|||||||||=====In orbit of the Algae Planet=====|||||
"The Cylon fleet is… they're pulling out… what the frak?" Mr. Gaeta perplexedly frowned at the DRADIS and tapped a few of the dirtied buttons. He ran a sweaty palm through even wetter hair and breathed out as his mind caught up with his eyes. His DRADIS screen was smeared with grime and debris and he wiped it away, brushing the pieces of glass and plastic onto the deck. "They pulling back…?" He said, half a statement, half a question.
"That's great," Tigh said through a furious cough. His fist pounded the cracked data console and its lights strobe before stuttering off. "That's great but we have fraking Cylons on board!" He sneered, a spot of blood-red spittle ejecting onto the deck. "Helo!" His head twisted towards the sound of his second yelling back. "What do we have?" He stepped over debris and kneeled to help a wounded crewman.
"Helo," Adama said, splitting his focus,, "start coordinating Marine fast response teams and set up a command post at tactical. You'll need to use portable wireless-"
"Sir… I'm picking up radiological alarms… Pegasus is opening their nuclear silos-" Gaeta said slowly.
"Why the hell would they do that?" Tigh asked, looking up from the wounded crewman and handing him off to a pair of medics.
"Message coming in on the laser com relay, Commander," Gaeta quickly informed Adama. He pointed the aged and battle-bruised Commander towards Dee and turned to work on his own problems which numbered in the dozens.
Adama looked over and saw a hard, distracted face. She was keying something into her keyboard as Adama half jogged, half stalked over. "Petty Officer…" she looked up at him and he couldn't resist the large, hazel doe eyes staring back at him, "The President was on her way here… there's a chance he's still alive…" he tried to comfort her, "…that he was on the Raptor with her to Pegasus." He leaned down and grabbed her shoulder, not hard or menacingly, but forcefully as her superior officer to snap the young communications tech back to her duty. The young woman swatted away a small tear threatening to roll down her cheek and nodded. "What's the lascom from Pegasus say, Petty Officer."
Dee sniffed and wiped at her nose with the end of her long-sleeve jacket. The jacket was covered in grime and sweat and dotted with small patches of blood; her blood and others. She tapped the necessary keys- and had to hit one extra hard that was probably damaged during the attack and stuck- and reached to her right and took out the printer copy.
Half the stations in CIC were gutted with DC crewman crawling on their backs and stomachs pulling wires, replacing damaged components, and just trying to get a handle on the charred mess of the battlestar's CIC.
She handed Adama a slip of octagonal, cream-colored paper. It read: "To Galactica: Contacted by Cynet and given ultimatum to hand over Daniel, the Terminators, and the Eye of Jupiter. Pegasus Actual has determined the Eye to be of strategic importance." Adama looked over his shoulder and held the paper at an angle so Tigh, now behind him, could read with him. He heard a low, throaty groan from his XO as they read. "Once Centurion boarding parties are repelled move to navigation point- Pegasus relative- 003, 041, 01 carrim 053 to target planetary strike nuclear weapons on the Temple. Galactica will hold fire unless Pegasus launches. Do not wait for confirmation. End message."
Adama handed the message to his XO, who read it just one more time to be sure and then Tigh balled the paper and threw it to Dee's feet. "Petty Officer," Adama said in a strained voice, "begin reply: To Pegasus: Galactica Actual acknowledges message and upon successful repulsion of Centurion boarding parties will move to indicated position and target the Temple with planetary strike nuclear missiles. End message." He closed his eyes as Dee finished typing in the last message, read it back to him, and inwardly shuttered as he nodded his head. The rage inside him was building; he was expected to kill his own son. Outwardly he remained the calm and composed commander his crew needed.
He wasn't a man who smiled, and he didn't towards Dee. But a look from her commander and she nodded, her silence and her eyes telling him she was committed to her duties, the tragedy of Colonial One's loss temporarily boxed and put aside as a professional sailor was expected to do in times of tragedy.
He focused himself back to the fight. There were tens of thousands of people counting on him, tens of thousands who had lost their entire family and even right in front of him, a petty officer who may have lost the man she loved minutes before.
The second message handed him was brief but detailing that Raptors with Marine fire teams, Soto, and Guardian craft were incoming to repel the Centurions.
He ran his hands through his own dirty hair and wiped a smug of oil and grime from his cheek. The message paper fluttered down to the deck, to be trampled by corpsmen as they maneuvered the wounded around CIC.
"I need reports on our response teams!" He called out.
The Colonel sniffed the air and his eyes scanned the tattered CIC. There was a distinguishable burning smell which hung defiantly in the air as overtaxed scrubbers strained to cleanse the air. There were half a dozen of the dozens of CIC personnel on stretchers or being tended to. The Cylon frakers, Saul Tigh thought, had hit them hard and fast and no one could have seen them coming… Tigh then went taut and threw back his shoulders. He balled a fist and tapped it on the outside of his thigh and clicked his teeth.
"Major Agathon! Update on counter-boarding actions!" Tigh bellowed.
Helo handed off a wounded crewman to a medic, nodded to the young woman he was tending to she'd be alright, and pushed back a conduit which had fallen loose from the ceiling.
Tigh held back a grimace at the blood drenching his left sleeve- not his blood- and the colonel rocked on his toes and frowned when he saw the young face of Petty Officer Third Class Mira Franz, part of Lieutenant Susan Yu's atrogation division, cut open from one side of the forehead to the other. He assumed she must have fallen during one of the missile strikes and been killed by the force of her fall.
Her eyes stared up, hallow. Tigh bent down, swallowed, and held out a balled hand which slowly opened. He ran it across her face, closing her eyes.
Major Agathon stepped up beside the colonel coughed and palmed the command console. He frowned down at it and looked back up, searching for a DC crewman who was available to fix it, or do something. He tapped on it again and it whirred, flickered, but died again, finally getting the old relic to flutter back to life with a hand open-palm strike.
The illuminated command console was dotted with little windows for different ship functions and Helo began tapping at the screen's selection buttons, pulling up menus and diagrams of the ship.
Helo tapped a set of keys on the command console and the map of Galactica flashed on the screen. Small orange circle, pulsing, illuminated where the crew believed the Cylons were.
"How bad is it?" Adama asked, stepping up beside the tac officer.
"It looks like maybe only one Heavy Raider got in, Bill," Tigh said with concern. "But still…" he trailed off with a shake of the head as his eyes moved up and down the diagram of Galactica displayed on the board.
"…reports of two Cylons on the forward pylon connecting the starboard landing pod to the main hull." Helo pointed. "There's another three somewhere roaming the pod…" He turned and grabbed a sheet of paper. "There's a report or another group of two to four… Frak… these aren't normal Centurions…"
Lexi, their little personal Guardian liaison robot, as if appearing from nowhere, cocked her head. "Please explain-" she began in an infinitely patient, calm voice contrary to the dire condition Galactica found herself in.
"Sir, we have Guardian ships inbound requesting clearance to land Centurion forces to repel-" Mr. Gaeta yelped and yanked off his ear piece as a shrill, nails-on-chalkboard whine shot through CIC. Each speaker blared the deafening noise and everyone cringed, flinched, and groaned as their auditory senses were overwhelmed. He frantically switched off internal comes. "They're jamming us… like the first time." He said over his shoulder as alarms went off on his console. Tigh hopped over and demanded an explanation. "Sir… they're retracting the landing pods!" Gaeta said and hurriedly turned to the Colonel for orders.
"How the frak are they doing that… Gods damnit they're in the LSO shack." Tigh cursed as a dark realized set in. Where the Heavy Raider had landed was right under the central LSO shack. He muttered a second string of curses under his breath and stalked back to the central command console.
The airlock door from the flight deck led to a corridor and an access ladder which took them right up to the corridor leading to the Landing Signal Officer's 'shack' which controlled everything from the landing system to deck service lights to emergency pod retraction.
"Guardian craft can't dock at our external airlocks, sir," Helo said. Tigh's eyes angrily widened- he knew- and he tapped the console. "Sir… the Centurions they're different… we have reports coming in that these are taller, more heavily armored."
Colonel Tigh's eyes glared and silently demanded an explanation.
"I don't know, this is all the information we have sir…" Helo reluctantly said, a corner of his mouth flicking up in an apologetic gesture. He offered the note a crewmember had written before the communication lines were jammed and the wireless was near useless.
"I think the gods have us cursed, Major," Tigh bellowed and then chuckled cryptically. "We already have Marines at the critical junctions-"
Colonel Tigh saw the Guardian machine moving up to stand opposite him and the Commander at the console. He looked up as she interrupted him. For a second he envied how calm she was. There was no fear in her face.
"It's my understanding that last time this vessel was boarded there were significant casualties?" Captain Lexi asked, though her tone was more of a statement than a question. She tilted her head and stared unblinking as Tigh and Helo looked back. "And the jamming may be coming from the Heavy Raider… it needs to be disabled."
"All our cameras in that section of the ship are out," Tigh said, tapping on the console to emphasize his point.
"Yeah… we had seventy-three killed last time," Helo said sorrowfully. The tone in his voice was grave and he'd lowered his chin and was watching the Guardian with narrowed eyes. "We had to use explosive rounds. Their armor was thicker than on the standard bullet head."
Lexi nodded and stepped back. "Commander Adama, I request permission to offer my… services," the corner of her mouth twitched up, "to your Marines and aide them in repelling the Centurions."
Commander Adama didn't have to think twice. He didn't particularly like this new 'Captain Lexi' and though of her more as an interloper or spy but let himself cautiously thank the gods. He and Tigh had discussed the possibilities she was spying or at least, reporting to Commander Thais. Though the Guardians had done nothing for Adama to truly question their sincerity in aiding humanity he just didn't like it. And a chance to save humans at the expense of a robot he barely knew?
"Permission granted." He nodded curtly.
Captain Aaron Kelly, hands shaking, slowly pulled the scrap of shrapnel from his side. "Gods…" he stuttered, spittle flying onto his blue and bloodied uniform tunic. He'd seen the Cylon Heavy Raider crash into the flight pod. He'd ordered a bulldozer to shove it out the end of the pod ASAP. But a Centurion had jumped out and popped the crewman in the head with a well aimed burst to the head.
Of course in vacuum there hadn't been any sound. But Kelly had heard the dark melody of gunfire too many times over the last three years. There were no sound waves rushing towards his ears, but that didn't mean he didn't swear he heard the gunshots.
There was the bright white muzzle muscle… the Centurion hadn't even bothered to raise its arm… didn't even seem to really aim… it was just so, so casual, to Kelly, how the Centurion had murdered the deck hand.
Even if it had been imagined, the gunshots, why did it matter? They'd happened, the crewman he'd ordered to bulldoze the Heavy Raider was dead and everyone around him was bloodied and dead.
Hewasn't even sure how he'd survived.
He closed his eyes and the waking nightmare began.
Kelly could still see the blood splash against the plastic panes in the bulldozer's cabin. Whoever it was in that bulldozer, even dead, still managed to knick the Cylon craft and pin part of it against the inside bulkheads and crush part of its cabin. Those transports could carry, he guessed, maybe twenty Centurions if they were packed tight… and gods! The Centurions. They were black-gray, dark, and he swore their red eye was closer to the color of blood than the older models.
It was that eye, roving, left to right and right to left, just searching. And how it locked in place when it had a target! He felt a chill and his skin prickled as he physically shivered.
He saw more. Those claws were long, razor sharp. One of the Centurions had looked up at him and, Kelly wasn't sure, but flexed his claws in front of its chest as if taunting him. Then it had opened fire.
The LSO shack's ballistic plastic was thick and reinforced and could take a Viper crash (indirectly). He'd definitely heard those bullets smack into the plastic and remembered he'd dropped to a knee, as had the other two, in fear.
He'd ordered the landing crew to get the frak out and considered, for a brief second, to stay and defend the LSO shack… then realized the two seconds it would take (and that was being generous he know considered) for the Centurions to slice his head off wouldn't do much. Nothing. No, he got out of there and went looking for a Marine detail to grab a gun and actually do something useful… or so he tried, at least.
For a minute he'd felt he had been abandoning his post, letting the ship down. Maybe he should have destroyed the equipment?He guessed the Cylons might want to retract the pods but they'd gone over in detail counter-boarding actions by either Pegasus, Galactica, or Helios should the other be boarded in some insane replay of what happened to the Beast.
Now, sitting hunched against the bulkhead and bleeding… at least he'd found that Marine detail, got a rifle, and was able to fight back instead of getting gunned down like a cornered animal in the shack…
"Oh… frak me…" he heard beside him. His fingers had tightened around the weapon. But Cylons didn't talk like that, so he relaxed his grip.
"Sergeant?" he muttered, surprised and wary. He wasn't sure if he'd imagined the voice or... He shook his head cleared and wiped the sweat and tears from his eyes. He winced as he carelessly brushed an eye with his sleeve.
He closed his eyelids and blinked quickly, but his left eye was blurry. He closed the left and saw perfectly with the right. Then he closed the right to double check… his shoulders dropped slowly as the left eye was blurry again and opened both. His vision wasn't too bad but he figured it wouldn't be the twenty/twenty it had been… he groaned. Someone else groaned.
"Hadrian?" he whispered in a quiet hiss as his mind finally recognized whose voice was attached to the 'oh frak me' curse a few seconds back.
His head darted left and right nervously and his left hand, sweaty and cruised, gripped an M-18 service pistol with a Mark 3 Mod 1 Explosive Ordnance Launcher. His right hand shaking , and using the deck to keep his hand still, he loaded an explosive round that had dropped to the floor into the Mk 3… he felt it click in and he felt a warm, viscous fluid on his hand and turned it over.
Then he felt his pants were yet, around the outer thigh and lower leg, and his buttocks. He was sitting in a pool of blood. Kelly managed to hold back a gag.
"Kelly?" he heard. His ears twitched.
"Jill?"
"Frak… no one calls me by my first name." The hard-as-nails master-at-arms complained with a gruff friendliness.
He saw a dead body pushed off another and the staff sergeant groaned and grabbed her head. She stopped and took a quick second to massage her temple and shake her head out, blinking and licking her lips to orient herself.
Kelly pulled himself over to her and extended a hand- bloodied- and she grabbed it with a gloved one. Heaving, he helped pull her out from under the body and propped her up against the bulkhead.
"I've never seen those models before… frak… now I know what the Beast Marines felt like with the Guardians." She rubbed her temple. "Are you okay?" She asked when her eyes caught the blood on his tunic.
Kelly waved it off. "A flesh wound." His belly pulsed with the laugh and he barred teeth and sucked in a breath in pain. He lifted up his shirt and flinched at the gash and poked it. "I won't do that again." Hadrian looked at him. "Laugh… or poke it." He explained. She nodded.
They heard footsteps behind them, human, and then seemingly both rolled their eyes when a petite woman in a black on black uniform jogged up.
"Staff Sergeant Hadrian, Captain Kelly…" she said and kneeled. "You're both injured." Her head cocked to the left and she looked over her shoulder. "We need to move."
They both stared at the young woman, no, machine, as she checked the other bodies.
Kelly stood up and held out a bloody hand to help Hadrian. He remembered the blood and wiped it on his pants and held it back out.
They shuffled back before the bulkhead as Lexi checked the Marines. She stripped off an armored vest and handed it to Kelly and searched for more explosive rounds.
Hadrian had an M-38 rifle with an Mk 4 Mod 2 EOL which was larger and longer than the Mk 3 on the pistol. Hers held eight explosive rounds, similar to a shotgun, and was semi-automatic. The Mk4 had been designed to slip onto the rails of the Colonial rifles and sub-machine guns.
The M-38 rifle trigger could be used to fire the Mk 4 with a flick of the fire selector. She dutifully checked her rifle and watched the corridor as Kelly found a rifle, checked the magazine, and took a position to watch their back.
Lexi had a pistol but her mouth twitched in a mischievous grin, one they'd seen the Earth machine show on occasion, when she rolled a Marine and found an M-38 rifle with an under slung launcher.
The Colonial military had developed the explosive ordnance launcher during the first Cylon War to push back the Cylon boarding parties. Forty millimeter grenades were not something one wanted to be firing in the tight confines of a space ship. Even the small rounds, if fired too close, could cause serious injury to a human shooter. It had been a compromise. A headshot or center mass shot was needed to take out a Centurion and even then, only a head shot was really assured to do it. The armor on the chest was fairly thick and since it sloped, the explosive round may not always penetrate.
"Do you know where the Centurions went?" Lexi asked. "Or how many?" She stripped a final Marine of his vest and threw it over her much smaller body. It had flash bangs, a grenade, and spare magazines for the EOL and for the rifle.
"What are the Cylons doing?" Kelly asked the Guardian as he slapped the velco and snuggled into the vest.
"They have control of the LSO shack." She stated simply. "And have retracted the flight pods… Guardian raiders and gunships cannot connect with your docking collars." She didn't need to explain that was a deliberate design change due to the Cylon War. "We have Centurions on the hull attempting to cut in and it is taking time for your engineers to override the airlock safeties… time we may not have."
She handed them each more explosive rounds.
"We need to stop them," Hadrian said. Kelly and Lexi both nodded. Hadrian looked at her squad and the four dead Marines and an orange jumpsuit of a crewman slumped on the far bulkhead. The dead knuckle dragger's eyes were open, staring vacantly at the Marine. She swallowed. "You mind… uh… if you take lead?" She asked, shaking herself and breaking eye contact with the dead sailor. Her brows were creased down sympathetically at the dead Marines. Her dead Marines.
Her jaws and muscles tensed. She shrugged her shoulders back and cracked her neck, hearing the vertebrae pop.
The smirk flashed again on Lexi's pseudo-skin. "Of course, staff sergeant."
She took a step forward but stopped when she heard Hadrian move in the opposite direction. The Marine was closing the eyes of the dead woman.
Colonel Tigh tugged at his uniform tunic and straitened his gig line. He stood back and extended his neck and silently mouthed the situation to him as it appeared on DRADIS. Helo was coordinating with the Marines and Mr. Gaeta on the dire situation which was growing worse by the minute with the Centurion boarding parties as he studied DRADIS readouts. He still had to know where the Cylon fleet was. Tigh was confident they could defeat the Centurions-
Commander Adama was next to him, studying the Galactica's internal defenses (bulkheads and pressure doors basically) and ways to contain the Cylons.
Last time they'd gone for auxiliary damage control. Not this time.
"We have footage!" a Marine corporal… Tigh narrowed his eyes as he tried to remember the name, ran forward. He shoved the data card into a slot on the console. "We got this from a security feed outside the forward brig."
The XO nodded and scooted over to the side command console Gaeta and Helo were on. Gaeta keyed up the display and a translucent black rectangle appeared on the board, crackled as black and white snow appeared, and then produced eight seconds of horrifying footage.
The Centurions, armored in black-gray armor stood twenty centimeters taller than the previous models and appeared to be far more deadly. Two were in frame. One had something which looked like a rifle but could be described with slight exaggeration as some sort of fraking canon.
"I think it was only a matter of time before they developed new Centurions," Adama said thoughtfully, pointing a finger and running it over the Centurion's chest and head. "The design differences aren't extreme, but… count on their armor being thicker. We'll need explosive rounds for these."
"Sir," the corporal reported, "we have reports that explosive rounds are not as effective but initial casualty listing are extensive. We have eighty-seven confirmed dead already. Tenty-three of those are Marines, thirty-one air crew, and the rest ship personnel. Two civilians."
"Frak!" Tigh cursed. He bent down at the console as it began to flash red all over the battlestar's schematic diagram. "They've opened half a dozen compartments to space in the landing bays. There's nearly three hundred crew stuck in the Viper hangers… but the Centurions seem to be staying out of there for now. Corporal, pass the word for Marines to secure the tyllium tanks and all entrances to the hanger deck and munitions lockers."
"They're probably just trying to keep the Marines pinned down, keep the crew confined?" Helo asked as his eyebrows arched and he studied the diagram. The Cylon's known path was mark in a green line, starting at the flight deck and winding its way around the maze of corridors in the pod. "It's impossible to directly open the Viper maintenance areas to space but opening up these compartments," he pointed to the display, "would lock the airtight hatches. You confine three hundred people that means three hundred fewer people who could get a rifle and start shooting."
"Three hundred sitting ducks," Tigh grumbled.
Commander Adama nodded at his third in command. "And they've successfully forced nearly sixty Marines to go the long way around the central fuel storage tanks and munitions magazines," Adama outlined. "With trams out-"
"And the tight confines of that area it'll take them too long to get back to that side of the ship, sir." Tigh finished for his friend. Adama acknowledged with a thoughtful hum and frowned. "But we've got nearly two hundred Marines in this area and more armed crew…"
"But with them spread out on a dozen separate decks that thins their numbers at each checkpoint," Helo countered, rubbing his chin. "I mean, they could be heading for the forward magazines, thruster controls, auxiliary fuel storage, or even the nuclear missiles."
"Or here," Adama said quietly. He looked up at his officers and back down at the console. "They're not going to stay in the pod-"
He felt the deck shiver and reflexively grabbed the console before almost being thrown to the deck.
"Explosive decompressions along frames zero three seven to zero five six!" A DC crewman yelled out from his station. "Compartments zero zero to zero six."
"Right against the hull…" Tigh snarled, grimacing. "They'd need at least something equivalent to G5 explosives to do that."
Adama sucked in a heavy breath through his nostrils, his eyes closed, his mind raced as he envisioned the Centurions charging through the corridors and inflicting more death and devastating on his beloved ship and crew than the first time after Kobol. They had none of their terminators aboard, only a Guardian of unknown capabilities, and he felt a cavernous pit in his stomach and a sensation of dread work its way up his spine, tingling, before he shook it away.
Explosive. Heavily modified Centurions. No terminators to help. Almost a hundred dead already. Explosive decompressions.
This wasn't going to end well. But he had a job to do.
Captain Lexi walked confidently in front of both Captain Aaron Kelly and Staff Sergeant Jill Hadrian. The machine was the embodiment of calm and poise, the two humans trying to mimic her compsure, finding some comfort in following a literal death machine into combat rather than facing it.
They had been slowly approaching the LSO shack which was a deck up, four frames over, and two compartments forward from where the three had met.
They'd encountered two bodies so far. One had been riddled with bullets and one had been decapitated. The blood had geysered all over the bulkheads and stained the light fixtures. The pod was a house of fraking horrors; something which would forces Ares himself into sorrow at the sight.
Kelly added one more man to the list as they rounded a corner. There was no decency in what the Cylons had done to these people, his friends, and his shipmates.
Personnel were savagely mauled or shot. The rifles the Centurions were using would make the kill count extreme and Centurions were never afraid to charge. The charge of a Centurion was psychological. Even the most hardened soldier or Marine could break when a Centurion charged in the tight confined and constricted corridors of a battlestar, or any ship.
The Guardian machine felt very little, if any apprehension. Indeed, she had never felt fear before and while she drew on a few select memories of those who had created her from their pasts, she was unsure what the electrical signal in her MCP could be interpreted as.
Even as the fleet had starved around her and threatened to fall apart, she had not felt the fear running through the last survivors of the Colonies. She tried to feel as they did. She understood their fear, intellectually, but in truth she couldn't fully empathize.
While she was barely a few months old she did have 'memories' which aided her in her development. They had stated she was developing faster than her two opposites aboard Helios and Pegasus and was pleased. She had expressed remorse earlier in the pilot briefing room, before coming to this algae planet.
Bonds with humans were strange. Even without the Guardian society it was difficult to describe the bonds which formed between separate and yet collective nature machine AI's; describing them in human terms was utterly futile. Even finding a suitable word such as 'friends' or even 'colleague' or 'shipmate' was inadequate. Individuality was far different as part of a network where every thought and experience could be shared, where such things were encouraged yet discouraged, to prevent the machine equivalent of 'group think' common in human settings.
Bonds? She felt a need to protect Kelly and Hadrian, though she did not 'know' them, nor considered them 'friends.' She had recruited them and now felt… responsible?
It was an interesting sensation which would need to be explored later. It was a thought process which needed immediate termination.
The petite machine stopped and signaled to Kelly and Hadrian with a closed fist. She crept forward, ever slowly and so quiet it was like she walked on air, to the next bulkheads. Lexi pressed her back into it and cautiously put a foot in front of her and leaned forward…
Her eyes zoomed in on a shadow cast onto a bulkhead half way down the fifty meter long corridor. The LSO shack was dead set in the middle and she saw the hatch had been bent open and hanging loose from its hinges. It was a pressure hatch but built nowhere near as strong as the ones in the main hull. The Centurions had had no difficulty dislodging it.
Lexi's head moved back slowly as she saw the shadow move. From the running lights in the flight pod the shadow of an obviously heavily damaged Centurion was laid into the corridor and up the wall. She almost smiled when she saw the shadow's left arm ended at the elbow and the Centurion's head remaining tilted to the left.
Damage was good.
Kelly had been correct and she signaled a thumbs-up to him that the fire team had hit the Centurion where they had assumed. It was damaged and Lexi felt the statistical probabilities rise, though a part of her MCP's sub-personality algorithms raised complaint; she hated putting an actual number on the statistical probability and thus settled for- she attempted silent humor- 'much more likely I won't get smashed' instead of a number.
The Guardian moved forward. She might as well have gone barefoot, her boots made no noise despite her weight; nearly double that of a biological woman her size. She held the muzzle of her M-38 at a slight angle to the deck, confident in her ability to raise it faster than the damaged Centurion could shoot her.
Centurions were equipped with sensor packages, but Lexi was unsure exactly what types. None of the Centurions encountered by Carter on Caprica had motion sensors and it appeared that only a minority had had them on New Caprica based on Jo and Carter's recollections. She guessed they didn't as she approached… but she did know their hearing was amazing and if she were a human it could have heard her breath if she crept closer.
Though if she was a human, she told herself, she would not be doing this.
Her eyes focused… four meters until the hatch… three… two…
She leapt by and shouted; "Hey, fraker!"
As she'd leapt she was in front of the door for less than a third of a second. In that time she had a clean shot at the Centurion's head and had debated pulling the trigger, but the LSO shack was still in operable condition. If she fired in that confined a space the explosion would destroy the controls… and the flight pod would not automatically re-open if the controls were destroyed.
She hit the ground hard enough to dislocate a shoulder, if she were human, and rolled onto her back and with a firm foot on the ground, kicked back and slid as the Centurion quickly exited the shack and aimed its good arm at her.
There were two pops from the back and the Centurion's chest and shoulder lunged forward and shards of metal and parts rained out of two gaping holes. She fired at a smooth angle right and her EOL discharged an armor piercing, explosive round right under the chin and into the neck. With her reflexes and perception the Centurion's head exploded… and she could see ever stress line and rip in its armored cranium as the explosive expanded and ripped through its delicate insides. It sputtered and clanked to the deck.
"Cap!-"
She heard Kelly shout it as she heard what he was shouting about to warn her. A Centurion stepped out from around the corner, its arm canons extended. Lexi twirled onto her stomach. An explosive round flew by and the Centurion jerked its left shoulder back. The round struck the bulkhead and flashed and blew apart harmlessly on the thick metal. A second raced by and glanced the Centurion in the right thigh and didn't explode.
Lexi pulled the M-38 up as the Centurion fired. She fired. The explosive bullet smashed into its knee and blew off its leg and sent it careening forward as a fourth round race over its head, right where its chest had been, and again exploded harmlessly against the bulkhead.
Half a dozen bullets clawed at Lexi's face and into her shoulder. She'd dropped her head just in time as the Centurion fired again and protected her more delicate optical sensors. The top of her head was well armored and she felt the bullets ping and hammer at her skull and tear away flesh.
She fired again as the Centurion leapt forward on its one good leg. It blew the entire leg off, the force fighting the Cylon's own inertia. It fell but it scrambled and it kept coming, clawing its way forward with lightning speed. If she were human, she'd have been too frightened to move, frozen.
The range was close and the Cylons had closed so quickly she didn't have a firm grip on her M-38. Even with her strength she couldn't resist the Centurion from pulling at her rifle as it latched on. Lexi was stronger than a Model 007 but without a firm foothold this one still pulled her forward.
It yanked and she released the rifle and it threw it behind. It used one hand on the bulkhead to pull itself forward and Lexi went to one knee and her hand, in a blur, reached her pistol. She heard the powered up whir and her finger moved to pull the trigger on the EOL. The Centurion was quick, much faster than the Model 007s and swatted it away. It slashed at her face and ripped the skin clean off.
As the Centurions claw continued to move it through the skin behind it, balled its fist and punched only to have its fist stopped by the small machine.
She closed her hand and didn't let go even as the Centurion swiped at her with its claw. It tore more of her uniform and skin, exposed more of her metal, but she came down onto the wrist joint with her free hand and broke the mechanical forearm in two.
Lexi cocked back as the Centurion fell on her. Her hand was trapped behind her and useless. Hadrian and Kelly were running up but unsure what to do. They could fire and hit her or hold their fire and let her battle the metal monster and pray she won.
Her other hand reached over to the pistol and grabbed it tightly. The Centurion's still working arm clawed and swiped at her, but she struggled and wiggled under the weight of the Centurion. She let her machine body spasm up as she arched her bac, finally freeing her arm. She violently arched her back a second time to the extremes her metal joints would allow, flicking the Cylon in the air for just a moment.
Her arm was where she needed it. Lexi worked it under the Centurion and shoved it back and in midair kicked it, brought the pistol up, and fire one clear shot into its send and sent its decapitated and single-limbed body tumbling end over end under it hit the deck and slid to a half at the end of the bulkhead.
Kelly and Hadrian both jogged up and screeched to a hard halt as Lexi lifted herself and looked back. The looks on their faces were a strong mix of shock, horror, and general confusion. Lexi dimmed her left eye to a low blue glow and blinked the other- which still had eyelids- in silent understanding. Her body was already alerting her to where the tears in the pseudo-skin were.;
Her left face was completely torn from the temple to the clavicle with a piece torn towards her right breast,. There were three deep gash marks on her right bicep which had torn the thin layers of flesh, muscle, and black tunic and exposed blood-stained gray metal. Her right pants leg below the knee was torn from bullet fire and her calf muscle had been destroyed by Centurion bullets while she had been on her stomach.
Both hands were torn and there was very little skin remaining below the knuckles.
Lexi's boot was also shredded. She looked down and tore off the other boot to restore balance, retrieve a small knife and cut off loose skin so it would not interfere with her aim or vision. She did this as Hadrian watched but Kelly had moved to the LSO shack.
"Frak!" The two women heard from inside. Lexi gave Hadrian a look and brushed passed her into the shack and motioned for her to cover them. "This might as well be junked…" Kelly declared with a snarl. He opened a metal plate and showed Lexi. "They fused the wires in. We'll need a replacement… it'll-"
"Incoming," Hadrian hissed quietly.
Lexi quickly grabbed her rifle and stood over Hadrian as she kneeled. Both pressed their rifles into their left shoulders to remain behind the shack hatch frame as much as possible.
The three heard shuffling, not the movements of the metal-footed Centurions, but kept their guard until a Marine in black and M-38 rifle poked his rifle out to get a picture of the corridor sent to his helmet HUD.
"Metal!" someone shouted
"Toaster," Hadrian shouted back.
The Marine staff sergeant motioned for the Guardian and LSO to lower their rifles and stepped out.
"Corporal…" Hadrian said, lowering her weapon and grabbing his hand.
"Staff sergeant…" he responded with a respectful nod. His eyes went wide and stepped back as Lexi appeared. Four other Marines behind him started to raise their rifles but Hadrian snapped at them.
"Lower your weapons!" Hadrian hissed, pushing his barrel down. "She's one of the Guardians… saved our asses here." She jerked her chin to the Centurion behind the Marines.
The corporal eyed the Guardian and let his gaze linger on her metal face for an uncomfortable second before his lip and nose quivered in a silent snarl and turned back to Hadrian.
"We took out another Centurion as it tried to get into the main hull on the rear pylon, staff sergeant," he reported, "but we had reports from CIC before coms went out that they had gotten the LSO shack and retracted pods… there's some Guardians trying to cut in on the aft airlocks but it'll be ten, fifteen minutes and-"
"Corporal." Kelly spoke up and stepped out. "We need gear to repair the shack, bypass the main circuits with a clamps extender-"
"Already on it, sir." He nodded and looked to Hadrian. "We figured they trashed it so…" he looked over his shoulder, "private, get down to the landing bay and get the chief to send a work crew up here ASAP-"
"There's jamming coming in from the Heavy Raider," Lexi said in a slightly distorted voice. Her hand reached up but she couldn't feel under the armor and continued. "You need to disable it so I can communicate with the other Guardians and coordinate."
"We've got Marines already working on that..." he grinned at Hadrian.
The flight pod shook and a bright light flared into the LSO shack, through the hatch, and into the corridor.
"What the frak?" Hadrian cursed.
The corporal grinned. "Heavy Raiders have their com gear up front and fuel in the back and side… their armored so tough they can take a small missile to the front and not explode…" the corporal explained.
"You blew it up in the hanger?" Hardian's mouth was agape.
"A risk, the deck plating is thick enough" Lexi stated. "Where are the other Centurions going?" They needed to move.
"Warning, Centurions approaching CIC. Warning-" the wireless buzzed loudly.
Major Agathon breathed in slowly and then released. The rifle was still covered in blood even after he had wiped it, and the Marine the others had dragged in to CIC had just died and slow and painful death, gasping and grabbing at Helo's sleeve. Helo could see the Marine propped up against a support column off to the side, where a half dozen flat screen monitors displayed internal sensor data. One eye had been locked on the hatch and the other on the dying Marine.
He felt sick and a dark cloud swarmed over him. He'd ordered a Marine corporal, one whose name he didn't know, to leave the dying Marine and get over to them. They needed to be ready. And now that Marine he'd been trying to comfort, hold his hand so he would die knowing someone was there with him, comforting him, had been snatched away.
Helo threw that thought out of his mind. CIC was a chamber of confused and frightened souls praying to the gods they would somehow make it. The blast door to CIC was locked. It was stronger than the average door inside the aging tin can but the Centurions had been seen using some sort of explosive goop to blow the locks off which put Colonial CB-9 thermal explosive to shame.
Marines outside the blast door had set up what they hoped would be a kill zone outside CIC. Colonel Tigh had wanted them inside but they'd insisted to at least try and stop them before they got to CIC. If the Centurions got in and started firing they could decapitate the command structure of one of three Colonial warships left in existence.
"Focus," Commander Adama whispered to a crewman. He looked at a shaking junior crewman with a pistol one over from the Marine on his right. Tigh's head snapped over as a printer activated and spat out a stuttered report. He had to laugh at the site, as ridiculous as it was. "Here they come." He whispered.
The Commander had taken a position near Tigh and the others, at the navigation plot. Tigh and Adama had spaced out. They didn't want the entire command group killed in one go, not that all being locked in CIC with rampaging Centurions wasn't bad enough.
"Felix!" Helo hissed.
Gaeta was fiddling with his switch board and waved impatiently for Helo to shush. He dropped to one knee and went on his back. He used a multi-tool and pried open the metal access panel under his console. Helo winced when something spark and Gaeta yelped, but he continued warning.
"Got it!" He yelled and swung up to his knees. He grabbed the sound powered phone and punched the button for acess to the wireless systems the Marines were using. "Warning, Centurions approaching CIC. Warning-"
And then a loud screech erupted.
"Excellent work, Mr. Gaeta! Now get back up to your defensive post!" Hissed Tigh. "Maybe now we might get reinforcements," he whispered, "and not die today."
There hadn't been enough pistols and rifles, not for everyone in CIC. They had no idea which way the Centurions could come. They'd set up a tiered defense. Colonel Tigh, Helo, two Marines, and two crewmembers were crouched behind the central console, rifles and pistols pointed at both main entrances to CIC. The third rear entrance would have required three blast doors for the Centurions to get through and reports said only three were on their way… Tigh grunted. Only three, he mentally repeated, his lip curling up in a look of unadulterated hated for the bullet heads.
He caught Helo's eyes and they both twisted around. Helo's back cracked and he let out a soft 'ooo' from the release of the tension. Tigh chuckled and shook his head. Both senior officers nodded up to the crewmen before Tigh's single eye locked once again with Helo's.
"Helo…" he tilted his head.
He didn't want this to be the end but if it was he wanted to at lest make some amends, and gods knew he hadn't treated the major all that well.
The third in command of Galactica closed his eyes and gave a shallow nod. They both turned back, each to an opposite hatch.
Above them on the second row of consoles at the communications row were two Marines and Dee and Gaeta with rifles and pistol. At the top along the Core and DC consoles was the rest of the CIC staff. Only three of them had rifles and two others pistols. From that vantage point they had a clear line of fire to both main hatches into the primary level of CIC.
Both Helo and Tigh opened their lungs and breathed in deeply.
Rifles fire and bright yellow lights glittered through the eye-height porthole on both hatches. The sounds of armor piercing explosive ammunition ripped through the thick metal bulkheads and with the crack crack crack of rifle fire sung loudly in the ears of the roughly two dozen CIC personnel.
Between the pops and cracks of Colonial rifle fire the crew stuck inside CIC could hear the loud cracks of heavy Centurion rifles. The deck plates shuttered as something exploded and before Helo or Tigh could release their breath the fight outside CIC had reached its conclusion.
There was a moment of tempered silence, broken only by a sudden burst of static as internal monitoring stations went dead and something thumped on the hull.
The Guardians were coming, but not fast enough. Even running, the CIC was buried so deep, the Cylons had damaged the hatches so extensively that anything would be long in coming to their rescue.
The sounds of mechanical footsteps rapidly approached.
Caprica Six had been a fighter ever since she'd achieved consciousness, since that moment she'd grasped the sides of her birth tank, her lungs on fire, and rose out of the gel, gasping for breath. She'd known since her creation she was a tool. But she'd fought, rebelled and turned against the Cylons and her creator. Her people were at war with themselves, half of her kind questioning their very nature. But right now she needed to fight… but she couldn't.
She closed her eyes and listened to her breath as the sounds of heavy gunfire and continuous cracks of rifles spitting bullets reached her ears. Her chest heaved as heavy breaths were sucked into lungs.
There was no chance of resurrection and no opportunity for redemption. This would be her fate and this day she would be judged by God.
Here she was, cornered in her brig cell, and prepared to die.
The bio-Cylon had felt the Centurion's presence before she had heard the gunfire. It had sent a cold, foreign signal to her. Her bio-Cylon physiology, a mix of organic and carefully selected bio-technological pieces allowed her wireless communication with the Centurions.
The Centurion in the corridor was far different than any she had felt before. This one seemed to be taunting her, toying with her, almost bragging that it was coming to kill her.
She stood up as the gunfire ceased and the stomp-stomp-stomp of mechanical footsteps came to a rest outside the hatch to the brig. Within her cell she was locked and caged. And she considered this an almost fitting end.
For a moment, a little piece of her sparked, and tried to ignite a fire in her belly to fight. But she extinguished it and reserved herself to her fate. She had the blood of twenty billion on her hands and in that last moment she knew she had, she prayed for forgiveness and cursed herself for believing that God would want His children to war against themselves.
If she was damned then she would embrace her eternal fate.
"I do love you," she heard someone say.
Her eyes opened and she looked at the man she loved standing across from her next to the door to her cell. He was in the same suit the day they had first met, with the same haircut and same wickedly sly, arrogant smile she had loved so much. Beneath the arrogance and ego she'd seen a true man worthy of love.
"I'm so sorry…"she struggled to whisper. The deep brown eyes of her love sparkled as a tear formed. He took a step forward to meet her and stroked her face.
"You don't have to worry." He said.
She closed her eyes. "I love you, Gaius."
She jumped as the hatch was smashed opened. It flew back on its hinges twisted and bent.
Caprica saw the red pulse of the Centurion's eye as it stepped into the brig and approached her cell. Its oversized rifle rested in one hand, almost lazily, pointing towards the deck. It took less than a second to stop. It let its crimson eye halt mid-swoosh and it pulsed ominously as it prepared to kill her.
Helo and Tigh both watched separate blast doors, each diverting their eyes, darting up and down, left and right, as thermal pace burned white hot through the metal. The hatches were thick and built with some tough-as-frak material, but everything could be defeated, given time. The Cylons had brought along a compound for more effective than Colonial thermal paste, of course.
The sounds of mechanical feet stomping were fiercely loud, right outside the door. They quickly grew quiet as they retreated down the corridor…
Then the hatch frames exploded. The doors didn't exploded back, not really, due to their weight. They plopped down to the ground before being pushed back by intimidating metallic soldiers, Centurions intent on murder and death. Blood bathed their gray-black armor and made them appear as demons and death incarnate, here to cast the CIC crew to the pits of Hades.
No one gave the order to open fire and Tigh didn't even bother. No one hesitated. The Centurions were quick, too quick.
Commander Adama was the first to fire. His bullet struck a Centurion on the first hit but didn't explode. He cursed and dropped into cover, a Marine taking position and firing.
Two Centurions ripped across CIC from the hatch Tigh had been watching and one from the Hatch Helo had been watching.
The duo separated. One Centurion went left and the other right and used the support braces for cover. Its overpowered rifle, a canon as Tigh had described it, spat bullets at the upper tier of defenders in the Core and DC. Consoles exploding, paper was shredded. Glass and plastic were dangerous fragmens. Broken everything showered the defenders.
The second Centurion fired at the collected soldiers in the center, forcing them down. The central console showered sparks and died. Something flamed, sparked, and fizzled. The overhead DRADIS displays were wrecked by erratic fire from someone.
The third Centurion sidestepped right and fell to one knee as explosive rounds ripped past where its torso was. More consoles and screens exploded.
An explosive bullet zipped past Tigh and Helo. It ricocheted off a sloped portion of the Centurion's armor, exploding harmlessly half way up the far bulkhead.
Something was thrown towards Adama and the Marine. The Old Man just barely pulled down the Marine as a monitor a Centurion had knocked loose flew by their heads. Bullets followed.
Bullets from the Centurions returned fire with deadly and hellish precision. A stream of bullets tore out the neck of a Marine. The Centurion swiveled and kept a finger on the trigger, sweeping the tiers, heading towards Dee. Gaeta bravely grabbed her and pulled her down as half a dozen bullets made their murderous intent known as they slammed and pinged against the consoles behind their heads.
Both Colonials got up and returned fire, ineffective yet defiantly. Dee went down in screaming agony as everything around her began to explode.
A Marine from the top tier rose quickly up and fired a burst of armor piercing rounds at the lone Centurion which pinged. Gaeta loaded his last explosive round and fired even as consoles exploded and showered him with debris. He yelled in righteous, vengeful furry and pulled the trigger as the console in front of him exploded and sent shrapnel into his sides and neck. He fell and landed on his side. His eyes met Dee's.
Bellow them Helo bucked as a ricochet from the command console came back and slammed into his forearm. He dropped the rifle and feel to his elbow. The Centurion in front of him dropped, a hole in its flank, but continued firing. It's round hit the Marine in the chest and bounced him into the console, dropping his rifle. Helo rolled onto his wounded arm, screaming in agony, and yanked the rifle from the limp hands of the Marine.
He rose but the rifle jammed.
The Centurion aimed at him.
"Hey Fraker!" He heard.
Adama had distracted the Centurion with a yell and three quick and well-placed shots. Helo had time to duck and he threw the rifle between his legs, his arm still aching, and pulled at the action, dislodging an explosive round.
The sounds of Colonial fire followed by Centurion fire echoed and rung loudly in Helo's ears; he needed to get this done. His head poked quickly above the console. Adama was crouched and the two saw each other. Adama rose when the Cylons repositioned, its fire thrown off slightly bby its sudden movement.
Helo had his opportunity, gritted his teeth and sucked in the pain and gripped the weapons tightly with both hands, shot up and as he felt the moment was right he fired and two rounds tore through the air. The recoil hurt so much but he stayed up for that precious second if he needed to fire again.
One hit the chest of the Centurion. In slow motion Helo's eyes glued themselves to the Centurion's chest as the bullet penetrated and tore through the frontal armor. There was a small hole, just barely visible through the smoke. It exploded and the Centurion heaved forward and spasmed. A second bullet hit right at the exposed neck and sent the Centurion flailing back, its head jerking left and right, its dark and brooding eye blinking violently.
Helo fired the last two remaining explosive rounds. One explosive bullet hit true and tore a larger hole, a gaping hole into the damaged chest armor from the first bullet. The second went deeper and exploded next to the power core. The Centurion went into violent contractions and fell to the deck.
Helo pulled the trigger. Adrenaline coursed through his exhausted body.
A click.
A last surge of energy as an auxiliary battery tried to take over was met with fire from a Marine. The top of its hit and part of its visor exploded into bits of burning hot metal. A piece struck Helo in the cheek, cutting him and rforcing him to spin around and drop, his back slamming into the console as he sought protection.
He swirled around and looked behind as he twisted. Gaeta and Dee were nowhere. Blood soaked the wall of consoles from behind the communication's station. Bullet holes were everywhere. Everything was shredded to pieces. Barely one in five monitors were working, most of them only flickering static. Thee third tier had two people still firing.
"Get up soldier!" Tigh shouted without looking back.
Helo swung fully around and fired at the Centurion on his left making its way up to the third tier defense and the Core and DC stationed.
Tigh saw his opportunity and fired. An explosive round was belched from his rifle but the Centurion maneuvered away and it slammed harmlessly into a monitor. As a final insult it didn't even bother to explode.
The Colonel thumbed the rifle to regular bullets, AP, but probably not good enough to pierce the armor, he thought cryptically.
Then the Centurion noticed the lack of exploding rounds being fired at it and lurched and hopped over the console. The Marine still firing in front of the one-eyed Colonial was smacked away with a casual wave of the Centurion's hand. It grabbed Helo and Tigh's weapons and yanked them from their hands, dislocating Tigh's shoulder. He grunted and both gagged as the Centurion grabbed their throats and squeezed.
He held them up to the third tier of defenders, still firing.
Commander Adama had swiveled to free his friend, taking aim. But he was knocked back by the Centurion, holding Tigh.
It looked down at the commander as the staccato'ed rifle fire from above began to diminish.
"Surrender Now Or They Die." It commanded in a cold, mechanical voice.
Caprica locked her eyes with the Centurion. Dark red blood spotted its gray-black armor. In a moment of serene calm the bio-Cylon straightened as the Centurion stepped forward and wrapped its claws around the hatch to the cell.
It pulled once and then twice and the metal groaned and tore. A third pull dislodged enough for it to get its claws within the frame and the fourth pull broke it free. The door fell without fuss to the ground and clattered once and was silent.
The Centurion stepped inside and raised the rifle-
Caprica recoiled and fell to her knees as a ear-popping explosion ripped through the brig and sent the Centurion staggering forward. A second boom- and Caprica clutched her ears- threw the Centurion over her back and slammed it into the rear of her cell.
She scrambled back and searched for the rifle the Centurion had dropped. A third explosion ripped apart the back armor of the Centurion and sent a piece of shrapnel loose into the air which cut deep into Caprica's arm. She yelped and scrambled to the far corner of the cell as a second machine sprinted in.
It had the Centurion pinned against the back of the cell- not that the Centurion could fight its attacker now- and rammed its hand into the Centurions back and ripped out a handful of sparking black cables and tossed them to the deck like garbage.
One other Colonial rushed in and were far less concerned with the Centurion than the bio-Cylon with a heavy battle rifle at her feet.
Caprica's mind didn't even consider the possibility of reaching for it; not after what she had just confessed to herself. Instead she nervously licked her lips and inspected her wound and stood up and patiently waited.
"You need to come with us," the female robot said as it turned to her. "Your skills are required."
"What's happening?" She asked, stepping forward and nodding her agreement. "We've been boarded-"
Staff Sgt. Hadrian interrupted. "The CIC is under attack. We were heading up there when we heard the gunshot and Lexi," she nodded at the grizzly and bloody robot, "said we could use your help."
"Cynet must have targeted me," Caprica said to herself. "It knew I left with Gaius-"
"That's great," the Colonial Marine snapped. "Captain Kelly?"
The Captain came in from the corridor and tossed an armored vest to the Cylon. He shot a weary glance at the Marine and a soft sigh was his reservations vocalized.
"Where are the rest of the Marines?" Caprica asked as she slid on the vest and quickly adjusted it. Combat was bred into her.
"The Cylons opened compartments to space and the hatches sealed. There trams are down and most of the Marines are stuck near the flight pods if they aren't in CIC," Kelly quickly explained. He brought up a rifle and handed her explosive round magazines. She grabbed the rifle but he didn't let go, instead gritting his teeth, his nostrils flared and the he released the rifle with a jerk.
The Guardian machine turned back around and stepped forward and grabbed the oversized battle rifle. She tossed the other one on her back and let the sling nestle across her chest. Lexi cocked the hammer back. The petite machine was handling the rifle as well as any of the massive Centurions.
"Let's go," she said.
Colonel Tigh tried desperately to think of a way out of this. A Centurion stood over him and a dozen others who had been gathered up like animals and herded into the center of CIC on the first level. Dead bodies littered the decks, smoke hung thick in the air, and the disturbing smell of burned flesh was intoxicating. Tigh felt light headed and a part of that was from him still trying to breath after the Centurion had lifted him from his feet and used him to force the Marines to surrender.
He caught Helo's pleading eye which stabbed out in silent agony to 'do something!' But the colonel was stuck. There was nothing he could do.
The two surviving Centurions had massacred those who resisted… he looked slowly to Lt. Gaeta cradling Dee in his lap. He'd been shot, a through and through, he was in immense pain, Tigh could tell. The officer was propped up against a console and running his hand down the petty officer's cheek.
Her normal copper skin was pale and he watched her chest rise and fall slowly as she struggled to breathe.
He and Helo were separated from the other survivors. The commander was separated from all of them, a Centurion standing over him. He looked defiant, even in his pain. They'd done something… the way he was holding his arm, it looked like the Centurion must have broken it.
The Centurion had ripped open the command console and was doing something with the wires. Tigh couldn't tell, but it looked almost like what Athena had done to purge the virus.
"What do they want?" Helo whispered, cautiously moving himself closer to Tigh.
The Centurion turned and in one step had its clawed hands around Major Agathon's throat.
"Gods damnit!" Tigh yelled and reflexively lunged at the Centurion. It casually backhanded him and he felt bones break in his face as he landed with a hard thud on the deck. His head smacked into the back of a plotting table's support legs and he groaned.
The Centurion released Helo and he collapsed to the deck like a ragdoll.
Tigh looked horrified as his eyes refocused and saw some of the captured crew stir, almost ready to charge the Centurion. Adama waved him down and the two men saw the pain in the other's glistening eyes. Tigh could see Adama's fire building as fraking Centurions mauled and insulted his CIC by their very presence.
He heard metal hitting the deck next to him and groggily turned his body and stared at a com headset. Tigh dragged his eyes along the deck and felt relief wash over him as he saw Helo roll and groan. The Centurion hadn't killed him, after all.
The one choking the Major stalked over and pointed at the com headset.
"Contact Pegasus." It commanded to Adama. "Inform them we have your ship. They are ordered to give the Temple of the Eye to us." Its voice was masculine and hard and mechanical.
Adama nodded slowly and reached out for the com headset and fell to his chest. Adma held the headset up and as he raised it, looking like he would put it on, threw it at the Centurion's head.
The Centurion stepped forward and wrapped its claws into Tigh's uniform back. The grizzled colonel yelled as the razor sharp metal tore into his skin.
The Centurion threw him onto his feet and pushed him into the tactical display. His back arched as the Centurion pressed its open metal claw onto his chest.
"Frak you!" Adama snarled.
"Now." It commanded in the same cold, lifeless mechanical voice. "Or Colonel Tigh will be killed."
The Colonel prayed to the gods- something he didn't do often- and hoped for a miracle-
"Don't do it, Bill!" The Centurion aimed its weapon at Tigh. He knew it was going to pull the trigger. They both knew. "Frak you you fraking metal toaster and-"
Gunfire exploded in the CIC. Adama rushed to his friend's side. They ducked and maneuvered away as a firefight broke out and crew tried to escape or reclaim their weapons.
Tigh grabbed at a gun. An explosion had him stumble backward and he hit a console, something jabbed into Tigh and he felt ribs crack. He ignored the pain and saw an opening as the Cylons were distracted by the… frak, the Guardian and other Marines and… he charged for a new position, something with cover.
The Cylons saw him. One swiveled and pointed. Yellow fire erupted from its gun. Bullets, aimed for Tigh, rushed at him with his death their only objective.
In that moment he felt hands on him and he lost sight of the Centurion.
Commander Adama had him, charged him, and pushed him to safety…
Lexi took point with Caprica Six behind her. Captain Kelly and Staff Sgt. Hadrian were behind them moving up methodically. The Marines guarding CIC were dead and thick pools of blood bathed the deck and bulkheads. It was slick, even for combat boots, and machine, bio-Cylon, and Colonial all alike had to watch their step or risk slipping and alerting the Centurions inside CIC.
If the Centurions had been repelled there would be Marines outside the hatch. There would be sound. None of the four expected to find anyone alive but the emotional ramifications for Kelly and Hadrian had not yet reached those two. For Lexi this was a mission and while she enjoyed the company of Galactica's crew, she had felt no emotional connection. For Caprica this was a chance to strike at Cynet and while she didn't fully realize it consciously, a part of her saw this as her greatest opportunity to earn the trust of the humans.
Lexi held up her hand. Caprica twisted her head slightly to position an ear forward- the explosions in her brig cell had dampened her bio-Cylon hearing, but she could hear a cold and mechanical voice commanding someone to do something.
The Guardian held up her hand to indicate friendlies. Hadrian and Kelly exchanged an exchange look. Kelly prayed that his friends had been taken alive… maybe the Centurions needed something? He mentally grimanced at the remote chance… but the Cylons had changed their behavior and tactics so it was possible they were taking hostages. And that meant they could be rescued.
Lexi signaled for them to get ready and she took a step forward, Caprica right on her heels.
They approached the hatch and could hear the defiant voice of Colonel Tigh cursing a Centurion.
She knew the Colonel and everyone else wouldn't have much time if the Centurions detected them. She stepped and with a leap of faith, appeared in the hatch and opened fire with the battle rifle.
Colonel Tigh was separated from the commander. He couldn't see Adama, not totally. He saw the man, finally, from the corner of his eye at the command console.
Tigh had to grab a weapon. The pain in his back was almost unbearable, but he needed a weapon.
The Guardian was fighting the Centurion and fraking Zeus's cock and Hera's cunt, Caprica Six was fighting the gods damned raking Centurions.
Tigh felt he needed a drink just about as much as he needed a gun right about then.
Lexi and Caprica came through at the same time. Lexi saw a Centurion with its back to her and she opened fire. The bullets pinged and penetrated into the Centurion but it turned back and fired with a blurred motion.
She stepped into CIC and took cover behind a console. Caprica was to her right and the bio-Cylon quickly leaned to the side and fired an explosive round. It streaked by the head of a Centurion and exploded on the far bulkhead of CIC. She fired again but the Centurion she had been aiming for had already moved and was position on the mid-level of CIC and firing without stop at the two women.
Caprica saw Tigh and Adama go down, one pulling at the other. Her mind's speed allowed her to fight and simultaneously see Adama pulled himself somewhere, clutching at his stomach and Tigh rolled, taking cover behind a console.
Hadrian and Kelly stepped out from the hatch and fire. One explosive round smacked into the arm, at the elbow joint, of the Centurion which had been threatening Colonel Tigh. Its lower arm exploded and fell to the ground. It lunged forward over the console to close the distance and grabbed a binder, throwing it as a distraction at the bio-Cylon.
Caprica bent back, the binder narrowly missing her head.
She scrambled away as the Centurion came crashing over the console and fell with its chest on Lexi. She stepped for cover behind the support beam to the right of the main CIC entrance and fired two more explosive rounds. One hit behind the dodging and maneuvering Centurion and knocked it forward off its feet. It rose too quickly and fired back, throwing Caprica back under cover.
Caprica heard Hadrian curse as her gun jammed and she switched to armor piercing fire. The bullets stuttered out and pinged onto the Centurion's armor almost wastefully. But she kept her fire up, hoping for that lucky shot into a joint or a thin plate.
If resurrection as still viable- if humans could resurrect- a few G4 charges would have solved this so quickly… she grimaced. Her own mortality made this feel so strange, so… different.
If she lived, if any of them lived then this could be the defining moment of her life as she selflessly defended those who'd have her dead as she proved herself to those she had yearned so much to kill and whose civilization's death she was guilty for drove her forward to repent.
This was her moment.
The bio-Cylon had no time to wait as Kelly moved into the CIC to take up a firing position on the Centurion. She heard the sounds of Lexi and the Centurion battling to the left of her.
Lexi felt the heavy weight of the Centurion on her. Her battle rifle was thrown aside and the Centurion left limb stump had speared her in the left shoulder. It's right arm grabbed her by the left bicep. Its limb stump pressed down as its right arm pulled back and Lexi heard the metal tear as the Centurion pulled her right arm clean from its socket.
With nothing but a blank expression she smacked the Centurion with an open palm and dislodged it enough to get her foot under. She pressed up and threw it straight up. She kicked it again and it launched at an angle into a bank of computers, which exploded and showered the Centurion with sparks.
It stood as she catapulted to her feet. It still held her arm. It raised it and brought it down in a slash and pummeled her with her own arm. He fell to the deck under the brutality of the Centurion's attack.
She heard something whiz by, a subued whine, right over her head and felt the heat from an explosion prickle the back of her neck where the skin was still able to feel sensation. Without looking up she extended her legs and almost flew through the air and smashed intot he Centurion with her right shoulder. It staggered back and as she fell she swept with her leg and knocked it off balance. It released her arm and she snatched it in mid-fall.
In a reverse she had her own arm by the wrist and raised it and smacked the Centurion right on the faceplate with it, shattering its optical sensor and denting its metal cranium. It slashed at her with its good arm and knocked her arm from her grip.
Lexi rolled as the Centurion kicked and its metal pronged foot hit nothing but empty air. She raised a fist and aimed for the Centurion's throat. It hit its metal chin and its slid down its curved armor, doing little damage.
She heard something explode and fall on the other side of CIC.
Then Lexi felt the Centurion smash its hand into her waist and crack her armor.
The momentum threw her onto her side and reacting with only the precision a machine could threw the tip of her elbow in a downward strike, redirected all the power she could to her servos and motors, and slammed it into the Centurion's head.
It went in and as she pulled it out the last bits of black uniform and skin still on her arm tore off. She heard Caprica yell and Lexi kicked back from the Centurion. Red and orange flames flashed in her optical sensors and heat danced on her pseudo-skin as one, then two, and then a third explosive round finished the Centurion.
The battle had been over in thirty, maybe forty seconds. A minute at most. Colonel Tigh had been ready to spit in the face plate of the Centurion and die. He would die on his feet, defying the fraking toasters to the very end.
It had been a flash. The commander had knocked him out of the way. He remembered that. Bullets had ripped apart CIC. Machines had fought hand to hand, ripping each other to shreds in blurry images of death and mayhem. He could smell the death around him.
He slowly grasped the corner of a console and pulled himself up, closing his eyes and moaning as his whole body ached. It felt like he'd sprinted into a brick wall over and over.
There was a DC man in green fatigues with a fire extinguisher frantically putting out a small fire in the corner. He didn't know if he ordered anyone, but he pushed and pointed someone to help the lone man. He thought how dangerous fire was on ships. He remembered the first day of the Cylon attack and the fire in the pod. The tyllium… losing the whole ship if it ignited, how the Old Man had put him in charge, how Bill had trusted…
Tigh's gut contracted.
There was the bio-Cylon kneeling over his friends, her hands covered in blood. There was a foot, motionless, just barely visible. Its owner was lying behind the command console.
"Get away from him, you bitch!" He cursed at Caprica, pushing, almost throwing himself off the console he was using to hold himself up. He stumbled over, a crewman caught up in his rage and used as a human crutch.
Tigh fell to his knees. "MEDIC!" He grabbed Caprica by the arm, his fingers sliding off from the blood. He pushed her back and felt for a pulse. "MEDIC!"
Caprica Six ripped off part of her tattered pants and bundled it, holding it over the gushing wound.
Colonel Tigh remembered. His friend he pushed him out of the way as the Centurions fired. He remembered the sound of the bullets tearing into his commander, his best gods damned fraking friend in the whole worlds.
He grabbed his friends hand. "Gods damnit, Bill, don't!" He felt a squeeze, tight, firm. Adama opened his eyes, the cobalt blue glistening under the flickering lights of CIC. He smiled.
The colonel cried as his old friend closed his eyes, as Bill's hand went limp. He buried his face in his chest, wrapped his hands around the Old Man, hugging him, not wanting to let go. Medics were there, trying to separate the friends.
It was too late. Too fraking late.