AH: Important: If you just saw the update then you might have missed Chapter 33 which was updated Friday with the first half of the space battle.
The Honor Harrington references were Porker LaFollet (Andrew LaFollet is Steadholder Harrington's personal armsman) and when Gray and Adama were talking about hunting the violent treecats.
I also want to apologize for not including more Terminators in the space battles. I do worry they might get into Mary Sue/Marty Stu land if they did everything, so space battles are currently the realm of the Colonials. And a chapter with Soto sitting at her console and helping the fire control computers would probably be boring compared to Vipers and Raptors. ;) There'll be plenty of gratuitous machine-Cylon violence in the next chapters. And I think the reasons why basically all the main machine characters are on the planet will become apparent about 3/4 of the way down.
Admiral Cain had felt very little emotion over the last year. Four months in a Cylon torture cell had beaten, cut, and broken out of her almost everything except rage and hatred for her Cylon torturers. And by extension, her sympathy and compassion.
In the moment she faced nine baseships she had a realization; she wasn't cold or dead. She had just buried those emotions. She didn't want to die like she finally realized she had secretly wanted to when after she'd shot Belzen, her best and dearest friend, and pushed an attack on the Cylon com relay- no, staging area.
She marveled at how far she'd come, how machines had helped teach her some humanity and how the civilian fleet, the second civilian fleet she'd encountered, had given her purpose. That dark time between the Fall of the Twelve Colonies and meeting Galactica had been a time she had wanted to die. Die and take thousands of Toasters with her.
This time of all times to have a soul searching realization… she smirked… but then her jaw tightened and her back straightened. She wanted to live. Living would be a slap in the face to the Cylons. Living would let her spit in their eye and let her beat them down again and again.
She had a battle to win. But she needed a miracle.
Her neck was careened back and she rubbed it roughly as her eyes moved side-to-side hurriedly as data streak across the flat screens half a meter above her head. Dozens of missiles, hundreds of Raiders were clouding the DRADIS.
In the corner a red circle flashed urgently for her attention. The Cylons were hacking their networks but were being pushed back by the smart programs the Terminators had installed. She sneered again and felt pride swell within her. The Cylons, once feared for their computer mastery, were now beating impotently at the doors to her networks.
Her eyes found the targets. Two large DRADIS signatures hiding at extreme range. They were light minutes out and her eyes narrowed to pinpricks.
"Captain Shaw!" She shouted. Her head snapped to neutral and her neck twisted. "Order the Blackbirds to launch with nuclear missile ordnance! Order reserve Vipers to arm with nuclear missiles!"
Radiological alarms whined as a nuke hit Helios.
Major Avion gripped the command console as a wave of anti-fighter missile slammed into the back of Helios. He heard someone shout something- his mind warned him to brace himself- and something power, very powerful, an anti-ship missile hit and rocketd the ship sideways. He felt the powerful stabilization thrusters activate and compensate and he was sent staggering backwards, slamming him into the console. He felt ribs cracks . Avion sucked in much needed air and double over and the pain tore into his side, up his chest, and through his neck. He cursed and winced as he struggled to breath and his eyes searched desperately for a medic but his mouth remained firmly shut as he saw the carnage and death in CIC.
Others needed medical attention. He pushed himself to a knee. He was the CO, their leader and would fight through his own injuries.
He steadied himself with one hand gripping the console and the right hand pressed against the cold, slick… bloody deck. Avion spit a mouthful of blood and bit off inner cheek. Something pinged on the deck plate and groaned before letting out a dark chuckle as he watched one of his molars roll on the deck plating away from him.
"Status report!" He shouted. Blood dripped from his mouth like water and he coughed and spat. Grabbing the console with one hand and using the other to push up he almost collapsed as burning pain sped up his arm. He kept himself from falling and brought his other hand up. With his good hand he felt around the wrist and winced. Broken.
He watched as a DC crewman rushed up towards the upper CIC deck and extinguished a fire at the tactical station. Sparks flew from overhead and burned the back of his neck and he swatted them away.
"We were hit with a nuke, sir, on the dorsal armor!" Captain Diana Vansen shouted above the roar of klaxons. She vaulted over a downed crewmember. She rushed up and kneeled down lifted Avion by the elbow and bicep. Avion cradled his wrist. "You okay, sir?" She examined his arm quickly and she missed his nod.
Avion looked towards tactical.
"Roll us ventral. Keep our batteries firing! If we have to use missiles, use them and protect the civilian ship." His mind raced. He heard someone shout that Colonial One was gone. Not jumped away. Gone. He said a prayer. His left hand knocked the phone onto the console and he picked it up and bellowed to be put through to Pegasus.
"Gregory, thank the Gods!" Admiral Cain's voice came over the wireless. "Status?"
Avion searched for readouts and his XO shook her head as he pointed to the display of the main ventral battery.
"Main battery is down to localized control. We still have our dorsal and ventral guns under central control… um… we were hit with a nuke, a small one, sir. Casualties are heavy but we're still in this fight… venting atmosphere on the lower decks… frak, sorry, sir, but half our Raptors are stuck… elevators are out."
"I want your Raptors arm- … nukes. Once all civilian ships are away… Echo Three form-. Use of nuclear ordn- is authorized. Your prerogative, Major. Pegasus Actual Out."
Avion slammed the phone down and gritted his teeth. He knew he looked like a blood thirsty monster with teeth stained crimson red and the warm liquid dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"Firing pattern Alpha One. Pour everything we have into the closest baseships. Roll the ship and once the civilians are gone let's bare our teeth to the enemy…" he trailed off as his second relayed his orders. He looked after her, miraculously uninjured, and prayed to God they would make it through.
Helios shuddered again and his tactical officer yelled out the names of more destroyed ships. He shook his head. They weren't going to abandon the people on the planet. But they couldn't last much longer up here unless a miracle happened and the bodies were already piling up.
Raider Squadron Fifteen reports contact…. Baseship Alpha Two reports main FTL drive malfunction…. Baseship… Infiltration attempt 0-1-3-0… failure… reconfiguring electronic countermeasures…. WARNING! WARNING! Electronic intrusion attempt detected… virus detected on incoming data stream signal…
Cavil grimace and clenched his fist. He looked down into the data stream and the eyes beneath his organic pseudo-flesh pulsed a sinister red and glistened back in the liquid like rubies. He lifted his head and pounded the data stream console, denting the metal sides, and focused.
The Cynet avatar was preoccupied and Cavil was worried. The orders being relayed through him and the data he was receiving felt… sluggish, and it wasn't because of the intrusion attempt, either.
Intrusion successful- the defensive batteries onbaseships Alpha Four, Six, Eight, and Nine stopped firing- purging program… purging program… purging program… program purged… gun batteries on Alpha Seven malfunctioning… tracking missiles… diverting Raiders…
The One felt himself sour. Baseships Four, Six, Eight, and Nine formed the forward screen. Missiles from Pegasus and Galactica slammed into eight and nine and they were forced to fall back and rotate on their Y-axis as two fresh baseships took their position.
The missiles the Colonial battlestars were firing had been improved. Cylon EW should have been diverting a minimum of three quarters away with the electronic nterference… but were affecting barely a quarter. The Colonial and Guardian missiles were too fast and maneuverable. Cavil closed his eyes and saw the Earth machines staring back, taunting him. Their aide to the Colonials had increased the human's lethality… he swore to destroy them and end this travesty.
Machines helping humans…? That was unnatural.
Cavil felt satisfaction as missiles slammed into one of the Colonial freighters, a tramp freighter, and then into Colonial One. President Roslin had been an admirable opponent, a woman of amazing spirit and resilience. She had survived New Caprica with her spirit intact and a new fire in her stomach. But now she was dead. She had been consumed in the destruction of Colonial One.
That brought a smile to the Cylon's lips.
Cavil's mind watched as half a dozen ship-to-ship missiles slammed into Alpha Eight and tore loose its number two ventral pylon. The momentum of the pylon was low, and while it was only the outer half, it massed at many hundreds of thousands of tons. It 'fell' into the lower number one pylon and nicked it, which visibly shook the baseship and caused secondary explosions.
The baseship was forced to withdraw.
The radiological alarm sounded. Cavil's linked mind raced with calculations. There was a missile swarm, dozens of anti-ship missiles coming in for baseship Alpha Nine. He mentally cursed. Nearly half were equipped with EW jigger suites and DRADIS in that sector of space was erratic and fuzzy. The missiles- when he could see them on DRADIS- weren't even wavering, like his own baseship's EW was having no affect. It was like the jammers weren't working… not all of the Guardian's viruses had been purged.
Baseship Alpha Nine attempted to evade. It's gravity engines pushed it 'up' and its ventral hull slammed into half a dozen Raiders and Heavy Raiders as it attempted to dodge. Two nukes slammed into the baseship; one at the central axis and one below, ripping a huge hold along pylon two.
It wasn't a killing blow but that hardly mattered. Even if it survived it would have to be scrapped even if-
The baseship exploded as two more missiles struck. One missile, which Cavil did not want to calculate how lucky it was for the Colonials, streaked into the opened guts of the baseship from where pylon two had been blasted loose. It detonated angrily and ignited magazines.
"The Guardians. The Terminators," Cynet said to him silently over his wireless link.
"The hybrids are countering the virus," Cavil calmly replied.
"No, the hybrids are no longer reliable, Cavil. I'm countering the infiltration attempts, focus on the battle."
Cavil mentally frowned and turned back to the roaring space battle. Something dark echoed in the back of his mind as what the avatar had said about the hybrids.
He focused back on the battle and grinned in self-congratulations as a nuclear missile struck Helios and vaporized three of its ventral canons. Telescopes from the command baseship zoomed in on a moment's command and his grin grew wider as he watched bodies fly out like rag dolls into the cold of space. He considered praying that those humans had somehow survived the explosions and decompressions and were now freezing to death, scared and frightened. Completely hopeless as they were confronted with their pitiful morality and freed, he sneered, from their dirty and weak mortal coils.
Cynet stood quietly behind him.
"We're close to…"
"Look." Cynet commanded.
Cavil sneered. The baseship telescopes had been focused on Galactica and Pegasus. They watched with barely a second's short delay as one of those cursed stealth fighters, followed by a second, leapt from Galactica's launch tubes.
The resurrection ships had to be their targets. He quickly redirected Raiders to shoot down the Blackbirds.
"Kat, Gonzo, this is Galactica…," the voice of Saul Tigh sounded in the ears of the tired pilot as she taxied to the launch tube and prepared to unleash nuclear hellfire upon the Cylons.
"Go ahead, sir," Kat said into her microphone and then depressed the button. She leaned forward and flicked switches which began the pre-flight. Her board was green, the reactor was hot, and she had two multi-kiloton missiles in her missile bay.
She smiled and patted the sides of the Blackbird. She'd flown these before and sent nukes into the Cylon supply base. The memory played quickly in her mind… her leg was bouncing as she waited to taxi. She needed to be out there in the battle nailing Toasters. But she knew her job was important and probably the most important in the fleet.
Kat just hoped she be able to add a lot more kills to her impressive count. A resurrection ship had… she figured fifty to sixty thousand fresh bodies on it? Maybe ten thousand or show of the mechanical variety? She wasn't sure but however many it had, there were tens of thousands and she'd gladly let them eat her nuke missiles.
Her hands were steady and she mouthed and gestured for the launch technician to hurry. Ships and people were dying. The tactical feeds to her computers told her they'd already lost ships and Vipers. Friends. She needed to hit the resurrection ships and force the Cylons to retreat.
The Cylons had one weakness, one 'Achilles' Heel' according to the machines; resurrection. The interrogation and discussion with the captured Cylons Carter had taken from Caprica had revealed the Cylons feared death. Only through life could they do God's work.
Kat didn't know how much that had changed since the Cylon Civil War had begun. Caprica Six and Athena had been excellent sources of intelligence and had revealed much about the Cylon heriarchy and social organization. Cavil, the leader of the fleet assaulting them now, did not fear death for religious reasons, no, he feared it because it would end his life, because he could not wipe out humanity for Cynet.
Whether religiously motivated or not the Cylon feared death. By taking out the resurrection ships they had a high chance of forcing the Cylons to retreat or if they did not retreat, halt their advance.
That was just one more proof that humans would triumph in this war.
"Gods speed and good hunting, captain, lieutenant. Just jump in once you're clear of the flight pods… nothing fancy, Kat," Tigh warned her.
She frowned to herself. It wasn't like the XO to be sentimental, touchy feely, or give a warning to her. Not like him at all… and definitely not to warn pilots like that. She snorted and shook it off and flicked the ignition switch. The heavy hum and strong vibrations of the engines were satisfyingly relaxing.
The launch officer come over the com and gave her to go. She returned thumbs up and she watched from the corner of her eye as the officer smashed the red 'LAUNCH' button.
She sped down the launch tube at hundreds of kilometers per hour. Her acceleration increased to hundreds of gees and she was pushed and pinned to the back of her seat. Dampeners prevented her from blacking out. The stars approached rapidly and the gray of the launch tube vanished. Instead she was greeted by hundreds of Vipers and Raiders dancing their deadly dance.
Gonzo in the second Blackbird formed up beside her.
Two Vipers flew out from under the dorsal belly of Galactica and swatted two Raiders which had spotted her with their mark one eye ball. Or, she considered, mark one red scanner thing doodad.
She chuckled to herself and narrowed her eyes at the baseships in the distance. They were too far to see, but she could just barely see the yellow and orange explosions and dots of counter-battery fire.
Kat even saw the bright flash of a nuclear explosion and the secondaries as a baseship fell apart.
"Resurrection ships have changed location and jumped, Kat, stand by for new coordinates." Helo said over the wireless.
Kat narrowed her eyes as she fruitlessly searched for the blue-white flash. Against the star cluster, the sun, and the explosions, she gave up in mild frustration. She and Gonzo pulled down their Blackbirds into Galactica's defense zone.
The old saying that 'no plan survived contact with the enemy' scrolled through her mind like text as she waited and she groaned. They hadn't expected the resurrection ships to jump like that. Commander Cyrus (she wondered for a split second if he was alive still) had mentioned it when they attacked the supply depot. Cylon resurrection ships had begun to redeploy and jump during battle. Her console fed her data that one had jumped and then the other.
Frak. Kat knew, she just knew that they knew they had launched. Somehow they'd seen...
She slammed a palm into the side and her head on a swivel, watched for incoming fire...
"Transmitting… now!" Helo shouted. "Gods… Kat, Gonzo, jump!"
But that time to transmit new coordinates and the Blackbirds lingering… they hadn't known that the Cylons had been watching and waiting- fooled twice already by the Blackbirds they would not suffer such an embarrassment a third time. Unfortunately Galactica had been positioned- and the Cylons had been positioned- at an angle where Cylon telescopes had seen the launch…
And as she reached for the FTL button, her finger poised to press the flat red, rectangular button down, her DRADIS screamed as half a dozen missiles raced towards her and Gonzo.
Beside her half a dozen proximity explosions ripped into Gonzo's Blackbird. A shard flew at her craft and knocked the engine, igniting a fuel line and her Blackbird spun wildly out of control.
The missiles locked on her swerved, two losing lock- one swerving up and smashing into the landing pod and the second streaking down and away from the battle. The third exploded barely ten meters from her Blackbird as she reached and yanked the eject button.
Everything slowed around her as the shrapnel tore into her Blackbird, cracked the tyllium core, and ignited the fuel.
"Frak!" Hotdog heard over the wireless. "Kat's gone, Gonzo's gone!"
He fought back tears as dozens of memories began flashing before his eyes like a tribute video. Not even minutes before he failed to intercept a missile that had struck and detonated on the tissue-thin hull of Colonial One. A hundreds men and women, and gods forbid, children were dead because of him. He felt his failure build.
Everything in him had gone cold. His blood ran cold and his heart was ice. He'd felt little solace knowing the President's Raptor had survived… barely. Hundreds were dead, the government wiped out, because he couldn't stop a missile.
Hotdog's military training struggled to kick in after the enormity of his failure.
Somehow he managed to still pilot his Viper and dodge incoming fire.
His DRADIS was still sorting the debris from the remnant of Colonial One and as he pulled a hard six and fired his turbo thrusters to get back in the fight he saw the fore section of the blue and white liner as it drifted slowly towards the planet below.
Seeing that burning wreckage, gripped in the gravity of the planet below, tumbling slowly until it burned and broke apart in the atmosphere, turned something on inside of him. He would kill as many Cylon frakers as he could.
"Viper 61, align on our wing," came a cold and mechanical voice. Hotdog stuttered a look over his right shoulder as a Guardian Raider gunship pulled up beside him, followed by a second. "Cover us on our attack run," it said.
He saw a pair of Raiders and dropped his nose. He ignored the Guardian request for cover and went for the chase.
They were heading towards Gearing, one of the ships which had suffered damage to its FTL during the journey through the star cluster. Gearing was old and had been one of the ships in the fleet with Helios. The Guardians had upgraded the ship but it was approaching seventy years old. It's frame was weak and a buckled hull in the engine compartment had forced an FTL shut down and repair.
He had tone and fired one missile. Direct hit. A Cynet Raider broke apart at the wing, fell towards the planet, and exploded. A second missile had tone. He pressed the fire control button and the missile streaked out. The Raider banked and turned and spun on its axis as it pulled the hard six. Its techno-organic brain easily pulled off the maneuver, tolerated the gees, aligned its canons and belched hundreds of kinetic rounds to bathe space in an ominous stream of blue-white tracers.
They struck the missile and it exploded harmlessly.
Hotdog cursed as the Raider rolled. Gearing was right in the Raider's path, not three kilometers from it. Half way in its roll, as its tip pointed vertically, ninety degrees from firing position it spontaneously exploded.
The depressed, angered pilot, who a microsecond before had felt the fear of failure gripping at his heart once again, once again found his fight and yelped in joy as a Guardian Raider flew triumphantly through the debris field.
He keyed his com to congratulate the pilot and report Gearing was safe. Then a pair of Cynet Raiders tore into the Guardian attack craft and it vanished in a ferocious explosion at its tyllium tanks and magazines exploded.
"Frak! Gods damn you," he cursed.
His eyes quickly searched his DRADIS for Catman and Albino and the rest of his squadron, but he was separated by dozens of kilometers, Galactica behind him, and two Raiders racing towards him.
He pulled the throttle and snapped the joystick right and activated a port maneuvering thruster, jerking the Viper. Hundreds of blue glowing rounds raced by where the Viper had been a second before and without waiting for tone, just pointing a missile and praying to the gods, fired.
The missile detached, slightly jostling the Viper as they were released from their rails and maneuvered in, swerved and waited for his Viper to send the targeting data…
He jammed the turbo thrusters to full and was smashed into the back of his seat and his muscles tensed and shook. His Viper sent a stuttered and quick data burst to his missile and as it received its target package it veered up and slammed into the Raider's underbelly. It split into hundreds, thousands of pieces.
One Raider remained.
Hitting the metaphorical breaks his Viper spun as the red bloody goop of the Cylon bio-techno brain splattered on his hull.
He had the second Raider in his crosshairs. His HUD illuminated it into a translucent red. He went to guns and fired as a piece of the Raider he'd just destroyed slammed into his wingtip. His thumb jammed into the firing button and his shots went wide, missing the Raider by dozens of meters.
His Viper stuttered. His number four maneuvering thruster and his number two ventral thruster kept sputtering as he tapped the override. He saw the clouds of vapor being ejected from the thrusters and he struggled, tapping buttons, trying to reroute control… his Viper spasmed up and down and he frantically hit one button on his computer and his fingers reflexively selected the appropriate menu options and finally the thrusters ceased firing.
He breathed out and gasped for air and ripped the joystick port, knocking his Viper away from an incoming hail of kinetic rounds. His canons spat in the face of the Cynet Raider and bullets tore through the armored cockpit like wet tissue paper. His Viper was pasted with more semi-frozen Cylon goop and letting a contemptuous, guttural grunt escape his lungs, fired his turbos and thrust his Viper back into the thick of the fight.
Athena bit her lip and rolled the Raptor with an overpowered flick of her wrist. The joystick transferred her movement towards the thrusters which activated on the upper port side, pushing her starboard wing up and putting her in a port-side roll.
Her bio-Cylon eyes and brain tracked dozens of targets within visual range, calculated intercepts, and timing it just right, threw the Raptor into another evasive maneuver and narrowly avoided a proximity missile detonation.
"I think I just shit my pants, Athena!" Crashdown barked as his hands released a death grip on his console. "Firing decoys!" He yelled as two small drones popped away from the Raptor. "We've got three EW jiggers left!"
"Just shut up and jam their damn missiles, Crash!" Athena snipped. The Raptor felt like it had been smashed by a hammer and she was thrown up, momentarily weightless, out of her seat. "Frak!"
Her eyes darted to damage control warning and Crashdown moved frantically through the back cabin. Athena could hear the air being sucked out of the Raptor- which wouldn't affect them due to their helmet- but that meant they'd been hit. And she hated being shot at. And she despised being hit.
A pair of Raiders glided into her kill shot and with an evil smile and vindictive glitter in her eye whispered a curse as her finger held down the red 'fire' button. The six-barreled chain guns at the tip of the Raptor's stubby wings twirled and spat nearly half a thousand rounds of armor piercing, explosive ammunition at the Raiders.
The bullets ripped through the first and tore it in two right down the spine and she guided the Raptor up as the bullets tore through the underbelly of the second Raider and reduced it to a pulped mix of blood and gray metal.
"Covering Raptors align on me!" She squawked into her wireless. Four beeps of confirmation rung back in her ears. Her eyes dipped to her control board and she shouted back to Crash.
"We lost Raptor Seven Niner Seven!" Crash told her with a moderate hint of panic in his voice. "Oh frak… Cylon jamming is back! Trying to…"
Athena heard him cursing wildly as airframe stress from her previous maneuver opened a crack in the hatch. The whoosh-suck sound of sealant told her Crash was on the ball back in the cabin.
Four Raptors formed up on her, part of the ready alert unit from Galactica. While her pilot DRADIS was more limited than a Viper's- due to having an ECO- it showed her enough; Vipers and Raptors were forming walls and protecting the few civies still spooling and jumping out, and squadrons were swimming around the warships providing defensive fire.
Pegasus just unleashed a massive broadside at the Cylon ships of conventional warheads and EW jiggers. The EW jiggers made one missile appear to be a group of dozens, and Cylon anti-missile missiles focused in on the 'tight' group of 'missiles', allowing more of the actual warheads through.
They even made some of them appear as Viper and Raptor squadrons coming in for the attack much like New Caprica. The Cylons had their own EW but the Guardians and Terminators (and Caprica Six and Athena) had helped the Colonials adapt and find weaknesses.
Still, few made it to the Cylon fleet. Athena clenched her jaw and sucked in a deep breath as missile after missile was beaten from the vacuum. A lot made it but not enough.
Her Raptors, part of Battleaxe squadron dropped into formation and hit turbo thrusters as a pair of Vipers shot under them and dived relative to the Raptors. She wobbled the wing and saw the blur of a Viper coming out of the debris field of a Raider. Athena let herself breath, worried the explosion had taken the Viper with it.
A flash of light warned her to focus as the flak field from Helios expanded out and contact a squadron of Cylon Raiders, tearing them to pieces. She could see the damage to Helios as it vented atmosphere and as hull plates were left in its trailing ion wake. Her bio-Cylon eyes couldn't see the people who had been sucked out and killed in the vacuum, but she knew they were out there.
A trio of Raiders flew in front of the Raptors with a Heavy Raider in the center seemingly oblivious to their fatal, amateur mistake.
Her communication equipment buzzed and DRADIS fuzzed as jamming intensified.
Athena nodded to herself as the red 'warning' light flashed as the Raptor's extensive sensor suites detected and locked onto a powerful source of jamming. It was a Heavy Raider, protected by regular Raiders.
The Heavy Raiders were amazing little ships. Nowhere near as maneuverable and agile as a Raptor but far more versatile and rugged.
She fired an anti-DRADIS missile after the tone indicated it had locked onto the powerful jamming source.
The missile struck in the engine and the aft section of the Cylon craft exploded in a brief and intense ball of yellow and read. It cracked in two and each section veered away from the other. She could just barely see a black-suited pilot flailing in space before a stream of bullets from her Raptor cut him apart.
She grunted in dark contentment- she knew Cylon technology and with the Terminators, had designed better tracking systems. That meant more accurate missiles and more kills. This size of an engagement would deplete their entire store of stockpiled and modified missiles but against this many baseships and Raiders… Athena grimaced, mentally frowning at the size of the battle. They couldn't hold anything back.
Captain Kara Adama cursed and quickly said a prayer to the Lords for Kat's safety, final flight to their embrace. She'd heard Kat and Gonzo's Blackbirds take hits… her mind raced rampant with questions, angry questions, on how the Cylons had found them.
Everything seemed too much like a coincidence. The Temple. It had been a risk though and she couldn't blame them as much as a dark part of her soul wanted to. They'd warned the Fleet but the leadership had decided, collectively, to take the risk.
There was a trail of blood stretching a million lightyears back to the ruined and irradiated Colonies. She could only swear to her dead friends- and Kat, for all the animosity and rivalry had been a friend, of sorts- that she would live and remember them, their memories would live and so would they.
One day, she swore, humanity, be it in ten years or ten thousand, would return to the Twelve Colonies and rebuild their civilization. Humanity would unchain itself from its bloody conflict and build itself into glory once again.
She licked dry and cracked lips and chewed on the lower. It was a bad habit, but she needed something. She wanted to be out there in her Viper but she'd been indisposed when the Cylons had attacked. The firefight was moving so quickly Admiral Cain's orders had come to her and at first had stammered a refusal. She was the CAG! She swore she needed to be out there with her pilots, leading from the front!
But nine baseships!
Nine!
Then she didn't hold back the smirk when she heard they'd gotten one of the frakers. But eight baseships… eight! Against two battlestars and a cruiser and a Guardian baseship! Battlestars were tough and a Mercury and Colombia class could take on multiple baseships but the Cylons had jumped in Raiders so close and with a civilian fleet to guard, the battlestars were on the defensive.
Without civie ships to guard the battlestars, cruiser, and Guardian baseship would have been equal to maybe seven baseships. Kara shook herself. Whatever the number was, it didn't matter. The ferocity of the Cylon attack had thrown them into temporary confusion, forced them to cover the fleet and expose the battlestars to withering missile fire.
Under her breath she cursed. Rescue Raptors were descending towards the planet. Three Raptors full of personnel had already taken off and jumped to the emergency jump coordinates. But dozens were still down there. The Eye, the key to finding Earth (she prayed) was down there, somewhere within the Temple. They knew it was there, she'd activated it, they needed to get it, find the computer or whatever it was storing the information and evacuate!
And Lee was down there.
They had to evacuate. They couldn't leave.
And Kara Adama sucked a deep breath in until her lungs bulged and let it out slowly. The man she finally admitted she had loved and would sacrifice anything for were down there, helpless. Machines more deadly than Ares himself were his guardians, but missiles and nukes… she prayed to the gods Cynet wanted the Eye, that it would try and take it and give those she loved and cared for on the ground a fighting fraking chance.
"Captain, we're aborting the launch. Raiders are swarming over the flight pods… we're repositioning. Two minutes." Lt. Hoshi's voice calmly chimed over the crackling and static-filled wireless.
Starbuck cursed.
Data feeds were already flowing in from Pegasus and she saw the baseships and the Raiders as little bits on her DRADIS displays. She felt the hull thunder under a sustained missile strike and sparks down the launch tube as errant kinetic rounds impacted the periphery of the tube.
"Hoshi, put me through to the Admiral," she requested over the wireless. She signaled the launch technician to power down.
"What is it, Captain Adama?" the voice was hurried.
"Sir, we don't have two minutes. I need to launch now." Kara demanded. Kara's voice was firm and calm and was unpleasantly surprised at the tone the Admiral had taken. Kara could sense the apprehension. The battle must be going poorly.
"They'll shoot you down. They're firing flak rounds barely five hundred meters out and their Raiders are swarming us, Captain, waiting for our Blackbirds-"
The resurrection ships had jumped on seeing the Blackbirds launch, which meant Cynet telescopes were observing their movements. Kara figured as much, it's what she'd have done to track a DRADIS-invisible ship.
"Evacuate this section of the deck…" Cain started to protest Starbuck's order. "Trust me, Admiral!"
"Uh, Starbuck…" Narcho said over the wireless. He was in the adjacent tube and had been listening to the conversation. He knew Starbuck was planning something.
Kara prayed to the gods and looked over at the technician whose eyes were about as big and bright as the sun out there. He frantically shook his head but Kara urged him out with a knife-like finger point to exit.
The Blackbirds were kept near the ends of the flight deck and isolated from other Vipers. They were valuable and difficult to produce and they wanted no accidents.
Less than a minute later she received the go.
"All clear. Gods watch over you, Starbuck," Admiral Cain said. Kara knew the Admiral knew what she was planning.
"Set tube launch for ten seconds, captain," Starbuck chirped into her wireless to the LSO. He acknowledged. "Narcho, set FTL to engage in eleven seconds."
"Frak…" Narcho, drawing out the word, cursed.
Both pilot spooled their drives. At ten seconds they were catapulted down the two. Thirty meters from exiting the tube their FTL drives engaged while still in the pod.
Admiral Cain braced herself as her cool brown eyes tracked a pair of Raiders on suicide runs. Her fingers dug into the console, bleaching her knuckle white, as Raiders slammed into the central dorsal plating of Pegasus. Defensive batteries and Vipers in air defense screens were doing wonders protecting the ship. But even barely ten minutes had passed by and Pegasus had suffered more damage than it had at New Caprica. She knew her ship couldn't take this.
Even after the damage repaired from Scorpion, thanks to the Guardians, this beating Pegasus was taking was extreme. She was in the center of the lines, presenting her heavily armed dorsal aspect to the Cylons. Due to her nature as an advanced battlestar her guns relied more on missiles than kinetic rounds, which allowed the turrets to be placed on the central band. Even without line of sight, all her guns were blazing, and missile swarmed over and under Pegasus and then curved around to race towards the Cylons.
"We need to hit their resurrection ships," she told Captain Shaw, who had been manning the defenses, she considered, wonderfully. Her head swung over to Lt. Hoshi. "Mr. Hoshi-"
She grabbed the secondary tactical station and steadied herself. For a moment she thought her knees would buckle and she'd plant her face into the deck, but luckily Shaw caught her. She nodded a curt thanks and brushed off the debris.
Across from her a pane of ballistic glass in the CIC doors fractured under the stress.
"Mr. Hoshi, do you have coordinates for the resurrection ships?"
"Um…" he looked up and back down and frowned. He winced and his fingers went to work at his console. "I'm pinpointing their locations… they jumped when they detected the Galactica Blackbirds, sir," he reported.
The resurrection ships were the jugular of the fleet. Cain had heard the terminators describe them as the 'Achilles Heel' of the Cynet fleet. Destroy the resurrection ships and there was high probability the Cylons would jump away.
The lagged footage from the Battle of the Lion's Head Nebula had shown how savagely the Cynet forces struck at the rebel Cylon resurrection ships. And a part of Cain regretted not actively seeking out the rebels. They could have used them now even if she didn't trust them.
"Picking up more contacts! Four heavy raiders heading towards the planet!" Shaw shouted.
The Admiral held her breath and groaned a curse. Heavy Raiders held ten to twenty Centurions a piece and a skinjob pilot. She had Marines on the planet, heavily armed, but maybe a dozen. The machines on planet could handle Centurions hand-to-hand, but she had a nagging suspicion that Cynet was coming prepared for this.
Most of the Guardians had been recalled over the last two days… and the Temple was too far from the secondary and primary algae processing stations… even if the Centurions ran, the terrain was rough with valleys and rivers separating them… she slammed the hilt of her razor into the command console.
"Mr. Hoshi, the resurrection ships- now!" She yelled at him.
"I have them, sir!" Lt. Hoshi yelled simultaneously. "I've got it!" He repeated excitedly.
Cain ordered Shaw to standby and send Vipers after the Heavy Raiders. Under her breath and looking down at Shaw's detailed tactical display she saw a few civie ships still here, still spooling their engines.
They were costing her lives, Vipers, and Raptors, and more anti-missile missiles and flak rounds that she wanted to spare. With the civie ships still here Pegasus Vipers were diverted away from striking back at the Cylons and locked into tight defensive patterns to run intercept on missiles and Raiders.
She inwardly shook her head and physically punched her thigh. Cynet had come in and fired so quickly… but their first strike had been erratic. They had seen the fleet and fired and less than a quarter of their missiles had full target packages loaded. Colonial electronic countermeasures had jammed, she guessed, at least half, and that left only a quarter for easy pickings.
But still.
They had lost over five hundred people and Viper and Raptor casualties were mounting. A Q ship was gone and Helios had taken a nuke and was heavily damaged.
The butcher's bill was still being tallied as more of her pilots and more of her crew shed their blood and were killed. Their courage forced them forward against overwhelming odds and their loyalty commanded them to stay and fight as they evacuated the planet.
Starbuck came on the horn and informed the Admiral of the plan she had.
Across the CIC Kendra Shaw listened with uneasely at what Admiral Cain was implying. She breathed in and out quickly but calmed herself and kept herself focused. There was a hole in the defense screen and she signaled for Vipers 104, 107, and 112 to cover the hole. Two guns on the port side were down and half the guns on the alligator head of the battlestar were reduced to local computer control. More missiles were getting through.
Point defense canons were still under central command. Soto was hooked in and using her incredibly powerful neural net to increase their effectiveness.
The Guardians had sent a bursted data transmission that they'd successfully infiltrated Cylon computers which had let them get their nukes in. But it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough.
Captain Shaw's eyes chased more DRADIS contacts and focused down on the Heavy Raider blip approaching the planet. She knew they should jump away. They should set a broadside, load it with anti-ship nukes, and target the Temple. But they wouldn't. Not yet.
And she didn't want that, either.
Shaw felt her hair damp from sweat and nervousness and felt frustrated she couldn't do more, couldn't be out there in a Viper and blasting Toasters from the sky. Her chest was sweating and she suddenly felt cold and her skin turned Goose bumps. She leaned back and glanced at the secondary tactical station at Lt. Haver's console. He looked back at her and they nodded to each other. She leaned forward to see his read outs and saw the rescue Raptors were still flying towards the planet.
There was a time stamp for ETA at the Temple site, but it was too long. The Heavy Raiders would get there first.
Captain Shaw heard the Admiral's voice boom. "All hands, brace yourselves."
The ship shuttered violently as two Blackbirds jumped from the port-side launch bays. Lights flickered and more ballistic glass on the CIC doors shattered. Shaw strained with tense muscles to keep her balance. She shot a concerned look behind her when the rumbles stopped to check the Admiral. Her attention was thrown back to her console as it began blasting warning sounds and flashing ruby red warning lights.
Hotdog came about and fired on more Raiders. There were more than he could count, more than he wanted to count. It was his fifth, or his sixth, maybe his seventh? He blinked away the uncertainty and told himself it didn't matter what number he was on. For all intents and purposes this Raider-and the Raiders within weapons range… and the missiles from the baseships… and all the flak… he cursed and just reminded himself everything matter- this Raider mattered right now more than any other.
He brought his nose up ten degrees and banked to starboard and his index finger held his gun trigger steadily into the joystick. He felt four, five, six gees and his legs and knees tensed, but held, under the forces. He kept his foot locked on the pedal and his eyes fixed, but scanning, on the Raider.
The Vigilantes and Primus squadrons from Galactica had pushed a lot of the Raiders from 'inside' the fleet formation towards the relative periphery and into the kill zones of the mighty battlestars and cruiser. Some Raiders had pocketed the old Colonial ships which still struggled to jump- Selene jumped followed by Orion- but they'd been… to Hotdog… lucky.
Selene and Orion had been a liner and a freighter, respectively, and had been racked by Raider fire. Fortunately the liner was a deep space transport, former military, and had armored tyllium tanks and redundant safeties. Selene had jumped away, even if it had been venting atmosphere and left behind a thick cloud of debris. Orion had been hit in the cargo hold and had belched its contents, but had jumped. Hotdog had only seen a relative handful of unlucky crewmen sucked out into space as they flailed in the vacuum and their bodies shut down.
His helmet HUD flashed red again and he fired, but before his bullets could reach out and swat the Raider from the battlefield it spun ninety degrees on its axis and the bullets whizzed by as its silhouette profile change. Hotdog sneered at this tricky Raider.
"Some trained dog," he whispered as he recalled how Boomer and Athena had described the Raiders.
The Raider rapidly changed orientation and Hotdog swore their favorite new move was the hard six. His mind registered the maneuver half a second in. His finger pressed the trigger seven-tenths of a second later. His canons received the electrical impulse, whirled, and fired not a tenth of a second after that. The bullets rapidly sped off and slammed one after the other into the Raider and the kinetic energy overwhelmed the craft and pushed it down, presenting its entire ventral surface. Dozens of armor piercing, high explosive rounds struck armor, penetrated, and exploded inside.
"Nice shooting, Hotdog," Catman came over the wireless. "Raider going after Picon 36 you're closest so go after the- HOTDOG!"
Hotdog had been smirking at his latest kill but he put on the hard face of a fighter pilot as he switched focus to go after a Raider aiming for Picon 36. With hundreds of Raiders in the battle it was impossible for a human pilot to keep track of them all. DRADIS had them. But he was human; information overload. As good as Hotdog was, it only took one lucky shot. Half a dozen lucky shots stuttered across his Viper cockpit, painting it in his blood.
Picon 36 exploded and followed its would-be savior into the embrace of the Lords of Kobol.
Kara felt lightheaded and wanted to vomit. She'd rarely felt this sick after jumping and hacked as the pressure in her chest swelled. Frantically, furiously, and angrily her dark and bloodshot eyes searched the space around her for the Resurrection ships.
The CAG didn't even want to think of the damage she'd done to the ship with her and Narcho's stunt.
She tapped the thrusters and she spun. Her Starbuck grin washed over her face and her lips widened into a bright, toothy smile wide enough to almost crack her face in two. They were right above the resurrection ships by only a handful of kilometers. The sharp angled towers- signal receivers- of the resurrection ships were little pin points which splayed outward. The translucent tube housing the bodies of bio-Cylons was illuminated by powerful running lights which gave the awkward, strange impression this wasn't a ship, but a shrine or cathedral floating in space.
Her attention diverted from its majesty as her DRADIS beeped warnings. Her eyes locked on the signals and then caught the faint glow of thrusters as fifty Raiders and two dozen Heavy Raiders plowed and circled between the gargantuan vessels. The mission clock on her side display began counting down.
Starbuck tapped a silent, laser communication to Narcho and he acknowledged. No doubt the Raiders would be coming after them.
She pressed the arming button. No time to waste.
She pressed the fire button for the missiles.
She felt the bay doors open, vibrating under her seat as their motors whirled. She felt her Blackbird bounce up has the missile studs 'pushed' the missiles out of the bay. Then they ignited. Their miniature tyllium engines were the most powerful, the best Colonial-Guardian-Terminator technical expertise could achieve. They even had a small electronic countermeasures packet.
She looked next to her and Narcho flickered out of existence as his Blackbird jumped back to the fleet, to Pegasus. Starbuck stayed just an extra second to watch the bright sun form under the nose of her stealth ship and consume the two resurrection ships before jumping away.
The Battleaxe squadron reformed as remnants from the Vigilantes cruised in above and below. The Viper squadron had originally been packed full of nuggets after the death of so many pilots on the flight deck shortly after the Holocaust but after years of fighting were battle hardened and courageous.
Athena felt a deep loss as the report of Hotdog's death was sounded over the wireless. He was one more to add to dozens of pilots already killed and hundreds, thousands already lost to the Cylons. The Vigilantes had lost Kat and Hotdog mere minutes apart. Four of their fifteen Vipers were destroyed but one pilot had managed to eject. The Cylon pilot prayed to God that the SAR Raptor would be able to recover some of the pilots.
"Athena pull up the squadron," Captain Birch ordered over the wireless.
Athena clicked a reply and the Battleaxes swooped up as the Viper's broke off. Scores of missiles leapt from the side pods and darted up and down and left and right as they evaded Raider fire and scored hits on dozens of Raiders.
Raptors, the 'school buses' of the Fleet were deadly beasts. With missile pods on the cabin and chain guns and missiles on the wings they could kill dozens of Raiders before running out of ammunition.
A grisly frozen rain of red blood splashed into the Raptors as they closed and flew through and the overshot the Raiders. Vipers pulled back and around and opened with their guns as Raiders desperately attempted to turn and present their guns to the Colonial craft.
Thirteen minutes into the engagement Vipers were in desperate need of rearmament. Her own Raptors were running low on missiles. Her racks were reduced to semi-guided rockets and the chain guns on her wing-tips barely had a thousand rounds each. She double-checked with a quick eye jerk down to the central control console and winced. A green, blocky numbered indicated her ammunition count was far worse; 724.
She thumbed the fire button as a Heavy Raider pounced from above and swung the Raptor ninety degrees to put her on her 'side' relative to the Heavy Raider. Both chain guns activated but only the port gun's bullets made contact with the nose and belly of the Cylon attack craft.
The two swerved by each other close enough for Athena to see- with the help of her enhanced eyesight- the underside of the Heavy Raider get chewed up by her gun fire. Chunks of metal were flung off into space and the Heavy Raider began trailing tyllium fuel. It veered off, dropped its nose and banked then killed its thrusters as it attempted to limp back towards the Cylon baseships.
"Holy shit!" Crashdown yelled. "Radiological alarms are going crazy!"
"Oh frak!" Athena cursed as her eyes skimmed her DRADIS to lock onto nuclear missiles.
A Guardian Raider shot by barely two hundred meters in front of her cockpit on the trail of a limping Cylon Raider and she cursed as her hand jerk the Raptor.
Then she saw the flash, pinpoints really, off in the distance as a bright white light spewed magnificent illumination over the black, empty desolation of space itself. She pumped a fist as that silent tickle of worry in the back of her mind finally went silent. Cylons always knew when a resurrection ship was nearby and her smile was anything but awkward as she realized they'd managed to take out the only resurrection ships in the Cynet fleet.
"They got the frakers!" She whooped and excitedly turned back to her ECO. He smiled and nodded furiously before turning back.
"Resurrection ships destroyed," the voice of Colonel Tigh popped up over the wireless. "…repeat… Galactica has been boarded by Cylon forces… repeat, Galactica-"
"…frak…" Athena whispered.
Commander Thais stood confidently in the command center of his shaking baseships. Reports rushed over the Guardian data stream:
Gunships Alpha Eighteen, Nineteen, Thirty-seven, Thirty-eight, Forty, Fifty-two destroyed… Raider Squadron One combat ineffective… Raider Squadron… heavy damage to ventral pylon stub two… port missile battery three destroyed… infiltration attempt 1-5-3-1 defeated… infiltration attempt 1-5-3-2 detected…
"Galactica has sustained heavy damage…" he heard over a dedicated link to his liaison officers.
"Helios has sustained heavy damage…" the liaison officer aboard the cruiser reported. "Major Avion is seriously wounded…"
Thais said a prayer for the humans who had lost their lives. His attention then split to a thousand different pin points in the vast web of interconnectedness which was the Guardian data stream. A part of his consciousness was monitoring each gunship and each Raider as it danced dangerously with its Cynet counterpart. He could watch each missile his ship fired as they swatted away Raiders and incoming Cynet missiles or they themselves were annihilated from the field of battle.
Enough of his consciousness was free to concentrate on fleet maneuvers and with the other AIs in the ships, had already located potential weaknesses in Cylon formations and sent his Raiders and Gunships to kill his errant brothers.
The baseship shuddered once again as one of his Raiders in air defense formation lost control after being caught in the withering fire of a Cynet Raider and slammed into the central axis connecting the small ventral portion of the baseship to its large, arrowhead shaped dorsal hull.
He focused a telescope on a small pursuit the Colonials had no chance of aiding if his Raiders failed. They'd accelerated to gees which would crush a Colonial pilot, even with compensators, and were entering weapons range.
Thais could see the fire sweeping the single-wing Guardian Raiders and pummeling over the bow of the Heavy Raiders as they raced through the atmosphere of the aptly named 'Algae Planet.'
A small part of him could even feel the vibrations of his Raiders' canons as they opened fired and angrily spat hundreds of burning, armor piercing, and high explosive ammunition at the heavy Raiders in front of them.
Three Raiders and four Heavy Raiders. He had the maneuverability advantage but they had the firepower and durability advantage. The attack force's lead Raider spewed round after round into the Heavy Raider closest to the Guardian craft but it stubbornly refused to exploded.
Then Thais would have smiled if he had time, but the battle was moving so quickly, and he was in his gold armored Centurion body, he had no mouth even if he wanted to.
The first rearmost Heavy Raider began coming steadily apart as two Raiders opened fire on it. One of the many fragments of his consciousness simultaneously checked the status of his fleet. After seventeen minutes there were precious few Raiders or gunships with missiles and these three Raiders had none.
The Heavy Raider exploded in the upper atmosphere.
The remaining Heavy Raider and Guardian pursuit Raiders descended through a thick cloud layer but DRADIS kept them painted. One braked and turned and fired at the three Raiders as his fighters threw themselves into evasive action and-
"Galactica has been boarded," Captain Lexi reported.
"How many?"
"Unk-"
Massive interference emanating from within Galactica cut off communication.
-one of his Raiders exploded under a willowing hail of bullets from the Heavy Raider's six front mounted chain canons. One of the remaining two Raiders had time to sweep up from under and annihilate that Cynet Heavy Raider but the trap had been sprung. Cynet sacrificed that craft and the Centurions aboard for the bigger picture; it always played for keeps. The other two Cynet transport/gunships turned and fired into the distracted Guardian craft. One of his fighters seemed to stutter and stall mid-air and then spontaneously exploded and sent a large part of its wing spiraling towards the ground and other debris raining through the atmosphere. The second was hit and trailing smoke but the crew regained control.
The remaining Raider fired point blank into the oncoming Heavy Raider and tore through its cockpit. It dodged the debris and opened fire and sprayed its guns at the two in front. Thais felt something, pride perhaps, in the exemplarily gunnery of his craft.
The two Heavy Raiders which had attempted to evade exploded as bullets ripped at them and tore into their hulls. The Guardian Raider then turned as the last remaining Heavy Raider fell in pursuit. It hit the aero-brakes and part of the powerful thrust from the rear engines were directed forward. The atmosphere puffed and clouds of white gas shot the Raider around towards its Cynet enemy.
Commander Thais saw his Raider shake and bullets smack the wing but the Heavy Raider overshot it.
The starboard engine on the Raider ignited but a two point one second burst of chain gun fire tore into the underbelly of the Cylon transport before the bullets gutted the engines. Debris and armor rained down and both craft exploded. Due to their proximity the fireball was magnificently grand.
As the Commander closed that window he said a prayer for the pilots. He looked down and his metal hand was balled.
Nuclear detonations detected… resurrection ships destroyed… Cynet forces… retreating… blared over the data stream. Thousands of Guardian machines breathed a relative sign of electronic relief as Raiders began retreating…
The battle still raged as Raiders were forced to engage Vipers, Raptors, and Guardian gunships and fighters. He saw the battlefield, millions of cubic kilometers littered with debris. The broken hulk of a Colonial cruise liner drifted silently in space. He imagined a small pop sound as part of the forward section of… Picon 36 exploded and blew out of the cockpit…
His mind raced as it processed the changing battlefield conditions. His Raiders and Gunships needed to rearm. There were dozens of hull breeches his Centurions needed to repair.
Minutes passed by. Commander Thais was perfectly still as he stood in the CIC of the Guardian warship. Linked in, he had no reason to move, no need to verbalize his commands. Even Iblis, there in the CIC watching, was 'quiet' and still.
Some minutes later his roving crimson eye stopped as a message was dumped into his MCP data processing nodes:
Radiological alarm… Pegasus opening nuclear planetary strike silos….
President Roslin was shaken and battered and her breath was uneven and stuttered. It was shallow and she felt light headed. There were bruises all over her body, her back was burning with pain, and her ribs were undoubtedly bruised from the Raptor ride.
Her hand reached out and the dark-skinned hand of her aide, Tory Foster, grabbed her elbow. The quick reactions of the President's former campaign manager kept her from collapsing onto the deck of the CIC of Pegasus.
"Madam President it is good to see you alive," Admiral Cain managed to plainly state in the midst of battle. "We took out the resurrection ships." She pointed to DRADIS. "We're taking a hell of a beating, sir."
Roslin felt herself weightless, hanging in the air, the battle nothing more than a surreal… dream, nightmare. She couldn't stop her chest constricting as the death of Billy Kreikeya flooded over her once again. Tory ushered her to the side of CIC and had her lean against the bulkhead. The young woman bent down and looked her president in the eye.
She yelled something to the Marine guard to get the President some water, to get a medic up here, but Roslin waved it away and dismissed the suggestion. Her eyes hurt… one of her glasses lenses were shattered.
The President's hand, shaking, took them off and gripped them tightly in her hand. Tory somehow wrestled them from her control.
"It was quick, Madam President." She said. Tory mentally grimaced and dared bite her tongue as the ship shook and wavered as missiles struck and pecked at its armor plates.
"I… I…" she stuttered. "So many deaths…" she locked her eyes shut and pushed Tory away and wiped the tears. Roslin took back her glasses and once again holding them saw the single lens and black frame stained with a streak of dried blood in the corner and she frantically padded them to wipe off the blood.
Tory grabbed her hands and stilled her and then gently took the glasses and cleaned them with a shirt covered in sweat, grime, and blood. Laura looked up and saw the blood still trickling down a cut in Tory's forehead and saw her aide wince as she moved her hand to clean her glances. She smiled appreciation when Tory handed them back.
"Tory, are you okay?" Roslin asked as she found herself. The cries of a dying crew member, burned and scalded in the corner of CIC rung loudly in her ears. There are others besides me, she told herself.
"I'm fine… flesh wound," Tory said with a half-hearted smile. She coughed and wiped her forehead, smearing the blood across her cheek.
"Madam President!" She heard. It was Cain. "The Raiders are pulling back from the attack."
Roslin pushed off from the wall and balanced herself.
She dared a cough as the smoke overwhelmed the air scrubbers and filled her lungs.
Cain's head snapped towards the left side of the CIC. "Mr. Hoshi. Recall our Vipers and Raptors by priority. I want them refueled and rearmed immediately."
"How many ships…?" Roslin asked, walking carefully up besides the Admiral.
"Astral Queen… Colonial One…" Roslin couldn't listen to the rest of the names. There was a pause and Cain continued. "Madam President… current estimates are over fifteen hundred dead minimum." Admiral Cain sourly, quietly said with bowed her. She was watching readouts scroll on her command screen though to Roslin it seemed like she was being reverent. "Helios is heavily damaged and Galactica has been boarded-" Cain saw the flash of utter horror as the memory of the past boarding action lighted Roslin's face "-but Commander Thais has Centurions en route and we have Marine combat teams-"
"Sir!" Mr. Hoshi yelled out. "We're receiving a transmission, sir… from the Cylons…"
Admiral Cain and Roslin exchanged looks of bafflement. Cain's eyebrow cocked up in morbid curiosity… maybe the Cynet frakers were turning yellow. Maybe they were too afraid to die and were cowards. The Admiral rolled her eyes and inwardly grinned at the thought. The Cylons were cowards. The entire attack on the Colonies proved it and without their precious resurrection none of them wanted to die.
"Blackbirds re-entering the flight pods," Shaw reported.
"Very well, Mr. Hoshi… get Starbuck and Narcho into Vipers just in case. I want everything reloaded and get FTL coordinates for tactical jumps above the Cylon ships if we have to." Cain nodded to herself and pulled at her tunic and flattened it. She fingered her pistol and then nodded back to the Captain. "… put it on speakers."
"Admiral…"
"Who are you?" Cain asked. Everyone knew the voice of John Cavil. This was not John Cavil. The voice was deep, confident, and completely devoid of the patronizing tones the Number One bio-Cylon spoke in. It wasn't mechanical, it wasn't human, but a mix of the two.
"You know who I am," it said. "You have something and someone I want. Give them to me and you may live."
Cain barred her teeth at the ceiling and DRADIS displays angrily. Shaw walked over and whispered into her ear.
"I don't know what you're talking about…" Cain trailed off. She hit the mute on the microphone and turned to Shaw. "I want options for long range nuclear strikes on their fleet!" She hissed.
Her eyes, stained with the death the Cylons had inflicted and darkened by rage tracked eight Heavy Raiders swarming low for the planet on DRADIS. Vipers couldn't intercept them in time.
"I can destroy you easily," it boomed over the speakers. "Give me Daniel and the Earth machines."
Cain surveyed her command crew briefly. The officers and the Terminator at her station were all standing. Soto walked over and the hatred and fire that glittered in those hard eyes could have rivaled Cain's.
"We just destroyed your capability to resurrect in this battle and destroyed one of your ships. They're dead. We're still here." Admiral Cain definitely responded. Roslin shot her a look. "We haven't begun to fight."
"Exactly. You are still here. And your civilian ships are gone. I know you found it. Give me the Temple and give me Daniel and the Earth machines and you can leave. Stop your quest for Earth immediately. Return to the Colonies and you can live out your lives. My fight is not with you unless you continue."
Admiral Cain closed her eyes and thought. Three years ago she would have cut her losses but now… she felt the tug of war within her as her darker side pulled hard at her soul and yanked it towards that dark abyss.
"Your fight is not with us?" she asked. Her eye ticked. "Not with us?" she repeated, the words almost burning her throat. "You destroyed our world. You murdered our civilization. You have hunted us and tortured us across thousands of light years. You are death… but you're right. I can end it now." Cain agreed. She typed in a command and sent it to navigation. The battlestar rolled subtly and moved closer towards the planet.
"You can have peace." It said.
DRADIS beeped as a dozen Heavy Raiders appeared to be moving towards the planet.
The Admiral hit the button to cut the feed to the speakers and lifted her phone…
"Peace?" Cavil sneered.
The robotic Cynet avatar cared nothing for his outburst.
"Our resurrection ships are destroyed and our baseships lack the capacity to resurrect the fleet… despite what you may condone, I won't sacrifice my fleet… not at the moment, at least. Not with the rebels out there."
"Acceptable loses-" Cavil began.
"I am fully aware what war requires, Cavil." Cynet said. The conversation had lasted barely half a second.
"We can take them and end them all now…" he paused for a microsecond. "You're dispatching Heavy Raiders…" The radiological alarms blared through the minds of all the command Cylons.
…Roslin whispered. "What are you planning?"
"Captain Shaw!" She barked, ignoring the president. "This is a nuclear launch order. Open ALL nuclear launch tubes. Target the Temple for ground zero."
She looked at Soto and the machine gave her silent approval.
Cain held the machine's eyes for a moment, but it stepped back. Undoubtedly the female machine had run this scenario through its neural net thousands, millions of times in the span of a few short seconds. Even with two battlestars, a cruiser, and the Guardians the odds were in Cynet's favor. It outnumbered the Colonials in Raiders heavily and reinforcements may be on the way.
Cain knew that Soto knew the Temple could not all into the clutches of Cynet. Not after what they'd seen the first day when Starbuck had activated it. If it did lead to Earth Cynet could not have it. John, Carter, Daniel, Erica, RC, Apollo, and everyone else on the planet would be sacrificed to keep that secret.
"Are you prepared to do this?" Roslin asked, voice shaking. She looked at Soto when she saw the resolve in Cain's eyes. "Are you prepared to see them die?" She asked the machine. Roslin might have been hoping for the unstoppable killing machine to intervene, but it did nothing. It just stood there and Roslin felt impotent in her fear.
Soto's pseudo-muscles in her eyes moved so subtly but there was no misinterpreting what the female machine was prepared to do. This was her life, her existence. She and Carter and John had fought side by side for over three decades. But they were machines. She was built to kill. John and Carter were built to kill. They were born in nuclear fire. It was almost fitting, maybe even poetic, for them to be taken back in such a manner.
Cain covered the phone's receiver with her hand. "Can you communicate with them?" She asked the machine.
She shook her head. "No. The jamming is intense." She paused. "We all know the risks, Admiral. We're Terminators, machines, we know our duty to Earth."
The Admiral nodded shallowly and focused on the President. "We can't let them have Earth… they won't give us peace. I'm going to nuke the temple from orbit." Her eyes darkened. They glowed with a dark fire. "It's the only way to be sure."
"Are you prepared to sacrifice-"
"Absolutely."
Cain slammed the button to turn the receiver on. She grabbed the thin metal cord and pressed it between hand and hand piece. She held up the receiver centimeters from her mouth.
"What are you doing Admiral-"
"Withdraw your Heavy Raiders or I will nuke the planet."
The wireless burped static.
Admiral Cain felt the fire growing. "You will stand down. Or I will nuke the planet. You will have nothing. Know this: we will not stop, we will not yield. If you dare move closer to the planet we will destroy it. You will never find Earth. All you will know is the taste of bitter defeat. We have fought you outnumbered and outgunned… we have stood victorious and defiant for a million light years. For years we have evaded you, hunted you, and killed you. We will not stop killing you… our imperative is war… and your complete and utter total annihilation. You will stand down."
She saw the red circles move closer and closer to the planet… the words in her mouth began to form as the nuclear launch bays were opened, the targeting packages loaded, and hundreds of megatons of nuclear ordnance were prepared.
Admiral Cain reached in under her collar. Her hand brushed the scars on her neck and chest and she wrapped her fingers around the silver chain which hung around her neck. She pulled it out and let it rest on her chest.
She walked to the planetary strike console and pressed her hand onto the scanner. Her other hand reached up to remove her launch key.
"Mr. Hoshi, prepare-"
The Heavy Raiders turned back as she wet her lips and prepared to give the order. She closed her eyes and thanked the gods.
Unknown to the fleet Heavy Raiders had already landed on the planet in the confusion of the opening battle. And with the Cylons jamming so intense, they had no idea what had materialized in the temple. They had no idea that they had been granted a second chance to stop the Cylons from finding and wiping out every living man, woman, child, and machine on Earth.