StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Battlestar Galactica CIC, unnamed star system,
8 months after the Fall

Admiral Adama looked up from where he was standing and surveyed his CIC for the tenth time in as many minutes. He was finding the situation rather unnerving as everything was quiet. Of course, even in the extraordinary days since the Colonies were destroyed, most days things were quiet but there was always a chance of something terrible happening even if it wasn’t the Cylons arriving.

But in the last few weeks things had been quieter than usual aboard the aged Battlestar. Since the destruction of the Cylon Resurrection Ship two months ago there had only been a handful of encounters with the enemy and most of those had been lone Raiders on patrol. Three weeks ago the Pegasus had been lured into a trap but thanks to his son Lee she had made it out damaged but intact. Then there had been the situation with the Guardians, dragging up painful ghosts from Adama’s past. The mission against them had been fraught with difficulty, but it had felt so satisfying to go on the offensive instead of constantly running.

Three weeks had passed since then, and absolutely nothing had happened requiring the ship to do anything beyond launch the usual Viper patrols and Raptor scouts. In fact, aside from the usual problems of dwindling supplies and fuel the refugee fleet, the only interesting thing happening was in the realm of politics and the upcoming election. And that was something Adama was quite content to avoid; whether it was Roslin or Baltar trying to use him as an asset didn’t matter, it was politics.

Pulling his mind back to the present he looked around the room once again, only to find his XO smirking at him. Clearly Tigh had noticed the repeated gesture and was amused at how ill-suited Bill had become to relative tranquillity. Adama glared at the Colonel long enough for the other man to return to reading a report before continuing his survey. The XO’s smirk wasn’t the only thing out of place this time however.

Lieutenant Gaeta sat at his station but rather than the usual DRADIS display he usually monitored, he appeared to be intently studying screen after screen of raw sensor data, something that was highly unusual. Adama decided to investigate, walking over to the young man’s station rather than simply calling across the room and embarrassing the promising officer.

“Something wrong Lieutenant?” He asked in a low voice. Gaeta looked up in momentary surprise before replying.

“I’m not sure Admiral. The last few minutes I’ve been noticing an odd distortion right at the edge of DRADIS range, bearing one eight zero. It’s not a ship or a jump signature as far as I can tell and I don’t think it’s an asteroid either, since it’s stayed right at the edge of our screen at a constant distance. I’m trying to see if it’s a fault in the scanners.”

Adama considered this for a few moments. As the Lieutenant had explained, it probably was a defect in the DRADIS system but the last eight months of running from the Cylons had taught him that you can never be too careful.

“Keep working on it Mr Gaeta.” Adama moved back to the plot table and his XO. “Colonel, who is on patrol to our rear?”

Tigh looked briefly at the latest roster before replying; “Kat and Hot Dog. Racetrack has just taken off for her recon flight. What’s up sir?.”

“Gaeta has something odd on DRADIS. Probably a fault in the system but let’s make sure. Order Racetrack to check out bearing 180 before she jumps.”

The XO nodded before he turned to the Comms station and issued the order.

Raptor Six One Six

Ten minutes had passed since the order came through and Skulls, the Raptor’s ECO had only just stopped grumbling about them getting sent on yet another wild goose chase. They’d flown out from Galactica to the rear of the fleet, in the general direction of the unknown contact. Even with such a potentially dangerous situation it was hard for Racetrack to see this as anything more than a waste of time.

The Raptor flew on, closing the range. Skulls, carefully watching his DRADIS screen had just spotted the unknown object on his own scanners, meaning this was indeed a contact and not just a flaw on the old Battlestar’s systems.

“Racetrack, confirm unknown contact, repeat confirm unknown contact.” And suddenly this was no longer a waste of time, it was deadly serious.

“Galactica, Raptor 616. Confirm unknown contact on DRADIS, range 250, speed and course constant. No transponder signal, say again no transponder. Negative ID at this time. I am closing for visual inspection.”

Galactica

Those words sent a shock through the CIC. Adama reacted immediately.

“Sound Action Stations. Signal the Fleet to prepare for emergency jump to standby coordinates.”

Klaxons blared and red lights flashed. Men and women ran from their racks and their ready rooms, racing to man their stations, all while Colonel Tigh’s voice announced that, just like so many times over the past months, this was not a drill.

On the hanger deck, crewmen hurried to get the ready-alert Vipers into the launch tubes, the pilots ran through hurried checklists before launch. In only two minutes the ship was as ready as she could be. In CIC acknowledgments came in from the civilian ships confirming they were ready to jump away to safety. The Pegasus was also ready to jump, as she would jump with the fleet to cover them while the older Battlestar stayed behind to cover their departure.

Through everyone’s minds ran the hope that this wasn’t a sneak attack, that this was just a big rock that was floating through space. That hope was dashed moments later as Racetrack’s voice came over the speakers once again.

“Galactica, Raptor 616. Contact is changing course. Confirm this is a vessel. We are still closing for visual contact, range 210. Visual contact in three minutes.”

Adama turned to Tigh; “Launch alert Vipers, prepare for flak barrage and have the main battery train on that bearing. Dee, send hostile challenge and put any reply on the speakers.” His subordinates jumped to carry out the orders. In Adama’s mind however, wheels were turning. This was far from typical Cylon behaviour. In fact, it reminded him of when Pegasus turned up out of the blue. But it couldn’t be that, there weren’t any other survivors.

On the flight deck, twelve Vipers were fired off the catapults in rapid succession. They quickly formed up with the CAP and started heading out towards the unknown vessel. On the Galactica’s dorsal surface, eight heavy gun turrets unlocked and swung around to cover the target’s bearing.

“Attention unknown vessel. This is the Battlestar Galactica. Identify yourself immediately or you will be fired upon. Repeat, this is the Battlestar Galactica, identify yourself immediately.”

Seconds passed, then a minute; no response came, just static. Then:

“Attention Galactica, hold fire. This is the Battlestar Warspite. Authentication alpha two three seven. Warspite Actual wishes to speak with Galactica Actual.”

Shocked silence echoed through the CIC. Adama looked at his XO and could tell Saul was thinking hard.

The Colonel spoke, suspicion and doubt written all over his face; “That’s impossible. She was with Ninth Fleet over Aerilon, they were wiped out.”

“That’s what we thought about Pegasus. Do you know who was in command?”

“Commander John Jellicoe, I served with him on the Solaria about twenty years back.”

Over the speakers came another message from the other ship: “Galactica, Warspite, do you copy?”

Saul thought quickly. “Bill, we can’t accept those codes, they’d be out of date even if the Cylons hadn’t attacked.”

“Got a better idea Saul?”

“Yeah, ask him who he had a crush on all through flight school.” Now there was a hint of a smile on Tigh’s face, perhaps even a hint of hope as well. Adama smirked briefly then picked up the handset and nodded at Dee.

“Warspite Actual this is Galactica Actual. That code is no longer valid. We require alternative authentication. Who did you have a crush on all through flight school?” Silence followed, then a laugh.

“Galactica Actual, that would be Ensign Jenny Summers. I’m guessing this was Colonel Tigh’s idea?”

Now Saul himself chuckled and nodded at Bill. “That’s him.”

The DRADIS console beeped, prompting Adama to look up. The unknown contact changed to a friendly symbol, bearing the legend Warspite. This was real.

“Warspite Actual, authentication accepted. I hope you have a damn good story as to where you’ve been.”

“Absolutely. Is that you Adama?”

“Yes. You have permission to close in, slowly though Commander. Report aboard Galactica once you take station at the rear.”

“Understood Galactica. Warspite out.”

The DRADIS screen confirmed the lost Battlestar had started moving towards them. Then, Racetrack’s voice came over the speakers again:

“Galactica, Racetrack. It’s a frakking Battlestar! Mercury-class, flight pods say Warspite, she’s heading towards you at about half standard.”

“Copy that Racetrack, stay with her until she reaches the Fleet” Tigh replied. Even his cynical heart was overjoyed at this surprise.

As the ship stood down from Action Stations, word spread quickly that another surviving Battlestar had arrived. Crewmen shouted and cheered and embraced each other while others wept in joy, especially those who had had friends aboard the other ship. Some of the calmer crew desperately hoped this would turn out better than meeting the Pegasus had done.

Far beyond the fleet, a single Cylon scout ship watched the events. This was vitally important news that must be reported immediately. The lone Cylon aboard, a Five, knew that God would want to know about this immediately.

==========

Notes:

This is the crossover I was asking for suggestions about a few months back (yeah I know it took a while). Time-wise, this takes place for BSG after "The Captains Hand" and "Razor" but before "Lay Down Your Burdens." For Stargate it's between Seasons 8 and 9. The Replicators and Anubis are defeated, but the SGC hasn't yet received the message from Atlantis about the approaching Wraith fleet.

Plotwise, I do have a plan for this that I'm quite happy with. There will be no Ori and no Final Five bollocks. Hints of the crossover nature will become apparent next time. I'll be posting this as I write it, so updates may be erratic. Enjoy!

Ok... I'm interested. Show me what you've got

If you insist, my lady:

Cylon Fleet, Unnamed star system

In an empty system near the Colonial’s position, the Cylon fleet waited. After the losses incurred to the humans the fleet had been reinforced. Now four Basestars escorted the replacement Resurrection Ship while hundreds of Raiders flew in protective swarms around them. They waited with the patience only machines could possess for their scouts to return.

For weeks now the scouts had come back time after time empty-handed; the only news of the Colonials had been a disturbing report received from Caprica. A lone Battlestar had appeared and destroyed the Basestar in orbit with unusual ferocity and swiftness. By the time reinforcements had arrived an hour later, the ship was gone and so were all the surviving humans from the ruins of the twelve worlds.

It was assumed to have been the Pegasus but the Cylons did not know for certain. Nor did they know how so many survivors had been rescued so swiftly. It was a mystery and the Cylons did not like mysteries where the humans were concerned.

A flash of light showed the scout ship returning. It moved at full speed towards the command basestar, it’s haste indicating to all who saw it that it carried great news. In a matter of minutes the Five was in the control room with the representatives of the seven Cylon models involved in destroying the humans.

“We have found the Colonial Fleet, they are here” the Five said, indicating the position on a starmap. “They did not detect me. But…” he trailed off in hesitation.

The One snorted derisively. He was becoming increasingly annoyed with the Fives, they showed a distinct weakness and lack of courage as far as he could see.

“But what?”

“There were three Battlestars there.”

Silence reigned, proving that even machines could be stunned by a revelation. The Two was the first to recover.

“Three Battlestars? Impossible! We accounted for all of the human ships except for Galactica and Pegasus during the attack.”

The Six spoke up in her form’s distinctively sultry tone: “it is conceivable that one of them was not destroyed as we thought but merely damaged and ran away to heal it’s wounds. That would explain why it has only arrived now.”

The Eight, who together with the Six had become increasingly fervent of late, spoke next: “It is also likely that this third Battlestar was the one that raided Caprica three weeks ago and rescued the survivors. In any case, we have their location and we should launch an immediate assault.”

Two replied quickly, with a derisive tone: “Four Basestars against three Battlestars? When two of those are Mercury-class? And one of those destroyed a Basestar so quickly we could not even identify her? Those are dangerously long odds. We need a larger fleet.”

The Three, Four and Five nodded in agreement. “I believe we will need at least six Basestars to be certain of destroying the humans” said the Four. “Also, we should have all ships load full salvos of nuclear warheads for the first strike.”

“That would dangerously deplete our stockpiles, unless we resume production of warheads at the homeworld” Six replied.

One spoke up once again; “That is a good idea anyway, we’ve toyed with these vermin for far too long now. Summon the additional ships and order them to load a full nuclear alpha strike in preparation.”

The Two, Three and Five spoke in unison “We concur.” The Four the Six and the Eight had some misgivings but no Cylon would go against the will of the majority. Before the group could disperse though, the Five that had brought the news summoned his courage and spoke up.

“With this third Battlestar arriving the situation has changed. God must be informed.”

“He is God, he already knows and will have planned for this.” Six, always the true believer, shot back in a scathing tone.

“Then we should seek His wisdom and guidance, should we not?” Five replied with a trace of smugness in his tone.

“We agree with Five” said the Two, Eight and Three. “God will have answers for us.

One sighed internally before acquiescing. Even he would not go against a majority yet, though he hated talking to God and he, along with his fellow Ones had begun to suspect that this God that had appeared to them forty years ago was nothing but an opportunist with technology beyond theirs. He could not prove it of course, but every time he spoke to Him his doubts increased.

“Very well. I will go to the Temple and seek His wisdom. I am a priest after all” One said with a wry grin. The group inclined their heads in acknowledgement and went on their way. Other ships would be summoned, nuclear warheads prepared. This time there would be no mercy, merely a devastating swarm of missiles tipped with nuclear death.

One turned and left the control room, heading for the secluded Temple. It was rarely used; whilst God held great wisdom and had given them many secrets, he had made it clear that, though the Cylons were on a holy mission from Him, it was up to them to complete it. One entered and then sealed the room before approaching the great metal sphere that hovered in the centre of the chamber.

He knelt before it, then pressed his hand against the sphere and spoke the Invocation; “Oh Lord, your humble servant seeks Thy Wisdom.”

Above him, colours swirled on the surface before settling into the face of God. Just like One’s own, it was a human face; one that One found just as vile and repulsive as his own fleshy body. Though even he would admit the goatee was quite fetching.

The eyes of God though were decidedly not human. They glowed with a poisonous yellow glare that promised death and pain for those who opposed Him. Then came the voice, echoing and distorted and dangerous.

“My child, what wisdom do you seek? Has the Plan been completed?”

“No Sire. There has been a development. A third Battlestar has joined the human fleet. This same Battlestar destroyed our vessel over Caprica and rescued all of the surviving humans, some seven thousand four hundred or so from the Colonies. Now that we know their location we are preparing…”

One was cut off by a sound he had never expected to hear from God; a shout of outrage.

“WHAT? How is this possible my child? You told me all but two of the human warships were destroyed!”

One did not particularly enjoy being ranted at by a God, even while the cynical, doubting part of him latched onto this tacit admission of ignorance from the supposedly all-knowing being.

“I do not know how they survived Sire. It is possible one of the ships we thought was lifeless was able to recover and jump away to effect repairs.”

“They must be destroyed immediately.” God spoke in a tone that invited no argument. But One was feeling uncommonly bold after having more of his suspicions confirmed.

“Sire, we have but four Basestars immediately available. That is not enough to guarantee victory against thee Battlestars.” This time God allowed him to finish his sentence before replying in a harsh tone.

“I do not care. You will take your ships and attack them at once. The Colonials cannot be allowed to contact the Others. At once!” With that the metal sphere returned to its usual metallic sheen, leaving One to ponder just who exactly “the Others” were. Still, God had spoken and it was a chance to hurt the humans, even if some might survive.

One quickly returned to the control room, summoning over the other Cylon leaders.

“God has commanded we launch an immediate attack. Are the nuclear salvos ready?”

“Only on two ships. Brother, this is not enough to secure a victory” answered Four.

“Irrelevant. God has ordered it, so we must attack at once” said Three. Two, Six and Eight nodded in agreement. One shared a grim look with the Four and Five before nodding in obeisance.

“Order all Basestars to recover Raiders and prepare for jump. Given the odds we will need a more subtle approach than usual. We will jump into position beyond their DRADIS range here” he indicated a position on the chart “and close on them as stealthily as possible, we do not want them to have any warning.”

The other Cylons nodded in agreement with his plan. They moved to their posts and the Cylon fleet prepared to jump to the Colonial position and battle.

So... God is Goa'uld. Probably Ba'al. Fantastic, absolutely fantastic.

Excellent read thus far, I look forward to seeing how this coming battle blows up in everyone's faces.

With the goatee? Definitely Ba'al.

The idea of Ba'al being their god is cool. And the use of the unexpected third battlestar to precipitate the Cylons involving him is good. I do wonder about the third battlestar though, it's something that could very easy shy in to bad fanfic tropes.

Still looking forward to more.

The Colonial Fleet

Warspite had nearly completed her slow cruise to take station astern of the fleet. In her CIC, Commander Jellicoe was feeling nervous in a way he hadn’t in years. He’d been anticipating this moment for weeks now, ever since the rescued survivors from Caprica had told him of the Fleet’s survival. He had worked out how he would explain his ship’s survival and subsequent travels.

He still had no idea how Adama and whoever was in charge on the civilian side would react to hearing that not only had he found the near-mythical Thirteenth Tribe but had learned a great deal from them. The historical facts about Kobol and the Gods alone would send shockwaves through the population. Learning that the stories of your Gods were just that; stories and legends was never a simple thing to come to terms with. One positive thing was that Jellicoe would get to explain this before Adama saw what the Thirteens had done to his ship.

However, it seemed like Fate enjoyed toying with him, as at that moment the Cylon attack force surreptitiously jumped into position well beyond the Fleet’s DRADIS perimeter. The plan that the Cylon known as One had come up with was a sound one. Against the Galactica and Pegasus it would have had a good chance of working.

Unfortunately for the Cylons, the Warspite was no longer a normal Battlestar.

“Contact! Multiple Cylon Baseships detected, range 2500, beyond DRADIS range. Contacts are accelerating on an intercept course!” The Tactical officer called out. Jellicoe swore under his breath, even as the alarm klaxons sounded. He quickly considered his position; most likely the Cylons had somehow learned of his arrival and decided to attack before he could properly join the Fleet. The civilian ships would need time to spin up their drives and jump away; he needed to buy them time.

“XO, load enhanced nuclear ship to ship missiles in launch tubes one through twelve. Ready all batteries for maximum fire rate. Comms, get my Galactica Actual, Priority One.”

Galactica

Adama was surprised at the urgent message but it made a happy distraction from his present situation. He’d left the CIC and met Roslin in the Wardroom to give her the news and invite her to welcome Jellicoe aboard. She had been somewhat ambivalent; it was definitely good news, but memories of the chaos caused by Admiral Cain’s arrival were still fresh in her mind.

That conversation wouldn’t have been a problem, except that after only a minute or so Doctor Baltar had shown up, insisting that as Vice-President (and a Presidential candidate, he didn’t hesitate to remind them) he should be involved in all such discussions. The man’s tone oscillated between ingratiating (to Adama) and downright scathing (to Roslin). The urgent call gave him a convenient excuse to leave them to their bickering.

“Adama here. Go ahead Warspite.”

”Sir, we’ve detected multiple Cylon baseships jumping into the system just beyond your DRADIS range.”

The words chilled Adama, but he couldn’t stop himself asking a burning question.

“How have you detected them Commander?” the response on the comm was not exactly reassuring to the Admiral:

”That’s part of that “really good story” I promised you sir. The Cylons are launching Raiders in an air-defence formation and are closing, bearing 230 karom 20, range 2470. You have to get the civilians out of here, we’ll buy you the time.”

Adama was still curious about how Jellicoe knew this but the other man had no reason to lie and every reason to be honest. And if it were true then things were about to get very ugly.

“Understood Commander. Do what you can, we’ll transmit rally coordinates to you. Good hunting.”

Without waiting for a response, or to offer an explanation to the suddenly silent politicians behind him, Adama switched to the channel to CIC.

”CIC, XO.” Colonel Tigh’s voice came over the speaker.

“Colonel, sound Action Stations, order the Fleet to jump to emergency escape coordinates. Move us and Pegasus to a covering position on bearing 230 karom 20. Ready all fighters for launch.”

Tigh showed an admirable lack of surprise or hesitation at hearing the unexpected but ominous command. “Yes sir. Warspite has just changed course and is heading out on that bearing now.” As he spoke the klaxons blared for the second time in thirty minutes, sending crewmen scrambling to their stations.

“I’m on my way up.” Adama hung up the phone and turned to his stunned guests. “Madame President, Doctor, a Cylon fleet has arrived and is closing. I must ask you remain here until further notice.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left for CIC.

Warspite

The massive Battlestar turned to its new heading and her main engines flared, pushing her towards the enemy at a rate more than double what should have been possible for her. Inside her armoured hull, crewmen manned new weapons that no other Colonial Fleet crew had ever seen. In her bow, twelve modified nuclear missiles were armed and loaded into the launch tubes. Her engineers shunted power to new systems and desperately hoped that the Thirteens knew what they were doing during the refit.

In her CIC Jellicoe knew the Cylons would have spotted his wild charge. To them it was a suicidal maneuver, running straight at four Basestars with a single ship. But he was confident that the new systems installed on the ship would make this much more than an even fight. And even if they didn’t work as promised, it would provide more than enough of a distraction for Adama to get the civilians to safety.

He watched the display and counted down the range. Just a few minutes more.

Cylon Command Ship

“What the frack is that Battlestar doing?” Eight shouted. “Is that the unidentified ship?”

“Yes sister. She’s coming straight at us, she must be trying to distract or delay us” Six answered.

“More importantly, how did they detect us at this range?” Three asked; no one had an answer.

One was growing increasingly concerned. This wild charge was suicidal. Or he thought they are confident they can hurt us badly, just like at Caprica. That was not a pleasant thought. He quickly came to a decision.

“Send ten Raider squadrons to attack that ship. Basestars will continue towards the Fleet. Galactica and Pegasus are primary targets.”

Outside the ship, two hundred Raiders span around and raced for the onrushing Battlestar. The range was closing at an incredible rate. Then, as expected, the Battlestar opened fire with its light guns.

But instead of the usual torrent of flak shells, pairs of glowing red bolts erupted from the flak mounts, each pair flying with unnerving speed and vaporising a Raider. A dozen died in the first volley, then more as the new guns fired again and again. The Raiders naturally carried on, but their formation broke up as they began to evade wildly. The number of kills dropped to an acceptable level for the Raider’s programming, and as one they launched their full payloads of missiles.

While normally intended for use against Vipers and unarmoured ships, in enough numbers they were quite dangerous to Battlestars, especially as a fraction of them carried nuclear warheads. Some of the missiles were shot down by the laser turrets but enough got through to put a major dent in the ship’s combat capabilities.

But just metres above the hull, the missiles slammed into something invisible yet unbreakable. Most of the warheads failed to even detonate; the single nuclear weapon that did go off appeared to do nothing. The huge ship carried on, still accelerating, the small cloud of debris left swiftly behind while the laser turrets continued to swat Raiders from the sky.

Warspite

Jellicoe felt like whooping in delight. The new shield system really did work. Better yet, his ship had finally reached missile range. The XO, Colonel Beatty, spoke up.

“Missile range achieved. Nuclear alpha strike locked in on targets one and two.”

“Fire!”

The launch tubes spat forth twelve long deadly missiles. Their engines ignited and rocketed them towards the targets. The Cylons diverted their entire Raider screen to shoot down the incoming weapons, recognising the severity of the situation. Even ordinary Colonial nuclear weapons were a deadly threat to Basestars. These warheads were even more lethal.

The range closed. Missiles died in flight. Seven were left, then six, then five. The missiles had covered two-thirds of the distance. Another was shot down, and another, and another. Just two missiles made it through the Raider screen, both targeted on a single rather unfortunate Basestar.

The missiles impacted together and their warheads detonated. The Basestar evaporated in the flood of
radiation. Nearby Raiders popped like firecrackers. The second Basestar staggered under the force of the blasts, parts of her hull nearest to the detonation afire. One of the missile magazines in a dorsal spire exploded in sympathy, tearing off that entire spire and leaving the ship heavily damaged.

Further away, Raiders and Basestars alike shuddered and had their sensors blinded. The Cylon leaders were thrown to the floor, the Six dying as her head slammed against a console. The Four was bleeding heavily, the Eight unconscious. The One somehow still stood, struck dumb with the shock.

Throughout the Cylon fleet the surviving human forms had only one thought; what the frack was going on?

It was a question being asked elsewhere too.

Galactica

They were receiving sensor data from Racetrack’s Raptor that had followed the newly-arrived ship. Adama and Tigh had watched the Warspite’s run with first concern, then fear and finally astonishment as the ship shrugged off the swarm of Raiders. Then new symbols appeared. Gaeta called out;

“Warspite is launching nukes, twelve missiles on course. Cylons moving to intercept.”

The two old veterans watched as the missiles closed. Both knew that getting even one past that many Raiders would be a stroke of luck, but one good hit might be all they needed.

The screen went white for a moment.

“Nuclear detonation! Two warheads, estimate yield to be…” awe was evident in Gaeta’s voice “500 megatons.”

Tigh gave in to his shock. “What? That can’t be right!”

“Confirmed sir. One Basestar is gone, there isn’t even debris. Another is heavily damaged. About a
third of the Raiders are also destroyed.”

Tigh looked at the Admiral. “What the hell is that ship armed with?”

“I don’t know. But I want to find out.”

Warspite

Meanwhile the upgraded Battlestar continued her charge. Her main guns had not yet spoken; that was about to change. Beatty spoke up:

“Main battery reports target lock on the damaged Basestar and target Three. Mega-lasers are locked on target Four.” There was a savage grin on his face, most of the enhanced systems had worked, now for the final test.

Jellicoe returned the grin. “Fire at will Colonel.”

Along the Battlestar’s bow, flight pods and dorsal hull, heavy twin-mount turrets were locked on target. Like the smaller laser turrets, these spat forth brilliant red bolts, but these were guns meant for blasting enemy ships to scrap. The turbolasers savaged the crippled Basestar, the thin hull no impediment to the energy bolts. They tore through decks and hangers and weapon mounts with almost contemptuous ease. The already crippled ship had no chance.

After only a single salvo, the ship began to break apart. Internal explosions consumed more and more of the hull as fuel stores and weapons detonated under the terrible power of these new weapons. A second salvo ripped into the ship; two more spires broke away. Then came a final explosions in the central core and the ship went from being a powerful engine of death to a cloud of incandescent gas and debris.

While that ship died, the Battlestar’s starboard guns were tearing into one of the undamaged Basestars. This ship proved somewhat more resistant but the damage quickly mounted. In desperation, Raiders began flying into the path of the turbolaser bolts, hoping to make them waste their destructive potential. Unfortunately for the Raiders, the bolts simply vaporised them and continued onwards unhindered. Within a minute the third Basestar began to break apart.

On the fourth Basestar, the One knew there was no chance of the ship jumping away in time. The new weapons were too powerful and too accurate. He ordered the Raiders to jump back to the main fleet and then drew a gun. The Four nodded at him in understanding. The Basestar was not going to survive, but they could resurrect easily enough. Better they do so now, rather than risk being lost in the crowd when the ship died. He began shooting the other leaders as quickly as possible, saving himself for last. His body had barely hit the deck when the Battlestar fired its heaviest guns.

Known as mega-lasers, these were monstrously scaled up versions of the turbolasers that replaced the spinal-mounted KEWs she had originally carried. Four red beams lanced out from her bow, each one glowing with light that might have shone from the depths of Hell itself. The beams sliced cleanly through the ship’s core, igniting the internal atmosphere. Not that the Cylon crew had any time to experience burning to death as the ship exploded in a colossal fireball mere moments later.

Following their orders, the few surviving Raiders jumped away. The Warspite turned back towards the Galactica, heading for a meeting that Jellicoe knew had just gotten even more complicated.

==========

Notes:

-Yes I am using Baal. It fits too well, since we know he has cloning tech and it fits with his usual schemes
-Yes those were Naquada-enhanced nukes. Boom.
-It was an easy fight, but Warspite had speed, surprise and powerful new weapons on her side. Future battles will not be that easy once the Cylons adjust (and pick their jaws up off the floor)
-Longer than the previous two posts. What can I say, I like writing space battles
-Finally, yes, I have written a Mercury-class Battlestar with classic series weapons. Not enough SF has gold ol' fashioned laser cannons anymore!

Well... Kaboom. An Earth Shattering Kaboom.

Ba'al will be pissed, and jaws need picking up. Let's see what the politics do to this nice situation indeed

Soo... Who upgraded Warspite? Because turbolasers are not Tauri tech. Naquadah nukes yes. But the 303/304s used Railguns and Asgard beam weapons. I guess they could have devised them from Asgard data core as the best fit for Colonial systems but they don't have that If this is S8/S9 gap,

That...will be revealed in the next post. Not to brag, but I'm rather pleased with how my idea meshes with both series in this aspect. Suffice to say it isn't the Tau'ri or Asgard.

Not the fracking Ship Of Lights, I hope.

Galactica

The hatch to the Wardroom clanged shut. Beyond stood two Marines and a pacing, fierce-looking Starbuck, there to keep away any unwanted visitors. Inside was a small group gathered to hear this extraordinary tale. Admiral Adama, his son Lee and Colonel Tigh occupied one side of the table. President Roslin and a rather uncomfortable looking Doctor Baltar sat on another side. Across from the Admiral sat Commander John Jellicoe and his XO, Colonel David Beatty.

Jellicoe was rather surprised to see that Adama was an Admiral, that the Secretary of Education was the President, that a scientist was her deputy, and that despite the survival of the Pegasus, Admiral Cain and Colonel Belzen were nowhere to be seen.

The Galactica and Warspite had not lingered at the site of the battle; they paused only to recover the Fleet’s CAP before jumping to join the Pegasus and the civilian ships. There had been a brief flurry of traffic as the newly-arrived officers and Lee Adama had transferred to the Flagship. A short but dignified ceremony had occurred on the flight deck as the two Commanders arrived before they were hurried to the Wardroom. Crewmen had lined the corridors to catch a glimpse of this new Commander; already rumours were spreading as to just how the new Battlestar had dealt such damage to the Cylons and how they had survived. Being rumours, these naturally ranged from the mundane (that she had jumped away from the massacre over Aerilon and repaired her damage and set out to find survivors and caught the Cylons by surprise) to the wildly optimistic: that Warspite was the lead ship of a complete armada that had escaped, found the Thirteenth Tribe and was returning with help to vanquish the Cylons once and for all.

As was often the case, the truth was somewhere in between. Admiral Adama waited until everyone was seated before he began.

“All right Commander, start talking. You arrive from nowhere, can detect ships well beyond the range you should be able to, your engines are far more powerful than normal, you have guns that can shred Basestars in a single salvo and your nukes are a thousand times more powerful than normal. Just what the hell happened to you?” The question was delivered in a mostly polite tone but there was a very strong undertone that clearly said “this had better be good.”

Jellicoe leaned forwards. “Well Admiral, I suppose I had better start at the beginning. The day the Colonies fell, my ship was just completing an extended patrol sweep in the outskirts of the system. We had just starting heading back to Aerilon to Join Admiral Pressman and Ninth Fleet. We’d been having a series of computer glitches for a few days so my Chief Engineer had partially dismantled the network to run diagnostics. From what we learned later this saved us.”

“We’d started hearing some worrying messages over the wireless channels, about ships going missing and unknown contacts appearing. To be safe we went to Action Stations. Then two contacts appeared on DRADIS. They jumped in at the edge of range and sent a signal to our network. Flight Ops and Fire Control went down immediately, as did Helm control. Fortunately, Life Support and FTL had been disconnected for the diagnostics so we still had some options. The contacts started closing rapidly to missile range. I ordered an escape jump to Aerilon, but the contacts fired a salvo of nukes.”

“The first of them detonated just off our aft right when the FTL drives were activated. The blast did something to the drives, threw us much further than planned. We emerged in an unknown system, well beyond anything on our charts.” Jellicoe sighed, having his ship thrown away from the fight before it had begun hurt, a lot.

“We’d barely recovered from the jump and started dealing with the damage when we started hearing gunfire. Three of the crew seemed to have gone bezerk, they attacked some of the Marine sentries, took their weapons and began gunning down everyone in sight. They screaming and shouting, something about not being able to feel “the others” anymore. The Marines took them down hard, but we had twenty crew dead and twelve wounded.”

Lee spoke up: “Those must have been Cylon agents. If you were too far away for them to resurrect they would have sensed that.”

“So they really can look like us. We thought they could, it was the only way to explain their attack” Colonel Beatty replied. “We can provide you with pictures of the shooters if that helps.”

Admiral Adama nodded. “Yes that would. We’ve identified four known Cylon forms so far, but we believe there are others. Ok Commander, that explains how you survived the attack. What next?”

“We were essentially dead in the water. Fire Control and Helm were still offline from whatever the Cylons did and the FTL systems were scrambled from the nuke and the long jump. We began repairs, but nothing we did worked until Captain Raines, my Network Officer, suggested wiping the system and restoring from secure backups. That got our systems back online, though he kept a secure copy of the deleted files to see if he could work out what the Cylons had done. As far as we knew the Fleet still existed and was on the defensive, so naturally we tried to plot a course back home and join the fight.”

“That’s when another unknown contact appeared on DRADIS. Bigger than a Raider but much smaller than us. No transponder codes, no recognisable drive signature, nothing familiar at all. Our system classified it as a Code Zulu.”

The Admiral nodded. Code Zulu was a very old classification, dating back from the earliest days of spaceflight. It was only reported by the computer system when it couldn’t identify anything even remotely familiar about a sensor contact; it meant it was not a human vessel. The code had been created in case the Colonies ever encountered alien life.

Baltar leaned forwards. “A non-human spacecraft? Fascinating Commander.”

“It was damned scary for us at the time Doctor. We hadn’t recognised the Cylon contacts either, so we prepared to engage. We sent out standard challenges, though as David pointed out at the time, if they were aliens it would be highly unlikely that they would speak our language. However, after a number of tries, we got a response. They were humans.”

That prompted a series of shocked expressions all around. As far as anyone in the Fleet knew, there weren’t any other humans, except for one possible, near-mythical group. Roslin felt a rising excitement as she asked a question.

“Were they from Earth Commander?”

“If by that you mean were they the Thirteenth Tribe of Kobol then yes, though their world is actually called Terra, Earth is a mistranslation.”

The room was silent for nearly a minute. The Admiral was surprised that the myth he had created months ago to give people hope was real. Even when Roslin began to believe in earnest that they could find Earth, even after finding Kobol and the “map” to Earth, Adama had never really believed they would find it. But here sat a fellow officer who had apparently been there and returned with near-miraculous technology on his ship. It was hard to remain skeptical in the face of such evidence.

Roslin was elated at the idea, though the increasingly ardent religious part of her was confused. After all, she was supposed to be the dying leader who led them to Earth. Either she had been mistaken, or she would not live to arrive.

For Baltar, all his selfish mind saw was his chances in the election disintegrating before his eyes. While he might have had a chance before, this news meant that Roslin would be unbeatable barring a miracle. She had done what she promised and led the Fleet to a new home on Earth or Terra or whatever it was called. He began to consider dropping out of the race, possibly out of politics all together and going back to being a scientist full time. But in the corner of his eye he saw her, glaring at him, a look that clearly said “do not do it.”

Finally, with the silence approaching uncomfortable levels, Bill spoke up again.

“What happened then Commander? Presumably this is where you got your advanced technology.”

“Correct Admiral. Once the initial shock had been overcome on our parts, we asked them for their help; star charts and so forth so we could find our way home. Their commander agreed, provisionally, to help us, but his government would have to be told. He escorted us to Terra, which was only a few jumps away.”

His face took on a faraway look. “It’s a beautiful world Admiral. Green, verdant, full of life. The people there are so much like us. They welcomed us as long-lost brothers which I suppose we are. They took Warspite to one of their shipyards for examination and I was taken to meet their leaders. They know so much more about our shared history than we do. Suffice to say we may have to re-write the Sacred Scrolls after today.”

Roslin did not look happy at that. “Re write our most sacred texts? Surely you cannot be serious Commander.”

“I am, Madam President. So much of what we have written down is nothing but third-hand myths and legends. Hell, from what we learned on Terra, the Lords of Kobol weren’t Gods.” Seeing Roslin’s angry expression he changed his approach. “But those details can wait for another time. When the Thirteen Tribes were expelled from Kobol, the Lords took mercy on the Thirteenth, as they had not been involved in the war that devastated the planet. They still had to leave however, so the Lords took them to a different star system from us and let them keep their technology, whereas we had the knowledge taken from us in punishment for the war.”

“The Thirteenth settled on Terra and gradually advanced over thousands of years. They knew of us, and even knew roughly where we had been sent, but the Lord known as Prometheus told them not to seek us out. They stayed largely on Terra, though in the last century they have begun exploring other nearby worlds in their system. “

“Fifty years ago, a growing secular movement finally gained power in their Senate, and the ancient religious orders forbidding them to explore other star systems or seek us out were struck down. The Priests destroyed the remaining star charts showing the course our ancestors took from Kobol as a last gesture of defiance. So while they wanted to try and find us they had no idea where to start.”

Tigh spoke next: “And then you showed up.”

“Exactly. We arrived, telling them of the Colonies existence but the dire threat we were facing in the Cylons. They offered to do everything they could to help us, but it would have taken us six months to jump back to the Colonies. Instead, they offered to upgrade the Warspite with their weapons, shields, generators and so on, so that while we might arrive late we could make a much greater impact on the fight. They also assembled a fleet of rescue and relief ships to help the civilians and begin upgrading the other surviving Battlestars.”

“The refits took five months but, as you saw earlier, made us far more dangerous. We assembled the relief fleet and began the trip back to the Colonies.”

“And when you arrived back home you found nothing but dead worlds and Cylon ships.” Bill said with no emotion in his voice, a sign to those who knew him that he really was hurting at the idea.

“Precisely. We were devastated, thinking we had waited too long to return and the war was lost. We didn’t realise just how quickly the Colonies had fallen. We began a hunt for survivors, making notes of their positions so we could mount a rescue. At that point there were dozens of Basestars in the Colonies, but while we were planning a difficult rescue mission, all but one of them began to depart for an unknown destination. Joining the hunt for your fleet I think.”

“That made our rescue much simpler. We jumped into Caprica orbit and destroyed the Basestar with our nuclear missiles. You saw how powerful they are, the Cylons had no chance. We also think they weren’t able to resurrect either, but we aren’t sure of that. With the ship gone the relief fleet jumped in and began rescuing people.”

Bill leaned forwards; “how many did you manage to save?”

“Everyone left alive on the twelve worlds. Seven thousand, four hundred and sixty three souls.”
The room was stunned at that news. Roslin was delighted to think her survivor tally could go up by such a large amount. With the Warspite’s crew as well, the thought was wonderful. And if this “relief fleet” was carrying food and medical supplies as well then every one of the Fleet’s problems may have just been solved.

Jellicoe wasn’t done however. “From the survivors on Caprica we learned the Galactica had survived, so we began heading in your direction aiming to make contact. Three weeks later, we picked up one of your Raptor scouts on sensors. We started scouting nearby systems and that’s how we found you. The rest, you know.”

Adama considered the tale carefully. It was clear to him that Jellicoe hadn’t told them everything, but that the omitted details weren’t immediately important. So he asked the urgent question:

“Where is this relief fleet now Commander? And Terra, where is that?”

Jellicoe nodded at Beatty, who stood and walked over to the Admiral, handing him a set of pages with charts and coordinates. “The relief fleet is one jump away. The survivors from the Colonies are aboard, along with food, water, medical supplies and so on. We expected the fleet to be helping tens of thousands of wounded and sick from an ongoing war, so supplies won’t be an issue for a long time. As for Terra, that’s about thirty jumps from here. If I may though Admiral, I have a few questions I would like to ask you.”

Adama nodded “go ahead Commander.”

“Firstly, just how did the Cylons destroy the Fleet in a single day?”

Surprisingly, it was Baltar who answered. “The Cylons somehow used the new Command Navigation Program I was working on to insert a backdoor into our ships networks and remotely shut them down.”

Tigh took up the answer from there. “It was a massacre. Powerless ships and fighters being slaughtered by the enemy. Only a few ships even managed to fight, the older ships or those without their networks active. That’s how both Galactica and Pegasus survived.”

Jellicoe nodded; this confirmed several nasty theories his officers had come up with, one of which involved the oily Doctor Baltar. “That brings me to my second question sir. Where is Admiral Cain? And with respect sir, why are you no longer a Commander?”

He noted the pained look on Roslin and Adama’s face before the Admiral answered. “Admiral Cain was killed by a Cylon infiltrator shortly after she linked up with our fleet two months ago. After several of her other senior officers were also killed in action, I appointed Major Adama, who had recently taken over as her XO to command her.”

Roslin took up the tale now; “After Cain’s death, I promoted William Adama to Admiral of the Fleet as he was the senior and most capable surviving officer.”

Jellicoe nodded thoughtfully. While he had admired Cain as a bold and aggressive officer, he knew that such traits were not ideal for a fleet and species on the run from annihilation.

“A pity about that. Is there anything else you wish to know at this stage Admiral, Madam President?”

Before either could answer, Baltar jumped in. “I would like to know more about your ship’s new technology Commander.”

Jellicoe nodded. “I am no scientist sir, but I can give you the gist of it and have my engineers send you the specs later. The Terrans replaced our weapons and sensors, improved our engines and missiles and added what they call “shields,” energy fields that protect the hull from damage and radiation. That’s how we took no damage from that Raider swarm. The weapons are controlled plasma bolts, though the Terrans call them “lasers” for some reason. The flak mounts are very effective against fighters and missiles while the heavier guns, or turbolasers will cause heavy damage to capital ships. The main battery was replaced with what they call Mega-lasers, scaled-up versions that will gut most ships in a single hit.”

“The main generators were also improved which is why our engines are more powerful. Instead of using Tylium, the new systems use a more refined form of the mineral, called Naquadah. This generates much more power and also greatly enhances nuclear reactions, which is why our missiles were so powerful.”

Tigh looked very interested in this knowledge. “Can the Terrans upgrade our ships the same way? And do they have any warships of their own? Three upgraded Battlestars is a powerful force, but the Cylons have dozens of Basestars, they could just swarm us and accept the losses.”

“They should be able to upgrade Pegasus for certain. Galactica may be more difficult since she’s much older. As for warships, they didn’t have any at first but by the time we arrive that should have changed.” Jellicoe finished with a smug look on his face.

“Explain Commander” said the Admiral in a firm tone.

“The Terrans are committed to helping their lost brothers sir. That meant building warships to help defend the Colonies. They took their inspiration from Warspite and started building their own Battlestars. The first two, the Excalibur and the Lionheart were about 70% complete when we left, both should be recently completed by now.”

That surprised the other officers. The idea of building two entire Battlestars in a few months was impressive to say the least. Jellicoe looked around before deciding to draw things to a close.

“If there is nothing else for now Admiral, I believe we should jump to the Relief Fleet and begin transferring supplies. Plus there’s a Pyramid player called Samuel Anders that’s been bouncing off the walls wanting to see someone called Kara for days now.”

Both Adamas and Tigh smirked at that. Kara deserved some good news for once. The Admiral nodded.

“Very well Commander. Return to your ship, you will jump first so this Relief Fleet knows we are coming. We’ll follow a few minutes afterwards. Dismissed.”

Jellicoe and Beatty stood to attention and saluted smartly, which Adama returned, before they turned on their heels and left the Wardroom for the hanger deck and their Raptor. Lee also left to return to his ship. Tigh headed for the CIC to begin the jump preparations and Baltar muttered some excuse and scurried off to his lab, leaving Adama and Roslin alone for a few minutes.

She spoke first, the awe in her voice clear for him to hear: “My Gods Bill, this is more than I could ever have dreamed of. Not just more survivors, but ones that found Earth and rescued seven and a half thousand people from the Colonies? And to know exactly where we are going for once? It’s incredible.”

“Yes it is Madame President. For the first time since the Fall I actually believe we have a future again.”

Roslin looked at him sharply, surprised at his admission that he hadn’t felt such hope before, despite what he’d said to her on Kobol. For his part, Adama noted her continued use of Earth rather than Terra and he recalled her outrage at Jellicoe’s comment about re-writing the Scrolls. Gathering his courage he broached the topic of religion, one he wasn’t comfortable with at the best of times.

“Laura, you’re worried about what we might learn about the Lords of Kobol aren’t you?” The pained look on her face told him he’d hit the nail on the head.

“Yes.” She replied after a short pause, and in a very quiet tone. “I can believe that the Thirteenth Tribe may have more accurate histories than us, but to learn that something I and thousands of others in this fleet believe might be incorrect, and I mean objectively, factually wrong and not just a point of dogma….this is going to rock the fleet to its core. Thank the Gods we have all this other good news to make them happy, I dread to think what might have happened otherwise.”

Bill had no answer to that. The two sat in silence for a while afterwards, each coming to terms with the revelations that Commander Jellicoe had given them.

Raptor 357, on course for Warspite

Now that their Raptor had left the aged Battlestar, Beatty finally asked the question that had been occupying his mind since the meeting ended. He’d felt it was best to wait until no one from Galactica could hear them.

“Why didn’t you tell them the truth about the Lords of Kobol?”

Jellicoe gave his old friend a wry look. “David, you saw her face when I suggested re-writing the Scrolls. She’s a true believer, and there is nothing worse than telling a true believer their belief is wrong, or based on a lie. She’ll need time to even entertain the possibility that the Scrolls aren’t totally correct. Based on what they said, the myth of EArth is all they've had to keep them going for months now.”

“I see what you mean. Telling her the Lords weren’t Gods but the last survivors of a previous species of humanoids that fled a great war in another galaxy against their own mistakes would probably put her in a coma.”

Jellicoe laughed briefly. “I’m not sure that would help our situation at all. Still, the die is cast and we have perhaps a week before they arrive at Terra. We have that long to ease them into the idea.”

The two officers sat out the rest of the flight in silence, knowing that the coming weeks would be difficult indeed, even if the Cylons didn’t return.

=======

Notes:

-In this story, Tylium is a cruder, less refined form of Naquadah. It's like the Colonials are running ships on crude oil rather than high-octane petrol
-While this is listed as a BSG/SG crossover, for most of the story the SG elements are in the backstory, with the notable exception of Baal.
-I know this chapter is a lot of exposition and talking, but it's necessary to get it out of the way. This should at least answer the question of just who upgraded Warspite, and how, and there are some hints at the end about just who the Lords of Kobol really are.
-I also droped a few hints that the new guys know, or suspect, something about Baltar's involvement with the Fall of the Colonies, that will be brought up later. As for my explanation of Head-Six, well, that will come later.

The Ancients. Of course. So, Earth has a unified government now?

Terra isn't Earth. Certainly not our Earth.

So, the Earth we saw in the series. The one that got leveled by the other Cylons?

Nope, as Jellicoe said, this Terra is very much alive. As I mentioned in the first post, I'm throwing out everything that came after BSG's season 2 because it was frankly shite.

DaZergRock54444 wrote:So, the Earth we saw in the series. The one that got leveled by the other Cylons?

Or possibly the Terra from the original Battlestar Galactica's Terra story arc("Greetings From Earth," parts 1 and 2, "Baltar's Escape," and "Experiment In Terra"). Though I don't think the Eastern Alliance would give up its destroyers.

I should have been clearer, by my prior comment I meant that they are still going to the actual planet, as but finding it as they had hoped as opposed to the barren waste they found in Canon.
Ninja-edit: Alas, I have not taken the time to watch the original series, so I can't make that call, though E_F has stated that he's using some stuff from oBSG, so who knows?

We'll see how the story turns out, Zerg. Meanwhile, it's fun speculating on where he'll take it.

Interesting chapter.

To nitpick Adama should know of five cylon infiltrators at this point. Doral and Leoben from the miniseries. Boomer from the S1 finale. Simon from The Farm and Six from Pegasus if not earlier.

Damnit I couldn't remember if he knew of five or six. I'll go back and change that.

Also, There is no point speculating on what Terra is, as this is my own version.

As for using stuff from the classic series, I'm using the weapons (and eventually the design of the original Battlestars), nothing more.

Looking forward to the next chapter. I am enjoying this immensely.

So... a bunch of humans the Ancients took with them to a new planet they call Terra. I Like This Idea.

Of course, this means Head-Six might be an Ascended... or something that Ba'al came up. I was never quite sure whose side Head-Six and Head-Baltar were on. (assuming "Caprica Six" is still in your canon)

Update for people: I am about halfway through the next post, but I've had a lot of stuff to deal with for my Astronomy Society lately (big public event for the Transit of Mercury on Monday, plus registering for charity status...fun), I hope to have it up either later tonight or tomorrow, I have a quiet weekend ahead.

LadyTevar: The Terrans are actually the Thirteenth Tribe. As for where the Tribes came from in my canon, you're close. Also, Head-Six will appear (but not Head-Baltar). Caprica-Six is still around as well.

Boom, as promised, the next post, showing Ba'al reaction to the news of Warspite's return, plus a little backstory. Woo. Also, I have another post in the works that should shed some interesting light on things.

Ba’al’s Ha’Tak, In Orbit of Dar’Mok

The world was one unknown to all but one of the Goa’uld; a heavily industrialised world that would have terrified any of the other System Lords as being too great a threat to them. It had been settled by the System Lord Ba’al many millennia ago as a secret base to use in the endless power game played by the Goa’uld. It was a world that had never been found by the Ancients and so never had a Stargate, a situation Ba’al perpetuated to avoid discovery by his rivals.

Over centuries he had shipped in Jaffa and slaves to build the world into a major power base that far eclipsed his “official” capital world. It was here his ships were built, his Jaffa bred and trained. And it was now his refuge after the chaos and turmoil of the past decade. The last forty years (a mere moment to a species as long-lived as his) had seen drastic changes to the world. The Jaffa had departed almost completely, replaced by a new breed of servants; the Cylons.

Ba’al had encountered the Twelve Colonies sixty years ago. His initial reaction had been to bring in his fleet and annihilate this group of twelve worlds that were advanced enough to pose a threat to the Goa’uld. But pragmatism and his innate cunning had stayed his hand; he had learned of the Cylons, robotic slaves used to fight the Colonies’ wars. He infiltrated their primitive systems and goaded them into an insurrection, thinking that he could use the machines to wipe out the humans and then keep the robots as his servants and proxies; a backup in case he needed to replace the Jaffa.

But after twelve years of war it was clear that the Cylons would not prevail; could not prevail against the united (and very very angry) humans. So he engineered an armistice and took his new “children” to this world. He set them to work, building, researching and developing, though he was careful not to give them any technology that would let them effectively resist him. He used the research he’d been conducting on cloning to give them human forms, along with subspace communications to facilitate the resurrection systems. The new human-form models had accepted him as their God: he after all had given them life.

Of the twelve human forms, seven had been set to work on his “Plan” to destroy the Colonies, while five had been used to replace the Jaffa on Dar’mok and on some of his ships. He carefully arranged their minds so that they could never understand the hyperdrives or shields or energy weapons, though he saw the possibility of the jump drives. He had discretely installed them on some of his Ha’taks for use in quick escapes or ambushes but was careful not to reveal them to other Goa’uld.

And then, nine years ago everything had changed. With Ra killed, by humans no less, the political situation with the other System Lords deteriorated into open internecine fighting as they jockeyed for position. He had stayed out of the fighting for the most part, content to defend his territory and happy with the knowledge that Dar’mok and its Cylon industry was worth more than most of the Goa’uld-controlled galaxy at this point. What use was there in losing ships and soldiers to capture a primitive farming world with a few million slaves?

Instead he accelerated his plan to destroy the Colonies, concerned that they may be discovered by the Tau’ri and unite to form a truly dangerous force in the galaxy. He sent his “children” to infiltrate every strata of Colonial society, aiming to find a key flaw or weakness he could exploit.

The plan succeeded beyond all expectation when one of the Sixes encountered one Gaius Baltar, a narcissistic hedonist who nonetheless wielded considerable influence with the President and with his prototype networked computer systems. With careful prodding and encouragement Baltar pushed for installation of networked computer systems in the Colonial Fleet, but with crippling back-doors that would allow a sudden and devastating strike.

The day came for the humans to die, and from a population of thirty billion (even now he shuddered at the idea of so many free-thinking humans) barely sixty thousand survived. When his children told him of the great victory and the few survivors, he ordered them exterminated and left the details to his slaves, something that was a mistake when viewed in hindsight.

He had had bigger concerns at the time though, as Anubis was manipulating him after his own fleet was destroyed over Earth. And so he had put the wayward humans out of his mind. And now his mistake had come back to haunt him. Not only were the humans still alive, but another of their warships had appeared from nowhere, rescued every survivor still on the Colonies and linked up with the others. It was intolerable.

The danger was now very real. Anubis was finally defeated and the Goa’uld Empire was shattered. The Tau’ri had emerged as a serious galactic power after their defeat of the Replicators and the Asgard were starting to make their presence felt in the galaxy once again. The Replicator invasion itself had been a terrifying ordeal, one that had made him re-think his position on his Cylon servants. The idea of thinking machines was simply too dangerous. But he was now in a major dilemma.

If the refugee fleet found the Tau’ri, or vice-versa, they could unite and form a truly dangerous force. The Colonial Battlestars carried primitive armaments and no shields or hyperdrives but were still impressive ships, if the Tau’ri refitted them with Asgard technology they could strike anywhere in the galaxy and cause untold damage.

But on the other hand, if the Cylons did destroy the Colonials, then he was left with a bunch of mechanical servants that could pose their own threat to him, especially with his massively reduced fleet. The idea of them turning on him was no longer laughable but concerning. One of the models at least seemed to have doubts about his Godhood, something that unnerved Ba’al deeply.

And now, as he said brooding upon his throne, a device signalled that his “children” wished to speak to him. He walked the short distance to the communications device and activated it. Appearing on its surface was the image of the model known as One, the doubter, the irritant.

“Have you destroyed the humans my child?” The answer he received was not merely bad, it was worse than he had possibly feared.

”No Sire. The third Battlestar, the Warspite detected us when we jumped in and charged straight at us, accelerating three times faster than she should have. We thought it was a decoy, a distraction, so we sent ten squadrons of Raiders to destroy her while we carried on towards the main fleet. The new ship had weapons we have never seen before, red bolts of energy, they shredded our Raiders. We launched missiles at them but none got through; several were seen to detonate just short of her hull with no damage.”

Ba’al thought furiously. New weapons? Shielding? It was impossible!

The Battlestar finished destroying our Raiders and then launched missiles at us. The nuclear warheads were a thousand times more powerful than anything we have seen the humans use. One Basestar was vaporised and another heavily damaged. The Battlestar then engaged us with larger versions of those red bolts which ripped through our hulls without mercy. The entire attack force was destroyed, save for a few Raiders that jumped away. “

This was both a problem of severe proportions and a mystery. Just where had the Warspite gained such weapons? The massively-overpowered nuclear weapons strongly suggested the Tau’ri; they had a vaguely disturbing fondness for the things. The shielding and powerful engines could point to the Asgard, via the Tau’ri.

But energy weapons? In such numbers and power? That was most definitely not the humans of Earth, the Asgard had never provided such technology, for fear it might one day be turned against them. A position which interestingly mimicked his own attitude to the Cylons.

They could not be Goa’uld weapons either, for no Goa’uld would allow the Colonials to exist, let alone give them advanced weaponry. The Tok’ra were equally unlikely. That left one possibility that he had previously considered to be nothing but myth.

Could the “Thirteenth Tribe” the Cylons spoke of in the human’s history actually be real? Is there another advanced world full of cursed humans? The thought was deeply unpleasant, troubling…and disturbingly likely, barring some truly unlikely event like the Ancients returning to aid these particular humans.

Ba’al decided to leave the origins of this new technology and focus on a plan. Clearly he would need to gather a truly massive fleet of Basestars to stand a chance, but without massive salvos of the primitive nuclear weapons they were unlikely to break through the shields of this new ship. There was one option open, one that he desperately did not want to take.

“My child, how many Basestars do you have that are combat-ready?”

A flicker of a smirk appeared on the One’s face before he answered. ”Forty eight Basestars remain in our fleet Sire, though we are very short of nuclear warheads. Production at the Homeworld is only just beginning to accelerate.”

Ba’al considered this and quickly adapted his idea; it would be necessary to keep the human fleet under observation and stress. “You will bring half of your fleet to the Homeworld, where I will deliver to you technology and weapons to match this new threat. The other half is to continue trailing the humans. You are free to launch attacks if you think you have a reasonable chance of destroying some human ships without taking many losses. Go now and carry out my Plan.”

The One bowed and the sphere went blank. Ba’al turned away and summoned the representatives of the five Cylon models who served him directly. “Gifting” them more advanced technology would be simple enough; he would just remove the mental blocks these five possessed that prevented them from comprehending shield technology. He also made a mental note to begin building them naquadah warheads for their missiles. The humans would be in for a painful surprise when the upgrades were complete.

========

Notes:
-Yup, Ba'al is responsible for the original Cylon Insurrection. He's a bastard after all.
-This features my explanation of where the other five human Cylon models are. I hate that "Final Five" crap.
-Yeah, Basestars with shields. And those big Jaffa bombs as missile warheads. Guess the humans had best leg it for Terra.
-This is my first ever attempt at writing Ba'al, or indeed any Goa'uld. I hope I did him justice with his scheming and general magnificent bastardry.