Themightytom wrote:Actually I have a question, I know you have to have considered crossing nBSG with Buck Rogers, because you have his fighters in the fic, did you consider doing an nBuck Rogers, maybe without Implausible Buck himself, but with the Earth Defense Directorate? I feel like it would have been around the same amount of work as crossing with Aliens in the long run, without the Xenomorph elephant in the room.
I thought about doing just that, but the difference in style between the two is just SO wide. nBSG and the Aliens-verse share a common 'dark and gritty' feel to them that Buck Rogers in the 24th Century doesn't. Plus, my memory of BRit24thC isn't as good as I would want to start trying to integrate the two.
Themightytom wrote:i just gave myself the image of Bill Adama kicking Tweaky down a hallway,
Vianca wrote:The Earth Marine ship is still in orbit, it just doesn´t have a FTL drive.
Ummmm....yeah it does.
On another note, presumably once they re-board the Sulaco they will nuke the colony and the alien ship just to be safe so that when they DO go back to mine the Tylium, they don't get some unwelcome lovin'
No need to drop a nuke on the site, since the atmospheric processor is going to go boom all on its own due to battle damage.
As for the Sulaco, the Colonials need to be very careful, since it does belong to a foreign power. Take it, and you risk angering the Earth government and/or military, not to mention the survivors you just rescued. But then again, those same survivors don't have the manpower to run the ship at optimal combat levels, I would guess. Not that the Sulaco is a true warship... More like an armored transport with nukes. I'm sure the military has dedicated warships of some sort, with truly formidable armor and weaponry. We are a rather warlike species, after all. A fact I don't think the Cylons truly appreciate, yet.
“This entire surrender concept is nonsense,” One muttered as he observed the prisoner exchange on the sensors. “It makes it sound as though they defeated us!”
“John,” Caprica said with a sigh. “We were beaten—defeated. That is why we are running. And we need them.”
“The Guardians defeated us, not these humans!” One snarled. “But no, we cannot surrender to Zoe because she wants to literally skin each and every one of us—so instead, we are surrendering to the Colonies whose ass we kicked! They were beaten . . . and now, they get to gloat!”
Boomer snorted, and One couldn’t help himself—he winced at the look on her scarred and disfigured face. “They were never beaten, John,” she said. “They ran, but they were never defeated—they never quit fighting, they never laid down their arms, they would have resisted us until the bitterest of ends. Whereas we? Right now, we don’t even want to engage the Guardians—they find us and we jump. We dare not fight them, because we are no longer immortal—and that scares us. It scares you.”
One felt a cold chill and he opened his mouth, but D’Anna nodded. She was still weak and pale, but her wound had improved to the point where she could join her brothers and sisters. “She’s right, John. Look around you—we have three Basestars remaining; just three out of the entire force that we built to fight the Colonies. Three. And those freighters, along with a single Resurrection Ship and ONE escort. That is all that is left of our people, John.”
“We cannot build new Raiders, we cannot build new Centurions, we have no facilities for cloning new bodies—once the stores on the Resurrection Ship have been expended, we will have no more lives forever. Unless Daniel was speaking the truth—unless the Hidden Five know the secrets of how he built the clone-tanks to begin with. We are unable to procreate, despite it being a commandment of ‘God’,” she said bitterly, “only one of us has managed to conceive and bear a child. Just one. And she left us. And despite the fighting we engaged in with the Guardians, despite all that our Brother of your Line did at Cylon Prime, Zoe still has more than two dozen Basestars of her own—and manufacturing complexes we have yet to ferret out. What does your cost/benefit analysis tell you of that, John?”
The command deck of the Basestar grew quiet until Caprica spoke. “We have no choice. They will not surrender to us—therefore, we must surrender to them. If we are to survive, there is no other choice.”
One-by-one, the different models nodded their agreement, until only One was left.
“Fine!” he snapped. “I still think they are going to get the POWs back, glean what intelligence we have available on the Guardians, and then kill us. But what do I know?”
Last edited by masterarminas on 2013-02-01 03:53pm, edited 2 times in total.
Vianca wrote:The Earth Marine ship is still in orbit, it just doesn´t have a FTL drive.
Can they get one from somewere?
If they can salvage or build a new one, they could then ad the Earth ship to the fleet.
.
It has ftl after all it got from earth to a system 39 light years away. And as the one said 17 days to expect rescue.
True on that, but it´s more a realspace FTL that can be quite long in travel time, afteral, why else use cryo-tubes?
No, I was actualy meaning if she had a FTL that could keep-up with nBSG it´s FTL-drives.
Sorry that I didn´t make that more clear.
Bill pursed his lips as the hatches of the Raptors slowly cracked open and the former Cylon prisoners staggered down the wings to where the waiting pilots and deck hands helped them to the deck. Most bore a haunted look on their face—a few were injured. And all of them seemed in a state of shock.
He swallowed as one of the men spoke with Chief Galen and Galen looked at the Admiral; the deck chief called up an escort and the man walked across the deck to Adama—his uniform bore the insignia of a Colonel. He was thin—to thin—and he was missing his left arm.
“Colonel Elias Thorean, executive officer, Battlestar Solaria, reporting, Admiral,” he said with a salute.
“Colonel,” Adama rumbled. “You weren’t on Solaria during the attack?”
“I was on leave—spending vacation time in the Ionian Islands,” he shook his head. “Unlike the mainland, there wasn’t room to hide in the wilderness—the Cylons captured us ten days after the attack.” He swallowed and Bill waited.
“We were taken to a holding facility—I was the senior officer present, Sir. Sir, I-I . . .,” he paused and Adama waited. “We weren’t overly abused, Admiral. A few beatings here and harsh questioning there, but by the second month, they just let us be. Wouldn’t let us go—kept trying to talk to us about the One True God, well, talk to the men at least.”
“They segregated us from the women,” and he sighed. “They suffered worse than we did, I found out when they loaded us up on that cargo ship,” he said quietly. “We joined a few other survivors, from other Colonies—civilian and fleet alike. I think we were going to the Cylon Homeworlds. But then, things changed. They started telling us we were going to be released—we didn’t believe them. They had tricked us before, Admiral. Not until today—this is real, isn’t it?” he asked in a voice that said he was still struggling to cope with the sudden reversal of fortune.
“It is. Your arm?” asked Adama.
Elias shrugged. “Month three, I tried to lead a breakout from the camp where we were being held—I thought that maybe their guard was down. I was wrong. Eleven men were killed—I and sixteen others wounded. It took the Cylons four days to ship a doctor over from the mainland. And by then,” he grimaced. “By then, the tissue had gone septic. Only thing he could do was cut it off . . .,” and his voice trailed off.
Adama swallowed again. “Is there a Lieutenant Novachek with you?”
“Bulldog?” Elias asked and he nodded. “He was put in with us just days ago—the Cylons kept him separate and alone. He’s been a prisoner for seven years, Admiral. He is . . .,” Elias closed his eyes, “he’s suffered more than the rest of us.”
Adama turned to two sick-berth attendants. “See to the Colonel’s needs,” he ordered roughly. “And get him a meal.”
“Thank you, Sir. Sir?” he asked and Bill’s heart broke at the plaintive tone in his voice.
“Yes, Colonel Thorean?”
“It would be good to have something to do—to work on. I know that you don’t need a crippled Colonel, but my people need to occupy their thoughts, Sir. They need work—and they are good officer and crewmen, Sir.”
“Colonel,” Adama growled with another swallow of a lump in his throat. “I won’t be throwing away an experienced officer just because he has lost an arm. You won’t get out of work that easily, not on Galactica. Now let these men make certain of your health—and eat, and get some rest. Then we will talk about putting you to work.”
Elias nodded and he saluted—a salute that the Admiral returned in full. And then he was led away by the SBAs.
And that was when Adama saw the man he had been waiting for—the man he had dreaded seeing. Adama walked forward to where Daniel Novachek sat on the wing of a Raptor, shaking with cold and clutching a blanket around himself. He was ill—feverish—and Doctor Cottle was inserting an IV needle into one arm.
“What do you hear, Bulldog?” Adama asked, and the man’s head snapped up—his eyes locking onto the Admiral. “Commander? Commander Adama—Admiral Adama,” he hissed as his eyes settled on the collar insignia. “You left me for seven years in a stinking Cylon prison, and they promoted you for it?” he asked, his voice bitter.
“I called for help, and you never came—you left me behind, Admiral. You left me there to die—but I didn’t die. I was their prisoner for seven years, Bill Adama. SEVEN YEARS!” he bellowed.
Adama just stood there and he turned to the Doctor. “Take care of him, Doctor—we will talk later, once you calm down, Bulldog.”
“DON’T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME!” Novachek yelled; he leapt to his feet and grabbed Adama’s shoulder, spinning the Admiral around—and his right hook caught the Admiral on the jaw. “DON’T YOUR EVER WALK AWAY FROM ME!”
“NO!” Adama shouted at the Marines who were rushing over, and Bulldog collapsed back down unto the wing of the Raptor—shaking life a leaf. Cottle glared at him, “Tear out a vein that I am poking around and you are going to the morgue, flyboy!” he barked. And he injected the pilot with a syringe.
“Don’t you leave me behind again, Bill,” Bulldog repeated as his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed.
“Get him to the surgery!” Cottle ordered. “I gave him some hefty sedatives, Admiral—you all right down there?” he asked and held out his hand.
Adama took it and climbed to his feet. “Take care of them, Sherman,” he growled, and stalked off of the hanger deck.
“It was an absolute god-damn miracle,” Hicks said through Bishop’s translation, “that your ship was in place to pick up our distress call. “Although I cannot say that recognize your ships or uniforms—are you with the Federal European Union?” He couldn’t say that their reception had been anything but friendly, even though the medical equipment for the scans that Ripley had insisted each of them received was rather . . . obsolete. And his hand itched since they had confiscated all weapons and had armed guards present—but this didn’t feel like a hostage situation to the Colonial Marine.
Samantha Caldwell frowned at the translation. “We are from the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, Corporal Hicks—where are you from?”
The survivors from Acheron looked at each other and then Ellen Ripley leaned forward. “There are roughly seventy established colonies—the great majority of them mining outposts . . . I have never heard of an alliance of Colonies nor of Kobol.”
“Where are you from?” asked Samantha again—and this time, everyone heard the building excitement in her voice. And they could her senior officers frown at the non-answers.
Gorman began to speak, but then Carter J. Burke smiled and placed both his hands on the table. “These Marines are members of the United America Alliance; they were dispatched to Acheron to assist Weyland-Yutani Corporation in reestablishing contact. We had heard—rumors,” he said glancing at Ripley, “that the settlement on Acheron was in grave danger and then we lost contact. Now, as an executive of Weyland-Yutani, I am hap-. . .,”
“I want an answer—where are you from?” Samantha repeated herself.
“Earth,” said Ripley. “We left Gateway Station in Earth orbit fifty-seven days ago.”
Major Caldwell sat back in her chair, and the Terran Marines—along with Bishop, Burke, and Ripley—could see the sudden exhilaration in her eyes.
“The Thirteenth Tribe—we’ve found the Thirteenth Tribe,” Caldwell said and Bishop dutifully translated her words. And joy broke out on the faces of those sitting on her side of the table.
“Maybe I’m missing something here,” Burke said. “What are you talking about?”
“Let me tell you a long story,” Samantha said with a smile. “In the beginning . . .”
“Okay,” Hicks said an hour later after they had been left alone. “This translation stuff is not working—Bishop, have we still got those flash-memory units on the Sulaco?”
Gorman and Burke smiled—while Hudson and Vasquez winced. Ripley just looked confused.
“Oh. They were developed while you were . . . indisposed,” Burke said. “It is a learning tool that allows you to implant knowledge in a person’s mind. “It was going to revolutionize instruction . . . until we found out the side-effects,” he shrugged.
“Side-effects?” asked Ripley.
“Yeah,” answered Hicks. “If you use the damn thing too much, it causes irreversible brain damage. But in moderation, it allows a Marine to implant something he needs to know—like a language. They quit making them, but the Corps never recalled them—they just quit using them routinely.”
He paused. “Do we have any?”
“Twenty should be in storage—and we do have a Greek language upload available; however, the dialects differ, but it will make communication simpler.” And Bishop looked, uncomfortable. “They appear very . . . phobic about artificial life. I am having . . . difficulties understanding how these ‘Cylons’ could have done what they are claiming.”
“I’m not,” said Ripley, remembering Ash from the Nostromo. “I think it is best that we not mention you are a syn- . . . an artificial person, Bishop.”
“Well, they are already wondering why Bishop didn’t get a full scan like the rest of us,” said Hudson. “I don’t think that they bought the ‘he was never alone’ story.”
“You are all missing the point,” said Burke. “We’ve got an incredible opportunity here. We are the ones who have discovered these people, after all.”
“Actually they found us,” said Bishop.
Burke frowned. “Beside the point. Look, their technology is backward in a lot of ways, sure. But this instantaneous FTL tech, what they call jumping? This is the motherlode—if we play this right, we can come out of this richer than any of you ever dreamed.”
“We are Colonial Marines of the United Americas Alliance, Mister Burke,” said Lieutenant Gorman. “Not employees of Weyland-Yutani. We are not allowed to profit on anything we discover on a deployment—never mind that these people own the rights.”
“That’s a technicality,” said Burke as he smiled and raised his hands. “I can promise you that Weyland-Yutani will not forget the people who brought this to them?”
“Like you didn’t forget the colonists you sent out to that ship, Burke?” Ripley said. “Like you were willing to risk every one of our lives by trying to bring those alien specimens aboard the ship? What were you going to do—smuggle them past ICC Quarantine?”
“Not possible,” said Hicks. “No unknown living organism goes through quarantine—none.”
“Keep on thinking that, Corporal Hicks,” Burke grinned. “And like I said, Ripley, I made a bad call—it was a bad call. But with this? This will wash the slate clean for all of us. With exclusive rights—of which each of you will get a few percent, I’ll even include the little girl to make up for what she’s been through—we can write our own tickets.”
“You know,” Hicks said. “They don’t strike me as the type to let themselves get taken by a snake-oil salesman, Burke. Not at all—and I think if we are going to go with them and meet their President, you need to tone down your greed. It shows.”
“President,” Burke laughed. “It isn’t governments that make things work—it is the corporations. They’ll understand that—it’s how things are done.”
Ripley shook her head. “Only for us, and only today, Burke. Didn’t they teach you history?”
“History is written by the victors, Ripley.”
“Yes it is, Mister Burke,” said Gorman. “And frankly, we aren’t the right people to be making this contact with the Colonials. When we get back aboard Sulaco, I am going to inform the Commandant as regulations stipulate, and the Alliance can send out trained diplomats. Hopefully they will get here before the vultures from the Three Worlds Empire, the China-Asian Congress, the Soviet Pact, the Pan-African Assembly, the Caliphate, or the Federated European Union arrives on scene.”
“You do that and we all get cut out. No one will get rights, the government will step in and sell it off piece by piece to the highest bidder!” sputtered Burke. “You are throwing away a fortune.”
“But I’m keeping my soul, Mister Burke,” Lieutenant Gorman said quietly. “It isn’t all about money. Bishop, let’s see if Major Caldwell will let us go back to Sulaco and place a call—or if we are actually prisoners here.” And he looked directly at Burke and glared at him. “And while we are there, I will authorize a nuclear strike on the alien ship that Ripley and Nostromo found. It’s the only way to be sure.”
Burke sputtered, but the other Marines smiled at Gorman and nodded, even Ripley. But then Vasquez grinned and she leaned in close. “You’re still an asshole, you know that? But you’re an okay asshole, Gorman. A Marine asshole.”
Saul Tigh held the hatch open for his wife, and then he entered the conference room on Galactica, and he stopped dead cold. The Admiral was present, along with Lee Adama and Commander Lorne. So was the President and her aide Tory. And Athena. But Galen Tyrol and Starbuck were here as well, and that resistance leader from Caprica—Samuel Anders. And one of the Cavil Cylons dressed in the uniform of a Fleet Chaplain.
“What the frack is the toaster doing here?” he snarled, and then he nodded a sort-of apology at Athena. She wasn’t happy, but she nodded—and then she smiled. Why did she smile, Saul asked himself.
“He’s here, Colonel because I asked him here,” said the Admiral. He poured several glasses of Ambrosia—big glasses, and then he straightened up. “Brother Cavil is going to ask you to do something—all of you. Don’t ask questions, I just want you to do it.”
Saul frowned again and Brother Cavil stepped forward. “Colonel Tigh, would you stand there?” he asked. “Mister Anders, take his hand, and the hand of Miss Tigh.” He stepped up next to Ellen and handed her his hand, and then he nodded at Tory. “Miss Foster,” he said holding out his other hand, “then Athena, and finally Chief Tyrol. Galen, would you take Colonel Tigh’s hand please?”
“Bill,” Saul growled. But Adama shook his head, and Saul clasped Tyrol’s hand in his own.
And then Sam Anders, Athena, and Cavil began to chant a simple mantra. And something in Saul’s head went CLICK. It was as if the floodgates of memory opened and he remembered EVERYTHING from his entire life—including the events on Joyita, the terror at being captured by the Cylons, the pain of the memory extraction process, the death of his original body and his rebirth as a Cylon. He remembered it all. And he finally remembered every single detail of the last fourteen years perfectly.
His alcoholism, which began after Joyita; Ellen’s promiscuity; he remembered every single error of judgment he had made over fourteen years; all in response to the pain he did not even know he carried. Every time he let Bill down, he remembered in absolute perfection. And Saul Tigh fell to his knees holding his head.
“Gods,” he whispered. “Gods,” he cried.
And then Bill Adama was there and he handed him a glass—and Saul drank it all on one swallow.
“What the frack was that?” Starbuck said, and Sam turned to here. He had a very sad look on his face, and he took her hands.
“Kara,” he said gently, “we—Saul, Ellen, Galen, Tory, and me—we are the last Five of the Cylons.”
Starbuck jerked away. She shook her head, and a look just washed over her face. “No. NO.” she said as she limped back—the brace on her leg keeping her from bending her knee.
Saul got to his feet and he held Ellen, who was crying, and he sighed. “We are, Captain Thrace,” he said. “Gods help us, we are.”
Tyrol was just staring at Athena, “You knew? Boomer knew?”
“Boomer did not know—nor did Athena. Our memories of you were stolen from all of the Cylons by our creator—Daniel Graystone,” Brother Cavil answered. “You know the truth, Galen Tyrol. Search your memories.”
And the deck chief’s face went pale.
Adama stepped forward. “We,” he said gesturing towards Lee and Mathias and Laura, “have known about this since Sidewinder boarded this ship—but only a few others have been informed and so far they have kept their mouths shut. That is going to change. NONE of you five have committed any crimes,” he said with a glance at Laura who stood with no emotion at all playing over her features, “you are innocent. This is something that was done to you—a crime that was committed on your bodies and your minds.”
Mathias nodded his agreement and he spoke up. “Accept the truth, and know that none of us here see any of you differently than we did.”
“FRACK THAT!” yelled Starbuck. “THEY ARE CYLONS!” she screamed. “AND YOU KNEW?” She paused and shook her head again, and grabbed her crutch and moved towards the hatch.
“Kara, wait,” Sam said as he grabbed her arm, and she jerked away from him and spun around to punch him with a loud CRACK.
“DON’T YOU EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN, YOU FRACKING TOASTER!”
And she stormed out, leaving Sam sitting on the deck, holding his jaw.
“That went better than I expected,” said Lee. “Drink, Mister Anders?”
“I need one,” he said as he slowly stood back up, accepting a glass from the Commander of Pegasus.
Tory turned to Laura. “This is why I was assigned to Baltar, Madame President? You couldn’t trust me anymore?”
“I don’t trust you, Miss Foster,” she said in a cold voice. “And I will expect your resignation on my desk by morning,” then she smiled. “I have agreed to take no action against you—that doesn’t mean I have to work with you.”
“But I wasn’t a part of the at- . . .,” Tory began.
“I don’t care, Miss Foster. Pack your things—you are not staying on Colonial One nor are you working for me.”
Tory’s eyes flashed. “Madame President, I . . .,” but Laura cut her off.
“No. My mind is made up. I will not have a Cylon working in my office.”
She flushed. Even with her dark skin it was clear that Tory flushed and everyone could tell she was angry beyond words, and then she smiled.
“Athena,” she said, turning her head to face Sharon. “Hera is alive. The President ordered Cottle to fake her death and gave the child to Maya—her new assistant—to adopt. I will testify under oath that she ordered the kidnapping of your daughter and then had Cottle tell you she died in childbirth. Frack you, Madame President!” she snapped, and stormed off.
Hamish sighed and he shook his head. “I picked up survivors from the Thirteenth Tribe and discovered the stuff of my worst nightmares all in the same day, Major,” he said, lifting a cup of tea towards Sam, who sat behind her desk in the very small office accorded to her as commander aboard the old Anubis. “You are going to let them go back to their ship and rain fiery death down upon those creatures?”
Sam snorted. “They don’t need to for the colony if these projections are accurate—forty plus megatons?” She shook her head. “That’ll take of the infestation. But this ship, this derelict that they found with eggs?” She sighed. “Yeah, I think I’m going to let them do it.”
She picked up her own china cup and took a sip. “I cannot believe how slow their ships are in FTL,” she mused. “I mean, their computer and medical technology is an order of magnitude . . .,”
“At least,” said Hamish.
“. . . greater than our own,” Sam finished with a slight look of exasperation on her face. And that ship carries directed energy weapons—lasers and particle beam cannons. Working DEWs,” she shook her head again. “My gods, it is the holy grail that the Fleet has been pursing for decades.”
“To tell the truth, Major,” Hamish said after he placed the cup on its saucer, “I was even more impressed that their ship basically operates itself. That level of computing technology is something that the Colonies have forsaken since the creation of the Cylons. Now, of course, from speaking with them, it operates better with a crew, but even so, at full strength that ship requires just ninety. And that . . . cryogenic hibernation,” he sounded out the unfamiliar word, “technology they have allows them to carry up to two thousand troops for a brief spell. Impressive.”
“And worrisome,” Sam said. “What happens if the Guardians—or our allied Cylons,” she said with a snort, “decide to launch a cyber attack on that ship’s computers?”
“Actually, I think these people could probably give the Cylons a run for their money in that area. Consider what they were doing down there on the surface, Major. Terraforming the lunar atmosphere. The sheer audacity involved in that, and for them? It’s just routine. Breathtaking . . . and terrifying.”
“Well, it’s not all doom and gloom, Captain,” Sam smiled. “Our FTL is much faster for cross long-distances. To get from here to the Colonies in their ships would take them fourteen years, not eight months. They haven’t discovered tylium, and our ships are much more responsive in normal space—and other than those energy weapons, our kinetics and missiles are at least on par with their own. Not to mention our EVA and flight suits are far less burdensome than theirs.”
“True, but they also have FTL comm,” Hamish pointed out. “That is worth a hell of lot right there.”
“Only if you can move ships to exploit it—which they cannot, Captain. At least not quickly.”
She sat back and took another sip of the tea. “I think I am going to let them go back over there—you feel up to flying them, Captain?”
“Certainly, Major. If that means I have an opportunity to tour that ship, most definitely.” Hamish took another sip and then he sat down the cup and saucer and leaned forward. “Major, it may be none of my concern, but what are you doing associated with the SFM? I mean a decorated officer of the line—scuttlebutt says you were up for an XO slot on a Mercury-class. What happened?”
Sam winced. And then she sighed. “Admiral Adama and Commander Lorne—a few others in the Colonial Fleet—already know, as does the crew on this ship. None of them have spilled the beans?”
“Not one, Major.”
She snorted. “Will wonders ever cease? Okay, you want the nitty-gritty? Four years ago I was a rising star in the Fleet. Made Major on my 27th birthday and was assigned to Fleet Headquarters, Picon. It was supposed to be a six-month tour, to be followed by assignment as Operations Officer on a Battlestar—and then early promotion to Colonel and XO,” she smiled. “Those were the days, I was going to make Colonel before my 30th,” she said. “I had already served under Commander Lorne—only he was Colonel Lorne at the time—on the old Athena, so I knew him well. Everything went fine, until Admiral Corman brought his staff to Caprica seventy days after I began working for him.”
“We went to the Presidential Retreat to meet with Adar and we were staying for the entire weekend. Long story short, Captain, the President got drunk and he got rather too friendly. I wound up kicking him in the balls.”
Hamish blinked. But Sam didn’t stop.
“His security took me into custody and held me without counsel for four days—no food, no visitors, no showers, nothing. They didn’t even question me. And on the fifth day, Admiral Corman came in with a list of charges filed against me, for assaulting Adar.”
“I told him what happened, and he shrugged. He said there were no witnesses to any impropriety on the part of the President, and conversely about a dozen affidavits stating that I had made sexual advances to him and been rebuffed, which is when I attacked him without provocation.”
“He gave me a choice. I could press charges against the President and they would be dismissed. Whereupon I would be charged in full and spend the next twenty years at hard labor. Or, I could resign my commission and forfeit all pay and benefits and the incident would be forgotten.”
She lowered her head. “I demanded to speak with an attorney—that was denied. I told Admiral Corman that I would go to the media, and he laughed. He said that my tribunal—military tribunal—was already assembled and if I did not resign then and there and sign a non-disclosure agreement, then I would be tried, convicted, sentenced, and shipped off world that same day.”
“So I signed,” she said. “I signed the paper and I resigned my commission and then I found out that Adar used his political connections to have every application I made for employment black-balled. My bank accounts had been seized for tax evasion and I was denied credit from anyone except a loan shark—apparently his people wrecked that for me too. I was working in a waitress in the slums outside of Caprica City—only legal job I could get—when I met Jon Namer. And we talked. And that was my last shift in that greasy spoon where customers felt that they could fondle my ass if they left me a quarter-cubit tip.”
“I never looked back, Captain Malcolm,” she said. “Does that surprise you?”
“Based on what I come to expect from you, Major, the only thing that surprises me is that you left Adar alive,” Hamish answered.
And she chuckled. “I had some faith at the moment it happened that the system would work—it doesn’t. It didn’t. In the end though, it probably saved my life. Otherwise I would have been on one of those Battlestars and not at Charon.” She sighed again. “Now, unless you have more questions that do not concern you, Captain, why don’t you fly our guests back to their ship so that they can nuke those creatures and grab their tooth-brushes. I have some work to finish.”
Hamish stood and he gave a slight bow. “The Major commands, and I obey,” he said with a smile.
Well well well... very interesting. Looks like everyone is acting like reasonable, thinking adults. Except for Burke, which is to be expected. And Roslin, which is also expected. And Starbuck, who was never all that reasonable to start with. And thinking things through isn't one of her strong suits, either. She may be the best pilot they've got, but they never should have put her in a command position.
Roslin's unceasing hatred of the Cylons is really going to come back to bite her in the ass some day. The only question is whether or not it's going to bite the rest of the Colonials as well when it does. I think she'll weather the crisis the revelation about Hera is going to cause (unless Sharon and/or Helo shoots her... more likely from Sharon, I would think), but with the elections and all... well, you never know. But alienating the one person who is most likely to know all her dirty little political secrets? Knows all the back-door deals and political wheedling that the public generally knows little of, and would probably find distasteful (at best) if they found out? That is a strategic blunder of amazing proportions. I can see Tory actually looking to work for one of Roslin's political opponents, who don't share the Presidents aversion to Cylons... and using that insider knowledge to devastating effect.
I wonder if Sharon will reconsider Lorne's offer now? Knowing what happened to her daughter is going to change her outlook on a lot of things. But Adama wasn't involved in that whole situation, was he? I can't recall...
MondoMage wrote:I wonder if Sharon will reconsider Lorne's offer now? Knowing what happened to her daughter is going to change her outlook on a lot of things. But Adama wasn't involved in that whole situation, was he? I can't recall...
He wasn't. There are lot of things that Adama will reluctantly acquiesce to out of necessity, but kidnapping a child is not one of them. And make no mistake, it was kidnapping. Whatever Athena's legal status, Helo is a Colonial citizen, and his daughter was taken from him without due process of law. High Justice Lampkin will have a field day with this.
"Only a fool expects rational behaviour from their fellow humans. Why do you expect it from a machine that humans have designed?"
“Athena,” Tory said, turning her head to face Sharon. “Hera is alive. The President ordered Cottle to fake her death and gave the child to Maya—her new assistant—to adopt. I will testify under oath that she ordered the kidnapping of your daughter and then had Cottle tell you she died in childbirth. Frack you, Madame President!” she snapped, and stormed off.
And everyone’s jaw dropped.
Shock as much as anything saved the life of President Roslin at that moment, because despite her Cylon speed and reaction time and strength, Athena was stunned—at least for a brief moment. Athena surged forward and Laura Roslin gasped as those extremely angry fingers reached out for her throat—and stopped dead just inches from Laura Roslin’s skin before being pulled back; Saul grabbed the furious woman from behind, and Anders had tackled her around the waist—she still almost managed to connect with a vicious right hook thrown as she went to the deck, but Brother Cavil grabbed her arm and got thrown himself into the bulkhead for his troubles, but Galen caught the fist and held before she could resume her swing.
And even as the two Adamas and Mathias finally started moving (and a white-faced Laura backed up against the bulkhead) Ellen was already kneeling next to Sharon as Saul and Sam’s combined weight held her down on the floor, and Galen Tyrol still held her clenched right fist. “Not this way, Athena,” she said. “She wants you to hit her—that will let her get away with this and throw you away forever—we will get your daughter back to you, sister,” she hissed.
“I WANT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!” Athena snarled, her attention totally focused on Laura, tears of pure rage, mixed with . . . a kaleidoscope of hope, relief, and fear, streaming down her cheeks.
Mathias shook his head and he looked at Lee and the Admiral—and they were just as stunned as he was—as Athena was. They didn’t know, he thought as his jaw worked—they didn’t know.
“Saul,” the elder Adama growled, “take who you need and get her,” he said pointing at Athena, “back to Helo’s quarters—Lee, grab Helo and take him there and use Marines if you must, but make him stay there. Everyone else—except the President—OUT.”
Athena was still clawing and struggling and writhing trying to get away from Saul and Anders, shouting imprecations and threats of a very imaginative physical violence. But with the help of Cavil—rubbing his shoulder from where he had impacted against the metal bulkhead—and Ellen and Galen and Sam, Saul managed to get the Athena over to the hatch and outside in the corridor. And Lee closed the hatch behind him, shutting it off to at least slow down the Raptor pilot if she broke free.
She quit struggling and started to sob, collapsing down to the deck and Ellen held her there—even as Saul and Sam kept a strong grip on her arms, just in case.
“That included you, Commander Lorne,” Adama said in the now almost empty conference room.
Mathias ignored him for a moment and he glared at the President—who met his gaze unflinchingly. “You told me Admiral,” he whispered, “there was a line that I had dare not cross—a point past which you would not be pushed. I, too, have such a line, Sir. And this,” he said waving a hand at the closed hatch and the President, “more than crosses it.”
“I said GET OUT, Commander Lorne,” Adama growled again, and Mathias just looked at Adama—and the younger man realized that this was what pure furious anger looked like on the Admiral. He nodded.
“Aye, aye, SIR,” he answered, walking over to the hatch, opening it, stepped through, and closed it behind him.
Bill Adama shook—he literally shook—and he picked up one of the glasses and took a deep swallow of Ambrosia. Then he threw the empty glass against the bulkhead where it shattered.
“What were you thinking?” he barked.
Laura stepped forward and her expression was grim. “I want Lieutenant Agathon arrested—she tried to assault me in front of witnesses. Put her in the brig, Admiral.”
“Laura, she had every right to land that punch—and you are lucky that Saul and Anders grabbed her in time.”
The President smiled—and there was absolutely no humor in that smile. “She tried to assault the President of the Colonies; and now she is going to the brig.”
“YOU LIED TO ME!” Bill thundered, and then he collected himself. “You stole that child from her mother and father and you lied to them, you lied to the Fleet, you lied to me, Laura. In the gods name, WHY?”
“The child is important, Admiral,” she said with a faraway look in her eyes. “I’ve seen her in my visions—seen her running through the Opera House. I’ve seen Lieutenant Agathon chasing after her and myself running a race to get to her first. She’s the key to our future.”
“Your visions? YOUR VISIONS?” Adama asked, “You never stopped taking the chamalla extract did you, Madame President?”
“And the Lords anointed a leader to guide the caravan of the heavens to their new homeland. And unto the leader, they gave a vision of serpents, numbering two and ten, as a sign of things to come,” Laura quoted. “I am that leader—I have had the vision of serpents, Admiral. I am the dying leader Pythia foretold who would lead humanity to the promised land.”
“Y-you,” Adama stammered and then he forced himself to calm down. “You stole away a child because of this religious NONSENSE? Have you lost your fracking mind, Madame President?”
“No, Admiral,” Laura answered in a very cold voice. “That child is the key—a key that I will not let any Cylon possess. I did what I must, as a . . . National Security Measure I signed an executive order for the removal of Hera from the Agathons in order to protect this Fleet.”
“You told them she was dead—you told me she was dead!” Adama barked.
“I did no such thing,” Laura said with a smile. “Doctor Cottle told them—and you—that the child had died. And once Athena is in the brig again, then I might consider allowing Captain Agathon to see his daughter—until then, Hera will not have contact with either of them.”
“That decision is no longer yours, Madame President.”
“Are you going to launch another coup, Admiral? I have the law—enough of it—on my side. Hera is part Cylon, and keeping her in a neutral environment where she is not aware of that is vital—I know that. I have seen that.”
“Do you think that the Courts are going to agree with you, Laura?” Adama asked. “They will remove Hera from your custody and return her to her parents—and you will be charged with a heinous crime.”
Laura flushed. “She’s a Cylon—she’s not a person, she’s a thing, Admiral. Get it through your head. We made them. We built them. I don’t care if they look like us now or not—they are things!”
“Somehow, I doubt that High Justice Lampkin will see it that way,” Adama growled.
“Bill, you have to trust me,” Laura began, and Adama cut her off.
“Trust you? TRUST YOU!?! Madame President, you went behind my back and you did an atrocious criminal act—you stole a fracking child, you told the child’s mother and father she had died, you gave her to another woman.”
“Her mother is fracking Cylon!”
“I DON’T CARE!” Adama thundered. “She’s a person, a real live person, Laura, and you need to start understanding RIGHT THE FRACK NOW that she is an officer of the Colonial Fleet with every right and privilege and responsibility thereof,” Adama gritted his teeth, and he seethed with anger. “You betrayed my trust, Madame President. And you will be lucky if I don’t throw your fracking ass back into my brig! NOW GET OFF MY SHIP!”
“Bill . . .,” Laura began.
“LEAVE! Or by the Gods I will have you thrown off my fracking Battlestar,” Adama snarled before he turned and stormed off. Leaving Laura Roslin, the President of the Twelve Colonies standing alone.
Last edited by masterarminas on 2013-02-02 01:37pm, edited 1 time in total.
I really like this, I always wondered why Roslin's actions never backfired on her like this in the series. I do believe Roslin hasn't just burnt her bridges she has nuked them. Plus Commander Lorne gets to see what happens when you push Adama too far, which is probably a good thing.
Baltar: "I don't want to miss a moment of the last Battlestar's destruction!"
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
Does raise interesting questions regarding the election though. Baltar is discredited, and Roslin is now too. So are we going to see President Zarek at this rate?
Skywalker_T-65 wrote:Does raise interesting questions regarding the election though. Baltar is discredited, and Roslin is now too. So are we going to see President Zarek at this rate?
Don't forget Hamish - might be more palatable to a large number of the people than a former terrorist/freedom fighter. The whole royalty angle might raise concerns, however.
Roslin did indeed step in it up to her eyebrows this time. She's going to have to steer well clear of Athena at the least. Helo might be a bit more professional about it, but I'm not sure that's a risk she'd be willing to take. She's lost Adama's trust. Never really had Lorne's, and now he thinks even less of her. So that's two Battlestar commanders out of three... and I don't think the last is going to look to highly upon her actions either. It's never a good thing when the military leaders lack faith in their civilian leaders. Not that I think Adama would go for the whole coup thing again. He's more likely to wait for the outcome of elections. Lorne wouldn't rebel, but he would also make no bones about his feelings about the whole issue.
Skywalker_T-65 wrote:Does raise interesting questions regarding the election though. Baltar is discredited, and Roslin is now too. So are we going to see President Zarek at this rate?
Who just happens to have the little problem of being the leader of a (former) terrorist organisation.
On the other hand, they need to cut down on paperwork anyway, so a simply-fied version were ship-captains act as town-mayors/leaders, might be needed.
Shame about them not finding the Nebula-planet, they could have used a pit-stop of a year or so, to get their act togeter.
Their gravity control is good and they should still have the plans of the original basestars.
Take the lower scourcer of a basestar and use it as a base for a Atlantis like cityship from Stargate.
This means that if a hostile shows-up, they can run by jumping the city.
But to make sure nobody dies from such a emergency jump, a city-dome would be needed.
Not saying that Zarek will win, just that he's now the only (official) runner I can name off the top of my head. Hamish made it clear he doesn't want to run (despite the reporters comment).
Granted he was running as Baltar's VP sooo....
EDIT: As in Zarek wasn't even technically running for President.
However things shake out, the Fleet is in for a major political crisis at the very time when they can least afford it. Civil unrest is the sort of thing the military hates getting involved in because it always ends up messy, and it serves as a distraction from the genocidal machines that are trying to exterminate/enslave the lot of them. This has the definite potential to tear the Fleet apart unless drastic action is taken, either by the military enforcing order (like I said, messy) or someone on the civilian side that the majority of the population respects stepping forward and pushing for calm.
As for Hamish... well, what he wants is somewhat irrelevant. That's what write-in ballots are for. Assuming the Colonies have such a thing.
Sidewinder looked up as Mathias slid into the copilot’s seat, even though he was not today wearing a flight suit—and he, the Commander, looked pissed. So did the passenger.
“Flight has cleared us to return to Scorpia, Sir,” he said.
“Negative, Sidewinder,” Mathias answered in a clipped voice as he put the auxiliary wireless headset on his head. “Set course for Colonial One.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” the pilot answered softly as the elevator lifted the Raptor from Galactica’s hanger deck to the flight deck.
“Scorpia, Gremlin,” the Commander broadcast.
“Gremlin, Scorpia. Go.”
“Put Torch on, Scorpia.”
There was a pause.
“Gremlin, Torch. Go.”
“Get Captain Marsden and Special Agent Von aboard a Raptor, along with Master-at-Arms Juris and some of his people—and I want them armed,” Mathias ordered. “Tell them to bring their evidence kits. They are to meet me aboard Colonial One, ASAP. Gremlin out.”
Sidewinder stared at Mathias. Ann Marsden was the senior (of two) Judge Advocate General personnel stationed on Scorpia—and Special Agent Francis (he normally went by Frank) Von was the civilian head of the Fleet Criminal Investigation Service assigned to the Battlestar.
Mathias did not look at Sidewinder, but he motioned forward. “Deck is clear, Captain Greene—why are you waiting?”
“Sir,” the pilot answered and shook himself. “Galactica Flight, Raptor 107,” he called out. “Request permission to depart.”
“Raptor 107, Flight. You are clear for departure.”
Sidewinder nudged his throttles forward and the Raptor lifted up and began to accelerate down the flight deck before hurtling into open space.
“Kaboose,” Mathias spoke into his wireless.
“Sir?”
“I want all transmissions from Colonial One to the rest of the Fleet jammed.”
There was a pause, and then a very quiet “Aye, aye, sir,” in answer.
“I’m not launching a coup, Sidewinder, so you might as well quit staring at me,” the Commander said in a matter-of-fact voice. “However, if the President returns while we are there, I am going to have Frank arrest her ass and throw her in Scorpia’s brig hopefully until she rots.”
“And that isn’t a coup, how? Sir?” Stefan Greene asked.
“Because she has committed a felony—she kidnapped a new-born babe, faked the child’s death, told the parents it was dead, and has someone else raising it on that ship, Sidewinder. This isn’t a coup—it is a hostage rescue. And the President is on Galactica at this moment, but if she shows her face before we are done, I will have her arrested.”
Sidewinder released a deep breath that he was holding. “Okay,” he said. “Totally not a coup; got it.”
“Miss Foster,” Mathias continued. “You know where the documents are stored?”
“I do,” she answered bitterly.
“You are not to touch them or remove them or examine in any way until Marsden and Von arrive to take proper custody—is that clear?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good. You understand that you will have to stand trial for this as well, correct?” Mathias asked.
“I do. And I am willing to do so.”
“And that I have no control over what—if any—deal the Court makes for your testimony?”
“I don’t want a deal, Commander,” Tory answered in a very bitter voice.
“No, I don’t imagine that you do. She’s wrong you know,” he continued. “About the Cylons; the human-form replicates: you and the others.”
“Thirty minutes ago, I thought she was right, Commander. What does that say about me?”
“It says you are human and can hold grudges, Miss Foster. But I am not going to damn you because of what the Cylons did to your original body. Your mind is the same—you are the same. That makes you a person, not a thing. And that means you have rights . . . and responsibilities under the law, as well.”
“I understand, Commander,” Tory said softly.
“Coming up on Colonial One,” Sidewinder reported, and then he paused. “They are asking for our reason to board ship.”
Mathias adjusted the frequency on his wireless. “Colonial One, Raptor 107—we are carrying members of the Presidents staff; request immediate landing authorization.”
“Affirmative, Raptor 107. Stand by,” the wireless crackled. After a moment, the voice resumed. “You are clear to land in the main hold—cargo doors open.”
“Copy, Colonial One,” answered Mathias and he switched frequencies and he smiled as he saw the sunlight glinting off the canopy of a second Raptor.
“Gremlin, Arclight,” the wireless spoke, “I’ve got the package.”
“Copy, Arclight,” said Mathias. “Follow us in. Put me on internal speakers.”
“Gremlin you are live.”
“Gentlemen, there is a possible hostage situation—a month old child who has kidnapped from her parents. I have all the information and a person who can identify the woman and child in question—they are not to be harmed. We will be collecting evidence of this crime,” and others, Mathias thought, “and if the crew of Colonial One interfere you are hereby authorized to use non-lethal force to make them comply. Rules of Engagement Four Daggit are in place—lethal weapons are to be used only if you are threatened with a lethal weapon—understood?”
He heard faint echoes of people stating their assent, and Mathias nodded. “Full briefing on the deck—gentlemen, let’s get this done.”
Last edited by masterarminas on 2013-02-02 02:57pm, edited 1 time in total.
Ooh. This is going to get really messy. If the Colonial political system is anything like the American, then you can't arrest a sitting president until they have been successfully impeached. As for a military officer executing an armed search on a civilian vessel - which also happens to be the Presidential office complex - without a warrant from a civilian judge.....
I can understand Lorne's motivation, but he may have to accept that the means he is employing to rescuing Hera will preclude him from successfully nailing Roslin. He can hardly demand the establishment of a fully independent judiciary and then act extra-legally.
"Only a fool expects rational behaviour from their fellow humans. Why do you expect it from a machine that humans have designed?"
This is an interesting situation. Lorne is justified in his actions, but this is a case where "doing the right thing" may not be the right thing to do.
Baltar: "I don't want to miss a moment of the last Battlestar's destruction!"
Centurion: "Sir, I really think you should look at the other Battlestar."
Baltar: "What are you babbling about other...it's impossible!"
Centurion: "No. It is a Battlestar."
Corrax Entry 7:17: So you walk eternally through the shadow realms, standing against evil where all others falter. May your thirst for retribution never quench, may the blood on your sword never dry, and may we never need you again.
“Commander?” the crewman asked after he helped Tory down from the Raptor—and his eyes grew wide at seeing the men and women in uniform disembark from the second Raptor.
“I am here to conduct an inspection of this ship, pursuant to the Intercolonial Commerce Code, Article Three, Section Fourteen, which states, ‘all ships of civilian registry operating under the flag of any of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol must permit a boarding inspection of cargo and passengers upon the request of officers so empowered.’ Section Fifteen lists ‘Colonial Fleet officers having the rank of Colonel or higher and assigned to active service as the commanding or executive officer of a Battlestar’ as among those officers so empowered,” Mathias said as he headed for the ladders leading to the personnel deck.
“We will begin our inspection top-side and work our down, Crewman,” as he quickly climbed the ladder, followed by his officers and men.
“But this is the President’s ship!”
“Alas, that doesn’t change the law, Crewman. Inform your commander to meet me top-side,” Mathias said before he disappeared through the hatch.
“Commander, this is most unusual—we haven’t had an inspection team since Captain Adama came aboard to conduct a survey of the survivors!” Captain Evensun protested. “For what reasons are you conducting this inspection?”
“ICC 3-14 does not require a reason, Captain Evensun,” Mathias said with a pleasant smile. “But to simplify things, I have concerns that a psycho-tropic hallucinogenic drug is being stored aboard this ship—in quantities that are illegal, Captain Evensun,” among other reasons, he thought. “Is that not correct, Miss Foster?”
“Yes, Commander. The President keeps a large supply of chamalla leaf and extract on hand,” the former aide answered. And Mathias smiled. “You understand of course, that chamalla is legal—but not in quantities suitable for trafficking, yes, Captain?”
“Trafficking?” he blurted. “She’s the President!”
“And does that place her above the law, Captain? Now stand aside,” Mathias ordered.
“Under protest, Commander,” Evensun answered as he stepped away from the hatch leading to the government offices.
Maya looked up at Tory entered, and she smiled at the woman. “Tory! Is the President back . . . with . . . you?” she asked, her voice fading away at the sight of the officers and crew from Scorpia.
“No, Maya, she is not,” Tory answered, and she sighed. She whispered to Lorne. “Commander, she did not know about the child—and she loves Isis as if she were her own. She was told more lies, and believed the adoption was real.”
Mathias nodded. “Miss . . . ?” he asked.
“Maya is my entire name, Commander—a declining tradition on Leonis, but one my parents chose to respect. As have I with my daughter Isis,” she answered.
“Very well, Maya; may I sit?”
“Please. What’s wrong?” she asked.
Mathias took in a deep breath and he began to tell her.
Some time later, two Masters-at-Arms escorted High Justice Romo Lampkin aboard the ship. He frowned at the sobbing woman—Maya—who rocked a young baby back and forth, Tory sitting next to her and stoking her back to comfort her. And then he looked at Mathias.
“I received a request from the officers of this ship to come here immediately, Commander,” he said, “and then I received your request that I do the same. Searching the President’s offices without a warrant are we?”
Mathias smiled, and he recited the ICC regulations, and Lampkin nodded. “Interesting interpretation—how is this ship NOT a government vessel?”
“I checked, your honor,” said Mathias. “No one has ever—not since the attack—changed the ship’s registration or affiliation. Indeed, it is only Colonial One because the President has adopted it as her home—if she changes ships, this vessel will revert to Colonial Heavy 798.”
Lampkin nodded. “The government will argue, of course, that there is no longer an office of registration—and that de facto, this vessel is now a government vessel rather than a civilian one.”
“Except the ship still carries civilian passengers for whom it serves as home, your honor,” Mathias answered with a wide smile. “And the Quorum certainly could have declared this vessel as a government or military vessel at any time—but instead has used the appellation of ‘civilian’ in all official paperwork concerning Colonial One, which to me and the JAG assigned to Scorpia means that it remains a civilian vessel, your honor.”
“How many times?” asked Lampkin. And Mathias nodded to Ann Madsen.
She stepped forward. “From copies of the Quorum meetings that I have gone over, they have referenced this ship—and the problems that have cropped up with engineering, food and water distribution, housing, internal atmosphere conditions, etc—four times and each times have labeled it as a civilian vessel. I specifically note the Quorum meeting where . . . ,”
And Lampkin stopped her. “Where the President signed an act of the Quorum prohibiting Marines from being used on civilian vessels without express consent of the office of the President; yes, I am familiar with that. And with the fact that this vessel was cited—are those Marines, Commander?”
“Masters-at-Arms, your Honor. Not Marines,” Mathias answered and Lampkin smiled back as well.
“You’ve crossed your T’s and dotted your I’s, Commander. I still think that I should rule against your ability to conduct a search—but what were you searching for? And does it have anything to do with this weeping lady here?”
“Tory?”
“Miss Foster,” Lampkin said with a bow and kiss on the back of her hand. “A pleasure as always.”
“Your honor,” she replied. “I assisted the President in persuading Doctor Cottle of the Galactica to fake the death of Karl and Sharon Agathon’s child, replacing it with the corpse of a baby that passed away just a day earlier. I also made arrangement to get the still living child, Hera Agathon, off of Galactica and here to Colonial One, where Maya,” she said, pointing at the woman, “who knew nothing of our conspiracy was given the child to care for as her own adopted daughter. The President issued an Executive Order for this in writing,” she said.
Romo Lampkin blinked. He looked first at Tory over upper rim of his glasses, and then at Mathias, who nodded, and then at Maya and the child. “Oh, frack,” he said.
Last edited by masterarminas on 2013-02-02 06:03pm, edited 1 time in total.
