Stargate:SG1 and Battlestar Galactica aren't mine because if they were more people than just Sam Anders' piddly little crew would have been rescued.
Thanks for all the awesome support. Sorry this update took so long. I had struggled for a while how to present it, and here I am now with a 4.9K word monstrosity. It's not long compared to other fics, but it's the longest I've ever written. Cheers!
Saul Tigh surreptitiously looked around him before turning around the hallway corner. Reaching for the hatch at the end, he took one last look around before opening it and slipping inside, quietly closing it behind him.
"Any news?"
The other members of this unholy cabal were already waiting for him. As one, they shook their heads, eliciting a curse from the balding Colonial fleet officer.
"Somebody's covering for them, I just know it." Galen Tyrol frowned. "Duty rotations have been juggled around. I just don't have the authority to question any of the officers down there who might be involved. And there's literally kilometers of corridors and bulkheads down there."
Saul sighed, not for the first time getting the urge to curse the Sons of Ares to eternal limbo and back. As if their antics were not bad enough, they also had to deal with the Threes now.
The joint operation had been a success beyond their wildest estimates. Celebration had greeted the communique from the Hammond, followed shortly by waves of Heavy Raiders and Raptors bringing the men and women who had participated home.
That celebration was short lived, however. As soon as the Three known as D'Anna Biers arrived, she had broadcast her demand for the fleet to turn over the remaining members of the Final Five. To punctuate her ultimatum, one of the Basestars had performed a tactical jump to the other side of the fleet, giving them maximum coverage.
The Cylons were rattling their sabers, and thanks to the Sons of Ares, the Tau'ri silence was deafening.
Captain Kara Thrace circled the old school viper, carefully assessing its gleaming white and red trimmed paint job. It was the same viper she had flown back from Earth to rejoin the fleet. She now knew it was not the same viper she had left in.
By Tyrol's estimates it was entirely brand new. It had none of the wear and tear typically associated with a forty year old craft. No microfractures or warping in the structural frame. No signs of the residue that typically accumulates in tylium energizers. It was as if it had been built specifically for the purpose of bringing her back.
She had never really thought about it much before. Who would do such a thing and why?
No, that was not entirely accurate. She had always known why. It, just like her disappearance, was another arrow pointing the way to Earth. Now she could feel it, calling out to her. The feeling was not dissimilar to the time aboard the Demetrius, when her gut had had her zig-zagging across sectors until she came upon the Tau'ri. Now it was calling, no, demanding, for her to be here. Daring her to interpret the next signpost on the road to Earth.
Lords of Kobol help us... Artemis...
The Tribes of Kobol were now at a crossroads. Down one path was their new home, be it Earth or otherwise. Down the other was their death at the hands of the newly belligerent Cylons and the uncaring Tau'ri.
She could not even bring herself to blame either one. The Cylons wanted the Final Five back among them. How the Final Five came to be among the Colonials was a puzzle, but she no longer had the strength to begrudge them that desire. The fleet would probably be better off without the skinjobs anyway.
As for the Tau'ri...
She supposed it could be hard to care for someone that had lashed out at you after you had given them nothing but good will. To be frank she was just plain tired of it all.
And now that was another problem, of course. The Tau'ri had issued their ultimatum, and the clock was ticking. What form would their action take when that clock ran out?
Trying to get such dark thoughts out of her mind, she climbed into the old style viper's canopy and on an idle whim, started toggling switches and pressing buttons. A general systems diagnostic seemed just the thing to clear her mind.
Unfortunately it did not work for long and her thoughts inevitably went back to their previous direction.
As if the two ultimatums were not bad enough that infernal beeping seemed to be counting off the deadline second by painstaking second. Wait... what beeping?
Natalie Faust fingered the raised scar that ran down the center of her chest. The Tau'ri surgeons had not left any stitches on the outside of the skin, but if she pressed deeply enough she could feel the outlines of stitches on the inner layers.
By all accounts, it had been a very close call. Too close. Athena's first shot had shattered her breastbone, peppering her heart with bone fragments before lodging the bullet itself next to her spine. The second one had gone unimpeded through what remained of the heart before ricocheting off of the rear wall of her ribcage, going right through a lung before embedding itself at the front. Cardiac failure had been instantaneous, and she had almost literally drowned in her own blood as her lung collapsed.
With the little she knew of medicine, she did not think ten minutes would have been long enough to save her life, even with her hardier Cylon constitution. The Tau'ri must have acted extremely quickly for her to be lying here now. As it was, she remembered periodically regaining consciousness as her enhanced metabolism kept burning through the sedatives, and she distinctly recalled being strapped down to machines that pumped blood and oxygen through her.
She suspected the sedatives were supposed to be keeping her under even now. But as she had awoken ahead of schedule, the Tau'ri doctors had been forced to conclude that she was well on the road to recovery.
In the old days, she would have just discarded the body and resurrected in a new one, but that option was no longer available. Now here she was. The first Cylon recipient of a major organ transplant. Two major organ transplants, as both her heart and lung had been replaced. Likely the sternum as well.
They had been harvested off of a Three that would no longer be needing them. She felt a stab of grief as she remembered what she had been told about their fate. The Ones would pay. Pay dearly.
Now D'Anna was on a warpath and the sooner she was on her feet the greater her chances of salvaging the fledgling peace. She was convinced now more than ever that any hope for the future lay with continued coexistence with the Colonials and the Tau'ri.
Colonel Samantha Carter materialized directly in front of the Mark II Viper. The Tau'ri were understandably cautious since the abduction of their doctors, and so the battleship commander and her entourage were wearing tactical vests over the green jumpsuit that was uniform of the day aboard their own ship. A sidearm was strapped to her hip, as was another to Major Hailey's. Around them, a team of marines was loaded for bear, wearing combat helmets and wielding assault rifles.
President Laura Roslin was already there, and she had apparently taken the time to pick Doctor Baltar up along the way. The Colonial Fleet's premier scientific mind seemed preoccupied as usual.
D'Anna Biers was also there, along with a contingent of Cylons, one from each model currently represented aboard their ships. Including the single One.
She greeted those already assembled with a nod and a smile before casting her gaze at the old style warbird before her. As she did so, a whistling sound heralded the arrival of Colonels Gant and Davis from the Odyssey. Their jumpsuits were blue, but like Colonel Carter they had tactical vests and sidearms with them. Along with armed to the teeth marines.
"Colonels, you have my thanks for coming on such short notice." Starbuck began once the greetings were completed. And it was short notice. Colonel Carter and her ship had not rejoined the fleet for more than an hour and already here she was.
"It was nothing at all, with the deadline we've set for the Sons of Ares fast approaching, we've all been on high alert, anyway." Colonel Davis replied as the others nodded in agreement.
Starbuck's face fell. "I was hoping that with what I have to show you, you'd be open to extending the deadline."
"Why don't you show us why you've called us here." Colonel Gant stated dispassionately, her expression neutral.
Starbuck nodded, carefully noting that no promises were made. Turning back to the viper, she went down to business. "If you'll listen closely, you will hear the faint beeping."
The Tau'ri nodded.
"It began when I powered up the viper for a general system diagnostic, and I've checked out what it is. It is a notification that the viper is detecting an emergency locator beacon. The same type issued to pilots of the first war in case they were shot down."
"And this viper is the only one detecting it?" The president asked, her face incredulous.
Starbuck nodded. "The frequency was changed some time after the first war. At a guess, whoever built this viper also configured it to detect the beacon once we were close enough."
"How close?" Colonel Davis asked.
"Within around 10,000 SU or about a sixth of a lightyear," a new voice answered as Lee Adama approached the gathering from one of the corridors.
"Hey!" Starbuck moved to give the officer turned politician a brotherly hug as he arrived. "How's the old man?"
"Put him to bed. I doubt he'd stay there, but he needs the rest more than anything. How are you holding up?"
"I'll survive." Starbuck replied, now showing visible signs of exhaustion. "There are more important things right now."
The gathered Tau'ri listened to the exchange without comment, politely giving the two some privacy. Colonel Tigh, the ship's Executive Officer had just turned himself in as a skinjob. They could only imagine how the Admiral would have reacted to his closest friend of the past three decades turning out to be something anathema to the Colonial mindset.
And he wasn't the only one. Galen Tyrol, the seniormost petty officer of the fleet had also turned himself in, further dealing a blow to Colonial morale.
Tory Foster was another one. The President's chief aide, she had happened to be on the Odyssey, ostensibly delivering some paperwork when the news broke out. Rather than return to the Galactica to be with the others, she had turned herself in to the Cylons and had promptly been shuttled away to one of the Baseships.
Together, all three were considered critical pillars of the fleet's leadership structure.
In theory, Starbuck should have been in the same boat. Her husband had turned out to be the fourth and last of the still living Final Five, but she had held it together. Somehow she had found the reserves to keep going.
Colonel Davis cleared his throat when he felt that the two Colonials had had sufficient time. "Are you able to pinpoint where the signal is coming from?"
"Typically we'd have several ships triangulating the signal." Lee replied. "It shouldn't be a problem for Starbuck to contact CIC and have the OD and communications officer make the adjustments."
"Allow us." Colonel Carter smoothly offered as she gestured Major Hailey. The younger officer already had her hand pressed to her earpiece, conferring with their ship. "What frequency?"
Starbuck gave the frequency and watched expectantly as Major Hailey spoke to her earpiece. After some minutes she looked at her commanding officer and just shook her head.
"There's a planet there, same size and mass as what we're used to. But that's about it." She explained. "Ambient radiation is jamming our scans. We can't see anything at low orbit or below."
"Looks like you may have to send a recon flight and eyeball it." Colonel Carter suggested.
"Who can authorize one?" President Roslin asked.
"Captain Agathon should be OD at the CIC. Kara could do it too, since the pilots will be under her direct supervision." Lee replied.
"I'll get to it then." Kara said grimly as she walked to a handset hanging on a wall.
"If this pans out, I'm willing to call the fireworks off," D'Anna stated.
They will find something, Gaius. Just like that, she captured his attention. She was in that turquoise halter dress, her arms around him as she pressed her full breasts against his back and whispered in his ear.
Shaking his head, he focused just in time to hear Colonel Carter speak.
"Well, there's the message, let's see if we can figure out who sent it." She spoke as she raised her hand to her earpiece.
"Hammond, this is Colonel Carter. Target the viper two meters in front of me and prepare to initiate a full spectrum scan. Link up to the Asgard Core for maximum resolution, and begin when ready. Upload the findings to Major Hailey's PDA."
Colonel Carter kept her hand on her earpiece as she listened to her ship's response. Meanwhile, Major Hailey pulled up her left sleeve to display the PDA strapped there. Tapping on the screen a few times, she waited while it downloaded the app that would display the scan's results from the Hammond.
"Everybody step back!" Carter called out as the scan was about to begin.
Now we find the true face of God. Again her voice captured his attention, making him shiver as her hands wandered. At her urging he sidled over to Major Hailey's side. The younger officer let him look at the display over her shoulder, figuring that the refugee fleet's resident genius would see the results eventually anyway.
Gaius Baltar scrutinized the small touch screen strapped to the Tau'ri officer's left forearm. He had been spending time lately, trying to learn their alphabet. It was extremely similar to Colonial standard as to be all but identical, hinting at either a shared ancestry or parallel evolution. There were some differences, but it was still uncanny.
A smile twitched his lips as he realized that the display's results were labeled in both Tau'ri and Colonial standard. That would make it much easer. As he watched the results stream, though, his blood began to run cold.
"This can't be right!" He erupted, no longer able to contain himself.
"I assure you it is." Major Hailey replied succinctly.
Gaius looked up at the Colonials and the Cylons. Both groups were looking at him expectantly while the Tau'ri just looked grim. He swallowed before speaking.
"Alloy homogeneity, crystal lattice alignment... All in the upper ninety percent! But in order to get results like these you would have to build the viper from the ground up, molecule by molecule. And that's just... impossible..."
He trailed off as he realized that it was not impossible to the Tau'ri. They had to be able to, if they were able to detect such precision. Furthermore, it was a virtual requirement for their point to point matter transmission technology.
"Did you.." He struggled to complete the question. Looking at the face of God, indeed.
"No, we did not. We barely even understand the technology as it is right now, despite our frequent use. But there are other far older races who wouldn't think twice at assembling something like this in the manner you, and we, suspect." Colonel Carter explained.
"You've met them." The President said. It was not a question.
"Some of them are still around." Colonel Carter sighed. "Most of them stay away from the affairs of those they consider primitive. That includes us. Some of them aren't native to this galaxy."
President Roslin nodded. "Get that recon flight arranged, Captain Thrace. I don't want to risk jumping the fleet in without knowing what's there."
The man sat on his chair, his throne. Surrounded by his brothers, his fellow believers, here in their sanctum, life could not be better. Soon Earth would be found, and with the role he and his brothers had played in obtaining its location, the Gods would be in ascendance once more.
But first they had to find it. The monad Tau'ri abominations were being reticent. The doctors did not know how to get there, and that was to be expected. But the military had tried to talk tough. As if they were any match for the faithful of the God of War.
Once they had found Earth, the mere presence of the battlestar was sure to cow those monads. Those pathetic little ships the Tau'ri used would stand no chance against the Galactica. And if the Admiral did not deal with them as he should... well then, he would be dealt with as well.
He heard the hatch open and he looked up, still smiling at his thoughts , only to start as two small objects came flying into the middle of his gathered brothers. Grenades!
It was all he could think before a bright flash and a loud bang consumed his senses.
He felt as if he was swimming in Phlegethon. He was still trying to blink the white spots from his eyes, and his ears were still ringing. He had thrown himself from his chair to avoid the explosions, and with his sense of balance so disrupted even crawling for cover behind the chair had been an agony.
The Tau'ri, it could only be they, did not even bother with any warnings. Just walked in, shooting at anything that moved. A near miss had clipped him on his right shoulder, and it burned! It was now twitching helplessly at his side while he gripped the pistol he always carried in his off hand.
"Put your weapon down!"
Not willing to give up without a fight he raised his gun and fired at where the voice was coming from, only to hear the distinctive sound of bullets hitting reinforced plastic. Riot shields. He thought with dismay as he felt more bullets hitting him.
It was early in its infancy when the Lucian Alliance realized how much of a problem the Tau'ri would be. Back then, the Tau'ri had just one planet and one ship. Earth was a bit more populous and industrialized than most, but it was just one planet, and the less said about the Prometheus, the better.
Back then the Lucian Alliance already had in operation a modest fleet of Ha'taks, with more in mothballs awaiting trained crews. They would never have been able to match the Free Jaffa, but Earth's piddly little fleet would never have stood a chance. As long as they stayed out of the Antarctica super weapon's sights, that is.
But in the short time since then, Earth's forces had grown. Evolved. Each conflict they fought only ended with them being even more powerful than before. Their ships while barely half the size of a Ha'tak were by and large easily superior to the Goa'uld mainstay. And there were rumors of secret offworld bases that they were building and expanding. Along with an ever expanding network of allies and contacts.
Research and Development was the key. The Tau'ri effort in this respect far exceeded that of the Jaffa, or the Lucian Alliance, and was only distantly followed by the Tok'ra. And they did not rest on their laurels. Efforts continued despite already having a commanding lead in the space arms race.
To even have a hope in the eventual conflict that would no doubt ensue, the Lucian Alliance would have to invest as well.
Ironically the tools to lessen the gap were to be found on Earth itself. The socio-political upheavals of the past few decades had created a pool of trained scientists, engineers and military professionals all willing to sell their skills to the highest bidder.
The investment had paid off almost immediately. It was in fact, mercenary scientists recruited from Earth who had suggested adding more power cores to the Ha'tak in order to be able to feed more power to shields and weapons. It was not as if the Ha'taks did not have the space for it. Its old owners had been using them to transport armies. Armies the Lucian Alliance did not have. Not in any significant numbers anyway.
Now, pilots and engineers were heavily involved in upgrading other Lucian Alliance craft so as to present more of a challenge to the Tau'ri. For one thing, despite having superior propulsion and weapon technologies, the Deathglider's performance simply lagged behind that of its Tau'ri counterpart. Much of it was Tau'ri training and skill. Something that the Lucian Alliance would not be able to match in the short term, but some of the Deathglider's systems were also downright primitive, and it was hoped that enhancing these with the typical luxuries Tau'ri pilots enjoyed would allow them to close the kill ratios somewhat.
Yuri was a part of that. Ironically, Yuri learned his trade in the United States Armed Forces. The very same one that played a lead role in Tau'ri interstellar dealings. Specifically, he had been a pilot for the US Navy.
Long before that however, he had been a Ukrainian boy smuggled into the United States to grow up there and eventually infiltrate the military-political complex. He had almost been discovered once when a philandering senator tried to frame him for murder. His name was eventually cleared, but his until then rapid rise through the ranks was over.
And then the bottom really fell out. The Soviet Union dissolved, and the once monolithic KGB disintegrated as its rank and file declared themselves for this or that former SSR. The deep cover operation that included him was one of many to fall through the cracks as his handlers went rogue, some going back to their own homelands, some remaining in their comfortable american lives.
He had eventually managed to go home, only to find that home had no place for him. He had been gone too long, too americanized. He had been in Africa, training a local warlord's pilots when the Lucian Alliance found him, by then eschewing any other name save for the one american intelligence conspiracy theorists had given him.
He was in the Operations Center when he noticed one of the technicians scratch his head. Stepping closer, he smiled. "What's going on?"
"For a moment, I thought there was a glitch." The sensor technician frowned. Sensor information was collated at the Operations Center. While the station had a designated command center, it was really little more than a captain's chair with helm and weapons stations. It had access to sensor data, but the Command Center itself could not hold enough people during combat operations to process all the information effectively.
"Take it easy," he soothed the irritated tech. "Run through what you were doing earlier, step by step."
As the tech retraced what he had been doing, he focused on the display.
"There," he pointed at the display, where something had blinked for a split second. "Switch from wideband to narrowband and sweep this area."
As the tech complied, he considered what it might be. The fact that the sensors had trouble locking onto it implied some sort of stealth or Low Observability technology. It was not quite a cloak though, which would have been completely undetectable. Something in between, which only the Tau'ri employed extensively.
"It's some sort of small craft. Unidentified. Mass shadow of fifty tons." The tech called out once he had run it through the sensor recognition software.
"Contact Flight operations for a recon flyby." He instructed the tech, and then thought again.
"Belay that, have them prep two of the prototypes instead. I'll go check it out myself." He ordered before running off towards the Deathglider hangar.
The "prototypes" were testbeds for planned upgrades to the Lucian Alliance's Deathgliders. At first glance they were very similar to the standard glider that had been Goa'uld instruments of terror for millenia. Until one saw the trio of missiles affixed to pylons jury-rigged onto the staff cannons. A closer inspection would show that were cannons themselves were different. Rather than oriented in the traditional parallel configuration, they were canted upwards, or inwards once the wings were in flight configuration. Blasts from these cannons would pass very close to each other at a pre-defined point two hundred and fifty meters from the front of the glider. The stubby nose had also been elongated to accommodate the additional sensor and guidance systems.
As Yuri strapped himself in, he gave a cursory examination to the changes they had made to the cockpit itself. Both pilot stations now boasted holographic Heads Up Displays. Consoles had also been added, for fire control. All indicators were green and he gave the tech a thumbs up to signal he was ready. The tech stepped back to let the cockpit cradle be raised up into the actual Deathglider and the Deathglider itself moved onto a launch rail as its wings were raised into position.
As the Deathglider was accelerated out of the launch bay, Yuri marveled once more at how effective the inertial dampeners were. An old Earth fighter accelerating at this rate, if one could, would kill its pilot with G forces, yet he could barely feel a thing. The US Air Force had been able to reverse engineer it, and had apparently shared it with their allies. He shrugged the thought off. He did not particularly care if the Lucian Alliance won or lost. As long as they kept paying the solid gold bullion they promised him. If he made some money off of their death throes, so much the better.
Asking for a quick status, the Operations Center gave him a heading and when his wingman acknowledged he banked sharply. Steering the Deathglider into a flatspin, he gunned the acceleration as he headed out to investigate.
The station's sensors had already tagged the bogey as unidentified. Meaning the sensor profile did not match known spacecraft used by other factions like the Tau'ri or Hebridans. It could still be a known one heavily modified, or an entirely new contact. Hence, a recon flyby to investigate and interrogate.
"Control, I have eyes on the target," he called out on the horn as he peered at the magnified image on his scopes. "Target resembles the front end of an Apache, bulked up a bit, with what looks like a Hornet's tailfins sticking out the back. Proceeding with flyby and challenge."
As he approached the craft, it started maneuvering wildly, moving away. "Control, target has initiated evasive maneuvers and is not responding to hails. Arming missiles for a warning shot." It was well beyond the two to three hundred meters that was considered optimal engagement range for his plasma cannons and at fifty tones the armor seemed heavy enough to take one missile. He hoped so anyway.
"Firing Fox Three!" He called out once he heard the ringing tone of a missile lock, only to gape in surprise as the target disappeared in a flash of light. Leaving the missile to trail smoke through empty space.
"Wakey, wakey..."
He thrashed as he felt water on his face. He opened his eyes, looking around wildly. He was strung up by his hands, hanging from the ceiling. As were all his other brothers. None seemed to be seriously injured and some were beginning to stir. Their attackers were dressed in civilian clothing mixed with military gear. Weapons and harnesses. Masks hid their features.
"You! Who do you think you are?"
He saw stars as a hand hit his jaw.
"You're not the one asking questions here." The man before him sneered.
"How dare you! You'll never get anything from me! You'll never get them back!"
"What makes you think we want anything from you?" The man's mocking smile was evident even with the mask on. It was the face of one who held all the cards.
"You'll never get away with this, Tau'ri! I know who you are! This is against the law! Against all the laws of war!"
His words were met with laughter. Every single one of them was laughing.
"I read those laws you know," the masked man said condescendingly. "We are not at war with each other. You are not lawful soldiers of the Colonies, you're just... criminals. Thugs."
"You can't prove that we are Tau'ri..." He continued. "And we were never here."
At this one of the others stepped forward and tapped him on the shoulder, before leaning over to whisper in his ear.
"Well then." The man's eyes crinkled with sarcasm as he spoke. "We've already taken too much of your time. We'll show ourselves out... Oh and we'll be taking your guns, along with everything else you've stashed. Have a nice day."