Chapter 2: Halloween Part 2
October 31, 1997 – Friday
Earth 3
Battlestar Valkyrie – 4:30 PM
Shira Brynn's footsteps echoed with a mix of determination and trepidation as she stepped into the Combat Information Center (CIC). The room buzzed with controlled chaos, a symphony of urgency and tension. The air itself seemed to hold its breath as if aware of the gravity of the moment.
"Commander on deck," came the crisp announcement from Lieutenant Shaw, her voice carrying a blend of respect and alertness that resonated through the room like a rallying cry. Every corner of the CIC snapped to attention, a synchronized salute rippling through the ranks as Shira's presence commanded both deference and hope.
With purposeful strides, Shira navigated the sea of uniformed personnel, her eyes locking onto Colonel Wilson stationed by the DRADIS console. The exchange of glances between commander and second-in-command spoke of shared burdens and unspoken determination. "At ease. XO, sitrep," Shira uttered, her words a soothing balm to the hearts of those who sought guidance amidst the storm.
Colonel Wilson's voice held a hint of weariness, mingled with a fierce resolve that belied the chaos around them. "There's a lot of confusion," he began, his words carrying the weight of disbelief and shock. "All we know for sure is that we're being hit hard. We lost 30 Battlestars in the opening attack. According to reports, they've been able to just… turn our ships off. The fleet's not even getting a chance to fight back. Virgon, Picon, Scorpia, and Tauron have all been nuked. No word on the other colonies."
In the midst of the controlled chaos, a fragile figure approached Shira, Lieutenant Shaw clutching a paper with a grip that betrayed both urgency and a hidden tremor. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, a testament to the heavy emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She handed the paper to Shira, her voice a quiver of emotions barely restrained. "Priority message, sir," she whispered, her breath hitching as she fought back the surge of emotions that threatened to spill over.
"Take a breath, Lieutenant. Ease up," Shira's voice carried a soothing reassurance, like a gentle hand guiding a wavering spirit back to steadiness.
"Yes, sir," Lieutenant Shaw's response was a testament to her vulnerability beneath the facade of duty. Her nod was a mixture of acknowledgment and gratitude, a silent agreement to trust in the guidance offered. Inhaling deeply, she allowed the air to wash away the tremors of emotion that had threatened to unravel her composure, and with newfound resolve, she returned to her station.
The paper in Shira's grip held the weight of impending revelations, its contents a harbinger of both tragedy and urgency. The Commander's gaze lingered on the paper, her eyes absorbing the words etched upon it, each syllable a thread weaving the fabric of fate. The heaviness of responsibility settled upon her shoulders, mingling with the urgency that pulsed in her veins.
"XO," Shira's voice cut through the charged atmosphere, a call that transcended mere rank and hierarchy.
Colonel Wilson's movement was swift, each step carrying a blend of anticipation and readiness. His presence by Shira's side was a testament to their shared bond, forged through countless trials and battles. "Commander?" he inquired, his tone a fusion of curiosity and readiness to receive her command.
The words that fell from Shira's lips were a declaration that shattered the veneer of security, revealing the harsh reality that lay beyond. "Admiral Nagala is dead and the Atlantia's been destroyed," she revealed, her voice carrying the weight of sorrow and a fire of determination that burned brighter amidst the darkness. The way she spoke the words, as if each syllable was a piece of her heart that she had to relinquish, painted a picture of a leader burdened by both grief and the indomitable spirit to press forward.
A palpable silence followed, the CIC seemingly holding its breath as if the very air was stunned by the news. Then, like a lightning bolt cutting through the gloom, Shira's resolve resurfaced, firm and unyielding. "We need to get in this fight, now," her words rang out like a rallying cry, a clarion call to action that resonated in the hearts of all present.
Amidst the whirlwind of emotions and the tumult of decisions, Colonel Wilson's suggestion held a glimmer of hope. "We should head for Caprica," he proposed, his voice carrying not just a tactical suggestion, but a beacon of optimism amidst the chaos, a small but resilient flame of strategy in the face of adversity.
A fervent agreement surged from Shira's lips, her voice carrying a blend of conviction and urgency that mirrored the intensity of the situation. The weight of responsibility bore down on her like an unrelenting force, yet her resolute demeanor held firm, a bastion of strength amidst the turmoil.
"Lieutenant Thompson, please spin up the FTL drive and get ready to jump the ship," Shira's command was a beacon of hope, a call to action that resonated in the heartbeats of everyone present. The movement of Lieutenant Thompson, transitioning from the Helm to the FTL console, carried a sense of purpose as he embarked on this critical task. Each keystroke, every adjustment, reverberated with the unspoken desperation to escape the encroaching storm.
Amidst the anticipation, a sudden beep from the DRADIS console sliced through the air like a shard of unease. The heartbeats of those in the CIC seemed to synchronize with the rhythmic pulsing, each beep a reminder of the impending confrontation. "DRADIS contacts," Lieutenant Nyoka's voice held a tinge of unease, a reflection of the imminent challenge they faced. Her words held the gravity of a war drum's beat, announcing the approach of danger from the depths of space.
"Bearing 143 carom 229. 20, correction, 30 bogeys moving towards us at high speed. 6 minutes until contact," Lieutenant Nyoka's announcement hung in the air like a specter, a countdown to an impending clash that felt as inexorable as fate itself. The tension in the room thickened, a palpable sense of vulnerability mingling with the fierce determination that gripped their hearts.
Shira's response was swift, her command slicing through the charged atmosphere like a clarion call. "Send hostile challenge and ID. Colonial Priority One channel," she ordered, her voice resonating with authority and a touch of desperation. The urgency of their circumstances had crystallized, the time for caution dwindling as the countdown continued.
The voice of Lieutenant Shaw rang out, her words imbued with an unwavering resolve that defied the tension hanging in the air. "Attention unknown vessels, this is the Battlestar Valkyrie," her voice echoed through the void of space, carrying both warning and a plea for reason. The silence that followed her words was almost deafening, a void waiting to be filled with a response that could alter the course of events.
"You are entering restricted space and are ordered to immediately change your course or you will be subject to defensive action. Please respond, over," Lieutenant Shaw's call hung in the void, a thread connecting their world to the unknown. The absence of a reply was a haunting echo, an unsettling reminder that the answers they sought were shrouded in uncertainty, a precursor to the storm that loomed ever closer. "I say again, this is the Battlestar Valkyrie. You are entering restricted space and you are ordered to change your course or you will be subject to defensive action. Please respond, over."
The weight of the moment was suspended in the tense silence that followed, each heartbeat an echo of uncertainty as Lieutenant Nyoka's gaze shifted towards the Commander. Her eyes held a mixture of expectation and trepidation, as if hoping for a sign of salvation amidst the encroaching shadows.
"Sound action stations," Shira's voice resonated with a fierce determination that cut through the silence like a rallying cry. The gravity of the order hung in the air like a battle cry, the urgency and resolve intertwined, a testament to the impending storm that loomed on the horizon. "Prepare to launch, Vipers," her command carried an undercurrent of urgency, a call for readiness in the face of the unknown.
The response came swiftly, Lieutenant Nyoka's voice a blend of affirmation and urgency. "Sir," she acknowledged, her gaze shifting back to the DRADIS console that pulsed with ominous blips. Her announcement was accompanied by a jarring revelation, the tense atmosphere punctuated by the chilling reality unfolding before them. "They're firing," her voice held a hint of disbelief, as if grappling with the sudden escalation of events.
And then, in an inexplicable twist, the world itself seemed to ripple. Shira Brynn, a steadfast figure in the heart of the CIC, disappeared with a blink of an eye, leaving behind a vacuum of shock and confusion. The air seemed to hold its breath, the space where Shira had stood now a void that echoed with the residual energy of her presence.
"Sir, the bogeys…" Lieutenant Nyoka's voice trembled as her gaze darted to the spot where Shira had vanished, her words a mixture of confusion and disbelief. "... is gone," the reality of the Commander's sudden disappearance was a chilling reminder that even amidst chaos, the unimaginable could become reality.
The abrupt absence of their leader created a void that threatened to engulf them. "Condition One," Colonel Wilson's voice thundered through the CIC, the urgency of his command an anchor amidst the sea of uncertainty. The chaos that had erupted became focused, each member of the crew reacting to the sudden twist of fate with a renewed sense of urgency.
"Colonel," Lieutenant Thompson's voice was a desperate plea for understanding amidst the tumultuous turn of events. "Our position has changed!" The words carried a blend of shock and bewilderment, a realization that the fabric of their reality had been altered in an instant.
"What do you mean?" Colonel Wilson's demand was laced with frustration and a touch of desperation. "Did we jump?" he questioned, seeking a rational explanation in the face of the inexplicable.
"Unknown," Thompson's reply was a confession of uncertainty, his voice a reflection of the confusion that held them captive. "All I know is we're no longer where we were," he admitted, his words carrying the weight of a reality that had been irrevocably reshaped.
Earth 65
USS Enterprise – Same Time
From the commanding perch at the center seat, Commander Buffy Summers keenly observed the scene unfolding before her. Her eyes, a blend of determination and concern, were fixed on the helmsman, Hikaru Sulu, who betrayed his anxiousness through the subtle flexing of his hands. A flicker of empathy passed across her gaze as she turned her attention briefly toward her sister, Commander Dawn Summers. It was Dawn who had transmitted the orders from the esteemed Captain James Kirk, dictating that the ship should set course at the designated time.
Inwardly, Buffy mused over the captain's absence on the bridge during this pivotal moment. She could only surmise that he remained within the confines of his quarters, meticulously scrutinizing the Starfleet records belonging to both her and Dawn.
Breaking her reverie, Buffy addressed the task at hand, her voice cutting through the tension. "Mr. Sulu!"
Sulu reacted with a sudden jolt. His fingers tightened on the controls, a mixture of nervous energy and determination evident in the lines of his face. As the Enterprise responded to his touch, the ship swayed to the side, teetering perilously. The precarious dance between his skills and the ship's intricate mechanics played out before them. A symphony of control and crisis.
In the aftermath of the ship's unsteady maneuver, the air seemed heavy with the collective breath of the crew. The intercom erupted into a chorus of inquiries, each department on the ship clamoring for an explanation of the near-calamity that had unfolded.
Recognizing the weight of the moment, Buffy abandoned her post and moved toward Sulu. Her steps were resolute as she reached his side, placing a steadying hand on his tense shoulder. The touch was both reassuring and grounding, an embodiment of her confidence in him. Her voice, laced with warmth and understanding, filled the space around them. "You can do this," she assured him, her gaze a steady anchor. "Just relax."
Buffy's gaze sought out Dawn's, and in that fleeting exchange, a silent pact formed between them. Dawn, stationed diligently at the Engineering console, responded with a nod that carried both understanding and resolve.
With purposeful efficiency, Dawn manipulated a switch, initiating the communication channel. A sense of anticipation hung in the air as the crackle of the intercom signaled the connection being established. And then, like a bridge spanning space itself, the voice of Mr. Scott—chief engineer of the Enterprise—resounded from the speakers, a lifeline to the heart of the ship's inner workings.
Buffy's voice, though firm, held an undercurrent of concern as she addressed the seasoned engineer. "Mr. Scott. Damage report."
There was a pause, a pregnant moment in which the weight of uncertainty seemed to press down. Then, Scotty's voice emerged, laden with a mixture of urgency and technical assessment. "The engines, the housings—they're no' designed for such use—"
Sulu's response was swift, a testament to his skill and determination. He called upon the impulse engines, a desperate plea for even the tiniest surge of power. The ship responded with a hesitant quiver, a delicate shiver of motion that seemed to hold the ship suspended on the precipice of fate. The bridge itself seemed to hold its breath as the Enterprise teetered on the edge, a glimmer of hope intertwined with the hum of machinery.
Buffy's question reverberated through the air once more, the cadence of her voice a beacon of command threaded with an undercurrent of worry. "What's the damage, Mr. Scott?"
Scotty's voice, a blend of professional analysis and Scottish candor, echoed from the speakers. "Well, sir, there isna any damage, if ye put it—"
Buffy's measured response was a testament to her poise under pressure, her words carrying a blend of gratitude and reassurance. "Very good, Mr. Scott. Carry on."
A disorienting wave of dizziness clouded Sulu's vision, a physical manifestation of the pressure that had been building within him. The moment he recognized the breath he had unknowingly been holding, he released it in a rush, a mix of relief and unease coursing through his veins like electric currents.
Dawn's empathic sensitivity attuned her to the subtle undercurrents of emotion that danced across Sulu's features. Her gaze, alive with understanding, shifted first toward Buffy, their silent connection a testament to years of shared experiences. Then, her attention pivoted toward Sulu, a silent gesture of camaraderie and support.
Buffy's affirmation carried a weight of empathy as she addressed Sulu, her voice a soothing balm. The words, though simple, held a profound resonance. "Relax, you can do it," she repeated, her voice a lifeline extended to him.
Sulu's response was immediate, a blend of gratitude and determination coloring his words. "Yes, sir."
Even as the directive to plot a course to Starbase 13 was issued, the bridge seemed to hold its collective breath. The command resonated like a heartbeat, pulsing through the ship's core. In tandem, Sulu's hands moved with deft precision, his skill guiding the Enterprise's response.
The transition from acceleration to deceleration was a dance of finesse, an intricate choreography between man and machine. Sulu's hands moved as extensions of his thoughts, adjusting controls and manipulating variables with the experience of someone who understood the nuances of space travel intimately. With the ship's momentum altered, the Enterprise gracefully shifted its course, coming to a near standstill in relation to the imposing presence of Spacedock.
Amid the hum of machinery and the soft glow of controls, a symphony of alarms blared, their shrill urgency slicing through the air. Sulu's hand moved with precision as he acknowledged the warnings, silencing them one by one. The tension in the atmosphere was palpable, a weight that hung between heartbeats.
"Sailboat, Commander," Sulu's voice cut through the cacophony. With a series of calculated adjustments, the viewscreen's magnification intensified, revealing an incongruous presence within the vast expanse of space. The solar-powered vessel, minuscule against the backdrop of the Enterprise, zipped ahead with a boldness that defied reason. The delicate, near-invisible black sail danced in the cosmic breeze, a daring contrast to the surrounding darkness.
As the boat maneuvered, its gilded side gleamed like a fleeting crescent, casting an ephemeral brilliance that seemed almost ethereal. The brilliance was both blinding and beautiful, an iridescent spectacle that beckoned the gaze even as it threatened to overwhelm.
"I see it, Mr. Sulu," Buffy's voice broke through the tense silence, a mixture of admiration and exasperation. "Good work. Whoever is aboard her has more nerve than sense." Her sentiments mirrored the crew's collective understanding—only someone brimming with audacity could pilot such a vessel amidst the titans of space.
Mr. Spock's logical voice interjected, his words injecting a dose of reality into the bridge's atmosphere. "And in human-controlled regions, such as this one, that person has the right of way as well." The assertion was tinged with Vulcan logic, a reminder that even the vastness of space adhered to rules and regulations.
A hint of amusement crept into Buffy's expression as the tension released its grip. Her eyes rolled in a gesture of lighthearted disbelief, a counterpoint to the solemnity of their surroundings. The sailboat glided remarkably close, a fleeting marvel against the backdrop of the Enterprise's impressive presence. Once the vessel had cleared their path, Sulu guided the ship back on its course, a steady progression through the cosmos.
"The course to Starbase 13 has been entered, commander," the navigator reported, the words carrying a sense of assurance.
Sulu's affirmation echoed with confidence. "The Enterprise is clear of traffic and cleared for warp speed, commander."
Then, in an instant, the fabric of reality seemed to warp and twist for Buffy. The transition was seamless yet profound—where the bridge once stood, now lay the familiar streets of Sunnydale. The surroundings that had remained distant memories for centuries became a tangible reality once more.
Earth 77
Jedi Temple on Tython – Same Time
Sarryn Baill, once known as the formidable Sith Lord Darth Revan, found himself in a state of restlessness outside the imposing doors of the Jedi Council chambers. Time seemed to stretch as he anxiously awaited his entry, and after what felt like an eternity, permission was finally granted.
"Sarryn," Atris, the eminent Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, addressed him as she drew closer. "What can we do for you?"
Emotion flickered in Sarryn's eyes as he responded, "I have been having visions given to me by the living Force. Somewhere in the Unknown Regions there is nexus of Dark Side energies."
Atris' brow furrowed with concern. "A nexus of Dark Side energies?" she questioned.
Sarryn's gaze remained steadfast. Yes, Master Atris. I believe I am being sent these visions for a reason."
Atris exchanged a meaningful glance with her fellow Masters, a silent understanding passing between them. "Go, you shall."
In an instant, the world around Sarryn underwent a tumultuous transformation. One heartbeat he stood within the hallowed Council Chambers; the next, he was transported to an unfamiliar street on an alien planet, a sense of uncertainty hanging heavy in the air.
Earth 6
Streets of Sunnydale – Same Time
Shira Brynn suddenly found herself in front of a home. She looked around, confusion and disorientation engulfing her, wondering where she was. The last thing she could remember was being in CIC on the Valkyrie just as 30 unidentified bogeys were about to attack. Now she found herself on a street that resembled any street in most of the Colonies. The scent of familiarity hung in the air, the distant echo of laughter and children playing on this sun-kissed suburban street. Had she died and gone to some sort of afterlife that resembled her home?
Gunfire shattered her thoughts, the sharp staccato cracks echoing through her ears. Shira spun around, heart pounding, to see her husband, Cale Brynn, and the Chief Engineering Officer, fear etched on their faces, darting across the street. Their eyes darted around in silent panic, scanning for threats.
"Cale!" Shira's voice trembled with a potent mixture of fear and joy, a desperate plea for connection in this inexplicable reality.
As joy and relief surged through her, Shira raced toward her husband, her emotions a turbulent storm in her chest. But to her dismay, Cale whipped around, and the barrel of his gun was pointed straight at her, eyes wide with fear and confusion, his voice quivering as he realized who she was.
Battlestar Valkyrie - Earth Orbit – Same Time
"Colonel," Lieutenant Nyoka exclaimed, her eyes fixed on the Dradis screen, her voice tinged with urgency and awe, "A new bogey is emerging from behind the moon, and its weapons systems are not activated."
"It's broadcasting a message of peace and they wish to speak with you," Lieutenant Shaw chimed in, his tone conveying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity.
Streets of Sunnydale – 4:45 pm
"We should try and contact the Valkyrie," Cale suggested, his voice tinged with a hint of hope as he and Shira walked down the serene suburban street, a world away from their previous encounter.
Shira nodded in agreement, her hands trembling slightly as she pulled out a communications device she kept with her at all times. "Battlestar Valkyrie, this is Valkyrie Actual."
A moment of tension hung in the air before the familiar voice of Colonel Wilson crackled through the communicator, relief washing over Shira like a warm embrace. "It is good to hear your voice, Commander."
"What is your status?" Shira inquired, her voice laced with concern, eager for answers.
Colonel Wilson's response sent a shiver down Shira's spine, and the uncertainty of their surroundings grew more ominous. "We are currently in negotiations with a Cylon vessel which just arrived under a flag of truce."
"Cylons, are you sure?" Shira asked, her disbelief and unease echoing through her words. "We haven't had dealings with them since the Armistice."
"Quite sure, Commander," Colonel Wilson replied, his voice unwavering.
Shira's instincts urged her to caution, her words tinged with a sense of unease. "Be wary."
"Always am, Commander," Colonel Wilson affirmed, a steely resolve underlining his words. He continued, providing a piece of vital information, a puzzle piece in their ongoing mystery. "Also of note, the 30 bogeys disappeared unexpectedly at the same time you disappeared from CIC."
Shira's brows furrowed, connecting the dots in her mind. The situation grew increasingly complex. "Is it possible the bogies originated from the Cylon vessel you are currently in negotiations with?"
Colonel Wilson's response left a lingering air of uncertainty. "No way of knowing for sure. But I have my doubts unless the negotiations are a ruse on their part."
"Alright, how long will it take you to get a Raptor down here?" Shira inquired, her determination to unravel this enigma unwavering.
"Thirty minutes tops," Colonel Wilson assured, a glimmer of hope in his voice.
"Alright, we'll scout for a landing zone. Standby for coordinates," Shira said, her voice resonating with a blend of urgency and determination as they moved forward in this strange and unpredictable world.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Becca Reidel, the skilled CAG of the Battlestar Valkyrie, fought to get her bearings in this bewildering and surreal world. As she prepared to confront two of the menacing creatures that seemed to plague this new reality, her training and instincts kicked in, preparing her for a brutal hand-to-hand struggle.
But just as the tension reached its peak, salvation arrived in the form of a sudden barrage of weapons fire. The creatures crumpled to the ground, defeated and motionless. Becca's breaths came fast and heavy as she stood in the aftermath.
Two figures in uniforms and one person in what appeared to be robes approached her. Their faces bore a mix of relief and determination. Becca found her voice and spoke with gratitude, "Thank you for your assistance."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Caprica Six moved through the unfamiliar streets, her thoughts clouded by profound confusion. The sudden transition from the Basestar during a jump to this primitive world with strange creatures and humans left her utterly disoriented. Where was she, she wondered, a sense of unease gnawing at her.
Inside her mind, the voice of a Centurian responded, providing a modicum of clarity. "You are on a planet," it stated, though the true extent of her predicament remained shrouded in mystery. The presence of the Centurian meant that there should be a Basestar in orbit or somewhere nearby.
In response, Caprica Six swiftly made her decision, her voice unwavering as she communicated with the unseen forces of the Cylon fleet. "Send a Heavy Raider to pick me up," she demanded, determined to regain her connection to the Cylon fleet and the security it offered.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Shira Brynn's gaze fell upon Becca as she approached with three individuals, two women and a man, their faces unfamiliar to Shira's experience.
"Captain," Shira greeted Becca, her voice a mix of surprise and concern.
Becca quickly introduced her newfound companions, shedding some light on their presence. "Commander Brynn, these people assisted me," Becca explained, her voice laced with gratitude. "They're from two groups we have never heard of."
The man, a commanding presence, met Shira's gaze. "Commander? I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise. This is my executive officer, Commander Buffy Summers," he said, gesturing towards himself and the woman in a uniform resembling his.
The third individual, a woman in robes, introduced herself as well. "I am the Jedi Master Sarryn Baill," she stated, her voice tinged with wisdom and a hint of concern. Her keen connection to the Force allowed her to sense the dark side that permeated this unfamiliar world, deepening the mystery. She wondered if this was the world in the Unknown Regions that the Force had been sending her visions of.
Shira reciprocated the introductions, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and determination. "Commander Shira Brynn, Battlestar Valkyrie. You know Captain Reidel. Standing next to me is my husband and Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Colonel Cale Brynn."
With pleasantries exchanged, Shira's practical nature took over. "Are your ships around here?" she inquired, eager to grasp the full extent of the situation they now found themselves in.
"We've been unable to raise anyone on Starfleet frequencies," Buffy noted, her voice tinged with concern. "So we don't know for sure."
Sarryn, the Jedi Master, expressed her uncertainty as well. "I have no idea," she admitted, lifting a communicator in her hand. "I do not seem to have access to holonet frequencies."
Shira absorbed this information, a sense of isolation and mystery shrouding their situation. She considered their options and decided to make contact with the Valkyrie, hopeful for more answers.
"I managed to contact the Valkyrie," Shira explained to the group, her voice steady. "My people are currently in negotiations with a Cylon vessel. Maybe your ships are up there as well." She then took out her communication device and initiated the connection. "Battlestar Valkyrie, this is Valkyrie Actual."
"Commander?" Colonel Wilson's voice crackled through the communicator.
Shira wasted no time in seeking further information. "Is there any other ships up there, besides you and the Cylons?" she inquired.
"Negative," Colonel Wilson replied.
"Understood, stand by," Shira said before turning back to the group of individuals, her expression a mix of concern and determination.
Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado Springs – 5 pm
The NORAD technician's fingers danced across the keyboard, meticulously adjusting the orbital spy satellite's camera trajectory. This was no ordinary operation; he was pushing the satellite far outside its typical range. The telemetry had revealed the sudden, unexplained appearance of a massive object in what appeared to be near-Earth geosynchronous orbit. The technician knew this was a mission of utmost importance.
After five intense minutes of painstaking adjustments, the satellite's feed began its transmission to the receivers stationed above NORAD. The entire room held its breath, waiting to see what had triggered this unprecedented response.
Thirty seconds later, as the image appeared on his screen, the technician stared in a mixture of awe and dumbfounded surprise. He was looking at something extraordinary, something beyond his wildest imagination. It took him a full three minutes to compose himself and find the words to alert his supervisor to the astonishing discovery.
Two minutes later, with the gravity of the situation sinking in, all security feeds were discreetly and promptly transferred to the depths of the complex that housed Stargate Command.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
General George Hammond sat in his office, tension etched into his features. He had been anxiously awaiting word about SG-1's mission or the impending arrival of the Goa'uld, as Daniel Jackson had warned about an imminent attack. His fingers tapped impatiently on the surface of his desk.
In the midst of his contemplation, the intercom on his desk buzzed, startling him from his thoughts. "Yes," he replied, eager for any news that might shed light on their current situation.
"General, we have a situation," came the voice of Master Sergeant Walter Harriman through the intercom.
It took less than a minute for General Hammond to abandon his office, striding purposefully across the briefing room and down the stairs to the control room, heading straight for Walter's console.
"What is it?" Hammond inquired, his concern growing as he noticed the urgency in Walter's expression.
"Sir, a technician in NORAD was adjusting a satellite's trajectory and happened upon a ship that simply appeared in a near-Earth geosynchronous orbit and was shortly joined by a second," Walter reported, his voice laced with a sense of bewilderment.
The mention of an unexpected arrival in Earth's orbit sent a chill down Hammond's spine. His mind immediately turned to the Goa'uld, the threat they had been preparing for. "Goa'uld?" he questioned, his thoughts racing as he considered the implications of this startling development.
"Negative, sir," Walter replied to General Hammond's question regarding the identity of the ships.
With mounting curiosity and a sense of unease, General Hammond ordered, "Put them on the main monitor." He leaned in closely behind Walter, the anticipation palpable in the room. The image from the satellite was then displayed on the large monitor overhead.
As the images came into focus, General Hammond's eyes widened, and he had to blink several times to make sure he was not seeing things. One of the ships bore an uncanny resemblance to a vessel he had seen in a television show from his younger days – the Battlestar Galactica. Yet, it was not an exact replica, and he found himself at a loss for words.
"That looks a lot like..." he began, but before he could finish, Walter chimed in.
"A Battlestar," Walter finished Hammond's sentence, confirming what they both saw. "And if that is a Battlestar, it's likely the other ship might be what a Cylon Basestar looks like in real life."
General Hammond's mind raced as he processed this revelation. "Have they done anything?" he inquired, hoping for more information.
Walter's response added to the intrigue of the situation. "They've simply been sitting there," he reported. "And sir, they may be visible from the ground with a telescope; the Battlestar alone is almost a mile long."
"I'll make some calls," General Hammond declared with a heavy sigh, realizing the urgency of redirecting observatories away from the area where the mysterious ships had appeared. The civilian telescopes posed a challenge that he could do little to address at the moment. The priority was ensuring that their own facilities weren't focused on the enigmatic vessels.
"Try contacting them and see if we get a response," Hammond instructed, his hopes resting on the possibility that these unknown ships were friendly. With the looming threat of the Goa'uld, he couldn't afford to risk a confrontation on two fronts.
As he turned to head back to his office to make the necessary calls, a nagging concern pulled him back to Walter. "Any word on SG-1?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of worry and curiosity. The absence of any communication from their elite team had been a source of concern.
Walter's response further deepened the mystery. "No, sir, there has been no word yet from NASA or NORAD on any ship other than those two. Unless they are onboard them..." he trailed off, leaving the implications hanging in the air. The idea that SG-1 may have gated to one of the newly arrived ships was a possibility that couldn't be ignored.
Streets of Sunnydale – Same Time
Shira scanned the sky, her eyes locking onto the three descending ships. One was unmistakably an updated version of the Heavy Raider, a vessel that had been used by the Cylons as a dropship during the war. The second ship appeared to be a Raptor, a sight that brought a sense of familiarity in this bewildering world. However, the third ship remained unrecognizable, adding to the enigma that surrounded their situation.
The Heavy Raider and the unfamiliar vessel touched down several blocks to the east, while the Raptor landed right in front of Shira and her group. Without hesitation, they approached the Raptor and swiftly climbed aboard just as the doors began to open. Becca slammed the door shut behind them, ensuring a secure seal, and gave a nod to the pilot, who immediately began pre-flight checks.
Shira, with a sense of urgency in her voice, turned to Becca. "Becca, plot us a jump," she instructed. "I really hope the Valkyrie was correct about the cease-fire with the Cylons. But in case the Cylons are biding their time, I don't want to remain in the area."
"Aye, Commander," Becca replied, her fingers moving deftly across the controls as she initiated the calculations.
Captain Kirk, still trying to make sense of the situation, couldn't help but ask, "What or who are the Cylons?"
Shira recognized the need for explanation but prioritized their immediate safety. "It's better to have this discussion once we're off the planet," she replied, her voice conveying the weight of their current circumstances.
Captain Kirk, understanding the urgency, nodded in agreement, and they all braced themselves for the unknown journey ahead.
Becca turned to the Raptor's pilot, and he gave a confirming nod to indicate that her calculations were correct. "Coordinates set, jump on your mark," Becca relayed to Shira.
"MARK!" Shira responded, her voice resolute, and with that, the Raptor made its jump.
In an instant, the Raptor transitioned from the planet's atmosphere to a location a few hundred kilometers from the Battlestar Valkyrie. The abrupt change in surroundings left their senses reeling.
"We have clearance from Valkyrie?" Shira inquired, her voice holding a hint of caution.
"Aye," the pilot confirmed, and with that reassurance, they were one step closer to finding answers in the midst of this baffling situation.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
The Cylon Heavy Raider initiated its jump as soon as Caprica Six had boarded. Like the others, it transitioned instantaneously from the planet's atmosphere to a location next to the Basestar, taking its place in the enigmatic alignment of ships that had appeared seemingly out of thin air.
As for the third ship, it departed the planet's atmosphere and entered hyperspace. However, it didn't travel a great distance. Instead, it emerged from hyperspace at a planet located on the far side of the sun, sharing the same orbit as Earth. This planet was in the exact position that science fiction fans might recognize as "Counter Earth," a world that, until that very night, had never existed, much like the space ships that now orbited Earth. The appearance of this planet added another layer of complexity to the already bewildering situation, leaving more questions than answers in its wake.
Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Colorado Springs – 6 PM
General Hammond's patience wore thin after an hour of waiting. He needed to know if the enigmatic ships had made any response or taken any action.
"Have they responded or otherwise done anything?" Hammond inquired, his voice edged with tension.
Walter reported, "They've simply been sitting there. That said, NORAD and NASA telemetry showed three ships setting down in a town roughly two hours north of Los Angeles by car. All three ships flew back into space."
Hammond's brows furrowed in response to this revelation. "They were on the ground?" he clarified, seeking confirmation.
"Yes, sir," Walter affirmed, his words adding a new layer of intrigue to the situation.