Our ways
The Cylon fleet was in a state of total chaos.
Raiders rushed back to their motherships, as soon as the orders were given. Aboard those ships, yet, crews found it harder to comply with the orders to jump the fleet to Gaia's orbit. Most of the actual ship-operating tasks were usually handled by centurions and managed by the local hybrids. Throughout the Cylon fleet all the centurions were still disabled. The hybrids, on the other hand, were very reluctant to comply with any order that would see the fleet in orbit above that nearby planet.
Humanoid Cylons were scrambling around, struggling to regain ship-control by themselves. They were, by design, equipped to interface with their ships, but didn't have the practice of flying them. Nor did they like doing the actual work of operating their ships.
Worse yet - many of the artificial lifeforms themselves were reluctant to comply. Arguments broke out between the various models onboard. On most ships, arguments deteriorated into shouting. On three separated ships, shouting deteriorated into full-on fights. Firearms were still misfiring, for an inexplicable reason, but most Cylons were strong and able in hand-to-hand combat.
"Just so you know," a model Eight told the beaten One, whom she pushed into an airlock," resurrection communications are interrupted throughout the fleet!" She then pressed the button, not truly interested in what the One tried to scream back as he was expelled out to space.
By the end of it, two Basestars were taken over and jumped away, to start on their long way back home. Two others stood down, not willing, or ready, to commit to any line of action. One ship was lost to infighting, her jump engines disrupted by the sudden death of her hybrid. In the end, of the twelve-ship fleet, only seven were ready to jump to orbit as ordered.
In a small cloaked shuttle, a few Nox looked on in grim resignation. War and death were not the Nox way. Neither was interfering in other races' inner fighting.
"They are getting ready to jump to Gaia's orbit," one of the crew updated. This strange space-folding FTL engine put out a very noticeable energy build, when charging for the jump. Also, since this engine influenced space both at the origin and target points, sensitive enough sensors could pinpoint the jump destination in advance.
"I have transported a sensor drone aboard," the shuttle attendant updated. This was a very interesting opportunity for the Nox. They have never witnessed this kind of propulsion at work. They weren't mad enough to stay aboard for the jump, but were very curious to get the best readings possible.
"Take us home?" Lya asked.
Now, the space folding propulsion, which both the Cylons and colonials were using was practically instantaneous. Naturally, Nox inter-galactic hyperspace engines were even faster. By the time the Cylon fleet reappeared, the little Shuttle was already there to witness it. Their hyperspace window, even the small, shuttle size one, was visible in the middle of the Cylon fleet. The humanoid Cylons, however, were preoccupied. It did add to the distress of the hybrids, but they were already quite stressed at this time and in any case - no one was listening to them.
"Fascinating," the attendant remarked at the initial reading received by the sensors. "Transferring sensor data to the research centre," he then updated. This research centre was located on a barren moon, several dozen lightyears away from Gaia. The kind of science mature races were researching and experimenting with tended to be of the hazardous kind and races did not grow into maturity by being careless.
Well, apart from the Asgard, that is. And the Alterans at times. And no one actually knew what exactly happened to the Furlings…
"I need to get to the control hall," Lya commented softly.
"Certainly," the attendant took her words as the orders they actually were, and the shuttle started its descent to the surface. Five minutes later, it landed in the city's dock.
Transporters were very useful, but the technology disintegrated any matter, scanned it, broadcasted the data, then reconstructed the original form from the patterns on the other side. Nox happily used transporters to move cargo and goods. Even as a weapon delivery system, if needed.
But not to move living beings about.
"Multiple targets on DRADIS," Shouted one of the crewmen on shift.
"Targets identified as seven Basestars to the north," Lt Geata updated. "Launching Raiders!"
"Set condition one across the fleet. Get ships ready to jump to first rendezvous coordinates. Launch Vipers!" Col Tigh ordered.
We got complacent, he thought gravely to himself.
Comm around CIC erupted into an incomprehensible noise as simultaneously every ship, shuttle, and fighter called out for help, instructions, and reinforcements.
"Launch all Vipers!" Adama ordered as he rushed into CIC. "Status?" he then asked.
"Seven Basestars jumped in, sir. Launching Raiders," Tigh updated.
"We have people on the surface," Geata went on. "Dozens of sublight-only shuttles distributing supplies and moving people around. Two ships with engines down for maintenance, sir!"
"We were caught with our pants down," Tigh offered gravely.
"How much time do we have left?" Adama asked.
Outside, in space, the two CAP flights headed towards the Cylon ships, trying to gain some time. It will take the rest of their wings long minutes to arrive and help. Not that the eighty-something Vipers the Galactica was able to launch were able to repel such a fleet of Basestars.
"Galactica, this is Starbuck on CAP 2," Kara shouted into the comm. "Cylon fleet of seven Basestars, repeat - seven Basestars jumped into orbit. About ten minutes out. Launching Raiders. Heading to engage."
"Frak!" shouted her wingman.
It was the most accurate word to describe the situation at the moment. All Basestars were launching what looked like all the Raiders available to them.
"Artemis!" Starbuck whispered to herself. She had never shirked from battle, but the two thousands and some Raiders now launched were beyond courage. Beyond even madness.
Those Raiders, however, were behaving in a very uncharacteristic way. A couple of hundred of the Raiders launched were heading towards the Galactica and the fleet. Most, on the other hand, rushed away from the planet below and the Basestars which launched them. Those started to jump away as soon as they gained enough distance from their motherships.
Couple of hundred Raiders she could handle!
At the control hall, at the top of a Nox city, attendant Mor reached her hand to press a large red button at the centre of the control panel in front of her. She was stopped by a slight shake of Chief Rimon's head.
"Let them learn fear for a while longer," he offered. Rimon said this with a serious and focused tone of voice, which was very unbecoming of a Nox of his status.
It was this moment that Lya walked calmly into the observation balcony.
"Councillors," she offered with a nod of respect.
"Welcome home, Councillor Lya," Opher greeted her warmly.
"Rumour has it that you have become just as proficient in handling first contact events as your great-grandmother was," Councillor Tuphie remarked amicably. He had turned much more friendly and supportive, once this burden of meeting with the colonials came off his shoulders.
"Yet this fighting still happens," Councillor Taliyah remarked with an indulgent tone.
Opher, in turn, gave Lya a kind smile. "Lya is our specialist," he answered. "We do not expect her to be a miracle worker."
"I do hope I'm a quicker learner than my great-grandmother," Lya replied to Tuphie's remark, disregarding the other one. "This feeling of being integral part of the universe, yet disconnected from life, while your body is being repaired, isn't agreeable at all."
Taliyah tilted his head with some surprise sowing on his face. He had heard others tell differently. Some said they were ready to move on and were disappointed to be pulled back to their bodies. Most told about there being nothing but waiting patiently. About a handful through the ages talked about the temptation of the universe being at their finger tips.
"Crews are ready on board," updated an attendant from one of the posts. Operations already remoted the ships themselves to position.
"Tell them to wait for our signal," the Chief instructed.
"Small crafts are engaging," called another attendant. "Missiles fired," he updated soon after.
At her central station, Attendant Mor moved to press the button. She was stopped by chief Rimon's raised finger.
In observation, Councillor Lya giggled lightly. She then hurried to cover her slightly greening face with her hands in embarrassment, when the other Councillors turned to look at her either with amusement or disbelief.
Kara Thrace, "Starbuck" to the people she served with, was leading a flight of Vipers on CAP duty when the Cylons appeared. As was usual these days, her flight partners were a bunch of nuggets, whom she used the mission time to train.
"Listen," she ordered. "Our mission is to delay and wait for the rest of the Vipers to arrive. Take out as many as you can, but be heroes only after reinforcements are here." She ordered.
Usually, the very presence of Vipers would have tempted the Raiders to follow and engage, which interrupted their mission. This time the Raider present kept their vectors of attack towards the fleet.
"Radiation readings!" called the local Raptor's ECM officer.
"Frak!" one of the young pilots expressed everyone's thoughts.
'Frak' actually didn't cover it. The same time the Raiders launched their missiles, all Basestars had done the same.
"Turn around and engage!" Starbuck ordered. "Prioritise radiation signatures!"
"A minute and a half for reinforcements!" announced the ECM operator.
In the Galactica's CIC, the situation turned from grim to desperate.
"Missiles incoming!" announced Lt Geata. "Radiation warnings! Seven minutes out!"
"Ready point defence!" Adama ordered. "Return missiles fire, he then added softly."
In all reality, this was hopeless. The Galactica, even at the height of her days, fully manned and equipped and not burdened by the need to defend a helpless civilian fleet - couldn't possibly battle and survive seven modern Basestars. Nevermind win the day.
Comm was still choked with all those shouts and pleads for help coming from the civilian fleet. Shuttles caught in the open were struggling to reach FTL-able ships. Any FTL-able ship. Those ships, at the same time, were rushing to spool their engines. Most ships of the civilian fleet will most likely succeed in time - if the Galactica will stay behind to buy them that time. The two freighters on the surface might also be safe there for long enough to escape the planet's gravity well and jump away. Both were trying to lift off and escape, but were suffering engine problems once more - No one in CIC could spare a thought regarding them.
The main issue was that both the Adrasteia and the Dashur, carrying more then two thousands passengers between the two ships, will not be ready in time due to some maintenance. Both ships huddled together, trying to find shelter behind some of the larger ships in the fleet, even though those couldn't even protect themselves, and certainly couldn't delay their jump away.
"We are depleting our magazines," Tigh commented softly.
Cmd Adama didn't reply - there was nothing to it.
Across this seven-minute spread of space, the Basestars seemed to be doing just the same. Each ship in the fleet had hundreds of missiles heading for her. Many of those were nuclear. Many were also targeting the planet below. Those ones were randomly spread since the Cylon sensors couldn't locate any targets on the surface.
"Take us forward," Adama ordered. "We'll try to handle as many of the missiles as we can. Also order the Vipers to focus on the missiles and disregard the Raiders."
These orders gave the Galactica point defence grid better angles and range to engage more of the incoming missiles. The price will be paid in time. No one bothered to discuss the other price the Galactica and her Viper squadrons will have to pay for this desperate effort.
"Raiders are jumping away after launching their payloads!" came Starbuck's voice over the radio. "Approaching first missile," she updated, then - "Frak - gun misfire!"
Before anyone had a chance to reply, all comm networks, both short and long range ones, turned to statics.
"What are they doing?!" Cavil shouted. Things were not going his way. Also, a balanced and tempered personality was never his thing.
"Getting as far as possible away from this cursed place?" Capricia asked/replied bluntly.
Even if things were, generally speaking, not going to plan, not everything was going badly. The colonial fleet had been caught unguarded and was struggling to regain control and flee once more. Cylons were not about to give them this chance.
"Launch everything!" Cavil ordered.
"We'll be left with no reserves!" a model Five warned.
"It ends now. Launch on the planet too!" Cavil insisted.
Out there, the Galactica and her Viper squadrons were still struggling to position themselves to best engage the incoming missiles. There was no real hope for her, but -
"Get us to gun range!" Cavil ordered.
"There's no need?" a Three tried to argue.
"Might I remind you that resurrection is still down?" Leobam commented dryly. It went without saying that getting to gun range with the Galactica also meant entering the Battlestar's very capable defence-grid's range.
But there was no listening - "Today the rest of humanity dies and the universe will be left for us," Cavil stated.
"Galactica is launching," a Four model updated from DRADIS. "Multiple missiles targeting all Basestars. Conventional and nuclear mix," he added and their collective heart sunk. Normally, this type of an attack was handled by the Raiders, but they had already fled.
"Activate point defence grid," came the predictable order.
"By whom, you idiot?!" Capricia shouted back. "All the centurions are offline!"
Get the fleet ready to jump!" a Three ordered. Cavil wanted to argue, but at this moment, this was their only defence.
"All communications are lost," Leoban updated, and the Cylon centre of operations descended into deathly silence.
"Jump engine spooling, three minutes," Capricia called.
"Missiles incoming, three minutes," Leoban added.
There was nothing more to say.
In the Nox control hall, Attendant Mor pointed at the red button on her main console with a questioning look.
Chief Rimon answered this unvoiced question with a slight shake of his head. He now had an enigmatic smile on. One which was most certainly worthy of a Nox. It was so untypical of him, surprise almost showed on the faces of the present Councillors.
"Three minutes to impact," stated one of the attendants.
"Forty two warheads headed to Gaia," another stated.
Yet Chief Rimon found this time appropriate for some small talk. "Been to the races this weekend," he told Mor at his side. "Fourth place at the middleweight super-pods!" he went on, showing some calm pride. It was a well deserved pride - Nox club-level super-pod races were well known to be very competitive.
"After-race party was pleasant," Rimon went on. "The band was better than even Alteran opera."
"Very good!" Mor was rightfully impressed.
"I envy you so much!" Lya answered. "We have a classic CloudGlider wasting away under a preservation shield in our garage. Got it from Anteaus' mother. Didn't activate it for fifty years!
"You might have some free time due, after this incident is over with," Opher kindly offered.
"I'll meet you at the next race," Rimon presented a clear challenge.
"Two minutes," the attendant updated them calmly.
"Bring it on!" Lya accepted the challenge with a smile.
"I still prefer Alteran opera over all this new nonsense," Councillor Taliyah remarked in a detached way.
"Societies need to make progress, friend Taliyah," Councillor Tuphie replied amicably.
"One minute," the Attendant updated on time and chief Rimon finally pointed at the button. Mor pressed it immediately and with some satisfaction showing. This was probably the most significant press of a button made in a Nox control hall for two millennia. Might even be for tens of thousands of years. And it happened on her shift!
Deep in Gaia's atmosphere forty-two falling warheads disappeared with flashes of white light.
"Tell our ships to wait 45 seconds, then execute," Rimon instructed the Attendant at the communications post. On display, this 45 seconds counter started running down.
"Asgard transporter tech was always the best," Councillor Taliyah said with some appreciation.
"Might be time for us to finally send them a word," Tuphie kind of agreed.
He was answered with clear uncomfortable stares from all the other Councillors present.
"Three minutes for impact!" shouted an ensign from the status table post.
"Fire point defence grid," Col Tigh ordered. They waited this long to conserve ordnance. Especially in this desperate situation, they needed every shell to count.
A short commotion at the weapon control post followed. "Point defence offline!" a shout finally came back.
"What?!" Adama shouted back. He wasn't the one to lose his cool in front of his men. Certainly not the one to raise his voice on them. But, this situation was pushing him past his limits.
"Get it working!" Tight ordered their desperate men. Not that they were not trying their best without this pointless order. Both officers got closer to the fire control post. It was already too late to do any good, but people still worked hectically to have the system working.
"It's not the system," a young officer explained. "The guns themself won't fire."
"One minute!" the ensign cried out. One could hear the fear in his voice. Adama could understand this fear - it took all that he had not to order the Galactica away, and the hell with the civilian fleet.
"Tell…" he started to order, then remembered that all communications were down. He just hoped that whichever ship that was able to, would have the sense to jump away without an order.
Then, just to top it all, every screen in CIC turned off, to show a 'no signal' notice.
"Locals really want us dead," Tigh commented humourlessly.
"I want eyes outside!" Adama ordered. By design, CICs of Battlestars did not have windows.
Throughout the ship, people were rushing to viewports with binoculars, to have a look and update CIC through the old phone lines running the length and width of the ship.
Ships could no longer even jump to escape. They still had the coordinates for the planned jump from the last update, but folding space depended on knowing the ship's current location with pinpoint accuracy. Any Jump with no active and updated sensor information, especially from within a star system and from the orbit of an actual planet, would be a very blind one. The Galactica had a way to make emergency blind jumps, but any civilian ship had a safety system installed, to prevent such mistakes.
"Port viewport has visual on multiple incoming missiles," Dualla updated with a shaking voice, holding a line handset up. "Flashes of light from the direction of the Cylon fleet!" she then added.
"Last sensor information indicated 15 seconds," Lt Geata updated.
"Brace for impact on portside!" Adama called. Not that he knew just how one braces for certain death.
"It's been an honour," he then told Col Tigh, for him only to hear.
"Not always a pleasure, I'm sure," came the dry response.
A few more extremely long seconds dripped away then a series of dull banging noises reverberated all along the ship.
"What was that?" someone whispered. CIC was so quiet it was heard by everyone.
"V… View p… port reports n… no detonations," Dualla's voice stuttered slightly. "Multiple hits and no detonation visible at all," she elaborated.
"Maybe the locals do want us alive," Adama mumbled.
"Two minutes," Leoban updated at the right moment. It was too close a call to know whether their jump engines would come online in time to get away from the missiles heading for them.
No one else said anything, since there was nothing to really say.
"Sixty seconds," Leoban deadpanned at the right moment. Still staring coldly at Cavil.
"Humanity and their children - gone at the same time," Capricia remarked dryly. "How fitting!"
Then, with a cry of surprise, Leoban drew his hand out of the interface basin. At the same moment, all screens around Operations turned black.
"End of line," stated the hybrid in melancholy.
"What just happened?" Cavil shouted.
"All sensors are offline," a Three answered coldly.
They were blind. Modern Basestars did not include windows or viewports anywhere in the design. They were artificial biological beings, for god's sake. They could all interface with the sensors directly if they fancied a look outside. Also, their escape way was now blocked. No ship could jump with no updated sensor readings. Certainly not with the hybrids being scared stiff.
"You killed us all," Leoban stated, staring at Cavil.
"I…" he started to say, but only a choked exhale came out. A second later his body fell to the floor, with a long knife protruding from his back.
"Wanted to do this for a while now," an Eight growled.
"If you get the chance," Capricia ordered the hybrid, "box his line!"
Around operations, a handful of other One models shuddered.
Just then, that same hybrid, in her basin, cried out a wail of fear. Operations was bathed in white light and when the light faded nuclear warheads were spread throughout the hall. If they took the time, local Cylons would have counted forty two of them. Each one emitting the whirring sound of a timer-detonator running down.
"Quick, disarm them!" A Five shouted.
"How?" a Three answered.
Cylon safety protocols for the handling of nuclear weapons were strict and made sure no accidents were possible. However, they didn't care much for radiation. Being mechanical artificial consciousnesses, only the centurions ever handled any radioactive devices and materials.
Then, the noise stopped. For an eternity of a single second operation hall was silent as a grave, before the staccato sound of the detonators failing to explode filled the place. Someone roared in pure rage, but no one noticed just who.
In the darkness of space, both above Gaia and a handful of light days away, several hyperspace windows opened. With no operating sensors for them to notice it happening, nine large ships were pulled into and through hyperspace to a location far and out of the way. They were then left there, a handful of hours later.
"Done!" Chief Rimon stated, as soon as hyperspace closed off behind their parting ships. "Please deactivate the emergency fleet when back, then return sensors and communications control to the colonial fleet?" he asked Attendant Mor, who was happy to comply.
"Brilliant!" Lya commented with some satisfaction. It made the other people turn and stare at her.
"London does rob off on you," Opher told her casually.
"I need some rest," Lya replied and walked out of control with her head held high, leaving several amused Councillors and attendants behind.
It was about a week after that eventful day when Commander Adama and the President hesitantly walked into the orchard clearing once more. That strange woman, Lya, was already waiting there patiently for them to arrive and sit in front of her.
For the first couple of days, all they could do was to try and ease the state of total panic the fleet was in. Frankly, it was understandable. The loss of communications, followed by the total loss of control, couldn't have been missed by the population. No one could explain what had exactly happened. Nor could they say just where the Cylon fleet had disappeared to. All people could do was to thank the lords of Kobol for delivering them once more from destruction.
"Zeus opened the heavens themselves and pulled the Cylons away in a storm of wind and lightning!" stated one man on cloud 9, again and again, to every person in his vicinity and every camera willing. "I have seen it with my own eyes!"
"All I could see were flashes of light," said the marines, who managed to reach the viewport on the Galactica. "It was too far to notice any details, even with a strong binoculars."
"It was Zeus, I tell you!" the man from cloud 9 still insisted, yet the fact that he just dropped his almost empty bottle of Ambrosia, made his testimony a little less trustworthy.
Unsurprisingly, people were not at all thankful for neither their government, nor the military, for saving them.
President Roslin had to fight her way through many calls for her dismissal and replacement, not one of those making the calls offered any kind of viable alternative. There were also increasingly vocal calls for them to settle on the planet below. The explanations that this planet was inhabited by an alien race, which wasn't willing to share, were met with blatant disbelief. Also, the calls for the replacement of Roslin as the leader of their shaky government increased even more.
Military, meanwhile, were running around, trying to collect as much as they possibly could of the unexploded ordnance now floating around the various ships. The risk of these warheads suddenly going Boom was a very real one. The Galactica was also low on ammunition for a while now. This last futile struggle had completely depleted her magazines. Thank the lords that Cylon missiles were of the same calibre as the colonial ones.
The Galactica was also making an effort to locate the missing Cylon fleet. Miracles and gods aside, the Basestars' fleet return was still imminent and they had no delusions regarding their ability to repel another such attack. Raptors were sent in all directions, as far as three short jumps away at time, but there was no trace of the Cylons anywhere.
They also did their best to get in touch with the locals, but the Nox were not picking up the phone. Also, no ship or shuttle had managed to approach the planet ever since.
"Come in Gaia," both the Galactica and Colonial-1 broadcasted again and again on all common frequencies. "We would like to thank you. We have things to discuss," the messages said. There was only silence on the other side.
Finally a short message returned - "Come!" it said. "One small shuttle."
It took some debate and some heated disputes too, but only the President and the Commander came to the surface with that Raptor. Boomer piloted it, without her usual ECM operator present. They also brought the reporter D'Anna Biers with them, to do her job. She was popular, had a well-earned reputation of being professionally unbiased, and was trusted by the public. Last thing they needed right then was for wild conspiracy theories regarding what the leadership 'hid' from the public on the surface to start flying.
"Thank you," Roslin stated simply, as soon as she and Adama were seated. "We pray for the gods to bless you for your help," she added.
Lya didn't reply and only graciously nodded in return, keeping her enigmatic smile on.
"Where is the Cylon fleet?" Adama had to ask. "We went looking and couldn't locate them anywhere close by."
"They are too far for you to find," Lya replied plainly.
"You are truly too advanced for us to recognise your technology," Adama remarked in astonishment.
"Nox are a mature race," Lya replied with the simple truth. She was somewhat satisfied.
They were starting to understand.
"And this is the way you live?" Roslin was surprised. This wasn't what she envisioned advanced life to be like. "Are you all vegetarians?" she then asked, truly intrigued.
"We do not believe that one life is superior to another," Lya answered what was basic Nox lore for tens of thousands of years now.
"Yet you protected us from the Cylons?" D'Anna found herself asking. She was worried for her people. She was also not too happy about being in the colonial fleet and apparently far outside resurrection range.
For a long moment, long enough for Biers to fidget uncomfortably in her seat, Lya just stared at her in silence.
This strange woman, Lya, couldn't possibly know just by looking at her? Right?!
Lya then turned her eyes to Boomer, and gave her the same curious look. Suddenly D'Anna Biers was certain the woman knew. Just how? She couldn't even guess. Lya then turned back to the President. "There will be no more death," she answered, looking into Roslin's eyes. It was all said in a soft and reassuring way, yet there was power behind Lya's words.
This is the power of a people assured in their safety, Adama thought.
This answer brought up something the President was anxious to ask, yet forgot up till now. "Did you heal me?" she asked. "I felt warmth coming from your hands, the last time we parted ways. A few days ago, when I went to receive my usual treatment, I was all well. Scans our doctor did could find nothing wrong. How did you do it?"
Lya Just nodded graciously, for the perceived thanks. "Our ways," she answered. It was all getting somewhat tedious and Lya amused herself by repeating Anteaus' non-answers to the Tau'ri, to the exact same questions these Colonials were asking.
"You are truly not humans?" Adama asked, already knowing the answer. The President had already been through this discussion, and Boomer was present when Dr Baltar suggested the possibility, but Biers was truly and utterly shocked by this prospect.
Humans were predictable…
"Would you teach your medicine to us?" the predictable question followed. "Being able to better treat our sick and wounded will greatly benefit our people," the President needlessly explained their need for it.
"No" Lya answered, just as Anteaus did back then.
Anteaus didn't like the Tau'ri and their warring ways much. Lya didn't like the colonials, with their hunting and polluting propulsion any better. They were, however, quite desperate and for very real reasons. It's not like the Nox minded looking the other way, while other races destroyed themselves and each other. They didn't even mind looking right on. But, this was happening in their own orbit, so the Nox Council agreed to deviate a bit from their ways and make some concessions.
"Can you help us better protect ourselves?" Commander Adama asked the next expected question. "Take our home worlds back?" he added hopefully. Lya just ignored the questions with a small smile. From his reaction, Commander Adama didn't have many hopes regarding.
Good!
Handing growing races, any races that is, better technology to do damage with, was most certainly not the Nox way. Nor was taking sides in their disputes.
Meanwhile, Laura was distracted by her unexpectedly prolonged Life Expectancy. She wasn't the dying leader any more, leading her people to Earth. The downside, if one can see it that way, was that she would now probably live long enough to see some of the consequences of her decisions. Maybe be forced to accept responsibility for mistakes she made.
"Do you know, perhaps, the location of our thirteenth tribe?" the President asked. "We are hoping they will give us shelter in their home. You told us you are familiar with the planet Earth?" There was hope, mixed up with hopelessness in her voice.
Lya didn't enjoy this at all, yet she was the specialist and meeting with other races was apparently her responsibility.
"The only race to use the same word you are using as the name of their home planet are the Tau'ri," Lya explained calmly. Almost pointedly.
"Can you tell us the coordinates for that planet?" Adama asked, but was already expecting the answer.
"The Tau'ri are located across the galaxy from here. Your ships will not manage the passage," Lya explained plainly. "You are also not ready for the other races you will encounter on your way there. Also, the Tau'ri are still a growing race," she further explained. "We will not burden them with helping you settle."
She will notify the Tau'ri about the colonials and their location, though. It will be the Tau'ri's choice to make contact with them, or not.
"Will you not help us at all?" the President asked. Only desperation was left in her voice now.
We already saved you from your enemies…
It was time for Lya to channel her inner chief Rimon. This wasn't enjoyable for her at all.
"It is not the Nox way to help growing races. We have tried in the past and they came out worse for it," she said in a measured voice. The word 'Asgard' floated once more in her mind, together with the shame associated with it.
Maybe I can reach out to them, now that I'm the specialist.
The president wanted to say something more, but Lya stopped her with a raised finger.
Thanks Hermione! She was a little amused once more.
"Being bad hosts to our guests isn't the Nox way too. Therefore you have a decision to make. We recognised a life supporting planet, some way from here, where your people can find a home."
That planet was inhabited in the past and isn't any more, yet the colonials didn't need to know that.
"We can hand you the exact coordinates and detailed star maps, so you can make your way there. Most of your fleet will be able to reach that destination, yet our experts doubt these ships will be space-worthy, once you've reached it.
"You can also make the choice to abandon your fleet here," Lya went on in a levelled and measured tone.
Adama looked like he wanted to ask something, but fortunately reconsidered.
"We will then enable you to reach that planet using another, much safer method."
"What will you do with our fleet?" Adama voiced his question this time.
Lya looked at him with her head slightly tilted. He didn't need to know that she was meanwhile listening to Councillor Opher and Chief Rimon discussing options.
"We will most likely jump it into a star or a black-hole," she replied. "You might do so yourself, if you like?" she offered.
Both the President and the Commander modded slightly in understanding.
"Naturally, you are also free to leave and go your own way," Lya went on. No one ever said that first contacts didn't leave a little place for humour and amusement. "We will even supply you with some better charts, but there are no un-inhabited, life-supporting planets for several thousands of light-years from Gaia, and you are not ready to meet with the natives of those which are inhabited," she concluded, and no one even considered to question her facts.
"May we have a few more days to consider our options?" the President asked, and Lya replied with a soft smile and a graceful node.
In the end, the colonials sort of chose both options.
More than half the fleet chose to head to the destination planet by ship. For one, those had many resources aboard. Resources which the colonials wanted to preserve. Even if those ships will be in need of a complete overall to be space worthy once more, and if the new colony will have to rebuild its industry from the ground up to do so - it was still a better starting point for the new colony than having nothing at all.
The colonials were rightly afraid of a severe deterioration in their technological level during the resettling effort. There were also the weapons the Galactica carried to consider, yet they did not mention this to their hosts.
Also, and they were reluctant to discuss this even among themselves - there were many people within the fleet both Roslin and Adama were afraid will never agree to go back, or move on through the portal, once set foot aground. Elosha especially had to be persuaded to head out with the travelling fleet, 'to give them support and faith in their time of need'. She was one woman neither the President, and certainly not Commander Adama, wanted with the people during the long wait for the news of the travelling fleet's arrival to come.
For the people who stayed behind it was a nerve-wracking month till word from the fleet on its passage finally arrived. Just how did a message cross a distance of more than five thousand light-years and was still live? Only the Nox knew and they were not explaining.
Already rumours regarding the enigmatic inhabitants of the planet below were running rampant. The image of Lya sitting calmly in the orchard made headlines. Dr Baltar's hypothesis about them not being humans helped tremendously.
This theory received loads of scorn and hate from the more religiously inclined within the population. This fairly large fraction was headed by the priestess Elosha, Just before she was sent away with the travelling fleet. She didn't forgive the President for not bringing her along to the last meeting with the thirteeners, as she insisted on calling them. This fraction was focused on praying for their lost souls and trying to get access, so they could lead the locals to the light.
Wisely, they were blocked from having any access to the surface - not that any shuttle could manage without clear permission from the locals.
Another, just-as-religious faction, decided that beyond any doubt, the beings met on this garden-planet were their own Lords of Kobol, who came to deliver them once more from destruction. Naturally, it was explained, they must be hiding themselves from recognition using this quirky and humble appearance. It was simply inconceivable that the mighty lords of Kobol were, well…
This group too was blocked from heading to the surface. President Roslin had the feeling that Lya would not appreciate being worshipped. Not that it stopped them from trying, but the freighter that they took over couldn't even reach orbit before her engines inexplicably failed.
Most of the colonials were simply tired. They were also happy, yet somewhat disbelieving, regarding the prospect of a planet to settle on. Especially one which was supposedly out of the reach of the Cylons. It was a logical disbelief - If such an amazing planet existed and was within reach of these strange strange people, why would they let the colonials have it and not move there themselves? Especially now that the natives here were at imminent risk of the Cylons coming back to destroy them too?
Finally, and right after the message from the travelling fleet arrived, the Nox sent another short message.
"One shuttle!" it said.
The colonial delegation were surprised to see Lya waiting for them at the edge of the orchard instead of the now-regular clearing. They were also surprised to find Anteaus once more with her. They were even more surprised to be introduced to Chief Rimon who joined them.
"Greetings," Anteaus offered kindly.
"We believe that you would like to visit with your people on the destined planet before committing your people to the portal," Lya added sympathetically.
"This way," Chief Rimon said curtly.
Just as he said so, a large metal ring, some seven metres tall, appeared in front of their group. With another motion of the chief's hand, seven contraptions of some sort lit around the periphery of the ring, then the surface inside it was filled with what looked like a pool of water, only this pool was vertical as the metal ring. It also didn't spill.
"The portal is connected," Anteaus explained. "All you need to do is to walk through."
"Like so," the man, Rimon, said, and walked up the ramp and into the standing puddle of water, where he promptly disappeared. This was supposed to persuade the visitors to follow, but it failed miserably.
A marines, from the security unit which was left behind to support Roslin's government till contact with the travelling fleet could be regained, ran around the ring to look for Rimon on the other side - where he was not.
"What is this sorcery, he shouted, when back, now pointing his pistol at Lya and Anteaus. Lya frowned. Frankly, she had had enough with these miserable, petty, mean, and violent humans, although they did have good reasons to be desperate.
"Marine, stand…" Lee Adama started to order, but the handgun now disappeared out of the man's hands
"We are so sorry for…" the President started to apologise, when the standing puddle of water, inside the ring, suddenly vanished.
"What happened?" she asked, quite alarmed. She didn't have much trust in this strange contraption. Certainly not as a transportation method. However…
"Chief Rimon noticed that no one followed, so he probably disconnected from the other side, to come back," Lya explained patiently. She couldn't wait for these humans to be away, but patience and kindness were the best tools to reach this noble goal.
"Better take a step back," Anteaus offered. Right on time, since the ring gave a notice sound, then a huge splash of the water-like substance shot a few metres out of the ring. It took several seconds for it to settle into the calm pool it previously was.
"The unstable vertex will destroy any matter it comes in contact with," the man explained helpfully. Captain Lee Adama and the President took an alarmed step back.
"Is it safe?" Laura asked with some concern. She was expected to send the remains of humanity through this strange contraption in a couple of days.
"It has been in use, throughout the galaxy, millions of years before we Nox even existed," the woman, Lya, answered, as if it explained everything.
All this was starting to grate on President Roslin's nerves. She has never been so out of her element in her life! Being told she is dying from cancer was a shock, but a sad part of human life. Even having every one of their home-worlds destroyed by Cylons was easier to accept. Colonials of Laura's age have grown with this exact fear from birth. This easy control the Nox exhibited on the world around them; The things they found common; It was truly unsettling.
Just then, a ripple in the pond pulled their attention, and soon enough this Rimon person came back out. He was holding someone's hand, though. This someone turned out to be a very shaken Commander Adama.
"Father!" Lee exclaimed. Somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, Lee Adama was certain he would never see his father again.
Lee didn't even manage to move towards his father, and another Nox, one unknown to them, came out of the ring. This one was leading Dr Baltar behind her.
"A stable wormhole, created between the two connected portals," Lya answered the yet to be asked question. "Much safer than your dodgy FTL propulsion," she added, and every Nox present identified both the veracity of this fact, and the satisfaction in her voice. It was well hidden and only Nox people would notice, as appropriate for a specialist like Lya now was.
"Wo… Wormhole?" Baltar asked hesitantly. "Those are just an unproven theory?"
Chief Rimon stared at him, in response, clearly conveying the fact that Baltar has just been through one. Clear even to Baltar himself, that is.
"Can I take a camera through?" Biers asked, with some enthusiasm showing. Lya motioned her forward and the portal re-engaged. "How do I come back?" Biers then hesitantly asked.
About thirty minutes later, people from the forward fleet were back on the destination planet, and several of the fleet which stayed behind made the return trip. D'Anna Biers edited the footage of her round trip to broadcast it to the waiting people up in orbit. Migration day was set to two days later.
Two days only, Lya thought.
Travel day came by, overcast and drizzly. People ferried to the planet by the two freighters, in groups of about two thousands. They have seen Biers' report about the portal and theoretically know what to expect. Still some incredulity persisted.
Group by group the people were led by their leaders into the portal and to the new world, where the other half of the people waited. There was a lot of work to be done - that planet was a completely clean slate.
Some uneasiness was unavoidable too.
"Thank you for saving us once more, our lords," a man told Lya in reverence, as a group of about twenty more fell to their knees in front of the three Nox present.
"Nox have never presented themselves as gods in front of growing races," Lya answered coldly.
"We will pray for you and seek your guidance, my lady," the man insisted. "And praise your humbleness, lady!".
Lya's face turned slightly green at this. Behind her Anteaus was struggling to control his laughter. Might have seemed even more enigmatic than usual to the humans.
It was finally time for last goodbyes.
"Will we see you again?" the President asked, right before crossing herself.
"It is not our way."
"How can we contact you?" Biers asked, and was not even acknowledged.
"Can you tell us how to use this portal?" Lee Adama asked. Clearly the galaxy was a larger and much more crowded place than they have ever imagined.
"You are not ready for the other races of this galaxy," Lya kindly repeated her former answer to this same question. "Take the time to grow and establish yourselves."
It was a show of kindness, really, although the colonials had probably seen it as patronising. They were truly not ready for the galaxy and the space faring races in it.
"Would you at least tell us where the Cylon fleet is?" Lee insisted. "Can they reach us?" he stressed. The colonials were in no shape to protect themselves and will not be for many years to come.
Lya was now willing to answer this question in a fashion. "A few ships returned to their original home. The ones which tried to attack you are far. Neither will be able to locate or reach your planet," Chief Rimon offered the information.
It was finally time for the last of the colonials to cross. They were disappointed, but not surprised, to see the Portal ring disappear behind their backs.
Finally! Lya thought.
Huge shout to flyboy38, my beta, who took the time to make sure this story is a much better read.