Neither Stargate:SG1 nor BSG:2003 is mine. If they were, the Valkyrie would have more guns facing forward than backward.
Werebane: Yes, Vipers have hardpoints for external ordinance. Notably in canon it was Vipers packing nukes that actually destroyed the Hub.
As always all the good feedback you've been giving are much appreciated. Happy Halloween everyone!
The Hammond exited Hyperspace at the projected edge of the Hub's sensor range.
"Exit coordinates confirmed. We have the Hub on sensors. Six escort Baseships detected." Navigation called out.
Sam acknowledge him with a nod. They were right where they wanted to be. "Let's get this show on the road, then. Lower shields, launch fighters and transfer power to Plasma Beam Cannons."
"Aye sir."
As one 302's, vipers, heavy raiders and raptors disengaged the clamps holding them onto the Hammond's outer hull, assuming whatever velocity the Hammond imparted to them. Suggested by Captain Agathon, this was the quickest way to launch all of the smaller craft at once. And so the Hammond had stopped a few lightyears out and let them piggyback the rest of the way in. The larger ship would be vulnerable for the few seconds it took all of them to move past where the shields would be, but the risk was judged to be minimal considering the distances the raiders and any missile fire would have to cross.
"Fighter wing reports launch ops completed. Shields are back to one hundred percent."
"Very well," Sam acknowledged. As planned, the Heavy Raiders activated their systems first, broadcasting on Cylon IFF to throw them off guard, and allow the strike force to creep closer with stealthed 302's providing escort. The Hammond's shields dampened her emissions, but the vipers and raptors would have to rely on inertia at this stage to move closer while avoiding detection.
"Fire PBC's at predesignated targets, then start beaming our boarding parties in." Sam ordered, moving the plan to stage two. Three Plasma Beams crossed the distance between the Hammond and the Hub. One burrowed into the ship to punch out the other side, surgically piercing the FTL core and rendering it inert. Another cut off the subspace transceiver at the top of the cathedral like superstructure, while a third cut off one of the external pylons used by the reactionless drives. The Hub was dead in the water.
The reaction was instantaneous. Baseships started moving to screen the Hub, raiders and missiles launching. In response the vipers and raptors finally activated their systems, racing forward to intercept. "Set course for Baseship One. Load antifighter munitions on tubes one to eight and fire when ready. Railguns and pulse cannons on point defense."
One of the upgrades the Hammond had received after Icarus was that half of her railguns had been replaced with pulse cannons. These were upscaled production models of the X-699 energy weapon, itself a descendant of Jay Felger's project. The prototypes on the Hammond took design cues from salvaged Asgard, Wraith, Hebridan, Goa'uld, and a whole host of other alien variations, along with working schematics of the Destiny's weapons that they had managed to dig out of the Atlantis database. The Hammond was only a testbed for now. If successful, a larger deployment was intended across Earth's fleet, though Earth had no plans for the moment to completely retire their railguns. The simple fact was that most of the factions currently hostile to Earth used energy weapons and therefore configured their armor and shielding to protect primarily against those same energy weapons. It gave Earth's high velocity projectile weapons a distinct and penetrating advantage in ship to ship slugging matches.
"Something's wrong." Boomer was monitoring the external sensors through the data stream. She could not put her finger on exactly what was wrong however, only that something was.
"You've gotta speak to the Twos and Sixes and Eights and tell them they've gone too far." Cavil all but commanded.
"No." D'Anna all but moaned. This One was clearly trying to recruit her for his own purposes and she was not having it. "Why didn't you ask about the Final Five? You never ask about them."
"That's because I don't believe we're meant to know them," Cavil stated matter of factly, trying to inject as much authority as he could into his voice.
"Well, I'll tell you. I will tell you, I'll start shouting out their names." D'Anna growled. "Why do you risk it?"
"Are you going to help end this war or are you useless?" Cavil asked, patience exhausted.
"Twenty-five Heavy Raiders just appeared on DRADIS, heading our way." Boomer was perplexed. As a Raptor pilot she was infinitely familiar with DRADIS systems and the way these Heavy Raiders appeared, no sign of a jump, had her concerned.
"Oh, the inhibition's been lifted..." D'Anna marveled, tuning out the One as she realized she could now think about the Final Five. "Oh, I sense it."
"The Heavy Raiders aren't alone!" Boomer exclaimed as the Hub shuddered and she switched to visual scopes. "They've got vipers, raptors and Tau'ri ships with them. They've crippled the Hub." She looked at Cavil, fear evident on her face.
"That would be mass murder." Cavil said, face aghast. He leaned down on his hands over D'Anna, now more than ever desperate to get her on his side. "Death would be permanent for all of us," he said, trying to impress upon her how desperate the situation had become. "They've gone insane..."
"Permanent death?" D'Anna frowned. "Well, that makes this all the more meaningful." Her left hand shot out from under the surface of the resurrection tank. Clamping around the One's windpipe, she slammed his face down on the tank's edge with a mighty tug, snapping his neck in the process. She then shoved him away from the tank for good measure. D'Anna closed her eyes, relief at being free of the One's nattering evident on her face. If Boomer was inclined to avenge the Cavil, she was past the point of caring. Instead Boomer just ran off. D'Anna's eyebrow arched as she threw a glance at the chamber's exit. That was a surprise.
The One paused at the peculiar sound and turned, only to see a flash of light from which materialized a centurion. A centurion with several people crouched around it facing outwards. He all but slammed his hand into the datastream.
"Stop him!"
He screamed as an energy bolt of some kind slammed into him, forcing what felt like all of his muscles to seize up at the same time. The One fell to the floor writhing in pain yet also obviously still far from subdued. Several soldiers moved forward to clamp cuffs onto his wrists and ankles.
"Did he get anything out?" Cameron Mitchell asked the Six who had now placed her hand on the interface the One had just been using. Then bit back a curse as he realized part of the answer was in fact very noisily coming closer. Judging by the sound of metallic feet, a number of centurions were now converging on the Command Node they had beamed into. Quickly sharing looks with his team, he took the Six by hand to take cover, readying his G36K. Just in time for two centurions to burst into the open doorway, only to fall down to gunfire from a combination of Colonial and Tau'ri weapons. They were quickly replaced by two more, which after falling was replaced by yet another two more.
"Call for backup!" Vala instructed the radio communications operator assigned to their team. The airman did so, but in the mean time more and more Cylons arrived.
"Fire in the hole!"
One of the Tau'ri soldiers fired a grenade from the under-slung launcher of his M4A1 grenadier. The effect was immediate. The grenade flew right between the two that were currently in the doorway to detonate against the wall behind them. The shrapnel and hot gases exploded outward, quickly shredding the two it had bypassed and a few others still out in the corridor. It bought them time as the wreckage started hampering the other centurions trying to force their way in.
Time enough for other boarding teams to assist. Another warning cry sounded out from outside the room followed by another explosion. Gunfire sounded, and Cam grinned as he recognized the sound of SGC issue P90's and M4A1's. The entire firefight took less than two minutes.
"Team One this is Team Niner, do you copy, over?"
"Team Niner this is Team One, we lost the centurion but otherwise we're all here. Is that you outside?" Cam replied. Team Niner was led by Lt. Andy 'Riker' Spencer. And the Six that had attached herself(in more ways than one) to him. "Why don't you all come on in, over."
"Roger." Team Niner walked in, gingerly side-stepping the wrecks of centurions now littering the corridor, just in time to hear the Six curse. She had her hand on the watery interface.
"What happened?" Cam asked the Cylon.
"Frakking One started a purge of the entire resurrection database," she replied, eyes still closed. "Then he locked everybody else out… There. I've managed to hack past his encryption, but that's not all he did."
It was a few more seconds before she opened her eyes. "D'Anna had already been resurrected when we got here, so he went ahead and purged everybody else. It was almost seventy percent complete. As if that's not enough he also corrupted the templates used to grow more bodies, and the nutrient flow that's keeping the other model Three bodies alive. We have enough bodies for the Threes we can resurrect, but not much more."
The other Six nodded, tears in her eyes. Resurrection was now well and truly lost to them. On top of that, even more of their sisters had been figuratively killed for no other reason than just to spite them.
"Nasty piece of work, isn't he?" Lieutenant Spencer mirrored her thoughts as he placed his arm around her shoulders to comfort her while eyeing the now bound and gagged One with distaste. "Not nice at all." Vala agreed. The other soldiers kept their faces grim.
Cam let the silence hang for a moment before clearing his throat. "Down to business, people. You said D'Anna had been resurrected?" The Six nodded and Cam continued. "Then what say you take us down to meet her so we can tell her the bad news. We can leave the centurion and a couple of people to secure this location."
"There's another thing." The Six spoke again. "The logs say Boomer was here with the Ones. No record of any Raptor or Heavy Raider launching so she could still be here."
"Where's the closest bay from D'Anna's location?" Lida asked, now having regained herself.
"Bay Alpha three."
"We're closer than she is. I can get there and stop her." She said, determination blazing in her eyes. Riker threw a look at Cam asking for permission, and the older officer nodded.
Basestar One had not lasted long under Plasma Beam Cannon fire. The Asgard weapons were not even at their highest setting. Not the same settings used on Asuran and Wraith warships, despite their size. Even Cylons admitted that the pride of their fleet had a glass jaw compared to battlestars. At this setting a barrage was enough to destroy one baseship, with only a few seconds needed to charge for another barrage.
"Multiple wormhole jumps detected! We're surrounded, Baseships are firing multiple missile salvos. Nukes inbound!"
Sam grit her teeth. The Cylons had used the tactical advantage of their FTL drives to quickly surround the Hammond, hoping to smother it in missiles. Four Baseships were aligning for alpha strikes, top and bottom sections rotating independently to present the most number of missile tubes in the shortest amount of time. This was in addition to the Tau'ri battlecruiser's current target. That one was also firing as many missiles as it could, frantically trying to delay the inevitable.
"Evasive maneuvers! Maintain course for Baseship Two. Weps! Load anti-fighter rounds on tubes one to eight and fire at will. Where are my Asgard beams?"
"Just finished charging," the weapons officer barked. "Firing now!"
Despite the anti-fighter designation the missiles themselves worked equally well against capital scale missiles. These arced toward the Cylon missiles, hoping to take the load off of the Hammonds overworked pulse and railgun batteries. But it was still not enough and several missiles still impacted the Hammond's shields, whittling them down a hundredths of a percent at a time. As explosions rocked Baseship Two and rendered it dead in the water the Hammond's bridge crew cheered.
Boomer ran. The Ones must have really stocked up on hate for D'Anna to summarily execute Cavil like that. Not that she could really blame her. Choosing the better part of valor she had decided to make a run for it. Explanations would have taken time. Time that was increasingly growing short due to the Tau'ri attack. It was only a matter of time before the Hub was either nuked or boarded. D'Anna didn't seem to be in a mood to listen to explanations anyway, and killing her at this point would have been counterproductive.
She had just cleared another intersection when she heard it. An odd humming sound. Her interest, and caution, piqued, she stopped, turning around to slowly tiptoe back to the intersection. Getting down to all fours, she silently crept to take a peek from almost floor level, and stifled a gasp as she saw people filling the previously empty corridor. Two were wearing familiar colonial battle dress uniforms. Still more people were also in battle dress, but of a different, unfamiliar cut, possibly Tau'ri. There was a Two and a centurion with red paint on its chest plate.
Boarding parties! This made her escape even more paramount. Creeping back slowly and as stealthily as she could manage, she tiptoed back several meters before going to a flat out run.
"I can't shake him!"
"Vampire 8, Hardball. Break right on my mark. Mark!"
The 302 broke on command and allowed the helpful viper to mow down his pursuer.
"Thanks Hardball!"
"No problem, now your turn. Got an itch on my tail."
"Gladly."
The 302 simply climbed into a tight loop above the viper, quickly removing the raider taking potshots behind it. Hardball grinned at the maneuver. Those wingsharks were something else. She had picked it out by the emblem depicting a human's front teeth framed by overdeveloped canines and the number on its wings, but it had paid off for her as well.
"Now where the heck are we?" Her new friend asked.
"We're done for this wave." She answered matter of factly.
"Seriously?" The Tau'ri pilot was incredulous, by now no doubt checking his sensor screens.
"Yep. Raiders attack in waves. We're done with this one so we have some time to catch our breaths before the next one gets in."
"You're right." The Tau'ri muttered as he maneuvered his fighter back into formation among his squadron-mates. Hardball did the same.
"Vampire Lead, Space Bat Lead. Looks like they have the Hammond surrounded." 410th Space Fighter Squadron "Space Bats" was the other fighter squadron assigned to the Hammond.
"Vampire Lead, Helo. Leave the Hammond to us. Hotdog, commence nuclear strike on Baseship Six. Repeat. Nuclear strike is a go."
"Roger that." The aforementioned pilot and his preassigned escorts acknowledged. His viper was one of those designated to carry a strategic nuclear package. The chaos of combat had left him at the edge of the formation, closest to the capital scale battle royal.
"He's always rogering something." One of the other viper pilots quipped as the others laughed.
"Look sharp people! Next wave is inbound," warned a Heavy Raider, the pilot a model Two by the male voice.
She slowed down once more to tiptoes as she neared the final intersection. A quick peek told her a team of seven was guarding the entrance to this bay, including a model Six, but no Centurion. It made her self-appointed task more difficult. She did not want the blood of more people on her hands. Not if she could avoid it.
So she waited. And when the Six's back was turned, she made her move. One of the soldiers was able to cry out. Too late. From a flat out run, she launched herself, slamming both feet into the back of the Six and sending her flying. She grunted as her back landed on the floor but wasted no time rolling onto her hands and lashing out with a sweeping kick that dropped the two on her right to the floor. Then, regaining her balance, she launched herself once more, planting a foot each in two different soldiers, slamming both of them into the wall and knocking them out cold. She then spun, sidestepping another soldier who was charging in from her right. Grabbing the soldier's forearm in her left hand, she continued her spin, only for her right foot to find the chest of the last soldier. Then reversing her spin she slammed her right forearm into the soldier she had just sidestepped, suppressing a grimace as the clothesline maneuver sent both of the man's feet flying. The two she had first hit with a sweeping kick were getting back up. A right flying kick took care of one while a left hook took care of the other.
In the time it took Boomer to disable six soldiers the Six was able to regain herself. She charged back in to help. Or rather, tried. Boomer's pistol at her face stopped her short.
"I wouldn't think about it sister." Boomer smirked, eying the Six's short white dress with long flared sleeves. It seemed incongruous with the heavy black military vest, or the helmet that had flown off when the dropkick hit her, or the submachine gun Sixes were known to favor. The pale knee-high boots matched though.
"You should stand trial for your crimes," Lida grit out.
"Perhaps, sister. But not today. Today I have other things to accomplish." Boomer had stepped into the shuttle bay while talking. She reached over to the data stream interface to close the door and locked it with a password. It would not stop an angry Cylon for long, but a few minutes was all she needed. She grinned as she heard what seemed to be the Six screaming out in frustration. Another time.
Doctor Jean Claude de Val smiled at his current patient as he did his workup. He had by now lost track of how many times he had done this today. Two years ago, he had just gotten back to Belgium from a Medecin sans Frontieres intervention in Africa when he received a most peculiar group of visitors. They had insisted on a non-disclosure agreement before they could describe what they wanted of him, and he had playfully noted that they could have just asked for a consultation and doctor-patient confidentiality would have taken care of his silence. Nevertheless, they insisted and he was piqued enough as to what an American Air Force general and a collection of civilian diplomats and scientists wanted from him that he signed.
What he learned would literally leave him speechless. All this time the major powers of the world had been waging interstellar wars against space invaders and alien warlords. He had been flabbergasted to learn that he was in the presence of the same people who had found the cure for the mystery plague of '05. Stunned to learn that that had been a case of biological warfare perpetrated by an alien power. He quickly realized what they wanted of him, a doctor whose single greatest claim to distinction was a penchant for volunteer work. Terrestrial conflicts no matter what scale always left victims. Interstellar wars could be no different. And so he accepted their offer of a job.
To join a sub-organization within their IOA, working with them to provide relief efforts to locations where alien threats had been removed and civilian populations needed assistance, coordinating with allied alien powers. It was, in some ways, much the same things he had done during his volunteer work, but on a much larger scale. Though having to work with one of the "aggressors" in the conflict rankled, he understood the other side would not take kindly to such efforts, and could at least be thankful the victims were not simply left to fend for themselves. Frankly he had been flattered that they had come to him. When he was not swamped by work, that is. The Ori War had left such large scale destruction that his fledgling organization had been continually stressed almost to the breaking point.
Now he was here. On a gargantuan warship that was falling apart at the seams. Tending to a civilian refugee population nestled in its belly(well, it was an outrigger pod, but he did not much care for such a minor detail). At least the battlestar had topnotch water filtration and recycling systems. Small favors, considering the presence of clean water was usually the largest concern for any aid effort. Of greater concern in this particular case was the fact that the large number of refugees were spread out over several ships. While cooperative for the most part, shuttling to and fro was getting to be a chore. He was looking forward to just being beamed everywhere, which according to a recent briefing they were now cleared to use. Just like Star Trek.
His current patient was in good health considering the circumstances and he told him so. Nutritional supplements were already being mixed into the food they prepared, so all he had to do was eat up. As he was about to call for the next patient he became aware of a commotion just outside the enclosures built for the clinics. He peaked out the curtain, only to see another man holding the other refugees at gun point. Further investigation showed the SGC escorts being pinned down or beat up.
Outraged, he stepped out. "Stop that! What is the meaning of this?"
"Ah, Doctor, so good of you to join us." The gun wielder leered at him. "You are going to give us the coordinates to Earth."
"Coordinates?" He frowned. "What are you talking about? We're doctors not navigators. We don't know anything about any coordinates."
"Nevertheless, you are going to help us get it." He smirked as two of his companions stepped up to take hold of the doctor's arms. He wasn't the only one, he noticed as he felt his stomach sink. Wherever these hooligans were taking him, he was not going to be alone.
The battle was over. The Tau'ri warship was licking its wounds. While victorious, being bracketed by no less than four much larger and heavily armed ships at knife fight range had not left it unscathed. Four baseships had been destroyed before the Cylons wrote off the Hub and jumped the last two out. Now the Tau'ri consolidated their gains, checking their ship and the Hub for signs of damage and/or sabotage.
The fighters and small craft had suffered losses as well. Eammon "Gonzo" Pike had broken formation during the battle and paid the price. Eight Tau'ri pilots would never sortie again. Neither would almost half again that number of Colonial pilots. Even the Cylon Heavy Raiders had been unable to avoid casualties.
The Heavy Raider was hiding in the debris field that used to be Basestar Two, watching the victors. Its engines and jump drive were on standby as the pilot considered her options. Boomer fought the urge to hail the Hammond and identify herself. She had to see this through. She watched, amazed, as the diminutive Tau'ri warship enveloped the much larger Hub in some sort of blue energy field and started towing it. These people were indeed powerful.
It was not long after reality was seemingly torn and the successful allied task force disappeared into FTL that Boomer started moving. Easing the Heavy Raider out of the debris field she started inputting coordinates for the series of jumps that would take her back to the Colony. She had taken an incredible risk staying around during the battle but it had been well worth it. She now had what she needed to proceed with the plan.