Luana raced along the smoke-filled corridors of the Ravager, her weapons blazing a path through any troop of centurions foolish enough to get in her way. Behind her she left a smouldering trail of destruction, and after the last couple of days, dang, but it felt good to do some damage. Adrenaline coursed through her body, singing the warrior's siren song in her brain-stem, and she was once again the Empyrean huntress of yester-yahren, confident in her skills and abilities, tenacious and daring. If only Lia could be there at her side . . .
It was yahrens of survival instinct, honed in wood and valley, that made her drop and roll, barely evading the searing heat of laser fire. She came up firing, cutting down two more Cylons, blowing the top of the head off of one, and drilling the other dead centre in the chest. She didn't skip a beat, as both adversaries fell, belching sparks, but barrelled ahead over their twitching and smoking forms, both of her weapons still blazing. A moment later she holstered one laser to take the ladderwell two steps at a time, pausing at the top of the Central Core for only a moment to survey the landing bay.
It was empty.
She scampered out of the hatch, heading straight for their tylinium storage tanks. On one after another she planted the solenite charges, smirking as she imagined the explosion taking out this bay and everything in it. It would make a perfect distraction as she engaged her turbos and escaped. Hopefully, it would also assuage Commander Dayton's anger somewhat, since she had decided to use a little initiative to come back for her Wraith.
Her keen eye detected a ripple in her vision, even as she felt the hair on the nape of her neck rise in reaction to the Espridian ship's invisibility force field. Feeling her way, she scaled the ship, activating the canopy and waiting as it slid open. She climbed in, taking a last look around as she pulled on her helmet and closed the canopy. There was a message waiting for her from the Endeavour.
Microns later she fired up the Wraith, still in full ECM, and nosed her forward through the hull of the Base Ship. Full electronic countermeasures or not, it just wasn't a nice feeling to have a Cylon Base Ship looming over you, knowing that with just one blast from its mighty batteries, she'd be incinerated. She could feel a shiver run down her spine as she accelerated away from the enemy ship. Checking her scanners, Luana verified the position of the Raiders that had engulfed the Earth shuttle so completely she could only identify it on scanner. They were herding it towards the Ravager with a squadron of Colonial Hybrids hot on their ion trail.
"Makes me wish we had loaded this crate with explosives so we could at least put a hole in the side of that barge!" The languaphone rendered the translation from the Earth pilot perfectly.
"Commander, we're not going to catch them in time!" The tense voice was Rooke's.
Timing was as critical as remaining incognito. If she dropped her ECM too soon, she'd be setting herself up as a target. If she waited too long, she'd blow the opportunity and this mission. She took a deep breath, deactivating her ECM as she simultaneously activated her weapons system. If she showed herself, she would a bleed off some of their forces . . .
Lords, you guys are so predictable! She grinned, as the enemy fighters did precisely that.
Three, two, one . . . She lined up her first target and fired, peeling off to the right to unleash the Dynamo on another. Beneath a sudden barrage of fire, the Cylon task force split down the middle, the Earth shuttle suddenly appearing from somewhere in the middle, before being eclipsed again when they closed formation.
"Phoenix Squadron, looks like we're getting some help! Lu, good to see you!" Rooke cheered.
"Blink and you'll miss me," she returned, rolling the Wraith to evade Cylon lasers, before blasting another Raider with the Dynamo and cutting a path through their ranks once again. Three Cylons were now floating dead in space, only inertia carrying them forward. "I'm leaving a bit of a mess in my wake, boys, hope you don't mind cleaning up after me."
"Clean up after the princess? Lords, it makes a guy feel downright domesticated!" Jolly's voice came over the comm.
"Hey! Triton Squadron is joining the party!" Rooke declared, hearing the lieutenant's voice. "Colonel?"
"Here, Lieutenant!" Apollo replied. "Report!"
"Commander Dayton's daughter is in that shuttle, sir!"
"So what are we waiting for?"
xxxxx
"By-your-command."
"Yes, Centurion?"
"Our-squadron-is-under-attack," a centurion reported on the Ravager. A blip on the scanner had appeared without a trace to open fire on their task force. Curiously, all the Cylon ships had lost power, and were impotently adrift in space.
"Remind me to reprogram in your priority codes, Centurion," Syphax ordered, almost sighing, as the ship trembled under the force of internal explosions in Gamma Bay. "Damage report!"
"By-your-command. Decks-one-two-three-four-five-six . . ."
"Decks one through which, Centurion?" Syphax asked in exasperation. He'd had trouble with some of these older rebuilds for the last dozen yahrens. Centurions had been built for dominance and superiority in numbers. Battle-chassis, armour, and offensive/defensive subsystems, all were first rate. Their "higher" processes, well, were certainly not going to win any awards for longevity, it seemed. As a result, he'd been plagued the last few yahrens with one problem after another; during a recent maintenance sweep, for example, he'd discovered, despite their combat capabilities, their power cells were limited. In fact, they were beginning to give out, and before many more yahrens, they would be out of material to fabricate more.
"Seven, Commander."
"Yes? One through seven! What about them?"
"Fires-are-out-of-control-in-alpha-beta-and-gamma-sections. Landing-Bay-Alpha-is-also-on-fire. Boraton-supply-is-exhausted-except-in-alpha-section. Shields-are-at-ten-percent. Remaining-mega-pulsar-is-at-five-percent."
"What is the good news?"
"That-was-the-good-news."
"Oh, felgercarb."
"What-are-your-orders, Commander?"
Report to the nearest recycling facility, and let me crush you into little tiny bits? Open up, so I can rip your worn-out and malfunctioning circuits to shreds, and dance on your faceplate?
"Put more distance between ourselves and the planet, Centurion. Beyond the range of all Earth weaponry. Hail our sister ship once more. And try and send out a signal towards Cylon space, relaying our situation."
"By-your-command."
"Also, evacuate all personnel from the damaged sections, starting with Alpha Bay, and open them to vacuum. That will stop the fire, Centurion."
"Does-not-compute."
"What does not compute?"
"How-opening-personnel-up-to-vacuum-will-stop-the-fire . . ."
"Not the personnel, the damaged sections! Open them to vacuum! Then expedite repairs with all speed."
"By-your-command."
"After you have closed the sections to the vacuum of space again," Syphax added after a moment.
"By-your-command."
"Excellent."
"Commander."
"What is it, Centurion?"
"You-ordered-me-to-remind-you-to-reprogram-my-priority-codes, Commander."
"Oh, felgercarb!"
xxxxx
Baltar hesitated for a long moment, his eyes staring into Ama's, his fingers itching to wrap themselves around the Oculus to not only see the truth of which Ama spoke, but to be reunited with his deceased wife, Eirys. Instinctively he knew that if Ama—an Empyrean spiritual leader—could be tainted by the dark powers of the orb, that he would quickly find himself thrust back onto the side of evil, his path to redemption abandoned in his lust to fulfil his desires and embrace unspeakable power.
He took a physical step back from her, shaking his head curtly. He would not take her place. He could not.
"Do you truly think that if one of us relieves you of the burden of that responsibility, that all will return to the way it was before, Ama?" John asked her, stepping between the quivering Baltar and Iblis' spawn. "Do you truly believe you can go back?"
"Who said anything about going back?" Ama asked. "You presume too much, John. I'm only offering Baltar a chance to be reunited with Eirys. Or doesn't that suit your mighty plans?"
"I cannot wield its power, Ama. It would devour any goodness left in me; I would be lost," Baltar admitted.
"You are wise, Baltar," John said.
"And you passed the test that I failed," Ama said.
"You did not fail, Ama," John told her. "If you failed, you would be conspiring with Count Iblis now, not standing here with us."
"Bully for me," she shrugged, looking at Baltar. "Well, Baltar? Do you want your wife back or not?"
"And should you return Eirys to me, what do you desire in return, Ama," Baltar asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Ah, Baltar! Ever the Maker of Deals!"
"Ama . . ."
She grinned. "Only that she resume her rightful duty as Keeper of the Oculus."
"You would surrender it? Truly?" Baltar asked, still doubting her words.
She didn't hesitate. "Gladly. You have my word." She stood quietly for a long moment, looking from the Oculus out over the wasteland before them. "For if I do not, the balance of the universe will once again be shifted inexorably towards evil, resulting in another cataclysm that will this time completely destroy mankind on Earth, long before Adama's Fleet arrives there." She sighed as she gazed around her once beloved Empyrean world. "I imagine it will look a lot like this."
"But I thought stopping the Cylons on Earth would counteract Iblis' plan," Baltar asked. "Is that not why we gave the Colonials the Espridian technology to traverse time and space?"
"Baltar, you of all people should know that you need to think beyond the next engagement," Ama reminded him.
"Iblis has been strategizing thus for millennia," John said.
"And it would not be the first time he schemed to destroy a world of mankind," Ama told them.
"Kobol," Baltar said. Despite his "elevated" status, he winced at the memory. "And more recently, the Twelve Colonies."
"Yes. And millennia ago his influence on the Thirteenth Tribe on Earth led to them warring amongst each other, and so angered the Mightiest of Powers that the Kobollians' newest empires of Atlantis, Mu, and their budding cities on Mars and Phobos were destroyed, almost entirely wiped from history, save for ambiguous remnants and clues. Mankind understood it and recorded it as a worldwide deluge, an act of divine retribution. All record of Kobollian military involvement has been forgotten."
"But how?" asked Baltar. "Our own Colonial history goes back to Kobol, the mother world of mankind's existence. Adama's family are said to be direct descendants of the first man in Eden. Indeed, in the Ancient High Tongue of the Kobollian priesthood, Adama means 'first man'. If we were so studious about recording and relating our history in the Book of the Word and other documents so that our history was not lost, why was it so different on Earth?"
"Remember, Baltar, much of our early Kobollian history is believed to be mythical," Ama reminded him. "On Earth it was even worse. Humans have a destructive nature. Many libraries and artefacts containing the historical documentation and evidence of transplanted Kobollian civilizations were destroyed during war and invasions."
"Very true," John agreed. "*On Earth, only a few of Homer's poems survived the destruction of his works by the Greek tyrant Peisistratus in Athens. Nothing survived the destruction of the Egyptian library in the Temple of Ptah in Memphis. Likewise, an estimated two hundred thousand volumes of priceless works disappeared with the destruction of the library of Pergamum in Asia Minor. When the Romans levelled the city of Carthage, they destroyed a library said to have contained more than five hundred thousand volumes. Then came Julius Caesar, whose war against Egypt resulted in the loss of the great library at Alexandria, considered the greatest collection of books in all of Earth's antiquity. European libraries also suffered under the Romans and later from zealous Christians. Between the sacking of Constantinople and the Spanish Inquisition, an inestimable number of ancient works were irretrievably lost. Collections in Asia fared little better, as Chinese emperor Tsin Shi Hwang-ti ordered wholesale book burning in 213 BC.* None now remain who can read the ancient rongo-rongo of Easter Island. All but a handful of Mayan codices are gone forever. Countless ancient Sumerian texts are forever lost. You have no idea what lies at the bottom of the Black Sea, or other scattered places beneath Earth's oceans." He sighed. "All that remains of the Kobollians' earliest recorded yahrens in Earth's solar system are a few data crystals recovered recently on Mars, along with a broken holo-reader."
Baltar stared at him in disbelief.
"Now do you understand how history can be so easily erased, Baltar? How Iblis can so easily leave his mark?" Ama asked the other. "I confess that I thought I could control the Oculus, that I could be its master, but instead it strived to control me. It makes me hunger for a power that I never before aspired to wield." She met John's steady gaze. "I admit—rather reluctantly, I might add—that I now realize that it must be returned to its Keeper. Iblis must not seize its power for himself, for he would surely destroy mankind in retribution for my perceived betrayal."
"Ama, the Great Powers will not approve of you releasing Eirys," John warned her.
"Then let's not ask them, Dear Heart," Ama returned with a saucy grin, raising the Oculus in one hand, as she lightly rested her other on her Empyrean talisman. "Now what was that incantation Paddy-Ryan taught me? Oh, yes. I remember now. Red Rover, Red Rover, I call Eirys over!" Her voice seemed to echo from on high.
The heavens thundered and the once-Empyrean soil quivered beneath their feet. Lightning flashed from the air and smoke roiled across the ground. Count Iblis appeared in a resplendent flash of light.
"Iforbid it!" he decreed.
xxxxx
*Jim Marrs-Rule By Secrecy
xxxxx
It was like watching a knife fight in a phone booth. They were surrounded by ships engaged in battle, pulling Bat-turns and jinking in all directions, all of them looking the same to her naked eye. The truth was that Jess wasn't sure just who was winning. What she did know was that Carter had miraculously managed to pull the Venture out of the pack, and they were hightailing it for the Endeavour.
With two ships on their tail.
"Man, I'm done. My fun metre is pegged!" Carter announced as he looked at the scanner.
"Pucker factor ten and rising," Trent agreed.
"Are they escorting us or sighting us?" Jess asked, her heart in her throat as her father's ship grew larger and larger in her vision while the Raiders gained on them. Would they make it or would they be blasted into oblivion just short of a reunion she had only dared to dream about?
"No idea," Carter admitted, turning his attention to the Base Ship ahead of them. "Endeavour, do you read?" He had the radio wide open, not sure what freqs the alien behemoth would be using. "This is the Earth shuttle, Venture. Requesting assistance as well as permission to land, provided we even get there in one piece. Awaiting instructions. Anxiously, I might add. Please respond."
"Are they even going to receive that message in all this interference?" Trent asked. "The air's full of electronic garbage."
"No idea," Carter replied again. "Endeavour, this is . . ."
Crackle . . . whine . . . hiss . . .
"Venture, this is Commander Mark Dayton." The voice was instantly familiar. Jess' heart just about seized up. There was no way that all those years could erase the memory of that voice. "Those two birds snuggling up to you are your Colonial escort. Don't take it personally." They looked left and right, and saw the ships pulling even with them. "Follow them to Gamma Bay and await further instruction from our Control Centre."
"Understood, Endeavour," replied Carter, throttling back and dropping the Venture's gear. "We are on approach."
Jess just about had a conniption fit, her fingers trembling as she fought to pull on the communication headset.
C'mon, girl! You've waited a lifetime for this moment! Shake some words out of your head!
"Com . . . Commander Dayton! This is Jess Dayton! I . . . I . . ." Her mind went blank. What did a girl say to her father after all these years? Hell, she'd barely been out of jumpers when he'd left! What if she screwed this up? She shook her head helplessly staring forward at the space that still separated them.
"Jessica?" came the reply, almost plaintive in its intensity, even through the hiss. Ahead, the yawning landing bay had filled the ports.
"Hi . . . uh, it's me, Dad. It's me, Jess. I, uh . . . hey, it's been a long time."
Oh, that was deep and meaningful!
"Yeah, it has, Sweetie-Bear," came the reply, his voice gruff with emotion. "I'll be waiting for you." Then: "I love you, baby."
Tears stung her eyes. "I love you too, Dad. See you soon." She sniffed, quickly turning away from her fellow passengers, feeling Carter's concerned gaze on her momentarily. She had a reputation for being as tough and resilient as any man, more dedicated and determined than most, but right now the WASA director could feel every defence ever erected around herself crumbling as age-old insecurities and heartbreaks bombarded her with the mere sound of her father's voice. In an instant, she'd become as emotionally fragile as a small child turning to her parent for constant reassurance. An uncomfortable silence hung over the flight deck. She needed to get her emotions in check, to rein them in . . .
"Sweetie-Bear?" Carter drawled.
"Shut up, Carter," she growled, leaning over to smack the back of his helmet with a resounding thwack.
She'd thank him later.
xxxxx
"Where the hell are we going?" Lauren screamed forward, clutching Fred as the motorcycle continued to put more and more distance between her and Manhattan. They were in Newark, New Jersey, for Christ's sake, and with the lack of explosions in the distance, she was beginning to feel safely out of range of both Cylon strafing runs and Mason's goons. Just safe enough to begin to worry about Fred's motivations, destination, and the origin of these "Brothers of Eden".
For a moment she had thought he hadn't heard her, then he shouted back, "Nearly there," while they careened around a corner, weaving in and out of traffic onto Ridge Street.
"Well that's . . ." she began, and then the staccato of gunfire filled the air. The bike lurched sideways, and they went down laterally, skimming the road surface as they slid another fifty feet. They finally came to a stop, colliding hard with an abandoned car. Lauren lay there a long moment, trying to catch her breath, feeling the heavy bike pressing into her trapped leg. She pulled at her helmet, gazing up in astonishment at the Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart looming over them. What the . . .?
Then Fred was shoving the wrecked bike aside and pulling her to her feet.
"Move it!" he yelled, putting an arm around her and letting her lean on him as she began limping towards the grand stairway in front of her. Gunfire shattered the air once again from behind, and several armed men burst out of the cathedral. The most recent additions, it seemed, were on their side for a change. "Down!" Fred yelled.
They dropped to the staircase as two forces exchanged fire, while Fred continued to propel her up the stairway on her belly. It was like doing army manoeuvres in a battle zone, except the ammo was live and she was hoping to stay that way herself.
"Go!"
Abruptly, she was jerked to her feet again, a second later clearing the enormous bronze doors, decorated in bas-relief, as gunfire rang out again behind them. She could hear rounds pinging off the doors.
"What the hell is this? Holy ground?" Lauren demanded as she stared around the Narthex, past the statue of Pope Gregory the Great, and through to the Nave area. There, enormous pillars supported huge vaults, while neatly arranged pews lined the way towards the altar. As cathedrals went, it was breathtaking. But with bullets flying around her and people trying to kill her, she wasn't really in the mood for "breathtaking" just now.
"Ah, the good old days!" Fred replied with a snort of amusement, pulling her along, two men with semi-automatic weapons bringing up the rear.
"Car at the East Transcept, Fred! Barney's waiting!"
"Car? What the hell use is a car? Where's the chopper?"
"You don't want to know!"
Fred cursed, pushing her to the right. It occurred to her that with the throbbing in her leg, she was stumbling along like a bloody water buffalo!
The door was open and Lauren could see the awaiting black sedan. Before she knew it, Fred had shoved her into the back seat, and had slammed the door behind her. Then the Brother of Eden jumped into the front seat beside his cohort and the sedan peeled away.
xxxxx
Torn once again by the seat of his tattered pants from the jaws of death, Starbuck breathed a weary sigh of relief as he and Snow White dangled at the end of a flailing towline, flying through the air and over the water towards shore. Behind them, a section of car deck ripped away from the Brooklyn Bridge, groaning and screeching as the metal twisted and then snapped. The high-pitched sound made Starbuck grit his teeth, before the deck crashed noisily into the East River. The moment froze in time as it stood on end like a giant breaching sea mammal, before breaking into sections, and collapsing into the water. He spared a glance at the boat full of people that had been watching their near-death experience unfold. He could still see a man standing on the bow, some kind of vid-cam in his grasp. Another looked as though he was holding a pair of field magnifiers and some kind of Earth communicator.
Enjoying the show? he wondered. Personally, he despised the sort who gathered to watch disasters. Feeders off the pain of others, he'd always deemed them. He curled a lip, while he turned his head to study the approaching shoreline. Thick black smoke hung over New York City, while the scream of sirens echoed across the water. He couldn't see any more fighter craft in the distance, but emergency helicopters were buzzing over the city, transporting rescue workers to where they were needed the most. By the looks of it, a blue and white helo was setting down at a nearby pier, possibly alerted to their predicament. Maybe the people on the boat had contacted them? Regardless, the Lightning pilot who had rescued them was flying in that direction.
Moments later, they were suspended over a pier, fifty metrons or so from the helicopter. He could read "POLICE" on the side in enormous letters with "NEW YORK CITY" in smaller ones beneath it. He was fairly certain it was a civil security force. The Lightning above them was holding its position, lowering them safely to dry ground. As soon as Starbuck's feet hit the surface, he released the towline, putting an arm around Snow White and quickly guiding her towards the POLICE helicopter. He offered a wave up to the fighter as it roared away, back towards base, and watched it drop its decoy and towline over the river.
"Are you alright?" he hollered at Snow White over the thunderous noise from the rotating helicopter blades. Three men in dark uniforms were waiting for them, one heading to meet them with a blanket in his hands.
"I think so," she replied, her arm still firmly around him, as they instinctively crouched down, while they drew nearer. Unlike its military counterpart, there were no cannons on the exterior of this helicopter. However, there did appear to be some kind of surveillance vid-system, which made sense. "Are you?"
"Nothing that a towel and a dry set of clothes won't fix," he replied, grinning at the man holding an outstretched blanket. Starbuck released Snow White and let the emergency worker wrap her up snugly. "Are we ever glad to see you!"
"Are you two okay?" the man shouted at him. "That was one crazy ride you just took!"
"We're fine, just a little wet," Starbuck replied, his gaze once again drawn to the devastated city. Smoke rose into the sky from a hundred points, skyscrapers belched flames, and even as he looked, one buckled, collapsing towards the streets below. "Probably there's someone else who needs your help more than we do."
"Never mind that. Aren't you Captain Starbuck? The Colonial Warrior?" the man asked, steering them both towards the helicopter again, a hand on each of their shoulders from behind
"He sure is!" Snow White announced proudly.
"How'd you know that?" Starbuck asked, hesitating when the glint of an oscillating red light inside the helicopter caught his eye.
Then his head exploded in pain and his knees buckled as he sunk into the darkness. Snow White's scream was the last thing he heard.