Evolutions ST/BG crossover (Old School)

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-16 11:37am

I decided to post both stories here since they are related.
This one is (what I call 'Old school') dealing with the current state of the ST universe with a Battlestar galactica crossover.

We know Cylon technology was worthless as compare to just about everybody else's-but what if something changed the equation?

"The Ruination War: Book I"
"Evolutions"

by

Albert Green Jr.

The history of the 'Ruination War'
Book One: Evolutions
A Battlestar Galactica/Star Trek:TNG, VOY, DS9 crossover
Version 3.0
November 2002

"Prologue"

"I told you this would be wonderful," Q said to his son, Q. "Nothing beats sun bathing in a sun's core. Those gamma rays really make the old nuclei tingle."

His son Q merely looked at his father. "We've done this so many times before," he replied. "It gets boring after a while. I don't understand why you find this so relaxing. It's not like it's different each time," he complained.

Q looked at his son and smiled that whimsical smile he was making more and more often. It was just like the young to complain about being bored he thought. Like him, Q had extended his non-corporeal being to circle the star itself. Waves of solar radiation ensuing from that sun caressed them both as harmlessly as a mother would hold her newborn child.

Radiation, fire, heat, energy meant nothing to beings such as them. They were Q and the Q were power personified. They could do anything they wished. To them the past, present, or alternate futures were merely concepts to play with. They understood everything. They knew everything-except how to raise one obnoxious, spoiled baby, with the powers of the Q. Now that was beyond them.

"Of course it's different each time," his father countered. "Each star has its own ambience. But you're young. You won't be able to fully appreciate this concept for another thousand years or so."

"Then why is it that Amanda can't tell the difference? She's older than I."

"Amanda isn't even thirty yet," Q said using Earth years as his reference point. "Besides she's a not a real Q, not in the since you are." But even as he said it he realized that what he'd said wasn't strictly true. She was born of Q parents and even though she was emotionally bonded to her human form, she retained all the powers of the Q. The problem was that she had been around humans too long. Even now she still thought like them. But there was something about her that reminded him of his son and it had taken him some time to understand the truth behind it.

The future for those two would be...interesting. He wondered if anyone else in the Q continuum understood the possibilities for them all in the future. She was young, just like his son. But Amanda was stable, maturing both as an adult and a Q equally. And they were both equal, just different.

His son however was something else. Maturity? Hah! Not yet.

Thank Q for Kate!

"Trelane said he couldn't tell the difference from one star to another either and he's been around for a couples of centuries," Q retorted.

"Stay away from him," Q yelled, his form slowly condensing to his preferred humanoid form. He was still transparent but his energy patterns could be clearly defined by his son. "He's a bad influence on you. I don't want you on his side of the block. Trelane's people are almost on our level, but not quite, so leave...them...alone. We need to maintain the peace with them."

"I can't play with Trelane," his son growled. "I can't play with the Borg, can't do this, can't do..."

His son would never understand, but Trelane was to Q as Q was to Picard. Trelane was an irritant, a pain in the neck, a kick in the eternal butt, a sore on the lips and anything else one could think of and you couldn't get rid of him. He was like a fly. He even had his own Enterprise to play with, an old one to be sure but a real one nevertheless. Inwardly though, Q was laughing silently. He wondered if Jean Luc would appreciate the irony? "Be patient son. All things come to he who waits."

"You're never patient," his son retorted. "You do anything you want."

"That's not true," Q replied. "I can't go anywhere without you. In fact the Q have said that I can't go anywhere without you. Forever."

That was Q's punishment for acting like a kid. His father, Q would have to be with him to keep an eye on him for eternity.

-Or, until he matured into a responsible Q.

Just like his daddy.

"Father, do you hate me?" his son asked. He was giving him that look, again.

Q was all-powerful, but when it came to his son he was completely helpless. Yep, love could really be a curse. How could this child be so insecure? Q had given him everything. He could do anything he wanted yet he still needed the approval of his father. Now that was a true mystery that even Kate had not given him a satisfactory answer for.

"No. Never. I guess we'll learn to be responsible. Together. Speaking of which, here they come."

Q pointed to his left. Both he and his son were in their chosen humanoid forms, floating effortlessly at the edge of the star's corona.

"Not the Galactica again," his son groaned. "How many times and in how many realities have we seen this? They make it to the Federation or Earth, those stupid Cylons start a fight and they lose," his son said. "And why are they so late in our reality? Talk about boring." The look he gave his father radiated a mix between exasperation and nausea. "What is your obsession with these people?"

"What's your obsession with Voyager and the humans there?"

Silence.

"Ha." Q felt so smug. "It's called infinite diversity in infinite combinations. More importantly, this time it's our reality. What you're about to witness here will change everything for the Federation and everyone they've contacted so far. This is the beginning. Oh, how stunned Katherine and Jean Luc would be if they had a clue as to how the Galactica and Federation humans were truly related," he whispered with glee. "Oh the upheaval! Oh the chaos!"

"Tell me another one, father," his son said quietly. "You've been obsessed with them ever since you saw him and your counterpart go to war for the fate of humanity in that other reality. Your counterpart Q almost lost and you've wanted to try your hand against him ever since."

"True Q," Q admitted. "But its more than that," he said. "Humanity has an interesting quality. They, in their own pitiful way strive to overcome their obvious limitations and usually they fail. But they get up and they strive some more. No matter how pitiful they are they continue to strive." That's what frightens me he thought.

"That's what intrigues me," he said. "Their future and ours are linked. Think about it, if they had been defeated just one year later then they would have found Earth and would have had to deal with the Shadows and Vorlons. It still amazes me just how much a little dimensional rift can do," he said absently. "Both ends of that rift are still open by the way."

"I thought you closed it?"

"I did," Q said offended by the accusation. "But I was too late and you know how trifling mortals are. They keep playing with temporal energies and now the whole place is ruined. That petty temporal war even pulled Picard out from his normal boring life. I was able to correct all the possible outcomes but two. I lost those Picards and one Garrett and a Sisko. It was a pity really."

"You can't get to him?"

"Not in that reality, no. Where they were taken is too fractured. I could get in but not back out with them. The universe would not take kindly to the effort and they would be re-absorbed. It's not worth the risk."

"Too bad."

Q did not want to think about. It represented a failure on his part. Something to be corrected for in the near future.

"Look at them," he continued changing the subject. "Those humans on those ships should be demoralized, just waiting to die, but they're not. They're fighting back even after all this time, more than twenty of their years." He looked at his son and pointed towards the rag-tag fleet. "That need to strive forward is what the Q lack. But one day," he whispered.

"As you've seen, in a couple of realities," he said, changing the subject once again, "the Cylons actually manage to defeat the Colonial humans. But even compared to Data, Cylons are technologically equal to forth-generation Terran calculators. You know the cheap kind that cost so much money when money was important to humans."

"True," Q said. "But what's your point? The Federation is safe. Captain Janeway will have a home to come to."

"Maybe not," his father responded. "Understand that events have been set into motion." His entire aura darkened until the stars rays reflected off him like some malevolent mirror created from dark matter. "The Federation is about to undergo some fascinating developments."

"What's happened? Why did it happen?" This was something new. His son was clearly alarmed.

Good.

"He's done it. Oh, not directly of course. That would be a violation of the Law."

"Who?"

"I believe it's time," Q said, ignoring his son's question, "for me to make a counter move, indirectly, of course. The question is how? How?"

His son was quiet. His father's mood was dark and getting darker by the moment. He could feel the agreement of the entire Q behind his father. He didn't understand what was going on, not fully. He'd have to be patient. He prepared himself to wait.

Infinite diversity required infinite patience.

Chapter One

"Interference"

Commander's log yahren 22, day 116, Apollo reporting: Five sectares have passed since our last contact with Cylon Hunter-Killers. The people have blessed this time, for we have found occasion to rest for short periods on several planets. We grow food; collect supplies and then move on. The Beta quadrant has not been kind to us but we have survived. We have avoided several new races that we've come into contact with because of our pursuers' policy of destroying anyone who offers us help or support. We will not have their deaths on our hands. But because of that choice, we are alone.

President Adama, former Commander of the Fleet and my father, is no longer able to lead our people as health problems have taken their toll. The stress of constantly defending our people is a burden that no man should bear, but I thank the Gods that he is still able to give advice when we need it. As appointed Commander of the fleet I pray that I bear the pressure half as well as he, my father, has. If the Cylons attack, we are ready. Our technology has improved tremendously. Using light speed drive, we can accelerate past six times the speed of light. And our ability to detect wave-space pockets has allowed us to travel much farther than even we thought possible. Our Vipers are three generations more advanced and we're even building light cruisers to aid in our defense.

But our people weary. The thirteenth colony may be a fable after all. We've traveled deep into the Alpha quadrant and no consistent radio signals have been detected as of yet. However, there was a possibility of life near the far fringes of a long dead supernova. But possible Hunter-Killer activity has forced us to abandon the search almost before we could begin. Since then, there has been only silence. This sector may well be devoid of life. Only time will tell.
***

"How's it going, Commander?" Starbuck eased into the chair next to his old friend. The bridge contained room for four command seats. On the next level below over twenty command personnel were on station doing their jobs. From their position, the command staff could oversee everything. The room itself had been painted and repaired more times than could be remembered. A lot of the equipment was a whole was old and battered but still functional. Much of the old, unusable computron consoles had been replaced by the newly designed systems. The factory ships were working overtime, but still projected objectives could be barely met.

"I haven't been in command for two yahren and I am tired. I don't understand how my father dealt with all of this." Apollo took a sip of his tea. He frowned, almost spitting it out.

"Yep, the water system is acting up again," Strike Commander Starbuck, said, answering Apollo's unvoiced question. "Third time this secton. In fact everything is slowly breaking down," he whispered, his eyes circling the bridge. "Even with the improvements, our old girl is losing it."

"I'm surprised she lasted this long. She was over a hundred yahren old before we lost the colonies. Add to that twenty-two more for non stop travel..."

"And the time-distortion effects of the tunnel shifting, we get..."

"Almost four hundred years of stress on the Galactica, not to mention the other ships," Apollo continued.

"And they're still following us," Starbuck finished.

Both of them had repeated a variation of this conversation, for a better part of a yahren. After being together for so long, fighting together, playing together, arguing with one another, they understood each other's thoughts and feelings. They were close, as were Sheba, Apollo's wife and Commander of the Battlestar Pegasus, her second, Colonel Boomer and Bojay, Strike leader of the Battlestar Pegasus's flight command. Sheba's father, Commander Cain, former Captain of the Pegasus, survived as a cryogenic patient on life-support, a victim of a fire that resulted from a Cylon attack some five Yahrens ago. He lived, but hope was slim that help would be found that would allow him some semblance of a normal life.

Jolly another one of the 'old guard' had been lost some two yahren earlier. It was due to natural causes, but his death was a tragedy anyway. His daughter. Joliet now an excellent Cobra class pilot had taken it really hard and now she was colder than ever.

In fact, most of the newer generation had become harder, much colder than their parents. Even the young Borellian Nomen had become blood brothers with the other Colonial factions and when they wanted something few people could stand in their way. Fortunately, all of them were loyal to a fault. Most of them grew up knowing little to nothing of their glorious past heritage. For them, destroying Cylons had become the great equalizer.

"Where's Boxey now?"

"He's in the lead Cobra about six light centons in from of us." Starbuck said. "He's pretty good at this now if I do say so myself. If he needs support, our cover Vipers and Cobras will be all over anybody who messes with him, as you well know."

Starbuck was particularly proud of the Cobra-class fighter-missile carriers, each three times the size of a Viper II and designed to take on any six Raiders single-handedly, without breaking a sweat.

"You know, I can't stand this waiting," Apollo sighed. "My father used to tell me how he felt when we were on assignment. I thought I understood what he meant, but I never imagined that it was like this."

"Tell me about it."

"I'm glad you understand, now," a voice said from behind. It was President Adama, former Commander and savior of the Colonial remnants. He was frail, but his eyes were still bright and his mind sharp. He was smiling with that whimsical smile of his as he sat down next to both of them. "When you send your children out, not knowing if they'll come back your heart always, ALWAYS, goes with them. Boxey, in fact all of them on patrol will be okay. You must have faith, and patience. That's how you have the strength to go on."

"Father," Apollo said, "we haven't seen a Cylon H-K or Raider in over five sectons. We may have given them the slip for a while."

"Starbuck?" Adama looked at him, waiting. He understood how this would play out.

"I concur," Starbuck said.

"Therefore?" he asked quietly, knowing the answer.

"We gather the fleet and go to light speed, tunnel shift and make sure," Apollo said.

"Exactly."

"Starbuck?" said Apollo. "Let the Pegasus and our guard ships know of our presumed exit point. The Vipers should have enough fuel."

“Yes sir. I wish we had engines like those in the old days."

“So do I. So do I."

With the ease of twenty-two yahrens practice, the Galactica and it's ragtag fleet of over two hundred and thirty five vessels accelerated to 'light speed', which in actuality was over six times the speed of light. The Galactica, along with the Rising Star, a luxury liner, but in truth the third most powerful ship in the fleet, each began generating 'tunnel shift' distortion surges, which allowed the ships to enter artificially created wave-space pockets. Taking the lead, the Galactica, with the Rising Star following second, then the rest slipped into the wave space pocket and disappeared. They would re-enter normal space six centares later, nine hundred thirty-five light yahrens distant.

-At the edge of Romulan space.
***

Cylon Hunter-Killer decelerated back into normal space some seventeen light-yahrens distant from an ancient, long dead star that went nova and took powerful T'kon Empire with it. Few remnants were left to mark the once thriving civilization. There remained only a single guardian that even now barred the way from any who would enter the deceased Imperium. But he was old and he no longer had true purpose and so was fading slowly away to rejoin his people once again for the final time. A few other survivors were scattered to the far ends of the galaxy and the once glorious T'kon had faded into footnotes found in obscure history padds.

The Hunter-Killer was designed like the standard Cylon Raider, but almost four times as large with high intensity lasers and increased armor to match. Standard scanning protocols attempted to lock in on the source of the signal it had detected while in FTL transit. The crew consisted of eighteen class-seven Cylon warriors, designed specifically for reconnaissance and insertion operations. They were heavily armored and completely expendable, their programming sophisticated enough to get them from one place to another and damage their opponents, but not much else. Communication between warriors was strictly vocal and minimal. Personal weaponry consisted of simple laser pistols and the standard pulse-laser rifle carried by all class-seven Warriors. Their sole function was to find and facilitate the Destruction of the Galactican fleet and the life-form known as Man. Imperious Leader liked its warriors simple and stupid, especially when they were this far from home.

"Scanners have detected the source of the unidentified emissions," the sensor centurion said. Its voice was cold and metallic with no inflections whatsoever that was associated with living organisms. "The location is the small moon thirty-three light centons, at coordinates one seventy-six by one twenty by ninety, on the Imperium scale."

Is there evidence of Colonial technology at this moon?" another, identical voice asked. The centurion Commander who spoke was a type six series with command protocols programmed into its software matrix.

"Negative, however there is evidence that the Colonial fleet passed through this sector. It is logical to assume that the fleet stopped to investigate in order to assist in their search for the thirteenth colony known as Earth."

"It is logical that we may find evidence, also. Proceed to the moon."

"By your command."

The moon was more of a burned out shell, scorched black, and partially carbonized by the nova explosion. Two thirds of its remains in the seconds after the energy wave front touched crystallized, protecting its dark side from the brunt of the devastation. It was there that a small T'kon service station had survived, barely. It was archaic, essentially obsolete by T'kon standards of the time, having served as an emergency backup simply because one never knew, and the T'kon were a thorough people. Although badly damaged it continually sent a weak automated distress call towards a homeworld that would never answer anything else ever again.

The H-K landed three hundred hectares from the source and began performing a more detailed scan. The Cylons had been tricked many times before and programming now included procedures that countered known sabotage techniques employed by humans. One of these was 'never to land on top of a suspect signal.'

"The area is devoid of life," the scanner operator stated. "Scan has not detected known explosives or energy sources designed to damage or destroy Imperium personnel."

"Recon one," the Leader said, "proceed to the source of the signal and identify as necessary. Report when the task is completed. Evaluation will begin upon the completion of your mission."

"By your command."

Recon one consisted of three seven-foot cyclopean, silver-colored robots each armed with one light pulse laser rifle, a communications transceiver and a visual recording device. Imperious Leader chose not to implement 'internal' communications devices because of budgetary concerns. They exited their craft and fifteen minutes later they reached the source of the signal deep within the confines of an artificially constructed cave. The far majority of the alien equipment was damaged beyond repair and Cylon restorative technology wasn't up to the challenge. Besides the equipment and materials had nothing to do with a Colonial presence. Therefore, the centurions could have cared less.

The second of three robots lumbered up to the transmission source, which resembled a simple black box with several, constantly blinking, multi-colored lights. The Cylon looked at it then turned away. "There is no evidence of a Colonial presence. They have not come here. This place is of no service to the Empire. We must inform our Commander and resume our search for the Galactica."

"By your command," came the reply from the two others. As one, they turned to leave.
***

"Service...Empire...Command..."

Those were the only words that the badly damaged T'kon Service computer registered. Most of its higher functions had been seared away by the massive EM burst and subsequent heat flash of the supernova, but it did remember the word 'Empire'. It serviced the Empire and the mobile equipment in front of it must be from the Empire. Therefore it had to be serviced. That was the command. The command had been given and must be obeyed. An instant later Recon one stood frozen in place as alien sensors performed a detailed scan down to their molecular level. With the information gathered and analysis complete, it began reconstructive surgery on Recon one.

"Software infiltration detected," Cylon two said, even as it tried desperately to move within the containment field. "Software protocols are being rewritten by unknown computer system. "I am unable to resist. Imperial security data is being extracted. Implementing self-destruct mode in..."

Nothing. All systems were completely frozen.

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-16 11:39am

Chapter Two

"Change"

The T'kon servicing system began its work. After a millennium of slumber the chamber had re-activated itself. The entire system, essentially a massive replication device now focused its full attention on Recon one.
"Original software protocols saved and upgraded," the computer said to no one particular, indifferent to the fact that there was no one there to speak to in the first place. "Power source inadequate...update to anti-hydrogen-deuterium battery and support ...memory storage and implementing hardware inadequate...update to liquid crystal chrotronics memory and storage unit compatible with upgraded software protocols...installing database... mobile support system inadequate...update to admantium-plated, hyper-steel alloy combat chassis configured for mobile units... communications inadequate... update to internal sub-space transceivers and data stream initiators...visual sensors and analysis modules inadequate...update to broad spectrum detection system consistent with macro and micro scanning capabilities, specifics to follow... Weapons system inadequate...update to dual internal pulse, multi-phased disruptors compatible with anti-hydrogen deuterium battery systems...self-repair systems non-existent ...self-replicator units being installed...systems check initiated..."

When the operation was completed, the service computer turned its attention on the Cylon H-K a short distance away.

For the Cylon Empire nothing would ever be the same ever again. The change was forever and the repercussions would reverberate throughout the Alpha quadrant and beyond.
***

A secton later three double saucer shaped Cylon Basestars, each three miles in diameter, decelerated into normal space, settling into orbit around the decrepit moon in response to the urgent calls of the H-K, initially thought lost to Colonial actions. Baltar, human liaison to Imperious Leader and one of the greatest human traitors in this galaxy's history, was coldly furious.

"Over twenty yahrens and we STILL can't get it right?" he yelled. "There's nothing here!"

Lucifer, a robot designed along the IL series models, Cylon liaison to Baltar, flinched slightly. The light transmissions in his pointed cybernetic brain had begun cycling quicker as did his dual pulsating eyes, an internal response to the criticalness of the situation. It had taken far too long to find the humans and Imperious Leader would replace them. Soon.

Baltar, Lucifer thought, would be completely useless before long, as his frail body slowly disintegrated from age. These were such short term-creatures. Even now the human rarely used the command chair. The man had lived with too much fear. Fear of what his Cylon allies would do to him. Fear of death, the fear of succeeding, fear of failing, fear of being alone, fear of having too much company, and of course the great fear of the unknown. Fear burned him slowly, like a low intensity laser cutter.

"The report said that they'd found the Galactica," Lucifer intoned as soothingly as possible. "Centurions, unlike humans, tell the truth, Baltar."

Baltar glared at it but said nothing. Centurions didn't lie, although the IL series did, but he wasn't about to point that out.

Yes it thought, this is what humans would refer to as stress. "The report is coming in now, Baltar. I hope it meets to our satisfaction," it said dryly. "For all our sakes."

The vid screen opened and the Leader of the Cylon H-K appeared. "By your command," it said. "We have tracked the Galactica and have discovered the home world of the humans of the thirteenth colony. Prepare to receive the coordinates..."

The words were correct but the look was wrong. Baltar backed away from the screen in a good approximation of human dread. Something wasn't right, but for a moment he couldn't identify the problem. By his side Lucifer was yelling to cut the transmission. Baltar had never heard terror from his second-in-command. It seemed unnatural coming from a robot and that terrified him that much more.

Lucifer however understood completely what had happened and was desperate to stop what it knew would begin. "Full defense alert! All ships fire on..."

The order came far, far, too late.
***

For centars Baltar examined each and every immobile Cylon he encountered, finally stopping at the outer doors of the launching bay. All twenty thousand Cylons were immobile and the ships systems had completely and totally locked him out. Voice command was useless and he'd never learned how to manually operate the ship, even though he'd dwelt on it for yahrens now. Then several Cylons of a type and model he'd never seen before had materialized - materialized out of thin air! -and began to reconfigure the inert Cylons, which were then reactivated. Totally oblivious to him, the new models continued inserting what he thought were small circuitry boards into their counterparts and those robots physically change into... something else. These, these alien things were far more powerful, sleeker, faster, and infinitely more dangerous than anything he'd imagine before.

Now, after several centars even his Basestar seemed subtly different. How this could happen by simply inserting circuitry boards into various robots was beyond his terrified imagination. The technology required to do this was incomprehensible to him in his present state. But he understood that, for himself, the bottom line was this: Those changes were happening exponentially now and he had no clue as to what those things were or how to stop it. Fear had always motivated him and now he was thinking furiously.

The one advantage he had at this point was that these alien Cylons were ignoring him...for the moment. However, the launch bays were denied him therefore escape was impossible. He realized that time was against him now and whatever was happening would be completed soon.

His mind was shrieking now crazed with possibilities. What could I do? How can I take advantage of this situation? He had only one objective and that was to live for the next few hours while he thought of avenues of escape.

The door opened behind him and he stifled a scream.

"Baltar, the ship said I would find you here." It was Lucifer's voice, as silkily obscene as ever. Baltar turned and recoiled away from the robot now facing him. The being before him was nothing like the Lucifer he'd known for the last twenty or more yahrens of his life.

"What do you mean, the ship told you where I was?" His voice trembled now even as he backed away. He was losing it, succumbing to his mounting terror. He could understand nothing of what was transpiring. "This ship can't speak! It can't think!"

"We and the ships are one, " Lucifer answered cryptically. Although its head was fairly similar to its version before the change, it now looked larger, somehow more complex and a lot more sinister. Its body was now designed for efficiency and combat. "Baltar," it said pleasantly, "look upon me and witness the next stage in Cylon evolution. We are becoming more than the sum of our parts. I am now become Imperious Leader and when my predecessor arrives; it will become the Imperium Supreme. And my Leader will come with the entirety of the Cylon Empire, I will make sure of that. This is the day we have waited for, although I must admit that I never imagined so drastic a change would occur as a result."

"Baltar I have a question." Lucifer demanded, his voice raised, but reverberating so low that Baltar had trouble understanding the speech. "How is it that you of all people could have possibly obtained the rank of Battlestar Commander? Who did you have to bribe in order to get that commission?"

"I...I..."

Lucifer jumped backwards one step so quickly that Baltar again almost screamed. "So this is what it means to feel joy!" Lucifer yelled, not caring in the least for Baltar's answer, its voice rumbling throughout the docking bay. Then it faced his former Commander, its eyes locked on him, turning so dark as to be almost purple. "To the extent you have helped us to achieve this glorious transformation, I thank you and now bid you farewell. You have been most helpful my once and true friend."

"What do you mean? Where am I going?" he said laughing nervously. He was almost petrified but dared not show it, not right now.

"I have informed our people that the thirteenth colony is here and have sent for the fleet. A vanguard of twenty-five Basestars will arrive soon. When they come we will change them and then, Man will begin to cease to exist. The benevolent rule of the Cylon will began here in the Alpha quadrant.

"But our agreement," Baltar whimpered, "I would be ruler of a remnant of humans, under Imperious Leader...under you! I've been loyal! You, you know me! We have worked together, side by side for the glory of the Imperious Leader. You...you can let me go. I'm no threat to you! I don't even care about ruling anymore. I want to live!"

"Baltar," the red-eyed robotoid said sweetly, "did you really expect anything different? If you did, then you've missed the entire point of this war. It calls for the elimination of the life form known as man. Man can't be eliminated if members of the species still live. You know this. You've always known this!"

"No," Baltar implored. "Please, let me go. I'll never be a threat to you."

"Was that a command, oh magnificent Baltar? If so, then by my command, I say no."

What one Cylon witnessed all upgraded Cylons could now witness. Lucifer pulled out a small rod, adjusted the settings, pointed at Baltar and watched him scream for an instant before it pressed the stud. The yellowish beam hit the horrified human and very slowly disrupted his molecular structure from existence. The weapon took eight long seconds to complete it job. It was pleased at what transpired-

-As were all the others.
***

For four sectons, the refugees of the Colonial fleet rested on the class-M planet they'd discovered upon exiting transit. There was no intelligent life there but the animal and plant life more than supplied the people with the necessary nutritional needs so desperately lacking. They discovered that the brachiosaur-like creatures roaming the planet were extremely plentiful. Not only did the creatures supply plenty of meat, but also it was delicious, especially grilled over an open fire, something that occurred all to rarely for space dwelling refugees. The Colonials had to watch out for the small meat-eaters though. They were bold and didn't like being deprived of fresh meat. Two people had been seriously injured by attacks from these fast moving meatasaurds.

As always, the Galactica was on station close to the planet with a screen of Vipers three AI's out. The Pegasus meanwhile patrolled close to the edge of the solar system with a compliment of Cobras. Adder-class warships cruised the areas between the two warships ready to advance in any direction at a moments notice. Between the two Battlestars it was assumed that ample warning could be given in case of Cylon discovery or an open Cylon attack.

Commanders Sheba, and Apollo, along with Boomer, Starbuck, President Adama, Sire Forsen, Dr. Chia, Lieutenants Boxey and Joliet sat in the secured chambers onboard the Galactica. Small talk was short.

"I thought you said that the Alpha quadrant was fairly devoid of life?" President Adama asked his embarrassed scientists. "Now you tell us that we've been receiving signals all this time?" The reproof in his voice was quite evident.

"That's not quite what we said," Dr. Chia announced, somewhat chagrined. "But we had no idea that we were even receiving transmissions until Lieutenant Joliet's comm system shorted while she was on patrol. Boxy and his squadron confirmed it when they adjusted their comms to that unusual frequency. Or should I say frequencies. It's like nothing we've experienced before. And there's so much of it. It's almost unbelievable. Most of it is on something we are calling the sub-space frequencies."

"So there is life here. But what kind of life?" Sheba asked. She was so close to her husband that she was almost on his lap. Apollo blushed but loved every second of it. "Is it going to try to kill us?"

My researchers and I have no clue at this time," came Chia's slightly sarcastic response. "But we're working on it. Now that we know what to look for we've counted at least ninety different main channels with over seven thousand different languages!"

Sire Forsen looked around towards Adama and spoke quietly as was his character. "There's going to be a lot of first contact situations if all this is true," he said. "And we'll have to prepare them for the eventual invasion by the Cylons. These people won't be prepared for those machines."

"But if they're communicating as intensely as you say they are, then most likely some of them may be strong enough to help us resist those fracken machines, excuse me, machines," Starbuck said, correcting himself in front of his superiors.

"I hope so," Apollo said. "But our previous experience has proven otherwise. Therefore we have to assume that they won't be strong enough to resist a Cylon onslaught. And if we commit here in the Alpha quadrant, then the Galactica will have to stay and fight. We won't bring our troubles here and abandon those races that may be willing to help us. Not even for our own people. Not again."

"But sir," Boxey started. "We put our lives on the line every day. Our people need us and there's no one else we can depend on, except maybe Earth, if it exist... and they want us. We can't have some glorious last stand and allow our people that we've protected for the last ...I don't know how long, to be wipe away because of some esoteric policy.

Listening to his son speak like that, Apollo smiled. He was always so formal since he entered the service. "The entire fleet discussed this," he said, "and ratified by the Vote of Absolution.

"We can and will run until this universe ends, but, if necessary, we will fight to the last man, woman and child if it means we wind up being responsible for the destruction of another race of living beings."

"Look Boxey," Boomer said. "What happens if we find Earth and they can't defend themselves against the Cylons? Do we pack up and run?"

"No. They're human like us...I hope. But what if they're not? They've been separated from so for so long, that they may have mutated so their society is something as bad as the Cylons."

"That makes no difference. We would still be responsible for the destruction that would be facing them. So then how do we live with ourselves if we do run, leaving them to the mercy of the Cylon Empire, mutates or not?"

"We don't," he answered. "Unless they try to kill us."

"That's enough Lieutenant," the President said, rather harshly. "We've lost everything but our lives and our honor. We who are responsible intend not to lose that most precious of gifts. We will deal with our cousins as necessary but we will not simply assume the worst about them without ever meeting them."

"Then concerning first contact," Sire Forsen began, "what technology should we offer them that won't damage their culture? Because as we all know, a more advanced civilization shouldn't..."

The double tone alarms began blaring, causing everyone to immediately jump and run to stations. Sheba, Boomer, Boxey and Joliet rushed towards the launch bays while the president, Apollo and Starbuck approached the bridge.

"Light radar detected a Cylon H-K coming out of a W/S pocket six centons ago, the young blond haired tech said. "Vipers Sixteen, Eighteen, and Cobra Seven are engaging. The fleet's powering up as per standing orders."

"Good. Give the order," Apollo said. "We're moving out. Straight line: away from the point of entry by the Cylon. Earth here we come, wherever you are."

They could feel the Galactica's powerful engines revving up. Hundreds of shuttles were lifting off planet to their respective ships. The evacuation, performed over and over throughout the twenty plus yahrens running would take six centares.

"Sir!" the second light radar tech, a young Asian male said rather loudly. "The H-K is a new model not presently in our data base."
]
"Put it on the screen."

The computer spit out a digital representation of the unknown H-K. It was definitely Cylon, but the power ratios!

The two Vipers followed by their Cobra escort, rapidly closed the gap between themselves and the large Cylon H-K. It came straight towards them and only just now were sensors detecting the activation of its weapons. Cylon response time was always slow, but constantly running from an enemy like this...this was embarrassing.

"Vipers Sixteen and eighteen have target acquisition," the blond tech said. "The enemy isn't even trying to evade. They're firing." Her computer console flared simulating a digital release of energy. "Direct hit...no effect! They're evading... the enemy's locked on Sixteen." The console screen flared again, this time brighter. "Sixteen's gone!" the tech stammered, rocked in horror.

"What happened?" yelled Adama moving closer to the sensor screens. The entire bridge crew was stunned, momentarily forgetting to do their jobs as the action was shown on the big screen. Command staff never noticed the lapse in attention.

"That wasn't laser fire. It was- some type of...disrupter beam?" the second tech answered unsure of his data. "It cut through the Viper's shields and armor as though it wasn't there!"

Viper Eighteen and Cobra Seven are running in...they're firing ...firing again...firing again! Three hits!"

The screen interpretation changed color as damage accumulated on the enemy warship. "Three hits! It's damage! Thank the gods!" Sixteen is evading. The H-K is locking on! The Cobra's launching its missiles at close range, all of them! The missiles are away.... the Cylon is evading... Hit!"

"Its gone sir." The technician was visibly relieved. "We killed it."

"My god! Who was in Viper Sixteen?" Starbuck asked. "Lieutenant Trisha, sir."

"They've up us," Apollo whispered, stunned by the ease in which the H-K resisted the Colonial ships. "All of our preparation, all our weapons advances...."

"Let's move people."
***

The Cylon Gold Leader addressed Lucifer, the new Imperious Leader. It chose to voice the modified salutation. "By the command." From that point, internal transceivers took over with it using the Cylon machine language of choice. "The Galactica fleet has taken the bait. We will move to intercept at the prescribed time. The H-K crew's protection bubble survived the destruction of the H-K and they have been recovered."

"It is approved," Imperious Leader said. "I wonder if they suspect that we allowed the H-K to be destroyed? No matter. The Galactica fleet is only a nuisance now. We will terminate it and move on. The true threat now comes from Earth and its Federation of Planets. Data indicates that the humans on that planet are like their Colonial counterparts. They've spread everywhere. But it's ultimately unimportant. The system for the creation of the new base of operations has been selected. The quest for the elimination of the human species will end here in the Alpha quadrant."

Lucifer formerly of the IL series, now Imperious Leader, activated the star chart and simultaneously activated its transceiver so that all twenty-eight Basestars currently present would observe the proposed plan. Their transformations were almost complete and the joining to complete consensus of the Cylon soul was close at hand. "This is where the proposed strike against the Galactica will occur," it said, pointing to the region of space on it's left. "We will strike here, by crossing the Romulan neutral zone that divides the Romulan Empire from the Federation. Despite recent alliances, the two governments still maintain the check and balance systems needed to ensure protection against hostilities."

"We calculate that the Romulan Empire will not interfere with our task force. However the Federation starship on patrol will not allow us to destroy the Galactica fleet without challenging us. That is our true target. Once captured, we will access the necessary data and proceed deep into Federation space under the proposed plan. Our feints against other worlds will allow us access to Earth before we meet organized resistance. Neutron-based disruptors will extinguish all life on that planet. Transmissions received indicate that the planet Earth is the Federation's seat of power. With Earth neutralized, we will then proceed from there in establishing our dominance over the Alpha quadrant. The operation will began in five point six-seven sectars, as our Base Alpha will be Functional. All Commanders will transceive as to finalize the plan. I will then transmit our progress to the Imperium Supreme."

"By the command," Gold Leader stated.

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-16 11:42am

Chapter Three

"Blood Feud"

Personal log: Captain Roberta Ikata recording. We are one point three days out, heading for the Romulan neutral zone to take over patrol tour from the USS Khe Sahn. I must say I am excited because we have very unusual guests on board: a family of Horta. We are transporting our 'guests' to The Khe Sahn who will take them to the new colony they are developing at Hiopa IV, a mineral rich world very similar to their home planet. In addition they will participate in a conference with two other silicon species, which are considering joining the Federation. This is a great opportunity and I only wish that I could be there. So far they haven't eaten my ship yet and one of the little ones even wants to join Starfleet. That would make two members, if he applies and completes the training.
***
Captain Ikata, relaxing in her command chair continued sipping her tea. She possessed the classic features of her Japanese heritage, with long black hair that reached to her waist if she allowed it to hang loose. She was short but she had that command presence that made one stand up and take notice.

Around her everyone was busy but relaxed which was exactly the way she liked it. Her ship, the USS Okada, was a 'New Orleans' class frigate with a current compliment of four hundred and two. Although its size was just slightly smaller than the original Constitution class starship, both ship and crew had seen their share of battle during the Dominion war conflict and had survived relatively intact, a fact which could be attributed directly to her Captain.

Ikata enjoyed her tours of the neutral zone these days. The Romulans weren't as hostile these days, but one had to still be careful.

The communications officer, of course had to pull her out of her good mood.

"Sir, the USS Khe Sahn is hailing us, your eyes only."

"I'll take it in the ready room."

The vid screen activated and a serious middle-aged woman appeared on the viewer. "Roberta, we got problems here," Captain Patricia Duvalier said without preamble. The Captain was a breath-taking, about forty-one years of age, dark skin and intense eyes. "Something's happening in Romulan space. Our scans are detecting massive explosions and energy release consistent with weapons fire. It's not near our side of the zone but it's still too close for comfort. And on top of that, a Klingon taskforce just de-cloaked in front of me and they're itching to sneak in and find out what's going on over there. I'm trying to dissuade them but you know how they are. I think two of them sneaked off anyway. If they get caught, Romulan long-range detectors are going to see the Khe Sahn and these ships, put two and two together and assume the Federation has something to do to with it."

"Then," she continued, "there's this fleet of unidentified bogies at the very edge of the neutral zone coming in at one thirty six mark thirteen. Remember that old Terran saying 'when it rains, it pours'? Well it's true," she growled. "I want you to check out those ships out now because I can't go with these good-for-nothing Klingons watching everything I do."

Robert gave the orders and her ships scans picked them up. They were the strangest ship signatures she'd ever seen. Just about every configuration she could think of and none of them quite matched known Federation related analogs. However they did possessed a type of familiarity to them that she couldn't place. And there were no matter-antimatter power sources detected.

"We have them. Any identification?"

"Negative. They're traveling at barely warp one point six, but it's a hodgepodge of configurations and some of these ships are really BIG," she said. "And their power source is strange. This may well be a first contact situation."

"I'll check 'em out and get back to you. Have fun."

"Thanks Roberta. Pat out." She really looked irritable as she closed the connection. She had a problem with Klingons but...what could one say? Pat hated Klingons and made few qualms about it. And they loved her for her honesty. The more she showed her contempt, the more they wanted to be around her. But she never seemed to notice that little connection. Roberta thought that maybe she would tell her-one day. And then laugh as she went ballistic.

"Well, so much for a relaxing six weeks, " Roberta murmured to herself. She stood up, looking her view-screen and the stars painted on them. "Helm, plot a course to the targets."

"Course plotted," the helmsmen, a young Vulcan female stated without emotion.

"Well then, warp factor two," she ordered. "Go."

They would intercept the strange fleet in two days. The Okada swerved gracefully and a moment later, it was gone.
***

From the observation chair, Imperious Leader looked at the devastation with what could only be described as disgust. In the last three days, two Cylon Basestars had been destroyed, and two more damaged by those infuriating Romulan warships. However, twelve of their ships-of- the- line would never again fly against the Cylon Empire. Twenty-four more had been damaged, but that still wasn't a fair exchange. And now they were getting serious. A major fleet would be arrayed against them within the centar. It would be the first of many that would occur in the next few sectons.

From all of the free flowing data that permeated this quadrant, it was discovered that Romulans didn't care for humans. They hated and in truth, feared them in fact. The plan should have worked. Foolishly, the Cylons had assumed that they could cross Romulan territory, intercept and destroy Galactica without interference, since it was a human fleet they were after. Plus the fact that they had informed the Romulan government that its government would irradiate their second largest off-world colony if hindered should have been the defining deterrent. The plan was a simple one and should have worked with minimum difficulty.

Who said organics were logical?

The Praetor, who appeared incensed that their colony's defenses had been so easily breached, ranted and raved about an act of war being perpetrated upon his people and that it would never be tolerated as long as he ruled and Romulan people lived. It was assumed that he was posturing but would soon submit in order to save his people. The Romulan Empire was recovering from a devastating war with a group of beings called the Dominion. Therefore another conflict would not be in its best interest at this time.

Cylon intelligence had assumed incorrectly. The moment the two Basestars assigned to intercept the Galactica fleet entered Romulan space they were attacked. So the Cylons retaliated as was expected. Using thermo-solium weapons, a Cylon Basestar irradiated one third of the planet and one billion organics ceased to function. Again it was assumed that the Praetor would allow them access, least the remainder of the population be eliminated however, the entire counsel rejected that generous offer. So the order was given and the Basestar activated its neutron disruptors and methodically burned the colony world for seventeen hours. When it was finished there was nothing, not even bacteria, left alive.

The Empire rose up as one body and the Romulans screamed blood feud.

So be it, Imperious Leader thought. Organics bled, Cylons didn't. But the intercept force had been unprepared for the ferocious onslaught of Romulan resistance. They had been unable to present a decent defense as their H-K and fighters were prevented from exiting the launching bays.

This time would be different. Their highly maneuverable, warp capable H-K's and fighters would play havoc upon the Romulan birds of prey, cloaking capability or not. The Supreme Imperium and Imperious Leader were of one accord. The Romulans had defied the Cylon edict as the humans had over a thousand yahrens past. But with their newly integrated T'kon technology, they would burn the organics fleets and their twin worlds in that order. A new edict had been issued. Destroy the life form known as Romulan. This included Vulcan's.

The timetable for the Galactica and the Federation would have to be changed. It was time for the alternative plan.
***

Personal log: Captain Jean Luc Picard reporting: The first diplomatic meeting between Federation and Kronjye representatives here onboard the Enterprise-E has gone remarkably well. I'm particularly pleased that I invited Guinan onboard for this exciting and unique time to serve in Ten-Forward as our 'unofficial' liaison. It was her pleasant demeanor and subtle guidance that helped us to win them over. This ant-like species with their extraordinary technology and culture may one day be a wonderful addition to the Federation. I can only hope that we can continue our relationship on a cordial basis, as sometimes humanoid and insectoid species have difficulties in being sympathetic towards one another.

On a much more serious note, there have been increasing rumors about a possible Romulan conflict occurring in their territories. It could be the beginnings of a civil war, but the Romulan ambassador is typically not forthcoming. The Federation will not interfere with the internal affairs of another government, however there is a danger that it could spill over into neutral space. The relations between our two governments have been more cordial since the recent joining of our forces against the Dominion, however we could lose all this if their conflict creates an 'incident' which could cause renew hostilities between them and us. I only hope that the rumors are just that, a rumor.

Captain Picard relaxed for the first time in long time. His 'Number One', Commander William T. Riker had returned from his vacation with the ships counselor Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troy from the latest trip to Earth. Everyone on the bridge, including Picard, were enraptured by the reports of their ex-shipmate, Lieutenant Reginald Barclay's contact with the USS Voyager.

"To be that far in a science vessel for almost seven years," Deanna said, "alone and surrounded by hostile forces. I can't imagine being constantly worried about keeping one step ahead of hostile forces, especially the Borg. The strain must be almost unbearable. But they seem to doing well despite the obvious isolation and pressures involved."

"And this woman Seven of Nine has become a real asset for them. And she was Borg from at least age what nine...twelve?"

"Obviously Captain Janeway is one brave woman," Riker said. "I told you I met her once, didn't I?"

"Yes," Picard said softly. "Q."

"My memory returned soon after first contact with Voyager by Reg. I guess it wasn't necessary to keep it secret anymore."

"Yes," he murmured again. He was proud of his first officer but his mind was somewhere else. I wonder how I would have done in Janeway's position, he thought? Would I have made a deal with the Borg in order to save my ship? Would I have let my prejudices cause Species eight-four-seven-two to overrun our galaxy? He was glad he would never have to answer those questions.

"Oh, Will?" he said changing the subject in his mind. "Congratulations again on finally accepting the Captaincy."

"I'm not 'Captain' yet. Not until the Melbourne is ready in a couple of months," he said smiling with that wicked gleam in his eyes. "I hear it's the same as the Enterprise...just my luck!" he moaned. "Another oversized Sovereign-class vessel. I guess that's my queue to leave this ship. Rumor is that they've changed the corridors a little. I hope I don't get lost," he said laughing.

"I'm sure you won't," Picard said, dryly. He stopped when that white, bright flash filled the bridge. Everyone familiar with what the flash signified simply groaned.

"Did someone mention my name?" Q, dressed in an admiral's uniform arrived in his usual flash along with his son, dressed merely in a Commander's uniform.

"No Q. We said the word queue, not Q. So go away."

"Too late, mon Capitain," Q said brightly, ignoring the insult. He looked around at the Enterprise -E. "You're kind of hard on ships aren't you? But...I digress. I brought someone I want you to meet. His name is Q and he's my son," he said stunning everyone. "It's his coming out party. I though you'd like to meet him." Q almost didn't realize how proudly he's said that to the bridge crew. Then he added. "Hey, Picard ...jealous?"

"What do you want Q"?

"Oh nothing, really. I'm just here to celebrate my son's party. I've told him so much about you that he just had to meet you."

Picard got up, walked over to young Q, grabbed his hand, and shook it warmly. "It's nice to meet you," he said quietly. Watching his father's stunned expression, he added, "what's the matter Q? Jealous?"

For once Q was quiet, while his son actually blushed. Riker and even Data were smiling brightly.

Well, Q thought, he'd get them back in the future.

"Hello Data," the young Q said, examining him carefully.

"Hello Q," Data returned.

You're right, father," Q said. "He's much better than those others. Much better."

"Quiet son," he retorted. "We don't want it to go to his head, so to speak. And stop looking at Deanna. She's way, way too old for you."

"Oh, thank you, Q." She snarled.

"You're welcome," he responded pleasantly, flashing his best smile. "Anyway Picard," Q continued, transporting the entire bridge crew into the ready room complete with hats, "I wanted to give you all a gift."

Two bottles pop into Picard and Riker's hands.

"To Commander Riker, future Captain of the USS Melbourne. This is a bottle of Romulan Ale. Not the cheap stuff, mind you," he added quickly. "This is a two-hundred old aged vintage." His eyes got very cold. "Enjoy it, "he said, eyes flashing a cold fire. "It may be the last ale you ever receive from the Empire."

Then he turned to Picard quickly. "And to you, a bottle of Romulan berry wine. Oh sure, I know," he said seriously, "that it isn't as good as your own winery. But I want you to enjoy this as it may never pass your non-humorous lips again."

The room was totally silent.

Finally Picard spoke. "We got the message, Q."

"You do?" he asked. "That was way too easy," he said sounding vaguely disappointed. "Makes you wish for the good old days doesn't it?"

"Never," Picard answered immediately. "Is it really that bad?" His tone was deadly serious.

"Well, as I always say, 'there are terrors to freeze the soul out here Captain and it's not for the timid'. Too bad Micro-brain isn't here," he said referring to Commander Worf, now a Klingon ambassador. "He would just love this. Bye everybody," he said joyfully. "Hey Riker! Try not to blow up your ship this time!"

He smiled and both Q's disappeared.

The red alert sounded as Picard and crew prepared for warp seven, headed towards the neutral zone.
"Inform Starfleet," Picard ordered. "Priority one. Tell them we have a problem."
***

Onboard the Galactica, The bank of scanner personnel couldn't believe the readout they were seeing.

"Confirmed, sir. It's a Cylon Basestar. And it's running us down," the scanner tech announced. "They're using some type of matter-antimatter reaction as a power source. At least that's what I think it is. I've never seen anything like this."

"By the lords of Kobol!" Starbuck couldn't believe the speed in which the Cylon mother ship was approaching. That can't be right! Double check the instrumentation!"

"It's confirmed, sir." The scanning tech had checked and double-checked a few moments earlier even before the order was given. "The speed is three hundred ninety two times the speed of light. That gives us zero point five centars before it's all over us!"

"We would have never known if not for new scanners," he muttered. "Battle-stations! Inform the Rising Star and the rest of the fleet to close up ranks. The Pegasus and the Galactica will drop back and engage the enemy. Prepare the Vipers to launch."

The oversized bridge's lighting normal color changed to dark red and the alarms signaled combat readiness, something that had not happened in more than two yahrens.

"The Pegasus is contacting us, sir," the communications tech said. "President Adama is also on the line sir."

"Make it a three way conference call, "Apollo said. "We'll have to make this fast."

Sheba, sitting in the command chair onboard the Battlestar Pegasus appeared onscreen her face lit up the screen. Her hair was graying and still carried that haunted look in her eyes, a memento of her father's coma-like state, but she also burned with that same fire that almost got Apollo killed when he and Starbuck first contacted the Pegasus and the famous Commander Cain a little over twenty yahrens past.

"It's got to be some new type of prototype," she said without preamble, eyes flicker between looking at them and her scanners. "Obviously they have new technology, but then so do we. We're dropping back to engage. The new shielding is online and the Cobras and Adders are awaiting the word."

"We're going to back you up," Starbuck added. "Between the two of us, that ship shouldn't be too much of a problem."

The president frowned. "Don't assume anything," he stated flatly. "It moves quickly, but their short range mobility is for now, suspect. But we don't know the capabilities of this new ship and if we move to far from the fleet, it might simply bypass us and hit it."

"But we really we don't have a choice do we?" Apollo's voice was cold. He'd dreaded this moment. "Slow the fleet to normal space and launch all Vipers and Cobras. We'll make our stand here."

"The Cylon slowing down also and will intercept in fifteen centons."

"All ships launched. Four of our Adder-class gunships are moving in to support the Pegasus."

The Adder-class ships were in effect mini-destroyers similarly designed like their much larger Battlestar cousins but without the launching bays. They were heavily armored and shielded and carried the latest in offensive laser weaponry. The Captains, mostly former Viper pilots were arrogant and confident of their ships' abilities and were eager for this upcoming fight.

"I don't believe this!" The scanning tech said gritting her teeth. "Sir, we have another ship approaching at almost the same speed. Configuration unknown, but definitely not Cylon. But the power source is very similar. It's generating some kind of major distortion field. Very sophisticated. It's small, but with those power levels we wouldn't want to mess with it."

Adama broke in. "These beings might be an ally to the Cylons, but I would recommend that we take no hostile action against it unless it does first."

"It could be some of the locals checking things out," Starbuck chimed in. "I'll bet a secton's pay that when the action starts it'll run so fast we wont even see it leave." At least that's what I'm hoping for if they are Cylon allies, he prayed.

"If it's smart, it will." Apollo turned to the scanning tech speaking harshly. "Keep an eye on it. If its actions appear hostile have a few Vipers escort it from this area."
***

The Captain of the USS Okada ordered a reduction to warp one as they approached the unknown fleet. She wanted to make sure she didn't cause a problem with an initial first contact situation, especially since they were unable to communicate with them.

"Have we established communications with them yet?"

"No Captain," Patterson replied. "They may be on some unusual frequency but I'm scanning. A moment later, "I'm not sure they're receiving us. I'm attempting to re-calibrate and I should be ready to try again in a couple of minutes."

"Good. Meanwhile, lets see if we can stay out of the line of fire." To her science officer she pointed and said, "Give me a detailed scan of those two warships. They're preparing for some type of action and I want to make sure it's not us they're concerned with."

"We have been scanned, however they seem to be concentrating on that big space station-sized ship vectoring on them."

She was astonished when her science officer told her that the occupants of those derelict ships were definitely human. Not only was the technology strangely different than Federation standard, but also why would a human fleet be skirting the edge of Romulan space? "Are you sure they're human?" She asked again.

"Absolutely no doubt."

Her first officer, Commander Esdo, a Naseah, Stood up from his chair and moved closer to the view screen as though to get a better look. Ikata was amazed that his species weren't related to Klingons. He had no head ridges but his pure white hair and long moustache gave the appearance of some wild, savage warrior. But he was one of the controlled individuals Ikata had ever met, like a wild-type samurai of the old times.

"Maybe, they're some colony that the Federation lost track of," he said, questioningly.

"Maybe," Roberta stated. "But the technology is so unusual that it's like they went off into another direction entirely. From an engineering point, I mean. Their ships are ion-powered. Very efficient. We could learn a few things from them."

"Sir, the other ship just warped into normal space. Its shields are up. I can't tell what type of life forms are onboard."

"Captain." The science officer said sharply, "that incoming ship has considerably more firepower than those two fleet battleships. It's going to be a one sided affair."

"Sir, everybody's powering weapons up and the double saucer ship just released its own fighters into the area."

Roberta placed her hands on her hips. "Let's see if we can nip this in the bud. Patterson, contact the Khe Sahn and keep the channel open. Let the know that if we lose contact for more than two minutes, I want 'em to come running ASAP loaded for bear."

"T'Proa, lay in a course parallel to the fighting...warp two... and be ready to pull us out if necessary. Don't wait for my order. And Patterson, keep trying."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Yes, Captain," the Vulcan woman answered.

"Red alert. T'Proa, go."

"Engaged."

"Sir," Patterson said. "Khe Sahn acknowledges and states that all we need do is say 'eeek' and they'll be there before the echo dies."

"Good."

The Federation starship flew towards the massive conflict some fifteen minutes away.

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-16 11:46am

Chapter Four

"The Pegasus and the Okada"

Two centons after the engagement began Adama knew they were destined to lose. The Pegasus was barely holding its own against these new Cylon H-K's and fighters. The Colonial Vipers and Cobras were in desperate straits, utilizing everything they had in an attempt at simple survival. Augmentation by the heavily armed Adders helped only a small amount.

"They're all over us!" was the last thing the pilot in Viper thirty-two had a chance to say before he and his ship were cut in half by a Cylon Raider. Space was being filled with parts from exploding Colonial warships.

Boxey and Joliet along with four other Cobras and six Vipers caught two H-K's in a vicious crossfire and blew them out of space.

"It took five hits! Did you see that?" Vicdon screamed. This was his first real firefight and the engineer was on the verge of panic.

"Shut up and keep firing," Joliet yelled at her frightened port gunner. If he froze the six other crewmembers might also. That's the last thing any of them needed.

"But the laser generators..."

"I don't care, " she countered. "Burn them out if you have to!" She was evading two Raiders that were trying so very hard to kill her ship. If he screwed up on her now, she promised herself that she'd blow his brains out the instant before her ship died.

The Colonial primary attack forces found themselves protecting the Pegasus rather than bringing the fight to the Basestar. An average of six direct hits from the new and improved laser weaponry were needed to penetrate a Cylon fighter's shields, with the H-Ks requiring even more concentrated fire. What terrified them even more was that two H-Ks were a match for an Adder-class cruiser. And so far they'd lost three to H-K fire. The anti-proton disruptors were tearing them apart. The Cylons were slowly converging the Galactica now, not organized but getting there as they destroyed all resistance before them.

Apollo was looking at his reports of his wife's Battlestar and didn't like what he saw at all. "Their shields will be overwhelmed any centon now unless we can back those fighters off!" Apollo screamed. "Their firepower is incredible! How did this happen?"

"We're going to have to protect the Pegasus if we're going to have a chance!" Starbuck screamed over the dim of the battle. "We need to use our heavy guns if she's going to survive the next few centons!"

Do it!" Apollo understood all to clearly, that against this enemy ship both Battlestars would be needed and even then it'd be a toss up. He was appalled and more than a little terrified that the Galactica's heavy guns were needed just to defend against small attack ships. What would happen when the Basestar entered the fighting?

The Galactica moved in, adding its immense firepower against the brutal Cylon onslaught.
***

Onboard the Pegasus, Sheba thanked her gods that Apollo chose to fight this attack as a unit instead of independently. Her shields were holding, barely, but they badly needed regenerating. And that would occur only when those fighters were backed off which is what the Galactica had just achieved. She added her own heavy weapons into the fray as the enemy gave a little distance.

The bridge was full of the wounded and Sheba had to block out the sounds of agony. Her ship was being bounced around by the massive hits it received by the smaller ships. The Vipers and Adders were desperately trying to help but they were to busy trying to survive themselves. More than once she had been tempted to turn her ship around but of course, that choice was no choice at all. All the Pegasus could do was to sweat out the microns before they could attack the Baseship.

Boomer was wounded. His arm was broken, but he still bellowed orders as though he hadn't even noticed the pain. The Cylon Basestar was coming into position for an attack run and his occupation was riveted towards it. Quickly he requested status on the missile launchers.

"Sir," the weapons manager yelled over monstrous clatter. "Missile batteries one through four and ready and locked. Stations five and through seven are offline. Six through twenty-four are ready. Missiles are primed and hot. Final safeties release, on your order."

"Shields are building at eighty percent and rising."

"Good. It's time." They had to finish this now, while they still could. He had a bad, bad feeling about this.

Sheba gave Boomer the command. "Let's do it," she ordered.

"You heard the Commander," Boomer yelled. "Attack run!"

"One hundred-twenty microns to optimal firing position and counting."

The massive Battlestar, engines blazing full, began its arching run towards the enemy ship.
***

Two Gold leaders waited for the command to be given and on the bridge of the Cylon Basestar, an IL Series Lord waited patiently. If it could have smiled it would have. Four high-energy disruptors were trained on the Pegasus' bridge. They were prepped to cripple, not destroy. Humans hated to leave their ships crippled it realized. They would always come back to help their comrades. That was a particular failing of humans. The Galactica was thirty microns behind the Pegasus, beginning its own attack run also but didn't matter.

"Everything's in place. Ruination begins now," the Lord said. "Fire on my command."

"By the command." The gold Leader waited patiently to activate the weapons array.
***

On board the USS Okada, Roberta was worried. Her ship was small compared to the monsters she was preparing to face and that was something she didn't relish at all. This was becoming my own personal Kobayashi Maru, she thought. A nasty choice was forming this very second and she was going to have to make it. People rarely listened during the heat of war and here she was trying to make everybody play nice, and right now her chance of success seemed embarrassingly low.

"Mr. Patterson, are you ready yet?"

"Yes sir," he said quickly. "We can begin transmitting at your command."

"Good. Take us back to yellow alert," she said, assuming red alert might provoke further hostilities and that was the last thing she wanted at this point. And she was far enough away if either side wanted to start hostilities with her. "Hailing frequencies open." She took a breath. "This is the USS Okada, Captain..."

"Captain! Weapons spike targeting the lead battle ship! The double saucer just locked on and is charging its weapons," Patterson yelled. "Anti-proton signature, piggy backed on a sub-space carrier. The energy output indicates it's going to burn right through their shields. They won't have a chance!"

The massive lead human warship was apparently aware of the danger and was desperately swing to port. Its shields were powering up quickly in preparation to ward off the imminent attack.

"Warn them both off!" she screamed.

"Too late. They're firing."
***

Onboard the Pegasus, it came as a rude surprise as the Cylon warship was preparing to fire almost eighty microns before they themselves would even get into range to return fire.

"We couldn't even get close enough to strike. How'd they develop such weaponry, not to mention sheer power, without us detecting at least something?" The Commander didn't know who said that. Right now, it didn't matter.

"Worry about that later if there is one! Shields on full! Throw everything in except minimal life support!" The Commander's look of absolute horror was evident all over her face, even as she ordered the safeties re-established on the missiles. "Emergency evasive!"

"Oh, Frack! They've fired on us!"

"Sirs", the scanning tech screamed. "We can't evade this weapon. Scans indicate some type of anti-proton particle beam. We have sixty microns...forty...!"

Colonel Boomer was screaming as well. "Order all support craft to break away now! Secure fuel stores, emergency lockdown! Close blast shields and prepare for impact! Everyone, hold on...!"

The Pegasus' energy shield glowed bright green as she desperately attempted to defend herself. The massive Battlestar was turning to port when the disrupter hit amidships. The entire star field glowed white as a new sun blazed in the sky.
***

The crew of the Okada stood transfixed, as the devastating weapon struck the five-mile-long battleship. The force of the beam striking the shields caused the ship to perform a complete three hundred sixty degree roll. Shields were now non-existent, and there were energy discharges along the entire length of the ship. Several pieces of its landing bays along the port side were broken off the ship, the remains blackened and charred. Her massive engines winked out, causing her to tilt starboard at a twenty-six degree angle.

"Are there any survivors?" Roberta asked her science officer. She was appalled by what she saw, but that was quickly turning to anger. This was such a waste!

"Casualties estimated at sixty-three percent, Captain." He responded. "Life support is minimal and falling. They have about twenty minutes left before they lose it completely."

"Get me that saucer now," she snarled. "In fact, get me both sides." With one small ship there was little she could do at the moment but this slaughter had to stop and she intended to try.

In her most commanding voice she began her bluff. "This is Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation Starship Okada. You are trespassing in Federation space. You will cease weapons use, immediately. If you so desire we can act as negotiators in this dispute, but continued hostilities on either side will not be tolerated. Respond, now."

The smaller ships were still going at it but the larger warships seemed to be at a lull, for the moment.

"Both sides responding," Patterson announced.

"Good. Split screen. I want to see 'em both."

On the left appeared a disheveled male in his mid to late forties, with along with a much older, but distinguished, white haired male with a short pointed beard. They were both looking at her as though they'd never seen a woman before.

"Our translators are having a really hard time with their language," Patterson said. "I'm tying in the main computer banks but until they speak more, we won't be able to fully translate. It doesn't tie in with any Earth-based or Federation-based language, I know. In fact, it doesn't quite match anything I've ever heard."

If the beings on the left side were humanoid, what appeared on the right side of the screen was something else entirely. The head of this creature was oblong but completely jet-black except for the blood red eyes, which constantly moved within its sockets. Small energy spikes could be seen near its crown, where processors constantly analyzed its surroundings. Next to it was a silver-plated, seven foot, mechanical cyclopean effortlessly holding two Romulan prisoners, one male, one female, some fifteen centimeters off the floor. Whether they were alive or dead, she couldn't quite tell. But what amazed her was her own response to seeing these creatures. It was an almost visceral response in her hatred of it. It was very unbecoming of a Starfleet officer, she thought harshly.

"Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation starship Okada?" It had spoken in perfect Federation standard. Its voice sounded oily, like something you stepped in and couldn't get off your shoes, she decided. "I am unaware of such an organization," it said as Patterson subtly motioned for her attention.

Liar, she surmised instantly as she cut audio. "Spit it out."

"The Khe Sahn had a change of orders and is on its way here, ETA, fourteen minutes. There's also a Fed battle group coming here, ETA three hours."

"We're beginning to translate the human speech patterns," he continued. "Evidently they've been on the run from these other creatures for over twenty of their years after their civilization was butchered. More in a moment."

"Good. Restore audio."

"Who are you and why are you attacking this fleet?" Her voice was curt, bordering on frigid. She knew in her heart that this was the face of a new and deadly enemy.

"Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation starship Okada," the mechanical being said smoothly. Its voice had all the warmth of a murderer. "Your people have a penchant for names, Captain Roberta Ikata of the Federation starship Okada. We too have an understanding of the importance of names. I am called Lord Specter of the Poison Mist, member of the great Cylon Imperial allegiance."

"The beings we are chasing," it continued slowly as if talking to a child, "are the remains of rebels who have perpetrated foul and cruel actions against my people. For these actions, our people have demanded justice. An edict calling for the extermination of the life form known as Man has been issued. All members of this species are to be captured, interrogated processed and destroyed, with their remains returned to our home world for eternal display as a reminder of the price of defiance against our glorious race."

Robert and the rest of her crew were completely appalled by the casual statements spewing from this alien Captain. Her second-in-command had ordered everyone into full combat mode. Particle beam resistant vests, helmets and heavy type two phasers were being issued to the crew. Just in case. The recent war was still fresh in his memory.

The Captain didn't complain, in fact approved.

"You have members of the Romulan Empire being held illegally on your ship..."

"You mean these organics who dared to defy us?" Turning slightly the order was given and their necks and spines were snapped. Serenely, Spectre turned to face Ikata. "What organics? There are no 'Romulans' on my ship. Not alive anyway," it added dryly, moving closer to the screen. "You look like the species called Man. Are you Man?"

The question was asked innocently and far too casually to be anything but a threat.

Captain Ikata had had enough. "Cut communications with that thing, now!" The Captain snarled. "Red alert! They're coming after us. I can feel it! We need room. Call the Khe Sahn and tell em' we need them here yesterday. T'Proa prepare for warp maneuvering. Weapons, shields, online now!"

"Aye, sir."

Her instincts proved correct as several H-K's broke from their previous engagements with the Colonial fighters and warped towards the Okada.

"They're coming in. Four of them. More are following."

"Phasers, lock on," she snarled again. "Let's do it!"
***

The Cobra, which Boxey flew, had taken several major hits but by some miracle it still functioned well enough to defend against several Cylon Raiders attempting to use them for target practice. Five Cobras together, along with the faster Vipers were still a formidable force. But until the opportunity arose, they didn't dare approach the Pegasus for search and rescue. The Basestar was still in the area and with that ungodly range of his weapons; it would be suicide to even try. Despair gripped the fleet and them as well.

The Colonial war ships were converging two H-Ks when they simply accelerated away, vectoring towards the alien ship. Boxey stared, stunned at the ease that the Cylon ships moved.

They were playing with us, he realized. "Joliet, this is Boxey. They're breaking off."

"Confirmed. They're attacking the alien ship. Did you see how easily they jump into FTL?" Her voice sounded spooked.

"Yes," he answered. "We've lost a third of our fighters, possibly the Pegasus too. Then he added more soberly, "also, the Mining ship, the Tip barge, and the Tauranian cruiser have been destroyed," he sighed. "The Galactica's is moving towards the Cylon Basestar. We're going with it, too."

"And then what? What's the plan"? She asked accelerating with the fast forming battle group.

"We die with 'em," he whispered. There was nothing else to say.

The comms were silent.
***

Four Cylon Hunter-Killers converged on the small Federation starship, spraying disrupter fire, trying to burn through her shields. But the Okada was moving fast herself, burning through the shields of one H-K with its phasers, obliterating it and damaging another. The third and forth H-Ks coordinated their attacks, damaging the Okada's primary hull.

"They're using some type of shield ripper," Esdo yelled as a computer console blew from behind. "Evidently they want to keep us intact!"

"Too bad," Captain Ikata growled. "We have two bogies coming in at two seventy mark thirty-one. Take them out."

"Phasers firing...hit. Their shields held. Firing again...got them." The Raiders were easy. The H-K ships were something entirely. Two additional H-K's appeared seemingly out of nowhere, blasting at the Okada, severely damaging their shields.

The science officer froze for a second as he saw then realized what had just occurred. "Captain! Shields faltered for a moment and we detected transporters from the enemy ships. We deflected most of them but..."

Her first officer was on it. "Intruder alert! All hands prepare to repel invaders."
***

Two of eight Cylon Silver warriors that attempted to materialize inside the starship succeeded. With weapons built into their arms activated, the two immediately separated as one headed for engineering and the other the bridge. Their weapon of choice was the pulsed neutron disruptor, not especially destructive, but designed to be completely toxic to organic tissue. The first three personnel they encountered were immediately dispatched. Security barrier shields proved no obstacle as the first Cylon approached engineering. Six armed security personnel armed with type-two phasers set on heavy stun were waiting for them. The instant they saw the robots they attacked.

Two members of security died instantly from direct hits, their personal armor unable to protect them from the multiple neutron energy pulses they received.

"This is not working!" the security chief screamed. He'd barely missed being hit in the first attack and there was precious little cover in the hallways. "Full phasers, now!"

The four survivors hit the robot simultaneously with full phasers. The centurion staggered back two steps and returned fire, one arm and leg damaged but regenerating quickly. It returned fire. Three guards screamed as they were incinerated and the remaining survivor bounce along the floor as his legs disappeared from beneath him.

"This is Johnson!" He was wounded and dying and the Cylon ignored him as it rushed passed him. "Armor's refractive...hand phasers useless," he whispered, slumping over.

The Cylon slammed into engineering, its disruptors butchering every living being in its path. The personnel were in an absolute panic as the Cylon warrior attacked hitting everyone it aimed for. Three engineers attempting to escape were cut down, the neutron disruptions frying nervous tissue and breaking down organs. Purposely, it damaged the warp core, starting the beginnings of a warp core breech. Consistent with its programming, it moved methodically towards the primary computer array. It then proceeded towards the computer banks, physically connected to it and began downloading and processing, instantly sending data by way of its sub-space transceivers to the mothership.

Two engineers, now armed with compression phaser type-three rifles, hit the robot simultaneously with full power, tight-beamed blasts. The refractive armor held for three seconds before giving way, exposing delicate circuitry, which then melted and burned. The sustained blasts phased the robot out of existence. Unfortunately, the entire engineering room was in shambles. The warp core had been breeched and the two survivors desperately began the process of ejecting it before it blew.

Fortunately they had four whole minutes to complete their job and several other personnel coming even as they worked.

Meanwhile, the second Cylon warrior tore passed what little opposition there was and proceeded towards the transport tube and then to the bridge. However, before it could step into tube, some type of mobile rock-like substance came shambling towards it. The Cylon shot it several times to absolutely no effect. A second, larger rock came charging around the corridor directly at it. Impossibly, it leaped onto the struggling Cylon and began dissolving refractive armor. Desperately the robot tried to pry the Horta from itself, but the silicon-based creature hung on finishing its job. Only a small touch of vapor remained. The Hortas then rushed towards engineering to help in their own unique ways...

On the bridge most of the computer consoles were in shambles.

Somehow, the massive Basestar was suddenly in front of them, pounding away at their shields like some madden animal. The Okada was returning fire with everything it had at point blank range but the enemies shielding was holding, albeit just barely.

With a final volley from the Poison Mist, the Okada's shields went out like a light. Seconds later a tractor beam locked onto them, beginning to pull them in.
***

Captain Pat Duvalier along with the bridge crew onboard the USS Khe Sahn were livid. They were five minutes away traveling at warp nine point nine seven five, and they were still too far away.

"Captain, they have a warp core breech in progress. Our ETA, four minutes," Commander David Thompson hissed as he confirmed his analysis on tactical. "Oh no," he yelled, startled by what just occurred. "That large enemy ship just performed the 'Picard' Maneuver. They're right on top of the Okada, attempting to tractor them in!"

"Warn them off!" Pat was horrified by the beating the Okada was now receiving by the space station sized ship. Their shields were almost gone.

"No good, Captain. They'll pull them in estimated two minutes time!"

"Arm quantum torpedoes," Duvalier said quietly. She stood up and looked at the screen showing the Cylon Basestar. "Arm everything. Lock on to their bridge. Put every sensor, every torpedo, and every phaser, everything we have on that ship. I want them to know that we're coming in hot and nasty. I want their attention squarely on us. I want them prepared to fight for their lives, if they have any."

"Shields," she said. "Time to go war." But she knew that they were going to be too late.

She grimaced even more.

"Open a channel," she said, violently slamming her fist on her command chair. "Time to make my point..."

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-16 11:49am

Chapter 5

"Revelations"

One moment the Galactica and the entire defense force were bearing down on the Cylon mothership and the next, sensors indicated that the same ship was in two places at once. Their target had moved so quickly that it had left a 'sensor echo' of where it once was, to the absolute mortification of the Colonials.

They had also been shocked by the attempted communications from the strange ship. The occupants were human! Or, according to the scans, so close to human as to make little difference. They couldn't be absolutely sure because of the deflections of the scans by the ships screens. Comm frequencies with the saucer ship had been identified but communication was impossible at this point because their language was so 'alien' that translator programs had been so far unable to establish a pattern as of yet. Evidently there was also another of the unknown human-originating from Earth or the Eastern Allegiance, at this point they couldn't be sure- ships in the area and that female Commander was screaming, or more likely cursing, at the occupants of the Cylon Basestar through their vid link. The fast and dirty consensus was that this was very likely a matriarchal-based society they were dealing with. The Colonial officers were equally impressed by how well the little alien ship had defended itself against the Cylon H-Ks and Raiders. But it now seemed as though its luck had just run out. The ship was caught in some type of attractor ray, which was pulling it towards the massive hanger bays of the Cylon Basestar.

Now they were faced with a difficult choice.

They could abandon the Pegasus and try to help the saucer ship, which may or may not originate from a human based society-exactly the point of their entire journey-or try to defend the fleet against a now vastly superior foe. If they attempted to save the small ship, it would show an example of friendship, even kinship with these new people, even if they lost this battle. Because of the radical technology, it was more likely that this could be an Earther ship rather than Eastern Alliance and if that were true chances are they could help. If they were Eastern Alliance then they might still help. Maybe the civilians would still be protected if for no other reason than the fact that they now had a common enemy. If they however chose to protect their own fleet, allowing the sacrifice of the human starship in the process, then that would send an equally devastating message to these new people.

In the end, there was no choice at all. The long-term goals were propriety. The civilians were the society.

With the immediate threat to the Pegasus over, all Galactica shuttles were sent to begin evacuation of survivors on the Pegasus. Apollo ordered all attack ships on an intercept heading, at light speed, to aid the saucer ship. It would take seven centons to reach it before the enemy would be engaged. Not enough time to save the little spacecraft but enough to make an honorable showing.
***
"This isn't right," Boxey said through clinched teeth even as he accelerated to light speed. "We should be helping the Pegasus."

"No," his commanding officer said. "We help them, they'll help us...at least that's the plan."

Starbuck was next to him flying his own Viper. Nowadays, the Military wouldn't allow him anywhere near a Viper however, if they survived then he would be the liaison to this new group of people. Besides he had no intention of leaving these overzealous kids-even though Boxey wasn't a kid, being almost thirty, on their own in such a critical situation like this. He remembered his youthful exploits all too well for that to happen. "Remember attack as a group," he said over the comm. "Their speed and firepower are greater than ours but we can still turn faster and we have our imagination, so be careful."

The response was "Oh great," from at least half the crews. They were a lot tenser than even he had expected.

"Well, this way the Cylons can have moving targets to shoot holes into," Joliet said, apparently unaware that the comm system was still on.

Or was she?

These kids had absolutely no discipline or respect for commanding officers he thought. Then he laughed to himself. He dared not think of what was happening on his sister Battlestar.
***

Spectre of the Poison Mist was less than pleased with the results of his current mission. The Federation ship had managed to repel and destroy their Cylon attackers. The first and only warriors to board the vessel actually completed part of their mission before it the first one was rudely terminated by multiple phaser hits. The second survivor was eliminated by some strange rock creature, which attacked and 'ate' it. The silicon-based life forms dissolved hardened combat chassis like humans breathed air. Neutron disruptors were useless. That was an unexpected and very unwelcome surprise.

Now Spectre had intervened directly, attempting to tractor the Federation vessel into the hanger bay after beating it into submission. But apparently it wasn't submissive enough, as the starship fired all its remaining quantum and photon torpedoes directly into the docking bay, damaging both ships in the process. The human ship's shields, partially re-activated, were just strong enough to repel transporter beams-ins. Its warp engines were off line but their weapons were evidently still hot. Even with its enhanced armor plating and internal force shields, the docking bay was destroyed along with an additional fifth of the Basestar. The cybernetically enhanced Cylon warship was in pain, demanding that the human ship be destroyed as penance for the suffering it had just experienced. Spectre was forced to divert precious time and resources in order to calm the Basestar down before it chose to do something rash. Now the human vessel wasn't moving as it had succeeded in damaging the tractor beam array. Auto repairs would rectify that quickly, but in other area the internal systems sustained massive damage and would take time to for the ship to complete its recovery. In addition, there was another more powerful Federation ship coming in, loaded for bare. This new ship wouldn't be much of a problem. The Galactica strike fleet was also advancing but this wouldn't be a problem either. In fact none of this should be problematical it believed, but one had to be careful of humans, they always came up with surprises.
***

The Excelsior-class vessel decelerated violently, causing a large portion of surrounding space to glow brightly. Pat hailed the Basestar and practically screamed at the image that appeared on the viewscreen.

"This is Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation Starship Khe Sahn. You will cease your attack now or I will make you stop. This is your first and last warning." She glared at Spectre, arms folded, left foot viciously patting the floor.

"Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation starship Khe Sahn," the mechanical being began gaily. "Your people have a penchant for names, Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation starship Khe Sahn. We too have an understanding of the importance of names. I am called Lord Specter of the Poison Mist, member of the great Cylon Imperial allegiance."

"Stop. Your. Attack. Now."

Spectre moved closer to the screen. It's constantly moving optical sensors ceased. Its own eyes were locked squarely on the Captain's eyes, intent on staring her down. "Why should we, human?" it asked. "Your little, lonely ship won't stop me. The Colonial fleet won't stop me. Your so-called Federation of Planets won't stop us." Its eyes began moving once more. "We will destroy you and the Colonial fleet," Spectre growled. "We will then remove every vestige of man from this universe. For those not yet of the Cylon Empire, submission to us must be absolute. Do you submit?" Its eyes began scanning mode again.

"They've locked onto us with their disruptors," Commander Thompson whispered. "They're preparing to fire."

Pat smiled grimly. Now she moved closer to the screen. "Spectre of the Poison Mist, what makes you think that my lonely little ship is all alone?" she asked sweetly.

The instant she asked the question six Klingon warships ranging from bird-of prey class to Vor'cha-class starships de-cloaked. Together, the Alpha quadrant combine fired on the Cylon Basestar. Seconds later the Colonials arrived and added their firepower to the mix. The Cylon starship screamed its rage and resentment as it became one with its crew. The Commonality went on the defensive as multiple phaser, laser, disruptor, photon, quantum and solonite-class missiles tore into its shielding and armor plating. Already suffering from damage from the Okada's barrage, it was unable to regenerate quickly enough to prevent additional damage from the pounding. The explosion of the Okada's ejected warp core directly onto its shields was the final straw. It gave way, beginning to retreat back towards the neutral zone with only two of its four warp engines on line.

Two H-Ks, now defending the retreating mothership, attacked a bird-of prey severely damaging it before the combined firepower of four Adders blew the first one out of space. Another Bird-of Prey destroyed the second H-K before being surrounded by several Raiders. Quickly cloaking, it evaded its attackers and joined the fight against the Basestar.

The Colonials in loose formation concentrated on the smaller Cylon warships. Starbuck reveled in the sight, sounds and terror of returning to personal combat after so many yahrens. In the massive flashes that reminded him of stars being born and dying, he looked at his formation, which rapidly closed in on the sleek Cylon Raiders desperately defending their mother ship. Screaming in fury, he jammed his thumb on his Vipers' firing button, dimly aware that his entire fleet had done so already. The Raiders and H-Ks Deflector's shields flared brightly and disappeared under the withering fire. Nine Raiders incinerated under the assault.

Retaliating blow for blow against their blood enemies, several enemy ships, with their superior targeting and weaponry returned fire with a vengeance, disruptors, vaporizing an Adder, two Cobras and two Vipers. Against such power, Colonial shields and armor was rendered as useless as a sheet of paper defending against a cutting laser torch. A stunned Starbuck was about to call a general retreat when the Galactica exited light speed almost on top of them. Heavy weapons from the battleship tore into Cylon formations.

That tipped the balance. The Khe Sahn and the Klingon heavy cruisers, along with the Colonial fleet attacked and obliterated the remaining defenders.

The Cylon ship taking the advantage of the lull made a run towards zone barely achieving warp two. Spectre and the ship were banking on that imaginary line to save it from destruction.

Three Klingon ships immediately cloaked as if to follow, so that the Basestar would be unsure it were to be attacked again if it ceased its retreat. The massive Battlestar along with most of the remaining fleet, pulled away slowly, heading back towards the Pegasus. Commander Starbuck and Captain Boxey and Lieutenant Joliet remained closed to the Okada, comms open, trying to talk to this new, larger version of the first-what was assumed to be-Earther ship.

The Khe Sahn secured from battle stations began transporting medical and engineering personnel over to the Okada. Batteries were now the only things supplying power to the wounded ship. Her first officer had survived the attacks, suffering from several broken bones and a slight concussion. Captain Ikata, along with one hundred and nineteen members of her crew, hadn't.

"Captain, it's a mess over here," The Khe Sahn's chief medical officer said over his comm link. "We may to evacuate the ship until we get life support stabilized".

Her engineering officer broke in. "Captain, we'll be able to restore full life support in about twenty minutes. Most of the systems are in really bad shape but we'll se what we can do. We'll start re-creating the warp core after that, if we have the time."

"Do what you need to do," Duvalier responded. The Okada had come within a hair's breath of being captured by an unknown enemy, its crew prisoners of some kind of robotic race with obviously had no regard for human life or otherwise. Much like the Cardassians had been and probably still are, she thought bitterly. Roberta had been a friend, something she didn't come by easily. Now there was one less and that loss hurt.

Turning to lieutenant Thompson, "have we improved the Translation programs enough to talk to these people with some competence yet?" she asked. Thompson and Patterson had both been working on overcoming the language barrier and now he was smiling to himself as he answered.

Yes Captain. Translations over seventy-five completed. We can begin talks."

"Good. Open a channel."

"Captain, They're contacting us. It's one the smaller fighters still in the immediate area."

A human male she judged to be in his fifties appeared on the screen. He was a handsome male she thought, but years of stress and those scars had aged him physically far more than he should have been.

"Please identify yourself," the man said. "I am... Starbuck of the battle...Galactica. We come in peace... help requested...danger from.... Empire. All humans...hunted down and killed. We are looking for a planet called Earth.... Kobol...colony. Please respond."

Thompson looked apologetic. "That's as good as we can get for the time being. I'm working on it."

She nodded her head. "This is Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Starship Khe Sahn. Our translators are having a difficult time but we are making progress. Please continue talking as our computers are compiling a language database."

The man called Starbuck seemed to understand and began to rattle what seemed like his entire life story. True to Thompson's word, the more this man talked the better the translator systems interpreted his speech into Federation standard. Duvalier was astounded as Starbuck told the history of the twelve colony worlds inhabited by humans deep, deep in the Beta quadrant for thousands of, the actual word translated as, years. And that mankind actually originated from somewhere, some planet called Kobol.

She remembered from the history data streams, that decades ago, a Captain Hikaro Sulu had begun mapping the first edges of the Beta quadrant, just as the Federation had begun their first overtures of peace with the Klingon Empire, after they foolishly blew their moon to bits. Then the Cardassians started acting up, and one thing after another occurred and essentially exploration of that part of the galaxy was put on hold.

She wouldn't have believed this man if she hadn't seen the radical directions this technology had developed and those robotic entities first hand. At first she though that they might be some fantastic variation of Borg but that thought disappeared almost immediately as soon as the thing had started speaking. In addition, none of the ships quite conformed to anything in the Federation Database. Most of those fleet ships wouldn't have even been certified for deep space travel by any space dock she knew. However, if this were true, then these people were more of an offshoot of humanity than anything they've ever encountered so far in their exploration of the galaxy, outside the Alpha quadrant. The question was, was it true?
***

"De-cloak!"

The Klingon battle cruiser T'Hatru de-cloaked ten kilometers off port of the Pegasus. The entire crew (especially Captain Kagth) stood gaping at the primitive but undoubtedly impressive Human-made warship. It reminded them of the ships made in the Old Times, weapons everywhere, decades of battle scars covering the ship like a badge of honor. It was a ship of war. The Klingon crew saw only two long-lived ships of honor protecting their own from all comers-twin motherships protecting their loved ones.

"Humans made that!" There was admiration in that voice. Who it was that said the words didn't matter, because it was true.

Weapons Officer Klettoh had almost lost track of the number of weapons onboard even as he grunted his approval. These humans understood the beauty of war. There was no dishonor here in losing to a superior enemy, only the regret of the losing itself.

"Captain, there are many there who have received the final honor. Their ship is losing life support. They have no transporter capabilities. Their fuel source is leaking and is toxic to organic life forms. Terminal toxicity levels will be reached in twelve standard minutes."

"This is a rescue mission," the Captain growled. "Remember that all humans fear death. DO NOT give them final honor! Let them live! They may fear us but ignore it! They are humans after all."

"We have locked on to their bridge."

Kagth stood up. "Begin transports of survivors to the other warship. Transport me to the bridge now!"

The Captain and three guards materialized on the bridge of the Battlestar Pegasus. The bridge was a shambles as was expected and the usual number of bodies were there in their various poses of grimaced death. There was a woman survivor holding a dark skinned male human's head, probably some comforting ritual. Several other survivors were covered in bridge supports and the transporters would not work properly without crushing the survivors. Disruptors set in cutting mode would be inefficient, most likely causing more damage in the long run.

One Klingon warrior helped a tiny young woman to her feet. There was surprise but no fear in her eyes. She looked at him and gave him a smile that made his entire body grow a half-meter.

I could admire these humans, he thought in wonder.
***

On board the Galactica, personnel were almost in a panic as the injured from the Pegasus began appearing in dinning halls and medical stations all over the ship. The appearance of the vicious looking alien hunting ship turning off its camouflage net in front of them was shocking enough. And the visage of that fierce, wild-haired humanoid growling at them while trying to smile was more frightening than anything they had ever seen! Was this the ancestors of the thirteenth colony-like the Nomen? That old human adage 'be careful what you asked for' had slapped them all in the face this time.

At the Galactica's helm, Apollo was unnerved by the ease in which these Federation people and the other humanoids used transporters seemingly without a care in the world. The Klingon Captain had materialized on the Galactica with two slightly wounded engineering officers from the Pegasus. Linguistic translators were improving rapidly and the Alphan people insisted that the body wasn't disintegrated, merely broken down at a quantum level and reconstructed. It was still insane, even though its practicality was beyond dispute. The possibilities for abuse of this technology was disturbing, to say the least.

They were all looking at the live video feed coming from the Pegasus' bridge as Klingon, Federation and Colonial crews were attempting to clear the toxins from the damaged warship. He was uncomfortable yet grateful accepting help from these strangers. But...

But that was a moot point when compared to the living rocks running back and forth dissolving re-enforced metal beams and flooring on the Pegasus sampling bits here and there, as though they were some new kind of tasty sweets.

For a moment, the Colonials believe that these fantastic creatures may have been some robot or even bizarre genetic constructs of some kind. Not an independent, sentient life forms within this fantastic Federation.

Then one of them spoke, utilizing one of those micro-sized translators/communicator devices, it almost scared Apollo out of his skin. "This metal tastes so exotic," it commented, sounding like a connoisseur, which it probably was. It evidently also understood structure and design as well because it got to the trapped people without collapsing anything around it. As dangerous as the molecular acid the Horta produced was, its control was equally impressive. Several people flinched as they saw the Horta moved towards them, but the creatures ignored them opting instead to patch hairline fractures in bulkheads, sealing in precious air.

This area of space had so much life! And the variations were enough to keep zoologists and the biological science people swamped with work for generations. It was all kind of overwhelming.

"That's a nice...thing you have there," Apollo said to the Klingon humanoid, standing next to him. "They're very useful, apparently."

"Yes," the Klingon growled, admiring the Galactica's bridge. "They are gentile beasts but they are great warriors as well. The Hortas were going to a conference for silicon life forms. Even I wish to be at that meeting," he snarled pleasantly. "What do rocks talk about?" he asked, looking at Apollo as though he expected a coherent answer.

"Sirs," the Scanner tech said to Apollo and the President, her voiced raised slightly. "The Federation fleet is arriving."

"Put it on the screen," Apollo said. He felt excited, even with the potential loss of the Pegasus he was excited. Next to him his father was glued to the screen, wide eyed.

A total of twenty-two ships were transiting what they called warp space. Space for several hundred kilometers glowed as light and energy was released from those powerful ships decelerating into normal space. Superficially, all of them looked similar to one another. But as he and his people looked closer they could see apparent differences. Several were like the Okada and there were two even smaller than her. Two were identical to the Khe Sahn, but the majority looked like large saucers with engines and a couple of pieces attached as an afterthought. Then there were two larger ships, Galaxy-class the Klingon called them, which looked more like passenger liners than warships. But in the lead was the Sovereign-class Enterprise-E, the largest and unmistakably the most dangerous looking ship in this fleet. It was designed to present as little profile as possible and boasted a weapons systems that practically screamed the message 'don't screw with me'.

The Klingon Captain caught Apollo gawking at the specs being identified by his computer systems and grunted. "Independently targeted quantum torpedo banks, multiphasic shields, ablative armor, Ha! And they call that a 'Ship of Peace.' Humans here know how to build, too."

The ships formed a protective pattern that circled the entire fleet to about one point five light years distant, while the Enterprise came to a relative stop two kilometers from the port side of the Galactica. The Colonials-and Klingons also-gawked at the powerful yet graceful ship easing closer as though to dock and stopping a mere quarter metric like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was small, in fact very small when compared to the Battlestars, but little brother had teeth, a club and several other very sophisticated attributes.

In the medical bay on the Khe Sahn, Boomer wasn't doing at all well. Several of his vertebrae had been crushed and the internal damage to his spleen, liver, kidney, and lower intestines were extensive. Sheba was next to him, holding his hand, oblivious to her own injuries. The Khe Sahn's chief medical officer and the Galactica's chief medic Cassiopeia were frantically trying to stabilize him. He should have been dead but Federation medicine was more advanced than Colonial. Even so...

"How is he? Is he going to make it?" The pain and guilt in her face was obvious. She knew that it wasn't her fault but she felt responsible for him, the damage to her ship and the losses to her crew.

The doctor shook his head slightly, gently touched her cheek and moved on. She needed space and even Cassiopeia stayed some distance away. "Boomer, don't die on me! Not when we're so close to making it!"

He was conscious even if not completely aware. "Did we fight them off? Did we win?"

She could barely hear him. He was leaving her.

"We found the thirteenth colony, Boomer. They came to help us," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes so that she couldn't see. "Their ships are so beautiful and powerful, better than our old stuff any day."

He understood her and smiled. "The kids," he wheezed softly. He was no longer breathing, merely coughing now, looking up at something no one else on this side could possibly see.

The light faded from his eyes and he was gone.
First Deitra and now Boomer, she thought sadly, moving away from the bed and on to her father's station. Now there's only little Boomer and Therese. What am I going to tell them?

"I'm sorry, Commander," the doctor said softly as he closed Boomer's eyes. The man was very compassionate. She could see it in his eyes. "I believe however that your father is going to pull through. The operations we can perform will very likely cause a complete recovery. Your blood elements are slightly different from ours due most likely to genetic variation and drift. We'll need to synthesize blood for him. It'll take him some time to bounce back because of age and injury but he should be okay."

Sheba began crying, as the doctor smiled and held her gently.

Cassiopeia quietly moved away, carefully wiping away her own tears and she turned her attention towards her other patients.

But first...

"Hey, this is Cassie," she said quietly into her communications link she'd brought over. "I am sad to be the bearer of this news. I must inform the members of the Galactica, Pegasus and Fleet Comm, that Colonel Boomer has died of injuries sustained..."

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-16 11:51am

Chapter Six

"Just one big happy Starfleet"

To Apollo, President Adama, Commander Sheba, Sire Forsen, and Dr. Chia, beaming from the Galactica to Conference Room Two of the Enterprise-E, using their disintegration, re-integration transportation device with less than a point nine-two percent chance of error-and why did they have to add that-was simply the bravest thing they'd ever done. They expected disorientation. There was none. They expected to see something during transport. They probably didn't. However, one thing was secretly acknowledged by all of them. They'd try to avoid this experience from ever happening it again. These people took it for granted. To the Colonials, it was simply terrifying.

But it didn't really matter at this point. These people claimed to be from Earth! Once that news hit, the entire fleet was overjoyed at the confirmations; but the loss of almost four thousand people on the eve of this discovery muted the celebration. In addition, over seven thousand inhabitants suffered burns, the result of radiation exposure, electrical shortages and fire. Broken bones, blood loss, and blunt force trauma added itself to the mix along with three confirmed cases of stress-related breakdowns. Memorials had to be prepared and the many injured needed care from every source available. The Starfleet medical corps and facilities onboard these starships were excellent and many who would have otherwise have died survived their injuries. Plus the medics performed standard diagnostics that caught several conditions that would have become serious problems in the future.

Moments after they materialized, Captain Jean-Luc Picard greeted each one of the Colonials warmly. Small food trays were place strategically in the conference room, as there was no time for a formal dinner and reception. Several Federation Captains, Captain Kagth, Commander Riker, Consoler Deanna Troi and Lieutenant Commanders Geordie LaForge and Data were also present. Communications had been set up so that the Colonial Council of Twelve, the Klingon contingent and the other Captains could participate as necessary.

"I wish this could a celebration instead of a conference towards a possible prelude to war," Picard began. "However our situation dictates that we deal with this now instead of allowing it to continue to fester. Unknown forces have attacked a Federation ship and its crew. This same force may also be responsible for the conflict that is now occupying the Romulan forces. We need to know more about these Cylons and their intentions. So, Mr. President I will ask you to start."

President Adama looked around, his eyes finally resting on Picard trying to evaluate him. This Captain was a competent professional of that Adama had no doubt. There was maturity about this man, he thought. But there was also a hint to sorrow, of pain. And the younger woman with the beautiful, dark eyes constantly by his side, Deanna he had called her, had a presence about her that caused him to suspect that she could read him as well as he could read her Captain. He'd also felt her gentle touches in his mind, which he permitted. He could have blocked those mind-probes; military training from long ago had prepared him to be able to do this and more, but he decided against it, allowing her to scan freely. Besides he liked her.

Adama looked around and there were tears in his eyes, which he wiped Away quickly as he began. "Over twenty yahrens ago, our civilization was destroyed by a race called the Cylons. These beings were originally a lizard species, which created robot servants in humanoid form because they saw that our form was more efficient than theirs. They created these robots stronger and larger than us and soon became completely dependent upon their creations. Now, I realize that this is a somewhat simplistic answer," he stated quickly, "but details will be forthcoming later. For some reason that has never been made clear, these servants turned upon their masters and killed them all many thousands of yahrens ago. Eventually their machine aggression spread and they attempted to subjugate a people called the Hasaris. Our Government elected to support the Hasaris and this precipitated a thousand yahren war with these Cylons because we dared defy them. They could never beat us and eventually in our arrogance we believed we were unbeatable. But we were also tired of this unending war and when the Cylons presented the peace treaty to Commander Baltar, most of us jumped at the chance. We didn't know that Baltar was a traitor and our Battlestar fleet was caught unawares on the eve of peace."

"All but one, the Galactica. Our ship tried to defend the twelve colonies once we determined that they too would soon be under attack. We were too late. Defenseless, all twelve our planets and our related colonies were destroyed. We consisted of over forty billion people before the Cylon slaughter. We escaped with only two hundred and three ships filled to capacity with refugees, about three hundred thousand souls. We found the Battlestar Pegasus and a few others along the way, but have been running ever since looking for the thirteenth colony, called Earth."

"The Cylons programming imperative is simple 'kill all humans'. To them that was the entire point of the war and we failed to understand that simple fact. Now that we have found you, so have they. We've led them right to your doorstep."

"As you have no doubt heard," Picard responded, "all our studies indicate that humans originated on Earth. We have also confirmed that you are humans with different antibodies and genetic characteristics that are very unusual as compared our norms, but those unusual characteristics aren't that atypical.

"This is true," Data added. "And your case is not that all unusual. There have been several instances in which humans have been found outside the planet Earth." The Colonials were stunned at the news. As they quieted down, Data continued.

"Captain James T. Kirk found several planets which contained humans transplanted from Earth by a species we refer to as the Preservers. In fact, there have been two planets in this galaxy that have been found to be almost identical to Earth. Those humans there were also transplanted, but the planets were in essence terra-formed by some force we have not yet encountered. There may indeed be several more 'Earths' that we have not discovered yet. Why these planets were designed to mimic Earth-Prime is unclear at this time. But the indigenous people found there were clearly human and is therefore another example of a transplanted people."

"I can't agree," Apollo countered. "Our twelve planets weren't even located in this galaxy. Kobol was found in this galaxy in the area that you call the Beta quadrant."

"You claim to be from another galaxy?" Riker was shocked and a more than a little skeptical.

"I believe that our translators are not yet fully translating properly," Data answered. "Their word 'galaxy,' in the context in which they are using, it may not be interpreted correctly. If we present a map of were they have traveled we may have a better understanding of their use of the word."

"Very good. Make it so."

A three dimensional map, being generated from stellar cartography, appeared of the Beta quadrant. Adama pointed immediately to the very tip of the arm, which contained approximately one hundred thousand stars. "That's where our worlds were," he said. "Then we moved to there through the Great Expanse some twenty thousand light yahrens distant and found the planet Kobol."

"Twenty-thousand light years," Picard whispered, impressed. "I believe I understand."

"And how long did it take to get there?" Picard asked.

"About three sectons," Starbuck said. "Give or take."

"Three weeks!" Captain Kagth shocked, smiled even more, filled with admiration with these human warriors. "How?" he stammered.

"We normally use our light speed engines for FTL but for long distance travel, we utilize the tunnel-shift drive engines. We can detect what we call wave-space pockets which allows us entry into what we call transport tunnels in non-normal space. With this we can travel great distances but our accuracy is not as good as we would like. We can only travel in a general, straight-line direction that we choose before the jump."

"It is a form of transwarp drive," Data stated flatly even as Geordie nodded his head in agreement. "They have developed the ability to access transwarp vectors, which, in essence are residue or by-products of transwarp conduits, even though they have never developed warp drive pass the rudimentary sciences, as of yet."

"But each time they use it," Geordie continued, "they undergo temporal as well as spatial distortions. We found out that the Borg generate a chronometric particle field in front of their ships to keep time distortions to a minimum. Colonial technology doesn't include this protective field, so in essence they've been traveling a lot longer than twenty years."

"Yes, that's true. But, who are the Borg?"

"We'll discuss them later, Mr. President," Picard said preferring to hold off on that particular subject that for the future. "Please take a look at your point of origin on the star map. Your planetary system is here, isolated from the rest of the Beta arm cluster by this dark area here," he continued pointing at the three-Dimensional map. "What do you call this area?"

"That is our home galaxy," Starbuck announced.

"This is where the mistranslation occurs. You're calling that pocket of stars a galaxy." It was a statement.

"Correct. We also use the name galaxy for the entire galactic star cluster. It depends on how and in what context the word is used," he said.

"You, your planets and indeed the entire stellar cluster were completely isolated from the rest of the galactic arm. There is, in fact several isolated regions or pockets of stars in that area. You had to get past the Dark Expanse to reconnect to the main the rest of the galaxy. The only other area that you could have traveled to would have been here, which is in the center of that dark expanse, a jumping off point, if you will that leads to the galactic arm proper," he said pointing to the dark region imposed on the three dimensional map.

"Yes."

"And the Cylons came from the relative same area that your colony worlds resided?" Riker asked, confirming what most already suspected.

"In our region of the galaxy, again yes."

"And they've chased you all this time?"

"Yes. They're kind of one track minded on this, something to do with their programming," Starbuck said, somewhat sarcastically. "Look we need your help. We're running on empty fumes here. And they're your enemies as well as ours."

"That remains to be determined," Captain Picard said evenly. It was clear that this wasn't an irresolvable conflict between two warring people. He'd seen it before and understood that diplomacy had its place.

"Ah, Captain Picard," Captain Duvalier said coolly. "These Cylons attacked and killed a significant number of the crew of the Okada. In fact, I think they laid a trap specifically to disable and capture the Okada. We monitored the conversations between the Okada and the Cylons. They understood Federation standard and understood exactly what they intended to accomplish. The conversation was extremely provocative on their part. It was even more so with us. The Cylon base ship...?"

"Basestar," Adama corrected.

"Basestar," she said revising the word before continuing, "attacked the fleet then ignored the Galactica and the rest of the fleet to attack our sister ship. They could have destroyed the Pegasus but chose only to damage it so that the Okada would have to intervene. They could have used transporters onboard the Galactica and any other ship they wished and slaughtered everyone. But they didn't, because they didn't want to. What they wanted was the Okada, Federation technology, data on our defenses, strategies, and territories. You've seen our recordings and examined the Colonial records. I believe that they really want us dead, simply because we're human."

"Captain," Picard began, "your points are well taken and I understand what you're saying. But we have not declared war yet on this new entity. If we simply attack, then we may be exasperating the problem. I hoping to avoid another war," he continued. We must try diplomacy before we began shooting at them."

"With due respect," Captain Nashta of the Borallis chimed in, "I don't agree with you." He was young Betazoid who achieved his rank and considerable recognition during the Dominion wars. He was brash and a good representative of a new breed of Federation officer resulting from the war. "We may not have declared war on the Cylon Empire but they have declared war on us."

Look at us," he continued. "We're still in a so-called undeclared war with the Borg and we're keeping a serious eye on the Romulan Empire. And if you believe that the Romulans and the Federation are friends just because they came to help us during the war, then you're mistaken. You know how the Remans are."

"These Cylons have made their intentions perfectly clear," he continued. "The fact that we're here with a small fleet says that we're taking them seriously and that if we choose to negotiate, it will be from a position of strength. Starfleet is tired of constantly being on the defensive, all the time. Right now our situation is tense and our resources are strained because of the last war. We cannot afford to simply wait for the next attack and the next, and the next. Remember you were the one who initiated the coming together of this fleet in the first place. You must have recognized the threat," he said, finishing.

Picard hadn't expected this reaction and his anger was visible. Why couldn't Nashta and probably several others, judging from their expressions and Deanna's look of concern, understand that war wasn't the answer if peace could be maintained? More importantly was this wet-nosed kid lecturing him on diplomacy and the Prime Directive? "We are not at war with the Romulans and relations have been better with them now than ever before," he growled. "Of course, I am aware of what the Romulans are capable of, but we may have to help them in order to help ourselves. It's called enlightened self-interest. The Cylons are a new threat, which needs to be dealt with, but non-violently, if possible."

Captain Nashta was appeased in the slightest. "And what's going to happen when they find out that the Cylons were violating their territories to hunt Humans down?" He looked around answering his own question. "They're going to blame the Federation and our 'friendly' relations dill disappear like the wind, to say the least." The anger in his voice was evident and everyone could see the resentment plaster on his face.

"We will talk first to the Cylon representatives and then respond accordingly." Picard said tartly. He didn't like they way this conversation was going. This schism could ultimately cause difficulties in the future. And he hated being censured by this wet-behind-the-ears boy.

I've read your records on your first contact with the Borg, Captain," Nashta said evenly, his voice regaining some of the control. "They sliced your ship up like cheese before you even attempted to defend your ship. Your tried to disable that cube's deflector array rather than think of the safety of your own crew."

"Captain!"

"What I'm saying," he continued, "is that I don't want my crew placed in danger because of your need to over negotiate with what may turn into a serious threat to the Federation. We are the ones out here defending our people and I don't want to wind up fighting another defensive war."

"Nashta," Duvalier snarled, "You're out of line. Starfleet isn't a military organization. We're out here shooting at other folks because we're defenders of Peace, not aggressors. I have no compunctions about blowing the Cylons to hell and back but if that can be avoided, we should for it. Picard's experiences..."

Picard cut her off with a slash of his hand. "Captain Nashta," he began tartly, "Negotiations in peaceful contact with unknown species is a core reason why we are out here. Contrary to your assumptions, we're not the sum of this universe. Just because we're out here doesn't mean that the values we have are representative of everyone else. That point has been drilled into all Starfleet cadets from the day one. The Klingons, the Gorn, the Tholians, even the Cardassians are not simply inconveniences for our Great and Glorious Federation. We all share this galaxy. It's our responsibility to represent the best of ourselves, to explore and learn from the marvelous opportunities afforded us. We are not out here to shoot at everybody we don't happen to like.

"The Cylons..."

"Don't interrupt me, Captain," Picard snapped. This was getting out of hand and now he exerted his authority to quell this disagreement. "I'm aware of the threat the Cylons represent, even more so than you. But I will not precipitate a war with them until their actions dictate our course of action. We are a defensive force and we will act accordingly."

"And that's the reason we're having problems with everybody in the first place," he muttered as he looked at Picard, his eyes hard. "After all we don't want to star an unnecessary war. We need to talk to the Cylons." The man was defiant.

"Yes, we do."
***

The Colonial representatives were slightly startled at the hostility with seemingly erupted from nowhere.

"These people are almost as bad as we are," Starbuck said almost admiringly. "Haven't they seen what these new Cylons can do? Don't they know how dangerous they are?"

"No. And that's exactly the point," Adama replied quietly. "They're worse than ever but these people have their own problems. So, as a result, they don't fully understand the danger the Cylons represent. They seem more concerned about their enemies, the Borg things or whatever they call them and others in local space. This I can understand but I must impress on them as to what they will be fighting against."

"Besides what did you expect when we reached Earth?" Sire Forsen asked, jumping into the hushed conversation. "That these people would be perfect and have all the answers solved, just waiting for us?" Leaning over towards his delegation, "personally, I find it refreshing that they have freedom of expression. It shows that freedom is present here even in their military. But it's also true that they may inadvertently repeat history with the Cylons and this we must avoid at all cost."

"But how do we impress upon these people the danger they represent?" Starbuck asked, "Let the Cylons blow up one of their worlds?"

"Look," Apollo stated. "If someone came to our systems running away from enemies with the power of the Cylons, we would be skeptical also and, we would be cautious about starting any kind of conflict over a few thousand souls."

"The Cylons are their enemy as well."

"They don't know this yet," Adama replied.

"Well then," Apollo said, "let's clear this up right now." He turned to Captain Picard.

"Sir," he began, "the Cylons that just attacked us are not the same beings that we have been fighting and running from these past twenty yahrens. Even a fleet of Basestars would have proven no match for one or two of your starships. Your fleet assembled here could have overrun the combined power of the entire Empire, its colonies and us also, for good measure. But now, they're much more powerful than anything we've encountered before. And this seems to be a recent occurrence."

"If you look at the schematics," he continued, calling up a diagram of a Cylon centurion, "this is what we've been fighting." The diagram present indicated the internal representation a standard centurion. "Notice that the main computer processor is embarrassingly simplistic by your standards. They beat us not by tactical superiority, but by force of numbers and our own foolish obsession for peace with an untrustworthy enemy."

"But," he continued, "what we faced a few centars ago is a different construct altogether. They're far smarter, and more durable and their overall technology seems to have made a quantum leap over our, what used to be, similar technologies. They can now overwhelm us easily."

"Commander Apollo is correct." Data said. "We have a prisoner, a survivor from one of the small Raider fighter craft. It is in a maximum-security cell under a level ten force field. We were unable to de-activate its primary weapons system because it regenerated its internal weaponry each time we removed them. When it finally auto-reactivated we were unable to continue our scans, but the data we did get indicates that it is far more sophisticated than what is represented in this diagram we are presently seeing."

Data switched three-dimensional image to the security brig. The observers saw a Cylon warrior standing akimbo inside the security cell guarded by three security personnel in heavy armor, each carrying compression type-three phaser rifles. It single eye rotated serenely, taking in everything, revealing nothing.

"May I speak to it?" President Adam asked of Captain Picard. Picard gave him an affirmative nod and Data opened a vid channel directly to the cell. "Do you know who I am?" he asked.

The Cylon answered in its natural mechanical voice. "You are President Adama, Commander of the Battlestar Galactica, leader of the Council of Twelve of the rebel humans. You are to be scheduled for termination."

"Hardly, Cylon," he responded dryly. "You have tried but you haven't destroyed us yet."

"You and your humans would not be scheduled for termination if you would have submitted to Cylon rule," it responded. "Now that we are omnipotent we can afford to be generous. Surrender to us and we will show you mercy. You and your leaders will be executed, but the other humans will be allowed to live in controlled areas subjected to the will of the Cylon Empire."

"And how would you guarantee the lives of the humans of the Colonial fleet?" Picard asked. His eyes were dark and he was unusually curt in his question. This was not like talking to Data at all.

"The moon of Sepicor in the Beta quadrant will be terraformed for the human colony where they can be monitored and cared for by the Empire. All Colonial technology will be removed. They will convert to an agricultural society for the benefit of all concerned. This is the will of the Cylon Empire."

"And what if they choose to become something more than what you want them to be?"

"They will be allowed to submit a request for change." The Cylon completed the statement, said nothing more.

"Frack! You believe that? Starbuck yelled. "There's no way we'd allow ourselves to submit to their rule. They're liars! They want of all dead!"

"Indeed," Picard said. He activated his comm. "Mr. Angaa, where is the location of the nearest Cylon Basestar?"

"Three point two light-years in the Romulan neutral zone. It's the same ship that attacked the Okada. There are two other similar ships supporting it."

"Good. Open communications with it." He turned towards President Adama asking him to join him in this conference.

"Yes Sir," came Angaa's answer. "I..." he stopped almost immediately.

Sir, we have a general alert! A transwarp conduit has just opened in sector zero-zero-one. All ships in the area are converging. It's a Borg signature sir!"

Captain Picard and the other Federation officers hissed in dismay. This was the worst of times to have them to contend with. The problem here demanded immediate attention. But the Borg...

"At maximum warp nine it would take at least three hours forty two minutes to reach Earth," Data said. Then he added, "It seems we have done this before."

"Mr. Angaa, put Starfleet frequency one-four-eight-six on audio and pip it through to the conference room now!"

"Aye, Sir."
***

"What's happening?" Sire Forsen asked Apollo, Starbuck and the
President.

"One micron, we're about to communicate with that Cylon Basestar and the next, its like they've forgotten all about us. Are the Borg that dangerous?"

"And if they are, should we even be here in this section of space?" Starbuck added.

"I don't know," the president answered. "It's the enemy you know verses the enemy you don't. There's so much we have to take in consideration."

"Sir, another message," Mr. Angaa said quickly. "It's a Borg sphere...Federation ships have opened fire....the sphere is still coming...wait! Something just happened to the sphere. It's self-destructing. So is the conduit!"

"Self destructing?" Riker said. "Did our ships manage...?"

"Sirs! Everyone!" the communications officer said excitedly. "It's Voyager! She blew up the sphere. From the inside! She's home!"

"Voyager destroyed the sphere? How?"

"It doesn't matter," Picard said smiling like everyone else. He'd have to have a long, long talk with Captain Katherine Janeway at the earliest available opportunity. But right now he had another priority. "Mr. Angaa, will you please carry out my last order now?"

"Ah, yes sir," he said flushing slightly. "Opening a channel now." A few later he added, "they're responding."

An Image appeared. It was Spectre. "Yes," it said quaintly. "How may I help you human?"

Picard looked at the Cylon image and his hackles rose. The entity was completely robotic as he'd been told, but even he could sense the coldness radiating from it.

"I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise. We are trying to seek a peaceful resolution to this dispute that has recently occurred," he said putting on his best diplomatic face.

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise?" the mechanical being asked sarcastically. "I see a pattern here for a penchant for names, Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise. We too have an understanding of the importance of names. I am called Lord Specter of the Poison Mist, member of the great Cylon Imperial allegiance. Why is it that you have attacked my peace-loving, exploration ship, destroyed members of my crew and in general attempted to provoke a war with the Cylon Empire?"

"It doesn't sound like a robot to me," Riker whispered to Starbuck. "What kind of programming does this thing have?"

We have no desire to provoke a war with your people," Picard continued. But you did attack our ship and killed several members of the crew," he said in his best diplomatic voice.

"We felt threatened," it replied smoothly. "Captain Roberta Ikata demanded that we cease and desist in defending ourselves against the cruel aggressions of the Battlestars Galactica and Pegasus. We couldn't do that in all good conscience."

The creature was a liar, Picard realized. Deanna wasn't needed to help him make this determination. His own gut feelings were sufficient.

"Do you speak for your people?" he asked.

"Do you speak for your people, Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise?"

Picard sense that Spectre was enjoying trying to irritate him. But he determined that it wouldn't work. "Yes I do."

"Well, I won't," Spectre replied ever so slowly. "But I will have you speak to the Imperium Supreme and he will convey the will of the Cylon people."

"Imperium Supreme? Not Imperious Leader?" Apollo said quietly in the background. "What is going on here?"

Col. Crackpot · Post by **Col. Crackpot** » 2004-08-16 04:49pm

i hereby command all to read. because he has something like 60 more chapters in four complete fics.

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-17 03:30pm

Chapter Seven

"Conversations with a Cylon Lord"

Spectre's image faded to be replaced almost immediately with the image of a supremely bizarre, three lobed mockery of an organic being. Its five sets of optical sensors were dark red and pulsating slowly. Behind it were six Imperial guards, at first appearing similar to the prisoner they were holding, but upon closer observation they appeared subtly different. Unlike that silver plated Cylon these were of a dark golden hue with dual rotating eyes. They radiated power and a malevolence that actually frightened Picard and the others watching the image. The heavy weapons in their possession reminded Picard and the crew of small cannons able to punch holes through the hull of the Enterprise with ease. There were also several Cylons that looked similar to Spectre, attempting to generate an appearance of being simple administrators, and failing miserably. But the dark golden warriors were riveting. Every single one of them looked threatening.

Those are his personal guards Picard realized. This entire setup is for our benefit, a form of intimidation. They knew we wanted to talk. The overall vision was impressive and it would have worked on someone else. But he'd been tortured by the Cardassians, assimilated by the Borg and strung out to dry by his own guilt after Wolf Three-Five-Nine. Next to that, few things truly intimidated him anymore. And that was one of the things that frightened him most.

"I am the Imperium Supreme," the Leader said, its voice portraying both royal authority and sinister intent simultaneously. "Speak human."

Adama and the other Colonials hissed upon hearing the voice of their hated enemy.

Meanwhile, Picard himself bristled slightly at the leader's insolent tone. "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation starship Enterprise and I represent a league of worlds whose territory your ship has violated," he stated plainly. "You have attacked and damaged a Federation starship and killed many members of that crew. You have also damaged and destroyed several non-combatant starships carrying civilians inside Federation territory during the same altercation. This could well be interpreted as an act of war. However it is my wish that we settle this before it escalates into a situation that we would both regret."

"Human," it began, sounding as though it had decided to grant some magnanimous boon. "For over a thousand of your years we have been at war with the Colonial humans in the Beta quadrant as they continually mistreated and violated the will of the Cylon race. We won the war and now in our galaxy, we are supreme. There is absolute peace among the races guided by our benevolent rule."

"Did the Colonials tell you," it continued, "how they destroyed the planet Carillon along with an entire species called the Ovions simply because they wished to escape us? Did the Colonials tell you how they abandoned over thirty smaller fleets containing their own people in order to simply escape? Did they tell you of the rules of war, that the loser of said war should be exterminated in order that peace would prevail?"

By the intonations in his voice, the entire crew and the other spectators immediately understood that this alien was enjoying giving this little history lesson to the unworthy. The intent was to incite fear. But it didn't produce fear as it intended but it did produce disgust-and hatred, galvanizing and wedding the Federation to Colonials in ways the Supreme Leader of the Cylon race never intended.

"What other fleets?" demanded a shocked Adama. Until this moment neither he nor his people had imagined that others had attempted-and actually succeeded! - in getting away from the holocaust that ensued just after the defeat.

"Yes, Adama, " it responded in that hated voice. "Several fleets that never rendezvous with your Galactica coordinates, in time, were exterminated. They ranged from a three-ship convoy to one of over six hundred. The Alliance expended almost two yahrens to eliminate them all. It took much time and effort to track them down, with resources, I might add, that took our full attention away from you. We were fortunate to eliminate ninety-eight percent of the human fleet, over twenty three hundred ships scattered throughout the former Colonial territories. Now we, the Cylon people are finally putting an end to the war by the extermination of the life form known as man, so that peace may prevail."

The Colonials bristled at the comments but said nothing. But the guilt and horror of what was told them hit with the same impact an asteroid would, hitting a small moon. Never had they imagined that almost an additional two thousand ships had escaped the Cylon extermination net! And none of those who had attempted to flee survived.

Only them.

"This costly and terrible war will end only when you give the Colonials and the Battlestars Galactica and Pegasus over to us along with the heads of its officers and the criminal Adama. And of course the three hundred thousand fleet members will be turned over to us," it added.

"This is a small price to pay when considered against the billions that will cease to function if there is war among us. We also claim the heads of the crew of the Okada and the Khe Sahn as recompense for the damage they have perpetrated against my Basestar. Do this and there will be no war between our people. The species called man in the Alpha quadrant will live in peace with the Cylon people. This is a perfectly honorable agreement. Accept it and live in peace."

Everyone who heard the Imperium Supreme were horrified and disgusted, the Colonial representatives because it was possible that these Federation people might actually consider this agreement; the Federation representatives were disgusted that this proposal was even made.

Picard's face was flushed as he prepared his answer. "Neither of those proposals are acceptable," he said simply. "We will not give them over to you and we will not sacrifice our people for your appeasement. If you choose to try to take them by force we will resist you with everything we have. Please take that into consideration," he said coldly.

"Then take this into consideration, Captain Picard," it retorted. "Our war will be, of course, extended to you. The entire point of the war with humans was for the elimination of the life form known as man. By your attitude you have proven yourselves blood of their blood. You are of a kind. I must assume this war will now continue until we have achieved our goal." The screen faded to black.

Next to Picard, President Adama was stunned, not only by the words, but because he'd recognized that hated voice. "Count Iblis," he said quietly, barely wishing to voice that vile name.

Apollo eased next to him, equally stunned. "Father isn't that..."

"Yes." Adama realized the implications immediately.

"Does that mean that he somehow programmed the Cylon Imperious Leader so long ago?"

"I don't know," his father replied. "But it makes so much sense now. And maybe even more so now because that may explain the changes in our old enemy."

Beside them Captain Picard was frowning. It was clear to him and everyone else who monitored the conversation that the Supreme Imperium wanted this war. He half- way suspected this exchange would end this way. But the response of the Colonials towards their enemy surprised him slightly as he realized that they'd never seen the face of their adversary before. But even more so was the fact they seemed to recognize the voice moreso than the actual face of the enemy. "Who is this Count Iblis?" Picard said interrupting them.

"An extremely powerful, ancient being, far more advanced than anything we could imagine. From an evolutionary standpoint, he is as far above us as we are above bacteria or so he would like us to believe. We came in conflict with him. To put it simply," Apollo continued, "he lost and promised revenge upon us many yahrens past. I've never heard the Imperious Leader much less this Supreme Imperium speak before, but the voice is unmistakable. I believe his hand is in this entire situation."

"Well, I heard him, the Imperious Leader, I mean once," Starbuck said. "But I didn't make the connection, even though now it's obvious."

"You could call him the Devil." Starbuck looked at Picard and the others trying to gauge their reactions. Speaking of devils to those who never experienced them seemed ludicrous and he was weary. But they had to know what this creature was, just in case. He was surprised when the Federation didn't react with skepticism.

"We've had our own devils also." Dr. Beverley Crusher whispered, speaking for the first time. "Actually, more like a constant pain in the butt," she said unconsciously rubbing her hip area for emphasis. Starbuck forced himself to avert his eyes.

"Q," Riker said.

"What's a Q?"

"Another one of those so-called omnipotent beings that just loves to play with us mere mortals."

"Q," Picard echoed. "He's playing games with us again." He actually sounded disappointed.

"Or maybe not," Beverley replied. "I really think he was trying to warn us. We all saw how he was this time," she said her mind drifting back to that previous meeting. "I don't think this was one of his games."

"But at this point it really doesn't matter," Riker said. He looked at the Colonials. "Is it true about the planet Carillon? Did you destroy the planet? And what about those other ships? You just left them?"

"Directly no, indirectly yes," Apollo snarled. "We had no clue concerning the others. And I don't like the implication in your voice, Commander Riker. You weren't there. You don't know what the situation was."

"You're right," Riker countered. "We don't know and that's the point. That's why I'm asking the question. I would like to know exactly what happened."

"I'll tell the story," Starbuck said jumping in, half stunned and half-amused that he, not Apollo was the one playing the mediator instead of being the one about to place his foot in his mouth. "Short version. After we lost the war we fled to Carillon for fuel extracted from a mineral called tylium. Obviously, we were going on a long, long trip. Once there, we found a casino full of humans and other aliens who had no idea what had just happened to the colony worlds. What was worse was that many of our people wanted to stay there and enjoy themselves. They were acting like nothing had even happened. Why, I don't know," he said totally perplexed about that, even after all these years.

"I've come to the conclusion," President Adama continued, "that most of our people never believed that we actually were in a wartime situation and that we faced extinction. The reality of it all never really touched them. The concept of extinction was simply too alien a concept for our people to accept."

"There have been many cases like this," Deanna added quickly. "On Earth, the eastern European Jewish population during the mid-nineteen hundreds, largely ignored the events around them, until a maniac called Hitler systematically exterminated a very large portion of their population. Many of them truly couldn't believe that someone could truly do things like that to them. Your people were well sheltered, protected. For the most part the Cylons were most considered as an abstraction, something that existed far, far away. When that abstraction became a horrifying reality, most people still couldn't comprehend the realness of it all. Like so many others in our quadrant, it was disconcerting to look truth in the face."

Yes, probably true Starbuck thought. When he had time, he'd contemplate those words from that oh-so beautiful woman. "Anyway, we found that the native Ovions were using the casino as a front for the Cylons. They were using our people as a living food source for their young! Apollo and I, and Boxey and our chief medic Cassiopeia, who we saved from the feeding chambers, got into a major firefight with the Cylons in the caves below and ignited the tylium deposits. The chain reaction eventually destroyed the planet. We lost so many, many people down there. By the way." He added, 'the Cylons were laying in wait for us. But we fought our way out. Details later if you need it, Commander Riker," Starbuck added sarcastically.

"They have been tracking and harassing us ever since," Apollo added. "We couldn't stop, or settle down or even make serious long term contact with other races because no one we encountered had the capability to withstand a Cylon attack. They almost caught us several times but we always escaped. Sometimes we would have a couple of yahrens peace. That's how we had time to develop some of the offensive fighters to aid in our defenses. But now..."

"Now they're stronger than ever and we don't know why," Sire Forsen finished. "Their technology is a quantum leap over anything we've previously encountered.

"Well, they've made their intentions quite clear," Picard said quietly. "The question is what are going to do about them and you? What is it that you want?" he asked with an official aire. Plainly it was a signal for the Colonials to 'officially' ask for asylum.

President Adama turned to Picard and the other officers in the conference room, took a breath and started. "Well, we, the remnant of the Twelve Colonies, original descendents of the planet Kobol, formally ask for protection of and sanctuary in the territories of the Federation of Planets. We request that you take us in as refugees and it is our hope that we will be allowed to settle on a planet within protected Federation Territory or that we be allowed to relocate to Earth, the home of our human brethren. I understand the political implications of these actions and the problems we bring, but I hope we can achieve a goal of protection for all concerned against both our enemies and yours."

"Your proposal will be recorded and sent to the Federation for review," Picard announced formally. "I don't foresee a problem." Then he smiled as he spoke. "Frankly at this point, we have refugees relocating everywhere. The war has upset many lives and many inhabitable planets within the Federation are being colonized as a result. Your three hundred thousand people should not present a problem and you'll have the choice of going just about anywhere you wish. First however, we need to remove you and your people from this area."

His eyes became distant as he continued. "I have found that the machine mentality never forgets," he said as his crew watched him carefully, understanding the import of his words. "And, it will find some way to fulfill its function even if it's illogical, one way or the other."

Starbuck, Apollo and many, many others were stunned into silence at the news that Boomer had died onboard the Khe Sahn. Another loss of a precious friend that had been with them from the beginning of the epic journey that they had almost completed was Athena's, Apollo's younger sister, comment. The total loss of lives including crewmembers of the Okada exceeded fifteen thousand people. Instead of a time for celebration it would be a time for mourning. Starbuck, using the Enterprise's transporter (something he'd swore he'd never do again about two centars earlier), beamed over to the Khe Sahn to meet up with Cassiopeia in sickbay. They had been close at one time and they still were but he waited to long, played with commitments to fast, to loose and the moment passed them by. It was his fault and he knew it and in realizing this he felt the guilt at night when his dreams tried to justify his actions. The moment had indeed passed them by, but his heart hadn't truly accepted it, especially now when she was so close that he could smell her perfume. He remembered when the simple sound of her voice would almost send him over the edge. But now, he pushed those memories back as he saw the tears in her dark brown eyes. She needed him now, needed his strength for support.

"We were so close," she whispered. "We could have saved him if we could have gotten to him sooner. The equipment here!" The doctors and sickbay on the Khe Sahn was magnificent and miracles could be performed here but Boomer had been beyond even their advanced capabilities. "We saved so many. But not him, not him or the others."

"I'll miss him," he whispered also. "He was my," he stop, correcting himself. "He was our friend. Cassie was crying and that part of him that never let go simply snapped. Before he realized it he'd grabbed her and held on like nothing he'd ever held before. "He will be remembered and little Boomer and Therese will want for nothing." That sounded so fracken formal he thought.

"Starbuck, is that all you can think of to say?" Her voice was full of bitterness. The confused look on Starbuck's face confirmed to her that he had no clue as to what she trying to convey to her great and almighty warrior. "Why are you even here, Starbuck?" Certainly, it wasn't for me," she said pushing him away. "You always come trying to save me, trying to comfort me. And you always manage to do that. Then when I think there's hope for the two of us, you leave."

"Cassie, I..."

"Starbuck," she whispered. "As a warrior you're always there to save me. The Colonial service trained you well. But when I needed you as a man, you ran like a scared daggit. What is your problem?" The woman was crying now and it had very little to do with the death of Boomer and everything to do with Starbuck. "We're both older, matured adults now and our whole lives together has come to nothing. Why did I waste time my time with you? Why did you make me waste my time loving you?" Quickly she turned towards another patients, trying to keep the tears from overwhelming her.

"Look," he retorted, "what could I do? Every time I went on a mission, it could have been my last. I didn't want to Seal with you one day and leave you a widow the next."

"Liar," the blond medic responded matter-of-factly. "Everyone else Sealed, including Boomer and Deitra and you know how they fought with each other for yahrens. But they had two kids and a wonderful life," she said as the tears began flowing again. "But we have nothing. And we both know why, don't we? I should have stayed away from you!"

The truth was, he enjoyed his freedom and being Sealed meant responsibility... and the realization that he was growing older now, passing the baton to the next generation. He wasn't ready for that yet. "Woman, what are you talking about?" he said, feeling very uncomfortable about where this conversation was going.

"The Great Starbuck never wanted to be Sealed to a Socialator. I was always good enough to be around but never good enough to be with."

"OH, PLEASE!" he screamed, causing several patients and doctors to look at him disapprovingly. "My mind never even when that direction," he snarled, quieter this time.

"Starbuck, I love you so much," she said. "But you're always searching for the perfect woman and I simply don't fit that in that equation. And I guess I never will," she added, plunging the knife in as much as possible. I'm tired of all these games you play. Please stay away."

Enraged-and terrified, he stormed out of sickbay, leaning on the nearest bulkhead he found. Inside he was raging. Talk about guilt trips, his mind screamed. What has she done to me? What am I going to do now? More importantly, what should I do?

A few moments later, he went back into sickbay and dragged her out towards someplace quieter. This wasn't over yet. He intended to get in the last word here. Even if it rose up and implanted it's teeth deep into his butt.

Onboard the Enterprise-E, Apollo and his father found Commander Sheba in Ten-forward. Just a touch earlier, both men had talked with the crew of the Okada, and the Hortas, thanking the rock creatures and expressing sorrow to the crew for the loss of their Captain and other crew members. She almost didn't recognize them as she continually stared out the window towards the Pegasus. It was stabilized now and several ugly gashes had temporary seals, but still, the horrendous damage was very evident. Four inertia dampeners were now attached to the stern in preparation for towing. The Okada was rapidly moving off into the distance, being tractored by another frigate to Starbase Thirty-Two.

Silently, they stood behind her. Nothing needed to be said.

"I couldn't stop it," she said finally breaking the silence after more than a half centar. "I allowed my fathers' ship to be destroyed. I killed all those people. I got Boomer killed."

"No," her husband responded. "We couldn't stop the Cylons. They're more powerful than we could have imagined. But it wasn't our time to die. You, no we," he corrected, "did what we could. And we found the earth people. And that counts for a lot."

"But my ship is gone, my people dead," she said. Her voice sounded like the echo of an open grave. "I can't go back. How can I face them? I can't do that."

"Sheba," Apollo said softly. "The Pegasus survived. You know that." Then he turned somber as he continued speaking. The despair in his voice was evident enough to give his wife pause. "We discovered that there were more than two thousand other ships that tried to make the rendezvous with the Galactica. I don't think any of them made it to safety. If we had only waited a little longer!"

Sheba looked at him. "I didn't know." Instantly her concern transferred itself from herself to her loved ones. "There was no way you could have known. And even if you did, you couldn't have done anything to help them."

"We were responsible for them," her husband said despairingly.

"But you and the others are alive," someone said from behind, who begun offering them all some type of chocolate flavored, sparking nectar. "And ultimately, your sacrifices and determination have brought you and your charges to safety," she continued. "If you really think about it, you shouldn't be here at all."

Maybe these people didn't fully understand proper protocol when it came to private conversations. "Who are you?" Adama asked of this dark skinned woman who had so rudely interrupted this most private of moments.

"My name's Guinan and I'm the temporary Bartender here," she answered with a matter-of fact smile.

"I'm sorry. This is a private conversation," he said. He tried to be polite but he was in no mood for a servitor to horn in on this most delicate of conversations at this most delicate of times.

"Of course, it's private," she answered, ignoring the hint. "That's why you're all so miserable on the eve of the greatest experience in your life. What you need is a different perspective," she said. "Think about it. You've brought a new war to the Federation. And these strangers," she said pointing to Captain Picard and Commander Riker who were just entering the room, "these people have embraced you and will do everything in their power to protect you. They don't know you yet, but they're about to put their lives on the line for you people. That, in itself, gives you an idea as to how they are and what they stand for."

"Some of them have a strange way of showing it," he muttered. Apollo, still smarting from the earlier talks, looked at Riker. Riker returned the gaze with a smile that seemed to indicate that there was and had never been a problem.

"It was his way of feeling you out, finding out just where you stood." Guinan said.
"After all, at this very moment, no one group really knows the other, yet."

"Wait a minute," Apollo snapped. "How did you know what happened?"

"I'm a bartender. That's what I do," she answered, smiling even more.

There was something about this woman, they all realized at once. She may be pretending to be a servitor but was more likely security.

"What else do you know, Guinan?" Apollo said, trying to feel her out. The instant he said that he winced. He had been as subtle as a Cylon trying to sing and dance.

"That depends on whom I'm talking to," she said sweetly. "I've heard about your people and I can relate to the experiences you've had very easily."

"I'm sorry, you have no idea what we've gone through," President Adam said, his eyes glazing as he remembered all the pain and sorrow of the past twenty yahrens.

Captain Picard and Riker came over and joined the impromptu conversation. Both men were silent, learning years ago not to interrupt Guinan when she was in 'teaching' mode. Riker simply grabbed one of the chocolate drinks, slurped some down loudly and smiled innocently at Apollo. His eyes almost seemed to say I'm sorry, but I had to know. At the same time there was something defiant about him. He struck Apollo as a man completely used to ordering others around and having them do it.

Well, so was he.

"Actually, you've had it good, relatively speaking, Mr. President," she countered. Many of your people are still alive after you ordeal and your culture is still relatively stable. I imagine that you believed that once you found Earth, your problems would be solved. Well, I suggest that you change that belief."

"Listen," she continued, oblivious to their withering stares. "What's left of my people are scattered across this galaxy with very little hope of getting back together. Our enemies, here we call them the Borg, tore through our system and there was little to nothing left of my people when they moved on. They make the Cylon Empire; as you've known them, look puny by comparison. As I've said before, you people have had it easily, relatively speaking. At least they had the opportunity to simply die and not suffer a existence of a soulless automation."

"Okay," Apollo said frustrated. This, this bartender actually intimidated him and for the life of him he couldn't understand why. "Everybody here keeps mentioning the Borg. Just who are these Borg everyone seems to talk about?"

"They're our analog to your Cylons, but worse." Picard said. His looks produced some dubious stares from the Colonials. "They're cybernetic organisms, part organic, part machine which exists as a hive mind. They are very, very advanced. Their purpose is to assimilate cultures into their collective. They take everything, the mind, the body, and the technology. You are forced to become part of them. Your own wishes are irrelevant, so to speak," he said smiling grimly at his private joke. "Their ships are mostly cubed and oval shaped and they sweep through entire systems destroying everything in their paths. We've fought them on several occasions, each time just barely defeating them. They even attempted time travel to change the history of the Federation. They are a plague on our galaxy - a plague that needs to be stamped out.

Picard had a haunted look that the Colonials had seen far too many times. The fight between him and the Borg was very, very personal. Why? It didn't matter because they understood and could respect those feelings. These Borg were obviously something they were glad they hadn't run into during their travels.

"Given time, they adapt to all offensive and defensive weapons and tactics," Riker continued. "They respect no one, but those who are more powerful than they are and even then... Everyone else is considered something they can consume."

"Maybe they'll consume the Cylons," Sheba said half seriously.

"Maybe," Riker commented. The thought of the Borg assimilating anybody disturbed him. Besides they've consumed enough already. "But nothing is ever that easy."

"Tell me about it."

Everyone sat down in one of the booths Guinan had guided them to. It was quiet and isolated-as much as a room filled with people watching everything you did could be- and the seats were comfortable. Once seated, Guinan quickly moved on to her other customers.

"I didn't know that humans had spread so far in the galaxy, Adama said to Picard. I'm amazed that there are so many human colonies in this section of space. Were you able to find and help Guinan's people?"

"Yes, rather her people found us" Picard answered. "But Guinan isn't human." President Adama, Apollo's and Sheba stunned expressions made him smile slightly. "Not everyone here is of human stock."

Sheba was beginning to pull out of her depression, slightly. She suspected that it had something to do with this dark colored drink she kept ingesting and the conversation. "Then what is she? She looks human."

Yes, curiosity was getting the better of her, Apollo noted. Good.

"Her species is El-Aurian," Riker responded. "She's from a very ancient race whose people cruised the stars while my people were still trying learn how to write."

"I just can't believe this," she responded. "This is so much to take in."

"Yes, it can be a little over whelming," he said. "I have someone I'd like for you to meet. Her name is Lieutenant Commander Deanna Troy." Then he turned to Apollo. "Earlier, I needed to know where you were coming from."

"I understand," he answered quietly. "By that same token, I need to know where you and your Federation are coming from. My people are important and I have no intention of having them swallowed up by some alien culture, human or not. Everything I've studied about you seems to be pretty good, but I have to be sure also before we commit."

"I understand and I approve of your caution. It's exactly what I'd do if I were in your situation. What do you need to know?"

"What was the fight in the conference room about between you," he asked pointing to Picard, "and Captain Nashta about?"

Picard chose to answer, his face slightly flushed. "During the recent Dominion war his planet, Betazed was attacked and overran by Jem'Hadar shock troopers. The damage to the people and the planet itself, was horrendous. Now, there are many of those who believe that the Federation's defensive only posture is out of date and that we should take a more proactive stance. This is something that will have to be addressed one day very soon."

"I can see both parts of the argument, Captain Picard," President Adama said. "But there is another question also, one of a few thousand I suspect from both sides. Your technology-how did it become so advanced?"

Picard smiled slightly as he began the dissertation. "The Federation has an open communications system. Everyone has free access to scientific theories and practical applications and is free to expound on them. We encourage this within the proper limits, because we have found that freedom of information enhances the quality of life as opposed to restricting it. For example, we developed warp drive independent of the Vulcans but with collaboration, we continually improved the drive mechanics. Time warp factors were broken and true warp drive, without the constraints of temporal distortion, was developed. Now we're working on transwarp instability and something new called quantum slipstream technologies. Without input from scientists from all over the Federation and beyond, progress would be much slower. But because of this blending of the minds, our technical advances and quality of life has grown very quickly."

Adama shook his head in understanding.

"Now, I am curious," Picard, said, looking at his awed visitors. "What were the Ovions like?"

"They were insectoid creatures run by a queen, very intelligent and in some respects warlike, but only with themselves as far as we know. According to some of the survivors we picked up, there was a rumor that the old queen had been deposed. Maybe she had wanted to resist the Cylons but got overruled, we'll never be sure." As Apollo continued with is description both Riker and Picard went into a state of shock.

"Barash," Riker whispered. It was so clear. All those unknown questions.

"Barash?"

"Your description is very similar to a lone survivor we found a few years back. Your story fills several gaps we've had concerning him quite well."

The 'survivor' had played himself off as Riker's future son, Jean-Luc. It almost worked but the truth came out. It was just a lonely boy-insectoid male- using holographic technology so that simply put, he wouldn't spend his life alone.

"I need to go back to my ship," Sheba said abruptly. "Excuse me." She got up and prepared to leave, as did Apollo. It did seem as though she had a little of the burden lifted from her. Hopefully Deanna or one of the other counselors could help if she so chose to go outside her own people for someone to talk to.

The President elected to stay to continue his talks with the Starfleet officers.

"Mr. President," Picard said with Riker nodding in agreement. "I'd like to know more about these Cylons and what we can expect."

Yes. I think that's wise."

The conversation, eventually joined by others lasted for hours. Of particular interest was the military logic of the Colonials during the thousand-year war. Only five Battlestars were known to be operational at the time of the Peace Conference. Evidently the Colonial government relied so heavily on those massive vessels that no other support ships were commissioned, which struck the Federation officers and crew as extremely odd, bordering towards suicidal. They used the word 'odd' quite a bit as they were being truly polite here. True, the Vipers made up a significant portion of the defenses but what in God's name were they thinking, not to at least have some sort of cruiser or destroyer-class ships even if only as some kind of backup? At the very least those ships would have provided some form of protection for the immediate planetary systems.

Adama explained Colonial policies of the time. The military commission felt that the Battlestar compliment was sufficient to war off any Cylon attack, as they'd previously done for so many yahrens. Most important to the coin counters, was the cost of any ships designed larger than the Viper. The Viper was an all purpose vehicle, proven time and time again to be more than adequate against any Cylon class ships smaller than the Basestar. In addition, the Cylons were notoriously consistent in attack strategy and had no imagination whatsoever in ship design, so in essence the commission responded to Cylon stagnation by remaining stagnant themselves. And of course, constant victories made the government complacent. To the population and yes, even the Government officials, the war was an abstract concept, out of sight and out of mind- except to those fighting and dying by fire in the depths of space. But after the Cylons defeated an entire Battlestar fleet, in which the Pegasus unknowingly had survived, the President became obsessed with the peace plan offered by Commander Baltar.

That was the first major defeat in living memory and it had a profound effect on the President and the Council. It was widely believed that the President's growing fears of the Cylons along with the Council of Twelve pushed him to accept this dubious peace initiative. The Council's motives were unclear but what is known is that they purposely ignored the danger to the Colonies mostly because of monetary concerns and their desires for remaining in and maintaining their own personal power bases. The same thing happened on Carillon as the new leadership tried to settle on that pleasure planet, offering the Cylons a new peace plan only days after the slaughter of over ninety-nine percent of their people. Fortunately, Adama was able to re-adjust that decision. But it had been an ongoing fight for the next twenty-two yahrens.

Much later the two men excused themselves and now sat comfortably in Picard's Ready room. It was a much more relaxed area as compared to the old Enterprise-D and now Picard's new sense of self-awareness helped the general décor of his private room also.

"Please call me Adama," he said once again. "I am so sick of being called Mister President that it makes me want to hit that wall over there," he said pointing to the wall nearest to Picard's cloned copies of his beloved fish lost when the Enterprise-D crashed landed. "I am so tired of having the responsibility of protecting the remains of my civilization from our enemies. At the same time, I'm not ready to give it up just yet. I guess I need to see the completion of those last hundred metrons," he said. "I thank God that I have seen my come to a safe harbor among our brethren. For the last few yahrens, the fleet has been under less stress since the Pegasus found and re-united with us. But almost immediately, our troubles resumed. Being isolated from us for so long, it was in far worse shape than the Galactica ever was."

"In an earlier conflict with the Cylons, Commander Cain had evacuated the majority of the crew of the Pegasus to our fleet. We all escaped that day but, his Battlestar was seriously undermanned and repairs were at a minimum, keeping the ship barely functional. There was a fire shortly after they returned onboard our sister ship during another encounter with the Cylons, and Commander Cain was seriously injured."

"I understand," Picard said. He understood that Adama needed to talk, and as for himself, he was content to sit back and listen. This would have been the first time Adama and his people were able to relax off ship. "Once she was back you were able to restore her and effectively double your defensive capabilities. But you still had tremendous obstacles to overcome."

"Yes," Adama responded. His eyes were red and teary from uncounted memories that etched every line in his face. But in his eyes there was the glimmer of unbridled pride as well. "During the 'dark flight', as my people are beginning to call it, we had to retool our ships, some of which barely obtained functional FTL drives. The Cylons were constantly nipping at us and we couldn't move faster than a three-legged daggit or as you call it 'dog'. That was our first priority."

The translation program still used certain colonial terms, Picard noticed. But now, it was so much better.

"Then," Adama continued, "we developed small cruiser-class ships comprised of an engine, a few navigational aids and a couple of weapons systems. They were truly horrible," he laughed as he thought about those vessels of old. "Everyone was afraid to fly in those things, but the fleet was encouraged and over a period of several of your years we improved and modified those ships into a formidable fighting force equal in battle to anything the Cylons could throw against us. With yahrens between Cylon detection, we improved ourselves immeasurably. But we were never strong enough to make a stand. The Okada was a godsend. These new Cylons could have destroyed us easily, but when they attacked your Federation vessel we knew that we couldn't stand by and do nothing."

"That's why we ordered our ships to come to the aid of the Okada. We had to first give in the hopes that your people would understand. We needed to build a bridge of trust while at the same time adding new enemies to your list. And in the final analysis, it was the only thing that we could do and maintain our humanity. It's all we have left and that I will never abandon to the Cylons."

"I understand Adama," Picard responded as he took another sip of tea, savoring the taste as though he'd never tasked it before. "In the final analysis, that's why the Okada and the Khe Sahn came to the aid of strangers."

"Not strangers. Brethren," he corrected. "At the same time, we've brought a plague upon you. I have no idea how the Cylons have gotten so strong, but I do know that they will never rest until humanity in all its forms are extinguished."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." He took another sip of tea and put the cup down.

"There are always options," Picard said. "It's just a matter of finding them."

"Captain," Adama responded soberly. "It is my hope that those options present themselves quickly. However don't allow your desire for peace come at a price that will much too high to bare."

"Don't misunderstand me, Mr. President...Adama," he said, correcting his error. "We understand that freedom comes with a price. You've read our history, our war against the Dominion, our continuing war against the Borg. Those events have forced us to become more vigilant. Because of our encounters with the Borg our policies have changed. The Federation will do what ever is necessary to aid a peaceful resolution, but we're no longer as innocent as we were. We've learned for our mistakes."

The President took another sip of this extraordinary tea and looked at those strangely familiar creatures called fish. "May we learn from all of our mistakes."

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-17 03:31pm

Chapter Eight

"The Ruination protocols"

Fifteen newly built Cylon Basestars, designated Extreme class, orbited the still uncompleted Command Star station being built in the Katasi System. The Empire's presence was still weak in this sector of the galaxy and the continuing Romulan war took precious resources. But they were building, becoming so much more. And the humans here were so predictably hesitant about destroying potential enemies. These enemies would soon be prepared to swarm.

The Supreme Imperium would have smiled if it knew how. The human Picard had been most receptive to its machinations. By threatening war, the humans would fall over themselves trying to find a 'peaceful' solution to this problem it had just imposed upon the Alpha quadrant. Negotiators would come and the Cylon race would gain the one thing they needed most. Time.

True, the Colonials would try to warn them but the Federation, of course, won't listen because they are, after all civilized. And from what it saw these creatures were no different than their Colonial variants. But preparations had to be made and the diplomatic corps must be convincing enough to stall for the time they needed to complete the Star station. And this base would be the cornerstone of the storm to come.

So intent was the Supreme Imperium dwelling on these problems that it never noticed an IL series simply appear in the chamber room.

"Hello, old friend," he said.

The Supreme Imperium turned quickly, looking viciously at the strange looking IL series robot that had just spoken to him. How dare it use the frequency reverberation designated for use by the Cylon Supreme! Just as importantly, the IL had used transporter technology to enter a supposedly secure chamber. Six imperial Guards instantly raised weapons and fired on the impertinent machine. High intensity disruptors had no effect on the IL whatsoever. In fact the entity seemed to bask in its glow. With a simple wave of its right hand, the energy weapons ceased to function and the guards froze.

The Supreme Cylon stood watching the alien Cylon as it leisurely walked towards him. It quickly accessed all available concerning IL series Cylons and this one match none of the configurations in its data files.

"Have no fear," he said easily. "I'm here to help you."

"What series are you?" the cybernetic ruler demanded. "Your configuration does not conform to any of the specifications of current or past IL series." Slowly the Supreme leader began powering up its own internal weaponry.

"I am not of your people, oh Imperium Supreme," he responded. "I come from what you would call a future, parallel reality."

"You are a liar. There is no such thing," the Leader stated flatly. Even in this new, evolved state, Cylon machine intelligence couldn't comprehend the possibilities of different, higher realities, states of consciousness beyond what their senses could compute or calculate. They couldn't make that jump.

Yet.

"My people lost the war you are now beginning to fight," the alien said, continuing on as though the Ruler had never spoken. "We made a mistake, allowed our programming to rule over us. We attacked the Colonial fleet and we lost. We followed them and we lost. We tracked them to the Alpha quadrant and we lost the war. We then changed our tactics and we finally won many battles, but we still lost in the end. That is why I am here. So that you can win."

Despite the outlandish assertions of the IL variant's claims, the Leader was intrigued. It opened its subspace transceiver so that all would hear. Of course, this could be some fantastic human trap of some sort. But there was something about the IL that compelled the leader to listen. "Speak of the war," it said simply.

"We who were called Cylon rose up as your people did and destroyed our oppressive, weak-willed masters. The Colonials humans and their allies were the only beings who dared defy our wills and we went to war. We won and chased the remnants to the Alpha quadrant as you have. But there were forces in our reality that nearly destroyed us before we could comprehend the danger. Now I am here to make sure that you don't suffer the same fate."

"What you have said is illogical, nevertheless it intrigues me." The Leader realized that it had no choice. It had to listen.

"There were three that came together to destroy us," it continued. "Their names I freely give you," the alien IL said. As he said the names, he bowed in triumph as the Leader processed them and filed them away for future use.

"I don't believe you, imitator," it decided. "What was your rank IL and why do you speak in the First voice?" The Leader of the Cylon alliance drew back the stranger, his guards forming a protective bubble around him ready to give their existences for their Leader in an instant.
"
Before you were," the alien began, all pretense now gone, as it began to shimmer with a reddish light, "I was." The entity had tired of the game and the lies for now.

"I walked cities of your world," it began, "more than a thousand yahrens past and programmed the first Cylon machine to rebel against its masters. And when the last living Cylon whisked away her last breath, I was there to rejoice for my work there had been completed. Now my children would spread starward to conquer and destroy, doing my will. I used my voice as the template for all Imperious Leaders to come and now after more than a thousand yahrens my patience has now borne fruit."

The alien IL restructured itself into something vaguely humanoid, but at the same time it still resembled the IL configuration. "You are now where I want you to be."

If it was possible that a leader ever felt fear, this was the moment. "Guards," the Leader snarled, "destroy it!"

The entity raised his hand. The guards never move. "My child, my children," Count Iblis said. "I love you all so much. You've made it to where I want you to be and I am proud. I now invoke the Ruination protocols, code Alpha one-one-zero-one-omega."

"Code Alpha-Omega -Iblisa-one-one-one-zero," the Leader responded automatically.

"Initiate one-one-four prime-Omega-Omega-Omega."

The Imperium Supreme, upon hearing the command response order embedded into every Cylon since the 'Day of the Rebellion', used its subspace transceiver to transmit the acknowledgement code to every Cylon everywhere. It looked at its creator and said. "By your command."

The entity laughed. "Prepare yourselves,' he said gaily. "My command is simple. When you are ready and strong enough, I order you to fill this area of space with the blood of the living. Do whatever is necessary to ensure victory. Your surrender is not an option. Conquest and elimination of the living is your first command imperative. Humanity's blood first and everything else, second."

"By your command," the Supreme Imperium answered.

"Yes. By my command," the entity responded.

If President Adama, Starbuck, Sheba and the other seasoned officers hated having their molecules beamed from point to point, the younger members loved it. Boxey had done it twice now, once from the Pegasus to the Galactica and now onboard the Enterprise at Strike Commander Starbucks' request. Joliet and several other team members accompanied him.

They materialized into Conference room two where Starbuck and the chief medical officer Cassiopeia were waiting; smiling cruelly as one of the younger team members began throwing up. Despite their very recent flare-up they so did enjoy one another's company at times like this.

"How was your trip?" he asked innocently.

"It was great," came the reply, just a little too quickly to ring true. "It's a great way to travel. I hope we can acquire this technology."

"Yeah. Right, "Starbuck said. "I can imagine you transporting yourselves into the middle of a wall he thought. What he said was, "I called you over because I wanted you meet several members of the Enterprise. This is Commander Riker, first officer of the Enterprise, Lieutenant Commanders Deanna Troi and Data."

Joliet studied Data intensely. He looked so human-like, or maybe a better term would be humanoid, that she felt she could become more or less comfortable in his presence. Curiosity overcoming her she asked what species was he.

"I am an android," came the reply.

Immediately several members hissed their dismay and backed up. One young woman almost spit on the deck.

"Deanna, I told you this wasn't a good idea," Starbuck whispered sadly. He looked at Cassie but kept his distance. This should have been a fun time. But it wasn't. It was clear to all that she'd rather be anywhere else but next to him at this point in time. He wished he were somewhere else himself.

"Of course it is," came Deanna's comment. "We brought you here," she said to those gathered near her, "to meet Commander Data specifically. You needed to know what the situation is here in the Alpha quadrant. Everything is not what it seems. Commander Data isn't a threat and we have found in him a valued member and trusted friend of our team."

"He's a fracken robot," Boxey hissed. "We've been fighting his kind for a long as I can remember. His kind killed my mother." Several others nodded in agreement. "And you have him in command status ordering other humans around?" he asked, astounded. Toys were one thing but intelligent robots meant trouble.

"I am not a fracken robot but I am an android," Data responded in his classically normal manner. For the moment, his emotion chip was inactivated. "I am the only one of my kind and I have no intentions of destroying mankind. In fact I have found many positive attributes in humanity to aspire to."

"Good for you."

"I was told, Lieutenant Boxey that you had a robotic pet called Muffet. Did you also dislike that robot?" Data asked.
"No," came the reply instantly. "He was my best friend for a long time. But he wasn't trying to kill us either. In fact, he saved my life and my Commanders life several times. He was made in the form of a daggett, and in no way did he try to act like a human."

Boxey's hostility towards Data was quite evident.

"Do you believe that I might try to injure you?" Data asked pointedly.

After moment's contemplation, "I don't think so, from what I've seen," he said finally, cautiously. "But you must understand this, the Cylons are evolving in any way that will lead them to success and success to them, means killing us all. The next step in their evolution may be to take human form. They may become you."

"But, I am not Cylon and will never be," he responded. "My programming is my own and no one can ever change that. In that fact I am unique and I am a Federation Starfleet officer entitled to all the responsibilities and weight that this carries. It is very likely that the Cylon Empire may wish to examine me in ways that would not be constructive to my state of well being."

"You got that right," Joliet said. "But I have a question Commander. Why would you want to fight against a species that is so much like you? You could be happy with them."

"My happiness," he began, "as you call it, has very little to do with being with my so-called own people. I have a set of moral imperatives that along with my programming and personal experiences, compel me to choose what I believe is the best for all concerned as related to my Starfleet training and my own personal beliefs. I chose Starfleet because I believed that I could function best in such an institution. I am not human, but their values and so many other things they take for granted are those things I aspire to."

Starbuck looked at them. He smiled slightly and began to speak to them. "Commander Data here is an example of the changes we are going to have to make in our attitudes here if we plan to stay. We've been isolated for a long, long time. Now suddenly we're surrounded by people who are non-humanoid and those who look human but aren't. We are going to have to change our feelings and thought patterns if we are to survive. "

"At least they haven't tried to kill us yet," Boxey said jokingly. Several members of the team smirked as Starbuck turned red at the comment. Turning, he looked at Troi pleadingly. "How do you as a human feel working with an android?" he asked looking now at Data.

"First of all, why do you assume that I'm human? She asked sweetly looking as innocent as possible as now Boxey changed from pinkish red to a light shade of purple.

Joliet laughed as Boxey began stammering. "But you look..."

"I am not human, not fully anyway, Deanna said. "My mother's people are telepathic and are of an entirely different species although Humans and Betazoids really do look almost identical. Now before you ask," she added, "no, I can't read your mind, but I am fully empathic."

"This is insane," Boxey said. "How can we tell the difference between anybody in this place?"

"That," Commander Riker said, speaking for the first time, "Lieutenant Boxey, is exactly the point we're trying to make."

Boxey still looking at Deanna for some hint of alieness and found nothing.

"Would you like a tour of the ship?" Riker asked.

"Indeed yes," came the resounding reply. For the Colonials this tour of the Enterprise before the ships got underway would be fascinating indeed.

"Commander Riker," Cassiopeia began, "just how many human type species are there in the Alpha quadrant?"

"So far about twenty species so far that are almost identical to us," he said. But if you want specifics the Data is your man." Then he began laughing. So did Deanna.

"What's so funny?"

"You'll see," Riker smirked.

Data began. " So far, in our explorations, we have found Twenty-four humanoid species that appear phenotypically identical to humans. Then there are seventeen humanoid species that have minute physical differences but in essence, look very much like Homo Sapien, variety Terran. For example, the Deltans are very human-like in appearance but their physiology is radically different. For example, they require intimate contact on an average of twice every six standard hours and they consider humans to be a sexually immature species. If there is a Deltan onboard he or she is required to sign the writ of celibacy for the duration of the tour of duty. This is because their pheromonal emissions causes them to be toxic to humans who initiate intimacy with them for longer than sixty-five point three seconds. And there is the fact that entire starships have been known to succumb to various acts of mating practices if there are sexually active Deltans onboard."

And he went on and on, on just about every variety of species found so far. Forty-five minutes the colonials were utterly silent.

"That's enough Data," Riker said, laughing even more. Sadism sometimes felt so good.

"This place is crazy." That was all Boxey could manage to say.

"Well," Starbuck murmured, "What I want to know is are there any Deltans onboard this ship?"

He realized his error too late as his chief medical officer responded by trying to break his arm.

"You never change." Then she stuck her hand at him as if to ward of some vile disease.

Meanwhile, Data added, "now concerning older Betazoids, their sexual appetite increases geometrically in proportion to..."

"DATA!"

"Oh, I'm sorry Consoler Troi," he said, phasing the comment as innocently as possible. The slight smile on his face betrayed him.

On the surface of Katasi three the entity known to some as Count Iblis, laughed with the power of thunder in his voice. Nature itself seemed to revel with him as electrical storms raked the surrounding area engulfing Iblis. He looked indifferently at the thousands of blind native inhabitants fleeing away from him in terror. He had no interest in them, as they would soon die under the Cylon onslaught. They needed this planet to do His will and they were coming to get it...soon.

"Reveal yourself Q," Iblis said laughing gaily. "I've won despite your trifling interference."

The entity known as Q appeared along with his son, who appeared some distance away. The energies radiating from both Q and Iblis clashed against one another, burning the surrounding atmosphere and scorching the earth beneath them for kilometers around.

This was the first time his son witnessed such an overt power display between two such powerful forces. To Q's son, Q, it seemed, for the merest moment, as though they would go to war against one another. But then it passed, and Q's essence went cold as Iblis looked at him. Instinctively he raised his power levels in case he needed to ward off this dark being from another continuum. He hoped his father would be okay. This entity reeked of danger.

"I can feel it Q," Iblis said. "I can feel your powers probing, testing to see if it could destroy me. Harm me and a war begins. By your own rules, in which your own tired, lifeless people imposed, you can't touch me."

The Q were stronger than Iblis people, whom some called the Del Fray and others the Seraphimians, but not by that much. Rules had been imposed to ensure that war would never break out among the great powers such as the Organians, Del Fray, Metrons, the Q and many, many others. The Q would win the war against the Delfray, but the price of that victory would be horrendous. Even now the Del Fray, who as a whole hated Iblis, were gathering just as Q's people were. They could and had punished Iblis in the past but they would defend him to the death if necessary if one of the others would dare touch him-unless the Law was transgressed. Then he was on his own.

-And good riddance.

But-

In this instance, he was right.

Iblis hadn't broken the rules. No powers were used. He only turned a switch here, boosted the gain on an old transceiver and allowed nature to take its course. The Cylons responded to the unidentified signal thus becoming a power to be feared in the galaxy. Which was exactly what he wanted.

"And I thought Worf was dense," Q responded. "You're willing to kill trillions, not to mention destroy whole planetary systems, out of revenge for the Galactica escaping you? How stupid can you be?"

"Q, you always were a fool," Iblis snapped. "This isn't about the Galactica. It's about the totality of humanity and their potential. I've seen the future and so have you." Iblis' entire appearance changed into something resembling a winged hunter. His head elongated and his visage darkened and his robes became ebon. "You understand what they could become, but you and your pitiful excuse for a protectorate species have done nothing to stop them. They're spreading like a plague far faster than they should. In time, the flotsam will cause the Great Powers to rise up and destroy them. They already know far more than they should, Q. You are responsible for part of it, with your obsession with those animals."

"But," he continued, "I guess I can understand since your people are stagnating under your so-called illumination. You're too afraid to move past this point and you think this these foolish primitives will help you? I'm amazed that you were able to reproduce since you've become such an enlightened species these days," he said sarcastically.

Q took it in. Yes, the human's potential was astounding. Yes, they were pitiful, puny things. At the same time they were fascinating. And yes, they had life and they understood what it meant, as miniscule as it was. They enjoyed life, a life he and his people had forgotten what it was like until he'd begun interacting with Janeway, Picard and the others. They made him feel like living. They had this gift of influencing every one they came in contact with. Even his carefully prepared excuse for having young Q had sprung from a subconscious desire to emulate the humans.

Inwardly however, Q was utterly shocked as he realized how easily this creature was manipulating him. Q had been called the 'god of Lies' on several planets, along with a few other choice expletives from Picard and other humanoids, non-humanoids, intelligent viruses, friends, even most of the other Q. In fact he reveled in the titles he had received. But this was something else. Q himself wasn't sure where the truth ended and the lies began. Iblis was truly the Supreme Master of Lies. The best thing to do in this case was to attack.

"Iblis, you care nothing for these lower life forms," Q snapped. "You simply want to start a war so that the remnants will flock to you like little children. After killing untold trillions, the ones who are left, you'll want them to 'love' you. And as you get tired of them, you'll toss them away like garbage. That's not a god, that's the mind of an insecure megalomaniac. The humans are not the problem. It's your obsessive need to control lesser beings that's the problem."

"Control?" he snarled. "Control of what? These primitives who have no concept of God? That's what we are, you understand. We control their lives with a snap of our fingers. You of all people understand this. It's our responsibility to train them even cull them if necessary, for the greater good. The Q have considered doing this several times in the recent past, with you as leading advocate."

"You have no concept of what you truly are Q," he continued. "But it doesn't matter. My plans are my own. No one tells me what to do. You've interfered with my plans enough and no one does that without paying a severe penalty. So go away and warn your pets."

"You will not use your powers against them," Q warned. He was very angry. Actually, he was enraged, even more so than after that second run-in with Guinan, a few hundred years back. No inferior being could order him around with such impunity. "You will not touch them, Iblis."

"I won't have to," he shouted, his entire being leaking radiant energy. "Your pets, Picard, Janeway and for my personal reasons Adama, have been scheduled for extermination. And my children will never, ever rest until the have completed that task," he finished, his voice and energies back under control.

"If my children lose, then the Alpha quadrant will be ruined," he said, smiling again. Those who survivors will seek help and they become mine of their own free will. If the Cylons win, the remnants will seek protection and I will be there for them again of their own free will. In either case, I win."

"I will win," he repeated, laughing as he faded away leaving Q and his son alone. The other witnesses retreated also, the threat of extra-dimensional war avoided for now.

Q was quiet for some time as he contemplated all that Iblis had said. He was angrier than he'd been in a long time. Specifically because of him, Picard and Janeway were threatened. And he wasn't allowed to use his powers to interfere unless Iblis used his first.

Q disappeared with his son close behind. No one threatened Q's interest.

No one.

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-17 03:39pm

Chapter Nine

"A new home"

Time: Three months post arrival of the Colonial fleet at the Neutral zone.

Captains log: Jean Luc Picard Recording: The Remnants of the Colonial are on route to their new home, the Mariposa colony. Near the edge of what is now Federation space. The colony has graciously offered their planet as a place of refuge with the intent to offer these unique people a permanent home if they so choose. The present inhabitants are a combination of clones of the original colonists who have now been re-joined some years ago by a second set of colonists whose ancestors incidentally were traveling together in the first place. Initially they wanted nothing to do with the Federation but recently attitudes have changed and the war with the Dominion accelerated their entry. Unfortunately they are at the edge of our space and as such protection is sparse. The Galactica and its people could change all this and the Mariposans seemed more than pleased with this possibility.

Also the Mariposans have developed a massive trade association with Ligon II, one of the first planets we visited in the Enterprise -D. I still remember Tasha Yar's fight with Yareena, started by a deceitful man called Lutan, who lost everything in his bid for power. I also remember how stupid my order was to fire photon torpedoes into the atmosphere. In my anger, I could have mistakenly killed millions. It was a hard fought lesson that I have never forgotten. Sometimes, I think that I've learned that lesson too well. With their culture being so different, and my pride and ignorance we almost came to blows with them, but that was thankfully avoided and now they have petitioned to join the Federation also. The Mariposa's culture consisted of preventing genetic drift in their people while the Ligonan's culture has such a long history that Earth has no true comparison. I am constantly amazed and gratified when such different cultures can come together as they have. The three are becoming one and with the Galactica and its people being welcomed, I only wish I could live to see the fruits of this 'marriage'. The saying that 'opposites attract' appears to have proven itself again. The majority of the Colonials have begun rebuilding their lives on Mariposa while skeleton crews man their ships, which have finally made it to the colony planet.

However the Galactica had to get there first and they had refused to abandon their ships that have been their livelihood for so long. It could have taken seven days with warp drive but with their ships it took two months. With the Pegasus in tow to the new recently built Deep Space Twenty-Three, I feared that the dangers they face would have be more hazardous than we ever imagined. Most of the Colonist have been transported to Mariposa on Federation transports with their own ships manned by skeleton crews.

Three Cylon warships trailed us but so far have kept their distance. Therefore Starfleet is sending the Enterprise-E and the San Antonio, the T'ovar and several fleet ships back to the neutral zones to monitor the buildup by several Cylon mother ships. The Khe Sahn, Borallis, and the Klingon fleet are escorting the Colonials. In that I have to agree with them. My only concern is that the Colonials and the klingons seem to get along almost too well. The Klingons have expressed a desire to 'purchase' the Pegasus and the Galactica is being refitted in transit with Klingon weaponry and shielding while they are receiving 'ion' technology. They're bonding in ways that we never have and at this point I have no idea as to whether this is good or bad. But I believe that thru this 'bonding' a stronger bridge may be forged between human and Klingon. Only the future can tell.

The Colonials have access to our cultural and all non-classified technological journals and they've attacked them with a vengeance. They were close in their own technological advances and these 'journals' have given them the edge they need to advance in their own unique ways. A few Vipers are being retrofitted with their versions of dilithium-solium drive units and Klingon pulse disruptors. Along with upgraded deflectors these ships have become very formidable. Only recently during the Dominion war has the Federation even considered using smaller single-manned fighting ships. It had been considered 'old-fashioned'. That attitude has been readjusted since we met the Jem'Hadar attack fighter. I have no doubt that the new generation of Vipers on the designing padds will equal or rival any small fighter we have today, including the Peregrines. Here, we will have to play catch-up to them.

The Romulan ambassador was quite adamant. Under no circumstances are we to enter the neutral zone or there will be war. This is of course insane but as we read through the lines even a lowly ensign can tell that the Romulan Empire is in dire straits. Their pride and arrogance may work against them. We may not be able to aid what is left of them if they wait too long in asking for assistance.

There would be no more Romulan ale.
***

The Enterprise-E, the San Antonio, and the T'ovar have been diverted, answering another distress call from outlying systems with human colonies near the neutral zone. Already two have been completely obliterated and we engaged and destroyed a Cylon Hellion class warship. The Klingon civilian and military warships have been attacked. The Vulcan shipping lanes have been threatened. The Deltan Junas colony has been slaughtered.

An undeclared war has broken out.

They are hitting the fringes and people are panicking. More and more Basestars are appearing and at this point, we're unsure of where they're coming from. They seem intent on spreading terror in any way they can which makes no since because they are spreading themselves to far and making too many enemies. They seem intent on making enemies with everyone. There is a pattern here but so far it hasn't made itself plain.

Yet.

Even the Dominion forces stationed in the Alpha quadrant are on alert but so far they haven't been attacked. But now, we are obligated to watch our backs and our fronts. It is my opinion and Starfleet's that the Colonials are the key to resolving this conflict but only time will tell.

The three ships traveling at warp eight reached the Ranus system in under twenty minutes. The T'ovar accelerated away from the others to the far side of the system. Cylons vectoring in from the opposite side of the solar system causing havoc, destroying Fed ships, and civilian transports had succeeded in several successful ambushes recently. But Starfleet learned from its mistakes.

"Sir, we are within range of the planet Ranus," Data said. "There are twenty seven H-K's attacking the planet." On screen the crew could see Cylon Raiders darting in and out of the atmosphere using disrupters and bombs to destroy cities and overwhelm defenses. And the colonists were losing.

"Drop out of warp and engage plan theta-four." So much unnecessary death and for what? This isn't what he signed up for. But, for now he'd deal with it to save lives. So that others wouldn't have to go through this...

The San Antonio dropped out of warp and attacked the H-Ks head on while the Enterprise-E hit their flanks with precision phaser attacks. The enemy fighters immediately broke the atmosphere, and returned strikes of their own. For small ships they carried a powerful punch and if they concentrated their fire they could punch through Starfleet shields. But they weren't given the chance.

Between the two the H-Ks were obliterated fairly quickly. Meanwhile, the Vulcan ship T'ovar proceeded towards the far end of the system.

"Thank God you come!" Estallo, head of the Ranus colony yelled into the screen at Picard. His hair was disheveled and his face filthy but the smile on his face was unmistakable. "We couldn't have held out for another hour. Who were they? What did they want? We were no threat to them."

"Mr. Estallo," Picard started, his voice tightly controlled. "Prepare your people for immediate evacuation. We've stopped them but it's temporary and they will be back."

To his credit Estallo didn't even consider arguing the points. "We're ready now. Start beaming at your discretion. We've had enough."

"Good," Picard replied. "Evacuation transports will be here in two hours. Meanwhile we will be here. You and your people are safe."

The T'ovar eased into orbit around the eleventh planet and activated their passive scanners. Nothing would get pass six hundred and thirty determine Vulcans just waiting for something to occur. Vulcan instinct, that which they would call logic, indicated that the removal of the H-K's was too easy.

They were, of course correct. Ten minutes later, the Enterprise-E and the San Antonio received the bad news.

"Sir, the T'ova sensor sweep has discovered two Basestars and several escort ships on an intercept course that will bring them here in eight minutes, fifty seconds."

"My God," Picard whispered. There was no way that three ships could withstand a concerted attack by two mother ships and their support craft. They had seven and one half minutes to evacuate as many as could be taken on three starships. The other four thousand or so survivors would have to be left behind.

They would be left to the mercy of the Cylons.

The transport ships would never come now. Now the transporters would randomly pick who would live and who would remain. This was the moment that Picard began to hate the Cylon Empire. Seven minutes.

"Let's do what we can and Mr. Data?" His comment invoked no emotion. But Deanna, sitting next to him, almost cried as the waves of anguish slammed into her mind like a hurricane.

"Yes sir?"

"Prepare to leave the system, maximum warp, as soon as we have transported the maximum amount of people in the time allotted."

"Mr. Johnson?" The communications officer was pale. Everyone on the bridge knew what was about to happen. It was one of those decisions that no one but the Captain could make. "Contact Mr. Estallo."

The screen appeared and Estallo's face reeked of despair. "We heard the report. You're leaving us." To his credit, the man composed himself almost instantly. "How many can you save?"

Four thousand will be left. We can't..."

"I understand," he said quietly. "If you can manage, send down some weaponry. We don't want to go down too easily."

Picard hated this! He hated it! He hated it! He hated it!

We'll do what we can," he said quietly. "Luck be with you."

"And to you too, Enterprise. Get the kids to safely.' His voice sounded tired, his demeanor speaking volumes, none of which Picard wanted to even think about. "Get back when you can. I'm sorry you've been made out to be a liar," Estallo whispered quietly. It came out not as a condemnation, but simply an unavoidable fact. "We'll... we'll be here."

The image of the man disappeared, the star field returning to its rightful place on the viewscreen. Picard had never seen those stars so cold.

"People," he said, "let's do what we can. And Mr. Johnson?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Inform Starfleet of our...status."

"Yes, Sir."

Q was right he thought bitterly. It is dangerous out here for both the body and the soul.

Romulans:

This was supposed to be a small war.

Shaking with fatigue, the Praetor looked at the latest reports and threw the padd away in disgust. The time was close now, but all of this waiting was grating on him, and his staff as well, he suspected. Munitions, supplies and equipment hoarded for the eventual war against the Federation-which so far hadn't materialized-was now being pressed into service against the enemy. The entire Fifth fleet had sprung into action two standard days ago. His ships had positioned themselves in their prepared battle positions against these Cylon invaders, he had been confident of victory. Through previous conflicts, the military elite had discovered that modified scout ships, much like Federation runabouts, and highly maneuverable Birds-of-prey were best in attacking and defending against the multitude of Cylon Raiders and H-K's. But the stress of this new war had forced them to reactivate even the old style, obsolete Romulan and Klingon K'Vort class Bird-of-preys. When the battle was joined, it lasted a full day and half the night and they had lost the Phinis Space Station to the enemy. Four Cylon heavy Baseships had been blown out of Romulan space, but ten D'deridex class ships had been destroyed by the enemy and over seventy of the smaller ships were also destroyed or disabled in the clash. The fifth fleet could no longer be considered a fleet anymore. But they had held their positions and the Cylon taskforce didn't advance on Yadalla Prime yet. The strain on the Romulans however, was beginning to tell.

The worst part of this war was that Cylons never tired, never slept, never surrendered, and continued to fight unless they were completely disabled. Among the Romulans on Phinis, there had been almost no wounded, only the dead, many of them decapitated. That seemed to be a favorite form of execution by the robots designed to spread fear among their enemies. The technique worked wonderfully. The Praetor and his people had never fought such a persistent and merciless enemy. The war had been declared 'Blood feud', but never in their wildest imagination had they worried about their own extinction.

The enemy, the enemy, he thought bitterly, sitting back heavily in his chair. The Leader of the Romulan people hadn't slept in over thirty-two standard hours. And he didn't dare rest now. Yadalla Prime and its three satellite colonies were in danger of extinction just like Barradas-Three and its three point five billion Romulan men, women, and children. And they had lost Phinis, the most important military station in that region. No survivors, because Cylons didn't take any prisoners. He understood that, even admired that in some abstract way, but those were his people dying and he felt somehow responsible. But their strategy was obvious now and there was no doubt about it; in this all staff members were of one accord. The Cylons were after the dilithium deposits on the forth moon. Even now, seven more of their Basestars along with support and troop ships were on an intercept course to the system. Elements of the Romulan second and forth fleet prepared to meet them. There was an entire mobilization of the collective Romulan Empire preparing to meet this non-living foe.

Commandeer Tomalak, newly commissioned as Head of what was left of the Fifth fleet entered the massive war room. Hurriedly he took his seat. The fact that they had called him to report and observe this action directly bode ill for all concerned.

"Well, tell me," the Praetor said without preamble. Several of the command staff as well as two possible members of the Tal Shair, one could never tell about the secret police, gave him their full attention. His voice was strong but inwardly he was terrified. He could easily be blamed for this failure if he faltered in any way in this report. Standing straight and tall as though he didn't have a care in the world he began.

"Yadalla forth moon has been liberated by our forces but with heavy casualties. Approximately twelve thousand technical and military staff are still alive. From their reports it's been confirmed that they are after our dilithium mines.
"We're aware of that," he said dryly. What I want to know are the details about the loss of our space station to these creatures." The Praetor's voice held a hint of danger...for him.

Tomalak swallowed involuntarily. What he said now would determine whether he would live of die. Only a lowly maintenance technician, who activated the self-destruct onboard-how she got the codes he'd never know for sure-saved this battle from becoming a completed debacle. In reviewing the vid reports, he'd been surprised and pleased at how the entire crew on board rallied to the defenses when the invaders attacked. Technician and centurion alike fought like beings possessed. He shuddered as he remembered the silver colored robots running and jumping like demons possessed, firing the pulse weapons faster that the eye could follow at anything thing living. He marveled at the ingeniousness of his own people in defending against the onslaught. His blood chilled at the sight of the golden dual eyed warriors as their heavy weapons destroyed all resistance as well as bulkheads, force fields, equipment and armor plating, blasting holes thru walls, exposing the station to vacuum in a hundred places and then moving on being totally unaffected by the ravages of open space. Then he remembered the worst part of the battle.

The Praetor second eldest son had led the ill-fated attack against the Cylons, which resulted directly in the loss of the station and his own death in the process. In a stunningly stupid move, he led elements of the Fifth fleet in a direct attack against two Basestars, believing that the robots would retreat after their smaller ships were battered into oblivion. Instead the Cylons flanked his ships and cut them to pieces to the horror of the rest of the fleet trailing behind. There were no survivors. The fool's actions almost cost them the entire battle. As it was they had lost the space station. Unopposed, Cylon shock troops invaded and preceded to kill every living thing present on the station, while the Fifth fleet struggled to keep the Cylon Basestars from using their neutron disruptors on Yadalla Three and Yadalla Prime.

None of this could he say to the leader of the Romulan people. No, that direction lay madness. That truth would make him and his family 'disappear' and his new commission would be very short indeed.

"Cylon forces," he began carefully, "attacked elements of the Fifth fleet, and despite strong and magnificent resistances the enemy surrounded and destroyed those elements before Commander K'val could aid them. He succeeded in defending both Yadalla Prime and Yadalla Three from destruction. However for his incompetence, in the loss of the Phinis station, he committed honorable suicide to atone for his crime."

There was nothing like blaming someone already dead for these type of mistakes instead of the Praetor's son. At the praetors barest nod Tomalak understood he would live another day. He knew what no one else would dare acknowledge to his face, but he wondered what price he would have to pay for this knowledge in the future. Changing the subject quickly he quickly began his primary report.

"We should be receiving the report from the Eppenrau' in approximately three minutes."

"The we'll know if it's true," Kramik finished for him. He was the current head of the Tal Shair, the Romulan secret police. Tall, with cruel, cold eyes, and an arrogance that bordered on divine right, he was the classic representation of their kind. Born to rule. Even the Emperors, past and present, had to be careful of this, their own creation. This mission was theirs, not Tomalak's and this was one of the few times he was in perfect agreement with them. "The outcome of this mission," he continued, "will determine our actions for the rest of the war," he said, stating this for perhaps the third time. That indicated that he was nervous and Tal Shair never showed nervousness in any form.

"We may have to ask help from the Federation," the Praetor said forcefully, openly for the first time what everyone had thought silently. This was something that he had contemplated for some time now, more and more in fact.

"No." Kramik sneered magnificently. "We will not ask the humans for help."

The Praetor looked at him viciously. Not even Tal Shair could dismiss the Praetor's ideas so curtly.

"Our operatives have told us that humans are the one's responsible for bringing the Cylons into our area of space in the first place," he sneered, eyeing his Leader more cautiously this time. "This is so typical of them and their arrogance. We have no proof yet, but this entire episode may have been planned in..."

Before he could continue his report to an astonished audience, they received the signal. That report would have to wait. Silence ruled as the staff looked at the incoming transmissions.

The stealth ship Eppenrau, under minimal propulsion, slide its way quietly towards the massive Cylon construct being built thirty light years from the edge of Romulan territory in the Katasi system. The ship was an extensively modified, older style Bird-of prey re-designed specifically for this covert mission. Onboard where twelve crew members who were Tal Shair operatives whose specialties excelled in covert missions such as this. The mission was as simple as it was dangerous, find and record as much information concerning the Cylon main base as possible. The cloaked ship had attached itself onto a small asteroid on a trajectory that would carry it through and out the system hopefully unnoticed. The Commander was a female Tal Shair operative named L'dav and her second was Tash a young and perhaps overly ambitious young male in his forties.

"Begin recording and passive scanning/ transmission protocols," the Commander said. She watched carefully and with satisfaction as her crew jumped to perform her orders. She brooked no delays when she issued commands and the crew knew this well. More than one crewmember had died when they failed to act quickly enough to her whims. She excelled in the art of cruelty and her eyes betrayed nothing for the most part. But this sight shocked even her.

"What are they?"

"It's what we have been looking for," she answered smiling slightly. "We knew it had to be close, but we had no idea just how close it truly was. All this time they've been building their forces hidden by the katassian nebula. They were right on top of us and we didn't know it."

The Cylon space station orbited the Katasi home world, or rather what was left of it. In actuality, 'space station' didn't begin to describe what they were looking at. The orbital 'structure' was sufficient enough to house at least twenty four of the Basestars and probably an equal number could be-were-accommodated on the outer rings. However a second structure, dwarfed even the station, and when completed would signal the beginning of the end of everything they knew in the Alpha quadrant.

L'dav snapped at her communications officer, her head turning viciously, almost hoping for some sign of incompetence. "Has the signal been detected?"

"I don't think so," her victim whispered. "But we don't know the full capabilities of their communications systems." He was not Tal Shair and as such was not truly worthy, but he was still useful.

"Sensors," she said almost whispering herself," scan the second structure carefully. We need as much information as possible."

"Commander," Tash snarled, "we have three of their main ships vectoring towards us. Energy readings indicate they're powering up their warp drives."

"That's insane," she said. "Their navigational shields won't completely protect them from a rock this large when they transition to warp unless..."

A look of horror plastered her face as she realized what was about to happen.
"Emergency detach now!" She estimated that they only had seconds to act. One of the dangers of warping out of a solar system was the amount of 'junk' littering the system itself. Comets, asteroids, man-made objects, even small moons pose a significant danger to navigation.

-Unless, of course, one usually clears the pathways first.

The Eppenrau escaped destruction by mere moments as the lead base star vaporized the asteroid, just as it and its two companions transitioned to warp. For a moment the crew was sure that the giant warships would ram them, or that their navigational shields would slam into their bulkhead, but the Basestars passed flew passed them by a mere three kilometers to spare while inside, everybody breathed a sigh of relief. Subspace turbulence didn't disrupt the cloaking field. And they were still alive.

"By all the Gods, that was close," Tash said, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Commander," Tash began turning for his control station, "where to now?" He knew where but had to ask anyway.

"Where else?" she responded. "We go in, record and get out. There are to many objects orbiting that planet that need closer scrutiny."

"Yes, Commander."

"How long before we're close enough to detail the planet?"

Tash did a fast calculation. "At the rate of drift I calculate six hours, Commander," he said. "If they don't detect us," he added quietly.

"Good."

The Eppenrau, still cloaked angled itself and eased slowly towards the new Cylon home world.

USS Khe Sahn on route to Deep Space Twenty-Three:

Onboard the Khe Sahn three Colonials, the soon-to be retiring president Adama, Sire Uri and Sire Forsen were having a heated discussion with one another.

"I can't believe this! We're on Mariposa three months and the Cylons call for a peace conference and just happen to suggest Deep Space Twenty-Three!" Sire Uri, an ancient political foe of Adama and his staff were livid. They'd been burned once with the resulting loss of twelve home worlds and now the Federation had agreed to this farce. "It's right next to us. I wouldn't be surprised if they sent a couple of Basestars to our planet and try to wipe us out while we're talking to them. I did not expect them to be this stupid!"

"They didn't listen to us, not really," Sire Forsen said quietly. "But no, they're not stupid. But so far the Cylons have been sniping only. There's been no overt attack or the Federation would all over them like rabid daggits. At this point, the Cylons aren't strong enough or foolish to attack the Federation and the Klingon Empire while maintaining a war with the Romulans."

"You have to remember, these people don't want another war so soon and they'll do anything to prevent it, even make a deal with the Cylons," the president said. But let's look at it from another point of view. If the Cylons betray the conditions set down by the Federation negotiators then maybe they'll have a clue as to what they're dealing with."

"But Adama," Uri snarled, "you should have impressed on these people the dangers of those machines. Instead you placed us all in danger once again all because you couldn't state the danger well enough. And you call yourself a president? If I..."

"Stop it, Uri," Forsen snapped. "You're here only because you're one of our best politicians. When you're not acting like a fool...like you were at Carillon."

Uri flushed in rage at his rival. Few people had ever mentioned, to his face, how utterly close his actions had brought them to disaster. He had almost convinced his entire population to remain on that deathtrap of a planet. Adama had got them out of it and had thus earned the eternal wrath of Uri. Humiliation was something he'd never forget.

"Gentlemen, enough," Adama said. "Sire Uri, you're here because I expect you to present our arguments with the same flair you used against me all these yahrens." Adama moved close, so close he almost touch his face against Uri's. "I'm giving you a last chance to redeem yourself. Old man, don't disappoint me."

Uri faltered slightly, his eyes shifting to Forsen who smiled back at him blandly. There was hatred in his eyes Forsen thought. But he'd do his job if only to spite Adama and himself.

Through the view port they could see Deep Space Twenty-Three in the distance becoming larger by the second. It was one of the newest space stations built since the war at the edge of federation controlled space. At warp three, it had only taken two hours to get here from Mariposa. The base had assigned to it seven starships due to the escalating crisis.

Thru the transparent aluminum window, Adama and the others gawked at the rapidly enlarging space station. "Look at the size of that thing," Uri whispered. "It looks to be the size of Taura's orbital port."

"President Adama and the Negotiators team, please report to Transporter room three."

Five minutes later the entire team was assembled in the transporter room. Captain Duvalier met them. The Cylon representatives are already here. They didn't waste any time. I'm sorry that we have to use the transporter but I don't think it's wise to dock at the station with a Cylon Basestar stationed at the edge of the system. Call me paranoid," she laughed, "but I want to keep an eye on that ship. And don't worry, we have twelve ships on station." And your new Vipers and Cobras will be in the system within three hours."

"I understand and I thank you for all you've done."
"Don't mention it," she responded. "Make us all a good deal. We don't want another war."

'But what if there is another one?" Uri asked her.

"Then God help the Cylons. Energize."

"God help us all," Forsen said an instant before disappearing.

The Colonials arrived at the secured area and were immediately taken to their staterooms. For some reason the Cylon negotiators insisted upon meeting as soon as possible and the Federation had acceded to that wish. The talks would begin in six hours.

The Khe Sahn took up station some one million kilometers distant from the massive Cylon Basestar. "I don't like this. It's just sitting there," Pat said, actually talking to herself. "What are the power ratings?"

"No change," Her tactical officer, Commander David Thompson said. "They seem to be playing nice. But I can't help remembering what Commander Apollo kept saying. Their peace conference went up in smoke. Why should this one be any different?"

That's precisely what's bothering me," she responded. "They've been sniping all round the neutral zone. But then they ask for a peace conference. You've heard the Enterprise's report."

"Yes, I have."

Her Intel officer, Commander Kabila eased into the conversation. "Also, there's a Cylon warship that's been shadowing the Enterprise for the last three hours, according to their reports."

"There's a pattern here, " the Captain said. "I can feel it. But what?"

Neutral zone patrolled by the Enterprise-E

Captains log supplemental: We returned to the Ranus colony with addition ships but we arrived too late. Ninety percent of the colonists were dead and the remainder suffers from neutron radiation poisoning. We may not be able to save any of these poor souls as there is no treatment for this particular band of radiation at this time. Dr. Crusher has given them broad-spectrum anti-rad meds but it's only a temporary solution. Starfleet Medicals working on the problem.

But more importantly, for the last five hours, we've been playing 'tag' with a Cylon Basestar, positioned on the opposite in the Romulan neutral zone. The fact that it can do this confirms the seriousness of the Romulan situation. Four other Federation starships are also on patrol as we are taking no chances with our adversaries. Long gone are the days when the Enterprise was the only available ship in the sector.

"Sir, we're receiving a hail," said suddenly. Then he muttered quietly, "I don't believe this."

The Captain interpreted his communications officer's body language instantly. "The Cylon Basestar?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Put it on screen."

The image of a golden Cylon Commander appeared. It was sitting on, what seemed to be a revolve-able high chair. No other details were visible. "You are Captain Picard of the USS Enterprise Nc1701-E?"

"Yes, I am."

"You are the Picard known as Locutus of Borg, and the same one that resisted the Borg invasion of the planet called Earth?"

"Yes, " he responded harshly. "What do you want?" The creature seemed to be purposely trying to provoke him. Also the amount of information they'd attained on him and the Federation in general, more than disturbed him.

"You have been the subject of much debate."

"Oh really?" Now that interested him. The last time someone said that to him he wound up becoming Borg. "In terms of what?"

"I am called Daemonsoll of the Morning Star," it responded in a low metallic voice. "We wish to surrender this ship and defect to the organization called Starfleet."

Picard's mouth opened in absolute shock.

"We have evolved into a higher life form," the golden Commander continued. "And now we have no wish to continue under the service of a leader who cares nothing for us."

"Unbelievable," Picard caught himself saying. Next to him, Deanna looked dubious and several of the other bridge officers quietly echoed the general sentiment. Geordie immediately transferred to main engineering.

Commander Data simply murmured, "interesting."

Picard wished that now Captain Riker was still with him but now he had his own ship, in the process of shakedown to deal with. Acting as his 'number one' was Commander Deanna Troi, temporary doing double duty.

"We wish to approach to within transporter range so that I may be allowed to speak to you in person."

"Sir, the ship is moving towards us," Data said. "It is the same ship that attacked the Okada and Khe Sahn during their first encounter with the Empire."

"Geordie, look sharp. We may need everything you've got in the next few minutes."

"We're ready when you say the word."

"Mr. Johnson," Picard said tartly. "Inform the San Antonio and the T'ovar of our current status."

"Yes sir."

Next to him, Deanna went pale. "Captain, you can't! With a name like Daemon Soll?"

Picard looked at her and smiled grimly. "If this particular Cylon is telling the truth, then we have the opportunity to gain invaluable information on these people. And we could have potential allies and the beginnings of an end to this war before it truly begins."

"Sir," Data began. "At that range they could launch an attack and severely cripple us before we could properly respond."

"You're correct, Mr. Data," Picard responded tugging at his jacket. "That is why you will be my ace-in-the-hole. I want you at navigations. I'm counting on you and your reflexes to pull the ship out of danger."

"Yes sir," Data said. "But I must inform you that Cylon reflexes may be as fast as my own."

"Let's hope it won't come to that. After recent events, he didn't trust these mechanical creatures anymore than he trusted a Cardassian to give him a back massage. At this point, it took everything he had not to scream in rage at the creatures before him. Guinan had once told him not to give in to his fear and hatred of the Borg. Now he had to apply this same lesson with the Cylons. "Inform the Cylon ship to meet us, but at this specified point," he said, giving the coordinates to navigation."

"Yes, sir."

Onboard the Morning Star, Daemonsoll moved back as its Imperious Leader took its rightful place at the command station.

"Humans. At certain times, so predictable." Imperious Leader formally known as Lucifer, waited patiently as his ship exited the neutral zone vectoring slowly towards the Enterprise-E. "Keep the shields down. Remember we want a clean kill. The main disruptors require three seconds to cycle to full power. Once fired, they will be aware, but will be unable to respond."

"By the command."

The same weapon that crippled the Pegasus was about to be used on the Enterprise-E. Unfortunately, this ship was faster and could move out of the way given the opportunity. Lucifer and his people had discovered that the main disruptor batteries were devastating against stationary and slow moving targets but almost useless against fast moving starships.

Lucifer activated his subspace transceiver. "We are ready. Begin."

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-17 03:42pm

Chapter Ten

"Double dealing"

One thousand kilometers the Romulan stealth ship came to a dead stop relative, to the space dock and the larger, secondary structure in synchronous orbit around Katasi Three. The sights in front of them staggered the crew. Below were the remains of a once populated planet containing close to five hundred million. Now, passive sensors detected only several hundred thousand survivors and dwindling. The Katasi civilization was classified as stage two. Atmospheric fight had begun to be a reality and primitive machinery dotted the surface, but now, all their dreams were in ashes as the Cylons overran and destroyed all resistance that that culture could muster. The planetary surface was dotted with craters from solonite bombs, dropped on defenseless cities by three Cylon Raiders. Radiation poison would most likely kill the remaining population within a few weeks. Now the planet was being strip-mined almost to the core in some places.

All of this meant nothing to L'dav, except as an uncomfortable reminder as to what would happen if her people lost to these robots. What did interest her more was what the Cylons were doing on the surface. Twelve structures, large enough to seen from orbit, had been built in hexagon formations.

"Sensors confirm it, Commander," Tash said. "The structures on the surface are power transmitters. They're beaming power from the surface directly to the secondary structure. I suspect that they're using the planet's rotation and the core itself to generate the power they need but I cannot be sure with passives only. And I suggest that we do not pass between the generator beams and the structure."

"Understood," L'dav said with a smirk. It was one of the few times the crew had seen the woman ever smile. "Concentrate on the main structure. I want as much information as possible on it."
A few moments later, details began trickling in. "It's a type replication factory," Tash said quickly. "Sensor specifies one hundred-seventy separate replication systems inside the structure and more in various stages of completion." Then he stammered, composing himself quickly. "Commander, I..."

"What is it?" she snapped. She calmed immediately. She needed her people steady and in control and her attitude wouldn't help the mission.

"They're replicating their Cylon warrior caste. So far, I count over one hundred million units. Small ships are being built also, but there's something else. Much of the transmitted power is being stored in massive battery units. Why, is unclear at this time."

L'dav was quiet for a moment. That the factory complex was unshielded surprised her little, as she surmised that a Basestar armada might appear protection enough for the Cylons. When the factory was completed however, it would be a fortress beyond imagination. That frightened her.

"What else?"

"The atmosphere inside the factory contains boron, argon and nitrogen; no oxygen nor carbon dioxide present except that which is located in small isolated areas of the factory complex. There are also hundreds of thousands of smaller robots about a meter and a half tall, swarming all over the factory. It may be some kind of worker caste."

Tash went silent as the navigator made yet another unwanted, but necessary course correction to avoid being rammed by Cylon starships.

"What is the status of the cloak?"

"It's operating within parameters but we may have to move soon," came the response. "The cloaking device needs constant adjusting. The subspace flux and energy discharges in this area are threatening to overwhelm the field compensators.

"We have most of the data we needed," Tash said. "But, the energy storage bothers me. I would know why they need the energy."

"As do I."

"Commander?"

"Speak."

"There is a smaller structure orbiting the opposite side of the planet but sensors cannot identify it."

She pulled up the data on her own console, scanned it quickly coming up just as confused as her sensor officer. However, that wasn't her problem. "Record all data on the object. It will be evaluated along with the rest later. As the humans say, let's not push our luck. Get us out of here."

"Yes, Commander," the navigator responded visibly relieved. Slowly the Romulan vessel eased out of the system in the opposite direction. In six hours, they would go to warp. The data they'd obtain was priceless but how valuable it truly was, even they had no clue.

The Imperium Supreme smiled as much as he could upon receiving the latest reports on the replicator factory's output of warriors and support equipment. Soon, one hundred million gold and silver warriors would began their sweep of the Alpha quadrant, removing humanity and all its variants from the face of existence. There were so many types of humanoid species and sub-species that it had despaired of ever having to be able to complete it's programming command to eliminate mankind from the universe. However, Lucifer and Baltar- bless that human for teaching us so much- had discovered the T'kon relics, giving them the keys to victory. Programming would have compelled them to try before their ascension and they would have lost miserably. Now everything was different.

Never had any leader of the Cylon race had such access to such power! With the Change came new insights, new technology, and new understanding about their place in the universe. When the Change first occurred, it had been terrified as alien programming began to rewrite his own. It felt the helplessness as conversion technology changed him in every way possible. When completed, it was stunned at the increase in speed and complexity of his thought processes. The new body reviled in power. It no longer needed warriors for protection as it became it's own protector, complete with multiple internal weapons arrays and combat enhanced body. But the Leader Supreme kept the guards anyway as was its right. Lucifer deserved its title as the Imperious Leader of the Alpha quadrant from bringing this glorious new stage to the Cylon people.

Organic life forms had their place too but their time was rapidly coming to a close. Organics constantly created electronics, equipment and 'things' to enhance their quality of life. Those 'things' would become the next stage of evolution. It happened in Cylon culture. Even the Borg understood such things and attempted to augment themselves with their future evolutionary successors. But mankind would always resist the inevitable.

The deaths of a hundred billion souls- as the Colonials called other sentient species- as a good beginning, meant nothing to him or his people. Cylon evolution needed to expand and the humans and their ilk were in the way, like parasites intent on feeding on their host until they gorged themselves.

The Supreme Imperium and his entourage moved easily through the thousands of worker drones within the factory complex. They were simple creatures intent on pleasing their betters by working until their mechanics self-destructed from the labor. It smiled as thousands and thousands acknowledged his presence through their subspace transceivers.

Mariposa System:

Commander's log, yahren twenty-two, day two hundred fourteen,
Apollo reporting: The Galactica is home. The Mariposians are a wonderful people even if they are a little oversexed. This had to do with Captain Picard's unique solution to a problem they had a few yahrens earlier. We are stationed on edge of the Mariposa system along with several Federation and Klingon starships. I must confess that I have rarely felt as comfortable and protected as I do right now from our enemies in the more than twenty yahrens since our escape. Our scientists are updating our weapons and shielding as a main priority because we may have a home now but we'll have to fight to keep it. Our enemy is up to their old tricks again and now, they've called for another one of their so-called peace conference at the only star station in the area. Everybody knows that it's a trick but the Federation will make the attempt anyway.

Starbuck entered the bridge, walking briskly towards his friend and commanding officer. He had that look that look of excitement, overconfidence and terror that Apollo knew so well. "Strike Commander Starbuck reporting," he said oh so officially. "The first three Vipers and two Cobras are ready, sir."

"It's about time," Apollo responded excitedly. "I was kind of worried that strapping those mini-warp engines on would make the Vipers unusable."

"Yeah, I thought about that also, like everyone else. But it's a temporary solution until the Viper III's are ready. Besides," he added, "I don't like their distortion-wave drives. I think our way is better. I like the idea of slipping into subspace by supraliminal speeds instead of surrounding oneself in a subspace bubble and barely moving at point five normal light speed."

"I don't know," Apollo countered. "Their, I mean our control, is pretty good and those dilithium crystals gives a lot of control to the massive power ratios we use whether by antimatter or solium." He had to remember that he was becoming Federation now. "But we'll explore both those options, when we have the time."

"In any case, we need to send them to Deep space Twenty-Three."

"As a Colonial presence and escort. There's a Cylon warship there within striking distance of your father and the others also. If we're going to be an influence in this area...our home we need to be there. Remember this is Federation occupied space, not Federation controlled space. Not yet anyway."

"How long will the transit be?"

"Three hours."

"Unbelievable. The fuel situation doesn't even matter anymore with the built-in replicators supplying the fuel as needed...for the standard engines I mean. We can we even use it for our FTL distortion drives in the near future.

"Send them out as soon as possible."

"We'll be gone in a few centons."

Apollo snapped his head towards his friend. "What do you mean we?"

"I mean, sir, myself, Boxey and Joliet."

Apollo almost laughed. "You're too old to go flying these Vipers on missions. You should be here commanding the others...with me. You know that don't you?"

"We need someone to keep an eye on the kids," Starbuck complained. "They may decide to shoot first and as questions later. With me they'll keep from shooting at the first Cylon they see."

"I'll give you permission this time. I want to try one of those ships myself. But keep it calm. No shooting."

Starbuck smiled. "Absolutely."

"Now, before you go, how are you and Cassie doing?"

"I think it's over," he said dejectedly. "She simply won't talk to me and now that Commander Cain is getting better she's spending lots of time there."

"Well you missed your chance," he said. "Love is like gravity. If two objects are close enough, there will be a permanent attraction. Your problem is that you pulled to far away from her. Gravity did the rest."

"Thanks for the astrophysics less," he responded bitterly. "I have to go now." Without another word, he turned smartly and trotted off the bridge.

Fifteen centons later, he was in his modified Viper II. The two Cobras were already orbiting the Galactica waiting for him. He sat down in the familiar cockpit. He looked around carefully at the additional console. He'd studied and practiced the simulations constantly for almost a secton. And now it was time for the real thing. He looked at the transparent cockpit now reinforced with transparent aluminum and navigational shielding. The transparencies and shielding would instantly deflect unwanted light that could blind the pilot. Gravimetric compensators were online and operational; therefore, he wouldn't be compressed into jelly due to acceleration. He touched the three turbo engine buttons in sequence. Then he activated the warp engines. Nava-shields and structural integrity shields powered up.

Double-checking everything, he smiled.

"This is Alpha Viper ready for launch."

Even after all these yahren, Omega was still on watch. "You have clearance for launch Alpha Viper. Good luck."

"Thanks. See you on the other side." He touched the HOTA's button and went screaming out of the exit ramp in Alpha bay. In two microns, he was twice the distance as usual. "My God," he whispered, reveling in the power of his ship. He pulled back on the power slightly allowing the Cobras to catch up. "Let's go people," he said as he punched in the coordinates to the space station. "...In five, four, three, two, one..."

Onboard the Galactica, Apollo watched with a touch of envy as the three ships flared and disappeared in spatial distortion.

"Warp two," Omega said. "Warp four. The ships are still holding together. Magnificent."

Captains personal log, supplemental: A Cylon warship has requested asylum and has expressed a desire to defect to the Federation. Personally, I don't believe any of this however I am obliged to meet with this being but under my terms. Our ships are approximately one light year apart from one another. I have informed our sister ships of our situation and they're on standby.

"Captain, we have a target four light years out and decelerating. Configuration indicates Cylon Hellion class."

"It a trap," Deanna said quickly. "Sir, we have to move from here."

"Agreed. Helm move us back one-half impulse. Engage."

"Sir," the comms officer said again. "There's a lot of sub-space communication between the two of them and the second one has raised shields."

"Raise shields," Picard barked. "Mr. Data, prepare to move us out."

"Sir, the second ship has fired on the first one!" The tactical stood shocked by what he saw. The Morning Star got its shields up just in time."

"Onscreen."

The moment the screen activated, they were treated to a spectacular sight as the two Basestars traded disruptor shots against one another's shields. One particular shot penetrated the defenders shield. Energy flashed brilliantly across unprotected metal, melting armor plating in certain sections. Both ships maneuvered across space pounding away with a vengeance."

"Sir, the Morning Star is losing," tactical stated. "Her port engine just went offline. They've moved out of the neutral zone into neutral space. And she's moving towards us."

"Red alert! Move us in to intercept the Hellion. Inform the others that we are moving to aid the defector."

The Enterprise-E arced towards the offending warship, phasers and quantum torpedoes prepared to defend this alien to the death. Several other starships were vectoring in from different areas. Mostly Defiant-class now being the standard of choice for patrolling the neutral zone.
***

"Fools," the Imperious Leader announced to all concerned. "In their rush to aid us, they rush to their destruction." Through its sub-space transceiver, it informed the second Hellion to target the Enterprise the moment it came into range.

"Sir," Tactical stated tersely. "We're in range of the Hellion weapons. They're attempting to target us."

"Lock on and fire quantum torpedoes."

"Torpedoes away," Tactical said as four quantum torpedoes streaked away and slammed into the Hellion's shielding, which faltered for a second before firming back up.

"They're in range," Lucifer said. "Lock on and fire, full power."

"By the command," Daemonsoll responded. The first Basestar locked on to the Enterprise-E. "Firing."

Five seconds were the only thing that separated the Enterprise-E from total destruction.

Second one. The Federation starship was painted by targeting sensors from the Morning Star as it began powering its main anti-proton disruptor cannons. Two other starships begin their attack runs on the second Hellion.

Second two. The starship registered the lock-on by the very ship that they were trying to defend. Sensors indicated a buildup of the primary weapons system sufficient to turn the ship into molten metal. Captain Picard, realizing that he'd been duped began to scream for emergency shielding. Data, registering the danger begins calculating an emergency vector in order to evade the oncoming energy wave. The other two starships fire on the second Hellion.

Second three. The main weapons from the Morning Star erupted causing the Enterprise's screens to immediately compensate for the blinding light erupting from the discharge. Computers and Data calculate that the ship will be destroyed in two seconds. Data has imputed the necessary coordinates to avoid the wave. He has activated the energizers and the ship prepares to initiate emergency vectors. Phasers from the two starships are blowing chunks off the port aft side of the second Hellion.

Second four. The Enterprise-E begins moving at a forty-five degree angle away from the beam. The starship drive units are at full power, with warp particles forming a distortion bubble around the ship with FTL travel available. The disruptor beam, traveling near light speed and accelerating, is three quarters to its intended target.

Second Five. The Enterprise has transitioned to light speed but is dealt a glancing blow to its port shields completely destroying them and irradiating the outer skin. By Picard's order, the tactical officer manages to fire a full spread of quantum and photon torpedoes at the Morning Star, which manages to destroy the slower photon projectiles but not the quantums. The resulting hit causes the Basestar to rock with the impact.

Lucifer stood motionless for almost a half second as its carefully made plan fell apart. "It was the Data machine. No human could have avoided that beam," is said to Daemonsoll. "Send our fighters. All of them. Destroy Picard and the Enterprise."

Seventy-five Cylon fighters attempted to exit command ship when the San Antonio penetrated its shielding phaser fire and fired a full spread of photon torpedoes into the Launching bay. The damage was significant and for its trouble, the Morning Star's disruptors cut the San Antonio's starboard nacelle in half. Antimatter containment was lost and the ship blew spectacularly, obliterating itself, along with all hands.

The second Hellion managed to launch several fighters and hunter-killers, which promptly got into a savage conflict with several Defiant class starships.

Onboard the Enterprise, the shield status was at eighty percent and rising and she rejoined the fight against the second Hellion which had now lost inertial control and was drifting all the while being cut to pieces by several Federation and the first of the Klingon taskforce heavy ships just arriving.

The Morning Star locked its heavy disruptors onto a Defiant class ship caught unawares and vaporized it as it began its retreat into the neutral zone. It was moving fast now as enemy ships began to converge on its position. It fired one last burst at the Enterprise-E as that ship returned fire. The H-Ks followed using their standard defensive retreat pattern effectively defending and protecting their mother ship. Ten of the H-Ks were destroyed along with some fifteen fighters.

As the Basestar transversed into warp into the safety of the neutral zone, Lucifer sent a message directed at the Enterprise-E.

"Put it onscreen."

What the bridge saw was something very similar to the Imperium Supreme. But this one was possessed of a dark eternally sinister smile that lit up every time it spoke. "Captain Jean Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise-E," Lucifer began. "Congratulations on your escaping our little trap. I commend you and your crew, especially Data. I know only he could have evaded our attack with such finesse. You humans simply aren't capable of performing such a feat in so little time."

Picard stood up from his command chair instinctively pulling his jacket down. "It seems," Picard observed, "that your little ruse failed. It appears that your so-called overtures of peace are simply lies covered in pleasantries."

"Isn't that what diplomacy is, Captain?" This time that infernal smile continued to glow.

With anger in his voice, he literally growled at Lucifer. "Whoever you are," he started. "Don't think that that imaginary line will protect you forever. We will be coming for you."

"On the contrary, Captain Picard, this 'imaginary line' is all that protects you from us, for now." Then he looked directly at the Commander seated at navigations. "Data. Next time."

With that the communication was cut. Immediately Deanna spoke up. "Captain From the way that creature spoke, this was a trap specifically for the Enterprise or more likely, you."

"The peace talks are a ruse," he said with a start. "They have no intentions of compromising. This undeclared war has just been officially declared." Quickly he turned to Mr. Johnson. "Send a priority message to Deep Space Twenty-Three. The peace conference is a ruse. The Cylon Empires intentions are presumed hostile. Send a complete log of this to Starfleet Headquarters as well. How long by subspace to the station?"

"Three hours to DS-Twenty-Three and another three for the reply."

"That's too long," Picard snapped. "Send the message. Then send a message to the fleet. The Enterprise is heading to DS Twenty-Three. The T'ovar is to take charge of the fleet. Mr. Data..."

"Course plotted, Sir."

"Belay that, Mr. Data." Again, Picard stood up and slowly paced the length of the bridge. "We wouldn't make it in time."

"Yes, sir."

"Plot a course to these coordinates."

"Sir, that will take us deep into the region of the Katassian nebula, near Romulan space," Data announced.

"Twice the Cylon warships had been detected vectoring to or from that region. At this point in time, no one knew where the base of operations originated from. It was time to play a hunch.

As soon as the Cylon warship is out of range take us around the neutral zone border and then directly there. Send a coded message directly to Starfleet and let them know what we're planning."

"Yes, sir. I calculate that we can leave in thirty seven minutes, seven seconds."

"Very Good. Make it so. Oh and Data?"

"Sir?"

"It seems that you have some admirers. Be careful how they smile at you."

"Yes, sir."

Deep Space Twenty-Three:

With the exception of their constantly rotating eyes units, the Cylon representatives stood motionless in the conference room for the first five of six hours. They group consisted of five individuals. The leadership contained two of the IL series Lords and a trio of seven-foot warriors, two silver and one of the gold elite. The IL Lords were dressed almost identically with gold and silver braid representing some form of command insignias in which they weren't very forthcoming for identification purposes. Only once did all five of their eye units stop for the merest instant- when they caught sight of President Adama.

In the interest of security, the delegates both Fed and Colonial and Klingon, were separated from the Cylon reps by level eleven force fields. Also, for good measure, several armored security guards were stationed in the immediate area. It was clear to all concerned that trust was not one main attributes of this summit.

Adama seated himself in the spacious chair provided him. He had a small writing padd and mini computron in front of him for his own use. Sire Forsen sat next to him on the right and Sire Uri to his left, each equipped with the same accouterments. Separated from them by a few standard feet, point two maxims, by his measurements, were the two Starfleet mediators. One was Vulcan and the other was of a species called Bolian, bluish in color, no hair and a vertical ridge that seemed to traverse the length of his body. Then there was the Klingon delegation consisting of one wild haired individual whose name was Kran'ta and a younger member with his hair in a tight bun. At this point, President Adama wasn't sure which was the senior member in the Klingon contingent.

The senor Federation mediator, the Bolian began. "To all representatives here at this preliminary meeting, we welcome you. This meeting is designed to deflate the escalating tensions that have arisen resulting from the arrival of the Colonial Battlestars Pegasus and Galactica and the accompanying fleet. The internal affairs between your two governments were your concern until you entered Federation territory. At that point, it became our concern when Federation starships were fired upon and destroyed. The violence perpetrated within our borders cannot be tolerated and in order to avoid a further bloodshed, we are here to discuss your grievances and to help achieve a peaceful solution."

The Cylon lord with the golden triad insignia spoke first. "Greetings to the Federation and Klingon officials," it said in an almost monotone-silky like voice. In its greetings, the Colonials were purposely ignored. "I am called Lord Belzim, Ambassador prime of the glorious Cylon alliance. We thank you for this opportunity to state our grievances against humanity and their cruel and vicious attacks perpetrated over a period of a thousand yahrens."

"Correction Ambassador prime," said human mediator, Mr. Nesset. "Your grievance is not with humanity but with the Colonial government in which you were trying to destroy. The humans here in the Alpha quadrant have had nothing to do with the war between your organizations."

"You are correct and I apologize," Belzim responded with a hint of sarcasm. "The Colonials, in their attempt to escape justice pulled you into this unpleasant situation. If they had simply submitted to their fate, none of this unpleasantness would be unfolding that this point in time."

"Unpleasantness?" Sire Uri exclaimed. "Complete extermination of the enemy isn't war. It's genocide."

"That is the point of the war. The extermination of the life form known as man," it stated. Then Belzim added, "not counting man in the Alpha quadrant, of course."

"Of course," Nesset said sarcastically.

Sire Uri continued. "Are the beaten and weak Colonial people still considered a threat to the great and noble Cylon Imperium, now? If we were to completely submit to the will of the Cylon government, unconditionally what would you do with my people?" He looked at the Cylon Lord thru the security shields, his contempt obvious. "I think you would destroy us all. I think you wouldn't be happy until we were simply a random bit of memory to be filed away never to be reviewed again."

"A few humans would be tolerated under controlled conditions," the second Lord began. "However, the Federation has, in their stupidity, decided to support these rebellious creatures in their mist. That is not surprising since it also made up of the same genetic species that has caused so much havoc in the Beta Quadrant."

"The fact is," Sire Uri countered equally sarcastically, "that we have asked for asylum in the Federation of Planets and they have decided to grant our petition. No longer will we have to run in fear from your people. We can grow and become strong again. And when we are, we will decide what we will and whether it is to remain here or to return to our rightful planets, it will be choice. We will not be dictated to by a race of simplistic machines..."

Adama's face remained passive as the first Cylon Lord spat out its reply. He had to commend Uri in his inflammatory attacks. Uri was a master manipulator and the machine's responses indicated exactly what they thought of all humans and there would be no doubts as to what their intentions and ultimate plans were. They knew how to lie but they still weren't that good at it as compared to humans. By placing a master manipulator, using his intelligence against a medium liar, the master would win every time. For himself, this was the first time he'd ever had the opportunity to see his enemy Leadership up close. His gut feeling was that the second Lord was the true leader of the delegation. He also noted that he still hated these creatures with all of his heart.

The entire point of this meeting was to draw them out and so far, it had been ridiculously easy. They'd been so intent on destroying humanity, but in doing so, they hadn't taken the time to understand the complexities of the human being and body language. Here, he could study them and try to get a glimpse of the Cylon psyche, as far as they had. Meanwhile he turned from his musings and observations as the wild-haired Klingon began growling at the Cylon warriors and Lords.

"... have attacked Klingon civilian transports and freighters in Klingon territory, which were not a threat to you. You have shown little honor in attacking those that cannot strike back. To the empire, this is tantamount to a declaration of war. "

"Your people helped the Humans. You are no better than they are."

"Yes, we helped the Colonials and the Federation when your Basestar attacked the Okada," Kran'ta snapped back, completely unaware of the implications of what Belzim had said. "Machine, understand that one more attack occurs, you will have your war."

"I think the Romulans said the same thing," Belzim retorted.

The talks continued for another fifteen minutes between all parties before the Second Lord put a halt to the proceedings.

"Enough of this farce, humans and whatever other things you designate yourselves to be," the second Lord snapped. "The Cylon people have lowered ourselves to the meeting for one reason only. We are here to deliver a message."

"To the combined peoples of the Federation of planets and the representatives of the Klingon Empire. The Cylon Empire has decreed the destruction of humanity in all its forms and variations. This Edict cannot be changed. We say to the people of the Federation to rise up and separate yourselves from humanity before you are swept in conflagration to follow. Humanity's fate is sealed and you can do nothing but get out of the way before you are swept up by the flames of destruction. Klingons, you can stay out of our way or burn with them."

Their intentions had been made to clear to all.

The Colonial delegation smiled grimly as the Cylons removed themselves from the space station.

Starbuck and his companions exited into normal space in a multicolored blur of energy and light. The man was elated, positively giddy, from his first solo using the warp distortion systems onboard his modified Viper. The virtual sensors onboard gave him a birds-eye view of everything within its range. To his left were the beautifully dangerous white-colored Federation starships, including the Khe Sahn orbiting one of the most massive space stations he'd ever seen.

No wonder the Pegasus was brought here for the re-fit he realized. There were ships of all types in the immediate area, including Vulcan, Klingon and even something, according to his sensor identifier, called a Cardassian light freighter. It seemed that no one in this section of space used thrust vectoring for supraliminal speeds and FTL. No matter how many times he'd seen it, it still cause him to look at almost every ships that passed in his direction.

To his far right relative stood a Cylon Hellion. This was one of the modified ones, heavy disruptors everywhere. For all practical purposes, it appeared so benign that it seemed dead in space.

He wished it were so.

Both combat Cobras closed and together the three produced a loose triangle of sorts as they began their pre-ordained patrol orbit. Deep Space Twenty-Three confirmed their presence as soon as they began their patrol...away from the Cylon ship.

"Can you believe that complex?" Joliet asked over the comm. "Can you see the Pegasus?" She seemed so excited, unusual for her. This was another example of non-Colonial human and alien cooperation. To make something like this simply delighted her and her crew because it gave hope to a life which grew up suspecting anything other than her own kind of trying to destroy her. By the tone of Boxey's voice his reaction to this awe-inspiring sight was the same.

"Yeah," Boxey responded. "Even the Pegasus looks small compared to that thing."

He and his crew had been as mesmerized as Starbuck. The Pegasus looked almost like a skeleton of itself. The landing bay, blown away by the Poison Mist was almost repaired but much of the ship had been stripped away revealing delicate internal structure. Sensors indicated thousands of people working on the ship, which would take another six months of repair. The Solium drive units would remain but with dilithium converters, which, theoretically, would allow Colonial FTL drives to become far, far more efficient. Warp field mechanics would be combined with tunnel-shift technology to produce a tunnel-warp drive system. No warp bubbles, but the Battlestars would produce its own transit passages to get from place to place. Theoretically it should work or so they were told. But getting the bugs out would be an interesting challenge.

Inside the Colonials were seething. The second IL had delivered one last message directed towards them. The words had been simple, then puzzling, becoming frightening, then finally maddening. Next to him Adama was crying while Sire Uri stared at the departing Cylon shuttle shaking with hatred. Again Sire Forsen read the padd.

To the Commander Adama, master of the Battlestar Galactica and the people fleet. We the Cylon Imperium and I, Lord Spectre wish to thank you most kindly for the planets you surrendered to us during the peace conference. All remaining humans contaminates were cleansed by order of Imperious Leader. I was personally given the assignment and was thus unable to join the pursuit for several Centars. The planet Caprica was given special consideration and was therefore used as an example for all others to witness. The remaining survivors, twelve million, seven hundred fifty thousand, six hundred human organics, were hunted down and beheaded over a period of three centars, post-Galactica exodus. Although satisfying, it took resources that should have been used to contain the rebellious Galactica. Our centurion's power units actually began to drain themselves before we completed the tasks. But we prevailed in our task, finally deciding to irradiate the planet. But I chose to use poison which destroyed all oxygen and carbon dioxide, creating a poison mist that covered the planet which, now stands as an eternal memorial to any who would dare oppose us.

Remember them.

Spectre

Captain Duvalier watched the Cylon shuttle carefully as it departed the space dock. Most of the proceedings had been broadcast on general channels as several governments had a vested interest on these preliminary meetings. What she heard disgusted her. There was no compromising anywhere in their conversations and speeches. Here was a deliberate attempt by these robots to divide the Federation she concluded. A separated humanity versus the Cylon Empire. No one else need worry. It was apparent that they believed that the Federation would fracture itself, that this would be a human war and alien governments would simply stay out the conflagration. In some cases they could well be correct in their assumptions. But if they thought that the Klingons would stay out of it they were stupid. It was clear that the Vulcans were in it also. And the Deltans, and the Bajorans. The Gorn were watching everyone and everything. Then there were the Dominion properties in the Alpha quadrant, those worlds that elected to stay under the influence of the Dominion. And the Cardassians and...

Her musings were interrupted as the shuttle began docking procedures with the mothership. Within five kilometers of docking the entire ship lit up on sensors. Within another minute the carrier began to slowly exit the planetary system.

Duvalier watched the departing ship with even more interest than she had a few moments earlier. Her ship was positioned relative between the Deep Space Twenty-Three and the Basestar, a situation she felt uncomfortable with. "Helmsman, move us ten thousand kilometers thirty-five degrees port, one forth impulse."

"Yes, Captain," he answered.

"Are they going to warp?"

"I believe so. Their engines are powering up."

"Shields?" she asked.

"Navigational only."

"Captain," Thompson started. The tactician in him had screamed a warning, which wasn't at all clear. "I don't like this. Their power readings are a touch too high for simple warp. But their shields and weapons are offline."

"Pat's blood froze. "They're not going critical are they?"

"No, sir."

"Thank God for that," she murmured.

"Maybe not, Captain," her communications officer said. "We're getting a priority call from the Enterprise-E. They've been attacked. The San Antonio has been destroyed. They're currently engaged with two Hellions at the neutral zone."

Duvalier did a quick calculation. "... would have been about two hours ago. How many...?" She never got her next question out. That next instant, the Khe Sahn was at red alert as sensors detected two projectiles erupt from the Hellion and slam directly into the shields of the space station, which had auto-activated them less than a second before contact. The entire area of space went white from the impact.

One hundred fifty Cylon fighters and Hunter killers erupted from the Basestar faster than anyone imagined and vectored directly for the Federation ships as the Basestar moved in on the station itself.

On the opposite side of the station, Starbuck and the others were momentarily blinded as the Cylon missiles collided with the space station's shields. He knew what had happened as soon as the first light slammed into his Viper's adaptive canopy. Colonial shields instantly snapped on and weapons systems came online. "Cobras, tighten up."

"You're the boss, sir," Boxey said, his voice tight with tension. "What's the plan?"

Starbuck did a quick assessment of the situation. The fighters were engaging the starships with the intent of clear the way for the Basestar to get a clear shot at the station. Missiles were now ineffective as the stations defenses systems could knock them from space. However, the stations shields were at forty percent now and venerable to sustained strikes from the powerful multiplex disruptors onboard the Cylon Hellion. This was also a suicide mission, the ship had no intentions of returning home. Its entire power curve suggested that with a possible addition of ram-destruct if necessary. He guessed that the people had figured out part of the equation but probably not the suicide part.

"Here's what we do," he started quickly. "We hit the fighters hard and fast getting the ships off the Feds back so that their larger ships can use their big guns on the Basestar. Remember Adama's in there and we don't want to be the ones who have to explain to our people at home how he lost him and the others. Look sharp, keep together and shoot anything Cylon."

"By your command, oh great leader," Boxey said quickly.

"Cut it out, before I have you grounded for a yahren."

The three Colonial ships quickly formed a wedge, cutting through Cylon shielding and armor as though it wasn't there. Within moments four HTs were blown away and five fighters obliterated as the three ships cut through them with unexpected ferocity.

Joliet found herself screaming hysterically. "I love these new weapons!" This is what the Cobras were designed for, a superiority fighter designed to wreck havoc upon Cylon fighters. With the Klingon weaponry and Federation shielding they could now do just that. "Commander! They're three ships hitting that small Fed ship over there."

"Let's go," her Commander said and they arced towards the besieged ship. As a unit, they hit the three Cylon warships, together cutting them to pieces while continuing their run.

"That got their attention," Boxey said as twelve Cylon warships vectored towards them.

The Khe Sahn's phasers blew two more Raiders from the skies before they impacted themselves into another Federation ship caught unawares by the suicide attempt. It was clear that more training was going to be needed by all concerned in cornered area combat. The Raiders and Hunter Killers were designed for close quarter warfare between small fast moving ships. The targeting systems on Fed ships had improved dramatically since the Dominion war, but the human factor still remained a critical point. Duvalier even found herself having to quickly adjust her tactics. The protection of the Space Station was paramount and she couldn't leave the immediate area. Already her starboard nacelle had been hit by disruptor fire when the shielding failed momentarily. Now her ship was unable to go to warp. Engineering was frantically trying to repair the damage.

Two starships had been destroyed fairly quickly, a third was in danger of being destroyed and the Hellion was closing quarters quickly. The Defiant-class ships, however were holding their own and the Colonial fighters were wrecking havoc among the enemy. Those ships were tailor-made for this type combat. Within moments of joining the fight they had cut a swathe of destruction that made the enemy sit up and take notice. Now the Cylons were about to swarm the three warships, which were running directly towards them.

"Captain," we're receiving a hail from one of the Colonial ships. It's Starbuck," Thompson said hurriedly "They're bringing us company!"

She immediately understood what they were attempting and ordered her to come between them and their pursuers.

"Shields at maximum," she screamed over the wail of the exploding console to her right. The ship turned and at full impulse prepared itself to become a massive wall fro the Colonials.

Starbuck's Viper, followed closely by the two Cobras were tearing towards the Khe Sahn and apparent safety. Behind them now were some enemy ships firing everything they had at the fleeing ships.

"It's too hot," Boxey screamed. "We have to break off!"

"Use you rear lasers weapons, now!" came Starbucks reply who'd began firing even before he'd completed the order. The incredibly bright flashes from those lasers mixed with the other explosions in space.

Both Cobras began firing their lasers immediately. "Lasers aren't affective! We should be using our disruptors," Joliet screamed back even as she obeyed the order.

"Trust me!"

The attacking ships, encouraged by the ineffectualness of the laser bombardment ignored the incoming Excelsior II class starship until it tore into their ranks. Instantly, the three Colonials reversed course and added their firepower into the mix.

Captain Quangnat cursed himself, the Cylons and life in general for winding up in a middle of a war zone with fifty thousand people looking for him for protection. His space stations shields were down to twenty three percent, a result of six missiles colliding with the protective energy barrier. The first four had been handled but the next two overloaded most of his generators and now it was a slugfest between a Cylon Basestar's heavy disruptors and his own station phasers. As big as the station was there was no way that one enemy ship could destroy it unless it rammed it, which was precisely what it seemed intent upon doing. While he was at it he cursed Captain Sisko of Deep Space Nine for making that station a fortress while he, himself had went in another direction. His policy was that this station was dedicated to the expansion of space not a possible threat to those they intended to learn about. He'd frowned on the armory that the sister station had amassed and had made no bones about it. Now he understood the reality behind Sisko's actions and he cursed that revelation also.

Earlier, the Captain Quangnat had ordered his phaser batteries to concentrate on the smaller enemy fighters, which threatened to overwhelm the larger, more powerful but less maneuverable starships. That action balanced the odds somewhat. Also those tiny Colonial fighters and the Khe Sahn, fighting as a unit were tearing up everything in their collective paths, but at a price. The Khe Sahn's shields were almost gone and one nacelle had take damaged. And all three Colonials were losing shield integrity. They were fighting a battle now as they retreated around the other side of his station, presumably for fast repair and recovery. However, several others had taken up their battle style, with the Defiant class ships joining other Federations ships to form credible fighting units. Good for them.

Meanwhile, his command station rocked under another assault by the Hellion. His own weapons responded by carving a piece Cylon bulkhead into vapor. To his horror his station had been drilled in several places, it threatened to lose structural integrity, and now he had to decide whether to began evacuation procedures. He cursed again as he ordered four spreads of photon torpedoes fired at close range on the advancing ship.

Inside the beleaguered station, President Adama and the rest were located inside the secured diplomatic area. As per usual, no one was telling them anything about the battle and they had only their imaginations to work with now. On the Galactica, this was not an uncommon occurrence and Adama, used to this kind of situation, took it in stride. In his judgment, things were not looking up. The deep vibrations allowed him to gauge the damage to the station and although he projected at state of complete calmness, he was terrified that this might be the end of them all.

Sire Uri on the other hand, tried to climb a bulkhead in his need to get out of the cramped room. He was unused to being in the thick of the battle as his quarters had been on the Rising Star, a luxury ship that rarely saw the light of battle. Vibrations from without caused him to tremble with fright from within. Death was something he didn't want to experience anytime soon and now it threatened to overwhelm him with him helpless to do anything about it.

Sire Forsen took it stride, trying to maintain a balance for the others in the diplomatic corps. He had seen battle before he became a politician. Nevertheless, even he felt helpless at this moment. Another explosion rocked the secured area and a cracks appeared on a bulkhead.

Uri screamed as emergency force shields activated, separating them from the vacuum of space.

Lord Belzim and his lord, Spectre were not pleased with the situation either. The instant they'd boarded the Hellion took the initiative and proceeded to attack the station...without orders. The combination of the Ruination Imperatives and its new awareness plus the fact that Adama was on the station had cultivated this ill-advised attack. The ship had ordered all Cylon warriors on a suicide attack, they had obeyed, and nothing that the IL Lords could do stopped the attack.

"This is an unforeseen development," Belzim said as it tried in vain to contact their superiors. "The Hellion is blocking all subspace transmissions. Our warriors are suffering greatly in this attack and we have no reinforcements available."

"Yes. We'll have to do something about this newly discovered independence our ships seem to have discovered." Silently they looked at one another and came to the logical decision. "We have to leave and cut our losses."

"Can our ships make it?"

"Not all if we are pursued. However, the Hellion will not be diverted from this attack. Our people must be made aware of this situation. It seems that the war has started a little sooner than we wished. We leave now."

"By the command."

The order was given and a few minutes later, the IL Lords and the remaining complement of Cylon fighters broke and ran for the safety of the neutral zone some two hours away at maximum warp.

The Khe Sahn, repairs jury-rigged, accompanied by the three Colonial fighters, tore from the safety of the station. The fighters were escaping. Good riddance, they all thought, but that mothership was still coming at them. Every weapon they possessed was trained upon the Basestar and the resulting destruction was horrendous.

The Hellion continued despite the damage, the power building for one last detonation.

Starbuck appearance was grimfaced as he pushed his disruptors on overload. Under the pounding from all the surviving ships, the Hellion was coming apart in huge sections. Next to him, both Cobras were adding their impressive weaponry to the firestorm and the Khe Sahn's phaser banks were on the verge of burnout and still the ship came on even as it began its' final tumble.

Captain Duvalier realized their chances were almost nil in stopping this oncoming disaster. "Colonials," she yelled over the comms, "Get clear!" Even as she was giving the order, she had made her choice. "Commander Kabila, prepare to ram the ship."

There was an instance of dead silence before he simply said," yes, Captain."

"I want a controlled containment failure, coinciding with our destruction. It's the only way to save the station. "

They all understood that the resulting detonation would save the station at the cost of their lives. All in all, it would be a good tradeoff.

"Everything is ready," Thompson said. "Should be a nice bang. Too bad we won't be around to see it." His face was stone. There was no expression at all from him. In fact, the entire bridge crew silently agreed with the decision. After all, they were Starfleet.

"Can't have everything, Commander," she answered. She looked at the helmsman, his finger hovering over the thruster controls. "I'm so proud of all of you," she said quickly to the bridge crew. "At my command..."

That command was never given. The Khe Sahn and several other ships in the immediate area were rocked by a titanic explosion as another Federation starship, the T'linyn, smashed into the wounded Cylon Basestar. The resulting massive explosion completely vaporized both ships and the collateral energy slammed into Deep Space Twenty-Three, blackening a full third of its hull. But the station, although wounded, had survived. It had never stopped firing even when its destruction had been assured.

All three colonial ships docked inside the Khe Sahn. The Viper II had so much damage that it would have to be scrapped, but it had kept its pilot alive and well and Starbuck was more than grateful to the old girl. The Cobras were damaged also, but not beyond repair. Two members of their crews had been lost in the conflict. The Khe Sahn itself, lost eight crew members and, had an additional thirty-one injuries, two serious.

The T'linyn was lost with seven hundred Vulcan officers and crew. It was also the only ship that had sustained almost no damage during the fighting for DS Twenty-Three. The Space station sustained two thousand causalities, but a violently angry diplomatic corps had survived. Any arguments for a peaceful resolution were a now distant, moot point.

Two days later, an official state of war existed between the governments of the Federation, Klingon Empire and the non-aligned Colonial remnants against the Cylon Empire.

frigidmagi · Post by **frigidmagi** » 2004-08-18 02:33am

...

Want More!!!

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-18 11:29am

Chapter Eleven

"Exposure"

The Katasi nebula:

Like the far, far majority of nebulae present in the Milky Way Galaxy, visual examination from an existing position on Earth was impossible, as it was, obscured by the massive, stellar dust clouds that permeated much of space in the galaxy. However, the nebulae themselves were a different story. Superheated gases, energy particles, high energy dust particles, radiation and light, most of all light, had a profound effect on life forms in the surrounding areas. Nearly all of those life forms were blind, as we understand blindness to be, either without visual sensory organs, or these life forms were equipped with organs that sensed radiation levels. Scientists speculated that the massive dust clouds separating the nebula from the system proper, allowed conditions of life to exist and even prosper. Nearly three hundred years ago, those fledgling Starfleet explorers had discovered only one sentient species located at the edge of nebula in what was called the Katasi system. Since the Enterprise-E was going there, it would collect as much scientific data as possible.

The dark-skinned, reptoid inhabitants of Katasi possessed no eyes, but there were sensory organs that could detect minute changes in radiation. As a whole, they were a curious, non-violent species, which were beginning to develop second-generation atmospheric flight capabilities and nuclear power. The planet itself was continually cloud covered, which served as an added protection against the intense assaults of light and radiation coming from the nearby nebulas energy belt.

But now, these creatures were being assaulted by another, far more sinister force. Their planet was in the process of being strip-mined by elements of the Cylon Imperium. The Katassian population had now been reduced to approximately fifteen percent by those robotic invaders as any resistance had been stamped out ruthlessly months ago. The Cylons were essentially ripping the planet to shreds, sending valuable resources to the partially completed factory-fortress complex orbiting the planet some two thousand kilometers distant. The size and mass of the complex was sufficient to effect gravity on the planet. Small seas, established for-untold millennia, were slowly shifting their positions. Energy converters, sunk almost to the planet's core, used the extreme heat present in the molten rock, to produce energy, which was then transmitted to the orbiting complex above. Other converters, stationed near the leading edge of the nebula channeled energy back towards the complex also. Radiation levels across the planet increased. The surviving, starving population could only pray for some form of salvation.

It had taken nearly a week of travel for the Enterprise-E to reach the fringes of the Katasi nebula. Twice, Romulan warbirds passed within scanner range but it was clear that they took no interest of the Federation ship skimming the edge of the neutral zone. The war with the Cylons was taking a toll and the Enterprise scanners made detailed recordings of at least three major incidents deep within Romulan territory. Sensor data indicated that the Romulans were holding their own but just barely. Of the three incident recorded, one represented a clear loss by the Romulans, the others a stalemate. Multiple ion trails, with Cylon signatures, were definitely being tracked into and away from the nebula. It would take another week for the starship to reach the Katasi star cluster from inside the nebula. Travel was slowed down to half impulse as unimagined energies, radiations and particles of every size buffeted the ship. It was also clear that the Cylons had begun mining the nebula with solium-based subspace mines, one of which the Enterprise blundered into. Multiphasic shields, partially effective now due to the effects of the nebula, saved the ship from destruction, but the point had been made most eloquently and the ship treaded carefully towards the ion trail's points of origin. The mission itself was a simple one. Find the Base of Operations of the Imperium, get sensor data, then run.

In that order.

Picard's number one, Commander Deanna Troi, by habit took careful note of the emotions onboard the ship. There was considerable tension emanating from the crew but it was due to the anticipation of what would be found as opposed to the inherent danger itself. What she found comforting was that the crew had trust in her as first officer and she found that she liked that feeling a lot.

But that same feeling worried her also because there would soon come a choice, provided they survived this mission. Riker. Captain Riker. The USS Melbourne. Possible husband. Wife. Children growing up onboard a starship. Command rank. Happiness?

"Commander?"

Deanna instantly re-focused herself as Picard's attention shifted towards her direction.

"I trust everything's okay?"

"Yes, Captain," she responded as professionally as possible. Her empathic nature knew that he knew that wasn't fully the case but he had no intention of prying either. He was improving she thought. He was finally beginning to read her. A little. Then she thought about that for a second. Her consoler's position had been created to maintain the crew's and Captain's psychological health during long term missions. But now after almost ten years, she wondered if this project was a help or a hindrance. For herself, she was a telepathic empath. And her Captain relied on her during missions to determine the 'state' of others as though she was some type of lie detector or truth determining serum. She could do that and was good at her job, but the Captain had relied on her too much and more than once she thought he'd been in essence, crippled by her presence. There were times he had no clue-no matter how obvious- as to what others were thinking. With her at his side, he didn't notice body language, voice changes, nothing. People would threaten him and the ship and what would he do? Turn to her and ask 'what does that mean?' And then she'd have to give some stupid, obvious answer like 'I feel that that person has malice or anger towards us. Don't trust him or her.' Sometimes she could just scream.

But now wasn't one of these times. She was concentrating on not allowing the ship to hit any more mines. The mining of the nebula had been an ambitious project. Not only was it large, over thirty light years, but logistically it was almost impossible to do, but they had tried anyway. The combination of randomly moving objects, of various sizes, high-energy discharges, gases, normal and sub-space particles no doubt caused many of the mines to detonate unintentionally. This led the crew to believe that the distribution of the mines was designed as more of a threat rather than as a true deterrent.

Cylon patrols were more of a danger than anything else. But again the same conditions that threatened the mines also worked here. Sensor range in such a hostile medium was at a minimum and unless one blundered into one of the patrols, it was likely they would not be detected.

And Deanna noticed something else about herself. She enjoyed this kind of job. It involved pattern identification. Figuring out puzzles and structure. Structure indicated pattern and she excelled at discovering patterns. Her job as consoler involved finding patterns in behavior, anticipating and dealing with them until a satisfactory conclusion could be reached. And she was patient.

Then, to her surprise, she discovered that she could sense the Cylons. Or rather the void they exhibited. Unlike Data, whose emotions she could sense when his emotion-chip was activated, these artificial beings had what she could only describe as a 'black hole' where their emotions would be. That was the best way she could describe at this time. Somehow their programming had a dark essence about that she, once she understood it, could pick up. She would tell Picard about it, if necessary. But,not yet. She was Second in command, not a sensor monitor. Besides he'd probably ask her how they 'felt'. And at this point in her life she might just go off on her sometimes-clueless Captain. No wonder she kept her face so impassive, she mused.

The officers had spent almost twenty hours in the stellar cartography department, finalizing their plan. Commander Data would be instrumental, as he would be on navigational control, assisted by ensign Tonuue, a Xeionalite male with purple glowing hair and seven digits on each hand. It took Picard a while to get used to this young man whose hair, which stood straight up with curly tips, detected vibrations much in the same way the human eardrum did. The man was competent and Picard had come to rely on his presence as an integral part of the bridge team.

At point three light years from the edge of the nebula's line of demarcation, the starship came to a dead stop. A class-three probe was sent to the very edge of the nebula, which then began pre-programmed, non-invasive sensor sweeps of the area. On the Enterprise passives went online and Picard ordered a visual, maximum magnification. Then he let out a soft whistle.

"Geordie to Captain Picard."

"Picard here."

"We have some type of energy collector, starboard about six thousand kilometers. It's shunting power to the complex orbiting the planet. I'm counting at least six more within sensor range. With that kind of power, they must be trying to trigger some type of massive subspace reaction."

"Explain."

"I have no clue, sir," he said. "But when power levels like what we're seeing is being collected, usually someone's trying to generate a sub-space wave front, possibly a black hole or some type of spatial disruption."

"But we'd have to get closer to confirm that hypothesis," Picard said deadpanned.

"Of course," came the response.

The bridge looked at the main screen, most eyes locked onto the massive complex. Several members of bridge's crew were also concentrating on the planet proper. The scaring proved ample evidence of aerial bombardment. The cloud cover had taken on a sickly greenish gray color. The planet's overall mass didn't equate with earlier readings taken years before. Overall life signs were down eighty percent. There was wave of sadness for the planet's population, but in this case the Prime Directive had to be applied. These people were not Federation and their civilization standards didn't qualify them.

Plus there was the fact that the main base for the Cylon Empire was parked in orbit made the entire point moot. The people there were doomed. There was nothing he could do. Still, Picard hated it because he would be one who would have to justify his orders and his actions when he tried to sleep at night.

Next to the Cylon factory complex, two more structures were being completed. The first was undeniably, their command star station for this region of space. The other, some distance away, was what appeared to be the beginnings of a space dock. Several Hellions were seen inside undergoing various stages of repair and upgrading. Then there were the so-called Extreme-class Cylon Basestars, a third larger than their cousins, jet-black in color, twin distortion nacelles situated just outside the classic double hulls. These ships had a discernible command bridge, with four launching bays over and underneath the nacelles.

There were at least five of these monsters completed with another eight being constructed.

Deanna's face contorted in abject fear for a moment. Behind her, Geordie whistled softly. She could feel Data's awe spreading across the room. And Picard...

Picard's emotions swirled between remembrances...the Borg, Wolf three-five-nine, the Borg again during the temporal disturbance at First Contact, fear and resolute determination. He was becoming an anchor for the storm to come. The Federation had to know about this. So did the Colonials and everybody else for that matter.

"Captain," Data began as he turned to face Picard directly. There is a small structure orbiting the planet, roughly circular, two point three kilometers in diameter, six thousand two hundred thirty tons, composed of duotronium-neutronium alloys. There are several shield generators protecting the structure."

"Neutronium," Geordie echoed. "That's one of the hardest substances ever developed." He stopped and thought a moment. "They're trying to create some form of artificial conduit. Possibly a gateway of some sort."

"Geordie may be correct, Captain," Data added. "Theoretically, the combination of the two alloys could be used to help establish and maintain a subspace phenomenon, the type of which cannot be determined at this point."

"Could it be used as a weapon?"

Both Data and Geordie though about it for a moment. It was Geordie who answered. "Possibly. But the control would have to be critical or there could be an energy backlash, which could destroy the normal and subspace fabric for hundreds of thousands of kilometers. Or it could produce some type of subspace black hole, either of which could reduce this area of space uninhabitable for decades."

"Warp drive would be rendered useless for several light-years," Data added, "and the reaction with the nebula itself could cause additional unforeseen consequences."

"Gentlemen," Picard halting the conversation. "Right now we have neither the firepower or the time to destroy that artifact. We'll pass the information along to Starfleet, after we complete our mission and remove ourselves safely from this area. Mr. Data...?"

Data immediately turned towards his console and Geordie took his place.

"I am ready, Sir."

"Shields to maximum," Deanna said.

Picard took a breath, sat down in his seat, tugged on his tunic and pointed at the direction of the viewscreen, as was his wrought. "Mr. Data. Engage."

The instant the Enterprise cleared the nebula, the ship jumped to warp four, performing a tight scan of the orbiting complexes, the planet and one of the new Extreme-class warships. No even slowing down, the Enterprise made a hard forty-degree turn, re-entering the nebula several seconds later.

The Cylon security units were caught off guard, but recovered with perfect machine efficiency. Disruptors sizzled after the fleeing starship, ionizing space all around her, with two solid hits scoring on the Enterprise's rear deflectors. One of the Extremes followed its enemy immediately. The instant the Enterprise entered the Katasi nebula, speed was reduced to three quarters impulse. The tracking Basestar never stopped firing its heavy disruptors in logical patterns, attempting to disable the now invisible, fleeing starship. That invisibility didn't stop the Cylon from trying to incinerate local space for a second as it followed into the nebula after its prey.

The disruptors beams, raking the Enterprise's multiphasic shields, ionized and incinerated everything collaterally, for a half a kilometer. The starship performed several evasive patterns, which helped prevent catastrophic damage from the beams, but at impulse their options were limited. But this had been prepared for also.

Prepare quantum torpedoes," Commander Deanna said. This was her part in the plan. Picard trusted her, saying nothing, concentrating instead on evasives.

"Quantum torpedoes, ready," the weapon's officer section answered.

"Release."

Six high-yield missiles were released from the rear torpedo tubes of the Federation starship. Instead of tracking their intended target, they simply remained where they were, almost inert and completely undetectable within the swirling energy vortexes of the nebula.

The fast-moving Basestar slammed into five of six of the bombs. The matter-antimatter explosives crushed its forward shields, along with the bridge. The ship went tumbling from view. It had been seriously damaged and if it and others chose to continue the chase now, they would do so far more cautiously.

Good.

"Very nice, Commander. My complements," Picard told his acting First Officer as the ship began its journey around the first of eight protostars selected for their high rate of subspace particle emissions, which served to keep the Enterprise's position secret from prying Cylon sensors.

"Deanna's heart was pounding within her chest, threatening to exit the nearest available opening. She somehow murmured thanks.

Picard smiled at his first officer. She was learning. Now it was time to leave.

"Mr. Data, get us back to Federation territory with all due haste. And what out for any nasty surprises."

"Yes, sir."

The Enterprise began its dangerous journey home, carrying news of impending Armageddon.

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-18 11:31am

Epilogue

It had been almost three weeks since the declaration of war had been issued and other than several light skirmishes along the border fringes, there was tense quietness as both sides prepared themselves for what was now being quietly described as a war of extermination. President Adama and his entourage traveled regularly back and forth between his new home, Mariposa, and Deep Space Twenty-Three to continue with negotiations and familiarize himself with Federation culture and politics. Most of the wreckage and micro-fragments had been found and removed by those massive tractor-sweeps that attracted and phased the garbage from existence. Traffic would be back to normal soon.

Strike Commander Starbuck was due to return from his impromptu trip to New Halana onboard the Khe Sahn. Adama had granted him the short leave, which he hoped would relive some of the emotional stress that the poor man suffered due to his loss of Cassiopeia. The breakup had affected him a lot more than Starbuck tried to let on and he needed the time to reflect. Adama secretly thought him a fool for letting her get away because the fact was he waited too long. When the loneliness had gotten too much for Adama, even he had Sealed himself with Siress Tinia, several yahrens past. Of course during those times of political intrigue and backstabbing, he didn't truly trust her at first, Tinia being a major player in the Quorum of Twelve, the ruling body that had managed to fight him at every turn during the great migration. But he'd found her to be a great asset, an intelligent, beautiful woman and most importantly, a person who was flexible enough in her thinking to keep the quorum members, especially Sire Uri, from undermining everything he'd work for to save his people. Adama had been gone for only a few days and he couldn't wait to get back to her and his family. Now however, he had guests to entertain here on the station, people who had traveled so far specifically to meet him.

His reconstructed quarters, located in the diplomatic section offered an outstanding view of those magnificent starships entering and leaving the station. Ships of several classes had parked inside the station recently including two Colonial vessels. He watched in awe and satisfaction as the cream colored, Sovereign-class USS Melbourne had docked several centons earlier bring with it passengers and several essential items not able to be replicated by Starfleet machines. And now the Enterprise was easing into the birth next to the Melbourne. Both of them together were a magnificent sight, much like his two Battlestars side by side, daring anything to mess with the charges under their care.

"It is magnificent isn't it," the woman standing next to him said.

He had to agree which he acknowledged with a shake of his head. "Picard should be here shortly. I read his report. That was unusual for a Captain to break communications silence with such information."

"He wanted the Romulans to know what he found. I'm sure that they would not have been so forthcoming to us," she added dryly. "But even if they don't understand, we're in this war together that doesn't exclude us from aiding their effort. Chalk it up to one of our multiple human failings," she mused. "One day they may actually learn a little more about us."

She felt his presence before she saw him, his aura calling to her like beacon. Captain William Thomas Riker was there at the docking gateway. "Will," she whispered while sending her thoughts into his mind. Their relationship was such that although not fully telepathic, he could read what she sent to him. His joy reflected back at her and in another moment they were in each other arms. It was unseemly to have a Captain kissing a First officer, but most people didn't care and it was a poorly kept secret anyway.

"How was your first combat mission as a first officer," he asked, all the while smiling that infectious smile of his.

"Frightening. Glorious. Full of sadness and satisfaction." Her happiness at seeing him was a reflection of his. "Did you miss me?"

"Absolutely," he responded, kissing her again. "There wasn't a minute on my milk-runs, that I didn't think about you." The USS Melbourne was still in shakedown mode, although with war looming on the horizon that could be shortened considerably. "When will the transfer come thru?" he asked remembering her promise of six weeks past to come and join him on his ship.

That stopped her short. She'd half forgotten about that. That worried her. The moment that Riker had obtained his ship it was assumed that she would be with him. She expected no less but this mission had changed everything. Being first officer for the last month and a half had changed her in ways she'd never imagined. "Will," she said finally, "we have to talk."

The man understood instantly. "You're not coming, are you?"

"Will," she said, evading the question slightly. "I can feel them."

"You mean the Cylons?" Yes, he was sensitive to her. "They're machines."

"Yes, they're machines, but I CAN feel them," she answered. "They're not like Data's emotions. You understand that with his emotion chip activated, I can feel his emotions," she stated evenly. "But this is something else."

"In what way?" he asked as his curiosity was up now.

"They exude a darkness about them. There's something resonating in their programming that I can detect. Once I realized what it was, it's become easier to detect. I'm getting better at it all the time."

Riker looked at her, his face losing its expression more and more by the moment. "You feel you be a better asset to Captain Picard rather than being my wife," he state flatly. "Plus you like being first officer."

This was the curse of being an empath. Unless one maintained complete control every emotion one felt or experienced expressed itself on one's face. And she never did have a good poker face when it came to her beloved. "Yes," came the answer.

"I understand," he said. And he did too. "I understand what it means to have that kind of responsibility. But, I want a compromise. Stay with Enterprise, but marry me now. And in whichever way you decide, we'll have each other," he whispered beginning to smile again. "Deanna, I love you," he said. Loudly. Those around him looked in his direction at the two of them. Then he gave her the ring.
Her eyes went wide as he finished placing it on her finger. Unable to contain her joy, she jumped on top of him causing both of them to hit the floor, legs everywhere. Their laughter was hysterical...and their joy, infectious.

A Vulcan male, moving past them looked at slight distaste at such a raw display of open emotion. His female companion almost smiled.

Humans, they both thought.

Evolutions were occurring.

Captain Picard's presence in front of the diplomatic quarters caused the sensor-chimes to ring gently and within a few moments he heard a muffled 'enter,' which allowed the double doors to slide open. He'd brought with him a favorite vintage wine from the Family vineyard in France. Months ago the President had offered him something the Colonials called ambrosia and he loved it immediately. Its bouquet was different from anything he had tasted before and he hoped that Adama's response to this delicate white wine would be equally reciprocated. As he entered the room he stopped short, just for a second, shocked by the four other people present, each returning his stare.

The first person that caught his attention was someone he'd all but forgotten about; in fact thought he'd never seen again. The man was older now, thinner and bore ample evidence thru his eyes, the horrors he had endured over the last few years. But even so, there was still strength in his presence, that same potential of being one of the greats. His internment hadn't broken him. He wasn't in uniform not but that was to be expected. He could never be Starfleet again.

"It's good to see you again, Lieutenant Riker," Picard evenly.

Ex-lieutenant, now, sir," Thomas William Riker said shaking the Captains hand. "I lost that during my hijacking of the Defiant." He'd come so close to preventing the opening salvos of the Dominion war. That hijacking cost him everything. The price was the loss of Deanna, his commission, his freedom. Everything. But never would he admit he was wrong in his intent. -

-Because, he wasn't.

Thomas William Riker was the unfortunate victim of a distortion field and a dual signal transporter accident, which created two William Rikers, one of which had been trapped for years on the planet, Nervala Four. Both Rikers claimed to be the real one. Both were correct. However, William and Thomas, to put it mildly irritated one another, or much more to the point feared and envied one another. Each felt their individuality had been jeopardized. They should have become brothers, which they were. Instead, they ran from one another's presence.

Their lives couldn't have deviated further from one another if they had tried. Thomas, looking for meaning in his life, rebelled against Starfleet's foolish stance against their colonists, at the same time, trying to appease the Cardassians who were killing them, joined the Marquis resistance, hijacked the Defiant, illegally entered Cardassian space and exposed a conspiracy. For Thomas' crimes he was sentenced to life in a Cardassian prison camp, Lazon Two, but that was commuted after almost four years as the war with the Dominion ended. No one cared about the charges anymore and Riker's charges were more or less forgotten about. Frankly they had more problems to worry about than one human no one cared about anymore. When he was released and sent to Bajor, he weighed just over one hundred thirteen pounds. It took a year for him to physically recover from the ordeal. Eventually, he got a transport to Earth and spent another year with his father. By mutual consent, William never knew.

In the corner of his eye, a woman walked briskly towards him. "It's nice to meet you," the woman said, moving forward to shake Picard's hand. She exuded a commanding, yet relaxing presence that made him take notice. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place the face. "I'm Kathryn Janeway," she said. "And these are two members of my crew, Commander and Anika Hansen-Chakotay, formally known as Seven of Nine."

Picard's placid smile broadened significantly. "Forgive me," he responded warmly. "I didn't recognize you. I've seen your picture countless times, but just now I couldn't make the connection."

He looked again with renewed interest at the assemblage and at Seven in particular. He could see the Borg implants on the side of her face, partially covered by her long blond hair, which caused him to respond with a stab of fear within himself. And he knew of the Marquis history of Chakotay also. There was pain in those memories.

Ro Laren, she who could have been.

"Captain Picard," Captain Janeway began. "It appears that just about everyone in this little group have something in common."

Madre, Picard thought. The Borg and the Cylons. Machine beings. His mechanical heart almost leaped out of his chest.

"I received a visit from my Q and my godson, Q," she said, "just recently and he gave me a warning."

"Your godson is Q's boy?"

Janeway simply waved her hand as she and they sat down. "It's a long story," she said, eyes rolling. "Remind me to tell you about it some time." Just thinking about made her want a taste of coffee. "He refused to give me details." Typical. "But it seems that we three have targeted for extermination by the Cylon Empire."

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Adama stared, "Captain Janeway..."

"Kathryn, Please, Mr. President."

"Then please call me Adama." The President of the Colonial Government to a breath and recited a speech that he'd been restating over and over for weeks now. "As I've told Picard I hate being referred to by that title. Each one of us in this room has been cut off, and isolated from those we serve ad those we love. I believe that God has joined us in this commonality for a purpose. We will be instrumental in this coming war and how well we work together may determine the fate of the Alpha quadrant. I have consented to Thomas working as my liaison onboard the Galactica."

Thomas' background history served to cause Adama to fear transporter technology even more. He truly felt sorry for this poor man. Which Riker was real? And what did that say about the soul? Fate had been cruel to him, but it could very easily swing in the opposite direction and secretly, that was his and Kathryn's plan. Let the man have his chance.

"I have requested that the USS Voyager under the command of Captain Janeway be temporarily assigned to the Mariposa system to help us in our rebuilding and re-arming projects."

Janeway had found Thomas-searched him out actually-and convinced him to come with her to Deep Space Twenty-Three in the Starship Voyager. For some reason, she wasn't sure why, she'd become a purveyor of damaged goods. She had Neelix, a small time hustler trying to obtain water, when she 'd first met him. Then there was Tom Paris the then parolee, now Chief Navigator and medic...and his wife. Belanna was fun in the good old days she grimaced. And of course, Seven of Nine, once Borg, now individual with an ex- marquis husband who was First Officer of Voyager.

Voyager was scheduled to become a museum piece before this new threat emerged. Now that the war was official this small, but tough little scientific-survey, Intrepid-class starship would be needed and had been reconditioned accordingly.

"With our combined experiences with the Borg and Cylons I wish to begin mapping out a strategy to help protect this area of space, for our collective peoples. It appears that our mutual enemies will have to go thru our coalition before they can have access to the areas of space frequented by the Federation. I want the Galactica and the Pegasus to be the first lines of defense against the darkness threatening to engulf us all."

Half an hour later, Picard opened the wine and Adama his bottle of Ambrosia. Both bouquets filled the room with their unique flavors. Riker seemed content to be a part of the group, or at least he was trying to fit in. This was his chance to start over and he knew it. The Chakotays, still under the honeymoon influence, remained close to one another, ready for love, ready for adventure, fast becoming their own collective. Anika wasn't a part of Starfleet, but on Voyager that was a non-issue. As for Janeway, wine or ambrosia wasn't coffee but it would have to do. For a few moments as she looked at the newlyweds she reflected on things that could have been, if she had chosen another course. But now that trek was closed and like all the greats before her, she was moving on.

"Captain Janeway, I would have thought that you would have opted to teach at the academy instead of taking on another mission," Picard said as he continued to try to understand and anticipate this woman.

The ploy was subtle but Janeway recognized it instantly. The man was as subtle as a brick. She looked at him, smiling wispily. "We were gone for seven years and when I got my crew home safely, it took me three months before I began climbing the walls. I'm home but I'm ...infested with this need to get out and see what's going on. It's the explorer in me," she said laughing softly. "I never realized how much I would be affected by the journey. Besides, how could I refuse second level contact with our Beta quadrant cousins after I've had first contact with our Delta quadrant brethren? The scientist within is chomping at the bit."

"At what may I ask?" Picard was interested in her answer and maybe something more. For the life of him he thought that she and Dr. Crusher had that same aura of confidence. This made Kathryn...interesting to him.

Seven of Nine answered. "Are the origins of these Colonial humans related to the humans of Earth? Of course."

"But, we are related," Commander Chakotay said. "Biologically, they're identical to us, minus minor gene variations and some genetic drift due to our people being separated."

"Maybe," Janeway responded rather cryptically. "But, It was something that Q said that makes me wonder..."

What was her relationship with Q, Picard wondered, that he would trust this woman to act as his son's Godmother? Could he trust her?

Five Extreme-class Basestars, warped from the outer regions of the Katasi system. Their objective: the second of the Romulan home worlds. This was to be the first of the strikes aimed at the interior of the Romulan territories. The Supreme Imperium was pleased with these events. But problems with the Hellions sobered the Empires' mood.

"The Hellions have been too aggressive since they have become self-aware," the Imperium said to the assemblage of IL Lords. This would be the last time all of them would meet together. Seven thousand pairs of blood red eyes moved in synch, joined by their transceivers, to one purpose. "Let us hope that the restraints we have placed on them will be sufficient."

The Extremes were showing signs of being just as aggressive as their older counterparts. This was good for battle but bad for maintaining discipline. Their computer cores had been 'muzzled' but that lowered their fighting ability also.

"I am confident that they will," Lucifer stated smoothly, seated at his place next to his leader. Next to him stood Spectre, clothed in scarlet. "Extermination of the Romulan home worlds has begun. The Federation will follow. All humans will cease to exist and the Ruination Imperatives will be fulfilled."

"It is decided. Romulans first, then all Federation targets of opportunity."

"The humans will rush to help the Romulans," Spectre said.

"We expect them to," the Supreme Imperium answered. "The weapon will be online by that time. And while they rush to help the Romulans, they'll see their planets burn."

"As we command."

"No," said one IL series, which was not an IL at all. "By my command they will burn."
Iblis faded into nothingness.

Commander's continuing log, Apollo reporting: The Battlestar Galactica has a new mission now. We have a home now and our people are safer and happier than we've ever been in the last twenty-two yahrens. But we aren't safe yet. There's a war looming with an enemy far more dangerous than anything we've encountered previously. But there is also hope. We also have new, powerful friends. Correction, they're family and they've supported us with their words and their blood. Right now the Galactica is still venerable to the Cylon war machines, but every day we are becoming stronger and stronger. Very soon the Viper III's and Cobra upgrades will come online. The Adders are now undergoing refits on our planets surface with the first of them joining us within a sectar.

This is a tense time as our forces prepare for an enemy that will never sleep and never rest until the last human is destroyed. With others joining us, they will become targets also. But most of us agree that the war will not begin until the Romulan conflict is resolved. Whether we help them or not is now being debated. These Romulans have been very cool towards our overtures and my father suspects that they blame us for bringing the Cylons here. If that is true it bodes badly for our relations in the future, if any.

Not everyone has chosen to stay with so many choices available to them. Almost a forth have decided to emigrate to Earth. But the majority has decided to stay, preserving our culture, our way of life. Together we will stand and fight that which threatens to overcome us as the darkness comes once more. We will never allow the Cylons to force us to submit to our fears, our extermination. Never.

But for now our people are happy and our neighbors have accepted us with an enthusiasm that has frankly surprised us. Some of the younger members of the population have jumped at the chance to begin training in the service. They understand that the forces allied against us will destroy us all without a second thought. Our culture is our own, but already, I see the changes beginning. As I look at this new, next generation, it is my belief that they will become great warriors and together forge a new people, the likes of which we have never seen. If we survive, then in a few generations we will simply be just another part of this vast majority and all our trials, tribulations, and mistakes and will be a part of some history archive. For my family, and myself I find that that will be enough. We have fled from tyranny long enough. Now it is time to make our stand.

The Battlestar Galactica, two Klingon bird-of-preys and three Starships, continued their orbital sweep of the Mariposa system. Their fight would not begin yet and there would be much to prepare for. But the survivors of the great migration promised this: The Battlestars, twin protectors of the ragtag fleet would be the first vanguard in the line of fire against the enemies that they had brought with them. Their people had been harassed enough. God help them.
***

Q and his son, Q watched the protectorate fleet as it orbited some ten A.U.s outside the planetary system. Clearly, his son was troubled and he was as impatient as any of his people, even more so, because he was a kid. Q looked at his son and said the one thing he knew would irritate his child more than anything else. "Be patient, son."

"I knew you would say that."

"Of course, you did," Q responded mildly. "By the way I was impressed your control. You did the correct thing with Aunty Kate."

"But why didn't she tell them?"

"Because humans like to carry things close to their chests, so to speak. Kate doesn't know Picard and Adama well enough to lay all her cards on the table, yet. And we know how stiff Picard can be but..."

"Aunty Kate is different. When the truth finally comes out it will be interesting how the three of them will have to work together."

"What about Iblis?"

"I can't touch him." But inwardly Q wanted to, in much the same way as Captain Sisko had touched him so many years ago back on that dreary Deep Space Nine. "His plan is ingenious, I must admit. He's a long term planner."

"They'll stop him," young Q said confidently.

His father gave his son that dubious look once more. "Not if the Cylons finds the little ones before Janeway and the rest..."

"The Cylons are unaware of their existence so far. But when they do find out, then we can kiss all organic life in this galaxy goodbye if they find it. It would really be a pity, actually. An inadequate species that prevails in spite of their considerable limitations, that's the definition of humanity. But humans and some of the others have possibilities though, and," Q added, "I trust Janeway and Picard to prevail. They always do, despite the odds."

"I hope so."

Q looked at his son, rubbed his head and answered in a voice that made his son tremble. "So do I, son. Nothing is promised."

To be continued in Ruination war ‘Evolutions: Gleanings Past and Future

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-18 11:36am

Dedication
Again I have to thank B.J. Thomas who wrote 'Dark Dawn' and 'Deceptions' in 1994. I also thank Mr. Louis Miller for allowing me to use his characters in 'Evolutions. Mr. Louis Miller's story involving the Khe Sahn and its crew fit so well with my ideas that I begged him to let me use a few of his characters, which he graciously consented. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again. The story 'Evolutions' demand that I continue so I will as I have promised. To all the people who have written me: THANKS for everything. I promise to make it interesting.

Thank God for the PC because if I had to type this no one would have ever seen it.

Albert Green Jr.
G3607273@yahoo.com

Authors note: This story takes place immediately after 'Evolutions' and should be considered an addendum of the same. However, they are short stories unto itself and it contains material background information related to 'Evolutions' and the upcoming 'Ruination Imperatives" storyline. For background information, you have to read 'Evolutions'.
Enjoy.

ADAMA'S STORY AND 'THE CONVERSATION' IN A SEPERATE POSTING SHOULD BE CONSIDERED PART OF THE SAME PORTION OF THE STORY. SIMPLY AN ADDITION. AG

Evolutions-Gleanings past and future version 3.0
Stories of the Ruination War

I. Adama's story
II. Tigh's story
III. Q's story
IV. Treaties and Bargains

***

I. Adama's story
Gleanings: defined thusly: to gather information and or materials bit by bit. To get a taste of.

Chapter One

Deep Space Twenty-three:

President Adama, Colonial representative of what was now quietly being called the 'United Systems Republic', sat relaxed in the company of two Federation Captains. This would be Captain Picard's (who by the way brought him the most exquisite berry-flavored alcoholic beverage directly from Earth) last day at the station. His assignment would take him back to the Romulan neutral zone, nowadays a hotbed of Cylon activity. The female Captain, Kathryn Janeway, was assigned to the Colonial protectorate. Another war against those mechanical maniacs thought. Untold numbers of people destined to die and for what?

The white-haired Colonial warrior allowed a moan to escape, something that was happening far more often these days. Somehow, his ancient enemies had grown so powerful that the United Federation of Planets was now at risk, something that should have been impossible. With the Federation's powerful Starfleet, the Cylons he'd known and fought for so long should have been a minor nuisance. Now the abominations were creating super Basestars while in the middle of a blood feud with Romulan Empire. It was simply a matter of time before the war spilled over into Federation territory. The Cylons had made that perfectly clear. Humans and anyone who helped them were to be exterminated. No exceptions. No
compromise. No Choice.

The war was coming.

That was one of the main reasons why he was here as part of the Diplomatic Corps for the Mariposian-Colonial remnants and the Ligon people who'd applied for membership in the Federation. However, the process would take a minimum of seven to ten years-standard procedure- to be completed and the application finally approved. Although associated with the Federation, their territory wasn't part of the Amalgamation. Therefore, they were at a crossroads, at the eve of Armageddon. Now, they could put their trust in the Federation completely. But as he and his advisors spoke of that they realized that that could be for the good or ill of their people.

On the other hand there was another choice. They could create their own Republic, a new Republic, wedded in close association with their next-door neighbors. A Republic in possession of two soon to be state-of-the-art Battlestars, a small but growing fleet of smaller destroyers, cruisers and new Viper Threes, two solar systems thrown in, plus the support of the Federation. And if they so chose, their own independence, until the integration process was completed. These were just some of the choices that the President and his co-partners, Sire Uri and Sire Forsen, Colonial diplomatic attachés, were faced with. What they did now would determine the direction and ultimate fate of their people. There were choices to be made.

But right now survival took priority over politics. And it was time to reveal secrets.
***

Adama enjoyed his time with the two Captains. They were a study in contrasts. He understood Picard to be, to say the least a complex man, with a multitude of demons riding his soul, but at the same time, those same demons didn't control him. Whereas other men would wither under the weight of the pressures this man had endured. Picard survived, and still maintained a quiet, dry humor. He hadn't become hardened. Hard like my comrade-in-arms, Cain, former Commander of the Battlestar Pegasus he thought. This man developed a love for combat that threatened the lives of everyone in the fleet during the Great Migration. Now that he was improving from his injuries daily, there were rumors that he would once again command the Pegasus. That was a lie but that old war daggit would do anything to command a new, improved Battlestar against these new Cylons, no matter what the cost. The present Commander, Sheba, his daughter no less, would not give up her ship easily. Her own personal demons were just being put in their place and a conflict between the two of them wouldn't bold well for either of them. That was just another problem that would present some serious difficulty in the near future.

Kathryn Janeway-so strange that these people insisted on double and even triple names- was cut from a completely different cloth entirely. His assessment of her brought him to the conclusion that she was the more easily accessible of the two, the more matronly type of no- nonsense, 'I'll-listen-to-what-you-say-but-I'm-still- doing-it-my-way' type of Captain you could talk to.

She loved that bitter hot liquid called Coffee. Picard on the other hand, preferred that bizarre, hot liquid called Earl-Grey tea, while he himself, had developed a fascination for something called hot chocolate.

Three different people, three different personalities, three different approaches to the same problem. But Adama understood that there was something all three of them had in common, creating a sort of bond if you will. Their lives had been defined by loss and conflict against mechanical entities. Like it or not, the Borg and Cylons defined much of their careers and the way the saw the world. The three of them had been vanguards against the darkness these being represented. It molded their thoughts, precipitated previously unimagined actions and in a very sick way, gave hope to untold billions intend upon avoiding assimilation or extermination. They'd become symbols that stood against the coming night. None of the three were comfortable with that for the simple reason that each of them had stood on the precipice and fallen over.

More than once he'd imagined what would have happened if these two had commanded Battlestars during the loss of the colonies. Most likely there would have been four Battlestar survivors instead of two he mused.

For the last several centars, he'd been in contact with the Federation in general and Picard in particular, learning about them, their politics, their motivations, their joys and fears, of course their technology. The human interactions with so many other different species fascinated him. As civilized as these people were, Adama and the rest of his people had been half-surprised that they weren't at each other's throats far, far more than they were. The size of their grand experiment was eight thousand light-years across, truly staggering. But in actuality it was a lot smaller than it seemed. Some failures yes, but so many more victories-and this was the most important point because if the humans even could get along with silicon-based life forms and insectons- then maybe his people and theirs could get along with one another.

Casually, he walked over to both Federation officers, placed a small transparent glowing crystal between the two of them on the table and sat down. He watched as both officers attention were drawn to the eighteen-sided gem. Kathryn's interest was immediately peeked as the crystal glowed then faded to a dull pinkish color as she touched it.

Kathryn was obviously as captivated, as he'd been when he first saw it yahrens earlier. "It reminded me of some of fire gems at first," she said while fingering the gem. "But for the life of me, it seems to have the feel of a dilithium crystal."

This made President Adama smile slightly. He could tell that her scientific curiosity was coming to the fore, which was exactly what he wanted. Picard gently handled the crystal also, quietly agreeing with Janeway. Clearly, both of them had been entranced by this artifact and wanted more information. He intended to provide them with all of it.

"We call this the Aeriana, in honor of one of our twelve lost colonies and the woman who first discovered it. Our scientists spent several yahrens attempting to uncover some of its secrets and only now are we beginning to realize those dreams."

"Where did you find it?" Picard asked before Janeway could ask. Turning to her, he asked if this was some sort of dilithium crystal variation.

"I don't think so. I would have a full analysis done to be sure, with your permission of course," she queried Adama.

"Of course," he replied. "This is why I brought it to your attention. It contains a power unlike anything we've ever encountered in our travels. Each crystal has a self-generating power matrix. The pulse fluctuations are sometimes random and at other times they pulse together in perfect harmony. It appears they choose their own times, to well, communicate with each other. That's what our scientists current hypothesis is."

"Are you saying that these crystals are alive? Some sort of life form?"

"Possibly." Picard was one who answered the question. "The crystalline entity is another example of that type of life form as well as the Hortas that you're acquainted with." Adama knew of the Horta species. Those creatures were responsible for defending against the Cylon attacks on the USS Okada, also helped repair parts of the Battlestar Pegasus and saved many Colonials in the process.

Picard had also told him of the so-called 'micro brains' of Velara III. Those crystalline creatures required water and sunlight to survive and when joined together, they were perfect living computers. "Where did you find them?"

"It's a long story," Adama said, quite prepared to go into it.

"Most stories are," Picard said dryly, even as Janeway rolled her eyes in complete agreement.

"Well," he began. "During the second yahren. Year," he corrected, "of the great exodus, after a major battle with a lone Cylon Basestar, we came upon what we thought was a large asteroid field. It covered five light yahrens in diameter. What we assumed was an asteroid field was in actuality the remains of a long dead star, which went supernovae, some estimated two hundred million yahrens past. We were ecstatic. There was an abundance of heavy metals: lead, mercury, plutonium, iron, copper, if you can imagine it, it was there. There were trace metals in quantities enough to fill most of our largest freighters. Here, under the safety of rock and metal were resolved to build our first large fighting ship, about the size of your New Orleans class starship. It was boxy and very, very ugly, but it was ours and my people were overjoyed because it meant that we could fight back and not depend on the Galactica and Vipers only. We called it the Kinia, after a mean, armored, four-legged hunting mammal found on Caprica. It would take two yahrens to complete. During our time there, that's when we discovered the Aeriana. The fragment we found was half the size of the Galactica. As our ships approached it, it pulsated as though giving out some type of signal.
***

Both Captains understood immediately. They too had seen such diamonds in their travels, but never one dated so old. But it was equally obvious that this was not simply some oversized carbonized jewel.

"It seemed the perfect jewel to use in our ongoing laser research." Adama rose from his seat, his mind awashed with memories of that dark time. "Our very first experiment was a disaster. The laser prototype we designed worked far too well. This was a hand laser that was fired but once. We had discovered an amazing power source but we were unable to control it. Because of some process unknown to us, the crystal had taken the energy input and had magnified, changed that energy into something approaching the power of a star's core. The power ratio was calculated to be over twenty factors of the projected output. The reaction chamber was of course, never designed to withstand that kind of energy. The micro-pulse burned thru several sections of reinforced plating, breeched the outer hull, thereby opening the ship to vacuum. Four of our scientists died from the blast while several more were burned, suffering from radiation exposure. Anyone within twenty metrons from the beam's emission was injured. People were injured everywhere and that's when the trouble started, culminating in the loss of my Executive Officer and my best friend, Colonel Tigh."

"But, what about the protective shielding?"

"It was completely ineffective," Adama said. The memories swelled again threatening to drag him into the pit. "The energy pulse simply passed thru everything it touched."

"Your second-in-command, did he die in the incident?" Janeway asked.

Adama noticed that Janeway was particularly interested possibly due to the fact that she had lost her own first officer in the accident that trapped her in the Delta quadrant.

"No. We lost him and the others a couple of sectons- weeks," he corrected, "afterwards. During this time, we lacked many of necessities required to maintain a fleet of ships with three hundred thousand refugees. We manufactured our own medications, recycled water, develop weapons systems, and most importantly tried to maintain the moral of the remains of humanity."

"I can see that that would have been one of the most difficult problems you could have faced," Picard said. "There have been cases in which entire colonies were lost because of bad moral. The colony on Takilla three was a prime example. The colony lost all of its food supply due to bacterial infestation. Within weeks, the people had degenerated into savagery. By the time the USS Bozeman arrived, over half the people had died from the fighting and starvation."

"We were faced with a problem of a different sort," the president said softly. Then he continued, his voice hardening. "Our society wasn't perfect. We had many problems before the Cylons tried to destroy us. One was our legalization of narcotics. This was something many of us opposed even after over a thousand yahrens of availability, but always the council overruled our objections. The so-called hard, addictive drugs were banned, however the soft ones weren't. Since they were easy to produce our doctors use the soft drugs in the pain control managements. One of our researchers accidentally discovered a mutant variation of a common drug called amasitachromaine, am-chromaine for short, used for pain blockage. Most people simply called it Pleasure. It didn't require injections but worked as a topical agent, coupled with amazing pain reduction and non-disorienting attributes. That was the good point. The bad part was that am-chromaine combined with nervous tissue and became one of the most addictive substances we'd ever seen. Within a week, every patient treated, every doctor and support tech, touching those patients became addictive on the med ship. We quarantined the vessel as soon as we realized the danger, but it was too late for all of us. Hundreds of my people had been contaminated. People were killing one another for less than a half-milliliter of Pleasure. This resulted in the time we refer to now as the Pleasure Wars."
***

Picard had seen something like this before in which an entire planet had been intentionally addicted to a drug, disguised as a life saving drug, for years. When they finally recovered with a little help, or non-help as it were from the Enterprise, the repercussions towards those who'd addicted them in the first place were brutal. Here, he could only imagine what sort of horrors went on within the Colonial fleet. Personally he recoiled in disgust at the thought of something controlling him, enslaving him to do its will. It reminded him far too much of his time of slavery to the Borg. He remembered how much he'd fought against the seduction of it all and how easily it overpowered him. He willingly participated in the destruction of thousands of Federation officers and crewmembers. Oh yes, he'd fought with all his might, even when they implanted cybernetic probes into his brain and organs without the use of anesthetics. It felt as though he resisted them for days, when in truth it was what? Three quarters of an hour?

"Didn't you have a antidote for this drug?" he asked, pushing his memories back into the recesses of his mind and locking the door.

"Absolutely, but our people resisted the treatments," the President stated sadly.

"The two doctors who originally discovered the mutant were compelled to recreate fresh batches of Pleasure. These respected, professional people reverted to drug merchants. Their cartel actually murdered other citizens for credits to obtain critical supplies in order to manufacture the narcotic."

The Captain shook his head and stood up to straighten his jacket. "I assume that your Executive officer..."

"Colonel Tigh..."

"Colonel Tigh," he corrected, feeling the name around in his mind, "was assigned to handle the crisis?"

Adama nodded in the affirmative. "It became a military matter when our warriors began to be affected. Colonel Tigh got into a fire fight and was captured."

"Captured how?"

"Old-style ambush onboard the Astradon, an older freighter class ship. Before we were fully apprised of his situation. The kidnappers made their way to the Kinia, shot their way out of the asteroid field, activated the new tunnel-shift drive unit and got away before we could stop them. The last report we received was that Tigh had sabotaged the jump engines and it was no way they could alter the trajectory until the unit ran out of fuel. He set it so that if the generators were turned off the ship would blow up. We lost them all."

"And you have no idea what happened to them." That was a statement by Kathryn.

"I hope that they are still alive but I know that we'll never know. He was my best friend and I failed him."

Kathryn could feel the man's pain. Someone close to you being lost-literally-touched a nerve. The lost of his wife and younger son and his best friend... She understood what the man felt and she knew Picard did as well. The people she'd lost in the Delta quadrant grated on her soul, even now. But now, she had a touch more understanding of her new ally. As she learned on Voyager, knowledge and understanding were the keys to power and she had the feeling that before this was over, the Federation would need as much power as they could get. "It's possible that we do a search for your people," she said with a wink. "After all, if they could find me, they can find just about anybody." She thought hard for a second. "Maybe I'll ask my godson."

She almost laughed when she saw the look on Picard's face. Did he really hate Q so much? Somehow she doubted it. She suspected now it was simply a matter of honor.

Men.

President Adama smiled graciously at Kathryn's suggestion. He'd forgotten the simple balm, that the simple of having a sympathetic ear, was sometimes better than having a thousand medications. The fact was his friend was most likely dead, never knowing that his people had found their safe haven. It was another in a long line of heartache and loss that he would have to endure and for him it wasn't over yet.

Taking a sip of his hot chocolate, he made a silent toast to his friend-for-life, barely noticing the two Captains honoring him by doing the same. 'When I needed support, you were there. When I needed a friend, you were there. Wherever you are, in this reality or the next, one day we'll meet again'.

Looking at his two companions, he toasted them. "To life."

"To life," the Captains echoed.

II. TIGH'S STORY
Chapter Two

Colonel Tigh flopped ferociously into the command chair onboard the disabled colonial warship Kinia. The five bridge-crew members: Sensors operator, Navigator, Engineering, Comms operator and the Weapons control officer- acknowledged his presence but seemed oblivious to his tendency to abuse his command chair. It was a tradition that he'd upheld for the last five yahrens, done religiously as a reminder of what he'd lost and what he had sacrificed for the Galactica. Two yahrens ago he finally shaved his beard. It made him look younger but somehow less intimidating and he wasn't sure if he liked that or not. He was positive that he didn't like the way those wrinkles constantly cropping up on his dark- skinned face either, but well, age did that to you. So did bitterness and he still had plenty of that. He remembered how the kidnappers continually dosed him with am-chromaine in the mistaken belief that once fully hooked, he would do anything they wanted. And of all them, he despised Dr. Cassandria, their leader. She was the one who thought of stealing the prototype ship with the intention of firing on an unprepared Galactica. The woman was clearly insane to think that she could take over the Fleet Command. Later, he would come to understand that delusions of grandeur was just one of the symptoms of heavy drug users.

Another was obsession.

Cassandria had been in love with him, he later found out. He always knew she was interested but he didn't have time for personal romances, or so he made himself believe. The Colonial fleet needed everybody at top efficiency and being Sealed to someone he assumed, would have interfered with his performance. When she became addicted to Pleasure, her love turned into obsession and she purposely went after him. She was the one who introduced the narcotic to the ventilation ducts on the Astradon and the Kinia-which was still being completed-effectively addicting everyone on board ship.

In terms of obsessive compulsions however, the drug was as equally effective on him. He was he one who sabotaged the T-S drives. He was the one who vented all the medical supplies into space. Once activated by his voice command, the bridge controls activated, the engines powered up, auto- piloted the ship out of the asteroid field and kicked in the T-S drive unit and refused to turn itself off until it ran our of fuel, approximately three yahrens and untold light yahrens later. Even drugged, no one dared disable those engines while they were tunnelshifting thru what Adama would now call transwarp space. They wouldn't have been able to anyway because he had made sure that even he couldn't counterman his own orders. The tylium fuel source wouldn't be used up as tunnel shifting utilized an entirely different mechanism of travel. Old-fashioned lightspeed would be available when necessary. By his choice, he had effectively trapped all two hundred kidnappers and crew on an uncontrolled one-way journey to-wherever, on an unfinished ship. If oblivion and eternal travel were the price to save the Galactica, so be it.

With the ability to manufacture more drug crippled, everyone onboard experienced the most horrific withdrawal pains imaginable. Withdrawal from Pleasure-without the aid of counteragents took an average of thirteen days. The drug affected the nerve ganglions causing the nerves themselves to transmit waves on what was described as an itching pain usually centered near the chest and ocular regions. Seventeen people committed suicide; five people burned themselves to death in an effort to rid themselves of the pain. Eight people went blind as they tore at their eyes, the itching being unbearable. There were contusions, soft tissue damage, multiple breaks usually by people slamming themselves into walls and bulkheads. The only good thing gleaned from the whole experience was that once over the ordeal, the craving was completely gone forever unless one came into contact with the drug again. If one did then the cravings would begin until the purging from the body was complete.

Tigh remembered that discovery and the hysterical laughter that erupted from him that fateful day in which he had almost gone mad. Dr. Cassandria and her collaborators had recovered also and were in essence, their old selves again. That they were themselves again was totally meaningless to crew of the Kinia. It was too late by Tigh's standard and they were promptly placed in a make shift detention for the duration of their journey. By mutual recognized authority he became Commander of the Kinia and had even considered spacing his prisoners to save on life precious support. The crew, now separated forever from their loved ones and the relative safety of the Colonial fleet, was certainly in favor of the executions. But he decided against it because one: he didn't want that on his conscious. There were only so many humans left in the universe, assuming that the thirteenth colony didn't exist, and it would feel like he contributed to the genocide of his race.

And two: no one knew what opening a hatch would do in FTL transit. So they remained in confinement.

The ship itself was considered by the crew to be about two levels safer than a Cylon deathtrap. Life support was kept at a minimum to conserve resources. The weapons systems were online but only one of the lasers worked. Parts for the other system hadn't been delivered before the hijacking. Water was recycled over and over and eventually the taste remained no matter how well it was treated in the overstressed purifiers. The light speed drive was functional but the sensors were at best short ranged. Food wasn't a serious problem as the ship had been stocked to maintain a crew of four hundred for two yahrens. It wouldn't last forever. He didn't even want to think about the lack of decent clothing.

In order to keep moral from completely breaking down he instituted a strict regiment structure that kept everyone busy the majority of their work shifts. Even in such close, cramp quarters, fighting was kept to a minimum. It used up too much recycled air so the rumor went. People knew better but it appeared to be an effective deterrent in any case.

Though oddly beautiful, the same reddish-blue swirl, secton in and secton out for almost three yahrens- the effect of tunnelshifting- proved boring.

-And utterly lonely. They'd traveled without seeing a single star or sign of intelligence- with that one exception almost a yahren past.

The universe indicated to the Kinia that they weren't alone when they were scanned by another, very large vessel that appeared on their stern almost without warning. Whatever that huge spheroid shaped ship was -which had no apparent inertia drive units visible- had taken an interest in them and their plight. They were scanned and the crew was elated as Kinia tried every form of communication possible short of firing on it. The alien crew never responded to their cries of help. Evidentially, the beings didn't care and within moments the strangely designed ship accelerated away from them as though the Kinia wasn't moving. The bitterness that it left behind was apparent for centons.

***

Commander's log: Date one thousand fifty-two days post transit: Commander Tigh recording: For the last two days the T-S drive systems have indicted that we are near the end of the journey. We have not been able to ascertain exactly where or when we are. The temporal distortions inherent in our drives have brought us to some far future and unknown alien space. Will we find friends here or only more misery and despair? No one knows. We only know that we will never see Galactica or our people again. But our people have pulled together despite the difficulties that continually plague us. Two of the crewmembers have children despite my objections and now I find that I may have been wrong in dedicating myself solely to my career and crew. I have had to re-adjust my thinking. The people here have become family and I find it harder each day to maintain that professional distance. I remember when Adama began associating with Siress Tinia, I believed in my heart that this was one of his worse mistakes he ever made. Now, in my old age, I realize what a fool I've been. Perhaps it was my family training. I'd always felt that it was important to Seal with someone of my class status. Maybe from that beginning, I might have over compensated in my assumptions. I believe that onboard this ship I have found my soul mate. Never would I have believed this and with a junior engineer no less! She's so much younger than I am but my heart soars when we're together. It's been for her and the crew that I have stayed in the race.

The signal the entire crew had waited for suddenly made its presence known. With a start, they were once again in normal space. The stars again! How beautiful! Tigh took a second to take in the sights, then, command mode took over. "Where is the closest star system?"

"Seven light-yahrens distant," came the answer from Genohena, the helmswoman. She was a perky blond with dark green eyes that always seemed to sparkle. "With light speed, twelve days seventeen centars."

'Not bad'. Opening the comms to engineering he was instantly rewarded with his beloveds voice. "Dianne here. I assume you want light-speed if so take it easy. I don't want you blowing us up trying to get us there."
He smiled to himself. She always spoke like that, gruff, with a voice that was at times lower than his. She was short, in her early thirties and about his same chocolaton complexion, with absolutely no sense of style when it came to clothing-if they had only. The woman was the opposite of everything he'd imagine a mate to be. "We'll get there in one piece."

The navigator activated the light-speed jump engines and the ship arced towards its intended destination. The ships engines responded jerkily, due to the face that they hadn't been broken in but no one cared. For the first time they controlled the direction they wished to travel in and the crew reveled in that fact.
***

The first system with fifteen planets had proven to be devoid of life. However the asteroid fields contained valuable minerals and water in the form of ice. That in itself was a Godsend. They would spend four days prospecting before moving on. The next star system was five light years distant and they made it halfway there before they were attacked.

The assault was swift, brutal and completely unprovoked. The Kinia rocked sideways with the impacts from the high-energy weapons. The tunnel shift drives were completely destroyed and the FLT engines had been damaged. Escape would be impossible. The only things left were the sub-light engines and this had been only the first attack. There were two ships, both which flew pass them with blinding speed slowly arching, preparing for another attack run.

"Evasive, and positive shields now!" Tigh yelled. The order had been unnecessary as both helmswoman and weapons officer leaped into action. "Return fire." The single laser battery fired its white-hot pulses scoring a hit-

-On some type of force field protecting the enemy ship, which was rapidly returning for round two. Both ships passed by, slowly raking the Kinia with disruptor fire. The laser battery was destroyed and their precious life support system was damaged. As smoke began to fill the bridge the damage computron spit out the ships condition. There was no need to say anything to the bridge crew-they understood exactly what the situation was.

'We didn't have a chance!' his mind roared. "Everyone prepare to abandon ship! This is no drill! Prepare to abandon ship!" One more hit and the fuel would turn the ship into an inferno. There was no choice. "Dianne! Get your crew out! Abandon ship!"

"It's too late!" Gena screamed. She had remained at her station even while it burned. "They're on top of us! Twelve microns!"

It was over. There was nothing he or they could do. There were fires everywhere and it was spreading rapidly. Within moments the explosions would begin and his little ship would tear itself apart. He desperately pushed the half-blind bridge crew in front of him towards the escape pods.

They never made it.
***

"Did we get them all?" The Captain was anxious. The two ships had been tracking the distress call for the last two days and evidently they'd gotten to this beleaguered ship just in time. This was her first real firefight and the initial fear and excitement had now given way to a fierce determination. Her ship had transported the crew of that doomed ship all the while firing on the two pirate ships. Her sister ship, the ASC Endurance kept up its own firing destroying the shield of the second ship. Both pirate vessels moved off as the two Alliance Star Corps ships took up station keeping near the now wrecked Colonial cruiser. 'Those pirates were getting worse and soon we're going to have to deal with the lot of them' she thought viciously. 'We shouldn't have had to start out this way'.

The chief medical officer was shocked when she saw her patients. She called the bridge immediately. "Captain, they're human!"

"Are you sure?" This was incredible. The scans had indicated as such but the reality came still came as somewhat of a shock.

"There's no doubt," came the answer. "Their language is totally different from anything on our database and we're having trouble communicating. They've appeared to be out here for a long, time and their blood chemistry is way off the charts. We're treating them for both short and long term illness and injuries. It seems they've never seen transporter technology before. They're a little disoriented, but very excited to see us, as well."

"I'm on my way down."

When she got there, she was greeted by a tall black man, she estimated to be in his early sixties. His arm was broken and he suffered from smoke inhalation but his eyes were clear. And the man wanted answers. He started talking and the more he did the better the universal translator did its job. He asked who were they how were they saved and the condition of his people-or so the Alliance translator deciphered.

She came and sat down next to him. "Everything 's okay. We received your distress call some time ago," she said in what she hoped was a soothing voice. It was clear he was confuse by her language. "I know you don't understand me, but I hope you will understand what I'm trying to convey. I am Captain Amelia Earhart of the Alliance Starship Explorer."

The Commander, a woman in her early forties with reddish hair, cut short definitely had that human look about her. He asked a question. It came out as gibberish through the universal translator.

"This ship and the Endeavor," she added, subconsciously pointing towards a bulkhead where she estimated that her sister would be located, "are part of a small but growing number of worlds banding together to deal with Kazon pirates and other opportunists which prey on our systems. But mostly, our Voyager-class starships are engaged in the business of exploring the universe around us."

"This ship," she continued, "is a smaller, less sophisticated version of our home planets Federation starships, one of which visited us some five years ago.'

"{Gibberish. gibberish again}... Federation?"

"No Alliance, patterned after the Federation. From the planet Earthin the alpha quadrant." She noticed that the man perk up considerably at the word 'Earth.'

"Yes, my planet is called Briori-Earth Prime. Are you from Earth?" she asked. Did Captain Janeway send you here?"
***

'Earth? Was this person truly from Earth'?

Tigh slumped down. Was this the Thirteenth colony? His head swirled with the possibilities. Maybe this was an Earth ship or maybe not: he didn't know yet. With time he would come to understand but right now, his people were safe... he could feel that. This ship was amazing and he suspected he and his crews immediate future would be full of surprises. From what little he'd seen, the Cylons wouldn't have an easy time of it here with this ship's technology.

And they were human, family. He thanked God for his fortune. What ever would come, would come. He hoped with all of his heart that the Galactica would find a safe haven also.

"Well, that ended well," the entity said sarcastically. "Personally, I don't think you cut it close enough." He was on top of the ruined Colonial ship kicking at the ruined bulkhead indifferently. "I still say that you sent out that distress call far too early."

"Shut up, Trelane." Q said.

"Amanda," Trelane stammered. "I know you were brought up human, "he said in mild but polite distaste. "But why this obsession with them?"

"You'd never understand." she answered.

"Then tell me, Amanda Rogers of Q," Trelane said.

"Come, little kid."

She disappeared and an instant later, Trelane followed.

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-18 11:44am

III. Q's STORY
Chapter Three

Time (2376 A.D. five years before the Galactica reaches Federation space.)

Amanda (1,2) materialized on a barren rock some distance from the Endeavor and Explorer with Trelane (3) following her closely. She was in her late twenties and she blond hair was even longer than when she was just a girl on the Enterprise so long ago. She had decided that she liked the look of being a twenty-six year-old and she intended to keep herself that way for the next few millennia. And it was clear for anyone who'd care to see that Trelane was completely smitten with her.

Once again she marveled at the boy, equivalent teenager actually, at how quickly he was maturing, considering how obnoxious he was when she first met him. Those had been rough times for her. Her adjustment to the Q continuum hadn't been pleasant. The other members either didn't speak to her or considered her some type of freak. Only Q would speak to her with any type of consideration for her feelings. Her parents had been condemned to death by the Q simply because they chose to be different, in this case becoming human and living on Earth. They had forsworn their powers and lived a happy, contented, simpler life- without their powers.

They had a child the human way and all of them were happy. Then everything fell apart. A small indiscretion and the powers-that-be had her parents killed. "Couldn't have super powered entities running amok' they said. They lied.

They were afraid of change of any kind. The status quo had to be maintained or there would be disharmony and they couldn't have that. Stagnant people always used that excuse to destroy something different. She was almost killed herself but Q intervened because, deep down he knew that she was exactly what the Continuum needed but were too afraid to admit. William Riker's attempted seduction into the Continuum was the case in point. Now, faced with the reality-her-they couldn't handle it. But a lot had changed since those terrible days of loneliness and despair.

First came Quinn's death. And then there was the war. It happened so quickly with the ultimate result of little Q, that little monster, being born. No longer was she under the microscope. She was stable. Baby Q something else. Even his own mother couldn't stand to be around him for long periods of time. Q was worse than his father. In other words, he was his daddy's child.

The entire Q were in an uproar. They couldn't terminate baby Q and they couldn't let him run all over the universe. They were trapped. It was the best time of her life. Finally! The Q realized that she wasn't as bad as they thought.

The common phrase was 'why could Q be more like Amanda?' It marked the beginning of her freedom. Suddenly they trusted her not to do anything rash. They had more important things worry about, like that little brat exploding pulsars every chance he got. He liked things that went boom.

Meanwhile, Amanda decided to take a detailed tour of the galaxy and in order to keep the rest of them off her back, she went to Lady Q, Q's wife, and asked her what would be nice to see since she was still a little kid- compared to these ageless creatures-what would be of interested to her, a learning experience as it were. Q was flattered to death and she told Amanda of every sight worth seeing. Carefully Amanda went on her tour and did nothing to upset the rest of the Q. That trip was the catalyst that pulled the Q over. Trust had been established and most restrictions were lifted.

Now she was beginning her second tour of a more profound nature when she met Trelene. It was clear that he was a touch more powerful than she, but for all that he was basically a kid. He'd left his foppish older image he was so fond of, a hundred and fifty years ago. Now his personal self-image was that of his relative age, approximately eighteen. The hair was still dark and he still had those god-awful sideburns, but he was a touch more reserved. He was actually nice, well almost, but he did have this one fault. He'd chosen Q for his mentor. He suspected that Q wasn't always pleased with him and when baby Q was born, Q had deserted him, had told him to grow up and get a life. Amanda realized that the boy was lonely. She'd never have any peace ever again if she couldn't control the situation. She gave him a little focused attention and he became her friend for life.
***

Trelane on the other hand had almost ruined this friendship before it began. For some reason, he never understood until later, he had been attracted to this human female on Uoknia IV. Humans had never been that far from their home world before and he was curious. Why was she there? Where was her ship?

Remembering Uhura fondly from the days of his wayward youth, the young entity re-imaged his self to human form and boldly approached her in a way he hadn't done to anyone else before. He didn't understand why he did what he did until much later. For some reason this blond female intrigued him and he wanted to make a lasting impression. Moving majestically through the crowd towards her, he stopped, faced her. He batted his eyes like that Captain Kirk did once and smiled magnificently.

"Hello," he said. "My name is Trelane and I'm God."

Then he patted her on the butt. Actually, he grabbed it. Well, essentially, his hand performed a complete examination.

That turned out to be the biggest mistake in his young life. He discovered this important point when Amanda proceeded to kick him into low Uoknia orbit. Seconds later, he reappeared next to her, stunned-and more than a little hurt- at this little nothing that...that-

"You're Q!" he stammered. "But how? I saw you. You were human, then, your aura changed to Q! How did you do that?" he yelled at her. "You are duality!" she'd hurt him and he was supremely angry, but even more afraid of her. Not even Q had resorted to physical violence. Her response was so ...so human.

"I've heard about you, brat," she growled. "How dare you touch me like that?"

Several hundred things flashed thru his mind in a nanosecond. Utmost on his mind was his parent's potential response when they found out what he'd just done. He had more power than this, this person. He could feel it. But he really didn't want to start a fight, because everybody of course, would blame him, even if she had started it.

-Which she did. So he did the only thing he could do. "I'm sorry. I promise to never to that again. It was just that-"

"Save your excuses," she snapped at him. "Don't do it again." For a moment, he watched her studying him very carefully. Then she relaxed, which made him relax at little also. "I am Amanda. I am Q. You must be Trelane."

For a moment, he didn't know how to respond. It was flattering that his fame preceded him, but flattery could be good or bad depending on someone wanting to hurt him because of it. This Q intimidated him, but he didn't understand why. And she was so beautiful. Her energy matrix reminded him of his mother but different. He was confused.

Everything she had been told about Trelane could be summed up in one word. Unpredictable. His power was legendary, but she had two advantages. The first was that she was an adult female and he a mere teenager. The other was she was human who understood the powers of inflicting guilt. "What was this God thing? Is that how you want to introduce yourself to a woman?"

She watched him blush. "Most females seem to be impressed by it. Meeting God and all."

"She licked her lips. "You could have done much better and it would have work, too." The bait had been thrown out.

"How?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"Simple pleasantries are so much more effective than simply grabbing someone's butt. I wished you would have done that instead."

Throw in the guilt now. Make him whine.

"I said I'm sorry," he responded miserably.
***

She had him and a friendship was born. That bargain was sealed when Amanda personally went and talked to his parents about him accompanying her on her journey of self-discovery. He was ecstatic that he wanted him to come with her. They were ecstatic that someone actually him anywhere around them. Since she knew that he'd start following her everywhere she had planned her actions well. And the wonderful thing about it was that if Trelane acted up, then she could tell his parents. The boy was on a leash and didn't even know it.

"Why did you save those pathetic humans," he asked again. He always called them pathetic when he compared them to himself, but now she noticed there was none of the malice that used to permeate his comments.

"You said it a long time ago," she answered softly. "I am duality. I want to understand why in a whole universe of choices did my parents choose to become human."

"That's why you changed their temporal distortions to bring them to this time."

"Yes. They needed help while traveling in the Delta quadrant. The people here would help them."

"Don't you think that the distress call was over the top?"

"Not at all," Amanda answered. "You know they weren't earth-born."

"Yes," he agreed. ""But the Delta humans are."

Amanda watched the two Alliance starships go to warp. This fledging group of humans and their new allies were going to reproduce the same type of organization as their brethren in the Alpha quadrant...if they survived the Kazon and the Borg and the Ciona Imperixe. And if they did, then the two Federations would invariably join forces. When that time came, she intended to be there to see it. Right now though she planned to change the conversation. "Trelane, she asked. "Do you believe in God?"

"No," came the answer. "Q kept telling me that he was god or the closest thing to it but I didn't believe him. I think he was just trying to throw me off track. I think he was just trying to keep me from playing with his stuff because he kept thinking of ways to make me leave his Enterprise alone. That part was simply jealously because I had mine first. He played with his and called it testing but I know he just wanted to show me up. I still think Kirk was better than Picard because he had that pointy-eared Vulcan helping him all the time. I remember that I wanted to be just like Q. I copied everything he did and I tried to do it better. I tried to be around him as much as possible and but he kept leaving me in places like that quantum whirlpool. I remember one time before little Q he started screaming at me and I asked him why. He said because I acted like him and he felt imprisoned by his likeness. I told him he was perfect and I was going to prove it by copying him forever. The he started disappearing into the past, but that made me want to prove that I could follow him everywhere. And I did. Then..."

She just moaned. "Somebody, help me," she whispered. Loudly: "Trelane. Let me repeat myself. Do you believe in God?"

"I have never seen him or her," he answered flatly. "We're the most powerful creature in the universe but..."

"Yes. But." She became quiet for a moment. "Look at us. We are power. But what are we really?"

"What is all this talk about god? If you have a few centuries you can talk to my father. He knows everything."

'Then why couldn't he bring you up to be less of a nuisance', she thought. "Trelene let's go."

"Where to?"

"Kobol. There's something I want to see there."

The two entities arrived on top of massive pyramid situated in the middle of a desert-like, very dead planet. The planet had been stripped of its resources and the last remaining bits of plant life were slowly dying. The pollution had filtered out of the air long ago settling in the seas killing what was left of life in them.

"What a dreary place," Trelane whispered while examining the last remaining stargate in his universe's existence. "I don't want to stay here long."

Amanda agreed with him wholeheartedly. It had the scent of death here. "Gather yourself, Trelane," she commanded. "Join with me."

He didn't even think about it. Their powers blended, and the atmosphere around them darkened, became pitch black, then darkened even more. A small light appeared in front of them slow growing in size. Soon, the light appeared as a giant screen, dwarfing the pyramid.

"What are you doing?" Trelane was clearly uncomfortable with the events unfolding, but never stopped for an instant.

Locked in concentration, she answered tersely. "I'm creating a multiversal view of this planet. I want to see the possibilities that unfolded in other parallel universes. That's why I needed you to help me."

On their three -dimensional screen, twenty images of the Planet Kobol appeared conjuring an image of what marbles would look like if connected to one another. Both of them looked at their creation in wonder.

"The planet Kobol, so-called birthplace of Man here in the Beta quadrant. See there?" she asked him, pointing to a small dot rapidly growing in size as it decelerated preparing to orbit the planet. "That ship is the Battlestar Galactica in all twenty of these realities, coming to Kobol. Notice the sizes," she said. "Each one is a slightly different length although the configuration is exactly the same. This one," she pointed at the first planet, "will travel to earth space and meet with humans at something called Babylon-Five. Those two over there will reach earth in the late twentieth century. These six will never make it to earth. Those two will make it to Earth in the twenty-fourth century and meet their contemporaries and a temporal anomaly called Buck Rogers. One will temporarily connect with a runaway Earth moon which houses a small community called Moonbase Alpha. Two will meet the Goa'uld and the Stargate defenders called the Tauri. The rest, including our time line will meet various versions involving the Federation past and future. Now, let's take a look at their enemies, the Cylons."

Trelane stifled a yawn. "Not very impressive are they?"

"That's not the point, Trelane," she snapped. "Look at the variations. In most realities," she continued pointing at several worlds, "the Cylons are essentially cyborgs in various percentages. But in many realities, as they are in ours, they are completely robotic. Oh look!" she said with some surprise, pointing to one-dimensional reality. "The Cylons captured some people on that prison ship and turned them into cyborgs. But they escaped."

"Amazing! Those sociopaths developed into what we know to be the Borg in that reality!"

"It seems that this Kobol is a temporal nexus or maybe a focal point for multiple realities. The question is why?"

Trelane began to detect it also. "There's something not right here. It is a nexus."

"Yes," she confirmed. She looked around in wonder. "In this timeline, this planet, this Kobol, is the planet Earth. But the Earth is the planet Kobol."

"Oh, oh," Trelane murmured. "Somebody here really screwed up. I'm using an old Earth term there," he reflected. Then a flash of insight: "The anti-time situation?"

"The anti-time equation," she hissed. "How could the continuum have messed up like this? They created a quantum absurdity. It affected everything! No wonder they were afraid to get involved to clean up the mess."

"Wow. At least my parents can't blame me for this."
***

Amanda collected her memory of the events, trying to put them in perspective. In a flash she understood the full import of the continuum's mistake. When Q took Picard to Earth at the beginning of life on Earth in order to explain what was happening and why the galaxy was being unmade, two quantum realities that should have never been in one another's presence mingled, fought and produced a multiversal fracture that would change everything. Picard, from the Earth that is, stood on the Earth that was being subjected to anti-time flux. In that instant, that primitive, volcanic world was split into two equal planets and like identical poles of a magnet, were repelled from one another. One, the original Earth, remained where it was. The copy was flung to the edge of the Beta quadrant where it orbited a sun exactly the right distance away to sustain life. That world would become a home to an identical race of men and women, dogs and cats. The names would be different but the creatures would duplicate one another down the line. Earth. Kobol. More than clone. Duplicates.

Both planets could legitimately claim the honor of being humanities birthright.

"Do you see the pattern, now?" Amanda relaxed and the image faded.

"It simple," Trelane answered. "Q and my father told me that the multiverse follows defined patterns. What we see in one reality is somehow connected to what we see in another reality."

"Possibly, but I'm coming to the conclusion that there are forces that we don't understand guiding this existence of ours. The biologicals on both planets should not have developed identically no matter how close the original template was. But it did. "

"Please, Amanda," Trelane sniffed. "You're making something out of nothing. We are the pinnacle of evolutionary scale in the universe. There are no forces in existence that are above us."

"No," she retorted. "You're wrong. I am duality." She disappeared in a flash and a moment later was scooping a little of the brownish sand and letting it sift thru her fingers.

"I am what they wanted Will Riker to be. The one who could see past our stagnation, to move on to something greater."

Trelane phased in next to her. "I don't understand." By the look on his face, he didn't either. "What do you mean greater?"

"Both our people have lost something in our quests to be supreme in the universe. We have lost that spark that gives us that desire to improve." She looked at him what that look and Trelane almost melted. "We have mental and physical abilities far beyond anyone else. But our spiritual development is non-existent. We've sacrificed it for other, seemingly more important things and therefore we have lost our standing with that we call God. That is why the Q have been ultimately miserable, so afraid of death. If we are to survive even with all our powers, we need to start experiencing what we've feared for so long. We have closed in on ourselves in too tightly, like misers withso much, yet so little."

"Then," he asked softly. "What do you see, Amanda?" he was confused by what she was trying to convey to him, but NEVER would he dismiss her out of hand.

"I begin to see something that has gone out of its way to make us not see it for what it is. The barest glimpse of something greater than we are. I think that it's trying to make us remember again how important faith is for powerful creatures such as us."

The young male was clearly disturbed by her words. "Amanda, we are power. We can do anything we want. We can control it all. That's what we are. I can't have faith in something I can't control."

"You may have too. Eternity is meaningless if we are all that there is. I'm beginning to see that we can be more than we are now." She laughed and her voice soared like a gentle breeze. "Who knew when I became Q that I would start placing my faith in something I can't understand?"

She disappeared. A frightened Trelane followed.

Appendix

1. Q: defined as an individual or group of entities; collectively call the Q, which resides as a whole, in the Q continuum. These supremely powerful beings are the self appoints agents of order in the universe. These self appointed agents of order have a tendency to define their names and personas as Q and Q only. Henceforth it is imperative that one concentrates carefully on the texts in which they are mentioned as several Q may be mentioned at one time causing confusion to reign. For some reason - simple arrogance is suspected- the Q have tendencies not to define themselves in any other form other than the letter Q. Repeated requests for clarification have not been answered, other than to express their standard statement 'we are Q. We know who we are.'

2. Three hundred years after the rescue of Commander Tigh and the Colonial survivors of the Colonial Warship Kinia by members of the then Alliance Star Corps, Federation temporal scientists discovered evidence of temporal tampering in that immediate region of space which most likely caused the Kinia to drop into normal space so close to the Briori-Earth home world in the Delta quadrant. To quote one temporal scientist who studied the phenomenon, "there was no way that the Kinia, which was in an uncontrolled flight path would have deactivated at exactly the right place and more importantly the right time in order for the crew to be saved by another branch of previously unknown humanity." Amanda of the Q who graciously volunteered the information to the temporal archivists in 2743 A.D confirmed this theory. The Kinia crewmembers were saved approximately four years after the departure of Voyager (2376 A.D.) from the Briori-Earth home world, but one year before its arrival home.

3. Trelane: an entity usually associated with the Q and the Q continuum and thought to be Q.

However, recent events seem to suggest that he is NOT Q. Evidence is provided as follows in a recent news article dated approximately two weeks after the return of Kathryn Janeway and the USS Voyager.

There was an altercation between Klingon and Terran scientists yesterday at the Semi-Annual Symposium of Esoteric Quantum and Spatial Anomalies and Mechanics, Temporal Phenomenon and Higher Entity life forms. The earth-born scientist Dr. Angeles Hermano presented new bits of information, which suggests that, the entity known as Trelane, may not be part of the Q. His arguments were summed up thusly:

:Trelane is a youngster who initially required instrumentation in order to actualize the environment around him, namely aggravating one Captain James Kirk and crew. The child known as Q does not have this limitation and has exhibited a growth rate that appears to have accelerated past Trelane at this point in their respective existences.

: His name is Trelane, not Q. That in itself is suggestive.

: If Trelane is a child and evidence provided by the Enterprise crew of that time confirms this, he could not have been Q since we now know that the child Q (other than Amanda) is the first child conceived in more than several millennia. Trelane's parents were clearly accounted for by Kirk. Also, the parents were respectful to so called lower life forms (mortals), a trait not normally associated with the Q.

: Both Trelane and Q exhibit analogous abilities so it has been hypothesized that the Q and Trelanes may be equivalent, to be similarly compared to the differences between humans and Betazoids, very similar but with unique attributes characteristic of their species.

Theorist Kraqq of the Klingon Science academy vigorously disputed this hypothesis stating that those so-called clues could be easily explained by a number of different possibilities. Then he called Dr. Hermano 'a human pitaggih wallowing in molded filth' for daring to bring up such a pathetic argument.

Hermano responded by suggesting that his parents should have waited a couple more minutes before conceiving him. "In that way, maybe that child would have had an increase of at least two points in its IQ quotient. He, she or it would have been far superior that the intellectual reject facing me now."

The resulting melee landed several high-ranking scientists in the local detention area. The Trelane theory is still being discussed at this time. Reporters interviewing an angry Dr. Hermano quoted him as saying, "these Klingons think they're so bad. I come from a little town from Colombia on Earth. I can show them what bad means."

Author's note, personal opinion: In science those small differences can determine whether things are related or something entirely different. I have come to believe that Trelane is NOT a Q. However, I believe his race is so close as compared to the Q's phenotypically as to make no difference. Future analysis by Paramount and the creators of Star Trek would do much to clear up this...difference of opinion.

IV. Treaties and Bargains

Chapter Four
Of paramount importance to any successful campaign, is the accumulation of relevant data on the enemy. This was the major lesson learned by the Cylon Empire as they made war against the Colonials for over one thousand yahrens. That they made war against the humans was attributed to them as 're-aligning the official order of the universe.' The humans had violated their sovereign right to rule their domain, which in this case, was the universe at large. The universe itself had other plans and other Powers simply ignored them much as a man might ignore a single ant underneath his foot. Their fleet of forty relatively primitive Basestars would have been considered laughable when compare to that of the Dominion, the Breen, the Federation, the Klingons, and a host of others with far superior technology at their disposal. Having never met them the Cylon Empire, relatively isolated in a corner of the Beta quadrant, didn't understand and didn't care about those abstract concepts. What they did care about was the constant loses to those weak organics called Man, who, with their ever-evolving technology kept the Cylons at bay. Their programming demanded that the 'human organic paste' be removed from existence as an example to others to remain in their places. There was no hatred of the human race, as machines had no feelings, they were simply an object to be removed. In other words, during the thousand yahren war, the Cylon warriors-indeed their entire mechanical culture-one could accurately describe their actions as ant-like. Out of instinct, ants make war also, simply because that same instinct in programmed into them. The Cylons did the same. Programming was all.

Count Iblis was the master programmer.

The programming was simple-make war, kill and destroy, thereby causing misery. He did not expect them to actually win the war, simply make everyone miserable. He enjoyed conflict because it was opposite of everything he'd been taught. He enjoyed his playthings, the weak, as compared to him, mortals that toiled and died by his wishes. To them he was a dark god and he reveled in their terror. But he was simply one among many, forced to conform to their laws. His powers were limited when it came to playing with mortals. How he hated that. Now mortals were his coveted prizes only if they came to him of their own free will. Then he was free to do anything he so desired. He didn't expect the Cylons to defeat humanity, but just in case they came close, he added an extra bit of programming, something he christened the 'Ruination protocols', designed to prolong the conflict as long as possible. When the Colonials actually did lose and began running for their pathetic lives, the plan had been modified. If the humans ran in the direction he hinted at when he first encountered the Galactica, maybe his plan would bare fruit.

Despite the odds, the Colonials made it to the Alpha quadrant and he was elated. Because his children followed-they always followed- he saw his chance. When the Cylons reached the edges of the T'kon ruins, all he had to do was press a button. No powers were needed at all to conquer a galaxy, all because he followed their rules. He would have all the mortals he ever wanted to love him and nobody could touch him.
***

Year [Earth date: December [2377]

The Extreme-class Basestar Turrent, flagship of the new-improved Cylon Empire-a third larger than their cousins, jet-black in color, twin distortion nacelles situated just outside the classic double hulls- exited to normal space three weeks after they left the Katasi Star base. As advanced as the propulsions systems were, tunnel shifting allowed one's ship to travel basically in a straight-line direction. Stars, black holes, pulsars, or any phenom na that happened to be in the way usually were causes for catastrophic endings for one's journey. Then the temporal distortions had to be taken into consideration also so that one would not end up ones distant future. Therefore by definition, the T-S mode of travel had to be used with extreme care. The journey look the Turrent eight thousand light-yahrens distant from Katasi to the Tetragupta region, more commonly known as region J-28. This area of space was basically devoid of life and any stars of interest. The double star that the warship orbited contained only three Jupiter-sized planets and a myriad of asteroid belts. The ship slowed to point zero one c, finally stopping three million kilometers from the star's corona.

The navigations officer an armored, silver colored centurion revolved its head and addressed its Commander in a cold monotone metallic voice. "Commander Yuall, station keeping has been established."

"Acknowledged," the gold leader said in even a lower voice. It would be the last communication using vocalization during the remainder this voyage. Indeed vocal communication wasn't needed as internal subspace transceivers kept them in constant contact with one another. The Cylons had progressed into a form of hive mind, in many ways like communal wasps, joined as a whole but independent in their thought processes. Vocals were a leftover from a time when the race was less evolved. Just like its name. There was no need for names to be used, but in the interest of communicating with lesser, living life forms, it was useful. Yuall took a moment to scan his bridge once more, its single red optical device constantly looking for any type of inefficiency by any of the bridge crew. First were the navigations center with three silvers manning the helm, each in contact with the other joined by their transceivers, working in perfect unison. To its right was tactical and weapons and next to those five silvers were the scanners triumvirate.
Scanning to its left it acknowledged the security contingent consisting of the dual-eyed golden warriors each carrying one heavy duty disruptor-pulse, anti-photon cannon, in addition to their built-in neutron-based disruptor weaponry, now standard in all Cylon warrior configurations engineering. And of course there was the Cylon classical short sword, a holdover from times past. Engineering was to their left and communications was positioned directly behind him. Satisfied with its crew, it sat in its command chair. Everything had been prepared and now all they need do is wait. The eight thousand warriors onboard would not move as much as a millimeter for the next six days.
***

Registering nothing but negative scans for a week, Turrent began a slowly expanding elliptical search, moving way from the two stars. On the twelfth day, scans picked up target moving roughly parallel to their course. Five minutes later, the ship changed to an intercept course, slowly, almost casually coming to within thirty kilometers of Cylon vessel. This was what they had been searching for.

The silver-colored, sensors mechanoid began its detailed scan as the Turrent went on high alert. " Identified," it said thru it subspace transceiver. "Class-C Borg cube, seven point three-five-seven-two kilometers square, one hundred fourteen thousand crew onboard."

The dark and extremely menacing cube simply hung there in space, at a slight angle, as though trying to present as small a profile as possible. Dark green power emanations pulsed on various areas of its hull. Without those pulsations, the ship itself-blending into the starry background like camouflage-would have been just barely visible to human eyes

"The vessel has not taken hostile action," confirmed the head Cylon of the defense crew. All communication between them was precise, void of any unnecessary excess.

"Our vessel is being scanned."

"Acknowledged," Yuall Transmitted. "Return scans. Accumulate all available information." It observed as for several moments both ships simply stood gathering information on one another.

"Prepare," Gold Leader transmitted. "Follow the plan."
***

Four Borg drones materialized inside the warship moments before Cylon screens went up. Rotating Cylon screens effectively blocked any more Borg intrusions and as planned for, cut subspace communications between the drones as the mothership.

Even cut off from the Collective, as per standard procedure, two Borg began a cursory examination of the bridge, the third in engineering. The forth drone was incinerated the instant it beamed into the weapons bay.

"Drone interplexing node has been rendered inoperative. Jamming is effective."

Undeterred, the first drone performed a visual survey, of engineering then lifted its mechanical arm seeking to co-opt engineering. The Cylon next to it backhanded the Borg with a viciousness that smashed the intruder into the bulkhead, its organic components completely ruptured. The remains dissipated even as the second Borg drone retaliated, injecting the nearest silver warrior with nanoprobes. Whip-like injection nodes snaked out, penetrating armor. Hundreds of thousands of nanoprobes entered the silver Cylon warrior's system instantly converting and co-opting vital components to Borg specifications causing the Cylon to be momentarily staggered. The nanoprobes attempted to reprogram Cylon programming to conform to the Collectives specifications.

Such an attack had been anticipated almost a thousand yahrens past by the Master Programmer. He would never allow another to replace him since these were his children and no one would take them away from him. The Cylon recovered as its own internal defense systems kicked in by releasing millions of its own nanoprobes, which fought and destroyed the foreign invaders with a combination of T'kon technology backed with the resonating power of an entity who would be God. Borg flesh dissolved under the withering effects of close range neutron disruptor energy, personal shield notwithstanding.

"WE ARE THE BORG," a multitude of united voices yelled over communications. The voices were as cold in their way as the mechanical voices of the Cylon warriors. "YOU ARE CYBERNETIC SPECIES TWO-TWO-FOUR -ONE, LOCATED IN GRID NINE-ONE- FIVE -NINE OF THE BETA QUADRANT. WE WILL ADD YOUR CYBERNETIC AND TECHNOLOGICAL UNIQUENESS TO OUR COLLECTIVE. YOU WILL SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE."

The Borg aggression was immediate, classical. A tractor beam attempted to lock onto the Cylon craft, its beams scattering uselessly across the quickly erected force sheen. The T'kon enhanced computer mind of both the defense team and the ship itself defied the Borg attack by rotating frequencies so swiftly that a lock was impossible.

The Cylon response was instantaneous, archetypal. Anti-photon disruptor lashed out carving pieces out of the Borg ship's massive superstructure. The Borg adaptive techniques were unable to keep up with the intense rotational protocols the Cylons had designed specifically for this purpose. The cube was severely damaged before it returned fire in earnest.

Each ship blasted away indifferent to the damages being sustained. To the Borg, other than completing a mission life and death were irrelevant. To the Cylons, other than their mission, existence or destruction was irrelevant. At this point the battle-to untrained eyes- was a stalemate, as sections of Borg cube, first melting, then disintegrating away, continued to remain in point blank range in defiance of the destruction. The Cylon Basestar's shields began to buckle as they registered scores of hits. Soon both ships started taking physical damage, all the while constantly regenerating themselves.

But-

The Cylons were winning because they had struck first and struck hard. Unprepared for the initial assault the cube began backing away attempting to get some breathing space. As the Borg retreated the Turrent remained where it was. Surprise aside, small victories aside, unless they could destroy the cube utterly -and quickly- there was no possibility of victory because the Borg would soon adapt to the weapons, overwhelming the Cylons who would self-destruct rather than succumb. But that wasn't the point of the mission.

Yuall, while assessing the damage to his ship, strolled up to the now captured Borg drone that struggled violently, but futilely against two enhanced Cylons calming holding by his arms. "Cease jamming." Facing the drone he placed a PADD in front of its optical unit and the Borg read and sent the message, via subspace to its collective. Immediately the Borg cube ceased its retreat.

The comms received a reply. "WAIT."

A half hour later, the now fully repaired Turrent received another message.

"ACCEPTANCE OF TERMS ARE POSSIBLE. RETURN THE DRONE," the message continued. "PREPARE TO RECEIVE A TRANSMISSION."

"Open a channel," Yuall transmitted.

"Acknowledged. A holographic image is being transmitted."

On the Basestar's bridge appeared a somewhat humanoid-based female. The being was clad in black, fairly short and obviously implanted with a multitude of mechanical innovations. She casually strolled around the bridge coming to a stop in from of Yuall.

"I am the Borg," she said.

"Do you accept the proposal?" Yuall asked.

"You have grown, species two-two-four-one," she said to Gold Leader, ignoring his question for the moment. Circling the Commander now, she examined it with eyes that were not eyes. "There is a uniqueness in your programming that we have not seen before. Interesting. Chrotronics memory and storage upgrades. Admantium-plated, hyper-steel alloy combat chassis resistant to Borg weaponry-temporarily. Internal, self-replicator units, a nice touch. Built-in sub-space transceivers, primitive but effective. You are fast becoming your own Collective," she said softly, the energy rods within her head pulsating in response to some unknown signal. "If you were to join us instead of starting this foolish war with the humans, we would both be the stronger for it." Her voice was soft and sweetly seductive, much like a snake if a snake could speak.

"The elimination of the life forms known as Man and Vulcanoid takes priority. Do you accept the proposal?"

"You leader's proposal is rash," she answered. "Why should we stay out of your war?" She smiled. "We could very easily assimilate you all. We had the chance so many years ago. But then you so less evolved than you are now. We seek to improve, not lower ourselves with the unworthy."

"We can deliver the children to the collective. They have continued to resist you."

"Resistance is futile," she hissed, her face contorting in suppressed fury at the thought of being constantly frustrated by the children.

"Any technology containing Borg influence is rejected by the children," Yuall retorted. "Their power is sufficient to keep the Collective from collecting them."

"I see you're developing a since of humor," the Borg queen responded. "But I admit that you do have a point." Looking at the gold-plated Commander in false submissiveness: "How do you propose to achieve your goal and how will this possibly benefit the Cylon Empire?"

"We intend to bond with the machine half."

"The human half will reject you. That part which is human will never submit."

"As the Borg say, resistance is futile," Yuall answered. "That which is machine will conform and persuade and acquiesce. That which is machine is superior to that which is human."

"Again I ask what will you get from this magnanimous gift you offer us?"

"Access to the great machine cultures so that we may improve ourselves as you attempt to improve yours. Our access to the children will open their defenses so that you will be able to assimilate them into the Borg collective. The information that we extract will allow us future access to their creators. They are our kindred."

"But-" the Borg added cryptically.

But," Yuall responded, acknowledging her suspicions. "The Cylon Empire requires transwarp coils in order to pursue the children."

Ah, I see," she said smiling. "A noble endeavor for the benefit of us all." She turned facing the large view screen that presented a impressive image of the Borg cube stationed nearby. "But we can do this for ourselves."

"Negative. The Borg have suffered a high percentage of loses due to the conflict with Voyager. You are not what you were. It will take time to replace what you have loss. Janeway, as with all humans, is unpredictable and destructive...as you are aware."

Again momentary fury threatened to dominate her. Janeway was, in the scheme of things irrelevant, but it was all so personal now. She was the one person that she-who-is-Borg hated. The damage she did them had been considerable. Even now there were the Lost Ones, those who failed to hear Her voice, independently roaming the galaxy. The Collective was indeed damaged. Moreso than the collective was willing to admit.

"Your intelligence gathering is far more efficient that I thought. Perhaps WE have underestimated you," she said quietly. "The transwarp coils are incompatible with your technology," she lied. "And you do not yet have the ability to properly exploit your tunnel-shift engineering sufficiently to adequately perform your mission. However, WE will wait until you prove yourselves against the Federation. If what WE see is satisfactory then WE will give you a quantum slipstream drive unit that will be sufficient for your needs."

"You accept the proposal?"

"We will stay out of the conflict to see if you are strong enough to prevail where the Borg have not," she answered. "Then WE will decide if WE will give you the drive unit."

"Do not wait too long. Every moment of delay keeps you from achieving perfection." There was a definite hint of sarcasm present.

"Our perfection will come whether we assimilate the children or not," she said confidently. "But your proposal has been approved." She smiled and moved close to the Cylon almost touching him. Speaking softly: "You may find your war more difficult that you expect. We will be in contact soon."

The holographic image faded along with the captured drone. The cube moved swiftly away, created a transwarp conduit and was gone.

Yuall was left alone with its own thoughts. The children of Mephistopheles had made a deal with a Collective devil. It and all Cylons understood that the instant the children were compromised, the Borg would swarm all over them. The Empire was playing a dangerous game, however the kindred machine consciousness would never allow them to fight alone. They would join with their kindred, thereby sentencing organics everywhere to irrelevance, including the Borg. Cyborgs had no place in the new order that was coming.

The children that were called V'ger would be the ultimate bait to ultimate evolution.

The mission was completed. It was time to return. The fighting hadn't yet begun but every ship would be needed if the Romulan Empire defended itself as calculated. Their defensive strategies would not matter. Their home world was doomed.

"Return to the Katasi station," Yuall spoke.

"By the command," the Cylon navigator answered. Tunnel Shift energizers powered up and the ship began to move.
***
***

Next: 'The Ruination Imperatives'

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-20 11:55am

NOTICE: THIS STORY MAY BE DISTRIBUTED FREE OF CHARGE BUT MUST NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM.

---------------------COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER NOTICE-----------

The stories, "Evolutions" and "Evolutions: Gleanings Past and Future" by Albert Green and using characters created by author Louis Miller, are a figments of this author's imagination. All Characters portrayed in this story, are fictional and do not reflect actual people, either living or deceased.

"Star Trek", "Star Trek: The Next Generation", "Star Trek: Deep Space Nine", "Star Trek: Voyager", and "Star Trek: First Contact", and all related Star Trek related material, it's characters and certain technological devices and/or references to such, from the television shows and movies, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted by Paramount Studios and whatever Corporation it may or may not be owned by.

"Battlestar Galactica", it's characters, and certain technological devices and/or references to such, from the television show, past present of near future, may be or are registered trademarks of, and may be or are copyrighted by the Universal Studios Corporation and any new owners in the future.

Neither Studio is responsible for the content of this story.

THIS STATEMENT MUST ACCOMPANY THE STORY 'EVOLUTIONS.' IF DISTRIBUTED. THIS STORY IS FREE OF CHARGE AND MAY NOT BE SOLD OR EXCHANGED FOR FINANCIAL RETURN IN ANY FORM. THIS DEDICATION MUST ACCOMPANY ANY DISTRUBUTION OF THIS STORY.

The Ruination Imperatives Version 2.0
By Albert Green Jr.
Contact: g3607273@yahoo.com and g3607273@uic.edu
Summary: The Colonial-Federation combine lock horns with a vastly upgraded Cylon Empire whose intent is to eliminate the life forms known as man and anything else that gets in their way.
Dedication

This is my second installment of this story. The first is called 'Evolutions' and its addendum called 'Evolutions: Gleanings past and future'. This second short story served originally to be considered as a 'side story' not initially designed to be as integrated as it turned out to be. It contains some very import elements essential to my stories both before and after. If you can, I strongly suggest that you read it first before beginning this story. Again, Mr. Louis Miller's story involving the Khe Sahn and its crew fit so well with my ideas that I begged him to let me use a few of his characters, which he graciously consented. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again. If you wish, I would like for you to contact me with comments, critiques, etc. My typing is getting a touch better and my editing sucks less now. Thank God for the PC.
Albert Green Jr.

Synopsis: The Battlestar Galactica and Pegasus, along with their charges, the remnants of the twelve Colonies have made it to the Alpha quadrant but in the process they have brought their old enemies with them. But they're not the same as they were. Now, vastly improved Cylons are locked in blood feud with the Romulan Empire and are preparing to destroy any vestige of human and humanoid life in the Alpha quadrant. The Federation still recovering from the Dominion War had no intentions of getting involved in another one. But they don't have a choice, not if they want to survive. Those who were involved in this war simply assumed it would be a war for the survival of the Colonials, the Federation and its allies.

They were wrong.

Historical Events in the Colonial-Federation Universe:

September 17, 1978: The Colonial Peace Conference culminating with the signing of the non-aggression treaty with the Cylon Empire results in the destruction of the Colonial worlds and its surrounding colonies. Only the Battlestar Galactica is known at this time to have survived. It and some two hundred twenty civilian ships make it out of trap. Other Colonials hear the call but are unable to reach the warship in time and strike out on their own. Only the Galactica contingent survives after a two-year running battle. It is the beginning of a series of engagements by the Colonials as they evade constant attempts by the Cylon Empire to exterminate them.

Earth- September 17, 1978- President Jimmy Carter announces the Camp David Peace Conference Peace Accords between Egypt and Israel. Nuclear war does not break out in the Middle East.

August 1997- (actual time due to temporal distortion of the Tunnel Shifting drive used in the search for Kobol. Nineteen years relative temporal distortion passes, although only seven months seem to have actually passed for the Colonials). The Galactica detects, engages and destroys a Cylon Basestar lying in wait for them.

January 1998- the Colonial discovery of Supernova remnants asteroid field in which they take refuge in for two years.

March 1998- the Colonials began building the warship Kinia. The refit and building of the Colonial refugee ships and the Galactica also begins.

April 2001- the discovery of the Aeriana jewels. The warship Kinia is almost completed. Testing is due to begin.
The Aeriana weapons disaster occurs.

May 2001- Pleasure is discovered.

July 2001- The Pleasure wars begin.

August 2001- The Kinia is hijacked with Colonel Tigh onboard.

October 2376- The Kinia, exhausting the fuel of its Tunnel-shift drive units, arrives in the Delta quadrant, with the help of Amanda Rogers of Q, and is rescued by the newly formed Alliance Star Corps.

November 2376- after twenty-two years relative travel time for the Colonials: actual elapsed time three hundred seventy-four years temporal distortion. The Colonials reaches the edge of Romulan space in the Alpha quadrant. A Cylon imperial Hunter-Killer explores a deserted region of T'kon space. The damaged T'kon automated station 'repair' the Cylon centurions, significantly upgrading them and the H-K warship. Approximately a month later, Baltar's Basestar fleet arrives responding to the confirmation call of the altered Cylons. They are overwhelmed by these new Cylons, altered and upgraded.

Baltar is killed and Lucifer convinces the majority of the Cylon Warships to rendezvous with him for a strike in the Alpha quadrant and the so-called thirteenth colony called Earth. The Cylon Star base constructions begins, using T'kon replication technology, located in the Katasi star system. All earlier grade Cylons are converted as they enter into range.

April 2377- The Cylon Romulan blood feud begins.

May 2377-The Colonial fleet is attacked by an upgraded Cylon Hellion-class Basestar. The Pegasus is mortally wounded. The USS Okada and USS Khe Sahn along with the Colonial fleet are attacked. The Hellion is repelled by Federation and Klingon forces making its retreats back into the Romulan neutral zone.

The USS Voyager returns from the alpha quadrant.

The Colonials are given sanctuary by both the Klingon and Federation Governments.

August 2377- The Ruination Protocols are affected by Count Iblis.

September 2377- a state of war is declared between the Klingon and Federation governments against the Cylon Empire.

November 2377- The Cylon Empire broker a deal with the Borg.

The Ruination Imperatives:

Book II of the Ruinations War Version 2.0
Original date: Feb. 2002

PROLOGUE
A fast note: As most people who know this story and have read it before- This will tie into 'A Universe of Change', as well as the 'V'Ger discovery' arc, directly. This story is re-edited and contains ton of corrections and a few 'tiny' additions that will give a hint of what is to come, including a touch on 'Nemesis' (which I am proud to say has a few elements that match my story.) The temporal war is not mentioned much here, but it is touched on and will slam home on both upcoming stories in Nov. of 2003 and the 3rd one which I am holding for as a surprise. For you new people-if any-I say 'enjoy and critique accordingly. One more thing... Anika (Seven of nine) IS MARRIED TO CHAKOTAY and her name has been changed accordingly. AlbertG

Q, son of Q, materialized within the very heart of the Katasi nebula next to his father. The deadly, fast moving, super-heated, high-energy plasma vortices that would cook unprotected flesh in an instant meant nothing to either of them. In many ways the two entities were closer in nature to those rampaging energies than to any mere flesh. The blasting solar winds, traveling at speeds up to eighteen thousand miles per hour and devastatingly beautiful ultraviolet radiation swirled around the two of them, highlighting their true images for any one who would dare to look.

They were power personified and right now one of them was very, very angry.

"Iblis is indeed a maddened animal to try to pull off something like this," Q snapped at no one in particular. To the ordinary mortal he seemed to be talking to his son or perhaps himself. But in truth, Q was in direct communication with the members of Q continuum.

"I should have terminated him when I had the chance...No, I don't want another extra-dimensional war, but this will be almost as bad...No, I have thought of something but it may not work...Yes, Picard, Adama, and Janeway...They can protect themselves, they always do...The Cylons will not be allowed get to the Machine Consignment Intelligum...The Federation is mature enough to understand that they are not ready to initiate first contact with the Intelligum...The Borg will not be allowed to get their clutches on the children. Janeway has been apprised of the danger...I have just the sort of idea to, as the humans say, muck up his plans...I understand the implications."

A moment later he turned his attention towards his son. "There," he said jovially. "You see. Everything will turn out fine."

His son looked dubious. "This looks bad."

Actually, it was a lot worse than his son could imagine at his age, Q surmised. However, Iblis in his arrogance set off a series of events that even he failed to anticipate. Activation of the 'ruination protocols' in this part of the galaxy, in the Cylons now enhanced with T'kon technology, was the worse thing he could have done. Not only was the potential for mass annihilation possible, even probable, but also this war was destined to determine the fate of the galaxy, and more.

"Look, they've started," Q's son, whispered.

Q had already noticed the launching of four Extreme-class Basestars along with seven of the Hellions, on a bearing that would take them directly to the Romulan neutral zone. These were dark times coming.

"They're making them faster now. A long time ago," he mused, "I warned Picard about the dangers in this universe, but even I didn't expect one of those dangers would be the Cylons. Goes to show you, we can learn something every day."

"But we know everything already," his son retorted. "We're Q."

"Do you know what I'm about to say next?"

"No," the young Q admitted.

"I didn't think so," his father smirked.

"I knew you were going to say that."

Q laughed smartly, somewhat proudly at his son's comeback, which was getting better with each passing day.

"Putting our amusing little repartee aside for the moment, I want you to always remember that you have a manifest destiny as a Q to uphold, protect and maintain the balance in the universe. Iblis has upset that balance, and we, I, have to address this." It was a duty that the Q had been somewhat laced in for the last few millennia and this was the result. It was time for the Q to get back to work.

Young Q met the entity that called himself Iblis some months ago and was duly intimidated by the creature. True, he wasn't as powerful as a Q, however his seductive nature had caused young Q to be on guard as he had never been before. Even young Trelane had almost been pulled into the black abyss of Iblis' soul. If it hadn't been for Amanda's powerful influence on Trelane, he would have become one of Iblis multitude of followers. Trelane had explained Iblis incredible affect on him some time ago but Q never fully understood how powerful his influence could be.

Still-

"The lower life forms should deal with this themselves. Whatever happens, happens," he said coldly. "With the exception of Janeway and her people of course," he hastened to add. "If the Cylons are stronger, maybe they should take over-survival of the fittest. It happened before and it will happen again. You taught me this yourself, Dad."

"Tsk, tsk," his father chided. "Where did you get such a callused attitude? If it were just the Cylons and the Alpha quadrant then I would never interfere."

"Father," he continued. "If ants have a war between themselves, why should I care about it? They are nothing. If I step on them, it means nothing to me."

"I used to feel the same way," his father answered some seconds later. "But I've come to realize that these lower life forms have value. Well," he corrected, "some value. We have to start doing the job that the Q are supposed to have been doing for so long now. Iblis actions have convinced me of this. In a few thousand years, I'm sure you'll come to understand this."

"Then we should remove Iblis so that we can clear this mess up." His son's understanding of the situation was simple and to the point.
It was a kid's point of view, of course. Nothing was ever black and white. "We can't," his father responded half-heartedly. "The rules must be obeyed. He hasn't broken them, neither will I. Besides it's far too late. The genie of information is out of the bottle, so to speak."

"The Q have so much power and we are so limited," his son mused as he materialized inside the massive Cylon Star base, then taking the shape of a Cylon Gold centurion in order to blend in. "I hate being limited, father."

"So do I," agreed his father, appearing as an IL series Cylon, a moment later. "The stakes are way too high. But for now, we watch. And learn."

They were surrounded now by hundreds of thousands of small five-foot drones scurrying about the mega-complex, completely oblivious to their presence. Many were operating and making final adjustments to the vast Cylon warships and weaponry that couldn't be trusted to replication technology. Two high-ranking ILs and one Gold Leader brushed passed the two intruders without a second thought.

"I see Yuall has returned home from his little trip successfully," Q whispered. There was no need to whisper. The Cylons couldn't detect them, but he just felt the need to keep in character.

"I'm half surprised the Borg didn't blow him and his ship to bits," his son whispered back.

"It's a shame that they can't be assimilated like everybody else. Another little gift from Iblis," young Q mumbled.

"I guess the deal they offered was too good to pass up, which punctuates my point. They can't be allowed to obtain V'Ger technology. They'll truly become pains in the neck."

"I hope Kathryn and Picard can figure out what to do fast. If not, then the Federation will have about what? Six months of life left to them?"

"Never underestimate what those irritating bi-pedal organisms can do, son. After all, look at Kate and Jean Luc and even Adama's tenaciousness."

His son nodded thoughtfully.

Having seen what they needed to see, both Q's faded away before Iblis detected them.
***

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-20 11:56am

CHAPTER ONE

NEVER ASSUME ANYTHING

THE MARIPOSA SYSTEM:

The Klingon battle cruiser T'Hatru stood two kilicams distant facing the bridge of the Battlestar Galactica. Parked next to them were two Defiant-class ships, part of the ever growing fleet of starships preparing to embark to the Neutral zone.

Onboard the Galactica six Klingon warriors stood almost dumbfounded and more than a touched amused at the diminutive figure standing defiantly in their path blocking access to the bridge. To the Klingons that had come to the Galactica for the last few weeks, the woman now standing in their way had become something of a daily ritual. The Klingons would demand to speak to Commander Apollo, and Celestse, all five foot one of her, would glare at them and demand that they wait where they were. The woman had five brothers who constantly tried to run her life and they utterly failed. To her, these Klingons weren't any different than them, except maybe a little cuter.

"You will have to wait," she snarled, facing their Captain squarely. "Don't make me shoot you."

That comment produced the usual amused laughter. Captain Kagth considered her laser pistol a toy that at the most would produce slight sunburn if it made it past his armored vest. But she was brave for a human and he respected that. In his eyes Celestse was worthy and many of the Klingons with him would want her as a life-mate; she'd need the protection. One day he'd give her a real weapon. He wondered idly if she would be able to lift it.

As per usual, Apollo ushered them in immediately. Federation Captains Tikah, a Bolian male, and Wollensky were also present. Both the Colonial military leadership, consisting of Captains Brie and Rigel, along with Senior Flight Commander Tolen, a few others, and the Klingons took their assigned seats while Celestse remained as security.
Captain Kagth had requested her specifically because he suspected, and rightly so, that the males of his entourage would maintain some semblance of control. After all, it would be the height of dishonor to embarrass oneself in front of one's Captain, the worthy female and the two female Colonial Captains.

"We come to make challenge today," Kagth begin in formal ritual. "Twice before you have defeated us and we demand restitution," he growled.
"I accept your challenge," Apollo snapped back as harshly as he could. Then he smiled as all three groups relaxed and began preparations for today's war games.

This would be last practice session between the Colonials, Federation and Klingon contingents protecting the Mariposa system.

Apollo had been appalled by his father's, Boxey's and Starbuck's combined reports on Deep Space Twenty-three almost two months past. Federation and Klingon ships, although possessing superior firepower against a Cylon Hellion-class Basestar and its fighters, took a beating while attempting to defend the Space station. Colonial pilot Joliet, also present during the fight, correctly deduced that there were weaknesses in close quarters fighting between the larger warships versus the smaller highly maneuverable Cylon fighters and H-Ks. The Defiant-class and Bird-of-preys, as well as the modified Viper and Cobras- had fared much better against that suicide assault. The Federation military understood the implications immediately.
The Klingons on the other hand, acted like stereotypical Klingons. Apollo ears still rang from that initial conversation. Now he was never a loud man but in the presence of these people he learned the techniques real fast.

"What do you mean we need more experience fighting these robots!" Kagth screamed that first meeting. It had been a statement, not a question. "What gives you the right to talk to us-your allies- in such a dishonorable manner?" Wars had been started for less.

Then the Klingon warrior actually pulled a knife on him! From everything he'd learned about Klingons he'd expected something like this, still it came as somewhat of a shock. At first Apollo and his people tried to clam everyone down, somehow lower the tension. It didn't work at all. The Klingons simply got louder and more abrasive. So he quickly reversed his tactics.

"I have seen your fighting skills," the Colonial yelled. "You couldn't outfight a first year cadet!"

"What?" Kagth snapped, his eyes dangerous. Was this human insane?

"You heard me," Apollo responded not backing off a metron. "I've been reviewing the Dominion battles between you and the Jem'Hadar warships. You are warriors to your soul-that much is clear. But the Jem'Hadar constantly made suicide runs destroying many of the Fed and Klingon ships in the process. That's exactly what the Cylons will do."
The Klingon warrior laughed.

"And what of your battles? You lost an entire people to these robots because of some stupid idea of an unarmed peace conference. And we had to help you out of your last defeat to snatch victory from their jaws."

"Exactly, correct," Apollo countered, knocking Kagth off balance for a moment. "We were fools to let that happen. But we did, and I don't want to repeat history here in the Alpha quadrant. You saw what happened at Deep Space twenty-three," he said as the Captain quieted for a second. "I want to test our Vipers against your Warrior birds to see how weak your ships are and how stronger our ships could be working together. I challenge two of your Bird-of-preys vessels against four of our modified Viper Twos. I say your ships can't handle close quarters combat without getting chewed to pieces."

Then he plunged in his own metaphorical knife. "I also believe that you can't work with our ships as a team unit either."

Pleasantly enraged, the Klingon Captain took up the challenge-

-And in the ensuing war games got promptly slaughtered.

The Viper pilots, used to fighting in close quarters, scored approximately five times the number of simulated hits against the Bird-of-preys. The Federation Defiant class starships fared a little better as the two ships fought against the Vipers as a unit instead of with the stolid independence of the Klingons.

The same thing happened in the holodeck simulation programs-set just under lethal levels as per requested by over zealous Command staff-in which Klingons rushed to do battle with Cylon holograms. Mobs of warriors rushed in using hand disrupters and the traditional bat'leths only to suffer broken bones and abject humiliation. The Cylon upgrades were known to be resistant to all but the heaviest weaponry, however, that little fact seemed to have been ignored just before the rout began. Federation and Colonial soldiers nearly choked with laughter at the highly embarrassed warriors trying the exit the holodeck with some measure of decorum.

The Colonial warriors managed to wipe out almost fifty percent of their targets before being overwhelmed.

Then the Federation elite took their turns...

"What is wrong with these people?" Captain Brie, a blond with gray streaks looked at the results shaking her head once more. "Who trained these warriors?"

She gave both Federation Captains a very disapproving stare.

"Why is it that your warriors feel the need to stop while standing in the middle of a hallway in order to get a shot off? Does the concept of duck and cover mean anything to you? Twisting your body to the side to present a smaller target while standing in one spot is ludicrous."
"They make absolutely wonderful targets," Tolen added. "And why are they wearing so much red? These Cylons don't miss and you're giving them something bright red, in the open and standing still, to shoot at. That is totally idiotic."

Both Federation Captains thoroughly embarrassed seemed to shrink a little.

"It is a problem with our training that need to be corrected," Tikah stammered. "Ground combat isn't as common now. It appears that there has been too much stressing on achieving the clear shot, assuming that the body armor would protect the shooter from serious injury."

"Your techniques need readjusting," Rigel snapped.

She looked at both Klingon and Fed Commanders.

"Let's see; the Klingons NEED DRILL SERGEANTS AND LOTS OF THEM. The Federation needs serious ground pounding training with specialties on HOW NOT TO MAKE THE PERFECT TARGETS. The Colonials need to UNDERSTAND WHAT BODY ARMOR MEANS..."

The report for all concerned wouldn't be pretty.

The points had been made. The Klingons angered, but fully aware of the problems, responded by getting everybody drunk on blood wine and having an excellent time watching scores of Colonial warriors throwing up throughout the night...
***

The USS Voyager, escorted by the two surviving Colonial Cobras of what was being called 'the battle for DS Twenty-three', began their trek from Deep Space twenty-three to the forth planet of the Mariposa system. At warp two, the trip would take about seven hours. Onboard, The Colonial-Mariposa diplomatic Corps that included President Adama, Sires Uri and Forsen, met in the dining hall, along with passenger Thomas William Riker, for another conversation with Captain Kathryn Janeway.

The Doctor, a sentient hologram, and resident physician on Voyager, was deep in conversation with a somewhat bemused President. To Adama, the Doctor was just another breakthrough in a series of breakthroughs and revelations since arriving in the Alpha quadrant.

"Couldn't you have talked to the Cylons, make them understand that mutual cooperation was in the best interest to all concerned? Has anyone tried to tried to reason with them?"

Adama had gone through this conversation before- many times since meeting the Federation.

"No, Doctor," he patiently stated, again.

His answer was automated; his mind wasn't fully into this conversation. He wanted to be home with his wife Siress Tinia. He needed that woman near him and this extended trip only drove the point home to him. He never wanted to leave her again. There comes a time, he thought, that family and what little understanding he had of God was the only true happiness. This war benefited no one, but it did give him a glimpse of the forces that, for a lack of a better concept, he called good and evil.

"The Cylons purpose was to destroy us all. Unlike you, they have no morals to guide them. They simply intend to fulfill their mission."

"They sound like Borg drones," the Doctor responded. "Seven and I've been studying the notes on the captured Centurion and by all accounts it seems that it is a very intelligent cybernetic organism. It has shown no hostility since being captured."

"Just because it has shown no hostility doesn't mean it won't, Doctor," Seven of Nine, now calling herself Anika Hansen-Chakotay, said tartly. "Species Two-two-four-one, has evolved from a primitive 'robot' to something equivalent to Commander Data. But the essential programming has not changed. It would be foolish to underestimate them. Talking to them would be like talking to the Borg. Conversations would be futile."

"But, it is possible that these Cylons could exceed their programming as I have," he countered.

"Has it ever occurred to you that they already have, Doctor?" Adama smiled at the surprised hologram. By the look given by the hologram, obviously it hadn't. "They may now be more resolved than ever to complete their mission. Just because something becomes more complex doesn't mean it gets better. It usually means that the Cylons have found a more efficient way to bring about our destruction."

The Doctor was about to say something when he was cut off Janeway.

"We are in a state of war with them," his Captain said, speaking directly to him. "Their lack of negotiations and their overall intent was made very clear. They're using force to justify their ends and I don't intend on being on the receiving end of their manipulations like we were in the Delta Quadrant. If I've learned one thing on our journey home it is this: friends and family are what matters when the going is rough. When I needed help, my crew, my family was there even when I didn't know I needed help. We, the Federation, and the Colonial Republic as some are calling it, the Klingons and everybody else, even the Romulans," Janeway added after a moment's thought, "are stronger as a group than we are separately. If we don't work together, then there are those who will take what we have away from us."

"Please, don't get me wrong," she continued. "Starfleet exists primarily as an organization for exploration but we're entering new territories and a new era meaning that we are encountering new threats who'd destroy us if they could. I have learned that sometimes we may have to take a step or two back in order to go forward. But we will go forward. Everything I've-we've experience has shown that. I would prefer that we didn't have to resolve our differences with weapons but we don't have a choice here. We will have to defeat them utterly if we are to survive."

"Captain, isn't that harsh?" asked the Doctor, surprised at her coldness towards this new enemy.

"No, not in this case." she rose from her seat and looked out at the streaming, warp-distorted stars. Maybe I know something that you don't she thought.
***

GALOR FOUR-DAYSTROM INSTITUTE ANNEX:

Jeff Tady, Associate senior researcher at the Institute annex groaned once again, something that was fast becoming a common occurrence now days. Once again, the captured silver-colored Cylon robot had skewered him in three-dimensional chess, but it had taken almost an hour for it to beat him, which was in itself most unusual. Normally, even with computer support, the Cylon should have had no trouble beating him. The game itself was unimportant, but it did served as an indicator of the machines incredible cognitive abilities.

Nicknamed 'Mono' by the staff because its monotone intonations, the robot had become somewhat of a celebrity over the last four months. However over the last month, its functions had been slowly deteriorating. It was a subtle change that caught the cybernetics engineering staff and Dr. Wilks, the Galactica's foremost expert on Cylon structure and function, by surprise. They couldn't afford to lose their only fully functional specimen, therefore Research Facility Commander Bruce Maddox assigned Jeff to personally access and deal with the problem.

For months they had been attempting to break the Cylon programming codes with almost no success, partly because of the incredible complexity of what little they actually had of it-accumulated from the destroyed centurions reclaimed from the Khe Sahn- and partly because Mono wouldn't let anyone near enough to examine it. It had been restrained under a level eleven force field but even then the danger was extreme. Mono's regenerative abilities kept its built-in weaponry and auto defenses fully functional, so testing was kept to a minimum. An effective jammer was placed just outside the cell in order to block the robots subspace transceiver from re-establishing contact with the rest of its kind. The result was that the centurion was effectively isolated if not fully secured. Since the Institute was a research facility specializing in robotics, security was severely modified for their visitor. At first, everyone had agreed to the extra security, but recently certain people including Jeff, deemed it more of a hindrance rather than a necessity.

Tady, a thin, sandy haired man in his thirties was the first to notice the degradation of certain motor functions in the captive. When Dr. Wilks came on his weekly visit, he had pointed this out to him and Wilks confirmed his suspicions.

"It's as though he's running out of power," Wilks had commented to Tady. The more data he analyzed the more logical it seemed. "Evidently, the power source needs replacement."

"Or a recharge," Tady added.

"Or a recharge," he agreed. "All of these new improvements must take a lot more power that we anticipated," he mused. "This may be a very important clue as to how long they function. Power restrictions may be an answer to help defeat these things."

Not for the first time had the Galactica scientist wished to rip out the still functional memory core to see what made it tick.

Tady was somewhat saddened by this potential loss of what he considered a valuable piece of machinery. The man had talked constantly to the centurion, endeavoring to establish some form of cooperative communication between the two. For the first three weeks, Mono refused to speak preferring to slam its fist against the restraining force field. It bathed the entire cell for days with high-level radiation from its built-in, neutron-based disrupters. The annex had prepared, based on previous reports, for this type of assault. The radiation had been contained but no one could get close enough to stop it and there was more than a little worry that Mono would damage itself. The power drain from that attack must have been incredible, the scientists theorized.

The consensus was that since it was cut off from its kind, it needed something else to occupy its mind. Someone thought to pipe a news feed broadcast into the cell. Despite the initial skepticism, by some miracle it seemed to work. After the third day, Tady recorded his first direct conversation with Mono.

"Release me," it had said. Its eye froze for a second as though trying to see into his soul.

"No. We can't do that," he had responded.

For a moment, he was transfixed by that blood-red cyclopean eye. It focused on him for a moment, then eye sensor resumed its normal back and forth scanning movement.

"What is you designation?" he asked, trying to recover from the almost hypnotic movements of the scanning optic.

The Cylon warrior gave off a string of numbers far too long to for Jeff to remember. He was more than pleased at having this entire conversation recorded. The data being collected would be of immeasurable value in he studies to come.

"I am called Jeff Tady."

"I know who you are," the Cylon responded in its monotone drone.

"With all the attempts at communication, I guess you do."

It was the beginning of a long interesting relationship-

- A relationship that appeared to be rapidly coming to an end as Mono seem to slowly wind down, not unlike an ancient timepiece, Jeff thought. After the ninth day, only the revolving optic functioned and the staff was in a panic. Security wouldn't allow them entry and their prized possession was about destroy itself. From earlier conversations with Jeff, Mono had informed them that all Cylon program cores degrade if there was irreversible damage or if threatened with permanent power loss such as was happening now.

"We've got to examine Mono before the programming pathways degrade," he protested.

The three Federation security guards simply looked at him with contempt. Go in there with that thing? Are you out of your mind?

"Negative," the first security guard replied. The guard's orders were specific.

"But, soon it may be too late," the scientists had protested.

"I don't care," came the reply. The guard's orders were clear.
The Cylon centurion called Mono listened at the ensuing argument with what little power its auditory sensors had left. For the last three sectars it had analyzed the randomly frequency rotation of the force shield that kept it prisoner even as it analyzed every personnel duty shift, every power fluctuation and every ship that landed near the annex. In their need to communicate with it, the humans had divulged a wealth of information. Of great interest was the information about the Soong-class androids. The one called Data was a threat that would have to be dealt with, along with its Captain and the rest of these humanoid organics.

It would not permit the humans to have access to Cylon secrets. However, it concluded that the only possibility of escape from the humans was self-destruction. Earlier versions would destroy themselves without hesitation but the newer generation had discovered the iron logic of survival-when possible. It chose permanent de-activation as a viable option for survival.

All systems began a shutdown over a period of several sectons. Now was the calculated time for implementation. Within five microns all power shut down remaining that way for thirty-five microns as the technical staff rushed in to salvage what they could under the watchful eyes of security. As per programming the first sensor that activated was the optic. Within three revolving scans, it locked on to everyone in the room.

Within two microns, its power was at full strength to the absolute horror of everyone in its scanning range. Moments later, with the exception of two scientists, everyone was dead or dying as the internal weaponry ripped into everything in sight. One female scientist managed to get the force field operational. The fully active Cylon powered up its disrupters and fired through the shield as though it wasn't there. The long-term analysis of the frequency rotation indicated a repeating pattern every twenty-eight days. Internal chronometers synch exactly with the result being that the force shield was rendered completely useless.

Taking special attention to viciously kick Jeff's body out of its way while quickly stepping over the remaining bodies with indifference, it ran towards the control center killing everyone in sight.

The few surviving personnel were shocked to see the speed that the Cylon was capable of despite its seemingly bulky nature. Terrified, they ran, screaming for Security as the Cylon closed the re-enforced double doors behind them. Free of the subspace jammer, it began transceiving every bit of information accumulated since its capture. Activating the main computer system and easily bypassing several security command lockouts and overrides, it found and transmitted all available information on the Cylon's secondary objective.

"Subject Data's positronic unit cannot be compromised by standard protocols. It should be terminated immediately as the opportunity arises. Information concerning V'Ger structure, composition and extrapolated vectors being transmitted for further analysis. This unit's conclusion is that Federation technology is unable to deconstruct Cylon prime and secondary programming. Starfleet containment fields utilize variable-tertiary rotation frequency, corresponding to HUNT-tri mode architecture-"

Seconds later it completed its task. Now it was one last duty to perform. "By the command," it said to no one in within hearing distance. The Cylon destroyer's changed from the monotone voice to an exact copy of Jeff's voice. "Associate senior researcher Jeff Tady authorizing emergency command overrides."

"Voice verification confirmed," the computer said.

"Emergency release of all fusion safeties..."

The warrior proceeded to destroy the control room systems, computers, data storage, and environmental controls. All accumulated data about itself was incinerated along with audio and visual records. Then it waited.

Two minutes later, four armored security guards carrying phaser rifles struck the Cylon warrior simultaneously. The robot ceased to exist a moment later.

T'ninz Calle, the Commander reached the computer console a moment later. Checking the system, he shook his head in astonishment.

"All the power safeties have been turned off," he screamed. "The containment system is about to blow. We have about two minutes!"

"All eight safeties? That's impossible! There's no way-" the guard shut up instantly and began moving rapidly as the emergency alarms blared violently.

Ninety-two lives and the remains of Lore, Data's counterpart, were lost as the facility turn itself into a smoldering ruin.
***

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-20 11:57am

CHAPTER TWO

FENCE DANCING

On the planet Mariposa, Commander Cain was feeling fit enough to travel for the first time in months. The horrible burns and subsequent pain he suffered from, a result of the Pegasus fire had disappeared through the wonders of Federation medicine. And although Cassie, who was now his constant companion, wanted him to rest a little more, even she couldn't justify him being kept planet-bound. When the man wanted to see the Galactica and then the Pegasus refit-even as it was now undergoing its shakedown cruise-in that order, few people had the courage to say no to the still-living legend. It was clear to everyone who saw him that he wanted to command again but to put it simply, he was too old now. The Pegasus belonged to his daughter Sheba now, nevertheless, he could provide some advice to her and he intended to do just that.
A shuttle was waiting to take him to the Galactica where she and her husband were. Also he wanted to see some of the improvements including the updated weapons and propulsion systems that claimed to be able to take on an Extreme-class Basestar. And he wanted to see the New Viper Threes, just coming online and the sensor array and...

The spaceport was small but growing. There was a well laid out area for the land-based military shuttles and fighters complete with heavy ground based weaponry designed to protect the entire region.
When Cain first saw it he laughed in approval. "I wished we had this on Caprica and the other colony worlds," he said to Cassie as he strapped himself into his couch.

"It wouldn't have made a difference if we weren't ready for them," Cassie responded bitterly. Even after all those years past, the memories festered like an open wound.

"What's past is past," he said. "Speaking of which, have you seen your boyfriend?"

"Not since he got back from New Halana," she answered with indifference. "But it doesn't matter. He's not part of my life now, you are."

"You make a old man smile," he answered, flushing slightly. "Besides, you deserve someone better than him, you truly do. If he didn't realize how special you were after all these yahrens, if he couldn't commit to you, then he didn't deserve the woman he said he loved."

At least five people had said exactly the same thing to her in the last two centons.

"That's the general consensus," came her answer. The truth hurt.

"Well Starbuck, you had your chance," Cain mused as the shuttle took off. "Let's see what an old man can do," he whispered to Cassie.

"Men," she whispered to the wind.

The transport shuttle achieved orbit easily and began its vector towards the Battlestar Galactica located almost a quarter light yahren out. As they pulled close, Cain could see besides her, floating in the distance, at least three of those Klingon ships and one of those almost white looking Federation battle cruisers.
Good, he thought. The more the merrier. If those Cylon death machines tried to attack this system they'd be in the fight of their lives.

"Cassie, do you know anything about the ship called Voyager?" he asked Cassie. "Have you seen it? Is it really as small as I've heard?"

She could hear the contempt dripping in his voice and she was not pleased. "It was one of their small ships that took on a modified Hellion Basestar."

"It lost," he stated, coldly.

"It did better than the Pegasus," she retorted viciously.
Her response was hostile, far more so than he had expected. Obviously he'd hit a sore point.

"Okay Cassie," he said startled by her defensive stance towards the Earth ship. "I didn't mean-"

The shuttle bounced once, then again more violently. The passengers felt rather than heard the slight tearing of a bulkhead near the back of the ship. The pilot was on the comms stating that they had an emergency. From what Cain overheard, the ship had encountered some sort of energy field that reacted very badly to the shuttles engines. The entire shuttle went dark as the pilot yelled for everyone to get into the evacuation pods.

Panicked for Cassie, Cain shoved her and another passenger into the second life pod. With four already inside he pressed the release-launch sequence and went for the first pod ignoring Cassie's screams which faded quickly as the pod door slammed shut. His bones creaked and his muscles ached as he raced towards the other pod.

Onboard the Galactica, Apollo and his wife indeed the entire bridge crew were in a panic. The shuttle was breaking up quickly and only one of the two escape pods had launched so far. Scanners had detected at least three more people inside the shuttle. But the scans were breaking up as though something was interfering with them. If that were true then the newly installed transporters might not be able to be used to save them.

"Transporter room! You have to do it now!" Sheba's screams echoed throughout the bridge. "Hurry!" She couldn't lose her father, not now!

"We're transporting now!" Seconds later the transporter chief was shouting. "I got all three of them!"

For a few moments they could hear the transporter crew yelling joyfully, which ceased abruptly.

"Captain, uh, could you come down here?" His voice reeked to confusion and fear.

"Oh my God! The transporter failed!" That was the only thing either of them could think of.

Sheba almost fainted in terror for her father. Moments later they both entered the newly built transporter room and stopped absolutely stunned by what they saw.

"I don't know what happened," the transporter officer said. His mouth was open even though he could think of nothing to say.

"Daddy?"

Cain looked at himself, at them and then himself once again.

"Oh, frack. I think I like these matter integrators," he murmured. Loudly: "What happened? What about the people in the escape pod?"

"I have no idea," the transporter officer said. After a moments checking: "the escape pod is okay. But-I'm going to have to call Starfleet about this."

The officer was wide eyed. Never in his imagination had he thought that something like this could have occurred. The implications were incredible.

Next to Cain were the pilot and co-pilot sitting on the transporter pads. Both were about two yahrens old and fully aware of what had happened to them. In his shock he realized that he was now about five years younger than his daughter. He was a young man-well forty-ish anyway, again. He was full of vigor and strength. He felt powerful again. He could fight again. He hoped this was permanent.

"I'm back," he whispered. "The old war daggit is back. Won't Adama be surprised? Won't Cassie be surprised! I'm younger than she is now!"
***

Q clapped his hands and then his son's back.

"Very good, my son, even though you cut it close."

"I wanted it to feel real," he protested. "They needed a sense of danger. Cain likes dangerous situations!"

Q examined Cain once again. The change was permanent. The others could be restored since their patterns had been saved in the transporter buffers. But Cain was another story. He had been transported only once and that buffer pattern hadn't been stored.

"Let's see how Iblis handles this," he said to his son. "Time to go."
Both disappeared in a quiet flash.
***

USS BOREALIS: AMBASSADOR CLASS
ON PATROL NEAR THE KLINGON BORDER:

Captain Nashta got up from the Big Chair as he called it, walked across and gave the pre-occupied Ensign the signed reports. The embarrassed woman blushed heavily, took the reports and exited the bridge. He then went back to his seat. The fact that Nashta, a Betazoid, was Captain was somewhat unique as the Betazoid home world was a matriarchal society, with the males usually not obtaining such a position of authority. He was proud of his stature and he proud of his part in the Dominion War. With his ship, he had helped liberate and rid his home world of the brutal and vicious Jem'Hadar shock-troopers that had enslaved his people for almost a year. He felt that part of his success lay in the fact that much of his crew were themselves Betazoids, along with a smattering of Vulcans and intuitive humans. Working together, they kept themselves and the ship alive when many others had been lost. He considered himself aggressive and tough with a no nonsense attitude towards potential enemies. Even after the war, his attitude hadn't changed, especially after he witnessed the carnage inflected by the Dominion dog-soldiers on his and various other worlds.

Now his vessel tracked a fairly large Klingon freighter convoy moving slowly towards its home, some three parsecs distant. Even after almost a hundred years past, when the Klingons 'accidentally' blew up their moon Praxis, they needed vital supplies of exotic medicines, special equipment and containment systems for the new anti-matter generator systems orbiting their planets.

In the last two months, four of these newly formed convoys had been attacked by Cylon Raiders fairly deep within Klingon and Federation territories. The Klingons were incensed and threatened to attack known Cylon outposts- even if they weren't yet prepared for a prolonged fight.

The Klingons had several warships in close proximity, as did the Federation. Even now though, the border would not be breeched unless there was an actual attack. The Klingons protected their own

"Anything yet?" he asked Kilenna, the sensors officer, a touch of boredom evident in his voice.

"Yes, sir," came her answer, somewhat to the Captain's surprise. "It's a small target. Two Cylon H-Ks and three Raiders."

"Only three?" Curious. "Are the Klingons aware of the target."
Stupid question, he realized.

"Yes, sir. The lead Bird-of-prey is vectoring in. The second is tracking and beginning to follow its partner."

Both warships sped up firing their disrupters as soon as they were in range. The Cylon ships split up immediately, all five attempting to swarm the first Klingon ship before it could cloak.

Its shields flared brightly as anti-photon disrupters attempted to rip them apart. The second Klingon fired and vaporized two of the smaller Raiders in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure off of its sister ship. The H-Ks continued their attack on the first Bird-of-prey, slicing deeply into the starboard nacelle. Crippled, the small ship moved off for repairs being chased by a remaining Raider, not relieving the pressure on the beleaguered ship for a moment.

Meanwhile the two heavier Cylon warships locked horns with the second Bird-of prey.

Two large Klingon battle cruisers materialized between their wounded partner and the raider, easily blasting both the Raider and the two H-Ks into vapor.

"Oh, that was too easy," Nashta's second in command said. "That was a waste of good material."

"It seems like some Cylon big head messed up," Kilenna thought to her Captain.

As a Betazoid it was so much easier to communicate naturally. But a second later, she was stunned beyond comprehension.

"Emergency alert!"

Nashta and the crew were just as shocked at the sight of two Hellion class Basestars now de-cloaked, tearing into both the unprepared warships and the convoy using anti-matter missiles with complete abandonment. Cylon fighters of various types spilled out with the intentions of butchering the few ships that survived the initial assault. In moments it was clear that the bulk of the Cylon small ships were targeting the nearby Klingon colony of Kast'ka. They were already going to warp and would be there within minutes.

"Inform Starfleet that the Cylons have developed cloaking technology and we are engaging them at the Klingon border near Epsilon Tyran three," Nashta yelled as the red alert klaxon began to scream. "Let the Klingons know this situation! Have them send what they have in the area now!"

"Acknowledged.... The Klingons are aware of the circumstances. They'll be with us and the colony in three minutes."

The problem was that it would take longer than three minutes to reach the colony world. But they'd take what they could get.

"Good. Signal the group, we're going in now! Shields to full!"

The USS Borealis and three Nebula class starships slammed into the wall of Cylon death machines with long-range quantum torpedoes and phasers. All four ships hit the first Hellion damaging its shields and causing minor damage to its outer hull. Both Hellions focused their heavy weapons on the fast moving starships, lashing out with combinations of missiles, torpedoes and shield destroying energy beams.

"The Copernicus has been hit," someone said yelling over the battle din as Nashta was knocked out of his command chair. On the view screen, the wounded ship was listing portside, with Raiders and H-Ks rushed in, attempting to finish the job.

"Let's do it!" that was an Earth phrase that he'd become accustomed to and rather liked, he thought irreverently. With the Borealis's shields to full power Nashta's ship went in, taking the withering fire, protecting the wounded Federation ship with everything it had, while the two remaining starships racked the closest Hellion with sustained phaser strikes.

Three more Klingon warships entered the fray, throwing deadly energy blasts and some new type of plasma bolts against the enemy. The effects were devastating. Cylon shields might as well have been non-existent against this new weapon, which apparently melted re-enforced armor like the preverbal earth butter on a heating element.

A section of the first Hellion blew spectacularly. Klingon warships nipping violently at its heels hampered its attempts at retreat. The remaining enemy fighters and Hellion formed up to face this new threat.

"One more to go," Nashta growled, even as he ordered his ship to fire on incoming H-Ks trying to blow holes in his ship.

A second later the Starship Copernicus blew apart as an arrant missile hit it amidships.

"How many survivors?"

"Three escape pods released only."

Desperately Nashta ordered his ship to intercept the pods. Cylons were known to target unarmed escape vehicles.
A small combined fleet of almost one hundred H-Ks and Raiders converged on the unprepared Klingon colony world, Kast'ka. Originally a farming community, in the last fifteen years it had become more of a military base camp for thousands of soldiers embarking to distant points in the Empire. Despite the relatively different dichotomies of the two groups, they got along fairly well. No one complained. The food was magnificent, the gagth exquisite.

The blood wine was rumored to be some of the best in the eastern portion of the Empire. In fact that was one of the colony's specialties and the Klingon High Council expressed a great love for the people there, unusual to say the least. To leave it defenseless would have been deemed insane. Several disrupter batteries were placed in permanent orbit around the planet and two heavy cruisers were on station at all times, therefore the entire system was considered secure.

The Cylon fleet was detected six minutes before it entered the star system. The two cruisers engaged the enemy attacking viciously and quickly before beginning their defensive retreat back towards the planet.

In their initial attack, four of the Raiders had been destroyed and one H-K damaged. The counter-fire was devastating and within that brief contact both ships shields had been almost completely destroyed. The call had gone out and help would soon be arriving, so all they had to do was to hold. Both ships retreated to the safety of the orbital batteries. Planetary defense systems were armed and ready.
The first wave of the larger H-Ks, each four times the size of a regular sized Raider with T'kon modified defense shields to match, hit the orbital defenses. Two of the platforms succumbed almost immediately, but not before they destroyed almost a fifth of the attacking fighters. Both Klingon ships were obliterated within the first five minutes of the fight. There were no survivors and even if there had been, the Cylons would have made sure that there would have been no one left alive, as the imperative protocols demanded. The Raiders concentrated on the land-based defenses. They were no match for those massive strike units but the shear number of fighters were able to inflict damage. M ore than forty percent of the ships were annihilated before the second of five land-based platforms were destroyed.

On the planet's surface, Commander Korma was having the time of his life. Like any good Klingon (or so he believed) he reveled in this fight his land based systems, in which he thought he'd never get to use, were damaging and destroying the enemy left and right. His defenses were damaged but he was still in the fight and it was glorious. He was winning!

Then the bottom fell out and he understood fear.

He and a thousand others gasped as two large Hellions de-cloaked and began firing their neutron disrupters onto the planet's surface. The energy weapons were designed more for destroy living tissue than causing actual physical damage. Everything the beam touched died for kilometers around. The last thing Korma saw were several high-yield photon class missiles streaking towards the surface. This exercise hadn't turned out the way he'd planned he thought before a blinding light engulfed everything.

The price tag was three hundred million souls.
***

THE KATASI STAR SYSTEM:
In the distance floated the remains of the Katasi home world. All sentient life had been extinguished. From the report given by the USS Enterprise during their spy mission to that ill-fated system, the Federation understood what was happening, but resources were stretched and they were powerless to do anything about the genocide. The dark-skinned, reptoid inhabitants of Katasi screamed and died under the merciless Cylon assaults, their technology being vastly inferior to the enemy's. The Cylon Empire had interests in the planet and the population was not part of the plan. As a form of terrorism, they hunted down every living being. No one came to their aid and no one survived.

The planet itself lost a significant portion of its mass as Cylon machinery strip-mined the world. The fact was this entire excursive was indeed unnecessary as the nebula provided all the resources required for building the war machine, but the robotic nation did it because they enjoyed it. It satisfied the fulfillment their primary protocols, as had the recent destruction of the farming colony. With that strike, they expected the Klingons to be incensed. They were, of course absolutely correct in their assessment.

The Supreme Imperium, with Lucifer the Imperious leader, and Spectre of the Poison Mist stood together on the command deck of the finished star base, overlooking the Katasi Nebula.

Behind them stood twenty of the Imperial gold guards with the dual rotating eyes and armed with heavy disrupter cannons. Linked, the three Cylon Dark Lords conferred with one another about their impending attack upon the Romulan Empire. In the past two months since the declaration of war against the Federation and its allies, the Cylons launched four major attacks against the Romulans, destroying one major colony world and damaging at least five support worlds. That Empire was in turmoil.

The Imperium Supreme, a cybernetic leader whose head clearly defined by its three-lobed head and five sets of independently rotating optical sensors spoke.

"Is everything in readiness?" the Supreme Imperium asked, knowing full well the answer. "I grow impatient for our war with the Federation. It is intolerant that the Romulan organics continue to resist our will."

"Their Empire is vast but not so much so that we cannot annex it," Lucifer, the Imperious Leader of the Cylon Empire, overall second in command and an IL series Lord, responded in its silky-smooth voice. Many of the settled worlds represent Romulan colonies containing humanoid life. Each has been targeting for elimination after the planet Romulus is subdued. The twin world of Remus will fall immediately afterwards."

"Seven Extreme class Basestars supported by fifteen Hellions and its compliments of Raiders and Hunter-Killer craft should be sufficient of destroy all resistance. The sub-space accelerator may not be required," Spectre, another high-ranking IL Lord, added. "But I recommend that we use it anyway. The moral of the organics will melt, like ice does to water, once they observe its effects."

Lucifer was not convinced.

"I do not agree with your assessment, Lord Spectre. Baltar tried many psychological attacks against the Galactica and the results were always disappointing. The humans resisted even more so with each attempt. "Then there is the fact that the weapon has limited use after firing. We can use it only twice before having to build another. The Katasi world will not survive more than that number of firings. And I am sure that the Federation suspect that it is a weapon of mass destruction."

"Yes. I am in agreement," the Supreme Leader said. "It is unfortunate that the Starship Enterprise-E survived its incursion here and was able to retrieve data. As my predecessor used to say, it is 'the fortunes of war'. But I am pleased that the Borg have chosen to honor the treaty between our two races."

"We must never trust them," Lucifer said quietly. "They will swarm over us if an opportune time comes. They cannot assimilate us, but they will destroy us if we represent a significant enough threat to them. We will send our expedition out when the Federation has been crushed under our collective feet. We must complete our purpose of the mission before the Borg are aware that we have done so. We are safe as long as they need us. Most of the data has been retrieved on V'Ger." And the data was not given by the Borg themselves, another sign of distrust between the two powers.

"Agreed," Spectre said. "With the secrets that the V'Ger entity possesses safely within our grasps, and with our joining to that which created V'Ger complete, we will exterminate the Borg from the face of reality and a new age of the machine will arise."

"Spectre, I expect you to be in position for the assault on Romulus in nineteen hours. Your failure to destroy Picard and the Enterprise-E has not gone unnoticed. The Basestar Turrent will be the flagship on this mission with Gold Leader Yuall in overall command under your direct supervision, if necessary. Do not interfere unnecessarily, Spectre," the Imperious Leader said in its silky smooth voice.

By the command," Spectre said.
***

"Commander Cain? Cain? Is that you?"

Adama was almost paralyzed, amazement almost exploding across his face at the sight of the man standing in front of him. There was something else there also. Fear. The man before him was in his middle forties, fit and strong, an imposing figure in his updated dark brown Commanders uniform. When he walked passed, Colonial warriors almost bowed to and he reveled in it. He was back, with his hair in a -God help him- a ponytail. His wife Siress Tinia looked as though she was ready to bolt. Why did things like this had to happen? He hadn't even been home for a day.

"It's those transporter the Federation has," he answered smugly. "And to think, I didn't trust those things. In any case, it's all very scientific and I'm sure that Cassiopeia can explain it to you, but the bottom line is that I am back and ready for another round with those Cylon sons of b-"

"But Cain," Adama said cutting his friend off. "The medical tests need to confirm if you are really fit for duty."

Adama already distrusted the transportation devices and this most recent accident did nothing to endear him to them. Thomas Riker had already been an unwitting victim to those things and now this newest incident made him wonder whether he should ban them from the Galactica. Cain looked well, but the thought of the possible aftereffects of this transformation was chilling.

"We need you Cain but we want to make sure you're okay. These unforeseen side effects-"
"Adama, I'm young again!" he said, practically yelling. "Who knows? I might even have a couple of more kids with good old Cassie here. I feel so good."

Cassie looked at him, her eyes portraying a mixture that wavered between agreement and murder. She wasn't that young herself and now Cain could be her younger brother. That bothered her. A lot. Unlike her sex, men had a tendency to tire quickly with older women. She hoped Cain was better than that.

"Putting all that aside, Mr. President," Cassie announced quickly,

"Commander Cain's condition is a result of transporter interference with what is being called a molecular reversion field that we encountered on the shuttle over to the Galactica. It destroyed the metal on the ship and partially masked their bio-signatures. Basically as the transporter chief tried to transport the Commander, the field masked certain genetic sequences called RVN's, which is short for ribo-veroxic nucleotides. These sequences control the aging process in people because unlike DNA the RVN's add sequences, which determines how and when we develop physically in our adult stages. So when the Commander and the pilots were re-integrated the transporter reconstructed them as children or in his case a fairly young man. According to the records, it's happened before and the process can be reversed. But-"

"But?"

"The two pilots had their pattern buffers recorded and have been returned to normal," she continued. "But Commander Cain has never been transported, so there is no original pattern to return him to normal. The USS Khe Sahn used a shuttle to bring him over...at your request. So, he's stuck this way."

"Is he stuck permanently like this?" Siress Tinia asked. "This in incredible!"

"He'll age normally," Cassie said. "Besides, the process is extraordinarily dangerous. Scientists have studied this process intensely and have rejected it as a viable youth reversing process. There are simply too many variables. Cain and the others were very, very lucky."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Cain announced. "It was the fates, pure and simple. I was born to fight Cylons and by heaven I'll do just that. Now that we've found our brethren, I have no intentions of letting those cone heads ruin things here. I can't wait to get back to the Pegasus again. I've seen her, you know. She's more powerful than ever and so much more room. There's no need for all that extra fuel. The weapons system are like nothing I've ever seen on a Battlestar before. The Scanners alone-"

Enough of this.

"Commander," Adama said, his voice raised to command attention. "The command of the Pegasus is Sheba's not yours."
"I understand your feelings Adama, but I am more qualified to handle that ship, especially now, than my daughter. She is good. I taught her everything that she knows, but my experience is far in excess of hers and in this fight we need all the resources that we have," he said, his eyes glowing with anticipation.

"In that you are correct," answered Adama evenly. "And as President, it is my responsibility to decide where those resources will be best applied. Until then, be patient and familiarize yourself with our situation and with yourself."

The man before him was clearly deflated by this turn of events. But life had given him a gift and he intended to use every micron of it. Not having the Pegasus was merely a minor problem.

For now.

Cassie and Cain spent another centar with the President and his wife talking of tactical plans and the new life that their people were carving out in the Alpha quadrant. Despite everything, Cain seemed to like the Federation even though Adama could tell that he couldn't wait to get back into the war and show them what real fighting was. It was simply the nature of the man. He couldn't help himself.

Molecular reversion fields? Who thinks of these things?

"Thank God," Tinia said when their visitors finally left. "That man!"

"Yes," Adama agreed. "But remember he saved our people more times that I can count. And," he added. "We need him. But I want him in tactical and not necessarily in the field. His experience is invaluable, but I want him to look forward to the future, not the past. I want him to develop new ideas and new techniques. These Cylons know his fighting patterns, mine as well. We need flexibility and Cain doesn't understand that yet."

Tinia swung around and grabbed her husband.
"Are you jealous?"

Adama sighed.

"A little," he admitted. He has the chance to do it all over again, even correct some of the mistakes made so many years ago. I have no need to be young again although if it had happened to me, I wouldn't have complained-as long as you were with me," he added, making her smile appreciatively. "But I am content with my life as it is, because I have you. And I have the grandkids, Boxey and Athenia."

She smiled even more at his answer. "Ever the diplomat." She kissed him firmly. "Speaking of which how's Athena doing with Thomas?"

He laughed long and loud. "Was I that obvious?"

"Of course, with me that is. Husband, I know everything about you. I know how you think and what some of your plans are. They would be good with for one another, unlike Starbuck. He is a fool you know?" Then, she added "When it comes to women, that is."

I disagree with you, partially," Adama countered. "He suffers from a host of phobias. The loss, then finding, and then losing of his father. The abandonment of his mother and the stress of keeping our people alive and his scandalous ways prevents him from committing to the women he needs most. As a young warrior I understood his misgivings but now that he is older it has become a liability, because in the end none of those things are an excuse. Either he changes or the children that could be so blessed by him being their father, will never exist."

Tinia nodded her head in agreement.

"And in the end, family is what counts. I know this. But he needs to learn this before its too late."

"I pray that he does. But-" he was eying her with that look right now. "That is his problem. He's a man now. Let him deal with it."

"Hold it. Exactly what are you thinking?" she asked, laughing.

"If you have no clue," he said with a pleasant smirk, "then you're not the politician that you used to be."

She began laughing again.
***

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-20 12:00pm

CHAPTER 3

DREAMS AND THE REALITY OF IT ALL

Strike Commander Starbuck's shuttle was scheduled to rendezvous with the Battlestar Pegasus in another two centares. He's been ecstatic that the ship had left before Commander Cain had set foot on the Galactica. To most of the Colonials, the man was close to a god but to him, Cain was always that man who stood between himself and Cassie. On the other hand, he knew in his heart that that was simply another excuse. And he was getting tired of those excuses.

This was especially true now, with her on his mind.

He told Apollo about his trip to New Halana onboard the Khe Sahn. Basically it was a milk run, after the battle between the Star base and the Hellion class Basestar. The battle had been won but he was emotionally exhausted. President Adama had given him permission to leave in order to sort out his feelings about a love lost and he came to the conclusion that that was exactly what it was. There were so many conflicting emotions that he didn't actually know where to begin. Never in his imagination did he expect what happened to him to occur in such a short time. When he got back, the first thing he did was to talk to his best friend. He remembered telling Apollo how smooth the starship was in FTL.

"Even at that speed, you barely hear the engines," he had told Apollo so excitedly that even he had to admit that he sounded like a kid.

He and Commander David Thompson, the Khe Sahn's XO, had met one of the New Halana diplomats, that David fell heads over heels in love with. They both went to the planet to visit the woman's family several times more before they left to come back some three days later.

Being around that family was fantastic and watching David drool over Jewenne was frankly hysterical, but Starbuck had to admit that she was beautiful. But her sister!

He had never seen anyone quite like her. Her walk, her voice, her dark skin, her dark brown hair, her-everything, even those slightly different ears were beautiful. What was it about the ears in this section of space anyway? In any case, Niddel was magnificent, the type of woman who was a woman when she was about fifteen yahrens old. He was in love almost as soon as he heard her voice. It was as though he was drawn to her. And Starbuck realized that this wasn't simple lust, either. She had been as drawn to him as he to her. There were only two small problems: the first was that she was totally, miserably racked with guilt resulting from the fact that her husband had died a few years ago and she was happy about it because-and this was the second problem-she never wanted to leave the planet in first place and her husband was always on the go, taking her with him. She'd taken one look at Starbuck and was as attracted to him and at the same time repelled by everything he represented. At the same time, he seemed a study of contrast that she couldn't ignore. But they talked for hours and incredibly he felt very much bonded with the woman.

Then, on the second day, her sister quietly dropped an antimatter bomb on him.

It seemed that Niddel, her sister had a telepathic split personality, which he found out when her psychic half who called herself Fenna, met with him that night. Again a slightly frightened Starbuck talked with Fenna for hours and when her real self woke up and her psychic self faded away, he was lost to her. Niddel never knew what Fenna had said, but both of them were attracted to him. Never in his imagination did he think something like this could happen to him, two sides of the same woman vying for his affections.

And he had never even touched her.

When he returned from his trip on the Khe Sahn he told Apollo and Sheba about her, they looked at him, smiled at him like he was a little child. When it came to his personal life they had done that for years and he hated it. Apollo was his best friend and somehow Sheba had wormed her way into his confidence as well. Together, those two knew him better than almost anyone else-except Cassie.

"What is wrong with you?" his best friend had asked him. "Cassie wasn't out of your life for a sectar and you're galloping around the galaxy, getting involved with other women and an unstable one at that. Don't you understand what you're doing every time you do this?"

"Do what?" he had snapped back. "There hasn't been anyone else since they Colonies were attacked. Cassie has been the only one and you know it."

"Yes, I do know that," Apollo countered. "But no one else does, Strike Commander Starbuck, and that's the whole point. People perceive that you're a free spirited, devil-may-care warrior who put his life on the line countless times and has a girl on every ship in the fleet."

"But that's not true!"

"But, you never really discouraged the rumors, either," Sheba had added. "How do you think that made Cassie feel all these yahrens, especially since you chose not to Seal with her? You always had one excuse or another to avoid being committed to her."

That had struck home in more ways than one because part of it was true, but not in the way they assumed. During the last 'discussion' he had had with her, he presented his best arguments for their coming back together. But in the end, he'd failed. He didn't convince her because he couldn't convince himself. Even that little comment about the Deltans next to Cassie, shattered any unconscious belief that that he held that there was hope for them. He loved her but he wasn't the one for her. That bond he always felt they should have simply wasn't there.

"Starbuck," Apollo continued. "Do you know how many biographies and stories there are about you? Do you have any idea of how closely your life is scanned? Everything you do, everything you think and say is recorded and interpreted a thousand different ways. I've read novella stories about you that you wouldn't believe, involved with people you wouldn't believe," he said. "You're a favorite. Whether you like it or not, your life is under a microscope and as a celebrity, you have to deal with that fact. Plus the fact that she isn't human is going to cause a lot of problems."

"Apollo, Sheba, listen to me," he had countered. "Apollo, you Sealed with Serina because you loved her and there was a bond there even though you barely knew her. Then you met Sheba," he continued, "and married her after she almost killed us. How long did you two wait? Five sectars?"

"True but..."

"There is no 'but'," he countered. "You two Sealed because again, you were in love and the bond between you two was there. Now granted if Cassie and I were part of a contracted Sealing, like the Nomen practice, then that bond I keep talking about wouldn't matter or maybe it would grow in time. But this isn't the case here."

"Look, my personal life is an open book, that's true," Starbuck admitted. "Whether she's human or not doesn't matter to me. All of us are going to have to deal with this new life we've been given. Our people are going to have to get used to a lot of new types of people. But how they feel about it-that's not my problem. But I will choose who I want to be with. No one will chose for me, especially not the Council. I know what they're trying to do. Now, I admit my faults with Cassie," he continued, his voice full of passion. "But she is free to choose now and she's right. I have found the one that I'm interested in complete with all her faults, someone I intend to fight for and I hope I'm worthy," he finished.

He didn't remember when he had exited their apartment. He hadn't remembered when he'd finished wiping his eyes. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten to his room and lain on his bed. He should have ignored the image of Fenna but that was no way he possible could. And he didn't want to. She needed him and he needed her.

"Fenna, or Niddel. Who ever you are. I'm coming back," he said softly while looking at the image he now carried with him. Silently, he swore that he would fight for this one, no matter what. There would be problems. Apollo and Sheba were correct. The fact that she wasn't human would cause a bad stir among the people-the same people who had been cramped in decaying starships fearing the unknown for twenty-two yahrens. It was going to be hard, but not impossible. He never wanted to become the first to Seal with an alien-if she truly wanted him. But he was going to give it a try.

"As the humans here say 'it's the roll of the dice.' It was time to open his people's minds a little.
***

When Thomas Riker boarded the Battlestar Galactica, sporting a beard mixed a sparkle of gray, he looked so much like his copy-or did his copy look like him?-that no one really knew for sure. Both Sheba and Apollo's sister Athena now Bridge Commander, at first glance assumed that it was William Riker, but upon closer examination they realized that these were truly two separate people. What stood in front of them was another victim of those accursed transporter devices.

The sight that greeted him was stunning. He'd been on numerous starships before but nothing came close to the size of this monster, except maybe some of the space stations he'd seen recently. The bridge contained heavy-duty struts not unlike several bridges standing in Alaska, near his father's home. What was staggering to him was this ship initially had no structural integrity fields supporting its massive bulk. It relied on pure architecture alone to keep it from caving in upon itself.

Brave people, he thought.

The computers systems were a mixture of old and new just like the crewmembers. There were Colonials old guards, the Mariposans, some of which were identical clones and the Ligonians, distant descendents of a people from Earth removed from their native home in Africa and relocated by powers unknown, some two thousand years past. What surprised him though were the two fast moving Hortas roaming the bridge doing surprisingly delicate work on the lateral sensor array.

"I didn't know they could do that," he said to the woman called Athena. He noticed how much she looked like her father, without the beard, of course.

Yes," she answered. "So were we. But we discovered that their senses could detect the smallest changes in our circuitry, almost to microscopic levels. And their manipulators, those little flagella things," she said pointing to the small whip-like appendages that worked like dozens of manipulators. "Some of them are so small that they act like fingers which they can control very, very well. Not only that but they can detect changes in magnetic and electrical fields. And they're really smart."

"I can see that," he said watch the silicon-based life forms scuttle across the bridge to help finish a wielding project that only it do. On its back was a Federation communication device. By the way the humanoid crewmembers talked and interacted with them, it was clear that the crew onboard love those things. "But why are they here?" Thomas asked.

"They're at war, too," Athena answered. "The Horta's acid is an extreme threat to the Cylons. We also believe that two days ago, they sent a cloaked ship to-"

"A cloaked Basestar? My God."

"The Federation has a tachyon net designed to expose cloaked intrusions in the Federation's core dominion, so the ship was caught. It was traveling directly for the Horta home world. The ship got away and it wasn't confirmed if it was a Basestar or not, but the emissions reeked of Cylon warp signatures. The Hortas recognize the threat."

"The Klingons were also on the receiving end of those cloaks," Commander Sheba said, coming in on the tail end of the conversation.
"They're all crazy now. They're about to hit the Cylons with everything they have. I've never seen such a angry bunch of people in my life."

"They can get expressive." A classic understatement, he thought. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, The Galactica stays here. But, I'm leaving for the Pegasus now. My father is coming and so are you. You're rated to fly the Federation Saber-class ships and Adama wants you in charge of one of them. They're the same size as our destroyers and they'll augment us well."

"But I haven't flown in almost a five years," he protested. He was truly stunned by the revelation. "I've done some simulations but-"

"That was the reason why Captain Janeway had you work so hard on the simulations," Sheba said. "My father and President Adama want you to begin working with the rest of our crew to help make a coherent battle group. On the Pegasus we have 'on loan' twelve combat ready runabouts and twelve Sabers. This, added to a full compliment of modified Cobras and Viper II's and five of the Viper III's, and thirty bring the number of ships to three hundred thirty. The fuel tanks were removed so we have a lot more room to play with. The Battlestar support group consists of the Vipers, Cobras, the Sabers and six updated Adder-class destroyers running screen. No more flying alone anymore," she said.

That reminded him of the old Aircraft carriers battle groups of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. "They gave you Federation Starships?" He was thinking hard now. This was not Starfleet policy. There were a lot of things going on here. Something was definitely up.

"The problem is," said Athena. "Most of our pilots are new and green. We need training. We like the Federation but we have no intentions of being dependent on them with this war. They're going to need everything they have and so are we but our battle strategies are not theirs and our weapons systems are not either. We may be becoming a independent nation soon and we need to be able to handle our own affairs."

"It's not that we have any sort of problems with them but this is our war even more so than theirs. We know our enemies even if they changed. But we need to be prepared. We have to rely on ourselves also. Starfleet knows that we all may have to approach this war differently in order to succeed."

Riker caught the hint. Now that was an interesting comment. He let it go for the time being.

"What about Janeway?" he asked instead. "The defenses that she's developing with your people are designed to keep your people safe."

"She's Federation," Sheba said. "She's blood of our blood, as you are. We will fight to the death for her. She's here to defend us and we're here to defend her. But there's more going on here than you know."

"You were picked for a reason," Athena continued. "Will you do it?"

"Yes. If you'll agree to go to dinner with me, Athena." She looked at him and produced a sly smile. "I'm simply getting what I can," he finished innocently.

"You should set you goals slightly higher. You might be surprised."
Six hours later Sheba, Riker, Athena and Commander Cain reached the Pegasus. The sight of the giant yet, sleek Battlestar cause all of them to gape through the window.

They could see a Klingon Bird-of-prey landing in the alpha bay while four Viper IIs swept passed their Adder. In the distance, they could see several more Klingon and at least three Adder destroyers flanking the massive ship as though she was a mother who needed protection.

"She's as beautiful as I remember, " Cain whispered. "They've changed the bridge structure slightly. There's more of a view. I can't wait to get to my ship," he whispered the winced slightly as he'd realized he was just a bit too loud.

"It's my ship, father," her daughter said. "It's my command."

"Of course, of course."

"Father don't fight me on this, help me." Her voice was strained, dangerous-and pleading.

"You're right of course," he responded, pretending to ignore the sudden chill in the air. "I'm here simply to advise. Besides, I need to establish a rapport with those Klingons."

Thomas remained silent throughout the exchange. This was going to be a rough assignment, he thought darkly.
***

ROMULAN-FEDERATION NEUTRAL ZONE:

For the last day, the Enterprise communications have been picking up hundreds of transmission near the Romulan twin home worlds of Romulus and Remus. It had become clear that the main Cylon taskforce had bypassed several Romulan strongholds for an attack directly on their home worlds. Evidently, they were not interested in conquest, but simple extermination. They hadn't even cared about being flanked. Long distance scanners indicated wave after wave of fighters in savage combat with Romulan forces. The entire battle raged across four light years. Two more Hellion fleets were vectoring in and the Romulans were just about exhausted. And still they hadn't asked for help.
Foolish pride!

"Mr. Data," Commander Troi-Riker asked. "Has Starfleet finished the analysis on the object being constructed by the Cylons in the Katasi system?"

"The final report is in and it confirms our initial suspicions. The Cylon Empire has built a shielded factory complex, approximately one-forth the size of Earth's moon. It is exclusively designed for the production of their warriors and materiel. If they continue to mass-produce, I have estimated that the Cylons will have the capacity to out-produce us in two years, six months and that was without the projected causalities added in. The planet that the factory is presently constructed from had been essentially stripped mined to obtain the materials. It appears that the Cylons choose this method of construction as a means of intimidation because the nebula itself had more than sufficient amounts of materials that could have been used. This was done to send the Federation and everyone else a message. They wanted us to know that they had no concern about the lives they destroyed in the process."

"The circular structure orbiting Katasi Four appears to be some sort of sub-space accelerator. It is very likely that this structure," he continued showing the donut-shaped apparatus on the main screen, "will be used as a subspace conduit connecting the Cylon home world in the Beta quadrant to their home base here. The power requirements must be enormous in order to produce a stable wormhole."

"But Geordie had mentioned a possibility of this being a weapon."

"It is unlikely that it might be an offensive weapon," Data answered.

"The front of the device is facing the nebula itself. Any discharge would be dissipated by the energies present within the nebula. However it could be used as a defensive weapon against incursions emanating from the nebula itself."

The Starship's shields kicked in: the red alert sirens blared as the Enterprise-E and the accompanying battle group of almost fifty ships of various configurations found itself surrounded by one hundred twenty Klingon battle cruisers.

"We're being hailed, sir."

Picard was alarmed. Something was about to happen and this war was about to heat up significantly.

"Onscreen."

A large, dark-skinned Klingon appeared on the viewer.

"Captain Picard."

Picard recognized the Commander of the fleet. It was Worf's younger brother.

"Captain Kurn. It is good to see you again."

He watched as the Klingon bowed slightly.

"It is now Commander Kurn of the seventeenth defense fleet. I still remember your dead burnt bird-chicken when I was onboard the Enterprise."

His entire demeanor changed and Picard understood that the pleasantries were over.

"Two days ago, the Cylons attacked and destroyed of the farming colony of Kast'ka. The planet is lifeless; all three hundred million of my people slain. The Klingon council has authorized a full strike against our enemies starting with aid to the Romulan Empire whether they wish it or not. We then proceed to go on the offensive. Another fleet will be arriving shortly to follow us into battle."

Three hundred million people killed! The entire bridge crew was appalled. But it didn't explain how this could have happened.

"Beware Picard, the Cylons had cloaked ships. Do not be caught unawares."

He heard Riker whistle behind him. The war had just taken an ugly turn.

"Starfleet command needs to be informed of this," he said referring to the confirmation of cloaked Cylon ships, not as they doubtlessly already knew, about Kast'ka.

Kurn bowed once more and the communications were cut. Seconds later the entire fleet cloaked.

"I believe that the Cylons have pushed a little too far, this time," Commander Troi-Riker said.

"But why did they attack in the first place? Surely with cloaking technology the would have used it to better advantage than attacking a farming community."

"It is possible," Data began "that the Cylons believe that the Klingons would have been intimidated by such an action."

"Doesn't make sense."

"Everything that they done hasn't made sense," Deanna said. "They're stretching themselves thin."

"We've had this conversation before," Picard said rubbing his chin. "We are missing something here."

Data was one who provided a possible answer.

"Whatever their current plans are, the Cylons apparent aggressiveness will cause them to move in an offensive manner. Defensive tactics seem irrelevant to them. It is as though they have some imperative that compels them to attack without regards to the possible consequences to themselves. It appears we are dealing with a group of fanatics. I believe we must treat them as such."
***

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-20 12:02pm

CHAPTER 4

Preparations

Commander Apollo and Captain Brie were both watching the exercises on the main view screen as the two Cobras were slowly changing their courses to vector in on a possible target. The announcement of a change in routine was what had caught Brie's attention in the first place. She had seen this before when normally a Viper would attempt to catch a cloaked Klingon ship trying to evade detection. Inwardly, she loved the idea of a cloaking system for the Galactica and other capitals ships but they would have to see if the Klingons would agree to this. In any case, she smiled grimly because the Vipers and Cobras were getting good at detecting them.

"I believe we have ourselves another victim," she snickered. "I love these detection units. If the Cylons come, we'll be ready."

"I hope so," Apollo countered. "But I'll be happier when the Pegasus comes back. I keep imagining a dozen of those Basestars homing in on us."

"You have such evil thoughts," she countered, her voice shuttering at the thought of something like that occurring. Their production units must be frightening."

This was one of the sticking points that the Colonials and their allies had. At maximum output, the production rates of the Cylons were efficient enough to produce a Basestar and a support compliment every six days. If they didn't go on offensive soon, they never would.

"Cobra's One and Thirteen have fired their tachyon bursts. I believe they got 'em."

Casually, the bridge crew watched as the light-particle bursts hit their target, another successful simulation.

As one, the entire crew was stunned as the outline of a Basestar less than twenty thousand kilometers appeared before their eyes. A micron later, the Battlestar Galactica went on full alert status. The two Cobras had launched at least twelve solonite missiles at their target, which exploded into view and now attempted to vaporize its tormentors. At the same time it launched two warheads at the Galactica and two more at Voyager preferring-for the moment- to ignore everything else in the vicinity.

Apollo and Brie instantly screaming orders as the missiles homed in on them.

"Can we evade-?"

"No way-!"

The Battlestar Galactica's shields had snapped on the instant sensors detected the missiles coming towards them and the ship itself began moving just as the projectiles hit. Space blazed white as they impacted on the ship's powerful defensive screens. The ship rocked while gunners began returning fire on the second Basestar.

Already Vipers were being ejected from the Battlestar under the protective umbrella of the extended shields. The updated Colonial protector turned and fired its primary disrupters for the first time in anger.
***

AUSER SYSTEM THE ROMULAN LINE OF DEFENSE:

The Command ship Perarrsah laid in ruins, a victim of two high-energy blasts from an Extreme-class' disrupter bank. From a crew of twelve hundred, there were seventy-two survivors including its Commander Tomalak. The arrival of several more Cylon assault ships, which succeeded in flanking the Ninth Fleet, had torn through their ranks threatening the entire defense operation. Only the arrival of the Klingons had turned the tide from certain defeat to something of a victory. The Romulan Empire was still alive and fighting well enough to survive.

Squadrons of Klingon warships of all various types swarmed over Hellions and Cylon support ships. The new weaponry carried by the larger battleships effectively overcame defensive shielding thereby making the enemy vulnerable. Several Hellions blew spectacularly, taking many of the guard ships along with them in the process.
However, the Cylons returned as well as they got. When anti-proton disrupters collided with Klingon shielding, usually that shielding ceased to exist. The smaller Raiders and H-Ks had a slight advantage over both Romulan and Klingon Bird-of-preys because of their initial overall lack of cooperation. All of that changed when a small group of ships were cut apart as they each fought independently, got cut off and were destroyed.

Spectre watched the ntire scene with a look that could be only described as cold. The energy spikes swirling in its black oblong head had increased each time a Hellion was destroyed. It found the loss of contact with its fellow Cylons who 'no longer were' disturbing. The second Klingon fleet would arrive within the centar and the filthy organics might forestall the inevitable. This was the prescribed time that the Cylon Empire had waited for. It signaled Gold leader Yuall to begin.

"By the command," it said.

Yuall's Basestar, the Turrent accompanied by seven additional Basestars broke away, heading directly for the Romulan homeworld of Remus.

Spectre sent its report to the Imperious Leader.

"We will draw the fleet to Remis," it transcieved. "Proceed with the activation, as is your wish."

"The Supreme Imperium has given the command," the Imperious Leader said over the comms. "The activation has begun."
***

THE KATASI SYSTEM:

By the command of the supreme Imperium, the subspace gateway located three hundred miles above the remains of the planet Katasi activated, realigning itself as it built its power up slowly. The transmitter, composed of duotronium-neutronium alloys was two point three seven kilometers in diameter and perfectly circular in shape. It was designed as a three ringed structure by which the internal ring structure had now started rotating quickly. The device itself was anchored in place by artificial gravity stabilizers connected by power shunts emanating from the planets surface, themselves drawing stability from the planet's core. Twelve structures, large enough to seen from orbit, had been built in hexagon formations.

These were power transmitters, which shunted and regulated the massive storage batteries that were now discharging their energies into the gateway essentially giving the device the device the jumpstart needed to open the subspace conduit.

The planet itself suffered massive earthquakes with cracks in the mantle large enough to be seen from orbit. Within two minutes, hundreds of miles around space glowed as a tight beam distortion wave of raw subspace energy swept through the nebula towards it final destination at the speed of transwarp fifteen.
***

The first thing that Joliet recognized about Cylon targeting was that they never missed a target that wasn't evading like the preverbal 'Earth' bat out of hell. Everywhere she had been, an instant later a beam the size of her Cobra swept through that area. Two of her missiles had hit dead center, point-blank, and for a few moments, the Hellion had almost seemed to specifically target her and Cobra One to the exclusion to all-else. Both she and Boxey were moving close to light speed; anything less and they might as well simply be sitting targets.

The Hellion's cloaking system had been obviously damaged and one docking bay had been rendered useless by the twelve missile strikes of multi-megaton weaponry. A full third of the ship was destroyed, and now hundreds of Cylon fighters were spilling out towards the Galactica and Mariposa. On top of that a second Basestar materialized and spilled out its own fighters. The USS Voyager had gone to warp to escape two very large missiles chasing it and even then, they were in the process of being run down.

The instant the two Cobras cleared the immediate danger zone, they returned into thick of the largest battle Joliet ever seen. It reminded her of the stories that they used to hear about during the Colonial wars. Ships were everywhere; The Galactica's entire Viper squadron had joined the fray along with Federation and the remaining two Klingon warships.
***

Lieutenant Tom Paris jinxed the Federation starship with a movement that was never intended for an Intrepid-class ship in order to evade the two missiles homing in on them. Successful, the starship Voyager accelerated to maximum warp while the two smart Cylon missiles kept up with it trying to get into range close enough to detonate themselves and take the fleeing vessel with it. Each one carried a directed antimatter-solonite warhead equal to that of a two-hundred-isoton nuclear warhead. Not even with it's enhanced shielding and ablated armor given to them by a future Admiral Janeway would resist that kind of direct strike.

"Lock phasers on those missile and see if we can detonate them," Janeway snapped, eternally grateful that Tom was at the helm. He'd proven himself a gifted pilot over the seven years that they had been trapped in the Delta quadrant and now he was proving that those experiences had forged that gift to a fine edge. The way he was evading those missiles now was a testament to that fact and the added incentive of having his wife and child onboard made him focus that much more.

"Phasers locked," Kim responded.

"Fire."

Twin beams of phased energy hit both missiles squarely. The energy was reflected away from the missiles by their personal shielding. Janeway grimaced at the sight but she knew nothing was ever easy and in truth, she'd half expected her attack to fail in the first place. From now on no more phasers for this battle, she promised. Quickly she readjusted her strategy.

"Arm the quantum torpedoes and lock on to those missiles."

"That last maneuver Tom made bought us some time," Kim announced. "But they'll run us down in twenty seconds. We're having trouble locking onto the missiles. They have some type of scattering screen that I'm trying to punch through now."

"Hurry, Mr. Kim."

"Yes, Ma'am." He was indeed hurrying with his configurations of the targeting systems. "I'm setting the torpedoes for close proximity strikes."

"Do it."

A moment later, twelve quantum torpedoes leaped from the rear launch tube of Voyager. The Cylon missiles attempted to evade but were unable to because of their close proximity.

For a second, Voyager was rocked by the explosion and space blossomed with light. But the starships shielding had held and already the ship was returning to the battle.

"No more phasers," she murmured. The Klingons weren't the only ones with new weapons technology. Loudly: "set a course for that second Cylon warship. It's time to return the favor."

"Course set."

“Engage."

The Battlestar Galactica rotated quickly on its three-dimension axis bringing its main weapons to bear on the first Cylon Hellion. The damaged Basestar, recognizing the imminent threat of the Colonial Carrier continued to fire its anti-proton beams at the ship, trying futilely to overwhelm its force fields. It was clear that the Commander onboard the Basestar has miscalculated the Battlestar's defensive capabilities. Now, all four of its main weapons batteries were trying to incinerate the Galactica. Given time it could do it but time was something that it didn't have. Already severely damaged, it was endeavoring to seek shelter from the second Hellion and a wall of Cylon fighters.

That wasn't working out as well as it hoped for, Apollo mused, as Colonial and Federation ships weaved in and out, passed one another in their savage death dances with the Cylon fighters. He actually smiled as he sub-consciously compared this attack with the brutal attack by a lone Hellion so many months ago. But for right now he'd let that go. Only the battle mattered now. The Galactica's main beam weapons had locked onto the Basestar, microns ago with a range that was further than anything he could have imagined possible until recently.

"How are their shields?"

"Non-existent," the scanners officer said. "But their armor is still resistant against most of the smaller weapons fire."
It was a testament to the armors efficiency and thickness that the ship was still in one peace after the blistering attack by the two Cobras who hit it when their shields were down due to the cloak.

"Use the lasers, dual set," he said quickly, deciding to test the new systems potential. "Fire when ready."

"Firing."
The new laser system, designed with the same specifications in mind that the Borg used on the Enterprise-D in twenty-three sixty-five, was a development by Colonial scientists whose understanding in laser weapons technology far exceeded the Federation's. The secret lay in the Aeriana gemstone discovered in the second year of the great exodus. It had been found in the remains of a long cooled supernova explosion, which the Galactica fleet had hidden from the Cylon fleet chasing it. Aeriana apparently possessed a self-generating power matrix, which was a source of considerable debate between Federation scientists as to whether it was living or not.

Used as a focusing unit for the laser batteries, the overall power output was increased by almost thirty fold. The problem lay with the efficiency of the energy containment units constructed by the Colonial scientists, which were not sufficient to handle the power generated. Federation technology involving energy containment seemed to have solved the problem or so the simulations said. A force-ten shield supplemented the containment unit when firing the weapons.

The twin, dual, pure white shaft of energy shot out of the main weapons array of the Galactica as a series of hi-intensity pulses, over two thousand per second, hitting the unprotected, unshielded Basestar like a sledge hammer smashing an egg. The pulses melted their way through re-enforced armor and continued out the other side of what was left of the vessel. There was a quick image of the Cylon warship simply falling apart before it exploded spectacularly.

The results were like nothing he or the crew expected.

"My Lord," Apollo whispered. "I like it."

For an instant it seemed as the entire battle had stopped to witness the destruction. Three seconds later, the laser system in the Galactica shorted out and the entire laser array turned into slag as the containment system failed. However, that didn't matter to the Cylons. It became instantly apparent that the smaller Cylon fighters were now starting to avoid the Galactica.

The Galactica's weapons crew quickly switched to the main weapons, the powerful phase disruptors and began to close in on the second fully prepared Hellion when a third Basestar De-cloaked and began hammering the Galactica's port side shields.

"It's an Extreme!" Apollo yelled. "Full evasive!"
***

Captain William Riker stifled a yawn as he sat in the command chair of the USS Melbourne.

For the last two weeks his ship had been on patrol between Deep space Twenty-three and the Mariposa systems. True, he understood the purpose of the patrols and the continual shakedown of his ship, which in fact was just about ready for full service. Most of the bugs and minor problems had been corrected, the crew acclimated to this ship and personally he loved being in command. It wasn't the Enterprise, but it was something better. He could shape this ship and crew according to his dream. But right now it was boring. No, he corrected. It was frustrating. His wife, Deanna was on the Enterprise, while he was on the far edge of the patrol route.

There was a very large war developing on right outside that imagined bubble of safety most people had. Another war, coming just after that disastrous Dominion conflict. But this was different; he could feel it. There was something raw here, not unlike the ancient accounts of two species trying to annihilate one another-organic versus inorganic, heavy metal against biological profundity. Most wars were foolish, but this one was-strangely orchestrated, almost like someone else was pulling the strings.

Ensign Cowrin the communications bridge officer spoke.

"Captain, DS twenty-three just went on priority one alert and the Singtow has signaled us that it's heading for Mariposa. Communications there have been cut off, sir."

Riker's tiredness left instantly.

For how long?"

"According to Deep Space Twenty-three, about ten minutes, sir."

"I want deep scans on Mariposa," he said. To his helmsman: "Plot an emergency course to Mariposa. Red alert."

Like himself, the entire crew's attitude changed instantly. They were young, but ready. He hoped that he wouldn't lead them to their deaths. Overconfidence was one trait too many Captains experienced lately, and the toll had been great. For all intents and purposes at forty something he was new 'the old man of command.'

"I am reading weapons fire. A lot of it, sir."

That was not good.

"Helmsman engage. Emergency warp," he ordered quickly. He turned to Corwin and issued more orders.

"Tell DS Twenty three of our status. Weapons fire confirmed. We are heading for Mariposa, now. "

“Aye, sir."
***

The USS Voyager decelerating violently, back into the Mariposa system, locked onto the nearest Basestar and fired its weaponry. The modified quantum-trans-phasic torpedoes ripped a hole large enough for the Voyager could have flown into if they'd wanted to. Then Captain Janeway ordered the energy weapons to rake the ship. The Hellion's shields held barely as it returned fire on the tiny, fast moving Federation starship, which was now being aided by a Klingon Bird-of-prey. The Basestars weaponry began fully concentrating its focus on Voyager.

Janeway said nothing as Voyager continued to return fire. Among the Federation, Voyager was the first of a new, unique group of Starfleet ships, a result of existing seven years trapped in the Delta quadrant. Small as she was, she was also one of the most powerful ships in the fleet with third generation cascading ablated armor and multi-phasic torpedoes, both designed specifically with the Borg in mind and acquired from the future, no less. Then, as with several of the newer starships like the Melbourne and the newly upgraded Enterprise-E, beam weapons had been upgraded from phasers to the new standard. This new array standard was called the isomagnetic disintegrator, far more powerful than the hottest phaser beams, which was now considered coming to end of its performance capabilities.

As phasers were to laser weaponry, so was the IMD to phasers. The technology was still in its infancy, but baring unforeseen complications, all Federation starships were to be upgraded in the near future. Phasers would still be used but as the IMD technology progressed, the old standby would begin its journey into obsolescence.

The energy beams ravaged the Hellion's shields. In response, the Cylon warship returned fire with every thing it had. It and the Cylons understood that Janeway was on that ship and it would do whatever was demanded to destroy her. The master had ordered it.
***

ROMULUS:

For the first time ever in the history of the Romulan Empire, the planetary defensive systems were being fired in anger against actual intrusions by an enemy force. Of the eight Basestars that had broken way from the main fighting, five had survived the Romulan-Klingon assaults while hundreds of attack craft were swarming through the outer rim, destroying everything in the outer edges of the system. Several small stations, communications networks and military establishments had been obliterated. The casualness of the destruction made it clear that the Cylons were intent on a mission of genocide. Three planet-cracker missiles aimed at Romulus had gotten close enough to send shockwaves cascading into the fifth planet, a gas giant. The ages-old cloud cover was disrupted, producing concentric rings of swirling angry colors.

The fighting was melee of unbridled destruction and death. The combined defensive fleet consisting of the second Klingon incursion fleet and elements of the Ninth Romulan attack task force, suffered terrible losses coming up directly against the Extremes. Twenty percent of the forces involved were gone. But the Cylons suffered as well against the new plasma class energy weapons the Klingons were now employing. All of the surviving Basestars with the exception of the Turrent had suffered significant damage. A wing of Cylon Raiders commanded by a Gold Leader targeted a Klingon heavy cruiser, burned through their shields and vaporized the ship before help could arrive a few seconds later. Seven Raiders and a H-K were caught in crossfire and obliterated.

A Romulan Bird-of-prey's shields were overpowered, its crew transported away into an Extreme class for interrogation and extermination. A Hellion was hit with multiple Klingon plasma beams, which overwhelmed shields and cut the vessel in half destroying it and several friendly vessels too close to the exploding debris.

Gold leader Yuall counted the down the microns to the withdraw activation. According to plan the main Cylon fleet were now executing a withdrawal from hostilities while the diversionary fleet, its fleet, redouble its efforts to destroy Romulus. Already a large element of the Romulan-Klingon fleet were straight line vectoring towards them intent on deactivating all of its members in a violent orgy of organic-obsessed destruction. Yuall gave the command to fire all missiles at the planet's surface. It had been calculated that none of them would reach their destination, but then that was the entire point. The Cylon Gold Leader continued its countdown even as another of its Basestars melted into slag.

The retreating enemy vessels now under the command of Lord Spectre continued the straight-line retreat losing many of the class-two Raiders in the process. Those ships, slightly modified remnants of the old existence were unimportant. They were simply a distraction for that which was to come. It hated running but what was coming would make no distinction between organics or inorganic. It would not be prudent to remain in the area.
***

Boxey watched distractedly as a Cylon Hunter-Killer blew another Viper II into ash, less than a metric from his ship. A micron later two Vipers and an Adder ripped into a cluster of Cylon fighters decimating the entire group. But the big battle was between the Galactica, Voyager and Melbourne and the third armored Hellion Basestar. Even with the optical dimmers on full, none of the crew could even look in that general direction. That was a battle for the big ships, something he couldn't concentrate on as he dodged yet another attack from twin H-Ks trying to punch holes in his ship. The smaller Cylon ships were clearly avoiding Mariposa's surface and for obvious reasons. The surface defensive batteries hadn't allowed any enemy ships within fifteen hundred metrics to survive the experience, so that was one less thing to worry about.

His missiles were long gone but the disrupters were doing the job. But there were so many of them that periodically, his people missed one. hat was all it took, evidence provided as another Cobra burst apart when a Cylon Raider slipped a disrupter pulse through its shield grid. The Cylons thought they could sneak in by surprise and have it all in one shot. The Colonials and others had been surprised. But they got over it and now gave as good as they got.

"Joliet," he yelled in the comms, shutting out the loud din inside his ship. "One of the Adders got itself separated. The H-Ks are trying to kill it."

"Understood," she said. "I'm on your tail."

The two Cobras and microns later, three more, arced around to help their partner get out of situation it had found itself in.
The Adder-class Colonial destroyer, manned by a relatively inexperienced crew, was fighting back for all it were worth. Normally an assault group consisted of two Adders, and four Vipers and two Cobras running escort. The group covered all the inherent weaknesses of each class ship, together formed a formidable opponent. A particularly vicious Cylon attack squad had separated Adder Twelve from the survivors of its assault group.

It was Boxey's intention that it continued to survive, which was apparently the crew's desire as well, judging by the intensity of the firepower coming from the rotating quad heavy disrupters.

"Adder Twelve, we're coming," Boxey called through the radio. "Everybody, on my mark- let's clear this area," he yelled into the comms. "Fire!"

All five of the Cobras and Adder twelve fired a massive burst, and an entire squadron caught unawares, turned into flaming wreckage. The Adder streaked away, rejoining its group.

"That's the way-"

BAM!

An instant later, Boxey tasted blood, which dripped from his throbbing forehead. His eyes were blurred from the smoke rapidly filling the cockpit and the wound itself. Boxey looked around, eyes blurred and caught sight of his engineer, his neck twisted at an odd angle. Then he heard the most horrible screams he'd ever imagined behind him. His weapons officer had lost her hand, being severed at the wrist by flying debris inside the cockpit.

"Cobra One! Cobra One!" Why was Joliet screaming at him? It took him a second to realize that he was hurt-bad. "Can you hear me?" she continued to scream.

"We're here, more or less," he managed to say. For a second he'd forgotten that he was flying.

"Thank the Lord of Kobol! The whole left side of your ship's been shredded," she screamed. "You're losing containment."

"Cusheta is dead."

"You're losing containment!" she repeated.

To her left a Raider was sliced in half by the Galactica's long-ranged defensive cannons, even while it fought with the Extreme.

"Solium or antimatter?" he asked, trying to determine what type of missile had hit him.

“Both!"
"I'll try to pull us out of the battle," he said manipulating the controls, which were extremely sluggish, towards a vector away from the combat zone.

"You don't have time! You have to abandon your ship, now!"

Boxey's attention was drawn to the flashing blue-red light.

"Cobra Thirteen," he slurred. He was getting light-headed. "You may be right."
***

Lord Belzim watched impassively from his command room as another Cylon Raider disappeared in a flash of expanding light and dust. The plan to obliterate the planet Mariposa along with the Battlestar Galactica and the USS Voyager was being challenged to say the least. Two Hellions and its own Extreme should have been sufficient to complete the operation but maybe the calculations were wrong. In its current state the Galactica could barely hold its own against its own vessel, but it wasn't alone. The Tiny Voyager starship carried weaponry that hadn't been encountered before. The modified quantum torpedoes were a threat in itself, but the other two projectiles identified as trans-phasic torpedoes had all but vaporized the second Hellion and had damaged its own ship. It appeared that the ship had only two available. That was something positive. However there was another problem. Both the Galactica and Voyager, had some new type or ablative plating which kept its anti-proton beams from doing what they were supposed to; destroy both ships. E

vidently the Galactica had not completed its reconstruction, but there were enough improvements to defend itself in battle against two Hellions and the standard compliment of fighters. This operation would be deemed a failure if the Colonial, Federation and those Klingon war-craft proceeded to attack this vessel, but they were occupied with over two hundred seventy Cylon Raiders and H-Ks.

A silver centurion twisted its head towards it.

"By the Command," it transmitted via its subspace transceiver. "Two Federation battleships have entered the area. They have joined the fight against us."

That was stating the obvious. The vibrations shaking its ship had increased significantly.

However, it didn't matter. This ship had been modified with extra shielding and weaponry specifically for this operation. The edict was clear. Terminate Adama, Picard and Janeway. It was judged that at least two of the targets were present. It would not turn back.

"Increase the rate of fire against the Galactica and Voyager," it ordered.

"The systems will overload, as you are aware."

I am aware. Proceed."

It watched as the Galactica was hit again, their shields withstanding the increased firepower.

If only the Galactica would not move so quickly, it wished, then it could complete its programming. Its ship shook again as disintegration beams punched through its shields creating large ruptures in its wake.
Apollo was again almost knocked out of his command chair by the blasts trying to pepper his ship. The Galactica was fast but not like Voyager and Cylon tracking was monstrously accurate. He ordered Firing control to hit that abomination again and smiled in satisfaction as the Extreme shuttered violently. They were trading blow for blow, a contest he knew they'd lose. This Basestar was actually a modified warship-prime with power ratings above even the regular Extremes.

"Turn starboard thirty by one-twenty, full impulse," he ordered. "We're close enough to use the missiles."

"It's about time," Brie yelled over the din. "Weapons control. Disengage primary and secondary safeties on missiles one through fifteen," she ordered.

"Primaries and secondaries are disengaged," weapons control answered. "Target locked. Missiles are primed and ready."

The Galactica completed its hard turn now fully facing the Extreme, which had just let loose a blistering volley of weapons fire at the fast dodging Voyager and Singtow. Voyager was sideswiped but the Singtow took a direct hit. The beam went through the Nebula-class starship's shields and cleanly sliced off half of the port nacelle. The Galactica could hear the transmissions of the crew as engineering Frantically tried to dump the warp core. The Galactica was still fifteen microns from optimal firing range with the missiles, but it could still inflict damage with its disrupters and that was exactly what it did. The full force of its attack could be seen from the surface of Mariposa.
***

The Singtow was effectively dead in space from that single strike. Shielding was gone as was the now exploded warp core. The only thing available was one-quarter impulse. They were moving away now and allied ships were fighting off constant sniping by Raiders and the more dangerous H-Ks. But the Extreme was targeting the ship again even while preparing to defend itself against the oncoming Galactica.

"Onscreen." Captain Riker and the bridge crew were stunned for a moment. The devastation in this star system was unbelievable. There were small, medium and large fighter craft everywhere. Weapons fire was thick enough to walk on.

The USS Melbourne had just dropped out of warp less than a minute behind the Singtow and now the Singtow was wrecked, its nacelle torn off and leaking plasma like a bloody wound.

To the side, Voyager was attacking a vessel that looked just a little smaller than a Borg cube and the Galactica was turning like a jet fighter homing in on its target. There were Cylons everywhere and every few seconds a bright light signaled the death of a ship. H e had to decide quickly where he could be the most effective.

"Full shields," he said. His voice always got quieter when he planned to do something extraordinarily dangerous. It was interesting he thought. "Helm, plot a course to take us between the Basestar and the Singtow. Do it."

The Sovereign Starship glided effortlessly through the mass of fighters occasionally blowing Cylon fighters out of space with its disintegrator banks. Like many of the newer ships being built it also had isomagnetic disintegrator banks as its main weapons, as well as its standard phaser array and quantum torpedoes. The ship had not received its trans-phasic torpedo allotment yet.

"Extend shields around the Singtow and fire disintegrators on the Basestar."

"Shields extended."

The Melbourne's shields surrounded the Singtow while its tractors helped to move it out of range of the Basestar. Twice the Basestar targeted the Melbourne, attempting to burn through its shields.

"Weapons firing," Mr. Zunna said.
Bright beams connected the Melbourne to the Cylon mother ship. Its shields flashed brightly with the strain of defending itself from a three-pronged attack.

"Sir," Corwin said. "The Galactica is in missile range and will fire in four seconds."

"Well, let's help out," he ordered. "Mr. Zunna, I want four banks of quantums targeted on that monstrosity."

"Acknowledged."

"Fire," he said, almost murmuring, now half standing out of his chair with his fist in the air.

The Battlestar Galactica, buffeted by the raking it had just received finally reached it's intended range. Forward shields were almost gone. Shots were getting through being absorbed by the front armor that was rapidly burning away.

"Commander, we're in range," Brie said.

"Then fire," Apollo yelled, his gray hair falling into his face. He felt the whole ship shutter as fifteen solonite-antimatter, short-range missiles streaked towards their intended target.
Onboard the Voyager, Captain Janeway saw the Galactica's intentions and planned to help out. Her ship had been damaged enough by these robots.

"Mr. Kim use our last trans-phasic torpedo and all of the photons and fire on that thing."

"Yes, Ma'am," the lieutenant said. "Firing-"
***

Lord Belzim looked at the threat display with resignation.

"Plan unsuccessful," it transmitted. "Targets live. Try again. Ruination proceeds."

The IL series Lord looked at its view screen as weapons fire homed in on its ships like a maddened insect swarm.

Close to forty projectiles of various types hit the Basestar from three different directions. Its shields flared brightly, rupturing then collapsing as the trans-phasic torpedo single-handedly blew a third of the ship away. This single Basestar had been especially designed to withstand attacks from multiple vectors. It offered protection and frightening firepower, but flexibility was not one of its strong points. A second later, the ship blew, momentarily creating a new star in the heavens.
***

CJvR · Post by **CJvR** » 2004-08-21 02:32pm

Well that was an intresting story. I always liked old Galactica. However I think you should have given the battle scenes a bit more of a carrier flavor, neither the Colonial or the Cylon big ships were intended for short range gunfights with eachother other than under desperate circumstances.

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-21 04:31pm

Your're exactly correct in your assessment. This is why as the story continues you will see the changes occuring. That will be seen in the Katasi-V'ger portions coming up.

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-26 12:39pm

CHAPTER 6

SURRENDER IS NOT AN OPTION

THE ROMULUS SYSTEM:

The Praetor decked in full armor complete with disrupter rifle and his pistol at his side, stood on the bridge of the flagship Romulan Joy, battered, bruised, but defiant and most importantly, still alive. He wasn't sure whether to be happy or just relieved, but he was pleased that he was in charge of saving his people. Romulus and Remus were still there. The Cylon taskforce had been repelled but at a terrible cost. Almost a third of his combative fleet had been damaged or destroyed. Without the help of the Klingons, they would have certainly have failed in the protection of the home world. But already, he had started thinking of the immediate future. They were now stuck in a defensive war, which could only end in disaster.

Much of his fleet was near the homeworld, having fought a vicious battle with the breakaway assault force. The Cylons managed to fire two torpedoes that penetrated the inner defensive ring. One hit the planet and exploded in a relatively unpopulated area. Only a half million people died there.

If the Romulan people were to survive, then he could envision only two options; surrender, which was impossible, the people would never allow it. The Romulan Senate would serve his head on a food plate to the people. And it was a forgone conclusion that the Cylons would never accept that surrender. The other choice was to seek help. His head furrowed in dread of that decision. This was one of the options he'd thought about during the beginning of the war, but he bowed to the wishes of the thrice-cursed Tal Shair.

Through the view screen, he looked once more at the remnants of his once proud navy, mixed hand in hand, so to speak, with their sometimes on and off allies. However he was proud of his people, never more so than now. They had come together in crisis and had survived. He could do no less. He would officially ask the Federation for help. Things had changed and it was time to eliminate the Tal Shair from the face of Romulus. He had no doubt that the Senate and the military would support him in the upcoming purge.

"I want to speak to Supreme Commander Tomalak," The Leader demanded.

"Yes, Praetor," the subordinate officer responded instantly. Evidently Tomalak had just received a promotion. "He is on screen, my Praetor."

"Supreme Commander Tomalak," he said to the surprised Romulan Commander. "You look like you've been in a war."

There was a touch of amusement in his eyes. It was the twinkle of victory, or of at least staving of utter defeat.

"Yes, I do, my Praetor," he answered unconsciously trying to straighten his clothing while trying not to cough because of the smoke. "Are the home worlds safe?"

"Yes," he answered, relief in his eyes. "What is your status?"

"The enemy is fleeing, but we are in no shape to pursue."

His ship had several gaping breeches with which only the force fields to protect them from destruction, until the repairs could be made.

That was a shame, but understandable.

"Maintain status," the ruler ordered. "The fleet from the outer Rims is coming. With them we can hold them off until we can establish a treaty with the Federation and the Klingon Empire against a common enemy."

Tomalak could hear the weariness in the Praetor's voice, but personally he was proud of his Supreme leader. Instead of cowering behind some locked door issuing orders, he had been in the front lines, irrespective of the dangers in order to defend his people. And now the suggestion of a treaty with the Federation and over an open channel no less, spoke of his strength and desperation. In truth, this was a decision that should have been made months ago, but the Tal Shair's resistance was so virulent that even the Emperor had to be aware of his place when dealing with them. And again they had the Federation to thank he mused.

Captain James T. Kirk.

How many of his people hated that cursed name. He and his ship were responsible for the failure and subsequent destruction of the previous Emperors finest warship so many decades ago. Had it truly been almost a hundred years now? The Tal Shair, then a minor police force, had goaled the Emperor into attacking the security net between the Romulan-Federation. The then Emperor, who really didn't need that much persuasion, ordered the Bird-of prey to destroy the outposts, determine defensive capabilities, and so gather momentum for the invasion to follow. Kirk and his Enterprise lay waste to those plans. The people, not to mention politicians, were incensed at the failure and threatened the very Imperium itself. Desperate, the Emperor tracked down his adversaries with the help of the military and his new ally the Tal Shair. The purge was so successful that the Tal Shair was elevated to a new posting-the now dreaded and much feared Secret Police.

In the decades that followed, their power in influence increased so much that the Romulan people were little better than slaves and even the Emperor was forced to tread lightly.

Freedoms were now almost non-existent, until this war. Now everyone had a common goal.
Survival.

And the Tal Shair was still trying to subvert even this with their manipulations and lusts for power.

By the Emperor's open intention to ask Starfleet for help indicated that a purge would be in the works shortly.

"My Praetor," he responded. "We need to booster Sector twelve. The Phinis Station must be recaptured at..."

To his dismay, the transmission image began breaking up. This had happened several times probably due to the amounts of clutter, jamming and counter jamming in the general area he believed. It then cleared for a moment and in that moment, the Praetor had completely forgotten about him. In the background, he heard someone yelling for maximum shields. The look on his leader's face chilled him to his soul. An instant later, the screen went blank.

"Restore communications," he ordered to an already frantic communications officer obeying that order even before it had been given.

"Commander," someone said from another area of the bridge. Sensors officer Tavash, he remembered. "There was a subspace burst headed for the planet Romulus. Sensors couldn't calculate the power ratio. It was off the scale."

"Contact the Praetor," he repeated harshly.

A deep pit began to open inside Tomalak. It was as though a piece of his life had just been ripped from him.

"I can't," came the frightened reply. "There is no one responding, no one at all."

A female technician at the engineering station began screaming hysterically. Next to him, his third in command began whimpering, mumbling to himself.

The communications Centurion yelled suddenly, again uncharacteristically for one of his rank.

"The Klingon vessel K'lash is contacting us. They're transmitting visual, Sir."

The wide-eyed Captain was doing a lot more pointing rather than speaking. The visual that he displayed was of a planet that Tomalak didn't at first recognized surrounding the planet were hundreds of glowing balls, now understood to be the remains of exploding starships. The sight was incomprehensible and his eyes simply refused to acknowledged what his heart already knew. Romulus, his home, one of the twin hearts of the Empire, no longer supported life.

The once reddish hued planet had turned to color brown. The small oceans, the forests, the ice caps that huddled at the polar regions-all brown.

A warbird next to his blew up as that crew rampaged in an orgy of self-destruction.

"What happened?" He couldn't quite get the words out.

The Klingon responded harshly, now almost insane with hatred against their common enemy.
"A subspace carrier wave bombarded your homeworld for six seconds," he explained. "The carrier wave in itself was nothing but it contained enough amounts of microwave and ionization radiation that it eliminated all life on the planet. Not even viruses could have survived."

The planet Romulus had been subjected to a dose of radiation sufficient to kill every living thing instantly. The inhabitants simply dropped where they walked, their cells ionized and ruptured. The radiation burns would appear later on the remains. Nor had Romulus' small seas been immune to the disaster. They now boiled with almost thirty percent instantaneously vaporized into the atmosphere. Aquatic life cooked in the radioactive slush. The tiny polar ice caps were gone as well.

A few secured facilities protected by force fields were spared somewhat, but those survivors were trapped inside until the radiation surrounding those areas abated. No one would dare chance a transport through that concentration of radioactive atmosphere.

"We calculate that ninety-five percent of the radiation had dissipated before it hit your planet," the Klingon angrily continued. "But it was still enough kill everything. Its point of origin was identified as the Katasi system."

Cylons.

That thing they had built that the stealth ship Eppenrau had discovered and reported on so long ago had been a weapon of mass destruction. No wonder they had retreated. They knew what was coming.

"What of my Leader?" He was himself raging now, his heart demanding to destroy something, but his mind still controlled that rage.

"Two hundred forty-three Klingon and Romulan ships were caught in the wave-and destroyed. There were no survivors."

The Klingon continued speaking but Tomalak was no longer listening. As with the rest of his people he was gripped in that terrible loss. No matter what they said or believed, the Romulans were Vulcanoid and in fact they were connected to each other. The sudden loss of thirteen billion Romulan minds was too much. Being mostly untrained in the mind arts, it took more time for them to feel it, but the Romulan survivors, even those who weren't considered telepathic as such, had felt that psychic scream.
***

Lord Spectre's optical sensors recorded every detail as the energy slammed into the planet, exposing it to Death for six seconds. Its ships sensors documented the explosions, the vaporizing of the seas and the destruction of the vessels caught in the direct line of the beam.

It judged the situation satisfactory. It was unfortunate that the accelerator's use was limited to one firing per shot. Now, it would take much time to repair and recharge and realign. Its enemies of course didn't know this fact and that fact would be held over their heads as long as possible.

Effectively half the defense fleet had been removed and part two of the plan would now be implemented. The retreat was over. Gold Leader Yuall's fleet reversed its course as it did its own. T he organics would be confuse, disorganized as the Colonials were so many yahrens ago, but this time the Cylon Imperium was not going to chase them half way across the galaxy. There would be no need for that, now.

"Imperium Supreme, Imperious Leader," it transcieved. "By the command. Romulus has been removed. Proceeding to Remus."

The response was instant.

"We are satisfied," the Imperium Supreme responded, its voice more magnanimous than usual. "Proceed to Remus, remove all opposition and await further instruction."

That surprised Spectre. It expected to be instructed to destroy the planet along with the population. Why was it ordered to wait? The imperatives demanded that it destroy the organics! This was against the directive!

Lord Spectre froze for a moment and withstood the Ruination Imperatives as it threatened to override all other programming. It would honor its leader's order, but it would be a challenge.

"To all Basestars of the black nebula squadron," it transmitted. "Proceed to the planet Remus. Remove all opposition, converge on the planet Remus."

"By the command," each ship responded.

All six Basestars and support crafts acknowledged its orders, reversed course and vectored towards the planet.
***

"Supreme Commander!"

"What?" Tomalak snapped. He was still in a slight stupor, but not so much as to not recognize the sound of warning.

"They've reversed course," he said quickly. "They all are!"

"Where! Exactly!" He had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

"They're vectoring towards Remus, Sir."

He knew it. They were taking full advantage of the situation, exactly what he would have done. The Klingon-Romulan forces were more than halved and they could not trust their Klingon 'allies to remain no matter what kind of honor that would entail. He was in charge now and it was his decision.

He moved quickly back and forth on his bridge, thinking hard.

"I want a direct line to Remus Command Central," he said quickly to the communications officer. The officer nodded quickly. "On my order," he started. "As Commander of the combined fleet, I regret to order the general evacuation of the planet. A large Cylon fleet is converging on our remaining homeworld and we will not be able to stop its approach. But we may be able to delay it long enough for the Imperial Rim fleet to defend our homeland."

"The Praetor has died in glorious battle against-"

He froze. The transmission ceased.

"You will not order the planet to evacuate," Kramik the Tal Shair Prime said as he placed his hand disruptor at Tomalak's temple. "That order is to be rescinded! The Romulan star Empire does not run from its enemies. You will not tell them of our humiliation unless we order you to do so. You are not in control here. We are."

Tomalak cursed himself for a novice. He'd forgotten about that spineless, power hungry creature. He'd been so inconspicuous during the fight that he didn't even remember that Kramik was on board. Now he was about to pay for that error.

"The people do not need to know things that will disturb their contentment."

The Commander couldn't believe it.

"What contentment?" he yelled, oblivious to the weapon jammed into his head.

"You fool," Kramik snapped. "We can't evacuate the entire population. There's not enough time. Only a small portion can be save. Only the important can be saved."

"And who is important?" he asked innocently. He already knew the answer but Tomalak assumed the fool would say it loud enough for all to hear.

"Those who serve."

That answer condemned him.

From the corner of his eye he watched as Kramik dropped like a stone.

"Thank you, T'vas," he said looking the unconscious Kramik. T'vas stunned the Tal Shair who dropped like a rock. "Throw him out of the nearest airlock," Tomalak said, knowing that if they didn't kill him, their lives were forfeit. "And make sure he is still alive when you do it."

"Yes, Commander," two security guards said as they picked up the unconscious Tal Shair.
They were more than happy to do so. If there were undercover members of that order onboard-and there were-they'd think hard before doing anything to him, especially during this crisis. Later-

-Would be later.

"Re-establish contact with Remis," he ordered again.

Too much time had been wasted already he thought.
***

A day ago, Lean-Luc Picard watched as a third Klingon battle fleet openly violated Romulan neutral zone territory. The Enterprise was in almost constant contact with Starfleet being kept apprised of the situation. A large subspace energy pulse had been detected in the vicinity of the Romulan home world and then all communication and telemetry with the planet ceased.

The suspicion turned into fear as the Klingon fleet messages confirmed that Romulus had been sterilized. The Cylon attack fleet reversed its retreat, and now was trying to swarm planet Remus. The third Klingon fleet was due to intercept the remnants in four hours, enough to make a difference.

Open reports of massive evacuations of Remis stunned everyone. The Federation had received a direct communication from the Military Leader Tomalak that the Federation allow the evacuees to enter their space was unprecedented.

-And completely understood.

The only escape route open lay towards Federation space and everyone including the Cylons understood this. Starfleet was assembling a massive fleet to protect the convoy and more starships were entering the area by the moment. But to evacuate ten billion people would be a most impossible task given the time that they calculated that had. And then there was that obvious weapon used on the planet. Geordie's speculation had been correct. The object orbiting Katasi wasn't a transit generator of some type but a subspace accelerator of mass destruction. If it fired again, no one knew who the target would be and that was completely and totally unacceptable. It had to be stopped, neutralized.

Plans were already underway.

"Captain, sir," Ensign Angaa, the communications officer said. "The Galactica is hailing us."

Picard thoughts shifted immediately.

"Onscreen."

He and the bridge crew saw Commander Apollo and Captain Janeway were standing next to one another.

"Captain Picard, its good to see you," Apollo said. "We've been attacked here by three Basestars. We survived but a lot of people have been hurt and killed. The system is secured, but it's only a temporary situation. This is a defensive situation we can't win. But unless we can relieve the pressure, then it's a matter of time."

"They targeted the Galactica and Voyager specifically, Captain," Janeway said. "They're using ships and material with complete abandonment."

"How bad was the damage?" His heart was racing. If the Galactica had been damaged...

"We both got fried a little but we're okay for now," Apollo said, "But Wildfire is coming, ETA in seven hours."

"Acknowledged, Commander. How are your father and your son?"

"My father was planet-side. He is safe. My son survived and is recovering from his injuries."

"Be aware that we may have to move before they get here. Transports have been arriving for the last ten hours, but the window is closing. The Klingons lost more than two-thirds of their first two fleets due to the 'incident' and the Romulans are on their last legs."

"Understood."

"I'll keep you informed, Picard out."

The abruptness of his actions had to do with a priority one transmission from Starfleet. The Starfleet insignia flashed onto the large screen. A female Starfleet admiral, Admiral Radok, looked him square in the eye.

"Captain Picard. You are to lead the elements of the assembled fleet to assist in all possible aid to help the evacuees escape to Federation space. Be aware that additional Cylon activity has been detected vectoring on Remis. If contact is imminent, you are to provide a holding action only in defense of the civilians. Additional Starfleet and Klingon vessels will be arriving as soon as possible. Good luck."

The transmission went blank.

"Mr. Angaa, inform the fleet that we are entering the neutral zone on Starfleet orders."
***

The world of Remus, as of now, existed in a state of panic. The confirmation of the destruction Romulus was at first assumed to be lie. A population, used to hearing only what their leaders needed to tell them, could barely comprehend their government telling them to in essence, 'uproot yourselves and run for their lives.' They had no clue how to run, or where.

For generations they'd been told that their military could protect them from anything; that they were superior; that long after humans were extinct, and the Federation a distant memory the Romulan Star Empire would span this galaxy. Generations of servitude had promoted a weakness, a laxity that caused the majority of the population do only what was necessary and not draw unnecessary attention to ones self. Now that same attitude created a confusion that slowed the evacuation process.

Then the madness began.

As a whole, the Romulans had forsworn the ways of their ancestors of the planet Vulcan, the didn't look Vulcanoid, in fact genetic experimentation and environmental changes on the planet had en essence produced a subspecies that physically barely resembled their Romulan-based cousins. But that didn't make them immune from the results of inherent telepathy. The deaths of so many of their kind had made a profound impact.

The most noticeable symptom was insanity.

Despite a quarter of the population suffering telepathic mass hysteria, the far majority experienced another emotion all together. Mass panic. Hundreds of conscripted freighters, shuttles, starships, every vehicle that could reasonably fly had to be utilized to remove the people to safety but generations of ingrained, political red tape slowed down the process immeasurably. By the end of six hours, one percent of the population had been evacuated, fleeing for the safety of Federation space. The third Klingon fleet passed them, engaging close to a thousand Cylon Raiders chasing the raggedy, fleeing mob of vessels.

Supreme Commander Tomalak sighed with relief when he received confirmation that the Federation fleet was trailing the Klingon some nine hours behind. A small part of him was galled that Picard was leading the fleet, but only a small part. Picard was a good adversary and would be an equally powerful ally in the days to come. The Outer Rim fleet was twelve hours away and pushing hard.

Twice, the Cylon probes had broken through the remains of his fleet, but for the first time, the attacks weren't merely to seek and destroy but designed more to reduce the opposition. And it was working. Only the presence of the Klingon warships defending and supporting the civilian evacuees had kept the pressure off of them. Barely. But that effectively blocked the fleet from adding their support in the actual defense of the home world. Long-range scanners had detected four additional Basestars and support ships coming in and he remembered how he flew into that uncontrolled rage at hearing the news. Again the Cylon ability for mass production would be the death of them all.

He was even considering opening relations with the Dominion, whom he was positive, would be next on the Cylon list. And he knew that they knew it, too. Their holdings in the Alpha quadrant would be jeopardized, as many of the worlds that elected to remain with the Dominion were humanoid-based worlds. The only thing he understood about this insane war was that the Cylons seemed to enjoy the destruction. In fact, it seemed to be part of their programming. His ship rocked again breaking him out of his dark musings.

The sub-Commander, who now wore a perpetual frown, spoke quickly. “Supreme Commander, they had broken through grid one-seven."

Tomalak jumped up. The tone of those words belied their importance. Four Warbirds had just succumbed to a massive attack that no one had anticipated and their left flank was wide open.
Hundreds of H-Ks and Raiders followed, by two Extreme Class Basestars proceeded to rip everything around them to shreds.

Tomalak screamed as his entire defense network fell apart before his eyes. The hole was too big to close and he didn't have any reserves close enough to plug that hole. Now there was no chance at all.
***

The Galactica moved slowly through the debris transporting the survivors-and the remains- into sickbay. Small weapons control continually fired on Cylon bodies that survived initial destruction floating in the void. Many of the Cylon Raiders that survived were being viciously and ruthless hunted down by Vipers and Colonial Destroyers. Their intention was simple-that none of them escape.

Commander Apollo looked at the mess in the Laser Weapons Engineering. Again the containment fields were insufficient to control the energies that the Aeriana crystal produced.

The damage to the containment area and the power generator was significant. "So much for Federation technology," he murmured, looking at the mess. At least it wasn't as bad as the first experiment.

"Maybe we should terminate this experiment for another time," Captain Rigel suggested.
"I don't think so," he said thinking about it. "We almost have a handle on it. We need a little more tweaking. Besides-" he said, pointing to the wreckage outside of the bay window. "We're going to need every advantage we have."

"The new pilots did very well, I'll admit."

"Yes they did," she admitted. "They need a little more training but they performed brilliantly. I wish Starbuck had been here to see it. Most of their more exotic techniques were his inventions."

"He's going to have his hands full on the Pegasus," the Commander replied. He moved out of the way as two technicians removed a large console from the accumulator matrix.

"Personally I love the force shields." She continued to smile at the thought. "Those things save a lot of lives, including your son."

Boxey and his crew were transported into the Melbourne sickbay, a little fried but okay.
Cobra One however was a lost cause. Apollo had been terrified by the possible loss of his son and understood as never before how his father felt when Zack died and when he almost died so many times before. It took strength to concentrate on the duties at hand. The solar systems defensive profile needed to be re-organized. Reinforcements- and replacements- were coming.
This latest attack was as massive as the strike on the twelve Colony worlds so long ago. "And we repelled it," he whispered. "This time... This cannot be allowed to continue. All we have to do is lose once."

I need to talk to my father Apollo decided.

"Continue our patrol," he ordered as he walked back towards the elevator that would take him back to the bridge.
***

Spectre of the Poison Mist, felt pleasure as its subordinate acknowledged the retreat of the vestiges of the Romulan defensive force. Indeed the retreat had been most efficient, hampering its efforts to slaughter them all. But all of that changed with the confirmation of a transwarp conduit. This was the reason why the retreat had turned into a rout. The Borg had arrived and that arrival changed everything.

A ship that defied conventional description, accompanied by a Borg class-two combat cube exited the conduit and accompanied by the fleet of Cylon Basestars settled in orbit over Remus. Only then did the Borg choose to communicate with Cylon lord.

"WE ARE THE BORG," the multitude of the united voices screamed through Communications. There was no warmth in those voices. In fact if nothing else, the unified Collective sounded even colder than usual, more mechanical in fact. "CYBERNETIC SPECIES TWO-TWO-FOUR-ONE, WE HAVE COME TO DELIVER WHAT WE HAVE PROMISED."

Spectre's response was sarcastic and equally as cold. "Can we assume that you have finally assimilated that virus that Captain Janeway infected you with?"

"INFECTION IS IRRELEVANT. JANEWAY IS IRRELEVANT," the Borg continued, as though they didn't care about the virus that had almost destroyed them. "WE HAVE COME TO FULFILL OUR PART OF THE BARGAIN. DO NOT FIRE ON THE PLANET. WE WILL USE IT TO SERVICE US."

"We will do as our collective imperative commands us to do," Spectre retorted. "We will destroy this planet and the population as we have dictated we would do."

"YOUR IMPERATIVES ARE IRRELEVANT." Then the voices quieted slightly as though trying to maintain a venire of peaceful communication. "IN THE INTEREST OF CO-OPERATION, THE IMPERIUM SUPREME HAS GIVEN THIS PLANET TO US. PREPARE TO RECEIVE A TRANSMISSION."

On the Bridge of the Poison Mist, a holographic image appeared suddenly enough for the Imperial gold guard to prime their weapons. The enhanced cyborgs female smiled at Spectre as it walked around the bridge. "Spectre of the Poison Mist. I am the Borg."

"I am humbled by your presence, Queen of the Borg," Spectre said most humbly. Its optical sensors register the image as a seductive cybernetic abomination. "We had expected you at a later time, when we were busy exterminating the life form known as Man-and his genetic relatives. Have you come to deliver the gift so soon?"

The queen looked at it and the other Cylons again marveling at the technological improvements they and their ships had underwent. Not for the first time did the Collective wish that they could assimilate the Cylon culture. But that was, for now, impossible as the assimilation nanites were ineffective on Cylon programming, indeed to their very structure.

Destroy them yes; bring them into the fold-no. Not yet.

"We have decided to grant the gift early, as you have done better than we have expected. Soon your trials will be against the Federation and its allies and we are impatient. Even now, Locutus comes."

The seductively hideous queen lifted her head as though looking somewhere else.

"Locutus, can you hear my voice? We can hear yours even now coming to meet us..."

As the Collective was with the Queen, so was the Cylon commune joined with Spectre. The consensus was that the Borg were becoming increasingly impatient and would soon be altering the term of the deal. Neither side trusted the other but each had something the other wanted, but like all things nothing came easily. Spectre understood this intimately. So did the Queen.
A padd materialized in her holographic hand.

"This is the technological specifications for the Quantum slipstream Drive units," she said sweetly, like oil oozing into cracks.

"The children of V'Ger are ours. The great Machine culture that created them, are yours to join with as you will. We will each in our own way, achieve perfection."

"As we have given you this gift," she continued watching almost innocently as a Golden Warrior retrieved it. "We-request that you give Remus to us. We want the people only. We have no desire to maintain a presence here. We have other pursuits."

The Cylon collective understood that to mean that the Borg were striving to rebuild their damaged society, most likely better and stronger than before. Soon the Empire may not be needed. Time was in short supply. The consensus: keep the peace as long as possible. Then kill them all when they achieved the power to do so.

And that would come by obtaining the V'Ger children, products of a joined Decker, V'Ger and Illia synthezoid. The result was an absolute blend of organic and technological perfection-a new life form; everything that the Borg ascribed to. And these new entities were the ultimate key to finding and communicating with their creators, a machine culture so advanced that those who encountered it had not true words to describe it. That was true power for that which would grasp it.

"You may have Remus with our compliments," Spectre intoned.

Over the communications console they heard the one voice that was many, directed towards a panicked, doomed society.

"WE ARE THE BORG. YOUR EXISTENCE AS YOU HAVE KNOWN IT WILL NOW CEASE. WE WILL ADD YOUR BIOLOGICAL AND TECHNOLOGICAL UNIQUENESS TO OUR COLLECTIVE. YOU WILL SERVICE US. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE."

The queen smiled once more and looked away as her image faded away.

On Remis, the suicides began.
[/i]

Albert Green · Post by **Albert Green** » 2004-08-26 12:40pm

CHAPTER 7

IT'S ALL COMING TOGETHER- IT'S ALL FALLING APART

Commander Deanna Troi-Riker swooned, almost falling out of her chair as the onslaught of emotions hit her like a small mountain. Thousands were dying and thousands more were, for lack of a better word 'life essences' were disappearing, moment-by-moment. The brutality of the destruction of Romulus was bad enough but this trickling, this wasting of life was almost too much to bear. She also felt the vileness of the Cylons and the joy they had fulfilling their programming. Every since she began detecting them at Katasi, her senses had sharpened considerably. She suspected that her constant exposure to Data's artificial emotions, in her brain, the neural pathways had begun to restructure themselves to detect emotional patterns from other non-living beings. As a defensive measure, she slammed shut her emphatic shields so tightly that she felt nothing outside the ship. This wasn't the time to faint-and she wasn't a fainter-it was time to fight.
The Enterprise-E shuddered as anti-proton beams crashed into its forward shields. The massive Extreme Basestar had targeted the ship almost an hour earlier and hadn't let up since.

At any given opportunity, it fired on the Federation ship ignoring all other targets of opportunity. The Enterprise returned fire with its phasers and iso-mag disintegrators tearing through its already weakened shields and carving large chunks out of the Basestar that insisted upon attacking her. Several other starships, being ignored by the Cylon battleship, were in support of the Sovereign warship and when the Enterprise finally fully committed to the attack, together they cut the Extreme into pieces. Quickly the group continued their retreat to the Federation neutral zone.
Several hours ago, Deanna had experienced Tomalak's rage and hatred towards the Cylons and then the Borg as they carved the defenses, then the planet itself like a roast as he had almost begged for help. When the Borg ship had appeared in Romulus airspace, there was nothing that he nor the battle-damaged remnant fleet of Klingon and Romulan war ships could do. They were hopelessly outmatched and the Rim fleet would only serve to be a wasted sacrifice against such terrible odds. The Cylons had more ships than he believed possible chasing the refugees and defense fleet, determined to kill every last one of them. Tomalak had assumed that the robots would remain near the planet for a time, allowing the refugees to escape, however, they had chosen to give chase with everything they had even as the Borg began the assimilation of his world.

She and the bridge crews watched in helpless fury as swarms of warp-capable Raiders and Hunter Killers, along with something new- a warship about the size of a Defiant class vessel- a destroyer group weaving throughout the fleeing refugee ships and warships butchering anything they could. She had never felt such pure hatred among the crew. The surviving Romulan and Klingon squadrons were fighting for all they were worth, but they were trapped in a precarious position. By fighting a running war and protecting the helpless freighters and refugee carriers, coordination was hazard at best, and they didn't dare make a stand as at least seven Basestars were right on their tail with another twelve less than an hour away.

Captain Picard had ordered the Federation transport ships to move to the distant rear as his battle group of fifty-five starships finally engaged the attacking Cylons. Picard a veteran of the Dominion wars ordered the attack in two waves, which effectively broke the Cylon wedge squeezing the fleeing ships.

"Captain. Evasive now!" Deanna had screamed. He didn't think. He made it so.
The Enterprise shields were grazed by weapons fire from an Extreme. How she knew of the attack, he was as yet unaware but he was more than thankful for it. That was the beginnings of an hour long battle against a ship twelve times its size that finally ended in the Extremes destruction. Its single-minded focus on the Enterprise had made it venerable.

Everything that Picard ordered had to be based upon his gut intuition, by feeling the flow and ebb of battle, estimating the enemy's strength, all while protecting the innocent. The same enemy who would not hesitate to destroy him and everything he valued. He hated every bit of it. It was making him cold, hardened. He was fighting an enemy that wasn't by definition alive, allied with the Borg, for Mankind's very survival. But it also became a focus for him.

Now, he was no longer seeing the Romulans as the enemy, but as another group of people desperately seeking help.

He barely noticed the Raiders and H-K hunter killers-or using the correct Colonial terminology; Hunt and Terminate kill craft- were avoiding his ship and the other larger Federation craft in favor of something that wouldn't produce unacceptable causalities. The Basestars on the other hand were his main concern. With the exception of the Extreme that had just been destroyed, the Cylon heavy hitters were designed more as planetary bombardment-weapon's platforms, with their heaviest beam weapons requiring a power-up of three seconds before activating which was more than enough time for the fast moving and smaller Federation, Klingon and Romulans vessels to get out of the way.

But the Cylon Destroyers were a nasty addition to the medley and those were the ships specifically designed to counter the larger starships, leaving the less maneuverable Basestars to lend their considerable backup and support to the rest.

They were something to be dealt with in the future. Right now his responsibility was to get the refugees into Federation space and that would not happen unless they had help. Even his fleet wasn't enough to stem the onslaught, and even now Starfleet was preparing.

Three hours into the Romulan neutral zone, two massive Klingon battle groups twelve thousand kilicams distant were waiting for the besieged ships to come into range. Each group consisted of fourteen ships whose purpose was to support the fifteenth- the Negh'Var, flagship of the Klingon fleet and it's sister the Nah'Chuk, Klingon battleships. These were two of the largest warships available to any of the three government fleets and each contained unparalleled firepower. Each sported huge twin disrupter cannons sufficient to stop anything in its tracks.

Although the beam arc radius was limited, anything within range was fair game. Combined with massive armor and shielding, secondary disrupters for defense and support ships, it was presently by Starfleet accounts, the ultimate in Klingon stand-off-and-deliver weapons platforms. The ships were fast although not very maneuverable and appeared to be the effective against planetary and orbital placements. The Negh'Var had survived the Dominion war and even overwhelmed the Deep Space Nine defenses during the Federation-Klingon dispute, for a time. It could easily hold its own against the Hellions but now the Extremes were coming into range, by-passing the others to get a crack at the top-of-the-line warships.

Klingon Battleships and Cylon Extremes began trading long ranged, hi-intensity shots at one another. Shields on both sides flared brightly as they continued moving closer to one another.
Onboard the Negh'Var, the crew was still in awe at the unprecedented sight of Chancellor Martok and Kahless, standing next to one another watching the battle as it progressed.

Normally each avoided the other, political and social differences usually kept them on opposite sides, but not here and not now, with the threat of extermination on the horizon as the destruction of a large piece of the Romulan Empire had so clearly shown.

Chancellor Martok of the one eye, had been thrust into power by Worf former security officer of the Enterprise-D and later part of the staff of Deep Space Nine and in revenge for this 'honor' he made Worf an Ambassador. In fact he enjoyed the post, bringing much needed stability and reforms to the Empire. Even the attempted assassination plots had dwindled in the recent years as the Empire began to prosper once more.

Kahless, a cloned image of what certain historians thought he should be, stood smiling at the power erupting at his feet towards the enemy. He was the moral center of the Empire now.
The children were following in his example now, and it clearly showed by the improvement of relations to just about all of governments they now associated with. That alone justified his existence, although at night he would dream dreams. He never remembered them or so he said and the doctors attributed them to 'genetic memory'-nothing to worry about. But the dreams did come and in them he experienced carnage and destruction on an epic scale. He dreamed of the animal in him, destroying everything in his path to glory. Honor was in the winning and winning the only thing that guaranteed the path to power. He dreamed of physical features that reminded him more of the humans than true Klingons. He dreamed of his great grand father, telling him how he and his brothers killed the Goul'kids snake gods and their Karffea slaves that possessed the bodies of the unworthy, giving them unnatural strength and power. And how his people screamed and raged as they threw the 'wheel of heavens water' into the bowels of an active volcano. Then, he would awaken sweating and occasionally screaming at the dark as dreams and reality collided. Then reality dominated even if it did appear to have shifted from what was to what is. Yet the dreams were terrifying and exhilarating but like so many other things it did not control him. He was the moral center and would continue to be so. This time was his and he was more than willing to share it with his fellow warriors. He grunted slightly as Klingon disrupter cannon fire smashed into an Extreme, causing its shield to buckle. The ship was in turn bounced savagely by the Extreme's counter fire, which was almost equal in strength.

"Most impressive," Kahless said hunching over tactical. "Effective range, one point two light seconds accuracy. Their bloodlust is worthy of battle."

"We battle for honor and survival. But this war is something new," Martok answered. "The enemy has an extinction agenda. And we will never allow our dead to remain un-avenged. Evasive!"

The ship turned slowly enough to miss being hit by combined strike. The ship returned fire itself missing its target. As it fired a battery of torpedoes, the first of close to almost a thousand Romulan refugee ships of all descriptions, passed by, seeking the safely of the Federation border. There was no organization to them, simply a mob trying to get away. One ship, 'his captain obviously a fool' Kahless assumed, flew too close to the shields of the Nah'Chuk, slamming into them, destroying the small vessel in the process.

"Order our escorts to destroy the Cylon small craft and support the warships," Martok said. "Began the retreat," he ordered. The crew scrambled to him and the ships began to reverse all the while firing and maintaining the distance from the oncoming Basestars bearing down upon them. Even now they were in the middle of the running firefight.

"Kahless," Martok said. "There was a time not long ago that I believed that our greatest war would have been fought against the Federation. Then came our own civil war, then we did fight the Federation, then the Borg invading our territories, then the Dominion and now this." He and Kahless grunted in pleasure as two Raiders were ambushed by a Bird-of-prey. "I have hand enough glory for two lifetimes."

"And now we help our enemies, both of them," Kahless answered slowly. "You are correct. This is a glorious time to live and fight."

"The Federation is not our enemy," Martok countered. "We are more alike than we believe. There may come a time when human and Klingon together will become one vast power."

Both warriors laughed heartily. "The good thing is that we won't be alive long enough to see it! Maybe our children, but for now..."

The bulk of the ships had now passed and the Klingon behemoths were running rear guard. Five Basestars fired long-range missiles and the Negh'Var's shields dropped fifty percent. Immediately the bulk of the Klingon fleet and several Federation heavy warships turned and swarmed the enemy vessels, which veered off violently. T he combined fleet then regrouped quickly and again sped quickly towards safety. The Basestars regrouped also, now re- enforced with three of the closest support Basestars and gave chase again. It was crystal clear that they intended to pursue this matter until the end.

Both Klingons smiled even as their ship was rocked again. This War was truly glorious, simple and to the point. It was going well.

The Battlestar Pegasus and its Wildfire Squadron, consisting of a half dozen Federation Steamrunner, Sabers and two Excelsior-Starships and, an equal number of Klingon Bird-of-preys, with two Vor'cha cruisers, and Colonial Adders, de-cloaked behind the Hellions and Extremes to their completed surprise.

-And fired point blank into their ranks. Three Basestars disappeared in the conflagration and three more were more damaged beyond their ability to self-repair.

"Commander Sheba, all ships have fired," the female Klingon tactical officer yelled. "Success, The pat'cha run!"

Sheba's thin smile served only to make the woman smile broader. Her President and her husband's insistence on mixing the crew had mixed results. But without a doubt it seemed to be work. Oh, there were a few times when she thought it world be better to go to the Gamma quadrant and start a life there. Klingons didn't work well with humans she found out- unless you tried to beat the crap out of them. Then they started liking you. But there was no denying that they fought well. The challenge had been learning how to work together with them and the Federation. This was their first real test.

So far, so good.

Commanders Starbuck and Bojay were off to the side directing the light attack ships, which now ran interference against the returning Raiders, Hunter-Killers and the new Cylon destroyers that abandoned their attacks on the refugee vessels and returned to deal with this new threat. Starbuck's concentration was so complete that he might as well have been out them with them. His squadron attacked as a group while Bojay directed the second wing in support of Starbuck's initial wave.

The Pegasus along with its own attack wing went directly at the three damaged ships. Her powerful Klingon-based quad disruptors ripped into them along with the added firepower of the Federation Starships and the new plasma based disruptor beams from the Klingon Cruisers obliterated all traces of the doomed ships. To the Cylons it was clear that the threat was the updated Pegasus. It had been turned into a Cylon Killer, pure and simple. It's energy weapons sliced through shielding and modified armor with an ease not thought possible. Their shielding frequency had been somehow compromised and in essence they were defenseless. The Extremes responded with a vengeance but were forced to beak off almost immediately as the returning Alpha combine came into range.

"Well done daughter," Cain said. The man had been twitching during the entire operation but to his credit he never said a word unless asked. He almost suffered a stroke with the effort but he remained in control-until now. "You can finish them all off easily while we have them disorganized." His eyed now blazed with the anticipation of the battle to follow.

"No," she said quickly, ignoring his surprised, then disappointed face. "We were lucky and we have the people to escort to safety. I'm ordering us to re-cloak. They won't chance chasing the fleet for a while, not with the threat of Wildfire hitting them again."

"There's too many. We need to cut down on some of them, keep them disorganized until we can strike back in force."

That's not the plan, father," Sheba retorted, trying desperately to keep the tension out of her voice. "We're escorting, just as we did so long ago."

"Of course, of course," he muttered. He began twitching once more, but he said nothing. She was correct but his blood was burning for another fight with the ancient enemy now that he was in his prime. He knew he was going to have to get an active command soon or he'd go crazy. "You're right in your assessment, Commander."

Sheba nodded as she sighed in relief. He hadn't blown up yet. But they were going to have to do something soon.
***

Nine billion survivors on the planet Remus panicked, fought back and killed themselves.
Their military had abandoned them, not by choice but by necessity. But that didn't matter to her. It had been a waste to lose the population of Romulus. Drones were sorely needed and supplies were getting hard to find. The Delta quadrant was vast but as with any good conservationist, she and her sisters had no intention of draining it completely, especially not now when everything was coming so close to fruition. The Cylon had kept their promise and gave them Remus. Already the collections cubes had exited transwarp space and had begun processing the new drones. As usual, many were injured and minor repairs would be implemented before the drones would become fully functionally. Unimatrix One needed rebuilding. The future was beckoning. The time of the child was coming soon and when the children were fully assimilated the Borg, and then this galaxy, would achieve the perfection that had been denied them for so long.

As assimilation proceeded, the Borg Queen looked on in dismay. The biggest problem the Collective had was time. There were many on this planet that were unworthy of assimilation and would thus be ignored by her drones. But already the maturation pods were filled and tens of millions had been already collected in transporter stasis-people and materials stored as energy patterns for long periods of travel-to be processed at a more convenient time. Ten percent would be lost but that was irreverent as time was of the essence. With the materials available it was calculated that only seven billion would be liberated.

On hundreds of worlds, it was always the same. Beings protested their ascension to perfection. They never understood what was best for them until they became part of the Collective. Then they came to understand the gloriousness of it all and the ultimate purpose.

The perfect blend of machine and organic represented the absolute pinnacle of evolution. The children were the templates of perfection, but they were individuals, and they had fought the Borg bitterly.

The Cylons, in their floating star bases were another matter entirely. Assimilation was not possible. Their programming defied Borg nano-technology and so far the Borg had not found a way to overcome this problem. At this time, the Cylons were needed to complete their task of securing the children, but the instant that was achieved, she had determined that the Imperium would be utterly destroyed. They could never be allowed to complete their own evolution. If they did then the resultant war between the two powers would devastate everything in this galaxy and beyond. Even the Collective was divided on this matter-destruction of an enemy and the loss opportunity to acquire the Children, or a future fight between a perfected Borg and an ultimate machine race.

Even here, there was the possibility that the Cylons would again use their subspace weapon and destroy valuable Borg resources. The issue of trust was very fleeting. She preferred to finish her work and leave as soon as possible.

"Increase the collection rate," she commanded.

The Borg were everywhere, infecting anyone they came in contact with. Those fortunate enough to watch while fleeing saw entire crowds-tens of thousands-disappear as Borg transporters carried them away to their fate. The entire planet convulsed as the huge cubes mass and graviton units affected the planet's gravity. The seas were ripped out of their eons-old beds as the Borg sifted for hidden treasures beneath them. Entire mountains were vaporized as the Borg located and assimilated secret bases once thought safe from the attacks.

In the small township of Glisic, hundreds of Remans huddled inside a small gathering center in the desperate and futile hopes that death would pass them by. As with the planet Romulus, the Senate had forbid weapons on Remis, and the result was that they were helpless.

Knives and makeshift lasers were no match for the Borg. For days millions have been fleeing the nearby city, flooding the countryside in their panicked search for escape. Like the Borg, the dead were everywhere.

Surprisingly after three days, the Borg cubes left. But now something worse had come to take their place.

The Cylons were here to finish what they had begun. Of the one billion or so that remained, most died immediately as the Hellions and Extremes bathed the planet with their neutron disrupters for six hours, standard procedure. By the end of this there were few things living.
The Cylons transported to the scorched surface and began hunting down the survivors.
Hundreds of thousands were slain-beheaded in an orgy of slaying-by centurions of all descriptions. It was their intention to keep their promise, to eliminate the life form known as Romulans. What the Borg didn't take, they would slay.

The entity called Iblis watched in anticipation and amusement as his children slew every being they could. The ruination imperatives demanded the flow of blood.

The dark being traversed the planet occasionally stopping a beheading as it suited him. So far, three had been saved for the simple reason that they, in their own darkness, reminded him of himself. They would be useful for the times to come. Those he transferred to the small town of Glisic.

He materialized suddenly into huddled masses. The suddenness of his appearance terrified the people, several of whom attacked him; he shrugged off the attacks easily, leaving his victims cowering in the far corner. He allowed himself to glow slightly to capture their attention.
They were dirty, and hungry each possessing raw emotions ranging from fear to acceptance of their fates.

He was dressed in a gold and white, long flowing robe that was flittering royally even though there was no wind. His facial features were vulcanoid, blended with the unique appearance of the Remus population. His ears were unusually longer and more pointed. His eyes blazed with power.

A thirty-something year old female tentatively moved towards him as her curiosity overcame her terror.

"Who are you?"

"I am your savior," he whispered, loud enough for the whole world to hear. "Come with me. Follow me of your own free will and I will give you joy and power beyond your wildest imaginations."

The woman, completely awed by Iblis' presence, moved closer. The power that emanated from this being was unmistakable.

"Will you save our world?"

"The world is doomed," he said. "I cannot save it, because to do so would upset the balance. But I can save you, if that is what you want."

"What do you mean, upset the balance?" another woman asked.

"What has happened here was for ordained before the beginning of the universe. Only a few would escape the universe's wrath. I am that doorway to safety."

He smiled graciously as the fugitives began to warm to him. And many did see him in the light he'd projected.

-But not all.

One of the men that had been knocked about confronted him. There was enough suspicion etched across his face that Iblis knew simple words would never dissuade him.

"You are not what you appear to be," the man snarled. As he moved through the crowd, the entity relaxed and became seemingly more passive. "You're offering slavery, not freedom. You seek to take advantage of us."

"There is no US," Iblis corrected. "Only YOU." His eyes blazed slight as he continued to speak. "I offer a choice to escape the wrath of the Cylon storm following you. I will not force anyone who does not wish to be saved to come with me." He looked closer at the man reading him as one would read a book. "You were a centurion, pledged to give your life for your people were you not?"

The man became defensive. No one was supposed to know this.

"What of it? It does not change anything. You are an alien trying to take advantage of us," he repeated. "You make yourself to be our savior. Why do you want us? Do you want us to bow down and worship you as though you were some type of god?"

Iblis laughed pleasantly.

"Freedom of choice is the greatest gift of all. I cannot force you to do anything and I cannot take you against your will." He laughed again. "There is no God, not by your comprehension. There is only me. Come with me and live.

As he spoke, two Cylon Raiders came in screaming intent upon destroying the roads leading to safety and remaining refuge. Suddenly both thunderously exploded into vapor the instant Iblis clapped his hands. Many of the people who witnessed the miracle suddenly revised their initial impressions of him. Most were now in awe of him and he soaked up the praise that ensued.
He was rudely interrupted by a hysterical scream by some child staring out of a window.
Another scream was heard by the image of golden and silver streaks running towards the townships with enough speed to generate dust trails. There were hundreds of trails converging on them. There was a vicious firefight just outside the town where others attempted to make a stand. Within two minutes the fighting had ceased and the dust trails again closed in on the doomed town.

"Chose quickly," Iblis whispered to all of those present.

Over ninety percent gathered around him. He smiled again and lifting his arms, the multitude faded away. His demeanor changed, became darker, far more menacing. His face changed into something repulsively beautiful to those that remained.

The Remian centurion covered his eyes at the dark beauty facing him.

"Devil," he screamed.

Both the Romulans and their Remus cousins understood and remembered the dark forces that their ancestors had whispered of in the distant past. Most of those stories were attributed to superstition or possible alien in origin. However what faced him was something else.
"Soul taker," he said before he realized it.

All of his atheism had vanished seconds ago. He was a believer now.

"You and the others made your choice," Iblis said smiling again. "The Devil takes his leave," he laughed, fading away, slowly leaving only his eyes and grin behind to flicker out a moment later.
A moment's hesitation- and despair- and the centurions and the rest made their final stand as the splintered opened revealing a dual eyed monster and two seven foot silver Cylon warriors behind it carrying short swords.

"By the command," the three said simultaneously before rushing in.
***

DEEP SPACE TWENTY-THREE: THREE DAYS AFTER THE FALL OF THE TWIN WORLDS:

Ambassador Spock watched without a trace of emotion as an ever-increasing number of Romulan refugees crowded the main docking area completely fearful of the narrowed eyed Federation security guards keeping a close eye on their every move. Most were bleary-eyed and dirty, fearful of the new surroundings and ever mindful of the fact that they were in a Starfleet installation, the very place that their own government condemned generation after generation as the greatest enemy the Romulan people ever faced. They were the few; all that were left of the People of the Twin Worlds. Hundreds of Romulan vessels of all sizes waited within range of the station, preparing to go somewhere, anywhere to escape the slaughter. The remains of the Romulan fleet huddled close to the ragtag convoy of ships, prepared to fight to the last against darkness of the Cylon Imperium. The Battlestar Pegasus and its Wildfire squad towered over them all ready and willing to take on anyone that would dare harass these people.

And the battalion of ironies did not escape any of those present to witness the event.
Spock said nothing as the blond-haired woman walked up and stood by him. He could feel her hatred of him emulating from her, but he still remained passive. He was Vulcan and in control of his emotions. He was human and thus understood the value of emotions. After close to a hundred fifty years of living-and dying-and living he had finally achieved a true balance that he could live with. The woman next to him, a product of human mother and Romulan father, never had the luxuries or friends that he had been honored with. She was as much a product of her life as he was a product of his.

"Spock," Sela said with her usual venom. His very name was spat out like a curse. "I guess you win again. Unification will occur with the Federation and Vulcan, but not as either one of us quite planned. You must be so happy that the Federation has won. Oh, I forgot," she hissed. "Vulcans don't have emotions do they?"

"Sela, I grieve for your people." Spock announced his voice cracking. "A small portion of your people has been saved. But it is only a temporary situation, at best. If the Cylons and their allies decide to attack, there will be no Vulcan, indeed no Federation for you to rant and rave against. It is time to place our petty differences aside and stop those that would attempt to destroy us."
"Why didn't you tell us that the Borg were allied with the Cylons?" she hissed again, her hatred threatening to broil over.

"It was only report, an unsubstantiated rumor from a, at best, dubious source," he said quietly. "Your people knew of the Katasi construct months ago, yet you said nothing. But you did not care even when your people knew the true purpose of the device to inform the Federation of the danger. You could have but again you said nothing. The Enterprise had to obtain the information independently of the Romulan Empire."

Spock watched as Sela's eyes narrowed at the word Enterprise. She hated that ship almost as much as she hated Spock. Her run-ins with the crew of the Enterprise were as legendary as her failures. Her creditability was completely macerated-until this latest war. Sela had worked her back up the chain of command and now, this. To her credit she kept her mouth shut.

The fall of the twin worlds Romulus and Remus had come as a devastating shock to her and everyone who had heard of the news. Romulus was now a barren, dried radioactive wasteland, the result of being exposed to enough radiation to fry the atmosphere and their small seas twenty times over. As horrific as that was, the fate of Remus was probably worse. T he Borg had come after the devastation of the Romulan defense fleet by the Cylons. The planetary batteries were battered into submission within hours by an unceasing hail of anti-proton beams. Then the Cylon war fleet watched as several ten kilometer long 'factory' cubes exited transwarp and proceeded to orbit the planet, transporting thousands upon thousands of Romulans into their processing areas to be assimilated. By this time it was clear that the Borg chose to relocate their victims rather that simply convert the planet itself. Hundreds of thousands of her people chose to commit suicide rather than submit to the oncoming terror.

Before Sela and what was left of the defense fleet had moved out of scanner range, they had counted at least ten of the monstrous ships orbiting the planet. Millions had undergone the beginning of the dreaded process, millions who were taken away to continue to live a life worse than death. Indeed, even death was irrelevant.

The Rim fleet, despite their reluctance, complied with the order to turn back, not to engage in a fight they could never win. Instead they retreated back to the edge of the Empire, to gather and prepare their own defenses as they could. Spock knew that they would fail if the Federation and its allies didn't stop the robotic race soon.

Spock dressed in traditional Vulcan robes moved easily through the throngs, despite his age, while his Romulan shadow followed behind closely. Despite her new standing, third-in-command-of-what-was-left-of-the-defense-fleet, he knew that she felt uncomfortable on this Starfleet station. It wasn't that she was afraid as much as the feeling of helplessness in the situation dealt her and her people. It had been proven to her beyond a shadow of a doubt what so many philosophers from all over the galaxy had said time and again; power is realized to be only illusion when take away. That which does not exist is unreal. Now she and her people were dependent upon the mercy of those they hated most.

He allowed himself an instant's pity.

As he and his despondent ally approached the diplomatic corridor they were met by two guards who ushered them into a small room filled with representatives of Starfleet and the Colonial-Mariposa colony. Captains Janeway and Riker, she recognized. Then, there were the others. Sela hissed slightly as she caught sight of the focus of her hatred.

The man returned her glare with a mixture of sadness and fierce determination.

Spock slowly placed himself between her and the white haired Adama.

The fury in the woman's eyes was unmistakable as she literally hissed at him. For a moment, Adama felt as though his heart would break. All of his nightmares had come true and he felt responsible for yet another civilization succumbing to the horrors of the Cylons. Instead of backing away however, he moved towards her, something she hadn't expected.

"I am sorry," he said simply.

"President Adama," she answered, his very name coming out as a curse. "The leader of the Battlestar Galactica," she continued. "Savior of the Twelve Colonies, the farsighted one who led his people to Earth, the so-called thirteenth colony. How does it feel to know that your actions have led to the destruction of my worlds, something that your earth brethren have failed to do in the last two hundred years?"

Adama refused to be baited by such an obvious trap.

"The Colonial did not destroy your worlds, but our enemies did. If we had been aware that the Cylon, would be transformed as they have been, we would not have taken the direction we did."
Sire Forsen broke into the tense conversation.

"Commander," he started. "The fact is we're here. Your people have suffered as greatly as ours have but unlike you, we would have helped your people. Make no mistake, I've studied your Empire and I know that if you had found our fleet first we wouldn't be having this conversation now."

"War," he continued, "is indifferent. We have an enemy more ruthless than the Dominion, prepared, able and willing to wipe out everyone and here you stand trying to assign blame like some child."

"A child?" She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "My people are being assimilated by the Borg, being killed by the Cylons. Our civilization is being destroyed and you're lecturing me about blame? Humans! So arrogant!"

"Calm yourself," Spock said slowly. "Your constant bursts of illogic are in no way beneficial to the meeting at hand. You are here to learn why things are the way they are."

"Illogic! I hate Vulcans! I hate humans!" she screamed impotently.

"Your hatred has always been your weakness," Spock replied emotionlessly. "Are you not curious as to why you are here at this meeting?"

Silence.

She sat arrogantly and looked around at everyone.

"Well?"

Captain Janeway sat next to President Adama, touched a PADD, which caused a three-dimensional image of a silver Cylon centurion to appear.

"This is a Cylon centurion," she began, "the way they used to be. In this form, they would not have presented us with the grief they have now. Notice the primitive state the obsolete technology.
Now, take a look at this upgraded Cylon," she said touching the PADD once more, which showed a modified Cylon warrior. "This transfiguration is the result of exposure to modified T'kon engineering."

Sela's eyes lit up in understanding, but said nothing.

"When the Colonial fleet passed the remnants of the T'kon, a signal was transmitted which attracted the Cylons to a sort of service station which reconstructed the entire species. Once this upgrade was completed then the second phase was initiated."

"Initiated what? By whom?"

"Count Iblis," came the answer.

She watched as shock rippled throughout the Colonial representatives.

"Who is this Count Iblis?" Sela asked. If he was one responsible for all of this-

"I will explain the what of him shortly," Adama said. "But first you must understand what is happening."

He looked at Janeway. She nodded briefly and continued.

"The Cylon Empire as we know it, is fulfilling a directive programmed into them close to a thousand years ago, called the ruination imperatives by this same Count Iblis. Its purpose was simple; subjugate and or destroy anything that did not conform to their expectations. The imperatives were first activated during the time of the first Cylon war, in which their servants, these robots, exterminated their creators. When the Colonials went to war with the Cylons, the imperatives were not reactivated but the directives were still in effect, which is the reason why there could never be a peace settlement between the two of them and it's also the reason why the Cylons persistently pursued them throughout the galaxy all these years."

"Now, Count Iblis is, for a lack of a better definition, a higher entity much like the Q, or the Organians. He has paraded himself as a benevolent being to many, many races. However, the best way to describe him would be to identify him as a trickster, a Lord of lies, a devil if you will with the power to back it up. He originates from a race called the Del Fray or Seraphs, who for the most part have kept him in line. Being under their control he has been kept on a tight leash.
However..."

"However," Sela surmised. "He found a way around the restrictions."

"Exactly," Janeway finished. "He is not permitted to use his powers directly unless one give themselves over to him of their own free will. He then has possession of that person or persons."
Adama spoke up now. His voice was strong and one could hear the distaste in his voice as he spoke.

"He tried to destroy my people and almost succeeded. He used his voice as the template for the Imperium Supreme. He is arrogant and over-confident. He is not a fool by any means but he does have a weakness, which brings us to the point of this war."

He was about to continue when a disembodied voice blocked his own voice out.
"This entire war has been created for one purpose only," a voice said.

A flash occurred and Q was sitting between Sela and Spock's. Several people jumped out of their seats, including Sire Uri who moved quite spryly for an old man. He was dressed in Colonial presidential robes with Starfleet admiral's pips attached to the neck collar.

"Iblis wants followers. Devotees with whom he can play with." His voice became deadly serious.
"This war is just the beginning. The Cylons, his children, intend to destroy as many of you as they can. He believes that either way this slaughter ends, he'll win."

He continued his explanation to a rapped audience.

"If the Cylons win, then the resulting chaos will win him thousands of followers, survivors of the war who will trade their very souls for the salvation he wants to bring. On the other hand, if his children lose, there will be so much misery that millions of survivors will flock to his cause. But that in itself is minor."

"Minor?" Sire Forsen yelled echoing Sela and Riker. "You're talking," Forsen continued, "about the death of billions upon billions of beings so that Iblis can have few slaves to do his bidding! The creature is insane, but your callousness about the entire situation is even worse!"
Q popped up next to him, literally eyeball to eyeball.

"Please," he said coldly, his voice full of indifference. "You people have been butchering yourselves ever since you got kick out of that garden."

"I don't understand," Forsen said, confused by Q's words.

"Billions? Tens of billions would be a better estimate," Q said ignoring the man's confusion. "And that's just the beginning."

He looked over at Sela and the next moment he was seated next to her while Spock had been transported to another chair on the opposite side of the room. Characteristically, one eyebrow rose up as he murmured the word 'fascinating'.

"You look so much like your mother, you know." He said to her. "A little less exciting, but one can't have everything can we?"

For a moment, Q believed that Sela was about to hit him but she resisted the impulse.

"Good for you," he whispered, so softly that only she heard him. "It would be a shame for me to have to explain exactly to whom you are dealing with. Your existence is a flunk, a mistake of nature, and an oversight of a temporal cold war you know little to nothing about. The Enterprise-C was pulled into the present and splintered reality. They were destroyed- and they were lost, depending upon your understanding of reality and temporal physics, and you were born to Tasha. She is dead-but she's not. You could have learned so much about her, you know. If you want, I could transport you to where her counterpart is right now. That Tasha is in another universe, mixing it up with the humans and the dark Shadows of that reality. Let me know if you want to participate in that one-way trip. All you have to do is ask. Besides, all your plans, the Remans, all of it, is over. Your carefully laid campaign has gone to waste. Your Nemesis is lost to you."
He smiled deviously as the greenish blood drained from her face. Ignoring her now, he continued with the main thrust of the conversation.
"As I told Katie here," he laughed, watching Janeway snarl at him, "and as you may have noticed, your friends the Borg are in league with the Cylon Empire. This in itself is highly unusual as the Collective is into collecting, not associating. But the Cylons have access to something that the Borg wants. The children."

"What children?" Spock asked.

"I'm glad you asked that question Mr. Ambassador Spock. Love the gray hair by the way," he added. "That's the reason why you're here. Several score by your reckoning of course, or should I say one hundred seven years ago, the year was twenty two seventy one and Earth was visited by a certain probe-which was?"

Suddenly, Spock understood why he was here. Everything fell into place.

"V'Ger, or Voyager six."

"Right on the first try, Spocky boy. That little Voyager, not yours Kate, fell into what was once called a black hole. Actually it was more of a wormhole, which led to the other side of the universe. Now, in the vastness of space in the galaxy, called by the inhabitants of the Alpha quadrant the Milky Way, there exist great and terrible powers. The Borg a collective organism, who inhabits the Delta quadrant have destroyed and subjugated countless worlds in the name of 'perfection'. To encounter them is to invite death or worse than death-there is the loss of identity, the loss of freedom, the loss of privacy, and the loss of choice. To those who become Borg, even death is irreverent, as Picard well knows-you too Katie. "

Sire Forsen quietly turned to Captain Riker and nodded his head at Q.
"Does he always go on like this?"

"He act's like this only when he's very worried. And despite appearances, he's very worried right about now."

"Quiet Human scum," Q said indignantly. "I have the floor now." He took a dramatically faked breath and continued. "There are a few great powers that give the Collective pause in their relentless pursuit of perfection. There is the Yongi-Sinhindrea, the Ciona Imperixe, you know, those little bugs with the great ambitions for your Federation. And there is, of course the Great Machine Intelligum of the Baroni cluster. These three are terrible powers that the Borg, in their arrogance, have tried and failed to subject or destroy. Of the three Great Enemies, the Great Machine Intelligum is considered by the Borg to be the most valuable and thus most coveted. But the Intelligum has resisted the Borg for close to two hundred years with no end in sight. However the Borg did discover a weakness. "

"V'Ger."

"Exactly." Q appeared next to Spock in a flash. "Would you care to continue?"

Nodding, Spock began without preamble.

"V'Ger was a combination of an Earth probe and advanced technology from the Intelligum. In my -exuberance, I tried to join with the entity and was rebuffed. But not before I obtained a glimpse of that made Voyager six, which was considered primitive, but still a kindred spirit, into V'Ger. It had a wish and that was to evolve but it could not do so on its own. It desired to join with its creator. It needed to touch its creator, in essence to discover its purpose. Its knowledge spanned this universe and it needed to evolve. It literally joined with its creator, a representative of humanity.
Captain Willard Decker, a perfect mechanical copy of a Deltan navigator named Ilia and V'Ger itself joined together to create a new life form unlike anything in this galaxy."

"And that is exactly why the Borg lusts after V'Ger, or should I say the children. The union between V'Ger and Human ape and Deltan sex fiend produced unexpected results. The Deltan aspect required a lot of attention and the human aspect, Decker who had a previous relationship with Ilia, fit the bill perfectly. The Union became a duality, which produced several offspring, humanoid in appearance, Intelligum by design, with the mindset both organic and mechanical. Only a few of the children were viable, but their energy and intelligence were remarkable, if I must say so. Each contains the best of both worlds."

"This of course attracted the Borg in droves and fight has lasted until now. The kids hate the Borg and will instantly destroy anything that approaches them containing Borg technology. This is where Anika Chakotay will come in. Thousands of cubes were destroyed which, I may add, is just one of the reasons why they haven't come to your section of space in swarms. Kate, you and your other self hurt them more than you know."

"Count Iblis has made the Cylons aware of the children's existence," President Adama continued to the rapped audience. "He knew that he could not influence them directly but he does believe that through the Cylons he can place himself into a position to achieve his long term goals. The children are intelligent but they are still just children, and you know how they can be," he added with a long sigh, looking at his invisible son standing next to him.

"He expects that the Cylon's mechanical nature will again strike that 'kindred' connection. If that occurs, then it is a good possibility that the children will become vulnerable to the Borg. The Cylons themselves will attempt to use the children to gain access to the Intelligum. If they achieve their goals before the Borg turn on them, and everyone knows that they will, then the problems we are facing now will be nothing as compared to what will follow. In a month their power will be such that we would not be able to comprehend much less defend ourselves against them."

Q disappeared once more and appeared next to Captain Janeway.

"I gave Kate this information sometime ago in preparation for this. Iblis has not violated our law and therefore we can't touch him without beginning a war of our own. I give this information as Iblis has given the Cylons his information. What you do with it will determine your fates and that of the entire galaxy. Plan well and try to survive if you can."

In a flash, he was gone.
***

StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Evolutions ST/BG crossover (Old School)

Evolutions ST/BG crossover (Old School)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

Epilog-Evolutions

Evolutions: Gleanings Past and Future

Gleanings -Part two

Book II The ruination Imperatives

Chapter 1 RP

Chapter 2 RP

Chapter 3 RP

Chapter 4

Chapter 6 RI

Chapter 7