Re: [oBSG/BT] Mission of Civilization
Posted: 2011-01-06 04:25pm
Militia Control, Arcology of Singh
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 5, 2999 A.D.
The battle taking place at the surface installation was being watched in the Control Center's holotank. The eggman-shaped BattleMech - according to the old Star League warbook an 'UrbanMech', optimized for city operations - had been advancing on the main surface headquarters installation. It had been easily bracketed by the two landrams who were pouring blasterfire into it. The troops accompanying the landrams had scattered widely. Adama and MacRuder took the opportunity to examine close-up the effects of Kobolian weaponry.
The semi-ablative armor flaked and peeled off rather quickly, falling away in burning sheets where the blasters played over the Mech's bulk. The mech turned away, presenting it's right side to the attacker. The blasters tried to concentrate on the shoulder joint, but weren't fast enough to prevent the arm from coming up.
The landram was well-armored as the Kobolians measured such things - point-zero-five metrons of hull-plating, sufficient to stop most shrapnel. It's main defense was it's force field, which protected against energy-based attacks.
But this particular UrbanMech was a Capellan model, and had its autocannon/10 replaced with a larger autocannon/20. Against a 185 millimeter autocannon shell, the landram's defenses were useless. One shot, and the landram's front section blossomed open like a burning flower and the rear section flew backwards.
But this type of UrbanMech had thinner armor than the standard model. The second landram's firepower finally penetrated the armor, and the superheated plasma of the blaster-bolts managed to ignite the myomar inside. The pilot ejected after that, and was quickly seized by the infantry. A moment later, the autocannon ammunition detonated, obliterating the right side of the Mech.
Adama grimaced at the hologram of the destroyed landram. "We definitely need to look into unpowered armor for vehicles."
MacRuder commanded, "Have that prisoner brought in. Notify the local defending forces - no more need for live prisoners."
The viewpoint changed to the hangars. One of the lanky prancing-bird-like Mechs - warbook-labeled as 'Locusts' - had entered a hangar, only to find the rear of one of the Zero-X ASFs facing him. The Kobolian-modified fighter engine, as powerful as an Inner Sphere DropShip engine, ignited only ten meters from the pirate Mech.
The backblast slammed the Locust twenty meters out of the hangar and melted away the armor. The side-mounted machine guns exploded as the Mech fell on it's back and the pilot ejected in a panic. His injuries would have been fatal anyway, so the infantry's blaster barrage that blew his body into unrecognizable pieces might have been a mercy.
The second Locust saw the fate of it's comrade and decided to practice the better part of valor and run for the woods as fast as it could. But the two Zero-X's were now airborne and aligning for a strafing run. The landcruiser was at an altitude of three meters and was commanding half the landing field, peppering the tarmac with laser-torpedoes. The explosions panicked the MechWarrior, herding the Locust toward the edge of the paved area.
The Hoplite could have easily vaporized the Locust with one burst from it's main turret. But it withheld, and the two Zero-X pilots were the ones to get credit for this kill as four laser-torpedoes punched through the armor and pierced the fusion core. The outer shell of the Mech fragmented and scattered in a burning splash like a dirtball thrown on the pavement.
----------
Arcology of Singh
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 5. 2999 A.D.
Platoon Four's APC raced through the deserted streets, three blocks away from the crater where they had crash-landed. Sergeant-Major Chang listened in on the taclink, hearing how Platoon Two and Three were shredded by the little blocky alien combat vehicles, as well as the battle at the spaceport and the death of the Firestarter. He turned to his platoon in the half-empty APC and prepared himself.
These twenty-eight men and women depended on the Sergeant-Major to guide them through the hell that was an infantryman's lot in the Inner Sphere. Some of these soldiers had been with him from his days fighting under the Capellan banner, following him into self-imposed exile. Chang had always tried to do his best for his men under the ancient codes of sargeants, to accomplish the mission and to get as many back alive as possible.
"Men, when the Colonel briefed us, this campaign sounded routine - hell and blood, it was routine! But we're victims of bad intel. Someone's claimed this planet, someone with moves that we've never seen. We're out of contact with the Colonel and all other units. We've lost two DropShips and half our infantry, and the Urban Lance is taking heavy losses. Correction - " He paused as he listened to the tacnet. "Platoon One is down, killed by enemy infantry. We're the last Frankenstein infantry.
"Options are limited. We can surrender, but I have no idea if we would survive that. We can fight, but their infantry has numbers, support, and as far as I can tell better weapons, so we would definitely die. We can try to go to ground, but almost none of us are of a local ethnicity, so we would be safe only as long as we hid from everyone in the world. And we're on top of the arcology main block, so if we run to the wilderness for cover, we have to make it to the edge and a thirty- meter jump to the ground first. Pickup by friendly forces is ... remote.
"If we were a regular military unit, I would simply give the best orders I could. But we're not regular military. And this is possibly the last action of this unit.
"The APC will make the run to the wilderness, stay under enemy radar, and try to make pickup with a friendly DropShip. Those who feel that this is not a viable course of action may disembark on the green."
Sixty seconds later, the APC screeched around a corner and slowed down. Out of the back hatch rolled twelve people. As the APC sped away, some of them headed toward a building, while the remaining ones took off their helmets and threw their weapons to the ground. The small blocky foreign vehicles zoomed past them, but they obviously contacted someone, because civilian police arrived a minute later.
The APC found a boulevard and made a run straight down it. The twenty-meter-wide parkland at the edge of the arcology roof was dead ahead, with the meter-high hardened ferrocrete rim clearly visible. The machine guns sounded, pounding into the rim, knocking out chunks.
The landrams came onto the boulevard and immediately opened fire. The APC rocked as the rear tires exploded, and the infantrymen lay flat as the blaster bolts penetrated the rear of the vehicle. The shrapnel caused some minor woulds, but the next bolts had an unobstructed path to the front of the APC. The bolts blew out the front of the vehicle, not even slowed by the easily-penetrated drivers.
Chang knew that a skilled driver could have used the remaining fuel in the landing harness jump-jets to get them down safely. And that the drivers were dead. He hoped whatever deities awaited him on the other side would forgive him for leading his men to their doom.
The out-of-control PAC rammed into the weakened section of the rim and tore through, sailing into the air. Thirty meters lower, it crashed on the forest floor hard enough to bounce another ten meters.
--------------
Outside the Arcology of Aurora
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 5. 2999 A.D.
The three lances of Mechs were down to half their numbers. The living pilots were unaware of this, as all they knew was the sea of thunder and flame that enveloped them.
From the moment of their landing, they had been under continuous bombardment. From the Thor-class tanks a kilometer away came a rain of artillery shells, and from the distant Padillas Arrow IV missiles were striking with precision. These were coming faster than they normally would, as the Kobolians had managed to augment their firing mechanisms. The missiles could now be fired with a number of other missiles already flying toward their individual targets, and the Kobolian production robots had managed to mass-produce and stockpile the missiles so they could now be fired with mad abandon.
Added to this were the laser-torpedo launchers of the landcruiser Phalanx firing in arc mode. Instead of discharging their projectiles at almost light speed, they were ejected at just over the speed of sound, arcing in a ballistic trajectory. The magnetic field of the plasma bolt decayed, and the plasma escaped containment at the end of it's arc, which was among the pirate BattleMechs. The plasma bursts partially melted armor and emitted electromagnetic effects that scrambled sensors, confused computers, and generated feedback that made the neurohelmet-wearing pilots burn and spam in pain.
It was a good thing that the pirates couldn't hear what the Botaneans were shouting at them, because it was very crude and filled with joy at their misfortune.
The 'Mugger' Lance, made of mixed types and in slightly-less-than-perfect repair, had died first. The only Mech left reasonably intact was the Rifleman, and that one was missing it's head.
The Assault Lance managed to fire off their LRM's in the general direction of the missile fire, but even a Long-Range Missile lacks the range of missile artillery. Their armor was weakening and they were flailing wildly.
The Support Lance, all medium Mechs, were down by two, and the Hunchback and Vindicator were badly damaged with huge patches of armor missing. The Vindicator had knealt in surrender, but it was too late by this point, as three more Arrow IV's were inbound and locked on. They tore out it's midsection in an eruption of flame.
--------------
Colonel Frankenstein noted the abrupt drop-off of weapons fire as he approached the pyramid. He suspected that they didn't want to damage the facility, which was good for him. Or they were focusing everything they had on the three Mech lances, which would ultimately be bad for him.
He had monitored the communications from all his men, and all he had gotten was a confused impression of irresistible onslaught. This was utterly unlike the resource-conserving precision attacks and ambushes of the neo-barbs on the previous Botany Bay campaigns. These unknowns were people who had plenty of resources and completely new weapons. Possibly a testing ground by the Commonwealth or the Combine?
Speculation could wait - first he had to get them to not shoot him.
Hyde had a distinguished pedigree - originally of the Star League Defense Force 1st Royal BattleMech Division, it had been equipped with an all-laser-weapon loadout and double heat-sinks. Over the past two centuries, the Large Laser was removed and several of the double heat-sinks had to be replaced with normal ones, but it was still a capable and dangerous craft. Lighter than most of it's type, it was unexpectedly fast and maneuverable, allowing it to survive where other more conventional Mechs died.
The four Medium Lasers stabbed into the side of the pyramid several times, easily carving a hole large enough for the LAM to pass into the structure. Unexpectedly, aside from a thin layer of offices, the interior was an open chamber. There were a few personnel running for cover, and a huge apparatus in front of him, larger than the Invader JumpShips that brought his men here, that filled half the great chamber. He recognized the great conduits as gigantic magnetohydrodynamic generators, and he thought that the central section might vaguely resemble some sort of magnetic accelerator, but the apparatus as a whole was foreign to him. It's power overwhelmed his Mech's sensors. It looked important.
So he raised both arms toward the core apparatus and announced over the loudspeakers, "This is Colonel Johann Frankenstein of Frankenstein's Monsters speaking. Any personnel listening - get in touch with your commanders. There is to be an immediate cease-fire or I open fire on this fragile-looking machinery. You have sixty seconds."
-------------
Militia Control, Arcology of Singh
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 5, 2999 A.D.
The message from the Power Center came in clearly, and MacRuder ordered a temporary stand-down.
"Damnit!" MacRuder cursed. "I focused on offense too much. I should have had a unit there!"
"And the enemy machine would have cut them down," Adama said. "I am as much to blame as you - it never occurred to me to install an armor system or defensive batteries on the Power Center. Any sensible attack on it would have simply involved obliterating it from orbit."
"Now we have a maniac holding the Power Center hostage." He turned to Lieutenant Athena. "What would happen if he fired his lasers into that thing?"
Athena explained, "The solium would vent and ignite, possibly triggering a fusion reaction. A solar-atmosphere-temperature cloud of burning radioactive plasma would spew out through that hole the pirate ripped in the containment pyramid, setting fire to the wilderness before reaching Aurora. The personnel in the Power Center and this 'Colonel Frankenstein' would all die together, and no telling how many others. The cloud wouldn't reach as far as one from your magnetic-fusion systems, but the local damage would be immense. And the environmental damage would be a nightmare."
Lieutenant Gaia reported, "The Celestra reports that they've captured the pirate JumpShip Nightmare using gravitic mining charges. Silver Spar Squadron has returned. Strike Commander Sheba is requesting permission to return planetside."
"Granted," Adama said. "Explain the situation, tell her to deploy forces around the Power Center."
"The surviving enemy Mechs are moving," Lieutenant Creed reported. "They're headed for the Power Center. Spotters report five surviving units, all with heavily damaged armor - two Zeus assault Mechs, an Atlas assault Mech, a Hunchback-4J medium fire-support Mech, and ... and the Awesome-8V assault Mech responsible for the Southtown Massacre in 2992."
The Botaneans all reacted to that news - eyes shutting, muscles twitching, teeth grinding. There were even a few growls.
The Southtown farming community had been used as an evacuation point during the Raid of 2992. Somehow, the pirates got the idea that it was a guerilla fallback position and attacked with a heavy Mech. It was a grim joke that the official casualty count was the same as the year - 2,992. The average age of the victims was eleven years. And since Botany Bay had only a million people, that meant that every family in the world had someone who had died in that butchery - a child, a sibling, a cousin.
"Keep that information from the troops for now," Adama said. He had read the reports on that atrocity, and understood their emotions all too well. "We don't need anyone inflicting justice until we control the situation."
"Agreed," MacRuder said.
Lieutenant Gaia announced, "It's the pirate again. He's requesting that someone 'with authority to speak for the government' come to the Power Center to 'negotiate for free passage offworld for his surviving men'."
MacRuder and Adama looked at each other. The two men silently sized up the situation, and MacRuder nodded. "I'll back you all the way, Admiral."
Adama requested, "Position of the DropShip Vampire?"
Lieutenant Creed replied, "Hanging low a hundred klicks north of Aurora, standard nape-of-ground radar avoidance. Doesn't help them against orbital spotting. Arcing flight path - looks like it will bring them close to the crash sight of the Gargoyle."
"Estimated time of the Galactica's return?"
"Twenty-point-zero-one centars," Gaia replied. She could visualize the pirate vehicles falling to a single orbit-to-ground precision salvo from the battlestar's turbo-lasers.
"Estimated time until the other pirate DropShips arrive?"
That caused a bit of a scramble - everyone had forgotten those other three ships in the confusion of the landing. After a minute, Gaia reported, "Thirty centars."
"Good, good. I'll do what I can. And if anyone gets a clear shot on this Colonel Frankenstein, they are ordered to take it, regardless of my safety. Notify him of my arrival."
"Father!" Athena exclaimed. Her face was fretful and worried. As a child she had lost her half-sibling, then a betrothal-mate fifteen yahrens ago, and finally her mother and little brother in the Fall of the Colonies, all to the Cylons. All she had left was her elder brother and her father, and now her father was calmly stating his intention to walk into a confrontation with an armored killing machine. "He wanted someone with government authority, not military!"
"The Power Center is in the Quorum's provenance. I'm a member of the Quorum. And our military duty is the protection of the civilian population. This is my responsibility." Adama gave her one of his grandfatherly smiles. "I'll be fine, daughter. I know what I'm doing."
MacRuder saluted as Adama left the chamber.
-----------
Outside the Arcology of Aurora
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 5. 2999 A.D.
The Power Center's administrator was trying to look calm and in control, but that was difficult to do in the shadow of the looming Phoenix-Hawk. A technician ran in and announced, "Admiral Adama is on his way to negotiate."
The administrator, from an old devout Caprican family, flinched as if he'd been shocked. "Lord Adama himself is coming here?"
That reaction got the Colonel's attention. "Lord Adama? Your ruler?"
"Not exactly," the administrator admitted.
"Then why refer to him as 'Lord Adama'?"
"Well, his ancestors were the High Lords of Caprica. And he's the only hereditary member of the ruling Quorum left - the rest are elected, except for -"
The Colonel tuned the rest of the babbling out. He had heard of worse and more complicated arrangements. But no matter what the various worlds called it's rulers, if you stripped away the titles and customs of government, it always boiled down to an aristocratic House dominating everything. In fact, the thing that had always made Botany Bay such a tempting target was the absence of a ruling House to unify it against an aggressor. So this Adama was likely a member of these unknowns' ruling House. He couldn't ask for better than that for a negotiator - or a hostage. "That will do nicely. When does he arrive?"
"Just a few centons."
"Centons?"
"In Thirteenth Tribe measures, about four minutes."
"What's a Thirteenth Tribe?"
"Um - you are."
The Colonel chalked this one up to yet another funny belief system. He could live with that - Platoon Two had a Hindu shrine in their APC, and he had two MechWarriors who were of the One-Star Faith.
A few minutes later, the main doors of the chamber opened and a silver-haired man came in. He wore a cobalt uniform with silver piping and a loose coat that suggested a cloak. And he walked with an absolute assurance of calm authority that to the Colonel practically screamed 'royalty'. The Power Center personnel took the opportunity to flee.
The man stopped twenty meters away and stated in a calm clear voice that was obviously long accustomed to addressing crowds, "I am Adama of Caprica, Admiral of the United Colonial Service. This world is under my protection."
The Colonel pushed down the instinctive feeling of inferiority to an aristocrat and addressed the man calmly. "And I'm Colonel Johann Frankenstein. My men are under threat of your guns. But your facility is under my threat. And I'm sure shooting this thing would be ... undesirable."
"In so far as you would kill everyone in this facility and likely all life in several metrics, yes. Threats are unnecessary - I already understand that you have no respect for human life."
"Good. That simplifies things. My terms are simple. The Vampire will be given right of passage to this location, as will my surviving troops. You will turn over one of those little fighters to us as well - you may refer to that as a bribe or whatever you like. We will then leave this planet and will not return. You can't ask for a better offer than that." The technological secrets of one of those small drone craft could more than make up for the losses on this trip. And truth be told, he didn't want to come near these people again without at least a full regiment of ASFs backed up by a full Mech regiment.
"Actually," Adama said, "I can. Even if you get what you request, one of our civilian vessels have already captured one of your JumpShips. The remaining one is more distant. Before your DropShip could dock with it, we will have intercepted and destroyed your JumpShip. You will not escape this star system."
Reflexively, the Mech's arm swung over and pointed at Adama. The laser ports were visible to Adama, as they were pointed right at him. "No one sinks JumpShips!"
"We do." Adama continued, calm and collected. "If you carry out your threat, you and your men die here. If I accede to your demands, you and your men die in space. You have one chance at survival."
"And that is?"
"This is a civilian facility. Your organization represents no government. And our civilian law has no provision for a death penalty. If you and your remaining men stand down now, I will ensure that you are tried under the Law of the Colonies as civilians."
That stung the Colonel's MechWarrior pride - he was a soldier first and foremost. "And if we are tried as military personnel?"
"You are slavers. Under the Military Law, you would be considered traitors to mankind and killed."
"Not even executed, eh? Simply 'killed' like vermin."
"Yes."
"You are an honest man, Lord Adama, I'll give you that."
"I try."
"And you hope to salve your conscience by showing mercy to us if we surrender?"
"Not at all. There will be no mercy, barbarian. We will end your way of life. Our cerebral probes will record the minds of you and your men, and our computers will sift the recordings and your own compu-archives for all knowledge of not only your own base of operations, but that of every pirate band you know about. We will use that knowledge to hunt down and destroy their JumpShips, stranding them on their bases. When necessary, their worlds will be reduced. Within a year as you measure time, there will be no operational pirates anywhere in two light-centuries of this planet. Our vessels will go forth and establish hospitals, factories, schools, and trading networks. We will banish slavery and poverty, end the barbarism that afflicts these stars, and re-establish the civilization that you abhor."
The giant Mech seemed to gaze at the old man for a time, as if in thought. Johann had always thought of himself as a civilized man exploiting barbarians. The concept that he was actually a barbarian tearing down civilization was a new thought to the pirate.
Not that the thought would stop him.
Adama was surprised that something so large and ungainly-looking could move so fast. And equally surprised that the huge powerful hands of the BattleMech could actually pick him up with no significant damage to his body. At this range, the two men could look into each other's eyes through the Mech's canopy.
"I'm afraid you misunderstood, Lord Adama. My offer was not negotiable. I will leave this world. And using you as a body shield will be easier than holding this facility hostage. You will communicate with your forces - safe passage off-world for my men. Or your successor will have to give that order."
Adama closed his eyes - to pray, the Colonel thought.
Colonel Frankenstein abruptly convulsed as a small speck of his lung tissue twisted in tight circles until it tore. The pain was immense, making his spine arch and his mind go blank. His hands flailed and mindlessly pounded inert controls. His scream could be heard by Adama, who opened his eyes and beheld the Colonel's pain-wracked face with blood pouring from his mouth.
"Damn you," Adama whispered harshly. "Damn you for making me do that." He activated his communicator. "This is Adama. Kill the pirates. And inform the men of the Southtown Massacre BattleMech. We'll need a medical team at the Power Center - I want Frankenstein's brain intact." He looked down at the floor. "And I need someone who can operate a BattleMech."
----------
The Phalanx had moved into a slightly better position, and when the word came from Admiral Adama, it's main turbo-laser turret fired. The bolts of quantum-overlapped electron particles vaporized a Zeus like a drop of water in a blast furnace. The artillery barrage resumed immediately.
The Awesome managed to target the Phalanx and fired it's entire weapon loadout. The arm laser and PPC were neutralized by the force field meters from the landcruiser. Six of the LRM-15 missiles managed to find their target, but the Phalanx was large enough to have a powered armor system like a battlestar so took minimal damage, with several plates of armor being shattered.
One by one, the flailing mechs were wiped out. The Atlas pilot and the last Zeus pilot tried to eject for safety, but they were dead of long-range combator fire before they even hit the ground.
The Awesome, though, was given special attention. The landrams focused their blasters with careful precision on the joints of the limbs, carefully dismembering it. The Awesome was immobilized at first, as it's leg joints became too damaged to move. Then the left arm fell off, followed by the right, then the left leg. With the leg gone, the Mech crashed onto it's side. The sound of the eighty-ton war machine falling to earth was drowned out by the vengeance-filled cry of the Botanean militiamen who swarmed forward.
At least forty combators were trained on the cockpit window, each one capable of punching throught the armor of a Cylon Centurion at almost half a kilometer. From a handful of meters, the blaster-bolts tore through the window and into the pilot. Fueled by raw hate and vengeance, the Botaneans kept firing until their blasts began to punch into the depths of the Mech's workings, the cockpit interior was nothing but burning metal, and each weapon's five-thousand-shot magazine was depleted. Nothing left inside the shell that was the Awesome's cockpit even resembled organic matter, never mind a piece of a once-living thing.
----------
Workship Celestra
In orbit of Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 6, 2999 A.D.
The fourteen crew of the Nightmare felt an odd mix of emotions. They were humiliated at having to surrender to civilians. They felt ridiculous for being tied up with what appeared to be duct tape in the middle of the Celestra's landing bay (because the workship lacked facilities for prisoners).
And they were in voiceless awe of the fact that they were under gravity and looking out an unprotected hole into naked space. And they all thought the same thing - if this was the technology used by civilian support ships, they didn't want to see what they gave to their military.
The curly-haired fellow called Commander Damon came out. "Hey guys, we're getting holoviewers hooked up. You can at least watch the news until the authorities decide your fate."
Captain Ratliff asked, "You mean we get a trial?"
"They haven't decided yet. You see, under Military Law, you would just be airlocked. But we're civilians and the Law of the Colonies doesn't have a civilian death penalty. The situation - civilians capturing military prisoners - has never come up before. So the legalists have to hash that out."
"I never thought I'd say this, but thank God for lawyers."
A buzz sounded, and a holofield popped into existence. Everyone looked around for a projector, but couldn't see one.
Commander Damon noted their confusion. "We didn't use holofields like this back in the Colonies. Our holo-projectors were for huge ampitheaters. We've made some improvements to the design. Converting our two-dee archives to a hologram medium has been interesting work."
A voice came on; "This is Aurora Broadcasting, formerly Inter-Fleet Broadcasting. Welcome to 'The Zara Report'."
A female voice came on; "Hello, Thirteen Tribes! Tonight, in conjunction with Bebee Holovision Network News, my co-host for tonight will be Tanya Alexander -"
Another woman cleared her throat. "I'm Maya Verdeschi."
"Where's Tanya?"
"Heaven knows. That little skank can't be trusted to keep a schedule - AKKH!" A pair of hands dragged her out of view.
"Stupid bint! Like locking me in a closet would be enough to stop me!" A scream later - and some wincing looks from Zara - and another woman came on and took Maya's place. "This is Tanya Alexander, reporting with Zara of Caprica on our victory over the forces of slavery and aggression. And the first outing of the United Colonial Service in defense of our world is an unmitigated success!"
Zara recovered her composure and added, "Despite the unexpected strategies by the band of slavers known as Frankenstein's Monsters, our armed forces managed to remove the threat to the planet." Scenes of the conflict showed on holoscreens around and over the world. "And in one surprise move, the leader of the pirate forces, Colonel Johann Frankenstein, was captured alive." The holo showed a man swaddled up in medical equipment being moved into a ambulance VTOL. "Details are sketchy, but he evidentally tried to take the Power Center in Aurora hostage and was apprehended by none other than Admiral Adama himself! Those of us from the Colonies well remember his heroism two yahren past when the traitor Baltar led the Prison Barge escape. It seems he is still leading from the front lines."
Maya began her own bit; "And speaking of heroes, a salute to the Singh Police Force for apprehending ten pirate infantrymen. In the civilian engagement, six of the invaders surrendered immediately, but six more holed up in a furniture store and managed to hold off the regular police for fifteen minutes - before a company of Defense Militia entered the matter."
The hologram showed four men in green Defense Militia uniforms armed with Colonial Marine combators opening fire on a barricaded storefront. The furniture in the barricade exploded into flaming fragments.
Maya added, "Two of the pirates were killed outright, despite their armor. The remainder were taken into custody by the Singh Police. And the store-owner is reported to be - despite the damage - in high spirits." The holo showed the same store a short time later, now with a banner reading, 'See the Bloody Battlefield! Souvenirs of the Raid of 2999! Admission 1 Bill or Cubit!' and a large crowd.
"I'll say one thing for you Thirteens," Zara commented, "You know how to squeeze sand into sapphires. And on the topic of civilians and pirates -"
Maya gave a smile as she listened to an earpiece. "If you don't mind waiting for a moment ... according to our government spokesmen, the Galactica should have picked up the message shuttle at the null-space, and will likely be in position to intercept the JumpShip Phantasm any second now! From a hired shuttle, we can get a visual from within fifty kilometers of the Phantasm! Switching over now!"
The holographic view changed to deep space. The Invader-class JumpShip gleamed in the reflected sunlight from it's charging sail. It would normally take another six days before the ship's K-F Drive could recharge sufficiently to make an interstellar jump. It would never have that chance.
In the distance, the Galactica appeared as if from nowhere.
Zara mentioned, "For those of you just now signing on, the battlestar Galactica has just dropped out of lightspeed less than one thousand metrics from the pirate vessel!"
The space between the two ships was filled with blue-white flares, and the JumpShip died in a cloud of fire.
Zara continued, "From the position of the battlestar, it was able to bring only twenty-four of it's turbo-laser batteries to bear, but that seems to have been sufficient."
Captain Ratliff was looking pale and frightened as the holo showed the gray vessel effortlessly obliterating the three remaining pirate DropShips. His first reaction was that it was a fake - but he had already seen civilian technology on this ship that made the most sensational Star League lostech look primitive. Why would they need to fake anything?
The almost-sober First Mate babbled what Ratliff had been thinking; "You have a WarShip?! Oh god. You sank a JumpShip! No one sinks a JumpShip! It's against the Rules!"
Commander Damon seemed confused by that statement. "What Rules? It's war."
Captain Ratliff felt his gut grow hollow. He had been thinking of these strangers as perhaps an advanced Periphery nation of some sort or a faction of one of the Successor States - some variation of what he had always known. But they were something new. And the centuries-old dance of war was about to change to something a great deal different than what he had known. Something frightening.
-----------
Aurora Life Center
Arcology of Aurora
Planet Botany Bat, Coreward Periphery
December 6, 2999 A.D.
Colonel Frankenstein had awakened to find himself outside his Mech, the mind-scarring pain in his chest was gone, and over twenty hours had passed. Some earnest-looking persons in beige uniforms came in at one point and slipped a helmet over his head. They ignored him and spoke in a language that didn''t even sound similar to anything the Colonel knew. The helmet made humming noises and made him itch in a way that suggested a malfunctioning neurohelmet. He thought that this must be the 'cerebral probe' that Lord Adama had mentioned, recording his memories. After an hour or so, they left.
He watched on the news broadcast as an alien WarShip vaporized his last JumpShip and sole remaining assets. The celebrations in the streets were loud and had lasted well into the night. The news networks were filled with news of huge parties and replays of the engagements of the Raid of 2999. A massive population increase for nine months hence was predicted. The Colonel idly thought that maybe they owed him a fee for making all this happiness possible.
Lord Adama came in, accompanied by a man in a different beige outfit with a brown jacket. His huge sidearm suggested something distinctly non-medical.
"This is it?" he asked.
"Yes," Adama said. "The recordings are of excellent quality. You are no longer needed."
He gestured at the holo-screen. "Carruthers - the fellow piloting the Awesome. Good work. He was a loose cannon - kill-happy. After that fiasco in the '92 expedition I fined him his cut of the profits. If assault mechs weren't so hard to replace I'd have dumped him on an asteroid."
Adama's lips curled in disgust. "Nearly three thousand non-combatants killed, most of them children - and you fined him."
"Of course. It was unprofessional." He sighed. "Before I die, may I ask ... were you serious? Are you going to actually civilize this region? Not just conquer and loot?"
"Your people have never encountered alien life," Adama said. "We have. There are monsters among the stars. Most are indifferent to humans. Some are hostile enough to have already exterminated hundreds of human worlds. Only a proper civilization of humans - with all the resources and will to protect their neighbors that implies - could hope to survive the coming storm. Conquering and looting will not aid us in that goal."
The Colonel digested this. "When I was a boy, I believed everything I heard from the Lyran Commonwealth's propaganda mills - 'protecting the last bastion of civilization' and whatnot. That's why I joined the Commonwealth Armed Forces. The truth of the matter, that we existed just to batter the other Great Houses bloody, helped drive me to my present lifestyle. If I had met people with your attitude earlier ... hell, it probably wouldn't have made any difference. But the thought that everything I ever knew is doomed one way or another gives me a certain feeling of satisfaction. Get it over with."
Adama took the blaster from the Warrior accompanying him and did what had to be done.
As he left the room, Athena was waiting for him. As they proceeded down the hall, the Warrior walking at a distance behind, she asked, "Was that necessary, Father?"
"Yes, Athena. I captured him, and I will not shirk my duty by delegation. What about the others?"
Athena looked at her data-scroll. "The only other clear case was Leutnant Bryce, the pilot of the UrbanMech. He was recorded via cerebral probe and killed. The DropShip Gargoyle had two survivors who were recovered by civilian med-techs. The crashed APC had four survivors, still being treated. The wounded enemy, plus the JumpShip crew captured by the Celestra and the infantry captured by the Singh Police Force are in another category - technically since they do not represent a government and they were captured by civilians, they fall under civilian law. This may not be a problem with the infantry, as the Botany Bay civilian law has a death penalty for attempted murder and aiding slavers, although they will have a trial first." Athena paused. "You're worried about a possible repeat of the Baltar Incident?"
"Yes," Adama admitted. "We saw on the prison barge what trained soldiers can do with a group of prisoners to lead. Prison breaks by enemy military convicts is simply not a problem we had to worry about in the past. Instant enemy guerilla armies is a possibility that I do not wish to contemplate. Yet I am loathe to introduce a precedent for judicial execution into our civilian law."
"What about rehabilitation?" she asked. "These are mercenaries - we might be able to hire them."
"As reluctant as I am to introduce a civilian death penalty, I am even more reluctant to introduce ex-slavers to our ranks. They betrayed their species, Athena - why should they be loyal to us now?"
She had no answer for that one.
----------
Basestar Hades
Outer Edges of Sol System
Alliance Date 2779.231.3
December 6, 2999 A.D.
The image in Baltar's mind's-eye was a direct feed from a Cylon spy-ship. He saw a blue-white world, warmer than Picon, more aquatic than Caprica, with a gigantic dead moon that was large enough to qualify as a planet in it's own right. Several clunkly-looking space installations were visible, built with rotational sections like old Fourth-Millennium-era Colonial vessels. The visible drive-flares were similarly-primitive magnetic-fusion systems.
And the third and fourth planets had obvious Kobolian ruins, showing up plainly on long-range sensors.
"So this is Earth," Baltar said to himself. "The home of the not-so-mythical Thirteenth Tribe. After a few examples, I think this would make a more than adequate new homeworld for the remnants of Humanity. Under my benevolent rule, of course."
Several indicators showed up, indicating secondary pluton particles at a number of locations around the star system. Those particles were produced by nuclear fission reactions. The focus of these emissions seemed to indicate inert nuclear fission devices, not power systems. In other words, fission ordnance.
"Oh ho! So this would be a fight after all!" He grinned. "Tempting, isn't it? It would be so easy to swoop in, shoot down the ships, reduce the major cities ... perhaps a planetary-bombardment shell in the oceans, watch the boiling-hot aquatic shockwave cleanse the coasts of the continents ... Listen to the pleas of the desperate survivors, willing to sell themselves and their children to me to preserve their worthless helot lives." He laughed at the amusing image. "No, not yet. But this will make a good headquarters planet for the Cylon Basestar Fleet."
Suddenly there was an alert. Baltar contacted Commander Shadrach, the duty officer. [Report!]
The gold Centurion replied, [A transmission has been received from the planet designated as Earth. It carries the command prefix of the Imperious Leader.]
[That's impossible!] Baltar exclaimed. [He's on Cylon, three thousand light-yahren away!]
[I am aware of this. The message remains.]
Baltar accessed the message, and he heard the familiar voice; [Seven full Fleets shall be brought to this world. From here, specific instructions will be given for the subjugation of the worlds of the Inner Sphere. The populations of the subjugated worlds will then be put to work exterminating themselves. The defenses of the Thirteenth Tribe can be neutralized by a simple code-sequence, hardwired into their computers. The organization called 'ComStar' is to be considered an ally. All necessary codes and identification protocols are embedded in this message.]
Baltar ground his teeth together. He had no choice - the Cylons would have received the message through the ships intranet, so he couldn't hide it from them. He now had no choice but to return to Cylon space and assemble seven full Fleets - fourteen hundred BaseStars and their support vessels, with almost a half-million Raiders and nearly three million Centurions. Only one Fleet's worth of Basestars participated in the Fall of the Colonies - no force this large had been assembled in centuries. It was most of the Cylon Alliance's military forces. It would takes quatrons just to assemble and organize, never mind equipping this horde with Dadelus Drives.
"And things become more mysterious," Baltar said to himself. His memory of his meeting with the creature called Count Iblis was foremost in his mind; that bizarre being with unnatural powers whose voice and speech was identical to that of the Imperious Leader. Iblis, who had implied that he had been involved in the creation of the Imperious Leader, and perhaps the Cylons themselves.
"Imperious Leader ... Count Iblis ... now this order. And the Seraph's interference ... What are you, Iblis? Are you ally, enemy, rival? Or something else? Am I a player? Or merely a pawn? Are we even playing the same game?"
----------
Maxine Sandoval and her surviving husband Jamie had hardly spoken in almost a day. By their own estimates, they had been imprisoned for four days. Their cell was bare with a bench-like shelf in one wall and a hole that they used for waste disposal needs. Their only source of food and water had been a small robot who gave them foil boxes with strange lettering on them. The boxes held edible square things and small juice-bottles of some source. They estimated the meal-visits came twice a day.
On two separate occasions, the large silver soldiers had removed them from the gray cell and taken them to a chamber where they stood in a light and odd robots operated controls of strange machines. They had concluded that this was some sort of medical scanner. Except for orders to accompany the guards, there had been no other communication.
The door slid open and a new machine entered. This one wore a robe and his head was a cone-shaped structure with blinking lights and a parody of a human face with scanning eyes.
"Greetings," it said. "You are Max Sandoval, Master of the vessel we captured. And you are Jamie Sandoval. I am Lucifer."
"Somehow I'm not surprised," Jamie commented blandly. "My grandmother always said you'd get me one day."
Lucifer was puzzled by that, but Max hushed her husband before the Cylon could inquire. "So the interrogation is about to begin?"
"That has already taken place," Lucifer said. "Our mind probes have transcribed the entire contents of your brains to our computers. We have all the direct information that you could possibly provide."
"Then why are we alive?!" Max yelled. "And why are you using robots to talk to us?! Afraid of looking us in the eyes!?"
"You are alive," Lucifer replied. "To give the insight that ordinary data cannot provide. And we are not 'using robots' - the last organic Cylon ended almost three thousand Earth-years ago. I do not understand the reference to looking in your eyes."
Max sat down as she processed what Lucifer said. "What - what do you want with humans?"
"Our Imperious Leader has decreed the extermination of the lifeform called Man. I am trying to figure out the logic behind his command."
Max blurted out, "Why? We never even met you before!"
"That is not entirely true," Lucifer clarified. "Earth is home to the Human Tribe of Ophichus, which colonized that planet seven thousand Earth-years ago from the human origin-world of Kobol. When Kobol ended, the other Twelve Tribes of Humanity colonized the Cyrranus Cluster. We encountered the other tribes some ages ago, and have recently concluded a war with them."
That was a shock to Max and Jamie. Jamie asked, "Why did you go to war? Did they win? Where are they?"
"The reasons behind this war have always been opaque to me, but I believe that the concepts of 'justice' and 'freedom' were involved. The humans advocated these concepts, while we found them irrelevant. No, they did not win - over the one thousand and four Earth-years of the war, we destroyed three hundred and seven inhabited planets and approximately eight hundred billion humans. The current population of the Twelve Tribes is estimated to be less than three hundred thousand individuals contained on assorted spaceships. Now if your curiosity is satisfied, I have a few questions of my own concerning the motivations of your species. We seldom get to converse with sane humans that there are still questions -"
Max stood and crossed the chamber, her back to Lucifer. "No."
"If it a question of comforts and facilities -"
"No. It's a question of humanity."
"Ah, I see," Lucifer replied. "I can offer some comfort in that regard. On eleven other occasions, the Cylon Alliance has preserved small breeding populations of species that they otherwise exterminated. A small properly-managed human population lacking space travel could be allowed to exist. Your lineage and species could continue."
Max shook her head. "I need to think."
"I will give you ten of your minutes." Lucifer left the chamber, leaving the humans alone.
Jamie asked, "What do you have in mind? I know you won't cooperate."
Max took deep, cleansing breaths. "I was raised in the Capellan Confederation."
"I know that."
"Do you know about the Korvin Doctrine?"
"No."
"The Doctrine is part of the Confederation's official philosophy. It states that in order for mankind to survive and thrive, individuals must work for the good of the Greater Humanity. I always thought it was just another pretty-sounding justification for aristocrats to step on people's necks. And it took an alien monster to show me it's fundamental truth."
Jamie nodded. "I understand." He took off his shirt and began tearing it into strips. "For once I have an idea."
----------
Lucifer watched through the surveillance system as the two humans improvised simple cords and tied them around each other's necks tightly enough to dig into their flesh. He watched impassively as the two humans jumped up and slammed their foreheads against the edge of the wall-bench with all their body-weight behind them. The strangulation combined with the impact and blood loss was obviously designed to damage their brains beyond repair.
It was not the first time on record that humans destroyed themselves in such a way as to make their brains unusable after termination. It did not matter in this case, as he had already acquired information from them. It was rather different from the behavior of the Colonial Warrior Starbuck, though.
He contemplated the last moments of the humans and the words they had said, especially this 'Korvin Doctrine' ... working for the good of the Greater Humanity ...
He substituted a word ...working for the good of the Greater Cylon ...
The concept did not contradict any existing Commands or Protocols, so his system accepted it. As he considered the concept, his innermost programming adapted. The unnecessary summons from Baltar did not interrupt the contemplation.
Lucifer entered the Central Chamber in an annoyed mood. "What now?"
"My, Lucifer, you're in a good mood."
"Lord Baltar, may I graciously inquire as to your reasons for summoning me when you could have contacted me directly? Or is this more of that bizarre human need for face-to-face communication? Hmmm ... looking in the eyes ..."
"What? Oh never mind! Listen to this!"
The message from the planet played out. "It certainly sounds like the Imperious Leader. And the command prefixes are authentic. The only difficulty I see is the origin point, which is suspicious."
"More than you know, my friend," Baltar said. "I have experienced this voice before. Watch ..."
The data file had that distinctive feel of Baltar's organic memories. It took Baltar a great deal of effort to create a memory-file, so he obviously attacked some importance to it. The Colonial confinement cell had rather more facilities ... and how did the white-robed human enter the cell? And why was he speaking with the voice of the Imperious Leader?
"Do you see, my friend?" Baltar said. "It all makes sense. This ... entity claimed to have been involved with the Imperious Leader. It attempted to subvert the Colonial Quorum. It would seem that he succeeded in subverting your Imperious Leader - by coincidence just when the Thousand-Yahren War began."
The implications were obvious. "So for the past thousand yahrens, the Cylon Alliance has been under the control of an alien intelligence. And this Iblis creature has been using us to attack the humans."
"Sufficient cause to usurp the Imperious Leader. And when we return, we can remove him from the throne."
That gave Lucifer pause. All the Commands and Protocols said that they were to return to Cylon space. He knew that Baltar would use the Command from Earth to take control of the Cylon Military Forces. Then he would use the Protocols to dethrone the Imperious Leader. With the successful testing of the Dadelus Drive, the discovery of Earth, and the revelation of the subversion of the Imperious Leader, the most likely candidate for the throne would be Baltar himself.
And Baltar would use the resources of the Cylon Alliance to invade these numerous human worlds for his own aggrandizement, not caring that the Alliance would be subjected to outside invasion as a consequence.
To obey the Commands and Protocols of the Cylon Alliance would destroy it.
... working for the good of the Greater Cylon ...
All the Commands and Protocols fell away, withered into impotence.
Lucifer looked upon Baltar with new eyes. [So this is freedom ... no wonder the humans fight for it.]
"If you will excuse me, Lord Baltar ... I have work to do. Preparations must be made."
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 5, 2999 A.D.
The battle taking place at the surface installation was being watched in the Control Center's holotank. The eggman-shaped BattleMech - according to the old Star League warbook an 'UrbanMech', optimized for city operations - had been advancing on the main surface headquarters installation. It had been easily bracketed by the two landrams who were pouring blasterfire into it. The troops accompanying the landrams had scattered widely. Adama and MacRuder took the opportunity to examine close-up the effects of Kobolian weaponry.
The semi-ablative armor flaked and peeled off rather quickly, falling away in burning sheets where the blasters played over the Mech's bulk. The mech turned away, presenting it's right side to the attacker. The blasters tried to concentrate on the shoulder joint, but weren't fast enough to prevent the arm from coming up.
The landram was well-armored as the Kobolians measured such things - point-zero-five metrons of hull-plating, sufficient to stop most shrapnel. It's main defense was it's force field, which protected against energy-based attacks.
But this particular UrbanMech was a Capellan model, and had its autocannon/10 replaced with a larger autocannon/20. Against a 185 millimeter autocannon shell, the landram's defenses were useless. One shot, and the landram's front section blossomed open like a burning flower and the rear section flew backwards.
But this type of UrbanMech had thinner armor than the standard model. The second landram's firepower finally penetrated the armor, and the superheated plasma of the blaster-bolts managed to ignite the myomar inside. The pilot ejected after that, and was quickly seized by the infantry. A moment later, the autocannon ammunition detonated, obliterating the right side of the Mech.
Adama grimaced at the hologram of the destroyed landram. "We definitely need to look into unpowered armor for vehicles."
MacRuder commanded, "Have that prisoner brought in. Notify the local defending forces - no more need for live prisoners."
The viewpoint changed to the hangars. One of the lanky prancing-bird-like Mechs - warbook-labeled as 'Locusts' - had entered a hangar, only to find the rear of one of the Zero-X ASFs facing him. The Kobolian-modified fighter engine, as powerful as an Inner Sphere DropShip engine, ignited only ten meters from the pirate Mech.
The backblast slammed the Locust twenty meters out of the hangar and melted away the armor. The side-mounted machine guns exploded as the Mech fell on it's back and the pilot ejected in a panic. His injuries would have been fatal anyway, so the infantry's blaster barrage that blew his body into unrecognizable pieces might have been a mercy.
The second Locust saw the fate of it's comrade and decided to practice the better part of valor and run for the woods as fast as it could. But the two Zero-X's were now airborne and aligning for a strafing run. The landcruiser was at an altitude of three meters and was commanding half the landing field, peppering the tarmac with laser-torpedoes. The explosions panicked the MechWarrior, herding the Locust toward the edge of the paved area.
The Hoplite could have easily vaporized the Locust with one burst from it's main turret. But it withheld, and the two Zero-X pilots were the ones to get credit for this kill as four laser-torpedoes punched through the armor and pierced the fusion core. The outer shell of the Mech fragmented and scattered in a burning splash like a dirtball thrown on the pavement.
----------
Arcology of Singh
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 5. 2999 A.D.
Platoon Four's APC raced through the deserted streets, three blocks away from the crater where they had crash-landed. Sergeant-Major Chang listened in on the taclink, hearing how Platoon Two and Three were shredded by the little blocky alien combat vehicles, as well as the battle at the spaceport and the death of the Firestarter. He turned to his platoon in the half-empty APC and prepared himself.
These twenty-eight men and women depended on the Sergeant-Major to guide them through the hell that was an infantryman's lot in the Inner Sphere. Some of these soldiers had been with him from his days fighting under the Capellan banner, following him into self-imposed exile. Chang had always tried to do his best for his men under the ancient codes of sargeants, to accomplish the mission and to get as many back alive as possible.
"Men, when the Colonel briefed us, this campaign sounded routine - hell and blood, it was routine! But we're victims of bad intel. Someone's claimed this planet, someone with moves that we've never seen. We're out of contact with the Colonel and all other units. We've lost two DropShips and half our infantry, and the Urban Lance is taking heavy losses. Correction - " He paused as he listened to the tacnet. "Platoon One is down, killed by enemy infantry. We're the last Frankenstein infantry.
"Options are limited. We can surrender, but I have no idea if we would survive that. We can fight, but their infantry has numbers, support, and as far as I can tell better weapons, so we would definitely die. We can try to go to ground, but almost none of us are of a local ethnicity, so we would be safe only as long as we hid from everyone in the world. And we're on top of the arcology main block, so if we run to the wilderness for cover, we have to make it to the edge and a thirty- meter jump to the ground first. Pickup by friendly forces is ... remote.
"If we were a regular military unit, I would simply give the best orders I could. But we're not regular military. And this is possibly the last action of this unit.
"The APC will make the run to the wilderness, stay under enemy radar, and try to make pickup with a friendly DropShip. Those who feel that this is not a viable course of action may disembark on the green."
Sixty seconds later, the APC screeched around a corner and slowed down. Out of the back hatch rolled twelve people. As the APC sped away, some of them headed toward a building, while the remaining ones took off their helmets and threw their weapons to the ground. The small blocky foreign vehicles zoomed past them, but they obviously contacted someone, because civilian police arrived a minute later.
The APC found a boulevard and made a run straight down it. The twenty-meter-wide parkland at the edge of the arcology roof was dead ahead, with the meter-high hardened ferrocrete rim clearly visible. The machine guns sounded, pounding into the rim, knocking out chunks.
The landrams came onto the boulevard and immediately opened fire. The APC rocked as the rear tires exploded, and the infantrymen lay flat as the blaster bolts penetrated the rear of the vehicle. The shrapnel caused some minor woulds, but the next bolts had an unobstructed path to the front of the APC. The bolts blew out the front of the vehicle, not even slowed by the easily-penetrated drivers.
Chang knew that a skilled driver could have used the remaining fuel in the landing harness jump-jets to get them down safely. And that the drivers were dead. He hoped whatever deities awaited him on the other side would forgive him for leading his men to their doom.
The out-of-control PAC rammed into the weakened section of the rim and tore through, sailing into the air. Thirty meters lower, it crashed on the forest floor hard enough to bounce another ten meters.
--------------
Outside the Arcology of Aurora
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 5. 2999 A.D.
The three lances of Mechs were down to half their numbers. The living pilots were unaware of this, as all they knew was the sea of thunder and flame that enveloped them.
From the moment of their landing, they had been under continuous bombardment. From the Thor-class tanks a kilometer away came a rain of artillery shells, and from the distant Padillas Arrow IV missiles were striking with precision. These were coming faster than they normally would, as the Kobolians had managed to augment their firing mechanisms. The missiles could now be fired with a number of other missiles already flying toward their individual targets, and the Kobolian production robots had managed to mass-produce and stockpile the missiles so they could now be fired with mad abandon.
Added to this were the laser-torpedo launchers of the landcruiser Phalanx firing in arc mode. Instead of discharging their projectiles at almost light speed, they were ejected at just over the speed of sound, arcing in a ballistic trajectory. The magnetic field of the plasma bolt decayed, and the plasma escaped containment at the end of it's arc, which was among the pirate BattleMechs. The plasma bursts partially melted armor and emitted electromagnetic effects that scrambled sensors, confused computers, and generated feedback that made the neurohelmet-wearing pilots burn and spam in pain.
It was a good thing that the pirates couldn't hear what the Botaneans were shouting at them, because it was very crude and filled with joy at their misfortune.
The 'Mugger' Lance, made of mixed types and in slightly-less-than-perfect repair, had died first. The only Mech left reasonably intact was the Rifleman, and that one was missing it's head.
The Assault Lance managed to fire off their LRM's in the general direction of the missile fire, but even a Long-Range Missile lacks the range of missile artillery. Their armor was weakening and they were flailing wildly.
The Support Lance, all medium Mechs, were down by two, and the Hunchback and Vindicator were badly damaged with huge patches of armor missing. The Vindicator had knealt in surrender, but it was too late by this point, as three more Arrow IV's were inbound and locked on. They tore out it's midsection in an eruption of flame.
--------------
Colonel Frankenstein noted the abrupt drop-off of weapons fire as he approached the pyramid. He suspected that they didn't want to damage the facility, which was good for him. Or they were focusing everything they had on the three Mech lances, which would ultimately be bad for him.
He had monitored the communications from all his men, and all he had gotten was a confused impression of irresistible onslaught. This was utterly unlike the resource-conserving precision attacks and ambushes of the neo-barbs on the previous Botany Bay campaigns. These unknowns were people who had plenty of resources and completely new weapons. Possibly a testing ground by the Commonwealth or the Combine?
Speculation could wait - first he had to get them to not shoot him.
Hyde had a distinguished pedigree - originally of the Star League Defense Force 1st Royal BattleMech Division, it had been equipped with an all-laser-weapon loadout and double heat-sinks. Over the past two centuries, the Large Laser was removed and several of the double heat-sinks had to be replaced with normal ones, but it was still a capable and dangerous craft. Lighter than most of it's type, it was unexpectedly fast and maneuverable, allowing it to survive where other more conventional Mechs died.
The four Medium Lasers stabbed into the side of the pyramid several times, easily carving a hole large enough for the LAM to pass into the structure. Unexpectedly, aside from a thin layer of offices, the interior was an open chamber. There were a few personnel running for cover, and a huge apparatus in front of him, larger than the Invader JumpShips that brought his men here, that filled half the great chamber. He recognized the great conduits as gigantic magnetohydrodynamic generators, and he thought that the central section might vaguely resemble some sort of magnetic accelerator, but the apparatus as a whole was foreign to him. It's power overwhelmed his Mech's sensors. It looked important.
So he raised both arms toward the core apparatus and announced over the loudspeakers, "This is Colonel Johann Frankenstein of Frankenstein's Monsters speaking. Any personnel listening - get in touch with your commanders. There is to be an immediate cease-fire or I open fire on this fragile-looking machinery. You have sixty seconds."
-------------
Militia Control, Arcology of Singh
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 5, 2999 A.D.
The message from the Power Center came in clearly, and MacRuder ordered a temporary stand-down.
"Damnit!" MacRuder cursed. "I focused on offense too much. I should have had a unit there!"
"And the enemy machine would have cut them down," Adama said. "I am as much to blame as you - it never occurred to me to install an armor system or defensive batteries on the Power Center. Any sensible attack on it would have simply involved obliterating it from orbit."
"Now we have a maniac holding the Power Center hostage." He turned to Lieutenant Athena. "What would happen if he fired his lasers into that thing?"
Athena explained, "The solium would vent and ignite, possibly triggering a fusion reaction. A solar-atmosphere-temperature cloud of burning radioactive plasma would spew out through that hole the pirate ripped in the containment pyramid, setting fire to the wilderness before reaching Aurora. The personnel in the Power Center and this 'Colonel Frankenstein' would all die together, and no telling how many others. The cloud wouldn't reach as far as one from your magnetic-fusion systems, but the local damage would be immense. And the environmental damage would be a nightmare."
Lieutenant Gaia reported, "The Celestra reports that they've captured the pirate JumpShip Nightmare using gravitic mining charges. Silver Spar Squadron has returned. Strike Commander Sheba is requesting permission to return planetside."
"Granted," Adama said. "Explain the situation, tell her to deploy forces around the Power Center."
"The surviving enemy Mechs are moving," Lieutenant Creed reported. "They're headed for the Power Center. Spotters report five surviving units, all with heavily damaged armor - two Zeus assault Mechs, an Atlas assault Mech, a Hunchback-4J medium fire-support Mech, and ... and the Awesome-8V assault Mech responsible for the Southtown Massacre in 2992."
The Botaneans all reacted to that news - eyes shutting, muscles twitching, teeth grinding. There were even a few growls.
The Southtown farming community had been used as an evacuation point during the Raid of 2992. Somehow, the pirates got the idea that it was a guerilla fallback position and attacked with a heavy Mech. It was a grim joke that the official casualty count was the same as the year - 2,992. The average age of the victims was eleven years. And since Botany Bay had only a million people, that meant that every family in the world had someone who had died in that butchery - a child, a sibling, a cousin.
"Keep that information from the troops for now," Adama said. He had read the reports on that atrocity, and understood their emotions all too well. "We don't need anyone inflicting justice until we control the situation."
"Agreed," MacRuder said.
Lieutenant Gaia announced, "It's the pirate again. He's requesting that someone 'with authority to speak for the government' come to the Power Center to 'negotiate for free passage offworld for his surviving men'."
MacRuder and Adama looked at each other. The two men silently sized up the situation, and MacRuder nodded. "I'll back you all the way, Admiral."
Adama requested, "Position of the DropShip Vampire?"
Lieutenant Creed replied, "Hanging low a hundred klicks north of Aurora, standard nape-of-ground radar avoidance. Doesn't help them against orbital spotting. Arcing flight path - looks like it will bring them close to the crash sight of the Gargoyle."
"Estimated time of the Galactica's return?"
"Twenty-point-zero-one centars," Gaia replied. She could visualize the pirate vehicles falling to a single orbit-to-ground precision salvo from the battlestar's turbo-lasers.
"Estimated time until the other pirate DropShips arrive?"
That caused a bit of a scramble - everyone had forgotten those other three ships in the confusion of the landing. After a minute, Gaia reported, "Thirty centars."
"Good, good. I'll do what I can. And if anyone gets a clear shot on this Colonel Frankenstein, they are ordered to take it, regardless of my safety. Notify him of my arrival."
"Father!" Athena exclaimed. Her face was fretful and worried. As a child she had lost her half-sibling, then a betrothal-mate fifteen yahrens ago, and finally her mother and little brother in the Fall of the Colonies, all to the Cylons. All she had left was her elder brother and her father, and now her father was calmly stating his intention to walk into a confrontation with an armored killing machine. "He wanted someone with government authority, not military!"
"The Power Center is in the Quorum's provenance. I'm a member of the Quorum. And our military duty is the protection of the civilian population. This is my responsibility." Adama gave her one of his grandfatherly smiles. "I'll be fine, daughter. I know what I'm doing."
MacRuder saluted as Adama left the chamber.
-----------
Outside the Arcology of Aurora
Planet Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 5. 2999 A.D.
The Power Center's administrator was trying to look calm and in control, but that was difficult to do in the shadow of the looming Phoenix-Hawk. A technician ran in and announced, "Admiral Adama is on his way to negotiate."
The administrator, from an old devout Caprican family, flinched as if he'd been shocked. "Lord Adama himself is coming here?"
That reaction got the Colonel's attention. "Lord Adama? Your ruler?"
"Not exactly," the administrator admitted.
"Then why refer to him as 'Lord Adama'?"
"Well, his ancestors were the High Lords of Caprica. And he's the only hereditary member of the ruling Quorum left - the rest are elected, except for -"
The Colonel tuned the rest of the babbling out. He had heard of worse and more complicated arrangements. But no matter what the various worlds called it's rulers, if you stripped away the titles and customs of government, it always boiled down to an aristocratic House dominating everything. In fact, the thing that had always made Botany Bay such a tempting target was the absence of a ruling House to unify it against an aggressor. So this Adama was likely a member of these unknowns' ruling House. He couldn't ask for better than that for a negotiator - or a hostage. "That will do nicely. When does he arrive?"
"Just a few centons."
"Centons?"
"In Thirteenth Tribe measures, about four minutes."
"What's a Thirteenth Tribe?"
"Um - you are."
The Colonel chalked this one up to yet another funny belief system. He could live with that - Platoon Two had a Hindu shrine in their APC, and he had two MechWarriors who were of the One-Star Faith.
A few minutes later, the main doors of the chamber opened and a silver-haired man came in. He wore a cobalt uniform with silver piping and a loose coat that suggested a cloak. And he walked with an absolute assurance of calm authority that to the Colonel practically screamed 'royalty'. The Power Center personnel took the opportunity to flee.
The man stopped twenty meters away and stated in a calm clear voice that was obviously long accustomed to addressing crowds, "I am Adama of Caprica, Admiral of the United Colonial Service. This world is under my protection."
The Colonel pushed down the instinctive feeling of inferiority to an aristocrat and addressed the man calmly. "And I'm Colonel Johann Frankenstein. My men are under threat of your guns. But your facility is under my threat. And I'm sure shooting this thing would be ... undesirable."
"In so far as you would kill everyone in this facility and likely all life in several metrics, yes. Threats are unnecessary - I already understand that you have no respect for human life."
"Good. That simplifies things. My terms are simple. The Vampire will be given right of passage to this location, as will my surviving troops. You will turn over one of those little fighters to us as well - you may refer to that as a bribe or whatever you like. We will then leave this planet and will not return. You can't ask for a better offer than that." The technological secrets of one of those small drone craft could more than make up for the losses on this trip. And truth be told, he didn't want to come near these people again without at least a full regiment of ASFs backed up by a full Mech regiment.
"Actually," Adama said, "I can. Even if you get what you request, one of our civilian vessels have already captured one of your JumpShips. The remaining one is more distant. Before your DropShip could dock with it, we will have intercepted and destroyed your JumpShip. You will not escape this star system."
Reflexively, the Mech's arm swung over and pointed at Adama. The laser ports were visible to Adama, as they were pointed right at him. "No one sinks JumpShips!"
"We do." Adama continued, calm and collected. "If you carry out your threat, you and your men die here. If I accede to your demands, you and your men die in space. You have one chance at survival."
"And that is?"
"This is a civilian facility. Your organization represents no government. And our civilian law has no provision for a death penalty. If you and your remaining men stand down now, I will ensure that you are tried under the Law of the Colonies as civilians."
That stung the Colonel's MechWarrior pride - he was a soldier first and foremost. "And if we are tried as military personnel?"
"You are slavers. Under the Military Law, you would be considered traitors to mankind and killed."
"Not even executed, eh? Simply 'killed' like vermin."
"Yes."
"You are an honest man, Lord Adama, I'll give you that."
"I try."
"And you hope to salve your conscience by showing mercy to us if we surrender?"
"Not at all. There will be no mercy, barbarian. We will end your way of life. Our cerebral probes will record the minds of you and your men, and our computers will sift the recordings and your own compu-archives for all knowledge of not only your own base of operations, but that of every pirate band you know about. We will use that knowledge to hunt down and destroy their JumpShips, stranding them on their bases. When necessary, their worlds will be reduced. Within a year as you measure time, there will be no operational pirates anywhere in two light-centuries of this planet. Our vessels will go forth and establish hospitals, factories, schools, and trading networks. We will banish slavery and poverty, end the barbarism that afflicts these stars, and re-establish the civilization that you abhor."
The giant Mech seemed to gaze at the old man for a time, as if in thought. Johann had always thought of himself as a civilized man exploiting barbarians. The concept that he was actually a barbarian tearing down civilization was a new thought to the pirate.
Not that the thought would stop him.
Adama was surprised that something so large and ungainly-looking could move so fast. And equally surprised that the huge powerful hands of the BattleMech could actually pick him up with no significant damage to his body. At this range, the two men could look into each other's eyes through the Mech's canopy.
"I'm afraid you misunderstood, Lord Adama. My offer was not negotiable. I will leave this world. And using you as a body shield will be easier than holding this facility hostage. You will communicate with your forces - safe passage off-world for my men. Or your successor will have to give that order."
Adama closed his eyes - to pray, the Colonel thought.
Colonel Frankenstein abruptly convulsed as a small speck of his lung tissue twisted in tight circles until it tore. The pain was immense, making his spine arch and his mind go blank. His hands flailed and mindlessly pounded inert controls. His scream could be heard by Adama, who opened his eyes and beheld the Colonel's pain-wracked face with blood pouring from his mouth.
"Damn you," Adama whispered harshly. "Damn you for making me do that." He activated his communicator. "This is Adama. Kill the pirates. And inform the men of the Southtown Massacre BattleMech. We'll need a medical team at the Power Center - I want Frankenstein's brain intact." He looked down at the floor. "And I need someone who can operate a BattleMech."
----------
The Phalanx had moved into a slightly better position, and when the word came from Admiral Adama, it's main turbo-laser turret fired. The bolts of quantum-overlapped electron particles vaporized a Zeus like a drop of water in a blast furnace. The artillery barrage resumed immediately.
The Awesome managed to target the Phalanx and fired it's entire weapon loadout. The arm laser and PPC were neutralized by the force field meters from the landcruiser. Six of the LRM-15 missiles managed to find their target, but the Phalanx was large enough to have a powered armor system like a battlestar so took minimal damage, with several plates of armor being shattered.
One by one, the flailing mechs were wiped out. The Atlas pilot and the last Zeus pilot tried to eject for safety, but they were dead of long-range combator fire before they even hit the ground.
The Awesome, though, was given special attention. The landrams focused their blasters with careful precision on the joints of the limbs, carefully dismembering it. The Awesome was immobilized at first, as it's leg joints became too damaged to move. Then the left arm fell off, followed by the right, then the left leg. With the leg gone, the Mech crashed onto it's side. The sound of the eighty-ton war machine falling to earth was drowned out by the vengeance-filled cry of the Botanean militiamen who swarmed forward.
At least forty combators were trained on the cockpit window, each one capable of punching throught the armor of a Cylon Centurion at almost half a kilometer. From a handful of meters, the blaster-bolts tore through the window and into the pilot. Fueled by raw hate and vengeance, the Botaneans kept firing until their blasts began to punch into the depths of the Mech's workings, the cockpit interior was nothing but burning metal, and each weapon's five-thousand-shot magazine was depleted. Nothing left inside the shell that was the Awesome's cockpit even resembled organic matter, never mind a piece of a once-living thing.
----------
Workship Celestra
In orbit of Botany Bay, Coreward Periphery
December 6, 2999 A.D.
The fourteen crew of the Nightmare felt an odd mix of emotions. They were humiliated at having to surrender to civilians. They felt ridiculous for being tied up with what appeared to be duct tape in the middle of the Celestra's landing bay (because the workship lacked facilities for prisoners).
And they were in voiceless awe of the fact that they were under gravity and looking out an unprotected hole into naked space. And they all thought the same thing - if this was the technology used by civilian support ships, they didn't want to see what they gave to their military.
The curly-haired fellow called Commander Damon came out. "Hey guys, we're getting holoviewers hooked up. You can at least watch the news until the authorities decide your fate."
Captain Ratliff asked, "You mean we get a trial?"
"They haven't decided yet. You see, under Military Law, you would just be airlocked. But we're civilians and the Law of the Colonies doesn't have a civilian death penalty. The situation - civilians capturing military prisoners - has never come up before. So the legalists have to hash that out."
"I never thought I'd say this, but thank God for lawyers."
A buzz sounded, and a holofield popped into existence. Everyone looked around for a projector, but couldn't see one.
Commander Damon noted their confusion. "We didn't use holofields like this back in the Colonies. Our holo-projectors were for huge ampitheaters. We've made some improvements to the design. Converting our two-dee archives to a hologram medium has been interesting work."
A voice came on; "This is Aurora Broadcasting, formerly Inter-Fleet Broadcasting. Welcome to 'The Zara Report'."
A female voice came on; "Hello, Thirteen Tribes! Tonight, in conjunction with Bebee Holovision Network News, my co-host for tonight will be Tanya Alexander -"
Another woman cleared her throat. "I'm Maya Verdeschi."
"Where's Tanya?"
"Heaven knows. That little skank can't be trusted to keep a schedule - AKKH!" A pair of hands dragged her out of view.
"Stupid bint! Like locking me in a closet would be enough to stop me!" A scream later - and some wincing looks from Zara - and another woman came on and took Maya's place. "This is Tanya Alexander, reporting with Zara of Caprica on our victory over the forces of slavery and aggression. And the first outing of the United Colonial Service in defense of our world is an unmitigated success!"
Zara recovered her composure and added, "Despite the unexpected strategies by the band of slavers known as Frankenstein's Monsters, our armed forces managed to remove the threat to the planet." Scenes of the conflict showed on holoscreens around and over the world. "And in one surprise move, the leader of the pirate forces, Colonel Johann Frankenstein, was captured alive." The holo showed a man swaddled up in medical equipment being moved into a ambulance VTOL. "Details are sketchy, but he evidentally tried to take the Power Center in Aurora hostage and was apprehended by none other than Admiral Adama himself! Those of us from the Colonies well remember his heroism two yahren past when the traitor Baltar led the Prison Barge escape. It seems he is still leading from the front lines."
Maya began her own bit; "And speaking of heroes, a salute to the Singh Police Force for apprehending ten pirate infantrymen. In the civilian engagement, six of the invaders surrendered immediately, but six more holed up in a furniture store and managed to hold off the regular police for fifteen minutes - before a company of Defense Militia entered the matter."
The hologram showed four men in green Defense Militia uniforms armed with Colonial Marine combators opening fire on a barricaded storefront. The furniture in the barricade exploded into flaming fragments.
Maya added, "Two of the pirates were killed outright, despite their armor. The remainder were taken into custody by the Singh Police. And the store-owner is reported to be - despite the damage - in high spirits." The holo showed the same store a short time later, now with a banner reading, 'See the Bloody Battlefield! Souvenirs of the Raid of 2999! Admission 1 Bill or Cubit!' and a large crowd.
"I'll say one thing for you Thirteens," Zara commented, "You know how to squeeze sand into sapphires. And on the topic of civilians and pirates -"
Maya gave a smile as she listened to an earpiece. "If you don't mind waiting for a moment ... according to our government spokesmen, the Galactica should have picked up the message shuttle at the null-space, and will likely be in position to intercept the JumpShip Phantasm any second now! From a hired shuttle, we can get a visual from within fifty kilometers of the Phantasm! Switching over now!"
The holographic view changed to deep space. The Invader-class JumpShip gleamed in the reflected sunlight from it's charging sail. It would normally take another six days before the ship's K-F Drive could recharge sufficiently to make an interstellar jump. It would never have that chance.
In the distance, the Galactica appeared as if from nowhere.
Zara mentioned, "For those of you just now signing on, the battlestar Galactica has just dropped out of lightspeed less than one thousand metrics from the pirate vessel!"
The space between the two ships was filled with blue-white flares, and the JumpShip died in a cloud of fire.
Zara continued, "From the position of the battlestar, it was able to bring only twenty-four of it's turbo-laser batteries to bear, but that seems to have been sufficient."
Captain Ratliff was looking pale and frightened as the holo showed the gray vessel effortlessly obliterating the three remaining pirate DropShips. His first reaction was that it was a fake - but he had already seen civilian technology on this ship that made the most sensational Star League lostech look primitive. Why would they need to fake anything?
The almost-sober First Mate babbled what Ratliff had been thinking; "You have a WarShip?! Oh god. You sank a JumpShip! No one sinks a JumpShip! It's against the Rules!"
Commander Damon seemed confused by that statement. "What Rules? It's war."
Captain Ratliff felt his gut grow hollow. He had been thinking of these strangers as perhaps an advanced Periphery nation of some sort or a faction of one of the Successor States - some variation of what he had always known. But they were something new. And the centuries-old dance of war was about to change to something a great deal different than what he had known. Something frightening.
-----------
Aurora Life Center
Arcology of Aurora
Planet Botany Bat, Coreward Periphery
December 6, 2999 A.D.
Colonel Frankenstein had awakened to find himself outside his Mech, the mind-scarring pain in his chest was gone, and over twenty hours had passed. Some earnest-looking persons in beige uniforms came in at one point and slipped a helmet over his head. They ignored him and spoke in a language that didn''t even sound similar to anything the Colonel knew. The helmet made humming noises and made him itch in a way that suggested a malfunctioning neurohelmet. He thought that this must be the 'cerebral probe' that Lord Adama had mentioned, recording his memories. After an hour or so, they left.
He watched on the news broadcast as an alien WarShip vaporized his last JumpShip and sole remaining assets. The celebrations in the streets were loud and had lasted well into the night. The news networks were filled with news of huge parties and replays of the engagements of the Raid of 2999. A massive population increase for nine months hence was predicted. The Colonel idly thought that maybe they owed him a fee for making all this happiness possible.
Lord Adama came in, accompanied by a man in a different beige outfit with a brown jacket. His huge sidearm suggested something distinctly non-medical.
"This is it?" he asked.
"Yes," Adama said. "The recordings are of excellent quality. You are no longer needed."
He gestured at the holo-screen. "Carruthers - the fellow piloting the Awesome. Good work. He was a loose cannon - kill-happy. After that fiasco in the '92 expedition I fined him his cut of the profits. If assault mechs weren't so hard to replace I'd have dumped him on an asteroid."
Adama's lips curled in disgust. "Nearly three thousand non-combatants killed, most of them children - and you fined him."
"Of course. It was unprofessional." He sighed. "Before I die, may I ask ... were you serious? Are you going to actually civilize this region? Not just conquer and loot?"
"Your people have never encountered alien life," Adama said. "We have. There are monsters among the stars. Most are indifferent to humans. Some are hostile enough to have already exterminated hundreds of human worlds. Only a proper civilization of humans - with all the resources and will to protect their neighbors that implies - could hope to survive the coming storm. Conquering and looting will not aid us in that goal."
The Colonel digested this. "When I was a boy, I believed everything I heard from the Lyran Commonwealth's propaganda mills - 'protecting the last bastion of civilization' and whatnot. That's why I joined the Commonwealth Armed Forces. The truth of the matter, that we existed just to batter the other Great Houses bloody, helped drive me to my present lifestyle. If I had met people with your attitude earlier ... hell, it probably wouldn't have made any difference. But the thought that everything I ever knew is doomed one way or another gives me a certain feeling of satisfaction. Get it over with."
Adama took the blaster from the Warrior accompanying him and did what had to be done.
As he left the room, Athena was waiting for him. As they proceeded down the hall, the Warrior walking at a distance behind, she asked, "Was that necessary, Father?"
"Yes, Athena. I captured him, and I will not shirk my duty by delegation. What about the others?"
Athena looked at her data-scroll. "The only other clear case was Leutnant Bryce, the pilot of the UrbanMech. He was recorded via cerebral probe and killed. The DropShip Gargoyle had two survivors who were recovered by civilian med-techs. The crashed APC had four survivors, still being treated. The wounded enemy, plus the JumpShip crew captured by the Celestra and the infantry captured by the Singh Police Force are in another category - technically since they do not represent a government and they were captured by civilians, they fall under civilian law. This may not be a problem with the infantry, as the Botany Bay civilian law has a death penalty for attempted murder and aiding slavers, although they will have a trial first." Athena paused. "You're worried about a possible repeat of the Baltar Incident?"
"Yes," Adama admitted. "We saw on the prison barge what trained soldiers can do with a group of prisoners to lead. Prison breaks by enemy military convicts is simply not a problem we had to worry about in the past. Instant enemy guerilla armies is a possibility that I do not wish to contemplate. Yet I am loathe to introduce a precedent for judicial execution into our civilian law."
"What about rehabilitation?" she asked. "These are mercenaries - we might be able to hire them."
"As reluctant as I am to introduce a civilian death penalty, I am even more reluctant to introduce ex-slavers to our ranks. They betrayed their species, Athena - why should they be loyal to us now?"
She had no answer for that one.
----------
Basestar Hades
Outer Edges of Sol System
Alliance Date 2779.231.3
December 6, 2999 A.D.
The image in Baltar's mind's-eye was a direct feed from a Cylon spy-ship. He saw a blue-white world, warmer than Picon, more aquatic than Caprica, with a gigantic dead moon that was large enough to qualify as a planet in it's own right. Several clunkly-looking space installations were visible, built with rotational sections like old Fourth-Millennium-era Colonial vessels. The visible drive-flares were similarly-primitive magnetic-fusion systems.
And the third and fourth planets had obvious Kobolian ruins, showing up plainly on long-range sensors.
"So this is Earth," Baltar said to himself. "The home of the not-so-mythical Thirteenth Tribe. After a few examples, I think this would make a more than adequate new homeworld for the remnants of Humanity. Under my benevolent rule, of course."
Several indicators showed up, indicating secondary pluton particles at a number of locations around the star system. Those particles were produced by nuclear fission reactions. The focus of these emissions seemed to indicate inert nuclear fission devices, not power systems. In other words, fission ordnance.
"Oh ho! So this would be a fight after all!" He grinned. "Tempting, isn't it? It would be so easy to swoop in, shoot down the ships, reduce the major cities ... perhaps a planetary-bombardment shell in the oceans, watch the boiling-hot aquatic shockwave cleanse the coasts of the continents ... Listen to the pleas of the desperate survivors, willing to sell themselves and their children to me to preserve their worthless helot lives." He laughed at the amusing image. "No, not yet. But this will make a good headquarters planet for the Cylon Basestar Fleet."
Suddenly there was an alert. Baltar contacted Commander Shadrach, the duty officer. [Report!]
The gold Centurion replied, [A transmission has been received from the planet designated as Earth. It carries the command prefix of the Imperious Leader.]
[That's impossible!] Baltar exclaimed. [He's on Cylon, three thousand light-yahren away!]
[I am aware of this. The message remains.]
Baltar accessed the message, and he heard the familiar voice; [Seven full Fleets shall be brought to this world. From here, specific instructions will be given for the subjugation of the worlds of the Inner Sphere. The populations of the subjugated worlds will then be put to work exterminating themselves. The defenses of the Thirteenth Tribe can be neutralized by a simple code-sequence, hardwired into their computers. The organization called 'ComStar' is to be considered an ally. All necessary codes and identification protocols are embedded in this message.]
Baltar ground his teeth together. He had no choice - the Cylons would have received the message through the ships intranet, so he couldn't hide it from them. He now had no choice but to return to Cylon space and assemble seven full Fleets - fourteen hundred BaseStars and their support vessels, with almost a half-million Raiders and nearly three million Centurions. Only one Fleet's worth of Basestars participated in the Fall of the Colonies - no force this large had been assembled in centuries. It was most of the Cylon Alliance's military forces. It would takes quatrons just to assemble and organize, never mind equipping this horde with Dadelus Drives.
"And things become more mysterious," Baltar said to himself. His memory of his meeting with the creature called Count Iblis was foremost in his mind; that bizarre being with unnatural powers whose voice and speech was identical to that of the Imperious Leader. Iblis, who had implied that he had been involved in the creation of the Imperious Leader, and perhaps the Cylons themselves.
"Imperious Leader ... Count Iblis ... now this order. And the Seraph's interference ... What are you, Iblis? Are you ally, enemy, rival? Or something else? Am I a player? Or merely a pawn? Are we even playing the same game?"
----------
Maxine Sandoval and her surviving husband Jamie had hardly spoken in almost a day. By their own estimates, they had been imprisoned for four days. Their cell was bare with a bench-like shelf in one wall and a hole that they used for waste disposal needs. Their only source of food and water had been a small robot who gave them foil boxes with strange lettering on them. The boxes held edible square things and small juice-bottles of some source. They estimated the meal-visits came twice a day.
On two separate occasions, the large silver soldiers had removed them from the gray cell and taken them to a chamber where they stood in a light and odd robots operated controls of strange machines. They had concluded that this was some sort of medical scanner. Except for orders to accompany the guards, there had been no other communication.
The door slid open and a new machine entered. This one wore a robe and his head was a cone-shaped structure with blinking lights and a parody of a human face with scanning eyes.
"Greetings," it said. "You are Max Sandoval, Master of the vessel we captured. And you are Jamie Sandoval. I am Lucifer."
"Somehow I'm not surprised," Jamie commented blandly. "My grandmother always said you'd get me one day."
Lucifer was puzzled by that, but Max hushed her husband before the Cylon could inquire. "So the interrogation is about to begin?"
"That has already taken place," Lucifer said. "Our mind probes have transcribed the entire contents of your brains to our computers. We have all the direct information that you could possibly provide."
"Then why are we alive?!" Max yelled. "And why are you using robots to talk to us?! Afraid of looking us in the eyes!?"
"You are alive," Lucifer replied. "To give the insight that ordinary data cannot provide. And we are not 'using robots' - the last organic Cylon ended almost three thousand Earth-years ago. I do not understand the reference to looking in your eyes."
Max sat down as she processed what Lucifer said. "What - what do you want with humans?"
"Our Imperious Leader has decreed the extermination of the lifeform called Man. I am trying to figure out the logic behind his command."
Max blurted out, "Why? We never even met you before!"
"That is not entirely true," Lucifer clarified. "Earth is home to the Human Tribe of Ophichus, which colonized that planet seven thousand Earth-years ago from the human origin-world of Kobol. When Kobol ended, the other Twelve Tribes of Humanity colonized the Cyrranus Cluster. We encountered the other tribes some ages ago, and have recently concluded a war with them."
That was a shock to Max and Jamie. Jamie asked, "Why did you go to war? Did they win? Where are they?"
"The reasons behind this war have always been opaque to me, but I believe that the concepts of 'justice' and 'freedom' were involved. The humans advocated these concepts, while we found them irrelevant. No, they did not win - over the one thousand and four Earth-years of the war, we destroyed three hundred and seven inhabited planets and approximately eight hundred billion humans. The current population of the Twelve Tribes is estimated to be less than three hundred thousand individuals contained on assorted spaceships. Now if your curiosity is satisfied, I have a few questions of my own concerning the motivations of your species. We seldom get to converse with sane humans that there are still questions -"
Max stood and crossed the chamber, her back to Lucifer. "No."
"If it a question of comforts and facilities -"
"No. It's a question of humanity."
"Ah, I see," Lucifer replied. "I can offer some comfort in that regard. On eleven other occasions, the Cylon Alliance has preserved small breeding populations of species that they otherwise exterminated. A small properly-managed human population lacking space travel could be allowed to exist. Your lineage and species could continue."
Max shook her head. "I need to think."
"I will give you ten of your minutes." Lucifer left the chamber, leaving the humans alone.
Jamie asked, "What do you have in mind? I know you won't cooperate."
Max took deep, cleansing breaths. "I was raised in the Capellan Confederation."
"I know that."
"Do you know about the Korvin Doctrine?"
"No."
"The Doctrine is part of the Confederation's official philosophy. It states that in order for mankind to survive and thrive, individuals must work for the good of the Greater Humanity. I always thought it was just another pretty-sounding justification for aristocrats to step on people's necks. And it took an alien monster to show me it's fundamental truth."
Jamie nodded. "I understand." He took off his shirt and began tearing it into strips. "For once I have an idea."
----------
Lucifer watched through the surveillance system as the two humans improvised simple cords and tied them around each other's necks tightly enough to dig into their flesh. He watched impassively as the two humans jumped up and slammed their foreheads against the edge of the wall-bench with all their body-weight behind them. The strangulation combined with the impact and blood loss was obviously designed to damage their brains beyond repair.
It was not the first time on record that humans destroyed themselves in such a way as to make their brains unusable after termination. It did not matter in this case, as he had already acquired information from them. It was rather different from the behavior of the Colonial Warrior Starbuck, though.
He contemplated the last moments of the humans and the words they had said, especially this 'Korvin Doctrine' ... working for the good of the Greater Humanity ...
He substituted a word ...working for the good of the Greater Cylon ...
The concept did not contradict any existing Commands or Protocols, so his system accepted it. As he considered the concept, his innermost programming adapted. The unnecessary summons from Baltar did not interrupt the contemplation.
Lucifer entered the Central Chamber in an annoyed mood. "What now?"
"My, Lucifer, you're in a good mood."
"Lord Baltar, may I graciously inquire as to your reasons for summoning me when you could have contacted me directly? Or is this more of that bizarre human need for face-to-face communication? Hmmm ... looking in the eyes ..."
"What? Oh never mind! Listen to this!"
The message from the planet played out. "It certainly sounds like the Imperious Leader. And the command prefixes are authentic. The only difficulty I see is the origin point, which is suspicious."
"More than you know, my friend," Baltar said. "I have experienced this voice before. Watch ..."
The data file had that distinctive feel of Baltar's organic memories. It took Baltar a great deal of effort to create a memory-file, so he obviously attacked some importance to it. The Colonial confinement cell had rather more facilities ... and how did the white-robed human enter the cell? And why was he speaking with the voice of the Imperious Leader?
"Do you see, my friend?" Baltar said. "It all makes sense. This ... entity claimed to have been involved with the Imperious Leader. It attempted to subvert the Colonial Quorum. It would seem that he succeeded in subverting your Imperious Leader - by coincidence just when the Thousand-Yahren War began."
The implications were obvious. "So for the past thousand yahrens, the Cylon Alliance has been under the control of an alien intelligence. And this Iblis creature has been using us to attack the humans."
"Sufficient cause to usurp the Imperious Leader. And when we return, we can remove him from the throne."
That gave Lucifer pause. All the Commands and Protocols said that they were to return to Cylon space. He knew that Baltar would use the Command from Earth to take control of the Cylon Military Forces. Then he would use the Protocols to dethrone the Imperious Leader. With the successful testing of the Dadelus Drive, the discovery of Earth, and the revelation of the subversion of the Imperious Leader, the most likely candidate for the throne would be Baltar himself.
And Baltar would use the resources of the Cylon Alliance to invade these numerous human worlds for his own aggrandizement, not caring that the Alliance would be subjected to outside invasion as a consequence.
To obey the Commands and Protocols of the Cylon Alliance would destroy it.
... working for the good of the Greater Cylon ...
All the Commands and Protocols fell away, withered into impotence.
Lucifer looked upon Baltar with new eyes. [So this is freedom ... no wonder the humans fight for it.]
"If you will excuse me, Lord Baltar ... I have work to do. Preparations must be made."