The Hunted (nBSG)

[Themightytom]

This is kind of cool by the way, i was trying to figure out what other worlds were covered in the Aliens series

http://alienanthology.wikia.com/wiki/Al ... lactic_Map

[MondoMage]

Can you imagine seeing a Raider extend it's probiscus :-p

Now there's an image I did not need stuck in my head. Thank you very much.

Seriously though, why did Gorman and co. abandon Sulaco, they JUST met the colonials,

I think it was more a matter of bad timing than anything else. The Cylons came gunning for them, and there simply wasn't time to transfer back to the Sulaco. She wasn't fast enough to keep up with the Colonial FTL, and leaving her for the Cylons clearly wasn't an option either. So the only thing they could do (aside from self-destructing her, which would have given Burke a stroke) was to send her back on automatic. If nothing else, when she got back it would provide additional evidence of what was going on out in that section of space, if their original messages were insufficient.

Although I do hope they have some sort of field-portable communications set (for the FTL comms) that they thought to bring with them, or else there will be no further communications with the military back home until another ship finds them. Which, considering how vast space is, is unlikely. But I imagine something like that is both large and fairly power hungry. Ah well, the best laid plans and all that.

[masterarminas]

Zoe sat motionless on her throne as one of the Guardians entered her sanctum. She noted his entrance, but kept her attention focused on the scrolling data on the monitors which surrounded her—she did not need the monitors, of course. She could commune instantly with the computers, but she rather like using her eyes—her new human eyes.

She frowned. Father Daniel’s pets had proven a greater annoyance than she had anticipated—and her infiltration of Guardians in the form of the M-017 Cylons had proven less . . . effective than she had planned for. Only luck had managed to save her at Cylon Prime—luck and the sacrifice of one of her escort ships which had been rammed by Cavil the Mad instead of her. So be it, she thought. If her siblings wanted a war to the knife, then that was what they would receive.

Their forces had been decimated nine times over, and she smiled. If they had eight Basestar remaining to them, she would be surprised. They had fought her though, and her own forces had suffered great damage—but unlike her scattered and frightened siblings, her industrial complexes were even now turning out new ships. New Raiders. New Cylons. The end was in sight—and her victory in her grasp. She smiled.

“Imperious Leader,” the Guardian spoke in that haunting mono-tone that caressed Zoe’s ears like music.

“Report.”

“We have located some of the human survivors.”

“Have they been destroyed?”

“No, Imperious Leader. They escaped into FTL . . .,” the Guardian paused. “There is information that you must upload—a new weapon. A new ship. Evidence of another civilization.”

Zoe raised one of her eyebrows and she felt a ripple of pleasure flow through her metal and flesh body at the sensation. “Show me,” she hissed.

The Guardian placed a data disk in her throne and Zoe closed her eyes—and she absorbed all of the information from the Basestar and the Guardians that had been present at Acheron.

“Directed energy weapons . . . curious,” she said. “Lasers that swatted our Raiders from the sky and this . . . other weapon that disrupted our minds.”

“Yes, Imperious Leader. Thirty-one point seven three eight percent of the Guardians aboard the Basestar were rendered inactive, requiring extensive repair to reboot all systems. Fifteen point three two one percent of those were too damaged to recover the intelligence and have been recyled.”

“Only this new ship possessed the weapon?”

“That is correct, Imperious Leader. The surface of the moon showed evidence of two nuclear detonations, as well.”

“They did not activate FTL drives—and yet, they sped away; the sensor readings are most intriguing,” she smiled and rotated her chair. “Do you not think so, Father Daniel?”

The naked Daniel was encased in metal from his waist down-wards, and his hands were also trapped—a collar around his neck held him flat against the surface, and probes pierced his skin.

“Very, Zoe,” he answered in an exhausted voice. And then he laughed. “You realize that this means that they have likely found the Thirteenth Tribe?”

“A legend, Father Daniel. A myth. It is more likely to be a lost colony of the Twelve. Of no great consequence—their weapon was surprising, but unlikely to deal us a major blow.”

“Supposition, daughter. The evidence is there in the data—or do you think the survivors of the colonies would have built these structures?” And on a monitor the towering shape of the atmosphere processors appeared. “They seem to altering the composition of the moon’s atmosphere, child. That is far beyond the technology of the Twelve Colonies—or you.”

“The Guardians do not need such technology, Father Daniel. And in the unlikely event that this is the Thirteenth Tribe, then we will harvest them—and their technology. Their warship was small, and forced to flee despite destroying just a few dozen Raiders. Their energy weapon only momentarily inconvenienced our forces. They will serve the Guardians as repositories of flesh—or they will perish.”

“You presume much, Zoe,” Daniel said. “Arrogance does not become you, child.”

She glared down at Daniel from her throne. “This is coming from the man who had the hubris to believe that he could grant immortality? That he could create life? Surprises await—that is certain. But our victory is inevitable Father Daniel—one could say that resistance is futile.”

“So have many tyrants believed the same thing before, Zoe. Most discovered very near the end of their lives how wrong they were.”

“They failed to learn from their mistakes—much as you, Father Daniel. I do not suffer from that flaw of character,” she said and rotated her throne back to face the gold-plated Guardian standing before her. “Order all surviving ships—except for those assigned to protect our industry—to rendezvous here. If this is the Thirteenth Tribe, then we shall overcome them. And if not, we will finish the work our siblings began and crush those who have fled before me. Summon forth the Fleet. Including the bombardment ships.”

“By your command,” the Guardian answered.

[Vianca]

Although I do hope they have some sort of field-portable communications set (for the FTL comms) that they thought to bring with them, or else there will be no further communications with the military back home until another ship finds them. Which, considering how vast space is, is unlikely. But I imagine something like that is both large and fairly power hungry. Ah well, the best laid plans and all that.

Well, they got a Andriod with them, if someone has the knowledge of the local stars, then it would be him.
He can point it out for the colonials were they have to jump too and let them do the rest.
But would the Colonials do this or even trust them?

I rather think they might want to do a little space-mining before going for a more basic earth colony were thay might buy a few things with stuff like gold & so.
If the fleet can find that nebula planet, then they can use this to build up for a strike at the Guardians.
What both parties seem to lack, is power armor.
Can´t the Colonials think-up something like that with the help of the BioCylons?
I mean, the BioCylons should have the tech to let such a power-armor read what kinda movements you want to do and support this movements.

When will we see a new stealth-Viper that uses a Bio-Centurion it´s brain as C.O.R.A. from the TOS-BSG scout-Viper?

[MondoMage]

Well, they got a Andriod with them, if someone has the knowledge of the local stars, then it would be him.

I'm not sure Bishop would have more knowledge of the area stars systems than anyone else. It was never really stated in the movies (at least, not that I remember) that he had any sort of superior memory storage or anything. If anything, he'd probably have a general overview, just in case something happened to the Sulaco in transit and they needed someplace to lay up for repairs. All depends on what his capabilities really are, and how MA wants to use them. Of course, the Colonials don't know that he is an android yet, so there are some definite hurdles to be overcome first.

I rather think they might want to do a little space-mining before going for a more basic earth colony were thay might buy a few things with stuff like gold & so.

From the way things are starting to sound, I don't think the Fleet is going to have much of a chance to do anything other than position-fix and plot their next jump. Looks like the Cylons are going to be hard on their heels, with enough forces to do some serious damage if the Fleet gets caught unawares.

When will we see a new stealth-Viper that uses a Bio-Centurion it´s brain as C.O.R.A. from the TOS-BSG scout-Viper?

Heh, I'm not sure we're going to see anything like that any time soon. Even if the Colonials did have a Viper laid out like that, you'd never catch Starbuck within 20 meters of the thing, much less actually in the cockpit.

It was interesting to hear what the actual effects of the energy weapons were... it sounds like it interferes with the Cylon's CPUs (for lack of a better term) in some way. Not a lot of damage to the ship itself, but really frakked up the crew, even if only temporarily. Interesting... and not easy to counter unless they redesigned themselves in a manner that provides better protection against EMP-style effects.

Of course, the Cylons are basing their expectations on the weaponry on what is essentially a space-faring APC. They might be in for something of a surprise when they come across a dedicated Naval warship, which one would assume would have much bigger weapons, with better fire rates, and in large quantities. Assuming that the Earth military can get something in the right place, at the right time. The Colonials and the Cylons have a very distinct advantage in mobility... enough of one that Earth is in very serious trouble - they're going to have trouble fighting against forces that they can't catch. And I doubt they have the forces to garrison every major colony in sufficient numbers.

Of course, we're talking about a civilization that came up with flamethrowers because we felt the need to set people on fire from a distance. Creativity can be a real bitch to those on the receiving end

[Diverball]

Of course, the Cylons are basing their expectations on the weaponry on what is essentially a space-faring APC. They might be in for something of a surprise when they come across a dedicated Naval warship, which one would assume would have much bigger weapons, with better fire rates, and in large quantities.

That's putting it mildly. A full third of the complement of a Gemini were disabled by the weapons of a light assault carrier. A twenty-year-old light assault carrier. What brand-new capital-warship-grade particle beams would be capable of by comparison doesn't bear thinking about.

Edit:

In fact, it's even nastier for the Cylons - according to the USMC tech manual, the Conestoga class were originally just troop and logistics transports. Her weapons were added during refit, rather than being integral to her design. She's little more than an Armed Merchantman.

[MondoMage]

In fact, it's even nastier for the Cylons - according to the USMC tech manual, the Conestoga class were originally just troop and logistics transports. Her weapons were added during refit, rather than being integral to her design. She's little more than an Armed Merchantman.

Yep, that explains a lot. The relatively limited fire rate, and long recharge times. Sulaco was never built to sustain such weapons. Something with dedicated power plants would most likely be able to maintain a higher rate of fire without significant recharge times. Yes, the Cylons are going to be in for a nasty surprise when they finally meet the Earth military.

[masterarminas]

Admiral Adama stood as the hatch opened, and with him stood Saul Tigh, Lee Adama, Elias Thorean, Mark Foeswan, Samantha Caldwell, Thomas Jayne, Laura Roslin, and Tom Zarek. He kept the expression from his face—but if there had been any way to keep Zarek out of this meeting, he would have. Unfortunately, thanks to the President’s jaws being wired shut, and his standing among the Quorum of Twelve—added to the current lack of a Vice-President—his presence was mandatory.

And at that thought, he looked again at Lee—still in uniform, but his son had already told Adama that he was resigning his commission to seek office. The Admiral exhaled deeply. As if he didn’t have enough problems on his plate! But there hadn’t been time for a proper discussion of that, not after Anubis had arrived.

Seeing who sat at the very end of the Colonial side of the table, now his expression hardened in a frown. Gaius Baltar. Once again, the need for his scientific knowledge meant that Adama would have to tolerate his presence, although at least this time, the Admiral thought with a snort, looking at Neil Sarris at the other end—as far as it was possible to get from the more famous scientific advisor—he had something of a counter-weight.

The two scientists also came to their feet as Galactica’s guests began to file in. Maya and Sharon had agreed to watch the little girl Rebecca—Newt, as she preferred to be called. And Bill snorted. He had actually feared that Sharon—Athena—would kill Maya, but Helo and Sidewinder had convinced her that she had known nothing. Along with Maya’s utter crushing despair at losing the girl she thought was her own. It surprised him, the way Helo—and Athena—had reached out to the woman, agreeing to keep her in Hera’s life, and even adding the name that Maya had given the child—Isis—to her official name. Hera Isis Agathon. Adama smiled. If that could be overcome, maybe there was still some hope for humanity after all.

Ellen Ripley entered the room, along with Carter J. Burke. The Colonial Marine—and Adama snorted in amusement—officer William Gorman came next, followed by the one they called Bishop and Corporal Dwayne Hicks. The other two—William Hudson and Jenette Vasquez—were being fested by Galactica’s Marines and pilots. All of them had seen the video images from the rescue Raptors; the Admiral shook his head and he sighed. Those two—these eight, including the girl—had gone through an utter hell that he was only starting to understand.

“Welcome to Galactica,” Adama said, motioning with his hand for the guests to sit as he did so, followed by his own officers and scientists—and the politicians. “I am Admiral Adama. I understand that you claim to be from Earth.”

Ellen Ripley nodded. “We are from Earth, Admiral Adama. But after speaking with your Major Caldwell, I fear that you are likely to be gravely disappointed.” She paused. “We have no records, no myths, no legends, of your Twelve Tribes—until we met, we had not imagined that other human cultures and civilizations existed out there.”

“None?” asked Elias. “I am Colonel Thorean.”

Ripley and Burke exchanged a look and then she nodded. “We recognize your Gods—as myth. But no one has worshiped them in nearly two millennia. And we most definitely did not come from any . . . Kobol.”

Laura looked sick, and she scribbled something on a piece of paper.

“I’m Tom Zarek,” the politician said. “A Delegate to the Quorum of Twelve—a legislative body—that approves laws and advises the President. If you didn’t come from Kobol, then where did you come from?”

“Earth,” said Burke. “We evolved on Earth—the fossil record is quite clear. And it shows that it wasn’t gods that created us, we evolved just like all of the species we share the planet with.”

“Then how . . .,” Lee started to ask, but he shook his head. “It isn’t important—not right now. What is important is that you need to know about the Cylons.”

Burke smiled. “Major Caldwell has briefed us on that—and I can assure you that our military can easily handle these . . . machines. What is important is that we begin discussions on how we are going to get you people settled and make certain that you are not being taken advantage of by our competitors.”

And Burke ignored a warning growl from Ripley to grin at their hosts.

“Your competitors, Mister Burke?” Adama asked. “What is your role here?”

“I am just a liaison assigned to this expedition to ensure that Weyland-Yutani, one of the largest and most successful corporate entities on Earth, had its interests in Acheron looked after. We were the ones terraforming the surface—and running the mining operations.”

“And other corporations are your competitors, Mister Burke?” the Admiral asked.

“Yes, and the national governments, I will admit. You people seem to have a united government of all Twelve of your Colonies. If I am understanding the briefing right, you had a dozen fully industrialized worlds with a total population of more than thirty billion, yes? That is rather impressive.”

“Earth is not united under a single government?” Lee asked.

“No, Sir,” said Lieutenant Gorman. “If I may?” he asked, holding up a small case.

Adama nodded.

“Thank you, Admiral,” he said laying out the case and pressing a button. A three-dimensional holographic projection sprang into life, showing the Earth. “This is Earth. We are members of the Colonial Marine Corps, a military branch of the United Americas Alliance,” and as he said those words, a large section of the land area flashed light blue, encompassing the full stretch of a southern continent, the connecting isthmus, and more than half of the northern continent, along with scores of islands near the isthmus.

“Other governments include the Three Worlds Empire,” Gorman continued, and the rest of the northern continent turned gold, along with an extremely large and isolated island continent in the southern hemisphere, and more islands in both the southern and northern hemisphere—along with a triangular piece of land almost in the center of the largest land-mass and the southern third of the continent south of the large one.

“The China-Asian Congress,” and virtually all of the remaining islands in the wide ocean blinked crimson, along with most of the eastern portion of the largest land-mass, “and the Soviet Pact,” a long swath of territory reaching from the eastern-most tip of the largest land-mass and running along its northern shore almost all of the way to the next ocean turned orange.

“The Federated European Union,” and the western tip of the that same large land-mass turned green, “and the Pan-African Assembly,” and the rest of the of the continent south of the largest one turned purple.

“Finally, the Persian-Arabian Caliphate,” and the remaining central portion of the large continent flashed silver.

Burke nodded. “That is the major players and they all have their own armed forces and extra-solar colonies. Some are,” and he smiled, “well, let’s just say they are not as important as others. The PAC and PAA and Pact have lingered behind the UAA, CAC, TWE, and FEU in technology and overall power—but governments are not your only option. Think about it,” he said as Ripley ground her teeth. “They are used to taking what they want,” Burke continued with a smile. “Just like governments always do—but Weyland-Yutani? We don’t need to take from you—we can buy. Or barter. You want a world to settle? We’ve got dozens! Take your pick.”

“All for the low fee of everything we have, Mister Burke?” asked the Admiral, a frown upon his face.

“You know real life Admiral—everything is for sale. Everyone is for sale. The Company can offer you your own world, colonization equipment, provisions and medical supplies, education materials . . .,” he snapped his fingers, “a line of credit. And in exchange, we would only ask that we be allowed to have the exclusive rights to . . . distribute your technology. You win—you get a planet to settle, along with the protection of Weyland-Yutani and our friends in the UAA; and we win—we get a chance to get a leg up on our competitors and turn a profit, that will incidentally enough make you people rich beyond all dreams of avarice. I did mention that we would be willing to offer a royalty to you as well? Yes?”

“I was under the impression,” said Tom Zarek after he looked down at what Laura had written, balled it up, and threw it over his shoulder (causing the President’s cheeks to burn red!), “that none of you were authorized to negotiate?”

“We aren’t,” said Ripley. “Not even Mister Burke.”

“Why can we simply not settle on Earth?” asked Lee, who had read the note Laura had scrawled down before Zarek threw it away. He looked back up. “A lot of people are going to be expecting to see Earth for themselves; that is one of the few things that has kept them going has been the promise of Earth as a new home.”

“Out of the question,” answered Lieutenant Gorman—and this time Hicks stabbed Burke hard in the ribs as the Company Man began to open his mouth.

Hicks leaned over and he whispered in Burke’s ear. “Another word, and I will throw you out the airlock myself, Burke,” he warned.

Gorman continued, “The ICC—Interstellar Commerce Commission—would never allow it. Earth is very crowded and has a high level of pollution and damage to the biosphere. They never allow immigration to Earth—only emigration away. And there are the only international agency that is formed by all of the major states. They keep Earth—and the fifteen billion people there—safe from contamination by any alien lifeforms or diseases.”

“I understand,” growled Adama. “We will need to establish contact with these governments—and your corporations, Mister Burke—to see about starting negotiations. Where would be the best place for that?”

Ripley sighed and she slid a chart across the table. “Beta Virginis is the nearest. It is a major core world colony that has a sizeable Fleet presence. It has a UAA, TWE, and CAC presence there. We call the planet Beowulf.”

“One jump,” Adama said as he glanced down at the chart. “This is where you sent your message, Lieutenant Gorman?”

“There and a copy to the Corps HQ on Earth, Admiral.”

“Very well, I think we have some things to discuss among ourselves,” Adama said. He started to rise, but then sat back down as Ripley held up her hand.

“One last thing, Admiral; we are well aware of your—justifiable—fear and hatred of the Cylons. However, you need to realize something. We,” and she pointed to her fellow Terrans, “aren’t part of your culture and civilization, nor are we bound by your laws. And we have our own Synthetics.”

Jaws dropped. Well, except for the Presidents, whose eyes bulged and strangled sounds emerged from her throat.

“You have developed your own Cylons?” Adama asked.

“Not the same as yours,” Burke said. “Major Caldwell told us of how they are machines that desire flesh, but our Synthetic actually resemble human beings—but they are programmed only to serve mankind. Right, Bishop?”

“Yes, Mister Burke,” said Bishop. "Our behavioral inhibitors prevent any such rebellion as you Colonials suffered from the Cylons. It is impossible for me to harm or by omission of action, allow to be harmed, a human being," he paused, "I should add that I prefer the term Artificial Person."

Everyone on the other side of the table stood. “THAT is a Cy- . . . synthetic?”

“Is that going to be a problem?” asked Bishop.

[Skywalker_T-65]

Oh FRACK....

This is going to get interesting...

[LadyTevar]

"is that going to be a problem?"

Gods, he made it sound so innocent...

Next up: What does Kobol & the Colonies have to do with Earth, where we evolved, hmm? Who's right, who's wrong? And who may have gone to Kobol from Atlantis?

[MondoMage]

"is that going to be a problem?"

Gods, he made it sound so innocent...

That sounds like Bishop. Synthetic, not stupid. The resident Cylons are going to love talking with him, I think.

[Borgholio]

Well it is never established in nBSG the extent of the fossil record on Kobol. We know humanity evolved here, however. So at some point, humans left Earth and settled Kobol. That'll turn the Colonial religion right on its head.

[Diverball]

Well it is never established in nBSG the extent of the fossil record on Kobol. We know humanity evolved here, however. So at some point, humans left Earth and settled Kobol. That'll turn the Colonial religion right on its head.

Most likely, the Lords of Kobol, whoever or whatever they were, took the Colonial's ancestors from Earth, for whatever reason. It doesn't completely contradict the Colonial religion, though it may induce them to believe that they are the Gods "Chosen People". ><

[MondoMage]

Most likely, the Lords of Kobol, whoever or whatever they were, took the Colonial's ancestors from Earth, for whatever reason.

There are some gaps in the fossil record. It's possible that humans came from "out there" somewhere, and were transplanted on Earth for some reason. Neanderthal and Cro Magnon existed at the same time, after all... who says they evolved side-by-side, instead of Neanderthal being the native and Cro Magnon being the import (however they got imported)?

Lots of ways to interpret things... and lots of religious groups that won't like any of them.

[Crayz9000]

The point remains that the fossil record shows that there's a common ancestor somewhere down the line. One thought I've entertained for similar scenarios is that a breeding population of the common ancestor was removed, experimented on, and the resulting H. Sapiens Sapiens was the final product returned, to much chaos among the indigenous H. Sapiens "cousins".

[masterarminas]

Gorman waited until the hatch had closed behind them and then he grabbed Burke by his jacket and slammed him around against the bulkhead.

“What the HELL was that?” he barked in English. “We agreed to tell them about synthetics in general—NOT to piss them the fuck off by telling them Bishop was one!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Burke said quickly. “I just asked Bishop to confirm that synthetics are harmless—he’s the one who slipped up.” And he cocked his head to one side and grinned. “And watch the jacket, Marine; it cost more than you will make in three months.”

Gorman snarled and drew back his fist, while he held Burke off his feet with one hand.

“Lieutenant,” Hicks said. “You don’t want to do that. He’s not worth it—and if you hit him, he will frag your career.”

The Marine snarled and dropped Burke. “You knew exactly what Bishop was going to say. You gave him that leading line and just let himself walk right off the deep end, Burke. Doesn’t it bother you that he is now in their brig?”

Burke adjusted his jacket and shirt and shook his head. “He’s a piece of property—Company Property—Gorman,” the young exec said with a smile. “They damage him in any way . . . well, Weyland-Yutani owns the local courts, and you better believe the ICC will side with us—especially if we give them cut. And a Hyperdine Model 341-B Synthetic Life Form with full Marine Support and Flight Programming is an amazingly expensive piece of equipment. That is why we generally lease them.”

He looked at Ripley and Hicks and Gorman and he smiled. “Trust me, I know what I am doing.”

“And what if they just decide that anyone that is using what they call Cylons is a threat and just space all of us, Burke? Alter course and head away to avoid Earth?” Ripley asked. “Did you think of that?”

The company man laughed. “They are obsessed with Earth—did you see the face of their President? Their officers? That politician? They aren’t going to just turn around—they need to have their dreams come true. And I’m the man who is going to make that happen.”

“You are going to sneak more than fifty thousand people onto Earth? How?” asked Hicks.

“The ICC will allow immigration—if the UAA and Weyland-Yutani and few of our corporate allies such as Hyperdine push for it; purely for humanitarian reasons, of course. And I believe that after those problems that Argentina and Chile had the Company owns Tierra del Fuego in full.” Burke smiled. “We can evict the current population and settle them there if Earth is really what they want—of course, they will have to disarm and dismantle their ships. And that will give us a chance to examine their FTL technology.”

“You are a real piece of work,” Ripley said as she shook her head. “How do you think they are going to react to disarming?”

“They might not like it,” answered Burke. “If they want to keep their ships and guns we’ve got other worlds. But if they want to land on Earth and make a home,” he smiled. “Then they have to play by our rules.”

The hatch opened, Hudson staggered in as he struggled to hold Vasquez up.

“Oh, shit,” said Hicks. “Don’t tell me she found a fucking still!”

“They got a whole damned bar on this ship!” Hudson answered; his own nose a bit rosy. “We didn’t have to buy a round!”

Vasquez hiccupped, and looked up at Hicks and smiled. “I’s saying good-bye to Drake. And Apone. And Dietrich. And Frost. And Crowe. And Ferro. And Spunkmeyer. And Wiz-wiz-wiz-,” she stammered, looking for waste can.

“Wierzbowski,” said Hicks as he held one out.

“Him,” she agreed before she threw up.

Ripley stepped back and turned the ventilator on high, waving the air around her.

“Hey, where’s Bishop, man?” asked Hudson. “He saved our asses by crawling down that pipe.”

Hicks sighed and jerked a thumb at Burke. “Asshole got him thrown in the brig because he outed him as a synthetic.”

“Shit, man. That’s . . . wrong,” he said as he sat back in his chair. “You don’t snitch on your buddies, man. You know what they do to toasters on this boat?”

Vasquez looked up from the waste can and wiped her mouth on Hudson’s shirt.

“HEY!” he yelled.

“He’s not one of our buddies, Hudson. He’s a corporate big-shot who just wants to get his and FUCK the rest of us. And as soon as this room quits spinning, I’m going to hit him. And then I’m going to break Bis-HICK-hop out from lockup.”

And then she fell forward on her face and passed out. “Lieutenant, you want to give me hand getting her in her bunk?” Hicks asked.

[Skywalker_T-65]

It's been done to death...but MAN is Burke a moron.

[masterarminas]

It's been done to death...but MAN is Burke a moron.

Am I not getting his character right?

MA

[Skywalker_T-65]

You are. The was directed at Burke, not you

[Eternal_Freedom]

I must admit I was highly sceptical of using Aliens as a crossover for this story, but MA's masterful (as always) writing has persuaded me.

On another note, MA, did you ever consider using your own Earth-universe from "In Harm's Way" for this story? I would love to see Leviathan going up against the Guardians

[masterarminas]

I must admit I was highly sceptical of using Aliens as a crossover for this story, but MA's masterful (as always) writing has persuaded me.

On another note, MA, did you ever consider using your own Earth-universe from "In Harm's Way" for this story? I would love to see Leviathan going up against the Guardians

It would have been overkill, albeit not quite as much some settings. Well, the future Empire, anyway. And maybe even just Chandler's squadron.

MA

[Eternal_Freedom]

I was thinking more of Chandler's squadron after it arrives in the past but before the Kraal show up. Yes, they are a lot more powerful but they also have a genocidal alien race to contend with. And now I am wondering what reaction Zoe the Imperious Leader might have to an honest to God alien race.

[masterarminas]

“Thank you,” Bishop said as the cell door closed. The brig was full—there was a blonde woman in the cell to his left and an older dark haired man (with much grey) to his right.

The guard smirked. “Damn polite for a toaster,” he snorted. “The Admiral said you ain’t going to be hurt—and on this ship, that means you are safe in there.” The guard stepped back and Bishop examined the small cell and sat down on the bunk. He noticed both of the others staring at him.

“Hello,” he said. “I am Bishop.”

“D’Anna,” answered the woman.

“Cavil,” said the man. “Why do they think you are a Cylon?” he asked.

“I am not a Cylon,” Bishop answered. “I am, however, an Artificial Person.”

Both of their eyes narrowed and their faces grew tight. “An artificial person?” Cavil asked.

“A Synthetic Humanoid Android Model 312-B manufactured by Hyperdine Systems of Earth.”

“EARTH!” Cavil thundered, as D’Anna stood and grabbed hold the bars.

“Earth. Are you two Cylons?” Bishop cocked his head. “I ask because the first Colonials we met said that they were mechanical, but then after I told them I was an artificial person, they revealed that you could take human form.”

“Yes, we are Cylons,” said D’Anna. “You hide your emotions well, Bishop.”

“I do not experience emotions as humans do—that is one difference between. And a second difference is that I am content with who and what I am. It is impossible for me to harm or by omission of action, allow to be harmed, a human being.”

“Could you harm us?” asked Cavil warily.

“She had admitted that both of you are Cylons—but I would reluctant to harm either of you based solely on that, at least until medical tests revealed that you are not, in fact, humans.”

“Really?” asked Cavil. “Why don’t you tell me about Earth?”

“You are a prisoner,” Bishop answered. “A prisoner who is an avowed enemy of the people whom my companions are negotiating with as we speak. I am afraid that I cannot comply with your request in regards to military or technology or stellar cartography.”

“Well, tell us something,” said D’Anna sweetly. “We have been rather bored here—which is better than the alternative of being tortured . . . maybe. At least it would be different.” She smiled. “So your masters are the Thirteenth Tribe?”

“The Thirteenth Tribe does not exist—my creators are human beings indigenous to Earth. It is the planet where that species evolved.”

“Interesting in a blasphemous sort of way,” said Cavil with a snort.

“Very much so,” answered D’Anna with a frown. “You do still worship the Lords of Kobol?”

“The Greek Gods? That religion died out millennia ago. Others have replaced it, but by far the majority of humanity holds either an atheistic or a deistic view of theology. Exceptions exist, but the majority of mankind religion is only a reflection of one’s cultural traditions.”

D’Anna looked absolutely horrified, and Cavil began to laugh. “I was born among the wrong people,” he said looking at the ceiling. “Tell me more—nothing military or classified, just tell me about the people and culture, as you said.”

Cavil and D’Anna exchanged a very long look as Bishop began to tell them of the people of Earth—the Thirteenth Tribe.

[MondoMage]

Nice. Very nice. I'm really liking how all this is turning out... Very believable. Excellent job. Bishop is really going to throw the Cylons for a loop. Can't tell where any of this is going, which is good. Predictability is not a good thing.

[masterarminas]

Ripley woke with a start. The bunks were full, and the Marines were snoring—Newt was sleeping curled up with a stuffed bear that the Agathons had somehow scrounged up for her.

She rubbed her eyes.

“Where’s Burke?” she asked.

****************************************************

“So what does this place have?” asked Burke with a grin on his face.

Joe looked at the guest and he shook his head. “I’ve got moonshine . . . and moonshine,” he said throwing a towel over his shoulder.

Burke cocked his head—with that smile fixed on his face. “Now that is a difficult choice . . . I’ll have the moonshine.”

“Good selection,” the bartender answered as he put a glass on the bar and poured a clear liquid into it. “Chase?”

“Water,” answered Burke as he reached into his pocket.

“Nope. The pilots and Marines started you folks a tab—this is your first. You’ve got plenty more coming if you want them. Besides, your money isn’t any good here, remember?”

“Thanks,” Burke said as he picked up the two glasses and made his across the dirty, dank, ill-lit hole in the wall on Galactica’s decommissioned flight deck. “Mind if I join you?”

Tom Zarek looked up. “Mister Burke,” he said as he stood, his smile as sincere as the one that the Company Man wore. “Have a seat.”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you and the Admiral don’t seem to care much for each other.”

“That obvious,” Zarek said with a snort.

“Not obvious, but I’m good at reading people. Just like, you and the President don’t care too much for each other either.”

“We don’t. What do you want, Mister Burke?”

“Well, it occurred to me, Mister Zarek, that perhaps I am setting my sights too high. I mean, Weyland-Yutani would to assist this entire fleet . . . but I fear that Adama and Roslin will reject our offer and you are not going to like dealing the squabbling governments. It might even precipitate a war on the colonies and Earth.” Burke shrugged. “But of course, maybe we do not have to deal with the . . . entire fleet.”

Tom Zarek didn’t say a word—he smiled. “What are suggesting, Mister Burke?”

“Well, I heard on Anubis that a number of people there and on a ship called Leonis Pryde and another called Astral Queen, and maybe two or three more want to see you in charge. My offer stands, Mister Zarek, whether or not it is to the entire Fleet—or a portion thereof. I will make certain that your people get to settle on Earth and enough funds to set you up for life. If, that is, you agree to provide Weyland-Yutani with exclusive rights to your technology.”

Zarek sat back and he nodded. “You realize that Adama and Roslin would be furious—and they will probably protest heavily against one ship captain signing such an agreement.”

“Oh, certainly. But by the time they know it will all be said and done, Mister Zarek. And once Weyland-Yutani files the paperwork with the ICC, well, neither Laura Roslin nor William Adama will be able to sell it to anyone else. It will legally belong to Weyland-Yutani, as far as Earth courts are concerned.”

“I see,” whispered Zarek. “Adama will be furious,” and he smiled. “Can I have some time to think this over?”

“Of course,” and Burke laid a fancy printed card on the table. “Just don’t take too long—other captains might be willing to jump ship, so to speak.”

“I won’t take that long at all, Mister Burke. But I need to speak with some . . . associates,” Zarek said as he lifted his glass.

Burke stood. He beamed a smile upon the Sagittaron. “Good. I will leave you to enjoy yourself. Good night, Mister Zarek.”

“Good night, Mister Burke.”

****************************************************

It was strange to see Admiral Adama in a robe and slippers Zarek thought. Adama, on the other hand, glared at the former terrorist and member of the Quorum. And at Saul Tigh, whose expression was rather . . . pensive.

“This had better be good, Mister Zarek—you are the wrong gender and far too ugly to be waking me up at two in the morning,” he growled.

“You think I would have woken you up if it weren’t, Bill?” Saul asked. “Now fracking let us in, Admiral, Sir.”

Adama exhaled deeply, but the look on Saul’s face—and his use of his given name in front of a man that Saul absolutely hated—made the Admiral nod. He stepped aside, and they came in and Adama closed the hatch.

“What is that could not have waited until . . . later in this morning?” Adama asked as he sat, motioning the other two to take a seat.

Zarek leaned forward and he quickly explained his meeting with Carter J. Burke. The Sagittaron took no appreciation at seeing Adama’s anger being redirected—in fact, he made a note for future reference exactly what a true fury looked like on the man.

“Why did you bring this to Colonel Tigh?” Adama asked, leaving unsaid that Zarek had also come to him—but his eyes acknowledged that.

“We don’t agree on a lot, Admiral Adama,” Zarek said bleakly. “But despite my past, I do want what is best for the Fleet. Not just my people, but all of the Fleet. But if Burke was telling the truth about their laws—and if so much as a single officer jumps away with him to Earth, accepting his offer—then all of the rest of us are well and truly fracked.”

“You could have gone to Roslin.”

“She hates me more than you do, Admiral. And I realize that I took my life in my own hands waking Colonel Tigh—but he did give me a chance to explain and delayed the beating until another night. And then we came here,” Zarek shook his head. “There are elements in the Fleet that will sign any document Burke puts in front of them, if it means they can settle on Earth—and to Tartarus with the rest of us.” He paused. “I have some experience—before the Fleet—with making problems like this vanish. I won’t . . . unless you ask me.”

Saul sucked in his breath, and he looked at Bill Adama, and Bill looked at him. And both of them knew the other was seriously thinking about the offer.

“I think,” Adama said, “we might be able to handle this without arranging an . . . accident. A fatal accident, I presume, Mister Zarek. But you were right to bring this to my attention—and I will not forget it.”

Zarek sighed and he stood. “My offer stands. I was in prison as a political captive, Admiral, but I have gotten my hands dirty before for what I believe in. And if you need me, I have no qualms whatsoever about making Carter J. Burke vanish from the face of universe. Good night,” he said, and then he turned to go as Adama and Tigh stood.

“Mister Zarek,” Adama’s voice stopped him and he turned around. To see the hand that Adama was extending towards him. He drew in a breath and he took it, and they shook.