*10,000 Cylon Centaurians and 10,000 Kull Warriors get up. Conducted by some human form Replicator, they sing a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday for Tev, in appology for the late Birthday Present*
Real life sucks. Lets just leave it at that.
I know this fanfic is moving far slower compared to other fanfics with exposition up the wazzo, but I DO have a long term arc that requires the board to be set before the peices can move (yes LOTR ROTK is on TV right now).
This chapter of Derelict is dedicated to the glorious (and finally complete) ‘Unity’ saga by Charles Sonnenburg. It is without a doubt the inspiration that drove me to try my hand at really writing a fanfic. It taught me more then anything else NOT to write a piece of fan fiction, but to tell a story, a lesson I am ever grateful for.
If you like ST and SW and you haven’t read it, do so. Seriously. Stop reading this, go and read it.
NOW!
So without further delay…and in Honor of Chuck…and with apologies for going a little silly…
Courscant Orbit.
Courscant System
6 days prior to the formation of the Galactic Empire.
Courscant. A world of contradictions.
A world that produced little - yet produced everything.
A world that required a Galaxy to support it - yet the world that supported the Galaxy.
A world that could start a war - now a world that would end one.
A massive
Venator class Star Destroyer descended slowly into low orbit above the capital of the Galactic Republic, her crimson hull shimmering in the light of the system primary setting on the distant horizon.
Diving to skim along the hull of the massive wedge shaped Battleship were two tiny fighters, looking completely inconsequential next to the gigantic Star Destroyer as they flirted with crisp precision around massive Turbolaser batteries; in truth these ships (or more accurately their pilots) were soon to be the nexus of great events that would change the Galaxy forever.
Reaching the ships bow the two ships (which keen observers would identify as Eta-2 Jedi Interceptors) spun and dove, their engines igniting with sapphire explosions of ionization as they powered into the chaotic mass of the battle beyond-
Then it all went dark.
The Great Amphitheater
Dakara
Free Jaffa Territories.
A roar went up from the thousands of Jaffa in the packed amphitheater as the Battle of Courscant vanished from the makeshift screen mounted against the stone wall at the base of the crater. Lieutenant Colonel Paul Davis quickened his pace as he passed the IMAX scale projectors along the top row of the natural depression that had been converted into an classical Greek style entertainment venue. Moving as fast as he dared in the darkness of night, Davis cleared the projector and returned the picture (and attention of the heavily armed Jaffa around him) to the screen, once again marveling at how surreal the situation he found himself in had to be.
When he had been assigned to the Stargate program, the SGC had been fighting for its life against a foe who could have blasted Earths surface into molten slag at any point, with about the same compunction as he would step on an ant. Earth had somehow survived through those terrifying years thanks to a mixture of skill, focused strategic warfare, some advanced (and rather grey looking) friends…and a hell of a lot of luck.
But never in the Pentagons most optimistic projections had the US Government thought the Goa’uld Empire and social order would fall this fast…and be replaced by a Jaffa society of Star Wars fans. Walking into his first meeting on Dakara with a Jaffa council member and stopping short at the site of two dozen Jaffa staring in rapt attention at Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader dueling in Cloud City, he had quietly admitted to himself that his first off-world posting wasn’t quite turning out the way he had anticipated.
It was only in a chance encounter with Daniel Jackson as he started the long task of packing up his office at the Pentagon that he had started to understand that the apparent absurdity of the situation had roots much deeper then he had initially given it credit for.
Jaffa culture, Daniel explained, had existed as a stagnate and subservient slice of the larger Goa’uld culture for millennia, fulfilling a specific role as incubators, population control and ultimately disposable cannon fodder in battle.
Predictably, the Goa’uld had carefully directed their relatively minimal art and culture along those lines. Public entertainment in the forms of poems, plays and stage productions glorifying their Gods was the norm.
Public entertainment that questioned the status quo often led to public executions.
When Teal’c had turned on Aphosis, a team from the CIA in the ‘know’ on the Stargate program had brought in their best psychologists to try and work up a profile on the alien, before he was allowed to join SG1.
It hadn’t been personal; CIA simply had an intelligence agencies initiate distrust of defectors. Their conclusions hadn’t been very upbeat.
Teal’c, they had decided, had turned on his ‘God’ explosively (and impulsively as the later discovery of his left behind family behind showed) as a result of decades of repressed emotion finding a trigger all at once. He held no real belief that the Goa’uld could ever be defeated, was borderline suicidal, and was simply looking for a way to give the preverbal finger to the Goa’uld before dying gloriously.
While the CIA had eventually dropped the ‘suicidal’ part of his profile, Daniel commented they had been spot on over Teal’c’s belief in any end to the Goa’uld stranglehold on the Galaxy. After all, when you got down to it his entire upbringing had stressed the continuity of the Goa’uld dynasty to the end of days. As the former First Prime to Aphosis, he had seen the massive scope of their empires and truly, what could a single person ever hope to accomplish?
Conversely, there was Star Wars.
A story about the most unlikely group of heroes who against all odds, fought and won a great victory against a galaxy spanning Empire. It had struck a chord with Teal’c and as Davis could see in the packed amphitheater, it had done the same with the fledgling Jaffa nation. The tale of the fall and redemption of Anakin Skywalker was relatively simple as far as Earth literature went but the underlying lessons the story told (compared to stories of their infallible God’s glorious battles) presented with such a stunning visual impact had simply overwhelmed the Jaffa who had watched it.
A round of cheering broke out from the crowd as the Jedi implausibly leaped from their fighters onto the hanger deck of General Grievous flagship, igniting their lightsabers and proceeding to smite droids with enthusiasm. Davis used the distraction to cross the last few meters to the former SG1 member watching the screen with rapt attention.
“Colonel Davis” Teal’c acknowledged the officers presence without as much as a glance away from the screen.
“Teal’c. Sorry for interrupting you, I know you didn’t want to be interrupted tonight short of a planetary invasion, but General Landry is calling from Earth”.
This cryptic statement
did get Teal’c’s attention, turning away from the screen to face the Colonel for the first time.
“The Ancient space station?”
“Yes. Prometheus has been involved in an…incident”. Davis let the statement hang in the air with a significant look, he really didn’t want to get into details in front of everyone in the amphitheater. Teal’c inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement and stood, a simple wave telling several other Jaffa around him to stay and enjoy the movie as he lead Davis out through a second exit without disturbing the picture again. A set of transport rings sent them back the rapidly growing Government sector around the planets Stargate, site of the defeat of the Replicators and formation of a free Jaffa nation.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to offer congratulations earlier on your success today Teal’c” Davis said as the pair walked through the gothic stone corridors. “I hear the vote went down to the wire”.
“Bre’tac managed to convince several of Gerak’s supporters to support our cause” Teal’c agreed with a curt nod. “While this ensured his motion to rule by a high council was defeated, I would not count it as a complete success as of yet”.
“I’d tend to agree, Gerak doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to simply give up because he lost one battle” Davis reflected. He had met the conservative Jaffa several times on Dakara and never failed to be unimpressed by the man. He had joined the Jaffa resistance late in the cause, only a matter of months before the battle of Dakara. While he had fought valiantly in the subsequent moping up operations against his former Goa’uld master, he belonged to the school of thought that humans were barely worth his time on a good day and the Tau’ri in particular could not be trusted in the slightest.
It wasn’t a terribly logical chain of thought, but then Gerak really wasn’t a terribly logical Jaffa.
“He still has his supporters. But his powerbase was always the large numbers of ships and troops at his command. In a true democratic environment, far more Jaffa are against him then for him”.
“Well it’s nice to know one break every now and again can come our way” the Colonel said dryly as they turned past a pair of Jaffa sentries through a doorway, behind which was a long stairwell down into the planetary command centre. “But I wouldn’t count our chickens before they hatch”.
“Are you suggesting I should engage in the cultivation of poultry products?” the Jaffa inquired with a raised eyebrow as they descended the last stairs to the blast doors, guarded by yet another pair of sentries at perpetual attention. One thing Davis had noted about Dakara was that with so many Jaffa looking for something to DO, there was no shortage of them standing guard.
“Well actually I…” Davis’s attempts to explain the chicken metaphor ended as the two entered the command centre. The room was a large hemisphere with various computer consoles ringing the perimeter manned by a half dozen technicians on duty. In the centre of the room directly in front of them was a master command and control station similar to those found in Goa’uld pyramids, which in turn faced a single screen that looked like it had been lifted from the Pel’tac of a Goa’uld Mothership.
Standing off to the side of the master command and control console, and reason for Teal’c halting so abruptly, was Gerak,
“Teal’c” Garek said in greeting, not quite able to keep his voice in a level tone in the presence of the Jaffa who had derailed his bid to rule their young nation. “I am surprised to see you here tonight”.
“An incoming message from Earth demands my attention” Teal’c explained succinctly, but Davis could feel the air between them crackling with animosity.
“Really? How interesting. It would not, by chance, have anything to do with your sending two of our Ha’Tak to a remote star system, would it? One that if I am not mistaken, contains the Tauri vessel Prometheus and a supposedly derelict station built by the Ancients?”
Davis managed to keep his expression neutral, but he surprised Gerak was so well informed. It wasn’t as if Earth had tried (or generally DID try) to make a secret of their ships locations to the Jaffa, but as far as he knew Teal’c had only shared the information about the Ancient Space station with Bre’tac (who was genetically incapable of betraying Teal’c), Raknor (who was commanding the small detachment of ships) and a supposedly friendly council member.
Perhaps not so friendly after all.
“It would” Teal’c said, without elaboration.
“Ah. I see” Gerak nodded politely, tapping several buttons to close down his console before stepping closer to the newcomers. “And you are not willing to tell me what the…significance of this station is? After all, my friend, we live in a democracy now, do we not? Unilateral action is something that is not undertaken lightly in such a system, from what I remember of your most
rousing speech today.”
“I will explain my actions at the council session tomorrow. However as a member of the provisional council I do have authority over deployment of-”
“Teal’c, Teal’c!” Gerak smiled like an old friend. “I would never question your loyalty” -Gerak declared in a tone that suggested he was doing just that- “I was simply hoping that tomorrow, at the council meeting, you and your Tau’ri friends” Gerak gestured at Davis “will give an explanation about what they are doing so far away from Earth that is so critical”.
“The council will receive such an explanation” Teal’c replied in a level tone.
“Excellent. Until tomorrow?” Gerak commented lightly, inclining his head towards Teal’c who returned the bow, before he pushed and to the stairwell, his footsteps slowly fading into the night.
“What was that about?” Davis asked the room.
“I am unsure” Teal’c responded. “But I have little doubt it is something to ultimately further Gerak’s own agenda”. Giving the exit one last look, Teal’c turned back to face Davis. “For now however, General Landry is waiting”.
Teal’c strode across the room to a Jaffa who nodded respectfully and with a few adjustments, materialized the face of General Landry onto a screen. With a last glance at the console Gerak had been using, Davis moved to join him. Had he looked closer, he might have caught the wire frame image of a massive grey space station rotating against a backdrop of stars, before it vanished.
Cloud Nine.
633 Light years from Caprica.
Cylon Genocide + 2-3 days.
As the former terrorist, political prisoner, mutineer and current politician Tom Zarek entered the comfortable mid sized office room the Quorum of Twelve had commandeered for its meetings, he let the calm, affable look that he had had presented to the hoard of reporters outside fall away, replaced by the expression of a man whose universe had just inverted in the last hour.
“Can someone tell me what in all that’s holy and cursed on Kobol; what is going on?” Zarek demanded without preamble, moving to his accustomed position at the head of the long table where the other eleven members of the Quorum were waiting.
“How should we know Tom?” Sarah Porter asked with an irritated look on her face. “Galactica is in a complete lockdown. None of us have been able to contact any of our sources on board…I don’t suppose you’ve had any success?”
The way she said it was almost a challenge Tom noted. He made a mental note to talk to her later about the proper level of decorum to maintain when talking to him…but for now, he didn’t have the answer to her question would have preferred.
“None”. Gaius Baltar -to whom Porter was no doubt referring- was thus far not returning his calls. It was more then a little irritating to Zarek who had risked much to help out the erratic genius countless times after he had taken the Vice Presidency from him. He would be sure to remind the little man of how much he owed his benefactors the next time they met.
Still. He doubted the communications silence from Galactica was the Doctors idea, Adama and Roselyn were no doubt taking great pains to carefully control the first meeting with the apparently real members of the thirteenth tribe.
It was
exactly what he would have done if he was in their place. But he wasn’t in their place…that being the whole problem of course.
“Okay, okay okay” Tom sighed, leaning against his chair and rubbing his eyes slightly to clear his thoughts. “So we’re not going to be able to be there at this first meeting” he said, standing back up and starting to work through his logic as he paced towards the huge floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the massive tracts of artificial fields, in the process of being converted to farmland. “But, we’re the only ones talking right now” he continued, an idea slowly forming in his mind. Roslin and Adama were far to busy to pay any attention to the fleet he was sure, and that
did put him in an interesting position…
“Okay so we’re talking, but no-one is listening Tom” Marshall Bagot pointed out with a somewhat sarcastic tone. “Adama and Roslin are saying frack all to the questions being blasted at Galactica and no-one is stupid enough to try and talk to this Earth ship without
their permission. All we can do is stand around and look like we know what is going on”.
Zarek smiled slightly as Marshall’s eyes widened, as he realized what he had just said. “Exactly”.
“Tom! Can you tell us what the Earth ship-”
“Is there any news about how far away Earth-”
“When will the press be allowed access to the-”
“Do we have any news about losses from the Cylon attack-”
“Has the President given any indication if these people from Earth will take us in and help defend us from the Cylons?”
That final question delivered by one of the reporters in the front row, D’Anna Biers if Zerak remembered correctly, could not have been better timed for his purposes. Holding up his hands for calm as the remaining members of the Quorum spread out to his left and right, it echoed across the entire fleet population still listening in, starting to chip away at the jubilation and drain the excitement that had erupted with the revelation of the Prometheus’s identity.
It wasn’t going to stop people hoping of course, nor did Tom want them to…but a little doubt could be a useful thing…if properly directed.
“Please, please. First off, I would ask that we give a moment of silence to the God’s for this victory today, we could have jumped to our dooms in this system today” –and everyone of course knew who had been responsible for jumping them into the middle of a Cylon trap- “if not for a miracle. As was prophesied, we have found our long lost brothers and sisters of the thirteenth tribe. Right now, over on the Galactica” – re-emphasizing the Military taking control of the process and dictating policy, an issue still very fresh in the minds of people in the fleet- “the President and Commander are writing the future of our people-”
“But
will the people have a say in this future?” Biers once again broke in to the annoyance of the rest of the press (mostly because they hadn’t thought to ask that question first), almost causing a smile to flicker across Tom’s face.
Instead, Sarah walked forward and edged in front of Tom, closer to the forest of microphones. The somewhat militant representative of Gemenon was the perfect spokesmen to answer this question in Tom’s mind. Everyone knew she was an ultra conservative who had been one of the strongest supporters of Roslin and her religious crusade.
Of course, Tom knew that like most religious conservatives, anything that threatened the status quo enough would almost automatically cause her to go on the warpath.
“As the elected representatives of the fleet” – a not too subtle dig at the fact that Roslin hadn’t been elected, simply appointed by a doomsday program – “we will be leaving shortly for the Galactica. As you have said, the people must have their say in this ” – neatly appointing the Quorum opposed to the President as the guardians of the peoples interests – “but as we don’t know how long we have until the Cylons return” – and nothing like a little imminent threat to make people act rashly– “we must cross over to Galactica as quickly as possible. Thank you and may the God’s watch over you all”.
Battlestar Galactica
633 Light years from Caprica.
Cylon Genocide + 203 days.
A never ending stream of curses and insults directed at the crew on the hanger deck, the Galactica’s distant Combat Information Centre and the Lords of Kobol poured from the mouth of Colonel Saul Tigh, vowing retribution and asskickings across the board if everything wasn’t ready for the arrival of the Earth ship in the next ten seconds.
Tigh didn’t simply understand the adage that ‘if the crew likes the XO, he’s not doing his job’.
He
lived it.
Colonel William Adama on the other hand stood in the middle of the maelstrom like a rock in a stormy sea, his calm expression belaying the racing thoughts inside him as he regarded the flight deck elevator at the end of the maintenance bay.
“Well they’re almost here” Roslin commented from next to him as the personnel slowly started to fall into place in the parade, ‘encouraged’ to do so as quickly as possible by the good Colonel. “I’m still finding it hard to believe that we’re actually about to come face to face with people from Earth”.
“That’s assuming they
are people from Earth” Adama replied, nodding to the Marine fire team who were falling into position next to where Colonel Tigh would return to.
“You seriously can’t believe they’re Cylons?” Roslin asked, directing her gaze away from the activity around her and at him for the first time. “Not after what they’ve done today, what they did to that Cylon fleet?”
Adama shook his head as a phone on the pillar next to him -the one Tigh had set up as a hotline to the CIC- started buzzing.
“No I don’t. But I don’t necessarily trust them implicitly either”.
“You can’t be serious” Gaius Baltar put in, clearly put out that
everyone was ignoring him. “After what they did for us you would still refuse to trust them?”
“It’s because of what they did to the Cylons that I want to move so carefully” Adama corrected him as he pulled the phone from its cradle.
“You can’t possibly suspect-”
“Actually I don’t Doctor” Adama interrupted him. “But with the level of firepower they’ve been throwing around, a degree of caution is advisable” he stated bluntly, before pushing the transmission button on the phone and lifting it to his head. “Adama, SITREP”
“This is Kelly” Galactica’s third in command responded immediately. “The transport from Prometheus has just landed upstairs on the elevator. It’s a tight fit but LSO is confident she’ll be fine to go straight down”.
“Good, stand by” Adama ordered, placing his hand over the microphone as he searched for his XO, finally spotting him a short distance away harassing a group of deckhands who were not clearing a final set of crates fast enough for him.
“Colonel?”
Tigh looked up and backed away towards his CO, leaving a withering glare for the deckhands who moved even faster to get their job finished, knowing full well what would happen if he came back and they weren’t finished…
“We’ve got three Marine fire teams on overwatch, one in here with us” Tigh started without preamble. “The deck is clear and Tyrol is just finishing rigging airlocks on three of the Viper tubes. You give the word he’ll override the inner and outer doors and vent the entire deck to space…just in case”.
“Good work, I’m going to bring them down now, get everyone in place”.
“Good as done” Tigh nodded, spinning back to face the crew. “ALRIGHT, they’re coming down, lets move it into formation, yes that means YOU! TODAY people, Cally, stop Frakking around with that and get in line, thank YOU!”
“Are you sure we had to bring him along?” Roslin muttered, buttoning her jacket back up and steadying herself for the diplomatic encounter of a lifetime.
Adama managed to kill the smile trying to work its way onto his face at that comment, lifting the phone once again as the last stragglers jumped into position.
“Kelly, send them down”.
“Roger that…and…wait one Sir” Kelly hesitated suddenly, sounding both irritated and exasperated, “Starbuck just called in, the Quorum of Twelve just signaled they are on approach with a group of the press”.
The Captain may as well have said ‘Cylon assault force’ for all the loathing in his voice in regards to the newscasters presence on the incoming ship.
“Starbuck wants to know if she should chase them back to Cloud Nine?”
Adama shut his eyes and eased his fingers under his glasses, trying to rub away some of the aches that had settled in over the last hour, marshaling his patience and forcing away the irritation.
“No, let them land, then escort them all somewhere and hold them. We’ll deal with them later, but don’t let them anywhere near the starboard hanger” a sudden wave of nervous energy passed through the crowd, Adama looked up to see the top of the flight elevator finally lowering into the bay with the Earth ship. “If they complain too much, toss them in the Brig. Adama out”.
Puddle Jumper Snake Null.
Docked.
Battlestar Galactica
633 Light years from Caprica.
Cylon Genocide + 203 days.
“Now that’s a welcoming party”
“That’s a welcoming party they’re all armed to the teeth, or, that’s a welcoming party…because…it’s a welcoming party?”
“Ah. The infamous SG-1 wit. I’m going to have to work on getting up to speed on that”.
Doctor Daniel Jackson suppressed a grin as he carefully placed the Ancient (or Alterian depending on your point of view) book back into the protected compartment in the rear of the Puddle Jumper. Given that the book was the single record of the Pegasus Ancients history between their return from Atlantis and eventual ascension, the book should have been back on Earth in his office at the SGC, with every page being run through a scanner.
Unfortunately it was specifically because the book WAS the only record of events -including this alternate universe- of the Ancients that Daniel was keeping it on hand. He was easily Earths pre-eminent expert on the Ancients (hell he had even hung around with them on the higher plains a few times) but he knew the wider society of Earths anthropologists to whom he belonged to would crucify him when the Stargate program went public, if he let anything happen to the priceless history text.
So it was perhaps with exaggerated care he placed the book into its storage compartment and made a mental note that when he got back to the Prometheus, he would use the digital scanner in the ships tiny office to get a permanent record of all of the pages.
Just in case.
“So” Daniel started as he stood up. “First time in a first contact”.
“Yeah so how’s it going so far? Average?”
“Hmm…more or less” Daniel decided. “The welcoming party is a good sign”.
“It is?” Mitchell asked with a raised eyebrow, pulling his sidearm out of its thigh holster to double check the weapons safety was on and the weapon was uncocked, before slotting it back in place.
“Well unless they’re all armed to the teeth” Daniel clarified, standing and taking hold of the earpiece dangling from his radio on a plastic strap. While he preferred the boom/microphone systems used in Earths growing fleet of starships (as well as on Atlantis and at the SGC for that matter), the older style earpiece was a much more rugged field design, with the power and range to transmit over dozens of kilometers of distance.
Of course, if Sam had done her work, it wouldn’t have to transmit anything like that far. Twisting the transmit sensitivity to its lowest level; he flicked on the power.
“Testing one two-”
“We read you five by Doctor Jackson” Marks commented back from the distant Prometheus almost immediately. A subspace link between the Jumpers communications system and that on the Prometheus had been set up by Carter, on the theory that a subspace signal between the two ships would be impossible to intercept by the ships around Galactica. According to Marks (who was continuing to monitor communications intercepts), the entire fleet was understandably going increasingly wild with the news that Prometheus was from Earth and had just delivered a smack down on an all out Cylon attack fleet, apparently with minimal effort.
The lack of any official position on the battle and sudden first contact from the Colonial Government was starting the rumor mill flying…and with close to fifty thousand people who had little to do but wait…
Daniel knew they had to get control of the situation as quickly (but carefully) as possible. In the absence of any new information, if the press in this fleet was anything like that back on Earth, speculation would rapidly be perceived as fact. Already according to Marks, it looked like different parts of the Colonial Government were jockeying for position, so they needed to get this over with as quickly as possible.
“Okay it looks like we’ve stopped” Mitchell stated, pushing himself off the cockpit bulkhead as the jumper came to a halt.
“Ready?” Daniel asked as he also stood, double checking his shoelaces were tied. He ruefully recalled one incident six years ago when running late, he had run into the gate room and up the gate to join the rest of SG1, then immediately tripped over when he had reached the distant planet.
The impression he had made on the locals hadn’t
quite been one of awe.
“As I’ll ever be” Mitchell replied, not quite hiding either his enthusiasm or nerves over the situation they were about to walk into, but clearly impatient none the less.
“Alright” Daniel exhaled, slapping a control next to the rear bulkhead.
With a whine, the bulkhead unlocked and started to lower.
National Military Command Centre
The Pentagon.
Washington DC
Earth, Milky Way.
January 11, 2005
Major General Jack O’Neill’s footsteps echoed loudly through the deserted corridors of the Pentagon as he made his way up staircases, through passageways and down hallways all but devoid of human life.
That wasn’t do say it was COMPLETELY deserted. The constant checkpoints he had to swipe his card through were guarded by no nonsense Marines whose side arms were no doubt loaded, but for the most part, Jack found himself alone with his thoughts.
Daniel, Sam and Cameron Mitchell were off having what no doubt was yet another crazy adventure that had eventually led to an all out brawl of a space battle according to Pendergast’s contact report, followed by meeting an apparently advanced group of humans and killer robots of doom.
He on the other hand was heading in for a ‘chat’ with the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Presidents National Security Advisor…
He made a mental note to find some way to irritate Daniel in exchange. The Atlantis expedition’s recovery of several ZPMs, one of which was now installed at Stargate command had unfortunately negated his primary threat of not letting him go to Atlantis, he’d have to work on some other revenge over the next few days.
At the least it would give him something to think about in his office that didn’t require ten different forms and three different meetings with various contractors…
“Jack” General Francis Maynard called in greeting as he passed the final checkpoint into the large command centre, waving him over to a conference room off the main floor. Jack had always liked the man who had worked his way up from a buck private to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs on nothing more then hard work and raw talent. He had a no-nonsense approach to the military that had served him through two different administrations and a ferocious loyalty to those under him in the chain of command. Jack knew from General Hammond that the man hadn’t even hesitated in butting heads with newly elected Vice President Kinsley in defense of SG1 and the SGC, regardless of what making an enemy of Kinsley would do for his carrier.
For that alone, Jack would have respected him without question. It took big brass ones to go head to head with someone like Kinsley, even with the support of the rest of the Chiefs of staff.
He also, for reasons unknown to Jack, held him as something of an equal at these meetings, despite outranking him by a good two stars and several years in service. Jack could only guess it was because of his frontline experience at Stargate command, but whatever the reason, it sure did make it easier to speak his mind.
“Sorry to call you back in Jack” Maynard said with a wave at a spare seat in the room that had once served to reveal the Stargate program to the other permanent members of the UN Security Council. “But everything is moving so fast we have to start playing catch-up tonight”.
“Of course Sir” Jack replied, taking a cup of coffee from a navy steward and easing into his seat next to the Chief of Naval Operations. “The hours may be lousy…but it’s much quieter”.
A polite chuckle worked its way around the room as Maynard nodded to the two Marines guarding the door, who retreated and sealed the conference room. Picking up a remote off the table with his place opposite the large video screen, he pointed and clicked, causing the unsmiling face of the National Security Advisor, Doctor Helen Turner to materialize.
“Gentlemen” she said as Maynard took “The President is still somewhere over Europe, Air Force One isn’t due back in Washington until zero five thirty tomorrow. So when he gets home, what exactly am I going to tell him his military has been up to?”
Collectively, the Generals in the room cringed. This wasn’t going to be pleasant.
Deep under the Pentagon was a fiber optical network hub that connected the command centre to other buildings in Washington that may well have had reason to be at times connected to the massive C4I network that linked the US military together. A series of routers sat like electronic traffic cops in their aluminum racks, taking packets from one location and sending them off to another with a high degree of efficiency.
What could not be seen however was the handful of extra lines of code that had been inserted into their firmware by a senior technician contracted to upgrade the Pentagons communications infrastructure over the last couple of years.
That he was now living like a minor King on an island in the South Pacific, with a woman he had dumped his wife for, was something the Department of Defense didn’t really care about, though in hindsight they would wish they had.
The lines of code carefully sniffed the packets destination address and decided it fell within its TRUE conditions, copying it and sending it off to another router in the rack before sending the original package on, a process taking perhaps a millisecond.
The copied packet was bounced around a series of networks until finally it ended up (with countless other copied packets) in a senior executives office in downtown LA. Two figures, one a strikingly women and one a roguish looking man carefully fingering his beard watched with interest as the Generals squirmed under the interrogation of the Presidents right hand women for a quarter of an hour before the link was severed.
“Well this wasn’t expected” the Women stated blandly, turning to look around the half finished office at the man next to her. “This may distract our friends under NORAD for long enough to accelerate to the next phase of operations”.
“True” the man thoughtfully replied, glancing around at the half finished office and trying to hide his smile. On Earth for less then a day and already the risk was starting to pay off. “How many assets do we have remaining at Area 51 we can move into position on that Space station?”
“Unfortunately agent Barret has been most persistent in his purges of people loyal to the Trust” the women frowned in annoyance. “They have a saying here on Earth. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. The incident with Osiris’s ship was the last straw for the humans, they were quite thorough in going through Groom Lake and removing those assets the trust had in deep cover”.
“Pity. But there are other possibilities. These Cylons interest me”.
“I could order some of our-”
“No, I don’t think so. I will look into this…myself. After all” Ba’al smiled, “if you can’t trust yourself…who can you trust?”
Battlestar Galactica
633 Light years from Caprica.
Cylon Genocide + 203 days.
“Alright, here we go” Tigh muttered as the strange looking ship (or more accurately the travel pallet from the elevator carrying the ship) came to a halt in front of the four humans comprising the welcoming party for the Earth delegation.
Well four humans and one Angel from God.
“Have you ever seen the future Gaius?” Six asked softly into his ear. Standing on his left at the end of the formation of himself, Roslin, Adama and Tigh, Six’s eyes hungrily tracked the ship as it slowly came to a halt, her expression one of near reverence as if the moment was all but sacred to her.
While he was hardly inclined to think of this moment as a religious experience, her question did annoy him. Mostly because it awakened that mocking voice in the back of his mind once again.
There was one time you saw the future Gaius, shortly before a nuclear device exploded outside your house. Unlike billions of other people, YOU saw it coming but of course it was too late then for them, no?
Ruthlessly, he pushed the voice back into the rear of his mind. He didn’t have time for stupid thoughts on events he had little to do with, nor could have stopped if he wished to.
“Oh that’s not quite what I meant” Six replied with a smile, leveraging off him and walking towards the Earth ship, her gorgeous legs ruffling through her red dress as she approached the burnished bronze hull of the spaceship.
“Keep away from that!” Gaius blurted out as she lightly ran her fingers down the elegant groves along its flanks, flashing a wicked grin at his sudden outburst.
“I hadn’t actually planed to move any closer Doctor” the President replied from next to him with a look that combined confusion and irritation splendidly well. Her eyes however were clearly asking if he needed to withdraw from the welcoming line before he completely destroyed this ever so delicate moment.
But if he had learned anything since the day he had come aboard Galactica, it was how to jump back from sudden surprise ‘visitations’ in the middle of conversations.
“I’m sorry Madam President, just thinking out loud. I…well, I think in this kind of a situation we should follow the lead of our guests rather then the other way around. We really don’t want to intimidate them…given what we’ve seen them do today”.
“A fair enough point” she agreed, though her piercing eyes suggested she wasn’t quite sure of his explanation but going with it anyway as she turned towards the pair of fully armed Marines next to Tigh…thus missing seeing her Vice President whispering towards at the hull of the Earth ship with an alarmed expression
“Commander?” Roslin asked Galactica’s CO as she shifted her focus towards the soldiers next to Colonel Tigh.
Adama frowned.
“Madam President they have to be here, that isn’t negotiable”
“Oh I agree Bill, but do they have to hold their weapons like that?”
Turning his head with a little confusion showing on his face, Adama glanced at Sergeant Hadrian, the ships Master at Arms, who was holding her battle rifle at port arms with her finger only millimeters away from the trigger.
Following her lead, so was the second Marine beside her.
And the two behind them.
In fact the entire company of armed troops were clearly on a razors edge. And while Adama appreciated their vigilance, he admitted the President had a point.
“At ease” he ordered the quartet. Somewhat grudgingly, the quartet let their rifles muzzles fall to face the deck and their hands move back away from the triggers. It was clear the Sergeant didn’t like the idea, but she wasn’t exactly going to dispute the order.
She had learned the hard way about locking horns with Galactica’s master.
Adama turned his gaze back on the Earth ship. There was something almost hypnotic about its bronzed surface with the groves and trenches running down its flanks. They almost perfectly hid the tiny cresses that marked where the engine nacelles he knew the craft possessed had retracted into the hull.
In fact, as he studied the ship, he started to realize there was absolutely no external protrusion of any kind present on its hull. If it wasn’t for the fact that he knew this ship (or one essentially identical to it) had blown a Cylon Basestar into an expanding navigation hazard, he would have been inclined to call it an unarmed civilian transport.
He had never found something military that looked so…harmless…to his mind anyway.
In fact the stately elegant design of the ship when combined with the terrifying power he KNEW it wielded started to suggest that Earth had advanced quite a bit technologically beyond the vast majority of humanity who they had left behind. Yet again his mind drifted as he recalled the legends, myths and stories surrounding Earth and the thirteenth tribe of Man (a topic into which he had done significant research after the Cylon Genocide), but still nothing new came to mind. How a splinter of humanity had advanced so rapidly beyond current colonial technology was a disturbing question…one he intended to ask as soon as diplomacy allowed.
A sudden click and a whir made his heart jump - though he managed to keep his expression calm - and before his eyes, the rear of the ship unlocked and steadily started to fold down. He realized in surprise that what he had taken to be the aft bulkhead of the ship was lowering…to form a ramp.
Which meant the interior of the ship was almost entirely hollow, rather then crammed full of technology as he had expected.
He exchanged a glance with Tigh, whose expression clearly suggested he was thinking along the same lines.
Way more advanced then they were.
The ramp lowered until it made contact with the deck with a dull thud and everything went silent, except for the noise of Roslin taking a deep breath next to him.
And with only a slight pause for dramatic effect (or perhaps to take their own deep breaths), two human men descended the ramp, striding slowly but confidently as they moved out onto the hanger bay.
Dear Lord please don't let me fuck up were the worlds that came to Cameron Mitchell’s mind as he stepped onto the deck of the Battlestar Galactica. Alan Shepard’s infamous prayer before being blasted into orbit on the first US manned spaceflight was strangely appropriate he thought, for his first ever off world contact mission with Stargate Command.
Daniel Jackson on the other hand moved with a practiced ease that Cameron envied, one he knew only came from close to a decade of off world experience with countless cultures on countless planets. Despite the fact that he was getting close to putting SG1 back together, a part of him irrationally resented them their legendary adventures that he could never participate in. When Earth had been a brand new player on the Galactic stage, SG1 had fought God’s and grappled with legends on a weekly basis.
Still, he thought as he turned away from the Jumper and towards the line of waiting people,
even SG1 has never been in a situation quite
as strange as this he thought to himself.
As the jumper ramp obediently started to raise itself to the surprise of several of the people in the crowd, his eyes scanned over the ranks of personnel standing before him and quickly locked in on the row to his right. Two men, the taller of whom
screamed ‘brass’ stood to his left, a man and the women he presumed were civilians to his right…and standing out like an airbase landing beacon, a fire team of troops (refreshingly carrying rather conventional looking firearms) watching him and Daniel like hawks.
But their guns were pointed at the floor, which he took as a plus.
Stepping to his right and coming to a halt in front of the central officer, he decided this could only be Commander Adama. A theory confirmed when the man carefully took a half step forward to close the gap with Daniel and himself. The man wore the uniform well, but it was the air he carried himself with that gave him away; a proud bearing that demanded attention and commanded respect.
“On behalf of the crew of the Galactica” he said, “welcome aboard. I am William Adama, commanding officer and commander of the Colonial fleet”.
“Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, Stargate Command” Cameron replied, instinctively echoing the military formality Adama had opened with. “Currently assigned to the Battle Cruiser Prometheus”. Remembering the archeologist standing next to him, Cameron turned and gestured slightly. “And may I present Doctor Daniel Jackson, also currently assigned to the Prometheus” he said carefully the natural sounding code phrase letting those back on the Prometheus now that the initial contact was positive and they could take his finger off the emergency recall button.
Adama took Daniels offered hand in a firm grip, and then strangely twisted his wrist to hold the hands one above the other, shook hands, and then let go. Cameron made a mental note of the gesture, even as he admired how smoothly Daniels hand moved with it without the slightest hint of hesitation, his long years of experience with strange cultures standing him in good stead.
“Doctor, a pleasure” Adama said as he let go of Daniels hand, his eyes flicking back to Mitchell. “And a pleasure to meet you as well Colonel” he continued, extending his hand which Mitchell took, noting the firm and unwavering grip of the impressive man, before he let go and stepped back slightly, turning to his left.
“My executive officer, Colonel Saul Tigh” Adama continued, gesturing the balding man standing next to him with the glower of deep suspicion forward.
“Colonel” Mitchell said politely, extending his hand. Tigh hesitated for a half second, then took the hand as if not entirely sure it wouldn’t bite.
For some reason, he reminded him of General O’Neill…
“Colonel” Tigh responded, shaking briefly then letting go and turning to Daniel. “And Doctor Jackson…medical Doctor?”
“Uh no” Daniel said as he extended his hand to Tigh, which the Colonel took with what appeared to be slightly less suspicion on his face then when he had exited the jumper. “It’s an academic title, well titles actually” he amended as he let go of the Colonels hand.
“Really? Might one ask what your area of expertise is?” the third man in the line suddenly broke in, stepping forward slightly, to better close the distance with the rest of the group, ignoring a look from Adama as he closed in.
“This is Doctor Gaius Baltar, Vice President of the Twelve Colonies” Adama explained the faintly annoyed expression on his face vanishing quickly as the Commander controlled his irritation.
Tigh’s expression of discontent however increased tenfold and he quickly switched targets from the newcomers to the Doctor, pumping enough energy through his gaze, in Mitchells opinion, to blow a hole through Galacticas flight pod.
However either Baltar didn’t see the look or he ignored it, taking a step even closer as he edged in front of the women in the line next to Adama.
“Actually I’m qualified in both archeology and anthropology” Daniel responded cautiously as he read the sudden tension, deciding to answer the question as quickly as possible and get off the tangent.
A slightly condescending look flashed for a heartbeat across Baltar’s face before it vanished behind a mask of polite smugness. The interesting thing about being an anthropologist was that you learned all about body language. Baltar’s said that he suddenly found Daniel far less impressive then his opinion of himself.
This man would be trouble Daniel thought to himself.
“Be careful Gaius” Six suddenly commented, stepping out from behind Jackson with a curious smile on her face as she lightly ran her fingers across the mans shoulders, studying him intently . “Don’t let your ego get in the way of God’s work…this man is the key to the salvation of our child”. Turning to stare at Gaius, her expression melted suddenly into a chillingly direct look that almost made Gaius take an involuntary step backwards. “He has a strength that you can only dream of, has seen things you could never imagine and has been places you will never experience”. Stepping even closer towards him, again he had to resist the urge to step away.
“Pride is a mortal Sin Gaius, don’t let
yours turn you from the path you must walk”.
“Ah...well…that’s quite interesting I’m sure” Baltar responded to Daniel, suddenly sounding somewhat contrite to the archeologist, stepping backwards to his original place in line. “I’m sure we each have many questions for each other, as one academic to another, but that can wait for another forum I am sure. So, uh, Commander?”
“Thank you Doctor” Adama replied with just the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice, glaring the Doctor back into place before turning towards the woman waiting in line, who had quietly and patiently waited to be acknowledged. She looked tired and drawn to Daniel, but her eyes still shone with energy and alertness as she stepped forward to place herself next to Commander Adama.
As Laura Roslin eased forward towards the two men in the military fatigues, she directed considerable willpower to try and stay her trembling hands. It wasn’t the fact that the future of humanity might ride on what she did next that was disturbing her –not that it made it easier- but the side effects of the chamalla leaf extract she been taking in increasingly unsafe doses to remain lucid and focused. The sad fact was that as the cancer advanced through her body, the drug was becoming increasingly less effective in suppressing the cancers symptoms and starting a cycle of forcing her to increase the dosage on a daily basis. While such a high dosage taken over an extended period wasn’t exactly conductive to long term health, it amused her in a rather macabre way that there was now a race inside her body between the cancer and chamalla to claim final victory over her corpse.
Still she had prayed and prayed night after night until she fell unconscious with exhaustion She had pleaded with the Lords of Kobol to give her strength enough to see humanity safely out of the reach of the Cylons, no matter the personal costs to herself. She had taken risks, oh how had she taken risks! She had betrayed Adama, gone back on her word, put the very future of those she was trying to save in moral jeopardy…it was almost as if, indeed it could be nothing BUT divine intervention, that Adama had simply forgiven her for everything she had done to him. Together, they had found the road to Earth against all odds, which had unerringly led them to this system…where a ship from Earth had saved appeared from nowhere and delivered them from annihilation….
Just a little longer, she pleaded. I’m so close, just grant me the strength to get our people to safety, then I can rest.
Exhaling, she commanded her hands to be still and for a minor miracle, they obeyed as she raised her right hand.
“Doctor Jackson, Colonel Mitchell…” she said with a smile that hid her struggle to find words for the moment in history. “Words, I think, would be completely useless to express the gratitude we feel towards you and your people, for what you have done for us today”. Despite feeling a little silly at her flowery speech, she pushed ahead, not wanting to loose momentum. “We came to this system searching for the path to Earth…and against all odds and after so many centuries, the Gods have brought us back together. On behalf of the colonial fleet, I want to thank you…thankyou so very much. This day is nothing short of a miracle from the Lords of Kobol themselves”.
Alarm bells started to ring inside Daniels head at the almost reverent way the President thanked the group of Ancients who had once explored and lived in this universe. Long experience with SG1 and the unfortunate -if necessary- shattering of local beliefs in the Goa’uld had taught him the warning signs to look out for in terms of religious beliefs.
He rapidly decided the Hanger Bay wasn’t the best place to break the news about the reality of the ‘Lords of Kobol’. He remembered where a similar religious discussion on Bedrosia had led to…
Evidently Mitchell had come to the same conclusion.
“It was our pleasure Madam President to have been of help” Mitchell smiled, taking her hand briefly. “
But I think it’s safe to say we have a
lot to talk about…and a couple of thousand years of history to catch up on…” Hooking his thumb over his shoulder, he turned to Adama again. “Uh, our ship really isn’t that big…I don’t suppose there is somewhere we can-”
“We have a conference room that should be set up by now” the Commander assured him, glancing towards the pack of men and women behind the small group. “Chief, stand down”.
“At ease” Tyrol repeated the order, causing the enlisted personnel and sprinkling of officers to ease their stances…and Tyrol to carefully power down the remote transmitter in his pocket.
He really didn’t want to blow everyone out and airlock when everything was going well.
“If you’ll come with me Doctor, Colonel, we have a lot to talk about and not much time”.
Mitchell frowned.
“You’re expecting another attack?”
“Worse” Adama grimaced. “The Press”.
Cylon Resurection Ship.
660 Light years from Caprica.
Cylon Victory + 203 days.
“An accident.”
The statement from a Three at the head of the table echoed from the metal walls and decks of the room deep inside the resurrection ship, as if refusing to fade for all the derisive disbelief it contained. Under her gaze, a Six, an Eight and a Five fidgeted in an all too human way as if afraid to draw anymore attention to themselves then absolutely necessary.
The Three held her gaze on them for a few seconds before turning to her sister sitting next to her.
“This is not part of the scenario we anticipated”.
“The intervention could not have been anticipated” the Six across from her protested with the edge in her voice so common to her kind.
“And so the best solution was to ignore their opening message and open fire? Are you defective? Perhaps you need to be downloaded again!”
Six bristled at the implications of her statement, but was stayed from responding by the Eight next to her.
“This is pointless. The attack failed but the end result can fit with our scenario. The child is safe, indeed with less to fear from us thanks to these newcomers, the humans will be less inclined to harm her”.
“Or they may be inclined to band together, turn the fleet around, head back to reclaim their worlds!” Six snapped.
“Impossible” the Five interjected from next to her. “Their fleet is all but destroyed. Only Galactica, Pegasus and a few scattered irrelevant units remain. Their probability of success in even a marginal victory against one of our task groups is-”
“Radically increased thanks to that ship you decided to take on!” Three snapped. With a thought, the screen on the wall snapped on, with footage of the ship identified as Prometheus withstanding everything the Base Stars threw at it and gunning down Raider squadrons like so many irritants.
“Yet this proves conclusively the accuracy of our scenario” Six pointed out with a slightly smug expression, changing the image with a thought to a close up of the small ship that had been first discovered, its elegant lines and shape burned into the genetic memory of the Cylons from the source that had started them on their long campaign”.
“The ship proves nothing in of itself” the second Three replied in a somewhat more grudging tone. “It may prove we are on the right track, but it also would appear to prove that your stupidity in engaging this ship may have started a war we have little chance of winning”.
“You doubt the scenario?” Six asked in amazement. “Has not the destiny of humanity and the Cylons been written? Is it not coming true at every turn?”
“I do not” Three instantly replied, her temper up again. “But my concern is ensuring the Cylons remain to take their rightful place at the end of history by making sure YOU don’t destroy us all. Do not question my faith, I do not”.
“Then how can you know your own faith?” a new voice that some in the Colonial fleet might identify as from Brother Cavil interjected from the shadows, walking into the light and stopping conversation cold
“Without doubt, how can one have faith? Any person, be it us or the humans, can have faith in a vacuum. But without constant testing of it, without constant questioning of it which reaffirms it, blind faith is useless”. Staring at the silent room, he smiled slightly.
“We do not require blind faith. Only that you believe what you see and know to be true.”
Battlestar Galactica
633 Light years from Caprica.
Cylon Genocide + 203 days.
“I’m afraid we haven’t had much time to set up facilities for this visit” Roslin apologized as she led the party into Galactica’s conference room. “But it’s the best we could do on short notice”.
The room had been hastily reorganized from typical layout of a half square of tables facing a podium to a pair of straight lines that faced each other down the length of the room. Adama led his delegation to one side, Doctor Jackson and Colonel Mitchell walked to the other and sat down. It was in Adamas mind a distressingly informal layout for such a pivotal moment on history, but it would suffice.
On the other hand from this room the Quorum of Twelve (and the press team they had brought on HIS ship without so much as a ‘by your leave’) would have to cross six major bulkheads and a dozen marines to get here. In the end he decided the tradeoff was worth it.
“So” Doctor Jackson started when everyone had settled down in place and the pair of Marines in the room had closed the door. “Where do we begin?”
“Well personally I’d like to start with some information on these…Cylons you called them?” Mitchell asked as Daniel reached into a vest pocket and removed a notepad and pen, ignoring the tensing of the Marines by the door as he did so.
“You’ve never run into the Cylons before?” Roslin asked with a raised eyebrow, the expression on her face all business, but almost disbelieving.
“No, I’m afraid we haven’t. Though given how quickly they opened fire on us I can’t say they appear to be the friendly types”.
The quartet on the other side of the table shared a look at that statement.
“No, the Cylons are not particularly friendly to humans” Adama commented darkly. “It’s a long story, but suffice to say the Cylons were created by man” the Commander said, appearing to be groping for the best way to say something uncomfortable, before looking at nothing in front of him, looking back on the past.
“We used them as servants at first. Then, we turned them into a weapon to use against each other”.
“As you may have seen, they’ve proven to be highly skilled a killing humans” Tigh put in bitterly.
“But as always the problem with any intelligence designed to learn is that its growth eventually reaches a critical phase” Baltar joined the conversation. “At some point, some point that we still don’t understand today…the Cylons…woke up”.
“Woke up?”
“Yes Colonel, as in rebelled. They became aware…and decided they really didn’t like being used by humans to kill humans. In fact they decided they prefer a more…general direction of their ire”.
“That led to the first Cylon war” Roslin took up the story as she leaned forward. “It was the force that unified the twelve colonies into a true collective Government and ended with a treaty between us and the Cylons, at which point they left for deep space and we never heard from them again…until a year ago”.
“And I’m guessing this wasn’t a happy family reunion?” Mitchell inquired with a raised eyebrow, guessing from the intercepted transmissions from the Jumper and Prometheus what would come next in the story.
“Not exactly” Adama said with a humorous twitch of a smile.
“They launched an all out genocidal attack against the twelve Colonies” Tigh broke in, the rage his in his undiminished after hundreds of days on the run. “They had infiltrators working, probably for years, to undermine our defense systems, they had our entire computer system set up so perfectly that they shut down any military ships that went up to meet their surprise attack, and they started nuking cities back to the stone age”.
Mitchell’s mouth went dry listening to the story. He had read enough SG1 mission reports to know it was only by the skin of their teeth that the SGC had managed to avoid getting Earth blasted from space by the numerous bad guys that had been (and still were) hanging around the Galaxy.
But holding THAT kind of a grudge for forty years?
“Did anyone try to talk to them? Has there been any contact since the attacks” Daniel asked quietly into the heavy silence. Tigh just snorted, but Adama shot a look at him and he grudgingly got his expression under control.
“After the Cylons bombarded Picon, the former President offered an unconditional surrender” the current President said with the first twinge of bitterness in her voice, though she quickly got under control. “They never replied. We have however found several...infiltrators in the fleet over time and have gathered a degree of intelligence from them”.
“I’m sorry that’s something I’m not entirely sure of” Mitchell broke in, leaning forward. “How exactly do these Cylons infiltrate? I mean from what your telling me, big walking metal robots…I can’t see them blending in that well”.
“Oh believe me” Baltar muttered, almost to himself, “It was…quite a surprise to us as well”.
“The Cylons have built several infiltration models – five that we know of - that look and feel human in every detail” Roslin clarified. “They could have -and almost certainly did- infiltrate all levels of the Colonial Government and military with them”.
“You’ve met some of them I take it?” Daniel asked.
“The first was during the attacks, I met him on Ragnar station” Adama recalled, sketching them in on the events on the station. “After we started our trip away from the 12 Colonies, they started to pop up in the fleet, generally trying to turn us against each other or commit acts of sabotage”.
“One tried to accuse me of collaborating with them to infiltrate the Twelve Colonies” Baltar interrupted. “Tried to turn everyone against me with some doctored evidence in fact, almost had everyone about to execute me for that matter”.
“And the most recent model we found was that of one of our pilots, Lieutenant Sharon Valerii”.
The uncomfortable twitching of the Commander and Colonel suggested this was a sensitive subject and Daniel decided not to press. The Commander continued on, with interjections randomly from the people around him that sketched out the story of their flight from the Colonies, the finding of Kobol and the read to Earth.
At the end of it, there was silence for ten seconds as the two tried to take it all in. The kind of horrors these people had gone through and the drive to keep going was almost as awe inspiring as it was terrifying.
The moment was broken when the door in the bulkhead opened and an officer walked over to Adama, and then whispered in his ear. The Commander shut his eyes for a second then opened them as if in exasperation, then straightened up.
“You’ll have to excuse me. The press and the Quorum are getting somewhat impatient; I should talk with them before they do anything stupid”.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Roslin asked, her tone suggesting that it was the last thing she wanted to do.
“No, you should stay here, but thanks for the offer” Adama replied with a half smile. “But I should take the Vice President as the civilian representative”.
“Any objections Doctor?” she asked, directing her attention down the table to her subordinate.
“Well I really-”
“Giaus” Six said in exasperation, sitting on the edge of the table next to him and leading down to put her head centimeters from his. “You’ve heard everything you need to hear for now. You have an opportunity to talk to the entire fleet on a subject they desperately want to hear you on…and you don’t want to go?”
“-should be going” he finished, getting up so rapidly he knocked his chair over, then almost fell over in his attempt to pull it back up. “So I’ll uh….we’ll um be going then I guess. Oh I hope we get a chance to have a talk later today Doctor” he said, extended his hand which Daniel took. “Oh and nice to meet you Colonel” he said, finger off a salute with a smile as he looked around, appearing suddenly to want to be in motion more then anything in the world. “Well shall we go meet the press then Commander?” Without waiting for a reply, he all but jumped out the bulkhead, leaving the group inside staring at the now vacant door.
