet?"
"To be honest, I'm not sure they haven't infiltrated the fleet before now." The admiral shook his head. "It's what I would've done. And nothing we can do about it if they did."
"Frak, Bill. We'd be helpless against it." He paused then tried another tack. "Ever want to try it for yourself?"
"Having yourself disassembled into your component atoms and then sent to another place does not sound particularly appealing to me." Bill grimaced. "Still, the Tau'ri seem to consider it reliable enough."
Saul could only grunt in agreement.
"Now, the Cylons have asked to postpone the joint exercise for a few hours. And one other thing, Saul." The admiral took a deep breath before continuing. "No more unsupervised visits with the prisoner." His voice hardened. "I don't know what you get up to in there and frankly I don't care. As long as it stops. The last thing we need is another embarrassment."
Saul just nodded, a shocked expression on his face. Whether it was that his friend and commander knew, or that he had chosen to do something about it, Bill did not particularly care. He just wanted it stopped.
Awareness came slowly to the young man. He was on a bed. It was thicker, firmer and softer than his old bunk aboard the Old Girl. That pretty much meant it was superior in every way. He was in a reclining position, his upper body rising at an angle from his legs. That was a feature he normally ascribed to hospital beds. The smell, a sterile, antiseptic scent seemed to confirm this.
There was a stiff board under his right arm and a needle in his wrist. His leg was a bit numb, but he was pretty sure it was also elevated.
He opened his eyes. That shade of gray isn't used on battlestars. Or any colonial ship for that matter.
"You're awake."
The voice made him start. He craned his neck to find the source. An Eight. A skinjob! "Where the frak am I? Who the frak are you?"
"Sssshhh," the Eight spoke soothingly, then placed an arm on his chest. "Do not be alarmed. You're safe." She then proceeded to push a button on his bed.
Too weak to fight back, all Felix could do was look at her until whoever the button summoned arrived.
"Aahh you're awake." The new arrival spoke in a congenial tone. He was an older man, dressed in some type of blue uniform with a white doctor's coat over it. His two companions, a man and a woman were dressed identically in blue scrubs. He also belatedly realized that there had always been two black clad men in the room with the Eight and him. Those two gave off the unmistakable air of security personnel. The fact that none of the five were any of the seven known Cylon models was a great relief to Felix. They did not look like any Colonials he knew either, but the disparate faces at least did much to put him in a listening mood.
"I am Doctor McBride, and these are James and Marie." He indicated the two flanking him before continuing. "You are aboard the Hammond. You're safe with us here. As for where we are, perhaps it would be better if we show you." He nodded towards a panel on the wall, silently asking his permission.
Felix nodded, intrigued despite himself. The fleet did not have a ship named Hammond. The doctor walked over to it to push a button and the wall slid upwards to reveal a huge window. It showed a view of open space. Off in the distance was the Galactica, with the civilian fleet arrayed around it. The sight brought tears to his eyes.
"You were shot. We don't know the full details, but your comrades asked for our help." The doctor started explaining once Felix had visibly calmed down. "We managed to save your leg, though it will be a while before you're able to walk normally. This young lady has pretty much stayed by your side since she got here."
"It's me, Amanda." The eight introduced herself. "We knew each other on New Caprica," was all she said as explanation. Felix simply nodded, still overwhelmed.
"Can I see my people?"
The doctor smiled before answering. "There are a few colonial military personnel in the port side Cargo Bay preparing for a joint operation. You can meet them later. For now, I'd recommend a meal and some toilet time. You've been asleep for the better part of seventy-two hours, after all."
Amanda wheeled the newly fed and bathed Felix into the port side cargo bay, nodding to the pair of uniformed Tau'ri soldiers standing guard. The cargo bay was spacious. Up until recently it had held food, medicine and assorted emergency supplies for the Colonial civilian population. Or so she had been told.
At the moment it was a hub of activity as representatives from all three factions prepared for the upcoming exercises. Exercises to prepare them for the joint undertaking of seizing the Resurrection Hub. Across her Tau'ri soldiers gathered around a table loading ammunition and organizing their equipment. Off to the side from them Centurions stood in a row as human form Cylons conferred quietly.
Off to her side Colonial military personnel stayed together, checking their equipment while watching the Cylons suspiciously. A cheer rose up from this group as they recognized who she had with her. Smiling gratefully at the Colonial who came forward to take over steering Felix' wheelchair around she took a closer look at the cargo bay.
At the far end to her right was the cargo bay doors. Right now it was open to space, an energy field of some sort keeping the atmosphere in. A not so subtle reminder of who the masters of this vessel were. There were actually a few people, Colonials and Cylons both, gathered at the opening, watching in fascination as a Cylon Heavy Raider cleared the threshold to maneuver for a landing next to others of its kind. The Six who disembarked took a look around before taking off at a run and literally jumping into the arms of a Tau'ri officer, to the amusement of the his peers.
The back end of the cargo bay had a small firing range where the Tau'ri had tested their ammunition against deactivated Centurions. Those Centurions now lay in pieces, their armor riddled with holes from the lighter yet better penetrating Tau'ri bullets. Next to it was an enclosed area where Tau'ri in full battle gear queued in groups of four or five. From what she had heard, the inside was made up to look like the corridors of a Cylon ship, with random targets popping out at certain points. It allowed the Tau'ri to familiarize themselves with fighting and moving as a group aboard Cylon vessels. She felt a tight, wolfish smile creep into her features at the knowledge that the Tau'ri were taking this operation seriously. Oh yes, this reunion was going to be a bitch.
"Your thoughts, gentlemen?" The president asked the two men seated before her.
"The Tau'ri are very good, very professional. They know their craft and how to get the most out of it." The admiral observed. The scientist simply grunted in agreement, having been conscripted, mostly against his will, into watching the joint exercise.
"With a little practice they can easily match our kill ratio against Cylon Raiders." The admiral declared, and the president simply nodded. It was not really surprising. The Hammond's crew seemed to be a professional military unit, as opposed to a civilian crew. Taking that into account, it was not so far-fetched that they could be trained to the same degree of proficiency as the CDF. Especially given the latter's currently reduced circumstances.
"How do their planes measure up?"
"Not very well. Although they are undoubtedly strong."
Just like that, she was in the seat behind him. The scientist shivered as he felt her breath on his ear...
"Doctor Baltar? Care to elaborate?" The admiral was urging him to continue, and the scientist bit back a curse as he realized he had parroted the words that only he had heard.
"Their... their level of technology is inconsistent," he began, stammering as he attempted to regain his composure. "On the one hand we have their warship, extremely powerful for its size, at the other end are the fighters. They're bigger, with bigger engines, but have less acceleration, and only about as much firepower as one of our own vipers. For a far greater amount of raw materials. And not inexpensive materials at that, something in those hulls makes them almost undetectable thru DRADIS. And we still don't know how much armor protection it gives them."
"God helps those who help themselves and they have taken this to heart. They have the ability to break free from whatever path is set for them, forging their own and dragging others along with them. They are not to be underestimated." He paused, listening to her and fighting the urge to squirm as she sashayed around his chair to sit on his lap, leaning and pressing her body against him. The two older people simply passed off his obvious discomfort for his usual eccentricity and waited for him to continue.
"One would think they haven't been in space more than a few years. I can certainly think up a scenario that would support that! They don't even seem to have a grasp of zero-g combat maneuvering!"
"Excuse me?" The president was surprised. One would think such an obviously powerful space faring culture would have a grasp of … that.
"The fighters, these 'Wingsharks' maneuver as if they're in an atmosphere," the younger man explained. "Suggesting they have some esoteric technology that allows them to do that, that they acquired before they went into space."
The admiral almost kicked himself as he realized the scientist was right. It was one of the first lessons taught in viper training. Space and atmospheric maneuvering were entirely different pyramid courts.
"How many of these 'Wingsharks' do they have?" The president asked, using the name the Viper pilots had given the Tau'ri fighters, after winged predators that soared over the seas of Picon, preying on flying and swimming animals alike.
"Not many, no more than a standard size CDF squadron per warship." The admiral supplied.
"So we could conceivably overwhelm their fighter wing but not the warship." The two men nodded.
The president sighed. "They don't believe in the Gods and don't believe in Kobol. They do at least believe we are related to them but that theirs is the first homeworld. What do you make of that?"
"With respect Madame President," the scientist began. "They claim to have archaeological and fossil records dating several tens of thousands of years old. If I see it, I'd be more than willing to believe it."
"The Scriptures don't really delve much into the specifics of how we began on Kobol. Beyond 'Life here began out there', I'd have trouble believing any of it is meant to be literal. For all we know that first line may also mean out there outside of Kobol." Added the admiral, perhaps the only one of the three with a copy of said scriptures.
"Me too, to be honest. But the Quorum is up in arms about it. The more conservative representatives, that is. The Tau'ri refuse to discuss religion and have kept all dealings with us purely secular and formal, and that's kept them to the level of low grumbling for now. But as relations with them deepen it's bound to come up eventually."
"The Cylons know something, but won't say anything. I wonder if they even still believe in the old gods. They certainly seem familiar enough with some of them, but as for actually believing in their power... What if they're Monads, for example?" The scientist asked.
"Personally, I wouldn't care." The admiral opined. "They are not the Monads we knew from before the Cylon War."
"The Quorum will have a collective fit though..."
"Ok people, settle down!" Colonel Cameron Mitchell called out, catching everybody's attention. The Hammond's primary conference room was packed to capacity with SGC personnel, Cylons and Colonials. Everyone who would be participating in the joint operation. By a stroke of luck he was the senior-most officer participating in Operation Lazarus Unbound and would be overall in-charge. He and Hailey had actually flipped a coin to determine who would lead the boarding parties and who would lead the Air Wing, and the almighty quarter had decided he would do the former.
As part of the preparation for the joint operation, all three factions had just concluded combat maneuver exercises, to test how the combined Air Wing would perform against the expected opposition. The Air Force pilots had acquitted themselves very well, if he could say so himself. The kill ratio had exceeded ten to one. The Colonials had done slightly better, of course, but their pilots trained to fight Cylon Raiders almost exclusively. F302's by comparison had a slightly more varied rogues gallery to contend with. Still, he liked those Vipers. Very sleek, very efficient. With fangs to match.
As he got the debriefing started, he paid attention to both Cylons and Colonials as they critiqued his pilots and their planes. Despite what he thought, these were the experts. Between the two groups no one could claim to know more about Cylon Raiders, Baseships and how they would fare against them. Seizing that Hub was important. He knew why, even if they did not tell their new allies. If this worked out the local group of galaxies would benefit. Failure was not an option.
The man stepped into the chamber and waited for the bulkhead to be sealed behind him. Around him, this particular room had obviously been claimed as a home by the motley group before him. The room was not unique in that regard. The Galactica had several unused bulkheads in what used to be the port flight pod. Well they had been unused at the start of the Exodus. Now they were claimed by the various groups able to hold on to them.
"What's the news, my brother?" His comrade spoke from the center of the room.
"The Tau'ri are almost ready to go. There was a joint exercise earlier, Tau'ri learning to work together with our Vipers and some Cylon Heavy Raiders. They will be using one of their ships."
"Good." The man nodded, as did several others in the room. "Once one of their ships is gone, our task will be much easier."
"Do you really believe they're from Earth?" One of the other men asked the one sitting in the middle.
"Where else could they be from?"
"Why don't they just say so?" Another one asked. "They never admit they're from Earth. Always referring to themselves and their home as the Tau'ri."
"Because they no longer see us as their brothers. They no longer believe in the gods. They are monads and don't want to share their blessings with us." The leader spoke disgust evident, looking each man in the room in the eyes.
"What about the blue flash of light that rumors say they used?" Asked yet another.
"Don't believe everything you hear. Such a thing is impossible. The gods would never allow mere mortals to have such power."
"But the gods will be on our side. We just have to prove ourselves worthy, and the location of Earth will be given to us!"
Cheering filled the room at these words.
The light startled her. She certainly had not expected that. She opened her eyes, trying to clear the cobwebs around her consciousness.
"Welcome home, D'Anna."
She turned to see the source of the voice. A One. One that seemed to be in a lecturing mood. Just frakking great.
"You told me I'd never have to go through this again." A hint of surliness crept into her voice.
Cavil exchanged looks with an Eight before replying. "I lied."
D'Anna frowned, forcing her still sluggish mind to look past the One's words to the truth. "You thought you were putting me away forever. So what changed?"
"War. A genuine Cylon civil war. Ones and Fours and Fives against Twos and Sixes and Eights that objected to your... retirement. Now your supporters are working with humans against all the rest of us. All in your name."
D'Anna's mind reeled at what she learned. She definitely had not expected that. She turned away from Cavil hoping it was not true. Then she realized there was an Eight, a supposed rebel, in the chamber with them.
"Boomer's an Eight." D'Anna locked eyes with Boomer. "Shouldn't she be on the other side?"
Behind her, Cavil smirked. "Boomer's my pet Eight. She's seen the light of reason. And an Eight can make a passionate ally."
D'Anna kept her eyes on Boomer. "Oh, until she sees something shiny." She countered with more than a hint of sarcasm before turning to lie once more on her back. "Why'd you bring me back anyway?"
"I brought you to heal us, sister, and end this shameful war."