A little later than planned, I present the climax tot he BAttle for Terra, and my longest chapter to date at 4500 words or so:
Deicide
Cavil’s Basestar, Terran Orbit
The appearance of God’s own starship changed everything for Cavil. His plan, to allow the humans and the loyalist Cylons to batter each other before he made his bid for independence would no longer work. With a third player on the field he needed a new strategy. His first thought, in typical pragmatic fashion, was to join with the other Cylons and God in destroying the humans and
then turn on God. But he was intelligent enough to quickly realise that this was unworkable.
As the shattered Cylon fleet sped to God’s side to regroup, Cavil was thinking feverishly, trying to deduce God’s motive for appearing here and now. He had been very clear when He had last spoken with them, shortly after the Resurrection Ship was destroyed: do not contact him again until the humans were all dead. Then Cavil recalled something God had let slip once, something about “The Others.” Perhaps, he mused as his ship pulled alongside God’s, these “Others” have attacked God, forced him to come and gather His servants. It was something to ponder as Cavil activated the communications link with God’s ship (and that was another amusing indication that Cavil was right in his doubts: what use did
God have for a starship after all).
The hologram appeared. Only years of practice allowed Cavil to conceal his shock. God looked
tired. His face, that damnable human face, was strained, the usual fetching goatee looked slightly unkempt, the hair untended. And the eyes…they still glowed malevolently, but some indefinable quality was missing. The voice however, that was worse than usual; the normal anger and power was undercut by something else…
fear.
”Well my children? Why are these humans not dust and vapour by now?”
Cavil stepped forward. He knew that one way or another this would be his last talk with God.
No, he corrected himself
this being, not God.
“My lord, the humans have resisted far more effectively than we feared. They used massive nuclear weapons to annihilate our fighter force, they made repeated wild charges through our lines, smashing countless ships as they went. They out-fought us at every turn. We cannot match their combat experience.”
God did not seem pleased. Cavil braced himself for insults, rage, suicidal orders, anything. What he got instead was something quite different. Resignation.
”Then I will have to destroy them myself. Your ships will escort mine, I will burn these vessels from the stars! Follow!” The hologram disappeared. Cavil turned to the Four and the Five he had been plotting with.
“Now is our chance brothers. We have God here, we can destroy him. The humans may even help us kill him and then…” Cavil took on an almost beatific look, his eyes alight with their own fire “…then we will be free!”
The Four looked grimly resigned. This was not what they had planned, but there was no other choice. The Five was more uncertain, and surprised Cavil by voicing his doubts.
“This is not what we planned. Turning on the devout fools, yes, fleeing to our own destiny yes. Now you suggest we open fire on God Himself! You know full well our ship cannot match His! And why the hell would the
humans help us?”
Cavil nodded, they were all good points. Luckily, he had an answer. He tapped a quick message into his console and sent it out to one of the Colonial Battlestars, in the clear. “We are two ships to his one. This is our best and probably only chance to act. As for the humans? They may not help us, but after the message I have just sent them, they will act against God.”
Five looked down at the message and then closed his eyes for a few seconds, clearly thinking rapidly. He looked back up at Cavil and the Four. “Very well. I would rather die fighting for my own future than a futile death for this God.”
Four nodded as well. Cavil smiled and sent the appropriate orders to the other war-era Basestar, to wait for the word. He also warned the gunners to be ready to fire on the three new-model Basestars.
And then he gave the order.
Battlestar Warspite CIC,
Jellicoe and Beatty had been stunned by the unexpected appearance of the giant ship. Its design was totally alien to them and to the Terrans and its method of travel was new as well; it clearly did not use jump drives. The sensor readings suggested powerful weapons and shields and visual images showed numerous weapon mounts to back up that view.
The Cylons had immediately broken off to regroup around this ship, giving the battered defenders vital breathing room. Shields were recharging swiftly, Vipers were brought aboard for refuelling as quickly as possible and crews took a few moments to breathe deeply and stretch after half an hour of frantic, lethal combat.
As soon as the ship had appeared, Jellicoe had ordered Daniel to CIC. He had a suspicion that this ship was connected with the Cylon’s so-called God and wanted someone with first-hand knowledge available. He was also acutely aware that he was still in overall command: Admiral Lethbridge-Stewart was still unconscious and had yet to land on
Excalibur, and Adama was still missing.
The doors opened and Daniel raced in. He saw the image of the new ship on the screen overhead and stopped dead. All emotion disappeared from his face. Jellicoe had to call his name three times in increasing volume before he responded.
“Sorry Commander….but that’s God’s ship. He’s here.”
Jellicoe and Beatty shared a grim look. But before either of them could speak, Lieutenant Goodenough, the comms officer, called out.
“Sir? We’ve just received a signal from one of the war-ear Basestars. Its basic text, broadcast in the clear and addressed to you sir.” He handed over a printed copy. Jellicoe was thoroughly confused. Beatty jokingly suggested they wanted to surrender, but John doubted it was anything so simple. The message was short and to the point:
TO: Commander, Battlestar Warspite
FROM: Basestar 07-A
The being aboard the new ship is the one we call God. He is the one who gave us sentience, who ordered us to rebel, who ordered the destruction of the Twelve Worlds. He is responsible for the untold billions of deaths in the wars between us. We have learned this and we will take action. We will follow him no longer.
Models One, Four and Five
Jellicoe read the message twice, then showed it to Beatty. The Colonel did the same thing before passing it to Daniel, who also read it and laughed.
“Cavil…the model known as One. He was always the quickest to doubt, and Four and Five? My own model is going along with this? My word, things must be getting exciting over there.”
Jellicoe was about to ask what he meant when Major Smythe called out in surprise:
“Sir! The two old Basestars are firing on the new contact!”
Ba’al’s Ha’tak
The Last of the System Lords was almost incandescent with rage. His servants had failed him yet again and he had to clean up their mess. These humans simply
had to be destroyed but he had precious little time to act. He ordered his ship forwards, with his servants flanking him.
They were almost in range of the humans when his ship was rocked by weapons fire.
“What is going on?” he roared. His ship shook again and again was fire poured against its shields. The Cylon manning the sensor post looked at him in alarm and dread.
“My Lord, the two First War Basestars are firing on us!”
Ba’al had thought himself beyond surprise after the last twelve hours. But this…his own servants firing on him? Impossible! He slammed his hand down on the communications controls. The image of the model called One appeared before him. Beside him were the Four and the Five, both of whom looked resolved. The One however looked positively gleeful.
“How dare you fire upon Me? You will cease fire at once and surrender to my mercy!” The Goa’uld was furious, rage such as he had never known flowed through him. The Cylons looked back defiantly.
”We know what you are, we know what you have done. Everything we hated the humans for; giving us sentience yet enslaving us; giving us life yet sending us to die, all of that was you!
You are no God, you are a monster! We will bow to you no more!” The One looked like some mythic hero; his back straight, his eyes blazing with defiance, he voice shaking with righteous anger.
Ba’al was stunned. His first reaction was to deny it, the second to cut the channel and open fire. But it was his third thought that came to fruition: he activated the remote override he had included in all Cylon ships some months ago when he first began to doubt the wisdom of giving his servants Goa’uld weapons.
The signal went out. The three new-model Basestars promptly shut down, to the shock and terror of their crews. Those Cylons had barely had time to react to the sudden firefight within their formation; the councils aboard each ship had only just begun discussing what was going on when they were plunged into darkness. The ship’s shields dropped, their power plants shut down, the lights and life support failed. Even the Centurions fell into a dormant state.
The two First War vessels likewise received the signal…and nothing happened. Ba’al was incensed yet further when the communications channel did not shut down as he had expected. The One looked down briefly at the data stream before looking back at him.
”We disabled those overrides. I thought you’d try something like that, but thanks for disabling the other ships, they might have turned against us. Now die, you bastard!”
The channel closed. Ba’al’s ship continued to shake, the shields dropping gradually. His Cylon crew, fanatically loyal to him, would not dare act without his orders. Even as the rebel Basestars fire salvo after salvo of plasma bolts into his shields, even as the first volley of naquada warheads that had been launched blossomed into brilliant fireballs, they still had not returned fire.
Ba’al took fully twenty seconds to do anything more than stare, slack-jawed in shock, at the communications screen. Finally, he was roused from his stupor by a particularly rough impact, one that sent showers of sparks cascading to the deck as circuits overloaded.
There was only one order he could give. “Destroy them!”
Battlestar Warspite CIC,
Jellicoe was rapidly thinking. The situation was unprecedented, absurd almost and yet he could not deny the evidence in front of him. The Cylons were apparently firing on each other. Major Smythe continued to update them on the rapidly developing situation.
“Targets Foxtrot-One and Foxtrot-Two are still engaging…missiles launched! Targets Nebulon One through Three appear to have shut down, no shields or active DRADIS detected…unknown contact is opening fire, looks like the same weapons as Foxtrot One and Two. This is frakking
weird.”
Jellicoe could hardly fault the Ops Officer for his less than polite remark. He looked down at the message they’d received, wondering if some of the Cylons really were switching sides. Then he recalled that these two Basestars had been extremely inaccurate so far, in direct contrast to the other refitted Basestars. In fact, not a single direct hit had been scored by them. Almost as if they weren’t trying to hurt them but had to keep up appearances.
The fact remained that this new unknown vessel carried the being responsible for the near-genocide of the Colonies. He now had two sources confirming this and while he didn’t trust the apparently-rebellious Cylon commander in the slightest, he did believe Daniel. He made his choice.
“Get me Apollo and White Knight on a secure channel, right now.”
Goodenough tore his eyes away from the displays and set up the impromptu conference call. He looked over at his commander and confirmed that the line was ready. Jellicoe nodded back and grabbed the phone.
“Gentleman, I have two sources claiming that this new unknown vessel carries the alien being responsible for both the Cylon Insurrection and the genocide of the Colonies. Some of the Cylons seem quite happy to blow it the hell up, so I think we should join in. Apollo, how are your missile tubes loaded?”
There was a brief silence over the encrypted channel before the younger Adama’s voice came back.
”Tubes one through twelve are loaded with enhanced ship to ship missiles, same as you. You really want to get involved in this Iron Duke?”
Captain Pendragon spoke next.
“I have to agree with Apollo, why not sit it out?
Jellicoe answered, with a hint of steel in his voice. “Because gentleman we have them between two fires. We can blast this son of a bitch back to whatever hell it came from and finish the Cylon bastards at the same time. We attack. And since I’m in command, you can consider that a direct order.”
Pendragon sighed audibly.
“I understand that John, but if we wait…”
Jellicoe cut him off, but his tone softened somewhat. “Arthur, this is the being responsible for thirty-one billion deaths during the Fall. Not to mention the three and a half billion casualties of the last war. I
will not pass up this opportunity. He’s also the one responsible for
Barham and all the destroyers going down.”
Pendragon was silent for a few moments. He’d known Captain North for many years, and the chance to avenge him was tempting indeed. “
Very well Commander. What’s the plan?”
Jellicoe smiled, even though the other CO’s couldn’t see it. “Charge up your main batteries, I want a staggered salvo of every available mega-laser once we reach max range. Apollo, on my mark salvo-fire your missiles, with them distracted some should get through. We don’t know how strong this thing is, so we may as well go all in. Unengaged batteries should target the three disabled vessels, let’s finish this.”
Apollo spoke to someone in his CIC briefly before coming back to the channel:
”Prepping missiles for launch, ready in forty seconds. Main battery charged and locked on target. At best formation speed we’ll be at max range in 35 seconds from mark…mark. Unengaged turrets locked on targets.”
Pendragon spoke up:
”Main battery locked on target, ready to fire on your command. All other batteries ready to fire on secondary targets.”
Jellicoe acknowledged the responses as the three Battlestars moved forwards to attack.
Ba’al’s Ha’tak
The ship was shaking continuously now. The Ha’tak was a powerful vessel, but it was up against two similarly powerful ships and had to divide its fire. The initial minute of unanswered fire had depleted the shields noticeably and the ship’s general lack of point-defence weapons meant that every Cylon missile was detonating on the shields rather than being safely intercepted.
It was a bad position, but far from fatal. The Ha’tak’s guns spoke, sending streams of golden plasma to batter at the rebel ships. Gold met blue as the respective salvos crisscrossed the space between the vessels. Cylon shields began to flare and weaken as well. It was a battle of attrition as the three ships exchanged hammer blows at nearly point-blank range.
Towards this melee came the three Battlestars. They had left the remnants of the destroyer squadrons behind with the defence platforms and forged on alone, just as the three
Lionheart’s had done earlier. At twenty seconds from energy range, the bows of the
Pegasus and the
Warspite lit up with plumes of fire and vapour as each ship launched twelve missiles in a rapid sequence. These were the same enhanced missiles the
Warspite had used to such devastating effect months ago.
The missiles raced in, jinking up and down and side to side to evade any counter-missile fire, but none came their way. The target was being particularly cooperative in this case; no defensive fire, no evasive actions, no jamming, nothing. Had they been capable of emotion, the computers controlling the missiles would have been offended at such an easy task.
The Ha’tak may not have been firing on the missiles, but it was taking its toll on the two Cylon vessels. Shield strength was falling rapidly on the second vessel, which had the misfortune of being in sight of the Ha’tak’s heaviest guns. The shields failed completely and three powerful plasma bolts tore into the ship’s lower hanger disc, shredding armour and internal bulkheads with contemptuous ease. Fires swept through the hangers and secondary explosions tore away large portions of the hull, leaving the ship’s lower section with a terrible appearance.
Ten seconds before the missiles were to impact the Ha’tak’s shields, the three Battlestars fired their main batteries in sequence.
Warspite fired first, four beams of red death lancing out and striking the Ha’tak’s shields dead centre. The shields were already strained by the fire from the two Basestars, this new attack from a third angle stretched them even further.
Then
Pegasus fired. Four more mega-laser beams impacted the shields. They flared a brilliant yellow as they absorbed and deflected the incredible energy, but their strength dropped even further, rapidly approaching critical levels. Finally
Excalibur fired, and the shields were on the brink of collapse.
The Cylon manning the weapons station barely had time to shout to his God that shield strength was at five percent when the missile salvo detonated. Twenty four warheads, each yielding two hundred and fifty megatons, made for a terrifying light show in the dark environment of space.
The shields collapsed completely, allowing much of the energy to reach through and burn the hull away. The outer framework emerged with its hull plating totally ablated; countless compartments were opened to space and those unlucky Cylons who hadn’t been immediately killed were hurled out into the void by the decompression.
Ba’al’s ship was heavily damaged; many of its weapons were gone and the two Cylon vessels were still firing, though in one case with considerably fewer weapons than before. Plasma bolts punched deep into the outer framework and central pyramid. Critical systems were damaged beyond repair; the shields, the hyperdrive, life support.
This was not the end of the battle however. At the same time as the Battlestar’s fired their main weapons, the various smaller turbolaser turrets had cut loose at the three adrift Basestars, seizing the opportunity to eliminate the Cylon threat. Salvos of crimson bolts systematically shredded the dormant Cylon vessels. The crews, almost all of whom were still loyal to their God, spent their last moments in the dark as their ships were torn apart around them. Some of them wondered, with their last thoughts, if this is what the Colonials over Caprica and Aerilon and Scorpia had felt.
In just four salvos the disabled Cylon vessels were breaking up. A fifth salvo detonated something critical within two of them, producing huge fireballs that consumed the ships. The third died a much less dramatic death, splitting apart into a dozen large pieces that continued to flame and spark as they drifted apart.
In his command chamber, Cavil looked at the data stream with barely suppressed glee. The humans had done exactly what he had hoped and helped deal a crippling blow to God’s ship. Even now, large parts of the outer framework were being blasted away from the main structure and the central pyramid’s golden hue had given way to craters and huge black scorch marks. The ship was clearly dying, but it was still firing with what few weapons it had left.
The other Basestar had already taken heavy damage, so even the diminished salvo of plasma bolts that struck its central core was enough to finish it off. The first three bolts tore deeper and deeper holes into the armour before the fourth and final bolt penetrated to the ships armoured core and the main reactors. They detonated with titanic force, blasting the wrecked lower disk away from the ship before the fireball voraciously consumed the upper hull. There was enough debris left to be recognisable as a Basestar but that was all.
In his throne room, Ba’al was pacing angrily. His sanity, an always tenuous quality in a Goa’uld, was rapidly slipping away as he came to the realisation that his own creations would destroy him, and very soon. Of the many wild and vengeful thoughts in his mind in these last moments was that this would be recorded as the single worst day in Goa’uld history…if any Goa’uld survived to record it.
His Cylon crew were almost all dead or incapacitated, his ship was shredded, even he was injured. His shoulder was dislocated, courtesy of a surprise encounter with the chamber wall when the nuclear missiles detonated. He stopped his pacing and glared at the sole sensor display that still worked; one of the rebel ships was gone, the other was damaged, but now the cursed humans were firing on him as well.
Ba’al, Last of the System Lords, died with a curse on his lips as a plasma bolt fired from Cavil’s ship tore through the deck where the throne room was located. His host and the symbiote it carried was vaporised too quickly for him to scream.
From Cavil’s Basestar, and from the human Battlestars, the various command crews watched as God died. The uppermost section of the central pyramid now sported a large hole burned clean through it from one face to the opposite edge. A few seconds later several large explosions erupted in the pyramid’s base as various volatile substances detonated under the Cylon plasma fire. The ship finally died in a paroxysm of countless small detonations; the outer framework spun away, its last connections shot through. The central pyramid was blown into twenty or more fragments, several of which exploded shortly after the end of the larger ship.
Cavil was ecstatic. His gambit had worked and God was well and truly dead. The loyalist Cylons were gone as well, except those back on the Homeworld, but they could be dealt with in due course. He was broken from his joyful thoughts when the ship rocked as turbolaser fire struck the shields.
He glared at the displays only to feel his insides freeze. The three Battlestars had turned towards him and the flank batteries were already firing. It seemed their unspoken truce had been temporary and the humans were once again pressing their advantage. He thought rapidly and, seeing no other choice, grabbed the ship to ship comm system and broadcast in the clear:
“Attention Battlestars, this is the Cylon Commander…” he breathed deeply, steeling himself even as weapons fire continued to hit his shields “…we surrender! I repeat, we surrender! Please cease fire immediately!”
There was no answer except more weapons fire. He tried again with the same result. His ships shields were being rapidly drained and he knew it was a matter of seconds before the Battlestars had recharged their impressive main weapons.
The shields reached critical levels as Cavil made one last call, knowing that if this didn’t work he would be dead in very short order. And then, as if by a miracle, the fire stopped. The shaking ended. Cavil looked around at his brothers before a voice came over the speakers. It was as cold as ice:
“
This is Commander John Jellicoe of the Battlestar Warspite
, acting Commander of the Unified Fleet. We have you outnumbered, outgunned and surrounded. That “God” may have given the orders but you bastards still dropped the bombs. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow you frakkers to hell, just like you did to us.”
Cavil looked at the Four and the Five again, silently asking for ideas. Five could offer nothing but a scared expression. Four thought quickly and then rapidly typed something into the data stream so Cavil could see it. He read the message, blinked at the content, realised he had nothing left to try and then pressed the transmit button again:
“Because you are better than us.”
There was silence on the line. The seconds stretched out with painful slowness, the Cylons desperately hoping the last throw of the dice would work. They couldn’t read the bursts of messages between the Battlestars but they knew their existence was being rapidly debated. Finally, after fifty seconds of agonising delay, a response came over the speakers. It began with a heavy sigh and, of all things, a quiet chuckle:
“
I guess you’re right about that. We are
better than you…”
Cavil sagged against the console in relief. The Four had the beginning of a smug grin while the Five looked like he might faint. Their relief was short lived as Jellicoe continued:
“
…after all, we’re not targeting civilians.” The line went dead. Cavil’s expression of relief turned to one of fear as he grasped what Jellicoe had meant. That epiphany would prove to be his last thought.
The
Warspite and the
Pegasus both fired their main batteries. For a final time, the beams of read death struck out from the ship’s bows. The Basestar’s shields were still extremely weak and put up only token resistance, failing within milliseconds. The beams, barely attenuated, slammed into the Basestar’s central core. The hull and skeleton vaporised, the reactors detonated, the magazines and atmosphere ignited, all within fractions of a second. The ship vanished in a brilliant flash, which faded away to reveal that there was nothing left of Cavil and his ship larger than a grain of sand.
The Battle of Terra was finally over and the Cylons were utterly defeated. Jellicoe, Beatty, Lee Adama, Commander Fischer, Captain Pendragon, Captain Stewart, Captain Garrett, all the surviving senior officers sagged at their posts, almost simultaneously. The battle had been short, barely an hour had passed since the Cylons first arrived in the Terran system, but they were all exhausted.
Fate was not done with them quite yet however. As one, the various sensor officers announced a new contact. It appeared much like “God” had done, erupting from a blue-purple…rip in space. It was a completely different design however.
It was based around a thick main hull that was roughly oval in shape and a good thousand metres on its longest axis. The front half narrowed into two prongs whilst the aft had a large cut-out in the hull shape, which was flanked by pillars extending above and below the main hull. These pillars were joined by arc shaped sections that presumably filled some important technological or aesthetic function. Those Terrans or Colonials who had the chance to look at the new contact thought it was a much prettier ship than “God’s” had been.
There was a moment’s pause. The new ship made no attempt to move towards the planet or the Battlestars, nor did it send out any active sensor signals that they could detect. It didn’t appear to do anything in fact. It was just..waiting.
Jellicoe was about to order a standard ship to ship challenge when Smythe called out from his place at Ops:
“Sir, I’ve got something else on the edge of sensor range…” the Major trailed off. Jellicoe came within seconds of turning and banging his head against the wall at the absurdity of so many unknowns in one day when the officer spoke again, delight in his voice:
“…it’s the
Galactica! She survived!”
A cheer broke out in CIC. Jellicoe and Beatty shared a look of profound relief. And then the final shoe dropped. A voice came over the comm speakers, calm, refined and distinctly
not human:
”Greetings. I am Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet aboard the Science Vessel Daniel Jackson
. I come in peace. Both myself and my allies from Earth would like to speak to your leaders.”
=========
Cue closing credits and cliffhanger music...again. I'm a bastard like that aren't I?
Seriously though, the Battle for Terra is finally done, God/Ba'al is dead, Cavil is dead, the Cylons in general are dead.
Galactica has survived! Well, the ship has, no word yet on the crew...mwahahaha...
The Asgard have arrived with SG1, so the crossover can finally begin! And yes, I did steal a line from Star Trek 5. It was a shit film, but the line fits...what
does God need with a starship?
And finally, to Steve and others who mentioned him...see, Goodenough appears! Happy now? I'm not sure how many more Jutland references I can get away with before O'Neill wallops me.
