Earth 2010 - The Colonies of Kobol Reunited Chapters 15

CHAPTER 15

Sitting high in his command chair, Leoben stared down at the humanoid Cylon models beneath him. A six series Cylon was first to speak, her shoulder length blond hair stood out against the black jumpsuit she was wearing. Cavil was the primary threat to his supremacy aboard the Basestar, and that threat was extinguished before it could gain momentum. Of all the humanoid models, the Six was the least predictable to Leoben, therefore the most dangerous.

“There is no other conclusion other than the Colonials are receiving assistance in this star system, whether or not that assistance is from Earth is unknown. What is known is that in the span of two years they have been able to construct a Mercury-class Battlestar, and at least four full squadrons of fighters.”

“She’s right!” began Doral. “There is no way Adama could have acquired those resources without help. We know for a fact that there were no Viper production facilities within the fleet as late as two years ago when they attacked and pillaged our outpost.”

“You mean their attack that was made possible by the treachery of a rogue three model?” said Leoben, his voice echoing across the chamber. He was referring to D’Anna Biers, the three series that was in charge of the outpost. Before that outpost’s Leoben was destroyed, he had sent out a coded message to the nearest Basestar to give a report on what was transpiring. The sent message was a last resort that he never expected would be received, and he was soon destroyed, unable to download into a new body. The message was received by a passing Basestar in search of the renegade fleet, and all they knew was that the Cylon in charge of the outpost had collaborated with the enemy, and was acting against her programming. The Cylon model known as D’Anna Biers was boxed until it could be determined where the malfunction originated.

“So it was reported.” Replied Doral. “That new Battlestar inflicted moderate damage on the ship, and we lost 15% of our raider compliment. On its own the ship is not a match for the power of this Basestar, we can compensate for their speed advantage. However, there is a serious threat when its might is combined with the GALACTICA’s.”

“That pitiful pile of scrap metal!” boomed Leoben. “How it escaped the initial assault is beyond belief, and worse is the fact that they’ve evaded us for this long. I cannot fathom how an obsolete Battlestar has managed to last this long with our entire fleet pursuing it.”

Simon stood with his hands folded behind his back. The scientist in him was forever studying the information presented to him, and Leoben was providing a wealth of material to study, his creation of this chamber, the elevated platform, the murder of Cavil by his creation Lucifer, and his self-appointed leadership of the Basestar. He was going to be an interesting study. “Do you propose to call for assistance?” asked Simon.

The chamber remained silent, as if Leoben was contemplating the question. His eyes shone like small suns as he peered down at the gathered Cylons. “No Simon! We have tracked the fugitives this far without assistance from Cylon; I don’t see a need to share the thrill of running down the prey and its final destruction.”

“Thrill?” asked a number eight.

“Sharon, we are not machines! Can you not feel it in the part of you that is human? We were the next step in Cylon evolution, the pinnacle of technology… an organic model that is indistinguishable from the humans. I concluded that collective thinking was destroying our potential, my perspective has increased a hundred fold, and I intend to locate Earth myself. There are models such as Cavil that would like to see the humans completely extinguished from the Cosmos, I on the other hand would like to see them subjugated…under us.”

“We weren’t very successful on New Caprica, and that was with 39,192 humans. I can only speculate that Earth contains a much higher population.” Interjected Simon.

“Simon, we are the most technologically-advanced and most powerful civilization in the universe, how long do you think we can be held off? I will find Earth, and when that time comes I will summon our forces, but not before I have consolidated my power throughout our…empire. That is something that is taking place at various levels as we speak.”

The six model understood what Leoben was talking about, her own feelings were chaotic and she too realized that her human side was overpowering her Cylon programming. She never believed the humans should have been destroyed, and her beliefs were closer to Leoben’s than either could have imagined.

“The Basestar is almost completely repaired; however we cannot replace the lost Raiders.” Informed Doral.

“That won’t matter for the moment. Send out a heavy raider and escort to return to that sector to enact a long-range scan of the system. I want to know what is out there.”

The room was soon emptied, and Leoben returned to his projections.

FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:

We have finally had our long-feared and long-anticipated reunion with the Cylons, our newest Battlestar under the command of Saul Tigh engaged a lone Cylon Basestar with a small, but regrettable loss of life. The new ship held up well under combat against a far superior warship. Our benefactors from Earth built an incredible warship far beyond their technological means of understanding. They have come a long way, and so have the people of the twelve colonies of Kobol.

We are now one people, one tribe of Kobol…and we face possible extinction. Terra-1 and GALACTICA are remaining on station in orbit of Uranus. If the Cylons return, it will be to this location and we will be ready for them. I feel so alive, for the first time in years. I have a Battlestar that now has all of its proper shielding plates, an air wing of brand new vipers, a full fuel and ammunition load, and even a large stockpile of nuclear warheads provided by the collective governments of Earth. From what I am told, their nuclear weapons yield a higher destructive force than Colonial ones. I have an incredible crew, as does Saul Tigh. Earth is healing the wounds inflicted on it by inter-world fighting amongst nations. It is not an easy task; enemies yesterday are finding it difficult to be allies today. However, we are making progress.

Laura Roslin has officially stepped down as the President of the twelve colonies, and that office has been abolished, she is now a special liaison between Earth’s government and the former colonists, and I foresee a bright future for her. Now we wait for the Cylon’s next move.

Raptor 1 from Terra-1 was airborne; Elyssa DeAlma was flanked by four vipers from Werewolf squadron and was starting their patrol outside the Uranus area. Hustler, her ECO was operating the Dradis intently. His attention would have to be undisturbed for this mission.

“Can you believe Nightstalker, Hustler? I mean what was Adama thinking promoting him? Don’t get me wrong, he’s a real good Viper jock, has a good deal of toaster kills on his resume, but I’m not overly impressed with him as squadron leader.”

“I always had him pegged as a jokester myself, Fraking surprised me that he made Captain and was given command of an air wing.” Replied Hustler, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“I’m serious, our squadron leader needs to pull his head out of his ass before he gets himself, or one of us killed. I’m starting to think I was better off on GALACTICA.”

The patrol was on the far side of Uranus now; the Vipers were spread out a little and paired off. Raptor 1 was conducting her eleventh Dradis sweep when they picked up a possible contact. “Dradis contact bearing 421.7, speed six point five and closing.”

“Frak, signal our escort and have them identify.” Ordered Poseidon. The vipers peeled off in the direction provided by Hustler, their own Dradis now at full power tracking the incoming contacts.

Lt. Dillon Fan; call sign Breakout was in command of the patrol. His Dradis was now picking up the inbound contacts. He was a former fighter pilot for the Royal Air force in the United Kingdom on Earth, and like Lieutenant Anghard Beynon; call sign Branwen another member of the United Kingdom, he volunteered his services immediately for Viper training. He was known for his cool demeanor under pressure, at times mistaken for the stuffiness wrongly attributed to some Englishmen. Dillon Fan viewed his fighter as an extension of himself, and he particularly came to view the Mark II Viper as a surgical tool with wings. He loved his fighter, and took to naming her Winefride, named after Saint Winefride’s well in his home town of Holywell. He loved history, the legend of St Winefride tells how in 660AD, an enraged local chieftain severed the head of the young Winefride after she spurned his advances, how a spring rose from the ground at the spot where her head fell and how she was later restored to life by her uncle, St Beuno.
The spring became renowned for its healing powers and throughout the centuries and even until today, pilgrims travel here in their thousands from all over the world to bathe in its waters and worship at its shrine that has become known as the Lourdes of Wales. Dillon Fan hoped that the rumored healing powers would serve him and his viper well in combat.
His Dradis was getting a clearer picture on the contacts. They were definitely spacecraft and definitely inbound six contacts in all.

“Patrol this is Breakout…I’m verifying a total of six contacts, repeat six. Let’s go see what we have out there, keep your eyes sharp mates, and weapons free.” As they hurtled towards the sector containing the six contacts an uneasy feeling crept through Dillon. According to the Dradis, he should be in visual range by now. Six black and white targets on his screen instantly turned red in color indicating enemy aircraft. “Bloody Cylon patrol!” yelled Breakout as he pulled back hard on his stick and got above the lead raider moments before it fired.

A second raider went into a roll and fired as it flew by a viper. The viper took a direct hit and exploded. The three remaining vipers engaged the enemy vigorously. “Raptor One, Breakout, we have five Cylon raiders and one heavy raider inbound…get out of here lass!”

Elyssa DeAlma got a fix on the enemy aircraft and her escorts and started to prep for a FTL jump back to Terra-1. “Hustler spool up the FTL drives, these toasters are way too close for comfort.” DeAlma opened up a comline to Terra-1. “Terra-1, Poseidon we have enemy aircraft in this sector request alert fighters immediately.”

The heavy raider had disappeared within minutes leaving its escorts to fend off the viper attack. Breakout did not seem to notice its disappearance in the heat of battle. He sliced a raider down the middle and watched as it split open and exploded into a million burning fragments of flesh and technology. These biomechanical raiders were very different from the simulators he trained on, but he was in his element; flying an instrument of death, and death is exactly what he would mete out.

Aboard Terra-1, Digit was receiving Raptor one’s distress call and request for immediate viper assistance. Tigh had all pilots standing by their fighters that were already loaded into the launch tubes. Alert fighters were immediately launched and burning up the space way getting to Raptor one’s location. Fighters from GALACTICA were launched and catching up with the alert fighters.

Hustler had made the final preparations for the jump when the Dradis alarm sounded a proximity alarm. A spacecraft jumped into their immediate vicinity, 100 meters off their starboard side. “Frak, we’ve got a Turkey 100 meters to starboard!” yelled Hustler. The Cylon heavy raider, otherwise known as a “turkey” had jumped in close, Poseidon’s eyes widened in horror as the massive cannons beneath its nose opened fire. The Raptor shuddered violently as the cannon fire blew off its port wing. Warning alarms sounded throughout the craft as Elyssa DeAlma attempted to regain control, and avoid another burst of cannon fire. Reconnaissance raptors were normally unarmed, and this was no exception. Raptor One was a sitting duck; a heavily damaged sitting duck as the heavy raider flew by, obviously positioning itself to strike a fatal blow.

“Krypter, Krypter, Krypter…this is Poseidon, we are under attack by heavy raider, my ship has been disabled, and my FTL is down, request immediate assistance.”

Mark Sarnex was pushing his viper to the limit as he raced towards the field of combat, upon hearing Raptor 1’s distress call he altered course and headed for its location, following the locator signal of the Raptor’s transponder. He called out to his Raptor team. “Raptor one, Nightstalker…the Calvary is on its way, hang on Poseidon!”

Elyssa DeAlma frantically scanned the area with her eyes, the cabin lights were flickering, and they were losing power fast. Hustler’s Dradis screen was a jumbled mess, and the ship continued to shudder and list.

The heavy raider was approaching from the rear; as soon as it came within range, it opened fire. The blast blew the entry hatch clean off the side of the Raptor, as well as a good part of the tail. The forced decompression would have sucked the two inhabitants out of the craft in an instant had they not been safely harnessed. DeAlma knew what would happen next; the next shot would penetrate the fuel tanks and send them up in a ball of fire. She had to act fast. Striking the release on her seat harness, she used her legs to push off the damaged control console and flew towards her ECO’s station in the zero gravity. Hustler was still dazed by the violent explosion and decompression and did not realize that his pilot had released his harness and was pushing him towards the massive hole in the side of the ship.

“We need to get the Frak out of here Hustler!” yelled DeAlma as she pushed off the bulkhead with all her might. They both cleared the damaged Raptor and were floating in the icy cold region of space. Their flight suits would protect them for some time, and a homing signal was activated on the left arm of their suit in order for a rescue raptor to locate them and get them aboard. The heavy raider was making its final approach, but did not fire. Instead, it just hovered there before them. The two colonials were staying together by locking their arms. The opening of a rear hatch was the last thing Elyssa DeAlma remembered seeing when she was struck with something hard, she felt the air leave her lungs and then blackness.

Breakout evaded the oncoming raider with a tight roll to starboard. Coming out of the roll he squeezed the trigger on his stick and unleashed a blistering barrage of cannon fire, the raider was blown to pieces and he feverishly worked to avoid the debris field in order not to get any fragments lodged in his engine intake, or slamming off his canopy resulting is serious, if not catastrophic damage. His proximity warning sounded, and looking down at his Dradis screen, he noticed close to thirty green-colored contacts coming in fast. Help had arrived in the form of severely pissed off viper pilots. The two remaining raiders reversed course and retreated. Bedlam was in full pursuit, she sent a deadly round down range that caught one of the raider engines full on resulting in an incredible explosion. Lt. Rachel Frost smiled as she attempted to take out the remaining raider. The Cylon ship evaded her fire and darted from side to side as Bedlam unsuccessfully fired upon it. Lt. Steve Parsec call sign: Photon was coming within range of the raider; he had been temporarily transferred from GALACTICA and was itching for a fight. The raider flashed twice on his gun sightscreen indicating that the targeting computer established a lock on the enemy craft. He squeezed off a long round which found its target, the final Cylon raider had been obliterated.

Sarnex had chopped back power and was floating in close to the heavily damaged raptor. His eyes strained to see within the darkened, battered hulk. Flipping a toggle switch, he had activated a powerful searchlight mounted beneath the very end of the viper’s nose. The light bathed the inside of the jagged hole where the hatch was once located. The ECO’s station was empty, and he used his maneuvering thrusters to bring him closer to the cockpit. The light revealed an empty pilot’s seat as well. His head was spinning, where was the crew? He scanned the area looking for the blinking emergency beacon that all pilots either were required to wear in the event their ship was destroyed and they had to eject willingly, or were blown out of the aircraft, which was very seldom ever the case. No emergency beacon and the Dradis were not picking up either crewmember’s emergency transponder.

“Terra-1, Nightstalker, I’m on scene with a heavily damaged raptor, no sign of crew…repeat no sign of crew.” Reported Sarnex angrily.

“Nightstalker, Terra-1 you are instructed to return to base with all wings, a salvage raptor will arrive on station to secure Raptor one.” Nightstalker acknowledged the instructions and once all wings were accounted for headed back to Terra-1. Two vipers remained on station to await the salvage raptor and protect it in its operations.

Back on Earth D’Anna Biers had pulled her vehicle into an empty spot in front of one of the research facilities at Groom Lake. The baby was fast asleep in his car seat, and she gently lifted it out of the car and walked through the front entrance. She bypassed the wall map indicating office locations; she knew exactly where she was going. Stopping at the front desk, she was waved through by the officer after having her identification checked. She stopped at the appropriate door on the second floor, her palm pressed flat against the metallic door and she had closed her eyes tightly as if trying to steel herself from some unseen assault. She righted herself, and punched three numbers into the keypad to the left of the door. Upon entering, she placed the car seat on a nearby table and turned to face the man sitting on the sofa, he was smiling. “Welcome back D’Anna, I’ve been anxious to see you again.” Her green eyes moistened, and her heartbeat quickened. The pangs of guilt washed over her again.

On board the GALACTICA, Colonel Lee Adama stood before the assembled room of squadron leaders from both Battlestars. Admiral Adama sat next to Commander Tigh to the side of the podium. “Gentlemen thank you for coming. As you know we have encountered the Cylons within the solar system, and two days ago, we lost a raptor team near Uranus. The raptor itself was extensively damaged and will most likely be scrapped, the forced decompression must have blown the pilot and ECO clear from the craft.”

“Wouldn’t a trained raptor crew be wearing their safety harnesses at all times?” asked Falcon gruffly. He knew Elyssa DeAlma well, and knew she would have been following all safety protocols, especially in a hot zone with expected enemy contacts.

“That is correct; a raptor crew would be restrained at all times, especially in an area where enemy contact would be expected. It is the opinion of me and the two commanding officers present that Poseidon and Hustler deliberately left the safety of their craft which according to her last transmission was under armed attack.” Said Apollo “The question is…where are they now? They both were wearing locator transponders, and emergency helmet beacons, yet there was no sign of them with Dradis or mark one eyeball.”

“They were taken captive!” interrupted Matthew Lensherr. “The heavy raider most likely captured them after they were blown out of the ship, or willfully departed.”

“That’s what it looks like happened, Hephaestus.” Replied Apollo. “The Cylons are now alert to our presence in this sector, that Basestar was able to jump away, and we have no reason to doubt that they alerted every Basestar in communications range. It’s only a matter of time now…Admiral, the floor is yours.” Adama pulled himself up and strode to the podium, he towered over it, and he silently stared out to the squadron leaders sitting before him.

“Gentlemen, we are now at a crossroad. Do we turn and run for Earth, or stand our ground and fight what will most likely be overwhelming odds. It will only be a matter of time before the Cylons locate Earth in this system. Her only defense outside of these two Battlestars are approximately six squadrons of land-based vipers, and an equal amount of atmospheric jet fighters of the F-22 Raptor variety, Chengdu J-50, Migs, F161 Sufas, and a variety of European jetfighters. The second Battlestar is still under construction, and will not be ready for some time. Any Cylon force is going to arrive in this area first, and after consultation with Commander Tigh and Earth Defense Command I have decided to remain on station for the time being.”

The pilots wanted to hear more, they were angry that two of their own were missing, and possibly being detained and even tortured.

“As for our missing raptor team…we must assume they have been captured, and will most assuredly by interrogated by the Cylons. They both graduated near the top of their respective classes at the Colonial Military academy and are trained to resist torture. However, we must be ready to accept the fact that one can only endure so much. We will remain at condition two until further notice. If we encounter the Cylons, you and the pilots under your command will be our first line of defense. You must strike hard and fast, every pull of the trigger must be one shot one kill, we must minimize the amount of time our birds are offline to reload.”

The meeting ended, and the squadron leaders left for their assigned Battlestar. Lensherr and Sarnex stood at the rear of the launch bay, watching vipers get loaded into the tubes. The mood between the two friends was somber. “Matt I was less than 2 minutes away from them, I had the turbos kicked in and just couldn’t get there in time!”

“Mark there wasn’t anything you or those escort vipers could do. Breakout’s team was engaged with the raiders, and he later mentioned that he never even saw the heavy raider bug out. The turkey must have jumped to Poseidon’s position and took them out, there is no sign of them, and there is no transmission, so we have to assume they were taken prisoner. As tough as she is, they will break her and Hustler too. We have to be prepared for that possibility.”

“I didn’t have a good showing my first time out as top dog…”

“That’s a Fraking load, Mark,” said Lensherr cutting him off. “You guys were going head to head with a full compliment of seasoned raiders, many of your pilots new viper pilots, there is nothing at all to be ashamed of, and you guys did better than expected under the circumstances.”

“Thirty vipers to a Battlestar, I question the logic to that some days.”

“You know how long it takes to build a full-sized Battlestar, Mark. We do not have the time, even if they worked round the clock. These smaller Battlestars are faster, and more maneuverable than GALACTICA or even the Pegasus. Once they build the carrier hybrid, the firepower will be devastating. Eventually we’ll have the breathing room to build a full sized fleet of Battlestars, with luck the Cylons will decide we’re no longer worth the effort to eradicate.” Sarnex laughed and slapped Lensherr on the shoulder.

“My friend…you are the dreamer. The toasters are never going to stop; of course they may let you live seeing as how you’re now related through marriage.” Said Sarnex.

“You’re just jealous, my friend!” shot back Lensherr with a smile. “Get back to your ship Captain, get your wings in order and pray that we’ll be able to survive what they throw at us.” The two friends shook hands and parted ways. Lensherr’s thoughts turned to his wife and child. He missed them terribly, and the thought of dying out in the vastness of space was not appealing. If they were to fall to the Cylons, he wanted to be with his family when the time came.

She could hear the voices, muffled and distant but present nonetheless. They were soft and non-threatening, but she could not see them. It was so dark, yet she felt warm and safe. Elyssa DeAlma did not know where she was, all she knew was that it was difficult to focus, and she was no longer in her pilot’s seat of the raptor. The voices were growing louder ever so slightly, and the darkness replaced by a grainy twilight. Her eyelids started to open with great difficulty.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Captain DeAlma.” Came a disembodied voice. Elyssa knew that someone was in front of her, but her vision was blurred, and could not make out the details. She was lying down, her upper torso slightly inclined upwards. She wanted to ask where she was, but nothing came out when she opened her mouth.

“Try not to speak until you’ve gained your strength.” Said the mysterious voice, a cool cloth was softly passed over her forehead. “You’re safe.” The voice was that of a man, his touch gentle.

Leoben signaled Simon and the six series to step outside the room. “I want to continue with her in this vein. Keep her sedated and comfortable, I will be checking in on the other one.”

“By your command.” Replied Simon.

Leoben walked down the long hallway towards the holding cells. A centurion stepped aside so he could pass through the portal. The stench of the room assaulted his nostrils; looking ahead, he viewed a tall rectangular transparent container filled with filthy brown water. A cage that was suspended from the ceiling was submerged in it. The human shackled within the cage was in that filthy water up to his bare chest. Sharp spikes were positioned inside the cage and on the floor of it. Hustler had dozens of lacerations and puncture marks all over his body and on the soles of his feet. Infection had spread thanks to the sewage treated water.

Hustler lost track of the time, at one point he thought he had counted three days, but between the electric shocks and savage beatings he had lost consciousness multiple times. He was no longer sure how long he was in captivity. He vaguely remembers Centurions that had dragged him through the hallway. He was stripped of his flight suit and dog tags, the first human he recalled seeing was a man with a short-cropped hair, steel gray eyes and a chiseled face. Leoben Conoy, the most feared of the human model Cylons. That same face was now staring up at him.

“Has there been any progress?” he asked. A Simon model appeared, his white lab coat spattered with human blood and traces of the brown water Hustler currently found himself standing in.

“Outside of his name, rank and service identification he has said nothing of value. He keeps repeating certain phrases, like a mantra. I have determined he is using that as a point of focus in order to retain some sense of sanity.” Replied the scientist.

“They have been aboard almost a week now and he still hasn’t broken?” said Leoben with a trace of amazement. “The woman is being handled on a different track, but I’m surprised that this one hasn’t been broken. The levels of interrogation have been fairly barbaric.”

“His resistance to interrogation is quite high, but there is a ceiling, and it will eventually be broken.” Replied Simon.

Leoben turned to face Simon and said, “Get him out of there, clean the wounds and throw him in a dark cell for the time being.”

“By you command.” Said Simon placing his clipboard on a nearby stainless steel table. Working a hand-held remote the steel cage ascended from the container of cold, filthy water and was lowered to the floor. The stench was putrid, a dazed Hustler stood naked and bleeding within the cage. Donning a pair of long gloves, Simon unbolted the cage door and swung it open. Responding to a wireless cybernetic command the Centurion outside the door entered and walked up to the cage opening. Pushing a series of buttons on the remote the hand shackles snapped open and before Hustler could fall to the spiked floor the Centurion reached in and pulled the battered body out of the cage, placing it on a nearby gurney. Simon wheeled the gurney out of the chambers and down the hall.

In the command room of the Basestar, Doral and two Six models were discussing options. Doral was the first to speak. “I’m of the opinion that we should notify the fleet for reinforcements. Once we have Earth’s location from the captured pilots we can put an end to this.”

The Six model known as Gina responded as expected. “I believe that I along with the eight models, as well as the number threes have voiced our opposition to the annihilation of the humans. There is no need for it. There never should have been a need for it.”

“Be that as it may, the humans have built another Battlestar, and chances are they built it with revenge on their minds.” Replied Doral.

“Or self defense.” Countered the eight model.

“If the colonials have reached Earth, and united with their lost 13th tribe than we have no other option than to destroy them before they destroy us.”

“Why are you against any possibility of living separately, and in peace with the humans?”

“Because being human…they will eventually seek out retribution upon us, they will raise their offspring to hate us, to hunt us down and avenge those killed on the twelve worlds.” Said Leoben now entering the room, Lucifer at his side.

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Leoben.” Said Gina.

“Your model was instrumental in achieving victory over the humans, you seduced Dr. Gaius Baltar, persuaded him into giving you access to the defense main frame and allowed our forces to take them by complete and utter surprise.”

“That was Caprica Six, not me.”

“What is the difference?” said Leoben smiling. “In any event, I will not be calling for reinforcements at this time. Our forces need to be united under one command, and at this time, I am ensuring that this happens. We are the pinnacle of Cylon evolution; we have evolved from cybernetic service drones of human whim to masters of the galaxy. We have improved the human race by merging with it. There is a planet out there that will provide us with countless numbers to procreate and advance the next evolution of Cylon.”

“What do you intend to do with those unable or unwilling to procreate?” asked Gina.

“I will allow no opposition. Once all of Cylon has been unified under one command, the empire so to speak will maintain order throughout the galaxy.”

“I take it you intend to be that unified command.” Said Gina.

“Yes, and those that stand against me will be removed in the most horrific, and permanent way.” Replied Leoben turning his gaze towards Lucifer who stood silently at his side. His twin red eyes flashing back and fourth.

GALACTICA pilot’s ready room was halfway filled with fighter pilots, being on an alert status meant that no pilot was off duty, and none would be drinking any alcohol. The coffee urns were filled, and the pilots who were not sleeping were playing cards or engaged in other activities. At a corner table sat a handful of pilots from different squadrons. Lt. Caelyn Bailey Horn sat with Lieutenants Tev Torbek, Dennis Walker and Neil West. Major Kara Thrace had entered the room, poured herself a mug of coffee, and joined the other pilots at the table.

“You folks mind if I join you?” asked Starbuck not waiting for an answer as she sat down on an empty chair.

“Not at all, major.” Replied Torbek who went by the call sign Lancelot. He was shuffling a deck of cards with no intention of dealing them out. This was therapeutic for him and an absolute irritation for anyone else around him.

Starbuck was sipping her coffee when she noticed Hephaestus walk in, she gestured for him to come over and sit. After pouring himself a mug of coffee and rooting around a tray of pastries he settled for an apple turnover and sat down.

“I trust all of your ships are fully ready for launch if you’re all sitting around the ready room?” asked Lensherr rhetorically.

“Ready to turn and burn, skipper.” Replied West who wore his call sign stitched on a hat that read ASLAN.

Turning to Kara Thrace, he had inquired about Hannibal. A smile spread across her face as she replied that she got a chance to see him prior to Raptor one’s team going MIA. The relationship between the two was not a secret for some time, and the hardest part was being separated by their assignments to separate Battlestars. They had spent some real quality time on Earth, and looked forward to reuniting whenever leave would be granted, and that was not looking like it would happen too soon unfortunately.

Aphrodite and Prometheus were engaged in a private discussion, and Torbek continued with his card shuffling. Captains Nintius and Bastain entered the room and sat at a corner table. Betty and Falcon had always been close, and it was long rumored that there was something going on between the lead raptor pilot and Hunter Seeker’s squadron leader. However, very few people were close enough to either pilot to ask them directly, and even then, they probably would not get the answer they expected. The two looked happy and at ease with each other. Nintius wore a hat similar to Aslan’s that bore the call sign BETTY above the brim. Her long auburn hair tied into a neat ponytail hung beneath her shoulder blades.

Falcon rocked back in his seat as the two engaged in deep conversation. Captain Tony Bastain was an intensely private person and an excellent viper pilot who graduated first in his academy. He was recently promoted to squadron leader of the newly formed Hunter Seekers, and he was intent on turning it into a crack squadron. He missed the camaraderie of Blue squadron, but could not pass up the opportunity to spearhead his own squadron, to mold them into the type of pilots he felt essential to the fleet.

The topic on Nina Nintius’ mind was Elyssa DeAlma. She knew that DeAlma was a skilled raptor pilot who would do everything in her power to protect her ECO and avoid capture, but it was growing apparent that they were MIA over a week, and there had been no signal of any kind from either of them, nor had any bodies or body parts been recovered from the area the damaged raptor was found in.

“She’s a strong person Tony, but ever since we found Earth she slowly became a different person, more combative, more authoritative with junior officers, hell I was half expecting to walk into her quarters one day and find poor old Bedlam decked out in some skimpy maid outfit ironing out DeAlma’s dress uniform.

“Now that’s something I would dearly love to see, Bedlam has one hell of a body!” laughed Falcon. Nintius was unfazed by the comment, she was not a jealous person by nature, and it was true…Rachel Frost, assistant squadron leader of the Werewolves did indeed have a “hell of a body.”

“Nice, but completely inappropriate for a senior officer to abuse their junior officer. I have heard some rumors across the grapevine that she really had it in for Bedlam for some reason. From the moment she stepped foot on Terra-1, she was like a changed woman, and there had been a falling out between her and Nightstalker over something he’s too professional to mention.”

“I bet you could get it out of him.” Said Falcon sarcastically.

“Jealous, love?”

“You wish!” he replied.

Poseidon was awake now. She was on an extremely comfortable bed, and the intravenous lines had been removed earlier in the morning. She still felt a little off, and her focus was not complete. A knock at the door startled her, she was naked beneath the covers and she instinctively pulled up the covers. The door slid open, and the familiar face she had seen in many intelligence photos aboard GALACTICA entered the room. Leoben Conoy was dressed in a black shirt and loose pants of the same color. His steel gray eyes pierced the room, and he had a slight smile spread across his face. “Good morning, Captain.” It was the same voice she had heard earlier, now she had a face to go with the voice, and it unnerved her.

“Simon had informed me that you were now wide awake, and recovered from your injuries.” he said pleasantly.

“What injuries would that be, you people have kept me sedated!” said DeAlma defensively. Leoben sat down on the side of the bed, inches from DeAlma who flinched at the proximity. This man had nearly killed a Colonial officer when she was interrogating him. He was shackled to the floor, and was able to break the chain and upend a heavy table in seconds as he pinned that officer to the wall before the guards could even react. Leoben Conoy was indeed dangerous.

“You had collided with a piece of debris from your raptor and were knocked unconscious. You had broken two ribs which we have repaired.” DeAlma instinctively reached for her side, there was a minute amount of discomfort. Cylon technology was far more advanced than Colonial; there was no reason why their medical advancements should not surpass human medical advancements.

“Where is my Electronic Countermeasure Officer?” demanded DeAlma.

“Resting comfortably as we speak Elyssa, his injuries required a continued sedation to allow his body to recuperate” Said Leoben, his voice surprisingly soothing. She was taken aback by his response at using her first name. His eyes peered deeply into hers as if trying to penetrate the windows to her soul. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not the enemy. This conflict between our two races must end.” He said sincerely, his voice almost singsong in its tone. DeAlma found herself growing less tense in his presence.

“Am I a prisoner?” she asked sharply.

“Consider yourself a guest with limited access at this time.” Said Leoben still smiling. “To be honest with you, I have taken command of this Basestar, and copies of my series throughout our fleet are enacting my directives. Our people have been antagonistic for far too long, and I seek to change that.”

“Antagonistic?” said DeAlma incredulously. “Your chrome-plated ‘people’ did your best to exterminate my people. If not for the GALACTICA, there would be nobody left alive from the twelve colonies.”

“Yes, Admiral Adama is a resourceful person. He has succeeded in evading us for some time.” Said Leoben thoughtfully. “However, the time for conflict must end, and a final outcome must be forced or negotiated. You have found what you have sought since the destruction of the Colonies. You have found Earth!”

“Your intelligence is wrong, we haven’t found Earth.” Countered DeAlma.

Leoben’s smile widened, his eyes flared as he put his hand on DeAlma’s forearm. “How do you account for the extra Battlestar, Captain? The only other surviving Battlestar was the Pegasus, and she was destroyed at New Caprica.” His touch was not what DeAlma expected, nor was her reaction to it. She did not pull her arm away; she allowed his warm powerful hand to remain in light contact.

“I prefer to keep that information to myself.” Replied DeAlma smugly.

“Very well, you will remain aboard this Basestar as my guest. There is a Centurion outside your door, but you will be allowed to roam freely with certain exceptions. His hand was slightly stroking her arm, and his eyes bore deeper into her own. Standing up she had noticed how muscular his arms were, the biceps strained against the sleeves that contained them. He was an incredibly handsome Cylon thought DeAlma, and for some strange reason she did not feel threatened by him. There was the faintest trace of a pleasant aroma in the room, it relaxed her, and she lay back against her pillow and closed her eyes. She was soon fast asleep.

In the next room, Simon and Doral watched the exchange through an observation portal that was one way; in DeAlma’s cell, this portal took the shape of a mirror above a sink. Leoben walked in. “She seemed quite relaxed.” Observed Leoben.

“I removed her intravenous lines as instructed. The sedation is being pumped into the room from hidden vents. The longer she is exposed, the more her resolve weakens. Replied Simon.

“Continue your observations, and keep her sedated. I plan to work very closely with her myself.” Said Leoben with a wink.

Hours turn into days, and after flying three Combat Air Patrols, Hotdog was starting to feel tired. Where were the Cylons he thought? Almost two full weeks since the Basestar escaped and still no sign of a single raider, never mind the entire Cylon juggernaut that everyone was expecting. Perhaps they were trying to lure us into a false sense of security, if so then they were in for a disappointment. William Adama would never be caught flatfooted again, thought Costanza. They would remain on station at a modified level of action stations for as long as it took. Uranus was key; if the Cylons were going to reappear then they would come back to the scene of the crime so to speak.

Earth Defense Command had already begun the planning for a military outpost on Titan, one of Saturn’s moons. It would house approximately 6 squadrons of vipers, and 200 support personnel. Since the Colonies had shared their superior technology with Earth, the rush to build defenses had taken a priority, something that had rankled many of the former members of the Council of twelve, and many more citizens of Earth, mainly scientists, pioneers, medical researchers and peace activists. This infuriated Hotdog, sure the advanced technology was a tremendous boon with the potential to unlock many doors that Earth technology labored to unlock for decades prior to the Colonial fleet’s arrival at their blue and green world. As a former law enforcement officer prior to joining the Colonial military, Brendan Costanza knew that a free society remained free not only due to democracy, but due to military strength that bolstered that democracy. The Cylons would have to be fought; negotiations were the dreams of fools who had no prior experience with Cylons, or life outside their own planet. A soothing female voice roused him from his deep thoughts.

“Are you still awake over there, Hotdog?” Came the voice of Lt. Jenna St. Lynn from the comfortable seat of her raptor.

“Kraken, Hotdog…I am wide awake, thank you for asking. Just attempting to solve the mysteries of fate.” Replied Hotdog, an air of humor in his voice. Raptor 3 was 100 yards off his port wing, with Lancelot, Photon and Prometheus spread out across their assigned recon sectors.

“Perhaps you can solve the reason why I can’t keep Lancelot from hitting on me every five minutes. I may have to use something a little stronger than a fire extinguisher on his manhood the next time he starts up.” Laughed Kraken knowing that Lancelot could hear every word on his comline that was assigned to the CAP.

“Kraken, Lancelot…you’re gonna have to break sooner or later, just admit it…you want me!”

“I’d sooner deep-kiss a daggit, you Fraking deviant!” replied Kraken.

“Alright children, our time is coming to an end fortunately…let’s head back to GALACTICA and grab some dinner and rack time.” Ordered Hotdog altering his course for the aging Battlestar. The four vipers had regrouped and were trailing the wake of raptor three heading for home. Hunter Seeker squadron who were now enroute to their location would relieve them. Falcon had remained onboard due to a squadron leader’s meeting with the CAG.

After transferring the patrol to Hannibal, Silver Spar squadron had kicked in the turbos and headed for GALACTICA. The immense Battlestar glided majestically through space. A Colonial Battlestar projected force throughout the galaxy when the Colonies still existed. GALACTICA was the oldest front line Battlestar prior to the attack on the twelve worlds. As impressive as Terra-1 was, to Hotdog it paled in comparison to this incredible war machine.

“GALACTICA this is Hotdog requesting permission to land.”

“Hotdog, GALACTICA…permission granted, your patrol is directed to land in the port landing bay, over.” Said Captain Felix Gaeta over Hotdog’s comline.

“Message received GALACTICA…port landing bay.” Chopping back the Voram engines to a quarter power, Hotdog used his maneuvering thrusters on his final approach. His viper, christened Punisher glided through the cavernous portal and came to a stop on his assigned platform. As the magnetic locks engaged, the platform lowered into the hanger bay. When his viper was finally secured, he popped the canopy and removed his helmet. As he dismounted his viper Hephaestus, who had just left the meeting with the CAG met him.

“Greetings Hotdog, enjoy your patrol?”
“Hardly…had to listen to Kraken and Lancelot most of the patrol, those two need to get a Fraking room sooner rather than later.”

“Oh sure, that’s all we need. Those two are fire and ice; it would be a catastrophe of galactic proportions.” Laughed Lensherr.

“Skipper, I need to grab some chow, you care to join me?” The two friends made their way to the chow hall and filled their tray with the evening’s fare. Lensherr opted for the steak and steamed vegetables, and Costanza went for the Earth delicacies of veal parmesan and cavatti. He developed quite a liking for Italian food, and was thrilled when the mess officer decided to stock a good variety of different Earth foodstuff. The steaks were not what you would find in a fine steakhouse, but were not bad for a Battlestar.

“Hotdog, the Spars need to be on top of their game, hell all of the squadrons on both Battlestars better be at the top of their game when the Cylons show.”

“And what makes you think we aren’t?” asked Hotdog.

“I know we are, I just don’t want any of these minor distractions with Lancelot and Kraken. She damn near froze his balls off with a fire extinguisher and he STILL chases after her.”

“When these toasters show up they’ll be coming with everything they got in their arsenal. A Battlestar and a half won’t be anywhere near enough…you KNOW this.”

“Not much of a choice, it’s all we have, and running is out of the question. We just can’t pick up and run, the Cylons will eventually find Earth and who will protect them?” asked Lensherr.