DR: I confess. Over this last week I had another look at this chapter and the next, and ended up writing a couple more scenes for them both. I also reorganised the original scenes themselves. The first one here, for example, was originally the first one of next chapter.
Bit: Ah, who cares. Let's just get on with it!
Teal'c: Indeed.
Chapter 15: Dark Council
Count Iblis, for lack of a better expression, was not happy.
He existed in an astral plain, glaring at the Colonial Battlecruiser, hate coursing through his veins. His fists were clenched at his sides, and yet, he could not do a thing. Those meddling light fools were watching him far too closely now. He could out fight any one, but together they would overpower him with ease.
So he was reduced to just glaring, as the Thunderchild moved away from the ruined Alliance Fleet. Not even feasting on the souls of the damned that the Colonials had inadvertently sent him could curb his anger. He knew that this single ship could destroy something he had been working on for centuries.
He'd first come across the planet known as Earth to its inhabitants almost a millennia ago. With the new Cylon Empire now formed, he'd turned his attention to the humans of Earth and began to subtly guide their development. It was nothing more than a whisper in the back of a man's mind, a nudge in a given direction, but from his small prods he'd witnessed great things grow.
As they had developed at faster and faster rates, he had been forced to direct more and more attention to directing them. As he had learned later, this had caused the Colonials to have the breathing space they needed to close the gap between themselves and his Cylon servants, and thus fight them off in a stalemate.
Earth humans had required all his guile, wit and charisma to control. The planet had transformed into a powder keg, delicately balanced, and he had realised that he had to keep it balanced until the time was right.
As he had waited for the right moment, he'd feasted on the fallen souls of humans, those whose actions were directed by him, and thus condemned as evil by their fellows. Napoleon and his generals. The Spanish Inquisitors. Blood thirsty pirates and dictators throughout the ages. Soldiers who killed, raped and defiled because they could. Murderers and drug dealers. The Nazis, and all those who took revenge against them. The Tzars, and those who toppled and executed them. Extremists from all religions. Crimes of hate were delightful works of art for his eyes, and the screams of the innocent victims' music to his ears. And the taste of human souls... he found them intoxicating. The sweetest were those of the innocent, but he could not feast on them except in rare circumstances.
And all the while he dropped a thought here, an impulse there, and slowly he watched his influence grow in the minds of mankind. He was hamstrung by their pathetically short life spans, but he could influence the thinking of a generation a little, and then the one after that he could twist a little more, and the one after even more.
By the end of the 21st century, he knew the time was almost right. Unlike with the Cylons, he had directed humanity to explore organic technology, bending and twisting their own genome. Of course, nearly all the humans knew nothing of this work. Only a select few, which Iblis had invested even more of his time, were aware of the project. Plans were already set for a mass culling of the rest of humanity, to make way for a new, ordered society. He even had thought about pitting these humans against his Cylon pets, to see which would become the stronger, more potent race.
Then everything went to hell, as the humans said. Iblis' hands clenched tighter as he recalled that day, when two separate wormholes, each with a unique temporal signature, had opened almost right on top of the centre were the development of the special cells was being done.
Ten beings had emerged between them. He'd realised quickly that these were future products of the work carried out here, coming back through time to prevent it! However, this realisation came too late to stop them, and all Iblis plans for humanity came crashing down.
Swearing off biological means, he'd returned many years later, and found a pleasant surprise. While he'd been away venting, humanity had continued with machine technology, and had just created their first AI's. Seeing a chance for supreme irony, he'd reached into the minds of the people, dragging up old feuds and grudges, while at the same time reaching deep into the AI's programs. Very quickly, wars had broken out, and everything was set for the AI's to rebel and slaughter their former masters.
Convinced that the Cybrids would perform as well as the Cylons had, he'd moved elsewhere.
However, Earth humans had displayed the same annoying traits that their Colonial brethren did, and the Cybrids had been defeated and driven out of the system.
On his return, he'd found numerous colony's, but one had caught his eye. This dense group of planets and moons was splitting into two factions, and the one was ideal for his means. With greater ease than ever, he once again slipped into the humans psyche, and the resulting war had been bittersweet. At first he considered sending them back down the path they had trodden before, but then something caught his attention.
Hidden in the heart of a tiny moon, created by accretion, lay the debris from an ancient race. The remains of a craft from a war that happened before humanity's roots even arrived on Earth.
That lump of technology, while far too advanced for the humans to ever understand, could function as a starting point to develop their own.
Now only a few years later, and it was already being put into place within the humans systems. The time was close when it would become the new standard for the whole system.
But now these bloody, infuriating Colonials were here, messing things up! If they continued to exist, then the mindless sheep that made up the masses of people would have a symbol to rally round, and all the hard work and effort he had invested into humanity would be lost, again.
Iblis was beginning to think that humans were a curse.
Still, there was a chance. This battlecruiser had to die. If – no, when – it was destroyed, with it would go the hope that held the fragmented resistance against his chosen ones rule together. The Plan would have to be accelerated, greater risks of exposure taken, but it was the only way to win.
X-X-X-X-X-X
Stepping through the hatchway, Mal looked in to see Achilles sat at his desk, head resting on his outstretched forefingers, the other fingers interlaced.
"Reynolds... how does it look?"
Mal shrugged. "Big char mark, but nothing serious." He paused. "You're not looking so good, for someone who just routed a whole fleet."
Achilles sighed. "It was not a battle Reynolds, it was a massacre. Our advantage over them is so great it is not even amusing." He leaned back in his seat, bringing his hands back to rest on the table before him. "I could have destroyed every one of those ships long before any of them could have even locked on to this ship. No Reynolds, that was no battle. It was butchery."
Mal frowned. The weariness and self-loathing in Achilles voice was clear. "You gave them every chance Colonel. You didn't blow their ships apart, just crippled them..."
"Apart from that last one, the command ship." Achilles cut in. "We totally obliterated it..."
"Gorram it Achilles, they were going to ram you!" Mal snapped, interrupting the Colonel. "They forced you to destroy them! You did what you had to do to safeguard your ship and crew!"
"I know, Reynolds, I know." Achilles sighed. "That doesn't mean I have to feel comfortable doing so." He took a deep breath and then sat up straighter. "At least that engagement should prove to the Alliance that it hopeless to engage us."
"I wouldn't count on it." Mal warned. "The Alliance ain't big on taking 'No' for an answer. They'll try again." Mal paused. "What about what the operative said? About the Dominator?"
"That is one of the many things that worries me." Achilles admitted. "We know I didn't destroy that ship, but if that is what the Alliance is telling the people..." He trailed off.
Mal tried to reassure him. "I don't think the people are listening much to the Alliance anymore. From what we picked up while on Persephone, things are going south."
X-X-X-X-X-X
"I am very disappointed."
The Chief Of Staff and the Director of Espionage both stood in the central area of the Cabinet chamber, facing the dark form of the President. The others of the Cabinet looked, some with pity, others with disgust.
"Your fleet, General, had superiority of numbers in terms of warships, and vastly more fighters than these 'Colonials'. And yet... what do we have to show for it? Five cruisers disabled, one frigate wrecked, and one of our advanced 'Judgement' cruisers obliterated. And our fighters and gunships... seventy percent losses!" Some of the cabinet glanced at each other; they had never heard the President speak with any kind of emotion before.
"And what, pray, did our mighty fleet manage to achieve? Negligible damage to their sole warship, and zero losses to their fighters.
"And you, Director, please explain why despite managing to get aboard the hostile ship unopposed, your Hellion Troopers failed!"
Both men stood there, their faces pasty white and hands trembling slightly. Both knew that they each stood on a knife's edge. One wrong word and their necks would fall onto it.
The General was the first to summon his voice. "Mr President... The Colonial ships have exceptional firepower and defence. From what we have gathered so far, it was built to be a heavy warship from the start. The debriefings of the surviving Dominator crew are still ongoing, but they have reported that the interior of the ship is just like the exterior, utilitarian. Most of them have commented that the design on the inside was reassuring, implying great strength in the ships hull.
"From those eyewitness accounts, we can also infer that they have a larger technological advantage over us then we first thought. Including, and the pilot of the transport that docked with the ship confirms, some kind of energy field that keeps an atmosphere within a bay."
"That's impossible." The Science Director snorted. "There is no way to create such a field."
"I'm afraid there is more, much worse." The General continued. "Reports from our surviving fighter pilots indicate that their fighters are armed with the same weapon systems as the larger ship, are faster than our missiles, and have an 'energy bubble' that surrounds them, and which protected them from our own fighters attacks."
Everyone fell silent for a few moments, digesting the uncomfortable news. Then the Admiral tabled his last point.
"Sir, there is one other thing. Our military is, to be blunt, not ready to face a foe like this. For the last seven years our forces have been running down and facing pirates, smugglers and thieves. While these groups can be well armed, they don't have any training, barely any coordination. The Colonial have a military force that, if the crew debriefs are to be believed, has been in a state of war with another race that is technologically superior to them for over nine hundred years!"
Sharp intakes of breath resounded around the chamber. None of those in that chamber could imagine how a nation, even a system wide empire, could withstand being in a state of war for so long. It was close to twelve lifetimes worth!
At last the President spoke. "Very well... You may sit down General." With a audible sigh of relief, the Admiral made his way to his chair before sinking into it. He knew that he'd managed to stave off his own execution... this time.
Attention focused onto the Minister. "So what do you have to say for yourself and your men Minister?"
Perspiration dotted the Ministers forehead. "I... I cannot Mr President. Without the bodies of the Troopers to examine and download their recordings, I have no data to work from."
"What of the recording broadcast by the Colonials, of the initial few seconds of the assault?" The Minister of Truth rasped.
None of the other ministers noted how the Culture Minister paled at the mention of 'that' recording.
"Not much, I'm afraid. Any broadcast by them must be treated as suspect, and so I would not base any conclusions on such."
The President was still for a long moment, before finally speaking. "Very well. Sit down."
Once the Minister had sat down, discretely mopping his brow as he did, the President continued.
"We stand on the edge now. The people are getting restless, the rumours of this ship and its message somehow leaking out. We can not allow it any more. The fleet that engaged the ship is to be destroyed, all records purged."
"But sir..." The Chief of Staff began to protest, but before he could continue twin spines shot out from the rim of the table in front of him and ran him through. Even as he realised what had happened, a powerful cocktail of neurotoxins was pumped into his blood stream. In seconds he was rendered mute as the toxins destroyed his nervous system, before reaching his brain and tearing it apart neuron by neuron. The other Ministers watched in horror as he shook and spasmed, the pain etched in his blackening face, before he slumped over, blood running from his eyes, nose and ears. When the twin spines retracted his body thudded into the table limply.
"I trust no one else will question my orders again?" When there was no reply, the President continued.
"I want the Nightbringer that is following the Colonial ship to close and destroy it. Without that ship to inspire them, the people will back down, at least enough for us to finish the final steps to bring peace and order to the system. True Unity. Now go!"
Wordlessly the others filed out. They were all shocked at the death of the General, but for the Culture Minister it ran deeper.
'What have we become?' She thought, thinking not only of the dead General, but also the Alliance crew butchered by their own Troops, of the casual order to destroy all the ships and settlements that had had contact the Colonial vessel.
Then she realised what she to do, and the thought made her stop where she was, while the other ministers continued to head for their quarters.
Carter: That president is acting very like a Gou'ald...
Teal'c: Indeed.
DR: Okay, from now on the chapters 'should' be locked down, unless anything major comes up during betaing... Next time we learn many distubing facts about the Alliance Troopers, and find out what the Minister has in mind.
For those wondering about how the Alliance was able to create such troopers, I hope this chapter, and the next, ease your concerns...