Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

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Praeothmin
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

Post by Praeothmin »

Chapter 11

James and Kirkinger were both shocked at the comment, and both looked at the Orb’s container with some apprehension.
Looking at the Captain, then at T’Len, James then slowly approached the box, and extended his right hand.
Still unsure, he looked at the Captain and the Cmdr again, noticed the Captain nodding his assent, and opened the box.

“Mother fragger!” He said.
The Orb was an orb in name only, as it was shaped as an hourglass, about one foot tall, and half that width.
It was silvery, shimmering, almost as if it didn’t fully exist on the same reality as James.
But the kicker was that he recognized the substance the Orb was made out of immediately.

“It’s made of Oricalchum!” He finished.

That comment elicited the Captain’s curiosity, as well as the Vulcan’s.

“You’ve seen an Orb before?” He probed.

“No, but I’ve seen the material it’s made of. It’s the most powerful magical material one can find. It’s also what I was holding when I was transported here…” He let the last sentence hang in the air, his puzzlement at the existence of Oricalchum here and now on this ship slowly evaporating as a new thought made its way in his head.
T’Len picked up on James’s line of thought instantly.

“You believe this is the reason you were transported here, and that it may hold the answer to your return home.”

James nodded absently.

“A logical assumption, considering all the gathered evidence.” She continued.

“But before we can explore this venue, we need to contact Starfleet to see what they think of this, and what they want to do with this Orb.” Kirkinger said.
James’s stomach knotted, as he felt certain Starfleet’s orders would be to bring the object to them for further study, delaying his return home.
While he did enjoy his situation, finding himself in the presence of an advanced civilization, full of incredible technology, he was worried for his teammates back in Seattle.
How were they faring now that he was gone.
Had Managuy been injured, or worse, killed after he had disappeared?

So it was with great apprehension that he followed the Captain back to his Ready Room for the call to Starfleet.
He was so eager to know what the decision was going to be, he didn’t take the time to take his armour off before joining the Captain.

When the Captain called Starfleet, he began by telling them of their “guest”, how he had come aboard, and how he had been released and even brought in on a critical Starfleet mission.
That at first hadn’t gone too well with Starfleet Command, but then they had been reminded by the Captain that he had rarely made an error when judging someone’s character and more importantly, neither had his Doctor.
Starfleet relented, and so he told them about the critical mission that had just been completed successfully because of the input of their guest.
The Starfleet Admiral at the other end of the video feed seemed to relax somewhat at that, and moved on to the important matter.
In the end, James’s fears were half confirmed.
The good news was that the Orb would remain on ship for the next day while one of Starfleet’s lead scientists, one Doctor Jeral Not’Yirl, would travel to their location on a Federation high speed transport.
Starfleet could not afford to have the Musashi leave the front lines to bring the Orb to Earth, so it was decided someone would come and get it, and then bring it back to Earth.
So the crew of the Musashi had a full day to examine the object.
The bad news was, as soon as Doctor Not’Yirl arrived, he would take the Orb and get back to Starfleet command with it for prolonged study, taking James’s hopes of getting home with it.
When the communication was over, Captain Kirkinger tapped his communicator and called out to Cmdr T’Len.

“Get to work on a way to get our friend home. You have one day. Let your crew worry about the repairs, they know their job.” The Captain said.

“T’Len here, understood Sir.”

He looked at James.
“Don’t worry James, we’ll get you back to your friends and family.” He said, his voice full of confidence.

“Thank you!” James replied.
“I know this is not your problem, and you have much more important things to do.
I appreciate everything you’re doing and trying to do for me.” He said honestly.
“I want to repay you for your help.
Is there anything I can do?”

Kirkinger looked at James, pensive, and then seemed to think of something.

“Since our technology is far beyond what you are used to, you can’t really help in repairs, and while you do seem to have medical knowledge, there’s no one onboard more qualified in Sickbay than the Doctor, but there is one place where your skills have proven themselves more than adequate, if not simply superior to ours: combat missions, and combat strategies in general.
I’d like you to talk to Cmdr Teramak and help him improve our competence in that area.”

James wasn’t so sure it was a good idea, considering the way Teramak reacted to him.
Sure, they had developed some sort of respect for each other in preparation for the mission James had just completed with the Security Chief’s team, but he had still felt some anger from Teramak towards him during that time.
He decided not to tell the Captain, because he did not want to put the Cmdr in trouble, and increase the resentment Teramak had for him.

“Sure,” He said, “It will be my pleasure. It’s the least I can do for all the kindness you’ve shown me.
If you don’t mind though, I think I’ll take a shower and sleep for a few hours fist.
I think my body needs it.” He said with a smile.
The Captain smiled as well, nodded his ascent, and went back to his work.

James left the Ready room, made his way to his quarters and, once there, stripped out of his armour.
He took a sonic shower and then, before he even went to bed, he used the replicator to repair his damaged armour and then cleaned it, and he stripped and cleaned his guns and replenished his ammo.
Once his equipment was taken care of, he had the replicator prepare him a high protein drink which he consumed, and then he went to bed.
The bed was very comfortable, the foam mattress adapting perfectly to the shape of his body, and so he slept well.
He allowed himself to sleep until fully rested, as he had been awake for more than 38 hours and had been extremely active in that time period.
He knew he wasn’t going to be wasting much time – although he had learned a long time ago that sleep was never a waste of time- because one of the first augmentations he had done on his body was the addition of a modified Pineal gland, also called a Sleep-Regulator gland.
The end result was that he only needed to sleep for four hours for every forty-eight hours of activity, which was very useful in his line of work.
Once rested, he got up, drank another protein drink, put on his repaired and cleaned form-fitting body armour under a layer of ballistic clothing, and called Cmdr Teramak using the Comm-badge he had been given.

“Teramak here!” Was the gruff answer.

“Cmdr, this is James Reynolds. The Captain asked me to offer you my assistance in mission preparations and planning.
He feels my experience would help this crew to be more efficient.”
He waited for a heated retort, an insult, a prideful rebuttal saying they didn’t need his help, so he was surprised when Teramak answered.

“Mr. Reynolds, I would be pleased if you would care to share your knowledge with me and my crew. Your capabilities are held in high regards by the crewmembers who accompanied you on this afternoon’s mission. I too share the Captain’s belief that you would help us greatly in increasing our efficiency and success rate in upcoming missions.
I will await you in the main Security quarters.
Simply ask the computer for directions, it will guide you to us. Teramak out.”

The voice had still been gruff, but the tone had been one of respect.
James truly didn’t know what to think of it.
He exited his quarters, and followed the computer’s indications to the main Security quarters on Deck 5.
He arrived at his destination within minutes, and entered when the doors hissed open as they detected him.
As he entered, he noticed Lt. Harriman was there in company of Cmdr Teramak.

“There’s our Super Soldier!” Harriman exclaimed with a wide grin.
“You’ll be happy to know that Doc is fine, and should be up and running in less than two days, all thanks to you.” He finished with a heavy clap on James’s shoulder.
His eyes widened somewhat as James barely moved under the impact.

“Lt., I was serious when I told the Captain this mission would not have been successful without you and the rest of the team.”
Lt. Harriman beamed at the comment.
“You guys were efficient, and worked well together.
You accepted my commands without any hesitation because you trusted your commanding Officers’ call, and yourselves.
I would gladly go on a mission with you guys anytime, anyplace, because I know I can count on you.” He said, dead serious.
“And that’s something not many can say.
That’s not something you learn in books, or even with an instructor, it’s something you learn by yourself.
Either you’ve got it or you don’t, and you guys definitely do.” He finished.

“First, Sir, since you aren’t a Starfleet officer, it’s Mike, not Lt., and second, your planning and equipment got us there, and your shooting helped us out of very tight spots, so I’d say you had a very big part in this mission’s success.
But I do agree the boys and I did kick some serious Jemmie butt.” He said with a grin.

James kept looking at Teramak while he was talking with Harriman, and noticed that, while his gaze was still stern, the Cmdr no longer seemed angry at James, no longer seemed like he wanted to rip James’s eyes out.
That intrigued him very much, and he decided he wanted to know the reason for it all.

“Ok then, Mike, in that case, since I’m not a Starfleet officer,” He repeated with Mike’s tone, “ You can call me James.
And yes, you guys did kick some serious ass back there.
Now, if I could ask you for a favour: could you leave the Cmdr and me alone for a few minutes?
There are a few things I need to discuss with him.”

Harriman seemed unsure on what to do, so he looked at the Cmdr, who nodded.
“Yeah, sure Si… James!
I’ll be right out if you need me Cmdr.”
And then he left the room.

James didn’t even have time to ask anything, as Teramak started talking as soon as Harriman had left.
“You want to know how I feel about you now, because of my earlier actions and body language, correct?” He asked calmly.

“Well, yes, I am a bit puzzled, I’ll have to admit.
When I woke up in Sick Bay this morning, you were apparently willing to kill me.
That didn’t really unnerve me, not because I felt you weren’t capable,” He added as he thought he saw a flash of anger in the Cmdr’s eyes, which abated as soon as he had clarified his thought, “But because this was something I know and am used to dealing with.”
Teramak almost smiled at that comment.
“But then, the more time passes, the more you seem calm, and unthreatening.
And that I’m not used to.
Why?”

Teramak seemed a bit pensive when he answered.
“As the Captain told you this morning, I am an Andorian, and we are a proud race, a warrior race, not unlike the Klingons when you think about it, even though my people will always deny this truth.
We have pride in our capabilities, and we are eager to show them when we can.
I can tell you in all honesty, I am a very good unarmed fighter, and have fought against Jem’Hadar, Gorn, Cardassians and Klingons alike, and while I have been beaten once or twice, I have never been so utterly crushed as I was this morning.
You injured much more than my body this morning, you injured my pride, and for an Andorian, there is no worse injury.
I was so filled with anger and rage at that beating that, had my Phaser been set to Kill, I am not certain I would have reverted it to Stun when I shot you.
I couldn’t accept the fact you had beaten a team of my best security officers and myself, in addition to the Doctor.”Teramak’s eyes took on a different look when he mentioned the Doctor, so James understood not all the anger had come from the beating he’d given Teramak, but that some of that anger came from the fact he could have hurt the Doctor.
He was unsure what to do of that, because of his own budding feelings for the Doctor.
Teramak continued.
“And when you woke up, so defiant after what you had done, I wanted to go over to your bed and throttle you right there.
But that would not have been honourable, and the Captain might not have liked that.” He half-joked.
“But then I went to my quarters and meditated, using a technique Cmdr T’Len has taught me when I first came aboard.
And I realized where my anger was coming from, and was able to control it somewhat.
Until I was told YOU were going to show US how to do our jobs.
You had trounced me twice in one day.
That was too much for me, and so I came in the Ready Room with every intention to destroy any suggestions you might have, but then I couldn’t, because I realized your plans would increase the chances of survival of my men, and that by participating, you would indeed also boost the success rate of the mission tenfold.
No matter how much anger I felt towards you, I knew that anyone who could defeat us like you did would only increase our chances of success.
And while I am a proud man, over my years in starfleet’s service, I’ve come to care about the people who work with me more than I care about my pride, and I feel it in my gut every time one of them dies.
You see James, these people are now my family, and we Andorians take family very seriously.
And so I owe you for saving them.
When the Captain suggested you could help us train and prepare for upcoming missions, I had been talking to Lt. Harriman about the one you had just completed, and he had given me a full report, so I knew of your contributions, and I knew I wanted your help, and would have asked for it had you not offered.”

Teramak extended his hand to James, and when James shook it, all he could see in Teramak’s eyes was respect and pride.

“I will do my best to teach all I know.” James said.

“I know you will!” Was all Teramak replied.

And so they spent the rest of the evening talking about different types of missions, James explaining how he would plan for it, and when a plan was deemed impractical because of technological issues, James would think a bit and then propose alternatives.
But it wasn’t just James’s plans and proposals that were accepted or listened to.
The big human was impressed by Teramak’s security measures, and realized that, had his men faced an unaugmented opponent in James’s first confrontation with them, they would have prevailed.
James realized that these men and women knew their jobs, but were limited by Starfleet doctrine and regulations in many cases, and in some cases were limited by the absence of such rules and regulations.
The use of armour, for example, widely seen in the 23rd century, was not banned or regulated, it was simply abandoned in peace time, and the peace mentality of Starfleet and the Federation, always afraid to be seen like warmongers, simply kept the concept of armour buried in history.
But Starfleet officers had every right to use them, and so plans for manufacturing of suits of light armour for all Security officers were made.
They would wear a lighter version on the ship, but would wear the full suit on missions.
Since most Starfleet enemies used energy weapons, they decided to use a composite Duranium alloy as the main material, since Duranium was highly energy resistant, and also resistant to physical impacts and projectiles.
This would result in very light, yet very resistant armour.
The only drawback is that the armour would need to be manufactured using the industrial replicators in the main shuttle bays because the suits were extremely power intensive to make, and no standard replicators were up to the job.
They had also decided to manufacture at least a dozen TR-116 rifles, because their extreme range capabilities were quite useful in many cases.
And when Teramak was too tired to continue, James took over the preparations with his blessings.
At first, though, the Cmdr had insisted James also went to bed, since he had been up for some time, and had only slept a few hours in the afternoon.
And while he admitted James didn’t look tired at all, he reminded James that in combat, you always slept when the occasion presented itself, because you never knew when you could sleep next.
So when James told him about his modified sleep gland, requiring James to sleep only four hours every two days, the Cmdr simply shook his head in amused surprise, and left James to work.

The preparations took all night, the “night shift” –so called even though the night and day cycles on any ship were artificial- replacing the “afternoon shift” in helping James.
All of them were surprised, agreeably so, by the new equipment they would use under the new mission and security plans from James and Teramak.
James was finishing the creation of the final armors, when his Comm-badge chirped.

“Cmdr T’Len to Mr. Reynolds! Could you come to the Engineering department at your earliest convenience, please.” The Cmdr finished.

“James here,” He answered, “Be right there.”

And so once again he followed the computer’s instructions in order to get to Engineering.
Once he got there, he saw the Captain and the XO, all looking at some strange contraption, obviously recently fabricated because it seemed like it had no outer casing, and tubes and wires were running all over it.
It looked like some kind of Espresso maker, cylindrical; less than two feet tall, though the display attached to it was more advanced than on any Espresso machine James had ever seen.
It was currently being operated by Cmdr T’Len.

“… And you believe this will recreate the conditions for James’s arrival here by using the Orb’s own energy matrix?” Kirkinger was asking.

“Yes Sir,” T’Len responded, “By inversing the quantum transfluctuation matrix on the isolinear inverter, I believe I can create a sub-space pulse of trans-dimensional energy through our reality.”

“What’s all this… Technobabble?” James asked.

“Ah, our trans-dimensional time traveller has arrived.” T’Len said, matter-of-factly.
“I was simply explaining to the Captain how I planned to send you home. You see…” T’Len was starting, when James interrupted her.

“It’s ok, Cmdr, I heard it the first time, and I doubt I’ll understand any more the second time around.” He finished with a sheepish smile.

“Don’t worry James,” Natalie said, “While I understand the underlying principle, I don’t understand the exact workings myself.” She said, smiling warmly at James.

James really started to like those smiles, but he quickly pushed those feelings away, knowing full well that he was about to be sent home and that any emotional attachments would only make things harder.
Cmdr T’Len looked at the Captain, and then at James.

“I am ready to start if you are, Mr. Reynolds. As I told the Captain, all preliminary tests have been made while you were helping our Security Chief.
Captain Kirkinger has approved our solution, and so the decision rests on your shoulders.” She finished, and looked intensely at James.

She was waiting for an answer, he realized, but more than that, the way he answered would also indicate his resolve, something she was evaluating, it seemed.
He held no hesitation when he answered:

“I’m ready when you are.” He said, stranding straight.

“Good! We will power up the Orb, and create an opening in the Space-Time barrier. As soon as it is stabilized, we will use the Quantum Resonance controller to match its frequency to yours.
Once everything matches, we will widen the aperture to allow your passage, and then send you home.
Once you’re through, we will then close the aperture, and Starfleet will be able to play with their new toy.” She said casually.

James hoped that things were going to be as simple as she had explained them, but he knew from experience that they rarely were.
He prepared himself mentally, but then thought to ask for a few moments to go and say goodbye to the Doctor, finally deciding against it.
He really did have budding feelings for the Doctor, even if he’d known her only for a day, and he knew it would be harder for him to leave if he saw her again.
And so he said nothing, and waited for the doorway home in silence.

“Powering the Orb!” Said T’Len, who went on to describe in details everything she was doing.
James was slowly getting annoyed at this, and he saw that even the Captain and his XO seemed bored by the incessant chattering of their Engineer.
Everything was going well, and James was starting to zone out, thinking of home, and his friends, until he heard T’Len’s tone changing.

“Captain, I’m reading a rapid increase in the Orb’s power output, and it is draining more and more power from the system.” T’Len indicated.

“Can you shut it down?” Kirkinger asked.

“No sir, it appears the Orb is now controlling its power consumption rate.
Sir, it now appears the Orb is somehow feeding directly off the Warp Core.
At this rate, the aperture will consume the ship in about 10 seconds.”
As she was explaining, James saw T’Len’s fingers were flying over panels, probably trying to shut down the entire operation.
The Captain seemed stressed, and kept asking T’Len to shut the aperture, but it was clear the Engineer no longer controlled the process.
The aperture quickly gained in size, and in seconds encompassed the entire engineering section, and eventually, they all figured, the ship.
There was a brief power surge in the Warp Core, and just as all the ship’s power shut down, there was a bright flash of light, one James had seen before when he had been transported to the ship.
There was an enormous jolt, and everyone except for James lost their footing, some being knocked to the ground while others hit walls and panels.
There were some loud creaking noises, as if the ship itself was being squeezed by external forces, and then everything stopped.
The truth always depends on which side of the fence you're standing... ;)
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Praeothmin
Lieutenant
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Joined: Mon Jan 14, 2008 3:04 pm
Location: Quebec City

Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

Post by Praeothmin »

Chapter 12

For a short while, the ship was silent, the creaking having ceased, the power apparently slowly returning.
The Orb seemed powered down, the Espresso machine circuits fused and melted.
The lights were slowly returning, emergency batteries now taking up the slack from the dead fusion reactors and Warp Core.

“Damage Report!” Called the Captain with a firm voice.

“Nothing yet to report Sir, as we have no main power. Only life support is working for now, apparently only on battery reserves.” T’Len responded.
“I’m showing power coming back online slowly all over the ship, but we still don’t have main power, and sensors are not operational.”

“Get main power online as soon as possible, this is your first priority. I don’t want us crashing into another ship, or on the planet’s surface.” Kirkinger said.
“Bring us to Yellow Alert, I’ll be on the bridge. James, Number One, you’re with me.”

With that, he left Engineering and made his way to the bridge, James and Cmdr Tremblay on his heels.
As they entered the bridge, James’s enhanced hearing picked out a weak noise, apparently appearing at random all over the ship.
It sounded like heavy raindrops falling on a car’s top, heard from the inside.
The noise was weak, and for the moment was heard sporadically.

“Do you guys hear that?” He asked at no one in particular.

“No, what is it?” Asked Cmdr Tremblay.

“I’m not sure, it sounds almost like the beginning of a heavy rainstorm, when the first drops fall.”
He kept listening, analyzing the noise coming to his ears.
As he was concentrating, the noise intensified dramatically, and what at first had sounded like raindrops now sounded like heavy hail.
It was clear to James, judging by the reactions of those on the bridge, that they now heard it too.

“Are we being hit by an asteroid shower?” The Captain asked, looking at the Conn officer.

“I don’t know Sir, sensors are still offline, but if these are asteroids, they are certainly very small.” He finished, before returning his attention to his control panel.

The Captain had just touched his Comm-badge when the ship was rocked hard by a great impact.
The way it had moved, it seemed like something big had impacted the underside of the saucer, lifting it up rapidly.
Before anyone could react, four more such impacts reverberated upon the ship, shaking it ever more violently.
And then power came back through the entire ship.

“Shields! Shields!” Cmdr Tremblay shouted.

As the Tactical officer was struggling to get up and activate the shields, another impact tilted the ship on its side, throwing people around the bridge like pins in a bowling lane.
Except, once again, for James.
His augmented reflexes, balance and strength all contributed in his ability to stand, and allowed him to make his way to the Tactical station with his enhanced speed.
He located the shields activation button, and hit it.
He saw the graphic representation of the shields envelop the ship just as another asteroid impacted.
But this time, with the shields up, the ship barely lurched.

“Damage Report!” Called the Captain, once again worried about his ship and its crew.

“Minor hull breaches on decks 16 to 18, structural integrity fields holding. No casualties reported.” The Conn officer said.

James was helping the Tactical officer up when he spotted six dots on the radar screen, coming straight for the ship.

“Incoming!” He yelled, and everyone grabbed on to whatever was near them.

The six objects impacted on the shields, and though the ship rocked, it was nowhere near the power of the previous hits.

“Shields are holding Captain, though they are down at 67%.” The Tactical officer said.

“What hit us, Lt.?” The XO asked.

“It appears to have been missiles, Sir, and they originated from two unidentified ships, ten kilometres below us. There are two more identical ships in the same vicinity, and a fifth ship, different then the other four, still unknown, sitting right on top of us.
I also read many smaller crafts, most likely fighter crafts, flying around Sir.”

“How many?” Asked the Captain.

“Over two hundred Sir!” Was the surprised reply.

“Where’s the rest of the fleet, Lt.? Where they taken by surprise like us, or are they fighting back?” Kirkinger eagerly asked.

“Unknown Sir, I do not read any Starfleet ships anywhere near.
We’re still in orbit of the planet Sir, but the fleet is nowhere to be found.
According to sensors, we’re not on the Cardassian border anymore.
Sir, one of the four ships just targeted two smaller unidentified vessels coming up from the planet.
The ships are unshielded, Sir, impacts like the ones that hit us will destroy them.
The missiles will impact in 20 seconds.”

“Damn! What can we do?” The Captain thought aloud.
“Helm,” the Captain called, “lay in an intercept course; I want us to be between those missiles and these smaller ships. I will not allow a massacre to happen, no matter who are the good guys or the bad guys.” He said in a tone that did nothing to hide his resolve.
“We’ll sort out this mess later.”

The view screen, now working, showed the ship moving towards the planet, towards the two unprotected ships that were coming up to face their doom.
They tried to perform evasive maneuvers, but it was clear that they wouldn’t succeed.
A few seconds before the missiles could hit their targets, however, the Musashi flew over them, and its shields absorbed the missiles’ impacts.
The Musashi trembled under the hits, but its shields held.

“Shields down to 62%, Captain.” The Tactical officer called out.

“Target the weapons of the ship that just fired, and disable them. Then we’ll offer them to talk.
I’m sure it’s an offer they won’t refuse.” Kirkinger ordered.

“Impossible Sir, I’m reading hundreds of weapons’ emplacements on the ship, and their power distribution isn’t centralised. They have power nodes all over the ship. The only way to disable them is to destroy them, Sir.”

This ship description seemed familiar to Captain Kirkinger, as James saw his eyes widen upon hearing it.

“I want a full scan of those ships. Who controls them?” He asked with urgency.

“I am reading thousands of beings, mostly mechanical, but some combine organics and… “ There was a pause in the description, “Cybernetics, Sir.”

Kirkinger’s eyes went as wide as they could at that statement, and for the first time since James had met him, he was as close to panic as one could be.

“The Borg! Target all weapons on the lead ship and fire… Do it NOW!” Kirkinger yelled as the Tactical officer seemed to be frozen in place.
He snapped out of it quickly, and his fingers ran across the console, acquiring a target and hitting the fire button repeatedly.
On the main screen, the image changed to one ship, strangely shaped, with two Y-shaped hulls attached at their centers by a single pylon, in a distinctive "star" shape.
It was enormous, easily over a kilometre in length.

Phaser beams streaked by in rapid succession, each beam carving up huge holes in the ship, one shot passing clean through to hit another enemy ship behind it.
Then the torpedoes came into view.
Eight glowing spheres of pulsating light advancing at high speeds towards the enemy ship.
Some small fighter crafts attempted to shoot them down, but those that did succeed in hitting the torpedoes had no effect.
Then the torpedoes hit home.
The first one tore off one of the arms of the ship; the second one hit dead center and destroyed the attaching pylon.
Each torpedo hit with so much force, the ship was completely destroyed after the first 4 torpedoes hit.
The four remaining torpedoes continued on, impacting the same ship that had been hit by the over penetrating Phaser shot.
It too was completely destroyed, barely leaving behind a cloud of debris so small, that the biggest piece would have fit in a shuttle.

James was awestruck by the power the Starfleet weapons possessed, but he realized, looking at the crew on the bridge, that they were also amazed at the destruction they had witnessed.
They barely had time to register all that had transpired when the two remaining enemy ships vanished in a flash of light, as well as all the smaller unarmed ships.

The only remaining ship, aside from the Musashi, was the target of the enemy’s fire, the big, blocky looking ship now onscreen.
It was long, well over a kilometre and a half, and wider than the Musashi’s length.
It looked like a huge metallic alligator with no tail.
It had taken quite a beating, bleeding oxygen in many places, its blackened and tortured hull -glowing red in some parts- made it look like it was about to fall to pieces, yet it remained, still ready for a fight, it seemed.

“What’s its status?” Kirkinger asked.

“It is heavily damaged, though still operational. Its guns are all targeted at us, but it is not firing, and all its fighters are apparently returning to their launch pads.” The Tactical officer replied.

“What’s our status?” Cmdr Tremblay asked of the Conn officer.

“As stated earlier, minor hull breaches, no casualties and only light injuries all over the ship, caused by the initial impacts.” Was the answer.

“Good, then let’s intro…” The Captain started to say before an alert started beeping on the Tactical console.

“Sir, sensors detect another ship has just appeared in firing range. It has the same design as the first one, but it is much bigger.” Said the Lt., putting the new ship onscreen.
It was indeed similar to the first one, yet the size difference was staggering.
“They are targeting all weapons on us… They’re firing Sir!”He finished.

They saw projectiles being fired from the new ship come at them at incredible speeds, impacting less than a second later on the shields of the Musashi.
Yet, just as it had the enemy’s missiles, the Akira’s shields fully repelled the assault, the ship shaking slightly under the impacts.

“Shields holding Sir, down to 56%!” The Tactical officer called out.
After the first shots, a multitude of smaller guns fired volley after volley at the Musashi, yet these guns did not have the power necessary to pose a threat to the shielded ship.
Volley after volley were fired, volley after volley were repelled.

The Conn officer lifted his head and said to the Captain:
“Sir, the damaged ship is sending an encrypted message to the new ship, audio only, but we’ve decrypted it easily.”

“Let’s hear it!” Was the Captain’s reply.

“This is Galactica Actual to Pegasus, cease fire! I repeat, cease fire!” Said a throaty voice.

All of a sudden, the new ship stopped firing.
It continued on its way, though, and placed itself between the damaged ship and the Musashi, clearly protecting it.

“All right,” Said Kirkinger, “Stand down from Red Alert to Yellow Alert. All teams to damage control, I want this ship in top shape asap.
Tactical, I want a full scan of the destroyed enemy ships.
If they were Borg, they were of a new kind, and I want to know about it.
Conn, get us these ships on the line. It seems the Universal Translator works well, so let’s use it.” He finished.

“Yes Sir, except the transmission was in English, Sir, the UT wasn’t needed.” The Conn officer replied.
“I even scanned the other ship, and could only find human life signs, nothing else.”

James read surprise on the Captain’s face at that statement, but the Captain brushed it off quickly, and waited for the Conn officer to contact the other ships.

“We’ve got a signal Sir, audio only!” He said.

“To the Commanding officers of the two unknown ships, this is Captain Damien Kirkinger of the Federation ship USS Musashi. We are not your enemy. Our actions earlier were in our own defence, and the defence of two unarmed ships.”
He stopped talking, and eagerly awaited an answer which came quickly.

“This is Admiral William Adama, Commanding Officer of the Battlestar Galactica, of the Colonial fleet.” The throaty voice said. “We thank you for your intervention and the destruction of those two Cylon ships. We would like to meet with you face to face, if possible, to discuss the situation.”

“Of course Admiral, it would be my pleasure to meet with you.” Kirkinger said.
“Where would you like the meeting to be?”

There was a short wait before the voice replied:
“Here, on Galactica. And to show you we mean you no harm either, to ease any suspicions you might have, our second ship, the Pegasus, will leave orbit and rejoin our fleet. How about we meet in thirty minutes, on Galactica’s Port deck? Adama out!”

And with that, there was silence on the line.

“Lt. Monroe,” The Captain said to the Tactical officer, “Lower shields, and stand down from Yellow Alert. I want all available crew on Damage control, stat.
A also want a complete report on those debris scans you took transferred to my chair.
James,” Kirkinger said turning to him, “While we do want to show that we trust them, and I want that first meeting be as peaceful as possible, I would be in your debt if you would be willing to accompany me on this meeting, as my bodyguard.
I would feel much safer that way.
Also, there is the fact that I do not want to alarm them unnecessarily by showing up with my Chief Tactical Officer who happens to be Andorian.” He said honestly.

“It would be my pleasure, Captain!” James said.
Mostly because it is my fault all of this is happening, he thought.
“If I may, we should also bring Lt. Harriman with us, as he would also be a very efficient bodyguard.”

“Good idea! Please make the necessary preparations, accounting for a peaceful encounter, and then you and Harriman meet me at Shuttlebay 3 in twenty-five minutes.” The Captain ordered.
“In the meantime, I’ll try to learn about our Cyborg friends.”

James was making his way to the main Security quarters when he encountered Cmdr Teramak.

“The Captain has told me what he’s planning, and what your role will be.” He said.
“Lt. Harriman is a good choice, since I cannot go with you.”

He took something out of one of his uniform pockets, and handed it to James.
The three devices were small, barely two centimetres long by one centimetre wide.

“These are Beryllium patches. Make sure each one of you, most importantly the Captain, sticks one on his uniform, somewhere discreet.
These patches will allow us to always keep a sensor lock on you, no matter where you are, or how much interference there is.
If you guys get into trouble and we can’t beam you out, we’ll know exactly where to go look for you.
I have to get to my post on the bridge, so good luck!” He said, and walked away without waiting for a reply.

James joined Lt. Harriman at the main Security quarters, where they equipped themselves lightly, wearing only the Form-Fitting Armours and Armour Vests James had had manufactured, and James only brought his ManHunter pistol with him, loaded with Gel bullets.
Harriman had a small palm-sized Phaser that he hid in a utility pouch of his uniform.
They were ready in no time at all, and were in Shuttlebay 3 ten minutes before the Captain.
They spent that time deciding how they would position themselves, this time James letting Harriman make most of the planning, since the Lt. had, in addition to his basic Starfleet training, graduated from Starfleet’s Close Protection school, a branch of Starfleet Academy dealing with close protection for Diplomats and high ranking Federation Officials.

Harriman decided that, since James was the bigger of the two men, he would be the one to stand guard near the Captain, since most of the attention would be directed towards him.
This would give Harriman greater time to react to any threat, and allow him to scan for potential hidden dangers while James would keep his attention on the people in their presence.

When the Captain arrived, they were ready.
They entered the shuttle with an Ensign pilot, and prepared for takeoff.
The shuttle slowly lifted off the ground, very smoothly, and then exited from one of the rear hangar doors.
It slowly made its way around the Musashi, who was now facing the Galactica.
From the front, it was even more impressive, and James couldn’t help but admire the ship.
While Federation ships were aesthetically pleasing, full of curves and shapes that made them look more like works of art than the impressive tools they actually were, the Galactica was all business.
It was boxy, the color of coal, and there wasn’t one single line designed to please the eye.
James liked that.
The design indicated that these people, whoever they were, had a very straightforward way of dealing with combat.
They were direct, and completely unapologetic about it, if their ship design was anything to go by.
And from James’s experience, which he acquired in the army and dealing with MegaCorps, one could usually gather much information about a culture or group by looking at the way they designed and built things.

The exception to this rule, James had recently learned, was the United Federation of Planets.
James had wondered, upon getting a first glimpse of the Federation ships, and the way their crews acted, at how many enemies had made the mistake of underestimating how powerful Starfleet vessels were, or how dedicated their crew could be.
How many enemies realised only too late that they shouldn’t have started a war with the Federation, all because they had perceived it as a weak entity, easily scared off, simply because its ships were graceful, and apparently not designed for combat.
James was certain it was not the case with these Colonial officers.
They had seen how easily the Musashi had disposed of two enemy ships, and how easily it had repelled the fire from their bigger ship when it had come to the rescue.
All of it while not running at maximum efficiency, James thought.
They will treat us with respect, and a little bit of fear, he mused, and so may be more dangerous if we let our guard down.

The Type-6 shuttle quickly covered the distance between the two ships, and landed inside the port launch bay, on a landing pad.
The pad slowly descended inside the ship’s port flight deck, its bustle of activity slowly coming into view.
The deck was, as the sensors had indicated, filled only with humans.
Some were crew members, judging by their uniforms, while others were probably refugees from the fleet that had escaped the planet below.
James saw a lot of people who were obviously part of the security force on the ship, but what was so curious is that they were wearing uniforms reminiscent of James’s old Marines combat fatigues.
They were moving with purpose and efficiency, showing they were highly trained, and would be dangerous in a firefight.
As the pad was nearing its resting position, a small detachment of Marines, led by a stern man, made its way towards the shuttlecraft.
The man was in his mid-fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, and a similarly colored moustache.
He walked with a determined stride, his back straight, and his gaze rock solid.
Every time he looked at somebody, that person would seem to shrink under that gaze, as if the man was the devil himself.
Yet on second examination, James realized it was not out of fear that the people averted their gaze, but out of respect, the respect one would give the caretaker of a family, or a man of importance.
This man, then, James concluded, was Admiral Adama.
Taking up his position to the front left of Captain Kirkinger, James lowered the exit ramp to the back of the shuttle, and walked down the ramp where he waited for the Admiral to reach them.
His eyes were constantly surveying their surroundings, but mostly the group approaching them, as he knew Lt. Harriman was going to keep an eye out on threats from farther away.

Upon seeing James, the Admiral’s ayes had widened ever so slightly, but sufficiently for James to notice.
The people accompanying him, though, were not as subtle.
A lot of the Marines with the Admiral had reacted with surprise at James’s size, and were now devoting most of their attention on him, just as Harriman had predicted.
They were definitely a bit nervous about the hulking human coming out of the shuttle, wearing combat armor similar to theirs, and armed with a big pistol in a hip holster.
Some were more cautious and kept looking around, some even scrutinizing the Lt., recognizing that he was, just as James’s was, the security detail for the Captain.
What James figured unnerved them the most was that, while there were 6 of them, there were only two security guards with the Starfleet Captain, two guards fully relaxed, not intimidated in the least.
Captain Kirkinger noticed the approaching man, and seemed to reach the same conclusion as James.

“Admiral Adama, I presume.” He said to the older man.

“Captain Kirkinger, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Said the man with his deep, throaty voice.
“Pardon the armed escort, but events of late have forced me to be more prudent.” He was studying Captain Kirkinger intensely, openly, apparently searching for something only he could find.

“I understand perfectly well, Admiral, for as you can see, I too have come escorted.” The Captain was completely undaunted by that scrutiny, as he had weathered far more intense stares from his own Admiral a day earlier.

“Indeed, although I am surprised that you only brought two men with you, as the meeting is held here, on possibly hostile territory.” Admiral Adama said.
His tone was a matter-of-fact one, not threatening at all.

“I sensed no deception in your voice when we spoke,” Kirkinger explained, “and so I felt a smaller security team was the best way to go for a first encounter. Although I have to admit I do have two of my best personal guards with me, so I feel safe enough.
Besides, Starfleet rarely believes in the “show of strength” kind of first encounters, we prefer more peaceful approaches, today’s battle notwithstanding.” He finished with half a grin.

“If you will follow me, then, Captain, we will talk in my personal quarters. We will be more comfortable there.”

They started off towards the middle of the ship, James hoping the beryllium patches would truly help the Musashi crew keep track of them.
Just in case it couldn’t, James memorized the way as much as possible in the case they had to get out fast.

“Speaking of today’s battle,” the Admiral said while they were walking, “I would like to thank you on behalf of my crew, and of the people of the Colonies of Kobol.
Were it not for your intervention earlier, we might have lost a lot of people in the battle, not to mention one of the Battlestars.
Your timely arrival has transformed what would have been a bloody victory into a hard one, but a good one.”

“Glad we could help, although our arrival here wasn’t intentional.” Kirkinger seemed to hesitate before deciding he could say what he wanted to the Admiral.
“In fact, we don’t really know where “here” is. We were hoping you could help us determine that, in case our scans of the surrounding stars don’t help us.”

James felt a great degree of familiarity while walking through the ship’s corridors.
Although they were larger then the military ships he was used to, the hatches were similar, the layout as well, and the dull grey color of the walls also reminded him of navy ships.
Which means it was as far away a design as possible from the Federation ships.
It was stark, brutal, definitely a military ship, unlike the “cruise ship” aspects of Federation vessels.
The ship had been banged up a lot, he noticed walking down its corridors, repair crews working intensely at every other bend, it seemed.
The Captain had seen it too.
James knew it was just a matter of time before he offered some help for the repairs.
But what truly held James’s attention was a corridor between the Launch Deck and their destination, its walls filled with pictures of people, children, parents and grand-parents alike, all placed in no specific order.
The entire corridor filled James with a sense of loss, of sadness, of lives broken by these pictures, as he came to understand this was a memorial of some kind, commemorating the loss of many people to some cataclysmic event, such as a war.

They made their way through the ship, and finally arrived at the Admiral’s quarters.
They entered, James and Harriman on the Captain’s heels, while four of the armed Marines entered the quarters as well.
The Admiral indicated a chair in front of a wooden desk, and when the Captain sat down, he asked:
“Would you like anything to drink?”

“Water would be nice, thank you.” Answered Kirkinger.

After serving a glass of water to him and the Captain, the Admiral sat down in a plush leather chair behind the desk.

“Captain,” the Admiral began as he was comfortably seated, “You said that your arrival here was unexpected. Did you make a mistake in your FTL coordinates calculations?
And, I think, more importantly, where did you expect to arrive?”

“Actually, we weren’t expecting to leave our previous location at all.” The Captain answered.
“We were testing new technology, when it apparently backfired, and created some kind of spatial wormhole which brought us here.
My vessel suffered some damage during the transit, which is why we were helpless when we arrived here.”

The last statement merited a curious look from the Admiral.

“Your ship looked anything but helpless. It took the brunt of a Cylon attack directly to its hull without much damage, and then, all of a sudden, it was as if the Cylon missiles were not even hitting you, according to some of our pilots.
And then, as if this wasn’t enough, you took down two Baseships with lasers and eight missiles, none of which registered as nuclear.
You clearly possess technology well in advance of ours, yet you are human, just as us.
At first, we thought you may be a new type of Cylon never encountered before, but this just doesn’t match with what I’m seeing right now.
Still, it is a possibility, yet you clearly defended us and the other humans, so whether you are humans or Cylons, you are our allies for the moment.
Which brings me to the question I want answered most: where are you from, Captain Kirkinger of the USS Musashi?”

“Well, that’s an easy question to answer,” Kirkinger said, “We come from a planet called Earth.”
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

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Chapter 13

These words, James could see, had had the effect of an uppercut on the Admiral.
He was looking even more intensely at the Captain, as if searching in himself at how to react to this information.
Even the Marines in the room had reacted to Kirkinger’s answer.

“Captain, in light of what you just told me, I think this conversation should continue in the presence of the President of the Colonies.” Even saying the words, even after he had calmed himself, Admiral Adama still showed a certain uncertainty at what he was doing, as well as some trepidation, as if the information provided by Captain Kirkinger held some capital importance to these people.
“Would you agree to reconvene with me and the President at a later time? I realize you may be eager to get back to where you came from, but believe me when I say the information you hold is very important to us.”
He looked expectantly at Captain Kirkinger, no longer in perfect control of his emotions, awaiting an answer he hoped would be positive.

“Of course, Admiral, I certainly can do that. We still have no clue as to how, or why, we were brought here, so we will need some time to figure things out.
This certainly allows me to grant you this discussion, and more…” He let the comment hang in the air, dangling like a worm on a fishing hook, hoping the Admiral would catch the bait, which he did.

“What do you mean by that, Captain?” Asked the Admiral, more and more curious.

“Well, we noticed that your ship was banged up pretty well in that last battle, and it seems like your crews have their hands full trying to repair it.
Plus, they are using methods which seem… “archaic” to us.
We may be able to help,” He said with a smile, “Just as soon as my ship is fully operational, of course.”

“Captain, I would be happy for any help you can give us, but unless you have armor plating in stock, or even the necessary refined material to make such plating and parts, then there’s not much you can give aside from some manpower.” Adama said, doubt evident in his voice.

“Admiral, here’s what I propose: make a list of the parts you need, and their composition, and send it to us. We’ll see what we can do for you. As for the manpower, we can indeed provide it as soon as our repairs are over.
Now, concerning the next meeting: since the threat has ended, and since we don’t know how leaving this planet’s orbit may affect our chances to return home, could the President come to us, instead of us to him?
We can even have the next meeting on Galactica, again, although I would be happy to invite you to visit my ship.”

The Admiral seemed to think the proposal over, and finally said:
“I will indeed send you a list, even though I’m sure we can find spare parts on the Pegasus, I think having fresh new ones would be nice, and would keep our stock intact.
As for the meeting with the President, I’m sure he’ll be happy to come back once he knows it’s safe to do so, although I believe he will prefer to meet on Galactica, for now. “ the Admiral finished.

“Then it’s settled,” Kirkinger said, “I’ll return to the Musashi, and once we receive your list, I will have my crew prepare the required parts.” He finished by getting up, ready to leave.

Admiral Adama stood up, and invited the Captain towards the door with a gesture.
As they started to move to it, it opened by itself, and one guard came in, leading a man in the room.
The man was dressed with casual clothing that had seen much better days.
He was balding, with his remaining hair forming a white crown around his head, and a short, week old beard adorning his face.
He wore an eye patch over his right eye, but the way he walked, James felt, indicated he had lost the eye recently, and was not fully used to having lost his depth perception.
He was also stooping as he walked, despite his obviously vigorous body, his face clearly displaying a man who had lost much recently.
Admiral Adama looked at the newcomer and greeted him with a warm smile, as one would an old friend.
He turned to Captain Krikinger and said:
“Captain, let me introduce you to a dear friend, and the XO of this ship, Colonel Saul Tigh.”

The Captain was about to reply, extending his hand, when Harriman let out a yelp, and blocked Kirkinger’s way with an extended arm.

“Captain,” he said with a tensed voice, “that man’s a Cylon!”
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

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Last edited by Praeothmin on Wed Jul 25, 2012 3:40 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

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Chapter 14

The words hit everybody like a hammer, but the first person to react with venomous anger was the Commander.
Yelling “You bastard!” to Harriman, he cocked his right arm and punched the Lt. in the face.
Harriman, protecting the Captain while trying to reach for his palm Phaser, could not block or deflect the punch, so he tried to roll with it.
Except the punch never reached him.
Before Tigh’s fist could make it even half way to the Lt.’s face, James had stepped forward, grabbed Tigh’s right forearm at the wrist with his left hand while drawing his pistol with his right hand, back-stepped his left leg while kneeling on it and twisting Tigh’s hand in a lock and, once Tigh was on the ground, James stuck his pistol in the Cylon’s face, pressing the pistol’s muzzle on his right cheek.
Once it was over, the other humans’ reactions took over and within a second the Admiral’s personal quarters had become a big Mexican standoff, the Colonial Marines all pointing their guns at James while Lt. Harriman pointed his Phaser at the guards and the Admiral pointed an obviously previously concealed weapon at Harriman.
The only person not pointing a weapon was Captain Kirkinger, whose reaction was raising his hands, palms outwards, and firmly saying:
“Everybody, calm down! I’m sure no one wants to do anything we’ll all regret!”

His words seemed to calm things down a bit, even if no one lowered their weapons.
Everyone kept looking at the others, suspicion apparent on their faces.

“Bill, what the FRAK is going on here?” Asked an irate Saul Tigh.
“Who are these people, and why the FRAK does this gorilla have a gun at my face?”

“I don’t know Saul,” Adama replied, a steel edge in his voice, “But I’m sure our friends will explain themselves real soon.”

Captain Kirkinger looked at Lt. Harriman with a questioning look, and said:
“James, release the Admiral’s XO. Lt. Harriman, put your weapon away, and explain yourself, now.”

James slowly lowered his weapon, got up, and lifted Commander Tigh as if he weighed nothing more than a little child -which drew a surprised look from the older XO’s face- before letting him go.
Harriman also lowered his weapon, even holstering it, and, raising his Tricorder so the Captain could see its readings, started to explain himself, under Saul Tigh’s withering glare.



Harriman shot Tigh a resolved look, and said:

“Sir, before we left the Musashi, I downloaded all the sensor readings from our encounter with the enemy ships in my Tricorder’s database, including the crew complement of the enemy ships.
I wanted to make sure we were safe, and knowing how relentless the Borg are, I wanted to take no chances.
I had set my Tricorder to emit a special chirping sound as soon as a Borg, or Cylon as they call them, was in range.
I guess the bulkhead covered its approach, because it only warned me as the door to the room was opening.
The readings are unmistakable, Sir. That man is what they call a Cylon.” Harriman finished.

He kept looking at Saul Tigh, which seemed to enrage the other man to no end.

“Captain Kirkinger, I want to know what just happened, and why your crewman calls my best friend and XO a Cylon.” Adama asked, steel in his voice.
“I’ve know this man for a long time, and he’s been nothing but a great friend, and a reliable soldier in the Cylon wars –both of them.
So I will not stand here and accept that my friend gets called the name of our greatest enemy for no reason.”

Captain Kirkinger thought about what he was going to say, knowing how tense the situation was, and knowing that, even with James there, the situation could turn to the worse with their new allies in a heartbeat.
Kirkinger wasn’t panicked though, as he had faced dangerous situations before, and knew how to keep his head in times like these.

“I apologize for this… Incident, Admiral Adama,” He began, “My man acted in a fashion he believed to be in my best interest.
His comments about the nature of your XO originated from his scanning instrument, which we call a Tricorder.”

“I don’t care what you call it,” An angry Saul Tigh replied, “It’s not working right.”
He looked at Harriman and said:
“You better retract that statement, young man, or so help me God I’ll…”

He didn’t have time to finish, as an impatient Adama interjected:
“Saul! Shut the frak up NOW! The only reason any of you guys on the surface made it out, and the only reason both our Battlestars survived, is because these people destroyed the Cylon forces over New Caprica.
Now I know these accusations have got your nerves wound up tight after all you’ve been through on New Caprica, but these people are our allies…”

“YOU HAVE NO FRACKING CLUE WHAT I’VE BEEN THROUGH ON NEW CAPRICA, BILL.” Wailed a shaking Saul Tigh.
“ELLEN’S DEAD, BILL,” Said Tigh, then added more softly, “Because of those frakking Cylons, and these frakkers” he pointed at the Starfleet group, “Have the gall to call ME A CYLON?”

The man seemed on the verge of doing something stupid, James felt, and he was readying himself for all hell breaking loose when Tigh’s anger deflated in an instant, and he fell on his knees, sobbing.
James looked at Kirkinger, unsure of what to do.
Kirkinger looked at Adama, and without a word, he pointed at himself and his men, and mouthed “We’ll wait outside!” to Adama, who nodded.
They filed out the office, as well as the guards who closed the door behind them, and then they waited.
The air was tense in the corridor, both side unsure of how to act, unsure of how any movement would be perceived by the other side, which meant that anything anyone did, they did slowly, in the most unthreatening manner possible.

Adama came out of the office half an hour later, alone.
He looked straight at Kirkinger, and said:
“Now, Captain, how about you tell me what was that all about in there.”

“As I started to explain earlier,” Kirkinger said, “we have portable scanning devices, called Tricorders. They can scan for many different things.
For example, I could walk in a forest, and scan for mammals, or different types of plants, or specifically only humanoids.
It is very accurate, and is very malleable in its scanning capacity.
Prior to the battle against the Cylons earlier –which we feared were beings called Borg-, we had fully scanned their ships and their crew, and received a detailed sensor imprint of the hybrid nature of the Cylons.
Lt. Harriman thought it best, seeing as we were going into what was a possible trap, to download the sensor imprint of these hybrids in his Tricorder, and set it up so it would alert him if a Cylon came within range.
Your bulkheads are very thick, so they blocked the scans a bit, which is why he was only alerted when Colonel Tigh came in.”
Kirkinger looked at Adama, who, although he didn’t seem to like where the conversation was going, still listened without a word.
“If my crewman’s Tricorder says it detected a Cylon, then I believe it did.
If it says that Cylon’s Colonel Tigh, then I believe he is one.
The only thing that remains to be seen, from my point of view, is if he’s a spy, a good Cylon or if there’s something here that causes false readings in the Tricorder.”

Admiral Adama calmed himself, as it was clear the Captain of the Musashi was no trying to provoke him, but was just stating facts as he saw them.

“I apologize for my abruptness.” He told them.
“Last time we put our faith in a Cylon Detector, it failed us.
And so I am somewhat reluctant to believe a machine telling me my best friend is actually an enemy spy.”

“This is your choice, Admiral, and I’ll respect it,” Started Kirkinger, “But please realize that this means our help will be limited, as there is no way I’m letting possible Cylons see our technology, or even worse, get their hands on it.”
He finished matter-of-factly.

The Admiral seemed to mull over the statement for a few moments, then replied.

“Would you be willing to trust your life on this instrument?” He asked.

“I have,” Kirkinger said, “Many times in the past.
I trust this instrument implicitly when it is properly used.
And I know Lt. Harriman is fully trained on its use, as are all Starfleet personnel.
So when it tells me one of your crew is a Cylon, I believe it, unless proven otherwise by rock-solid evidence.”

“Would you be willing to examine our Cylon detector and let us know why it failed?” Adama asked.
“I’m not sure I can put the same faith in its creator as you can put in your equipment.”

“I can have my people look at it immediately, if you wish. I simply need to know what type of test it is to determine who can help best.” Kirkinger said.

“Unfortunately, the creator of the test is, as far as I know, missing in action.
First reports say he was taken in by the Cylons after we left New Caprica.
I do know it was a blood test, and that it compared human blood cells’ reaction to certain types of radiations with those of Cylon hybrids’ blood.
You see, Cylons are vulnerable to certain radiations, even at low levels not menacing to humans.
The detector turned out to be worthless, and so it was abandoned.
If you could help us make it work, we would be very greatful. ”

Adama started walking down the corridor in the opposite direction from which they had arrived, signalling the Starfleet team to follow him.
They travelled through what James estimated to be around half of the ship before arriving to a door, where two Marines were standing guard.
They saluted the Admiral, who nodded, and they opened the door.
They entered the room, a lab of some sort, with notes and equipment cluttering every inch of it.

“This is where Doctor Baltar created the detector,” Adama said, “And here is our useless marvel of Colonial Technology.” He finished.

James looked at the equipment, and the way it was setup, and understood how Baltar had set up his test.
He looked at Captain Kirkinger, and said:
“Captain, I believe I can make heads or tails of this, if you will allow me to.
I believe Doctor Baltar’s test was a simple one where he isolated the specific parts of the Cylon DNA susceptible to radiation and submitted the same human and Cylon DNA parts to small doses of radiation and noted the effects in both subjects.”

Kirkinger nodded his approval, and under the surprised gaze of Admiral Adama and Lt. Harriman, James rummaged through the notes and examined the equipment thoroughly.
It took him about thirty minutes to confirm his theory, and to make an interesting finding.

“Sir!” He called to Captain Kirkinger.
“I believe I know why the Cylon detector didn’t work.”

Admiral Adama, doubt clearly present in his face, joined James next to the detector.

“How could you possibly know that after only thirty minutes?” He asked, not masking his incredulity at all.
“It took Doctor Baltar weeks to design this, and the man is a Genius.
And now I’m to believe a bodyguard understands his work, and in less than thirty minutes can tell us where the detector failed?”

“Admiral, I honestly couldn’t care less what you decide to believe or not,” James stated bluntly, “But one thing I do care about is that Captain Kirkinger proposed his help, and since I am indebted to him, that means he proposes my help as well.”

The Admiral didn’t like James’s tone of voice, and it showed, but James continued anyway, even ignoring Kirkinger’s glare.

“And while I may look like an idiot to you, I can assure you I am more than up to the task in this case.
And the fact you judge my performance based on my look, my apparent function, with no regard to my actual findings has me wondering who made you an Admiral… Sir!”

For what appeared to be an eternity, James and the Admiral stared at each other, neither one lowering his gaze.
Kirkinger was about to talk when Adama broke silence first.

“Once again, it seems I owe you and your crew an apology, Captain Kirkinger.” Adama said softly.
“More to the point, I owe you an apology, son.” He said at James.
“I guess this war, and especially its effects so close to home, has me running on emotion rather than logic and detachment, as I should.
Please, Lt., tell us what you found out.”

“I can see how that would affect someone, Sir,” James said, “So no apology is necessary.”

There was a short silence, where once again both men seemed to measure the other up, and then Adama nodded slightly.
James nodded in reply, and then explained his findings.

“Sir, after a thorough analysis of Doctor Baltar’s work, I can say the theory was sound.
In fact, it should have worked with near 100% accuracy.
So I looked over the Doctor’s results, and compared them to the test subject reference, and came to the only logical conclusion possible:
The Doctor falsified his results to obtain only false positives.
Doctor Baltar personally sabotaged his Cylon detector so it would fail.”
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

Post by Praeothmin »

Chapter 15

The information didn’t make the Admiral too happy, as James expected, but at the same time, Adama did not look very surprised by the news.
James thought he saw understanding in his gaze, lingering but a moment, before the gruff façade came back in force.

“Thank you!” He said, “This discovery will help us very much in the coming weeks.
One more thing, though: would you be able to make this work, his test?
And more importantly, would you be able to show us how to run it?”

“I sure can, Admiral.” James replied.
“Just give me 10 minutes, and I’ll have the test operational, and a full set of instructions for you.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if Doctor Cotter, our chief Medical Officer, was the one who learned how to run the tests. I have full confidence in the man.” Adama said.

And so James reset the Cylon detector could it be used again –this time reliably-, and when Cotter arrived, he showed him how to run it.
He finished his explanations as the comm system beeped, and there was a call heard over the ship.

“Admiral Adama to call CIC. Admiral Adama to call CIC.” Said a high, soft voice.

Adama excused himself, and went to a phone on the wall.
He spoke briefly, and came back to the group.

“Captain Kirkinger,” He said, “The President of the colonies has just arrived on the Galactica. When he heard about your ship, he immediately set out to meet you.
Since my XO is in my office, we’ll have the meeting here, if you don’t mind.”

“As you wish, Admiral.” Was Kirkinger’s reply.

They waited for the President of the Colonies for less than 5 minutes, before the guards at the entrance opened the door to the laboratory to let him in.
The man came in quickly, looked at all the occupants in the room, and went straight for Kirkinger.
He was tall, dark-haired and had an air of someone who had seen life and knew well its trappings.
He walked straight, like a man who was exactly where he should be, and whom everyone should respect.
His gaze, though, was always moving around, and had a fleeting quality to it, like that of a man always looking for a weakness to exploit.
James felt at ease around him, as he was exactly like any other Corporate-type execs he’d met with before his missions.
He knew what to expect from these men, and so he felt at home dealing with the President of the Colonies.

“I am President Tom Zarek, from the 12 Colonies of Kobol!” He said in a raspy voice, extending his hand to Kirkinger.
“I have heard a great deal about your intervention above New Caprica, from many trustworthy sources.” He continued, completely ignoring Adama.
“I would very much like to learn all about you and your ship, and how you so easily destroyed the Cylons that were attacking us.” He finished, expectantly.

“I am honoured to meet you, Mr. President.” Kirkinger began tentatively.
“As I told the Admiral,” The Captain said, nodding towards Adama, “We come from a planet called Earth.”

Once again, this statement had a profound effect on the Captain’s conversation partner.
The President’s eyes went wide, and he turned to Admiral Adama, for the first time acknowledging his presence in the room, as if to seek confirmation.
The Admiral did indeed nod, giving credence to the statement.

“Earth!” He said, as if refusing to believe it.
“And… Where is that… Earth?”

It was as if he was hesitant to pronounce the name, as if saying it out loud would wake him up from a dream and erase Earth from his mind.

“Well, we cannot tell you at the moment, for we do not know where we currently are.” Captain Kirkinger answered.
“My ship and its crew came here by accident, and we suffered some damage on our little trip, including on our Long-Range Sensors.
My crew is currently repairing the damage, and so as soon as they are done, we should be able to get an accurate picture of our location in relation to Earth.”

“I see. And with a damaged ship, you were able to destroy two Cylon Basestars without suffering any casualties in return?” An incredulous President asked.

“While damaged, our ship wasn’t completely defenceless,” Kirkinger said.
“The Musashi is well armoured, and equipped with the latest Starfleet weapons and shields.
There’s also the fact that these Cylons were not as powerful as our regular foes are.”

“Your foes must be mighty indeed, because we find the Cylons quite formidable.” President Zarek replied.
“Even if they are no match ship to ship, they can hurt us very much as they have more ships than us at the present.”

President Zarek then fell silent for a few moments, his eyes clearly showing James that he was considering how he should next proceed with his new potential allies.

“I was told, Captain, that you offered Admiral Adama your help, although my sources couldn’t tell me what kind of help that was.” Tom Zarek said, intensely looking at Captain Kirkinger.
Adama threw a sidelong glance at the President, apparently wondering just who those sources were.
“May we hope that this help might include these incredible weapons of yours, to aid in our struggle?”
Zarek finished expectantly.

“Mr. President,” Captain Kirkinger began, “Starfleet’s protocols forbid us to give weapons and technology to anyone who has not been approved by the Federation, even to potential allies.
The reason being that the Federation slowly grew in wisdom and knowledge before developing these weapons and the accompanying Technology.
We completely understand the underlying risks associated with its use.
You would not.
You would have equal chances of blowing yourselves up as of actually defeating your enemies.
And the potential for abuse is also there.
After all, these weapons would make you the ultimate power in your space, and we all know what ultimate power does.”
He let the last part hang there for a few seconds, allowing the President time to digest his answer.
“No,” He continued, “Our help will be in replenishing your parts supply, helping to repair your ships, and even re-stocking you in your type of weapons.”

“I see!” Said the President.
His internal struggle was apparent to James, and he thought to Captain Kirkinger as well, but neither men said anything, letting the President decide how to best form his answer.
“We are, of course, very thankful for all you’ve done, and all you’re about to do. If there’s anything you need from me, just let me know.”
With those words, he left.
It was clear he had wanted to add something, and James was pretty sure he knew what: The President was not happy about the limited help his people were getting.
This meant that President Zarek would be back with another request sooner or later, and Captain Kirkinger would have to once more deny him his wishes.

“Admiral,” The Captain started, “Why don’t we make a list of what you need, and start on making sure you get it?” He asked.

“Agreed!” Adama replied.
“I’ll show you the damage we received, and you can tell me what help you can provide.”

And so they left, Doc Cotter returning to the medical bay, and the group going through the inner parts of the ship, looking at the damage had done.
The ship had been beaten up pretty bad, and many structural struts were close to failure, repair crews busily doing all they could to strengthen them, but it was clear their repairs would only be temporary, as they were lacking the proper facilities or equipment to perform full repairs.

“Admiral,” Captain Kirkinger said, “Tell your men to stop using sub-par rod substitutes to shore up those struts. I can have brand new parts made for you within a day.
Plus, we use a bonding method that actually strengthens the bond between two parts, making them as solid as if they had been moulded as one.
And in some cases, we’ll be able to replace entire bulkheads within seconds.”

The Admiral was clearly surprised by that revelation, to James’s delight.
Ever since setting foot on the Federation ship, James had felt like a caveman discovering the modern world would, so far in advance of his own world’s technology was the Federation.
But here was an Admiral in a fleet of star ships, as impressed by the Federation technology as he had been.
The Captain and the Admiral spent another thirty minutes or so talking about the repairs needed by the Galactica.
Studying the Admiral, James felt certain the man refrained himself from asking for weapons on more than one occasion.
His composure, and the respect he showed Captain Kirkinger in not asking for weapons he knew would help his people greatly impressed James.

The two men were still talking when Lt. Harriman interrupted his Captain.

“Apologies, Sir,” He said, “But the Tricorder is picking up another Cylon, Sir.”

“What?” The Admiral replied.
“Where is he?”

“He is coming around the bend, right now.” Harriman excitedly said.

James jumped in front of Captain Kirkinger and got his weapon out just as a man rounded the wall.
The tall man, with wide shoulders and short dark hair, wore an orange jumpsuit with yellow stripes on the side, and he seemed preoccupied by some report.
He seemed to sense something amiss, lifted his eyes and jumped in surprise.

“That’s him!” Lt. Harriman said.

“Chief Tyrol?” Adama asked incredulously.
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

Post by Praeothmin »

Chapter 16

The man was taken aback by the guns pointed towards him.
He froze in mid-step, noticed the Admiral, and, with uncertainty all over his face, asked:
“Admiral? What is wrong? Why are these men pointing guns at me?”

“Chief,” The Admiral started slowly, “It seems you are hiding things from us.
Our friends here, say that you are a Cylon, and that they have proof.”

“What?” The Chief said, genuine surprise all over his face.
“That’s absurd!” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Yes, I’m starting to think so as well.” Adama said, eying Captain Kirkinger with frustration in his eyes.
“It seems all my most trusted men turn out to be Cylons.”

“I can assure you, I’m not a Cylon, Sir.” The Chief said in his defence.
“Now, if you don’t mind, we’ve got a lot of work to do, as the Galactica has been heavily damaged in the rescue mission.
I only just suited up and was going over the repair estimates, and they are not good, believe me.
So, if you guys are done pointing guns in my face, I’ll get back to work.” He finished.
He started to move past James, but when the Chief touched the gun, it didn’t move, not even an inch.
“Sir?” He said, slightly panicked, as he looked at the Admiral.

“Chief, I will have to ask you to trust me on this.
It’s time we’ve put our new Cylon detector to the test.
Please accompany me to Science Lab 1, where we’ll have Doc Cotter take a sample of our blood.
I’ll have Saul Tigh brought there too.”

“Yes Sir!” Was Tyrol’s response, and he waited for the Admiral.
Admiral Adama went to one of the wall phones, where he called Doc Cotter and instructed him to go to the lab to prep the Cylon Detector.

The Admiral looked at Captain Kirkinger, and said:
“Since these tests take some time, this will allow you to go back to your ship to see if the repairs are completed, and to start preparations on the help you offered.
Cpl. Basking here will accompany you to your ship.”

“Why don’t you join us once your blood sample has been taken, Admiral?” Captain Kirkinger asked.
“This would allow me to show you a bit of my ship, and you could see how we do things in Starfleet.”

The Admiral seemed to think it over, but James could see curiosity battling over duty in the Admiral’s face.
At the end, curiosity won, if only by a slight margin.

“I would love too, Captain. I admit I’ve wanted to do that since we met.
Go to your transport, Captain, and I’ll join you there momentarily.”
With those words, Adama turned around, and headed to the Science lab, followed by a curious and uncomprehending Chief Tyrol.

The Starfleet crew made it back to the shuttle in silence, preceded by Cpl. Basking who was leading them.
James was happy because he remembered the way perfectly, and could have guided them if needed.
He thought back to the reactions of Saul Tigh and Chief Tyrol, and something felt off.
They were both genuinely surprised at the accusations, not at being discovered.
No, their surprise, James decided, was one of someone who couldn’t possibly fathom what was revealed as true.
Which meant that if James had correctly analyzed their reaction, these men were sleeper agents, albeit unknowing ones.
James wondered how many more of these Cylons they would find.
As they arrived at their shuttle, they noticed it had attracted attention.
Many people, most of them flight deck crew, James judged by the way they were dressed, were examining every inch of the shuttle, some to the detriment of their duties.
They all spread out the moment they saw the Starfleet crew arrive on deck, as if they suddenly remembered they had other things to do, which they did.
James did a quick inspection of the shuttle, making sure nothing was damaged, or that no bombs were present.
The discovery of the Cylon sleeper agents had put him on edge, and so he was thorough in his inspection of the shuttle.
Once he was done, he started looking around, at everything and everyone, looking for potential threats to the Captain and themselves.
He had found none by the time Admiral Adama had arrived.
The Admiral was accompanied by two Marines, fully armed and alert.
James was sure they weren’t too happy going into an unknown ship with potential threats waiting for the Admiral, with only two guards.
But they didn’t show it, aside from their readiness and the way their eyes kept moving, inspecting the shuttle, James and Harriman, and Captain Kirkinger, no doubt looking for any signs of betrayal.
The Captain led the Admiral inside the shuttle, showed him his seat, took his while the shuttle door was closing, and then James and the guards felt the ground move beneath their feet, the slight tremor indicating the shuttle was taking off.
James had noticed two different reactions to the take off from Lt. Harriman and the Marines.
Harriman, used as he was to this type of shuttle, was not, just like James, using a handhold, and was still keeping a close eye on the Marines and Adama with his Tricorder during the take off.
The Marines, though, had most likely expected a more turbulent lift, as their eyes showed genuine surprise when they felt the shuttle move, their center of Gravity telling them it was off the ground, yet only a slight tremor under their feet had betrayed the take off.

The Admiral, James saw, was much more relaxed then his guards were.
James felt the Admiral had taken measure of Captain Kirkinger, and had seen no deception, no malice in the man, and so had apparently decided that he could be fully trusted.
This did not mean Adama wasn’t alert, but he was showing much less distrust, or nervousness, than his men did.
He was telling Captain Kirkinger about the test, that it had gone well enough, even though Cl. Tigh had protested vehemently at taking the test, relenting only once the Admiral had told him he and Cotter would also be tested.
He was finishing a sentence when he looked out the window, and stopped talking, surprise and wonder on his face.
Captain Kirkinger turned around to see what Adama was looking at, though James was certain Kirkinger knew what had caused the Admiral’s reaction.
The Marines, seeing their Admiral’s reaction, came forward, and looked in the same direction as Adama.
Their reaction was just as his had been, one of the Marines even mouthing “motherfrakker” silently.
James smiled slightly, just as Kirkinger was now smiling, and decided he would join Adama and his crew and peer out the window.
Just as he expected, the Musashi was in view, bathed in the light being reflected off the surface of New Caprica.
It’s curving lines, pale hull, which now bore almost no traces of combat, only the major missile strikes still showing, cut a majestic silhouette in space.
And while it was not as big or as long as the Galactica, it was still massive enough that when the shuttle approached from the rear, aiming at the open landing bays between the two Warp Nacelles, it was completely filling the view.

The shuttle entered the first landing bay, and set down on the pad smoothly.
They exited the shuttle, and Captain Kirkinger invited the others to follow him.
He gave a quick tour of the ship to the Admiral, explaining how things worked, and what Starfleet protocols guided the ship’s activities.
Admiral Adama was impressed, more so when Captain Kirkinger showed him the industrial replicators, which would be used to create the new parts for the Galactica using raw materials from the planet below.
They had contacted the Galactica and obtained the list of necessary parts when Cmdr. T’Len arrived.

“Captain,” She said, “We have finished analyzing our sensor readings of the encounter with the cybernetic organisms.”

She stopped, looking at the Captain’s guests, and James knew she was wainting for her Captain’s permission to continue, or order to shut up.

“Lt. Cmdr. T’Len,” The Captain started, “Allow me to present to you our new friend and ally, Admiral William Adama, from the fleet of the Twelve Colonies.
Admiral, this is my Chief Engineer, Lt. Cmdr. T’Len.
She is a Vulcan, a race of beings allied with Earth in the Federation of Planets, our governing body.
The Federation comprises over one-hundred-fifty worlds, many being part of Starfleet, so you may see many strange humanoids on my vessel."

"I had noticed." Adama replied.

"As you can see, Cmdr. T'Len is alos quite to the point.
Cmdr., you may proceed with your findings.” He said, returning his gaze at T’Len.

“Thank you Sir!
They are not Borg, and their weapons technology is inferior, although there is more here than meets the eyes.
When we destroyed their ships, our sensor logs noticed massive data transmissions emanating from the ships to a nearby system, which we were able to triangulate.
These transmissions resembled primitive subspace transmissions, so we tried to decode them.
That is when we found out that these transmissions were in fact personalities from some of the Cybernetic organisms.
When we ran them through our systems, they began to take over the ship.
We weren’t able to warn you because of this, but we successfully isolated them, and sent them in a subroutine in Holodeck 3.
Still, for added security, we isolated its systems from our mainframe.
That is how we were able to communicate with them, as in the Holodeck, they were able to use it to create holographic bodies for themselves.
They are quite fascinating beings, even if they are no Borg.”
She paused for an instant, looking at the Captain, and then at the Admiral.

“Something strange happened when we first spoke with them, Sir.” T’Len said.
“She said she knew we had contact with the Galactica, meaning these creatures were capable of acquiring much data, and she asked to speak to you directly, Admiral.
She says her name is Boomer.”
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

Post by Praeothmin »

Chapter 17

The information hit Admiral Adama like a Troll’s punch, James saw.
In no time, though, surprise was replaced by anger.
His jaw squared up, his eyes became flaming pits, and his heavy breathing made the people around Adama become very nervous.
Even Captain Kirkinger, usually so stoic, was taken aback, James realized.
James himself had almost taken a step back.
Adama’s commanding presence, coupled with his anger, had made him appear as if he’d gained a few feet in height.

“I want to see her.” Adama said, his tone clearly indicating he was not asking for a favour, but almost issuing an order.

“Of course, Admiral!” The Captain said.
“I will take you to her immediately.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Was all Adama replied.

They made their way towards Holodeck 3 in silence, Adama looking straight forward, not acknowledging anything except his destination.
They arrived at Holodeck 3’s door, but as Cmdr T’Len was about to open it, Captain Kirkinger signalled for her to wait, and he looked at Adama.

“Before we go in,” He said, “I want to know who she is, and why she wants to talk to you.”

“Her name is Sharon Valerii. She was a member of my crew, a Raptor pilot under the call sign Boomer.
It turns out she was a Cylon Hybrid, and she tried to kill me.” He finished, with venom in his voice.

The revelation took the Starfleet crew and James aback.

“And I have no idea why she’d want to see me, but I wish to find out.” He added.

They went in the Holodeck, Adama’s guards entering with weapons at the ready.
Once in, James saw two beautiful women apparently waiting for them.
One was a tall blonde, about six feet in height, with blue eyes, a narrow nose and pearl white teeth.
She was wearing a bright red sleeveless dress which accentuated her curves quite nicely.
The other one was of Asian descent, with dark hair and a beautiful face, a small nose and dark eyes.
She was a bit shorter than the blonde, and was just as slim.
She wore combat pants, a grey sleeveless shirt with a black camisole over it.
James concluded that one to be Boomer.
The Asian looked serious, sad even, while the blonde had a slight, crooked smile, which accentuated when she looked at James.
James knew that kind of woman: she was a man eater, a predator who considered each and every man as prey, and he knew that at that moment, he became prey number one.

Admiral Adama barely glanced at the blonde, and then settled his full gaze, filled with hatred, upon the Asian one, confirming to James she was indeed Boomer.
She could barely return the Admiral’s stare, genuine shame painted on her face.
After a few moments of silence, when it was clear the Admiral would not speak first, Captain Kirkinger broke the silence.

“I am Captain Damien Kirkinger, of the USS Musashi, the ship you are currently on.
I was told one of you, Boomer, wanted to talk to the Admiral.”
He looked at both females, then settled his gaze on the Asian.
“So, what do you want with my new friend?” He finished sternly.

“Captain Kirkinger,” The blonde answered, “I am Caprica Six, and just like Boomer, I am a Hybrid Cylon.
Boomer wanted to meet with Admiral Adama because of what she did to him.”

“I am aware of what she tried to do.” The Captain replied.

“Then you can understand her discomfort and silence.
I, on the other hand, wanted to meet with you.” She said, looking at the Captain, once in a while letting her gaze glance towards James.

“Oh?” Replied Kirkinger, “And why would you want to meet me?”

“I wanted to meet the man who so easily destroyed our ships, and killed so many of our brothers and sisters.” She replied.
“I wanted to gain a better appreciation of the kind of man that casually destroys so many lives in a conflict of which he knows nothing about.”

The words affected the Captain, James saw, because Kirkinger’s expression, if only for an instant, changed to one of regret.
Regret was only there for a heartbeat, and no one had seemed to notice, James thought, except for the blonde Cylon.
And her micro-expression revealed that this was exactly what she had hoped for.

“I wanted to know who goes in guns blazing without even trying to communicate first, what kind of savage monster condemns unknown life forms to oblivion without a second thought.” She finished with a stern gaze, looking only at Captain Kirkinger.

James noticed that Kirkinger took a deep breath to calm himself before speaking, an action noticed by Admiral Adama as well as Caprica Six.
“I believe you have some of your facts wrong, young lady.” He said.
“We did not arrive guns blazing, as you say, or as you noticed, we would have easily destroyed all your ships.
We were first fired upon, and then protected two unarmed civilian ships from your vessels’ attacks.
An action which made me wonder what kind of savage monster acts that way.”

His use of Caprica Six’s own expression only seemed to amuse her, so he continued.

“The rest is a case of mistaken identities.”
The Captain became silent, waiting for Caprica Six’s response.

“We know,” She said with a smile, “We learned as much while looking through your ship logs and sensor readings.”

Captain Kirkinger became weary at that statement, which seemed to please her.
She continued:
“We know you mistook us for the Borg, so we researched them.
Quite an interesting read.
These Borg are powerful, and have great technologies, technologies we could use to wipe out God’s mistake, humans.”

Kirkinger became livid at those words, and so Adama, even though he didn’t exactly know who the Borg were or how powerful, understood from the Captain’s expression that the knowledge the Cylons had gained could mean the doom of the Colonies.

“You know, for such an advanced civilisation, your computer security is quite easy to defeat.
So easy, in fact, that it allows me to do this…”
She smiled, a wide and happy smile, one James didn’t care for.

Something beeped in the background, and James heard T’Len’s say:
“Captain, we’re reading an unauthorized attempt at a transmission at the triangulated coordinates for the Cylon home base.
It contains all our information on the Borg, Sir.”

Caprica Six let out a great, powerful laugh at the surprise on Kirkinger’s face.

“Kill the transmission!” He said to T’Len, who was working like a maniac on the Holodeck’s control panel.

“I am trying Captain, but she is bypassing all our secure relays, using multiple sub-systems to re-route all commands.” T’Len stated impassibly.

The level of Caprica Six’s laugh increased.
“You will all die, Captain. Your intervention not only failed at saving the Colonies, but you’ve given us the means to destroy all of humanity forever.”

“No, he hasn’t!” T’Len responded, hitting one last button.
“Your signal has been killed, the information purged, your control of every system outside of this room lost.”

“What? NO!” Yelled Caprica Six.
“You will still pay for all you did, Captain” She said venomously.

She launched herself at Captain Kirkinger, faster than anyone could see, except for James.
Since he had not seen anyone that fast ever since leaving his reality, he had almost been taken by surprise, and so reacted slightly slower than usual.
It had almost been enough for Caprica Six to get to the Captain.
Almost.
James, who had been standing to the right of Captain Kirkinger, took a step to his left and, while grabbing the Captain to shove him out of the way of the attack, launched a spinning right kick in Caprica Six’s abdomen.
The kick had been full force, yet it had only succeeded in deflecting Caprica Six’s attack towards Lt. Harriman.
The Lt. was already getting in a guard position, his left hand coming up in front of him, his right staying near his plexus for defense, when Caprica was upon him.
Her right arm swept his left downward out of the way, her left hand balling into a fist, and she punched him in the face with all her strength.
The punch snapped his neck back, but Harriman had rolled with the hit somewhat, and so he was still standing when Caprica Six punched her right fist through his ribcage, all the way to his heart, shocking James with her ferocity.
He used her attack as a distraction and side-kicked her at the base of her spine with all his strength, anger fueling him.
But instead of the satisfying crack of breaking vertebrae, all he heard was a loud thump.
The blow did propel Caprica Six at the Holodeck’s wall, face first, but it didn’t seem to faze her at all, as she turned towards him, her smile still present on her face.

How powerful are these bastards? James wondered.
How much punishment can that slitch take?

Adama’s Marines had, by that time, reacted in the only way they were trained to: they aimed at the Cylons, one aiming at Boomer, the other at Caprica Six.
The one aiming at Caprica Six fired as soon as she was clear from James, but the bullets ricocheted around the Holodeck, hitting the walls, the floor, the ceiling, one bullet even being deflected at James, hitting his armor’s chest plate.

“Stop firing!” Captain Kirkinger said, “They’re made of forcefields, your bullets won’t affect them.”

Caprica Six only smiled more as she advanced cautiously towards James.
She looked at him playfully, almost languorously.

“It seems we Cylons aren’t the only ones full of surprises, aren’t we, James Reynolds?” She said.

Frag! He thought, that slitch knows about me. Doesn’t matter, she has no real clue who she’s fragging with.
She launched a right-handed punch at James’s face, but as soon as James had blocked it, she retracted her arm and launched a kick from her left leg to his crotch.
James blocked her strikes, and retaliated with some of his own.
On it went for some time, Caprica Six launching strike after strike at James, each one blocked, while James successfully retaliated many times, though without any noticeable effect.
Still, he had no trouble blocking her strikes, because as fast as she was, she was not as fast as James.
Her strength, though, was amazing.
She was easily as strong as he was, and the longer they sparred, the stronger she became, making each parry more and more difficult for James.
After a few minutes of fighting, the others could only watch in horror at Lt. Harriman’s body, and at a fight more people feared would end up the same way for James.
James also feared for his life, as he had starting fighting someone with a burly Orc’s strength, but who was now hitting him with almost as much strength as Rhino the Troll, one of James's heavily cybered-up Shadowrunning contacts.
And he was getting tired at the efforts he needed to make blocking her attacks, while she seemed not to tire.
Most unnerving to James was the smile which was still on her face.
The smile of a predator, the smile of impending doom, the smile of Death.

Then it happened.
James tried to block a punch which threw him on a wall, and she waded in, oblivious to his kicks and punches and elbow shots as her hands gripped his throat, and started to squeeze the life out of him.

She looked at him, smiling, mocking, and then whispered:
“And now you die knowing you couldn’t protect your friends, James Reynolds.”
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

Post by Praeothmin »

After a two week vacation where I visited Barcelona and the south of France, here's an update... :)

Chapter 18

And then she disappeared, vanished into thin air as if she had never been there.
James fell on the floor hard, his semi-conscious state barely registering the movements around him, the hands helping him sit up against the wall, checking him to see if he was injured.
He did not notice when Cmdr. Teramak came in to witness a colleague’s death, or when he snapped out at T’Len and accused her of being responsible for the events that happened, before Captain Kirkinger silenced him with an order.
Then his vision un-blurred, his senses focusing once more on his surroundings, and James was once again part of the fully conscious world.

“Yes Sir,” He heard Cmdr. T’Len say, “Contrary to what Lt. Cmdr. Teramak believes, we were certain these entities could not take over the Holodeck, as we had initiated all our security protocols around and in it.
They showed remarkable adaptability to be able to bypass those security measures.”

“What?” Was the indignant reaction from Teramak, “These monstrosities kill one of my best men, almost take the life of a valued ally, and our Chief Engineer praises them?
Would you have been more impressed had they succeeded in KILLING OUR CAPTAIN, CMDR.?” Teramak said angrily, advancing on T’Len threateningly.

“ENOUGH, TERAMAK!” Captain Kirkinger bellowed.
“What happened was regrettable, and I am as sad as you are at our loss, unless you doubt it…” Kirkinger said, staring directly in Teramak’s eyes.
When the Andorian lowered his gaze, shaking his head, Kirkinger continued.
“But I will NOT have my crew at each other’s throats because they could not contain their anger.
It that clear?” He asked, looking both at Teramak and T’Len.

“Of course, Sir!” T’Len replied, with her usual calm.

“Yes Sir!” Said Teramak, although his face clearly showed he didn’t like it.

They all looked at the Cylon called Boomer, who was still there, unthreatening, barely raising her eyes to look at them.

“Why haven’t you attacked us?” Captain Kirkinger asked, clearly trying to remain calm despite what had happened to his crewman.

“Because,” Boomer replied tentatively, “I regret what I did to Admiral Adama. I regret all the pain I caused to him and all my friends on Galactica.
I wanted the end of the war, I wanted for both our societies to live together on New Caprica, but this failure almost made me lose faith in the possibility for peaceful co-existence of our two races.
But then, after my ship was destroyed, I was somehow transported here, in your computer system, where I learned about your Federation, where dozens of different races of different cultural views live together in peace and harmony, and help each other grow and prosper.
So I realized that if you could do it, that if you could even turn sworn enemies like Andorians and Vulcans into allies, that we could also do this.”

“Our Federation, our harmony, isn’t perfect.” Captain Kirkinger said.
“As you surely noticed earlier, some rough edges still remain.” He finished, looking at Teramak.

“It’s not perfect, but it does work, and the fact that your crewmember obviously feels bad about the situation proves this.
I fear it will not be easy, but I know now it is possible.”

“Boomer,” Adama began softly, “I cannot say I trust you right now, or that I can ever forgive you for what you did to me, but if you can help end this war, if you have any insight on how we can do this, then for the sake of your old friends on Galactica, please tell us.”

He was looking at Boomer with less anger now, perhaps tempted to believe her by her inaction during the earlier fight, where the Cylons, for one brief moment, held all the advantages, and where she had indeed not attacked anyone.
Boomer noticed his warmer gaze, and smiled.

“Thank you, Admiral, for wanting to believe me, and for looking at me no longer as a sworn enemy, but as someone for whom you used to have some respect.
I will indeed help you, in any way I can.
I believe that the reason my race is so sure of its superiority is because we can normally resurrect after our death.
Our consciousness, as your crew discovered, is transferred to our resurrection ship, and downloaded into a new body.
This body is then ready to function in a few seconds.
This means that, up to now, most Cylons never died, except when out of transmission range from our ship.
I believe if you remove this resurrection ability from us, Captain, the Cylons will be much more inclined to negociate, or at least consider a truce.”

“Boomer,” Kirkinger said, “While we ponder what you’ve told us, I’m afraid you’ll have to be restrained to the Holodeck’s systems. I can’t run the risk of having you turn on us during combat.”

Surprise was etched on Boomer’s face.
“You mean you aren’t going to delete me like you did Caprica Six?”

“Not unless I have to. You may not be like us, but you are most certainly a sentient being, and destroying you would mean murder.
It is not part of Starfleet’s philosophy.” Captain Kirkinger explained.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have things to take care of.”

They exited the Holodeck, and started walking towards a Turbolift, when Adama asked.

“Captain, how was that Cylon able to attack us if she was only a hologram?”

“Our Holodecks use forcefields to re-create physical objects, and places them in the room. These objects feel real, and are not simple three-dimensional images, but they cannot exist outside of these special rooms.
We normally have safety protocols which prevent people from getting injured, but this Cylon was able to overcome them.
As Cmdr. T’Len stated, they must be very good and adaptable to have done that.”

“Well, that’s how they got our fleet, Captain.” Adama said sadly.
“We had one-hundred-twenty ships, the Galactica being one of the oldest.
All other ships had state-of-the-art computers and software installed for better fleet coordination.
Unknown to us, the Cylons had infiltrated that system.
When they attacked, all ships were rendered inoperative and destroyed.
Pegasus was spared because her computer system was offline at the time of the attack, and I had refused to have that system installed on Galactica.
Invading computers and software is their specialty.
Don’t feel bad about what happened.
If anything, the fact you took control back from them this fast proves to me how much more advanced and capable you are against them, than us.” Adama finished.

“Well, seeing as how you are still alive and kicking with only two ships out a one-hundred and twenty, I’d say you’re doing well.” Kirkinger replied.
“And since Lt. Harriman died, I’d say we didn’t retake control fast enough.” He concluded.

“We lost billions in the Cylon attacks on the twelve colonies.” Adama added.
Our fleet originally had close to fifty thousand people, all which remained out of billions of humans.
The Cylon’s constant attacks steadily decreased that number down to the low thirty thousands.”

Looks of horror and disgust spread on the Starfleet personnel’s faces.
There was a moment of silence, as everyone looked at Lt. Harriman being taken away on a gravity stretcher.

It was Captain Kirkinger who broke the silence.

“Let’s get your ships repaired, equipped and ready to defend the rest of your fleet.” He said with steel in his voice.

“I agree, Captain. Even without your weapons, the fully operational and restocked Galactica and Pegasus will make every Cylon pay for any attacks they could try.” Adama replied, his resolve just as firm as the Captain’s.

“There’s something else I will do for you.”Captain Kirkinger said.
“Once your ship is repaired and all the supplies and spare parts are loaded, my ship will accompany yours to the Colonial fleet, and we will use our sensors to ferret out all the Cylons who possibly hide in it.”

Admiral Adama smiled upon hearing the words, for while he understood the logictical nightmare it would be for his crew to retrieve and arrest all the Cylons, knowing where they were would be an incredible boon to the fleet.
And as a wise man had once said: knowing was half the battle.

And so they worked tirelessly for hours upon hours, days upon days, the Musashi’s crew manufacturing repairs parts using the industrial replicators on their ship, and loading them on Raptors and shuttles to send them to the Galactica.
Even the Galactica’s nuclear warhead stock was replenished, as well as extra ones for Pegasus.
James had wondered why the Transporters were not used to make the material transfer easier, and so had asked the Captain about it.
Captain Kirkinger had told him that he didn’t want to unveil the Transporters to the Colonials just yet, believing it could be a tactical advantage eventually, one which spies could learn of and report to their masters if shown too early.
That was why they had not been presented to Admiral Adama on his quick tour of the ship.

The biggest pieces, the external armor plating and the internal structural beams, were transferred to the Galactica using the Musashi’s and Starfleet shuttles’ tractor beams.
They were welded in place using the Federation’s molecular welders, which re-arranged the atoms of two different pieces as if they had been moulded together.
The Starfleet crew were also replenishing the Colonial fleet’s Raptors and Vipers spare parts supply, and even had manufactured parts that had been requested to the Galactica by other Colonial ships.

While they were repairing Galactica, recon missions were being flown to ensure no Cylons were nearby preparing an attack.
The Musashi’s sensors were also hard at work, nothing escaping their attention, measuring every stray photon, every minute radiation trace, and mostly, recording each and every Cylon energy signature within the Cylon system, where the dead Cylons had tried to transmit their consciousness to.
The Captain and his Tactical officer talked often with Boomer about the Cylons and their tactics, verifying all information obtained through Adama and his crew.
They were getting as familiar as possible with the Cylons in order to increase the chances of success for a possible attack on the resurrection ship.

James had organized a small funeral ceremony for Lt. Harriman, which many attended, including Admiral Adama.
Cmdr. Teramak had delivered a short, but powerful eulogy for the deceased, which brought tears to many in attendance.
He then spent the rest of the Galactica repairs and restocking period training the Musashi’s security personnel with Cmdr. Teramak, to increase their combat effectiveness.
This was his way of coping with Harriman’s loss.
Although James hadn’t known the man that well, he had really connected with him, and knew they could have become the best of friends, a rarity in the shadows where James usually lived.
So affected by Harriman’s loss was James, that he ignored Doctor Numorr’s many invitations for lunches or supper, foregoing any socializing and immersing himself fully in his and other’s training.

After two weeks of hard work, the Musashi was in pristine condition and the Galactica showed almost no sign of combat.
Its structural integrity had been restored, and both flight decks were fully operational.
They even had more Vipers built, which were now extra ships since they did not have the necessary crew to operate them.

Admiral Adama was ecstatic.

“I’ll be damned! We did in two weeks what would have required a few months in Drydock to accomplish.” He said.
“We can never repay you for all you’ve done for us, Captain Kirkinger, but believe me, you have our sincerest gratitude.”

“Well,” Kirkinger started hesitantly, “I think you’ll be happier still when I tell you this: we cheated a little when we rebuilt parts for Galactica. We manufactured the armor covering the bridge area of the ship in Tritanium, the same material our hull is made out of.
Essentially, your hull at that location will be able to stand up to three times the fire power it was rated for.
Our limited resources here meant we could not manufacture more and replace the entire ship’s armor, but at least the most essential area of your ship will be able to take a pounding and remain functional.”

Admiral Adama was very pleased with the news.

“And we manufactured all Viper cockpits from transparent Aluminum.
At the same thickness as your specs required, it has 6 times the structural integrity of your standard reinforced Plexiglas.
Even Cylon Raider bullets will have a hard time penetrating it, which means less dead pilots in combat from near hits.”

“This will increase our chances of survival so much. Thank you, again, for all you’ve done.” Adama said, hope and resolve so strong in his voice.

“Well, before you thank us,” Kirkinger said, “let me at least show you where Earth is.”
The truth always depends on which side of the fence you're standing... ;)
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

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Chapter 19

Captain Kirkinger led the Admiral down brightly lit and twisting corridors through the center of the Akira-class vessel.
Adama admired the apparent calm and serenity of the crew, and the cleanliness of the air around them.
He was reminded that he had noticed a drastic increase in the air quality in Galactica since the Starfleet engineers had provided all the colonial ships with brand new air scrubbers.
This increase in air quality had been received well by all, and the restocked fleet, in brand new spare parts and fresh water, had seen the morale of the fleet increase immensely.

Admiral Adama, once all the repairs had been done on Galactica, had ordered all ships to come back at New Caprica, in order for the two Battlestars and the Starfleet vessel to be able to defend the fleet more efficiently.
The newly constructed Vipers and Raptors were flying in protective circles around the fleet, while the three main battleships were positioned in a triangle around the Colonial fleet.
Now the Colonial fleet was enjoying quick trips to the surface of the planet, always keeping a wary eye out for Cylons.

The Musashi had then scanned for any possible Cylons on the fleet, and easily located them.
Captain Kirkinger then asked Admiral Adama to prepare the holding cells, and send Marines to guard them.
When the Admiral stated that he needed to send Marines to retrieve the scattered enemy first, Captain Kirkinger unveiled to his ally the greatest Starfleet wonder yet: the Transporter.
When located, Cylons were transported directly in the Galactica’s brig, under Colonial Marine surveillance.
Twenty-three Cylons were detected and sent to the Galactica, twenty-three very surprised Cylons.
Their immediate threat to the Colonial fleet had been eliminated in less than a few minutes, much to their dismay.
Some, recognizing the incredible threat the Starfleet vessel represented, committed suicide, no doubt so their consciousness would be transferred to the resurrection ship, allowing them to inform their brethren of the Musashi.
Unfortunately for them, the Musashi crew had dealt with these types of transmissions before, and as soon as they detected them, the transmissions were jammed, and dispersed.

Adama was pondering the Colonials’s newfound luck when Captain Kirkinger led him in an empty room with a console in the middle.
The room was square-shaped, with an area of approximately nine meters, and shared many similarities with the Holodeck.
The only difference was the small console protruding from the ground, exactly in the center of the room.
It was situated at a height of 1.20 meters on a thin rod, its flat surface perfectly horizontal, with a length of thirty centimetres and a width of 50 centimetres.
As the doors closed behind them, Captain Kirkinger went to the console, tapped on a few keys, and the lights in the room dimmed.
The walls were suddenly replaced by a starry field to the left, and a planetary surface to the right.
Adama knew he was staring at a hologram, he was certain of it, yet the crisp clarity of the image was such, that he felt as if he was looking directly at New Caprica through the canopy of a Raptor.
The planetary surface then receded rapidly, and suddenly Adama was looking at New Caprica’s solar system, with its five planets and the star they were orbiting.
This system receded again until all that could be distinguished of the New Caprica system was its sun, and the neighbouring star systems.
The holographic display was flashing distances in light-years, as well as coordinates of these systems in relation to the New Caprica system.

“This is incredible!” Adama almost whispered.

“I know!” Kirkinger replied with a grin.
“What you see here are the adjacent systems and their current positions.
Our Long-Range Sensors use subspace technology to detect and map out spatial bodies in real-time.
This allows us to calculate trajectories based on actual, current data, not affected by the time delay issues inherent in optical telescopes.
This way, we do not need our computers to recalculate the systems’ drift in time and compensate for them, which reduces the necessary processing power for astrogation calculations.
Now, watch as I show you where Earth is.”

Adama looked attentively at the display, as it changed once more, zooming out again until all that remained of the New Caprica star system was a bright yellow dot in the holographic display of the surrounding space.
A bright red circle appeared over the system, and a dotted white line originating from it started forming, rapidly covering the distance between the New Caprica system and a new one, unknown to Adama.
The word “Earth” appeared over the system, in neon orange letters.
A distance appeared along the dotted white line, pegging Earth at 50 light-years from their current location.

“I cannot believe this!” Exclaimed Adama, clearly excited.
“According to your display, Earth is only four jumps away. We can be there in less than three hours.”

“What?” Was Kirkinger’s response.
“Your ships can travel fifty light-years in less than three hours?”

“Yours can’t?” Asked a very surprised Admiral Adama.

“No! Our ship needs about half a day at our maximum faster-than-light speed to travel such a distance.
Although, in her defense, the Musashi is not the fastest ship in the fleet, the Intrepid-class has that honor, with the Sovereign-class a close second.
How does your FTL work?” A very curious Kirkinger asked.

“Well, I couldn’t explain it to you in details, but it essentially bends space in two folds, and creates a wormhole allowing us to travel straight to our destination.” Adama explained.

“I see!” Said the Captain, as if that brief explanation had answered his question.
“ In essence, you have achieved what we call a Slipstream Drive.
You see, our ship’s Warp Drive, which I’ve shown you earlier, creates a bubble of what we call Subspace around the ship.
This bubble compresses space in front of the ship, and expands it in the back, therefore creating a pulling effect which propels us forward at FTL speeds.
Since the ship is in Subspace, we are not violating the fundamental laws of our universe.
But the faster you wish to go, to deeper in subspace you need to be, and the greater is the required energy for FTL travel.
There is an advancement called TransWarp the Federation has been working on for years, which is possessed by the Borg, but we have yet to perfect it.
And of course, there is the Slipstream Drive, which basically does what you mentioned.
It creates wormholes between two points of the universe, allowing for fast travel.
This is also something we’ve been working on with limited success.
If you don’t mind, we’d like to take a look at your FTL drives in order to understand how it works, and if we could possibly replicate it.” Kirkinger finished, a hopeful glint in his eye.

“Captain, I would certainly be the vilest of man if I refused you this information after all you’ve done for us.
You may send your engineers to study our FTL at their leisure at your earliest convenience.
In fact, if you’ll allow me to use your communications system, I’ll give the orders to my teams to assist yours any way they can.”

Captain Kirkinger set up the communications with the Galactica, and Adama gave his orders.
When he was done, Kirkinger lost no time in sending a full team of Engineers, under the supervision of Cmdr. T’Len, to the Galactica with orders to study and analyse their FTL.
Once done, he shifted his attention back to the display in front of them, and tapped a few more keys.
Another system, located halfway between them and Earth, was highlighted in red colors.

“What does this system represent?” He asked, certain he already knew the answer.

“This is the location of the Cylons’ resurrection hub.” Kirkinger replied.
“As you can see, it is located directly between us and Earth.
From their position, they could find you and Earth, and do the same thing they did to you here, on New Caprica.”

“Except that if they tried it, they would find a fully restored and re-armed duo of Battlestars to deter them.” Adama stated defiantly.

“Yes, but what if they attacked in force?” Asked Kirkinger.
“What if it were eight ships attacking, or even ten?
Even two fully operational Battlestars wouldn’t stand a chance.” He finished.

Adama had to agree, although he didn’t like it.

“I can’t believe we’ve finally found Earth, and we can’t get to it because the Cylons are closer to it than us.”

He was fuming, Kirkinger could see it.
He knew the Admiral would like what he was going to say.

“You will be able to go to Earth, Admiral, because while two Battlestars cannot take on half a dozen Basestars, the fully repaired Musashi can.” He said with a smile.

Adama looked expectantly at Captain Kirkinger, waiting for him to continue.

“Since we aren’t ready to reproduce the phenomenon that brought us here just yet, my senior staff and I devised a plan for dealing with the Cylon resurrection hub.
We will make sure these bastards are never a serious threat to humanity, ever again.” He said with finality.
Last edited by Praeothmin on Thu Aug 16, 2012 3:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
The truth always depends on which side of the fence you're standing... ;)
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

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Chapter 20

It was silently floating in space, a graceful behemoth almost twice the size of a Basestar, with smaller ships flying about, like moths flying around a flame, patrolling around it, and protecting it.
The Cylon Raiders flew in tight formations, always half-a-dozen strong, with over a hundred such formations filling the space around the resurrection hub.
Farther away, forming some kind of protecting ring around the hub, were nine Basestars, floating lazily in a protective pattern.

Suddenly, in a flash of bright white light, an intruder appeared at a few thousand kilometres away.
It was smaller than the Basestars, sleek and fast, and all the Cylon Dradises immediately painted it as an enemy ship.
It pointed itself towards the hub, and accelerated towards it.
Frantic signals emanated from one Basestar in particular, recognizing the enemy that had so easily destroyed two of their sister ships a few weeks before.
The fearful Basestar sent a signal to the hub, telling it to use its FTL and run away, in order to secure itself, in fact also sending the same advice to all ships in presence.
But before any of them could do so, golden lances of energy emerged from the approaching enemy ship.
Three such beams hit the Resurrection hub in specific locations, instantly disabling its FTL capability.
The hub sent a panicked message to all Basestars, indicating its predicament, asking for help.
The CYlon Raiders all converged on the incoming ship, firing all they had, including their missiles, but every weapon was stopped by a glowing blue field surrounding the enemy ship.
The first Raiders to intercept the ship had not know about this, and thus ploughed right into the shield of the advancing attacker, getting destroyed in the process.
All other Raiders immediately veered off, and sped away from the impregnable force field.

The Basestars’ strategy was different, however.
Instead of going towards the enemy, they all converged in front of it, in order to block its path, and thus its targeting solution, to the hub.
At the same time, they fired loads upon loads of missiles at it.

“Captain,” Said Cmdr. Teramak, “I read enemy weapons fired at us.
Impact in less than two minutes.”

“How many?” Kirkinger asked.

“Over one hundred and eighty missiles, Sir!” A surprised Teramak said.

“Re-route all emergency power to forward shields, and try to take out as many missiles as you can.” The Captain ordered the Tactical officer.

“Phasers would be ineffective against so many missiles, but a few Photon Torpedoes set for close detonation would take out many of them.” Teramak stated.

“Make it so!” Was all Kirkinger replied.

The Tactical Officer’s fingers flew over the console, unleashing a quick spread of four small yellow suns that streaked towards the incoming Cylon missile barrage.
They detonated amidst the missile swarm, destroying the majority of them, but close to fifty successfully passed through.

“Brace for impact!” The Captain yelled, his call reverberating through the ship’s speakers.

The missiles impacted on the Akira-class’s forward shields, rocking the ship violently, throwing a few people to the floor, while others were thrown against bulkheads.
On the bridge, one console sparked and exploded, luckily injuring no one in the process, the automated fire suppressant systems ensuring no flames could form.

“Shields down to fifty percent!” Teramak stated.

“Helm, evasive maneuvers, show them our Dorsal shields. Teramak, target those ships and fire at will, but only use Phasers for now, use the Torpedoes as flak protection.” The Captain ordered.
“Let’s hope we can last long enough for our little surprise to work.”

***
The little ship materialized in an explosion of white, searing light, on the other side of the Resurrection hub, away from the action and all the enemy ships.
The Raptor’s sub light engines briefly flared, pushing it towards one of the landing bays of the hub.
As the pilot quickly and expertly landed it inside the pressurized bay, its door opened, and its passengers got out.
Four men exited the craft in standard cover formation, each of them wearing full combat armor and armed with Type-3 Phaser rifles.
Their leader, a hulking man wearing an even heavier suit of armor, armed only with a silenced heavy pistol in an underarm holster, jumped down from the craft, making no noise upon contact with the floor, despite his armor.
He gestured to his team, each and every one of them handpicked for this mission, and they immediately took position around the craft, ensuring its protection, as it was their only way out of there.
The group’s leader signalled the pilot to stay in the craft, and leave the engines on for a quick escape.
The pilot was clearly uncomfortable being so close to his sworn enemies, but did his best to hide it, and stay calm.
Satisfied his troops were properly positioned, he turned around and sprinted out of the landing bay.
He moved so fast he had looked like a blur to his teammates, still surprising them someone so big could move so fast, even though they had seen him in action before.

The man moved quickly and purposefully through he winding corridors of the hub, following the plan he had been given.
He was making good time towards his objective, moving with a rapid gait, but very silently, as stealth was important.
He rounded a bend and found himself face to face with a metallic humanoid being, just as tall as he was, if not taller.
The humanoid’s body was slim, with a face that looked like a closed medieval helmet, long limbs and fingers that ended in sharp claws.
Its body jerked up, as if surprised, then the Cylon –because it was a Cylon- attacked him.
It swung its right arm across his face, claws extended, or tried to.
As the arm started swinging, he stepped back, leaning backwards, letting the swing pass him by, and then he took a right step forward, bringing him back inside the Cylon’s range.
His right arm moved up to intercept the incoming backhand, stopping it in its track, to the surprise of both combatants.
He had expected the hit to push him back, where he would have been in the perfect position to hit the Cylon’s right leg behind the knee joint and bring him down and attack its head, but the blow, while strong, had only moved him slightly.
The Cylon’s surprise, again only inferred y its body movements and slight hesitation, showed it had not expected its blow to have been stopped so completely either.
Knowing he didn’t have much time, the armoured man lifted his left leg and kicked the Cylon in the torso with all his strength, pushing it a few feet back, and again surprising it at the strength of his obviously human opponent.
In a blinding move, the man drew his weapon and fired three times at the Cylon’s head.
Even silenced, the weapon made loud noises in the corridor.
The armor-piercing rounds cored through the Cylon’s head, destroying its processor, shutting down its body, stopping it mid-step towards him.
It fell down to the floor in a clanking noise, which the man would have normally prevented, but having fired his gun, he had decided the Cylon’s body could not be noisier than his weapon.
All thoughts of stealth gone, the man, his weapon still in hand, started running towards his objective.
The plans he had been given were extremely precise, so he was there in less than two minutes.

The room he entered was devoid of furniture.
The only thing inside was some sort of reservoir, two and a half meters long by one and a half meters wide.
He could see some type of controls at the head of the reservoir, and tubes running from and to it.
It was filled with some kind of viscous liquid, and the man could see a form inside it.
Satisfied he was at the right place, he opened his backpack, and brought out a Tricorder.
He opened it and made sure it was working correctly.
The room had only two entry points, neither one with a door, so he kept an eye on both while working.
He went to the controls, and operated it as he had been shown, disconnecting it from the hub’s network, and connecting it to the modified Tricorder.
Once he was certain the connection was good, he activated the transfer application.
All the information contained in the Tricorder was transferred to the reservoir’s computer in less than ten seconds.
Once that was done, he realized that he was going to have to do what he hated the most on missions: wait.
He didn’t have to wait for too long, though, because less than a minute later, the form moved in the reservoir.
A slim hand lifted from the viscous cocoon, and grabbed the side of the reservoir, pulling the rest of the body up with it.
Then the form, slightly disoriented, sat there and looked around.
Seeing him, she smiled.

“I’m happy to see you’re a man of your word, James.” Boomer said.
“I wasn’t sure your Captain truly meant it when he said he was willing to get me a body.”

“I’m glad he was,” James replied, “Because it’s a nice one.”

Boomer understood the implied intention and, her smile turning sheepish, she said:
“I hope I don’t have to run through corridors naked, James.”

Smiling, even though she couldn’t see him through his helmet’s visor, he pulled out a towel from his backpack and handed it to her, as well as some clothing.

“As much as I’d like that, I would be hard pressed to concentrate on the mission.” He said with clear humour in his voice, turning his back to her, offering some privacy.

Blushing at the comment, she stepped out of the reservoir, towelled herself off, and dressed up.

***

“Shields down to twenty-three percent!” called Teramak.
“Minor Hull breach on decks 15 and 16, Port Torpedo launchers are offline.
The Doctor reports three casualties.”

The bridge was in disarray, as during the fight a few other consoles had blow up, seriously injuring one crewmember, and hurting a few others.
The ship was continually being pelted with missiles, Teramak expanding more and more Torpedoes to protect it.
The fight wasn’t going that well for the other side either, though, as the Musashi’s Phaser barrage had destroyed three ships, and crippled another, leaving the Akira-class vessel to contend against five enemy Basestars.
The remaining Basestars fought like cornered beasts, though, and were making the Musashi pay for each and every kill.

“How much more time does James have?” Captain Kirkinger asked the Cmdr.

“Less than five minutes.” Was the reply.

“Let’s hope he’s as good as we all think he is, because I sure as hell don’t want to read his eulogy.” Kirkinger added.

“If this continues, Sir, he’ll have to read ours.” Teramak replied.

****

Once Boomer was dressed up and ready to go, James handed her an extra pistol, headed out of the resurrection room, and lead the way back to the waiting Raptor.
They didn’t make it far before they encountered Cylon patrols.
Two Cylon centurions, as Boomer had called them, appeared at the other end of a corridor in front of them.
Before they could react, however, James had lifted his weapon and fired six times, three shots per Centurion, all of them headshots.
As with the first one, these two fell down immediately, their central processors destroyed.

“God, you’re fast!” Boomer whispered.

He signalled for her to follow, and continued on as fast as he could while still remaining slow enough for Boomer to keep up.
They were making good time though, because while Boomer wasn’t as fast as he was, she was still faster than an un-augmented human.
They were nearing the landing bay, Boomer trailing slightly behind him, when he heard her yelp in surprise.
He whirled around like lightning, and saw a Centurion grab her by the wrists.
It was starting to pull her with it, obviously the stronger of the two, when James put three rounds in its head.
As he was turning around to scan for other enemies, a Centurion grabbed James’s right hand, and lifted it high, aiming the barrel at the ceiling.
James let go of his weapon, caught it with his left hand, and emptied the rest of his clip in his opponent.
As the Centurion fell down, James ejected the empty clip from his pistol and went for a fresh one.
He couldn’t complete the move because a Centurion speared him in the gut, doubling James over, knocking the wind out of him, and throwing him to the ground.
It let itself fall over James, pinning him momentarily to the floor.
Its right hand pinned James’s gun wielding left to the ground, and its right hand, claws fully extended, went for his armor’s neck joint, its weakest point.
Again, James’s strength and speed saved him, for his right hand caught the Centurion’s mid-distance, and stopped it, if only temporarily.
He then lifted his right leg and, twisting sideways out from under the Cylon, brought it up and over its head, to finally wrap it around the unprotected neck.
His left leg coming up against the Cylon’s torso for leverage, just below its right armpit, James bucked and stiffened his legs.
The intended effect happened, and the macine’s neck broke under the strain, disconnecting the head from the body.
Gunfire erupted, and James looked up to see Boomer firing down a corridor, most likely at other Centurions.
One was at her back, holding its right hand in front, apparently frozen.
Its fingers then bent backwards, spreading out as they did, and two tubes extended from the Centurion’s arm.
James realized it was a gun as the machine was taking aim at Boomer’s back.
As he freed himself from his damaged attacker, and started running towards the Cylon intent on killing Boomer, the short staccato of an SMG was heard, and shots ricocheted around James, some even hitting his armor.
He felt the impact as one or two rounds penetrated the back of his armor, one close to his left kidney, the other hitting the underside of his left arm.
His Pain Compensators went into overdrive, and a heartbeat later he barely felt anything as his blood started pouring out from his wounds.
As he reached his opponent, his left hand shot out and grabbed the Centurion’s right hand, while his right hand reached at his belt, retrieving his collapsible stick.
He lifted the Cylon’s arm as it started spewing hot lead -the first bullets whizzing centimetres above Boomer’s head- and made it turn in a large circle, up overhead, and then down back towards the other Centurion, all the while still firing.
Bullets were chewing the walls, the ceiling, and when the guns pointed at the Centurion who had shot James, the bullets chewed its body apart.
At the same time James was doing this, his right hand snapped, extending the stick, and then he brought it up and around, through the Cylon’s visor, penetrating deep in its head.
The Cylon jerked a bit, and then fell limply to the floor.
Looking at Boomer, he noticed she had dropped to one knee in a defensive crouch in his direction, her eyes showing panic.
At first, James thought she was panicking because of the shots that had almost gotten her, but then he realised that she was looking behind him, and whet was panicking her was there.
He whirled around in a crouch, ready to attack, and found himself facing a small man wearing black clothing, like that of a priest.
He had a weathered face, like a man for whom life had not been kind, and in one hand he was holding a cigar.
His eyes were piercing, with an intense gaze James had rarely seen.
The two Centurions behind him, with their guns trained on James and Boomer were what had stopped James in his tracks, though.

“I’m sure you can take a few shots and survive, my big friend, but she won’t.” Said the man.

Looking at Boomer, he said:
“I’m disappointed in you, travelling with these monsters, these killers.
Do you know what they can do if they destroy this hub?
They will eliminate our race.
YOUR race.
Is that what you wish?”

“They are simply doing what we did to the Colonials, Cavill.” Boomer said defiantly.
“They are simply equalizing the playing field.”

“God doesn’t want the playing field equalized, my deluded child.” He replied.
“God wants US, his real children, to prevail, and destroy this parasitic infection calling itself humanity, in order to bring light to this Galaxy.
Look at them, so weak and worthless.
They fear death, when we do not, when we need not.
Even now, our ships are showing these demons what it costs to attack us, God’s creatures.
Each and everyone they kill shall come back here, in this, our version of immortality.
While they willow away in time, we will still be here.
When their pathetic race has been forgotten, we will still be here.
I still have hope for you, Sharon, but you need to purge these emotions you have developed for these worthless creatures, and you need to ask yourself this question:
Do I want to die like these animals, or live as a god?”

James looked at Boomer, and saw she was hesitating, her gun-holding hand trembling.
She looked into Cavill’s eyes, and for a long while she seemed to mull over what he had said.
James knew he’d have to act soon, sure he would prevail in this situation, even unarmed, but he wondered if he’d have to take her out too.
Then, her trembling stopped.
She looked up, straight into Cavill’s eyes, and he knew what she was going to do before she did it.

“I want to live, I want to FEEL my life, to fear losing it in order to savor every moment of it.” She said as she raised her gun towards Cavill’s face, at the same time the Centurions fired.
James had already moved between Boomer and the Centurions, though, and his armor took the brunt of the attack.
Half the bullets tore through his protective plating, the damage overloading his Pain Compensators in an intense flash of pain.
He heard Boomer cry out in surprise, her gun firing, and he lost consciousness as two golden beams erupted from the Centurions’ chests, destroying them.
Then Blackness enveloped him.

***

“Sir, we’ve lost our forward shields, and overall shielding is at thirteen percent.” A tense Cmdr. Teramak stated.
“If we take another volley like this, we might not survive it.”

The Musashi rocked again, this time hit solidly, and the explosion drowned out the Captain’s reply.
The fight had gone from bad to worse, even though the Musashi had destroyed two other Basestars.
The three remaining ones, and the Resurrection hub now fighting for its survival, were unleashing everything they had at the Federation ship.
Raiders, realizing their weapons were useless, had decided that ramming the enemy ship was better than to let it near the hub, and so they had started to fly directly at the Musashi, crashing into its weakened shields, and in some places, into its bare hull.
Plasma was venting from many hull breaches, and two more Torpedo launchers were now offline.

“Target the hub and fire all remaining torpedo tubes,” Captain Kirkinger said, “It’s too late for our team aboard the hub.
We need to take them out now, or we’ll never get another chance.” He yelled at Teramak over the noise.

“All tubes loaded, and target is locked.” Said Teramak.

“FIRE!” Kirkinger growled, and Teramak gladly followed the order.

Eight launchers spat their load of torpedoes, over thirty yellow orbs streaking towards the hub.
The crippled Basestar still had some propulsion, and so it tried to place itself between the hub and the incoming missiles.
It partially succeeded, the first seven torpedoes impacting it, pulverizing it to the point where the following torpedoes had no trouble passing through.
The remaining Basestars and the hub fired missiles at them to destroy them, and their barrage did diminish the number of death orbs by half, but they realised after the explosions had receded they had lost.
In a desperate, last second effort, hoping to punish those who were responsible for the probable death of their race, they fired all remaining missiles at the Musashi.

The hub exploded in millions of pieces, torpedo after torpedo impacting it, destroying the life giving ability of the Cylons.

Captain Kirkinger smiled, his mission successful, just as the missiles struck home.
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

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Chapter 21


The Cylon ships, having nothing else left to lose, closed in on the Federation vessel, intent on destroying it in vengeful wrath.
Their last volley had crippled the Musashi, tearing many gashes in its hull, oxygen escaping from it, the force fields that would normally have closed these breaches no longer operable.
They aimed all their missiles at the most powerful source of energy, not wanting to give the ship a chance to survive any longer and escape.
As the missiles left their launchers, one of the remaining Basestars died in a fiery explosion, ripped apart by the powerful forwards cannons of the suddenly appeared Pegasus.
Its flack barrage went at work destroying the missiles streaking towards the Musashi, destroying many, but at least half were still making their way to the Federation vessel, more than enough to destroy it.
And then those missiles started blowing up, shredded to pieces by the flak barrage emanating from the Galactica, the big old vessel making a run for it, placing itself between the remaining missiles and the Musashi.
It made it on time, barely, with at least a dozen missiles hitting it, most impacting on the reinforced upper decks.
The Cylons quickly understood how outgunned they were, and the two remaining Basestars jumped away.
After a quick seek and destroy mission performed by Colonial Vipers from the two Battlestars, destroying any remaining Raiders, the Pegasus jumped away again, back to the rest of the Colonial fleet.

*******

The bridge on the Musashi was in shambles, over half the consoles having exploded, bulkheads fallen to the floor, with only the emergency lights working, barely, tinting the bridge in a reddish, hellish light.
Crewman were slowly getting back up to their feet, those who were least injured helping their comrades, while others were fighting off fires.

“Report!” Ordered Captain Kirkinger, extricating himself from his automated security harness, glad for it presence.

“Impossible, Sir,” Replied Teramak, “That last volley took out main power and the computer cores. We have no communications with the rest of the ship and, I suspect, no easy way to access Engineering.”

“Damn!” Kirkinger said.
“Natalie, I want you to try and find some way of communicating with Engineering.
Rig some sort of cheap transmitter if you can.”

There was no response.
Kirkinger called her out again, and once more silence was his only answer.
He peered into the gloomy bridge, trying to find his XO, but Teramak found her first.

“Here, Captain!” He yelled, jumping down next to the Ops console.

There was a large piece of bulkhead there, but then Kirkinger thought he could see an arm under it.
Teramak was already struggling to lift the wreckage, Kirkinger and an Ensign coming to his aid.

“She saw it coming down,” The rattled Ensign said, pointing at the fallen bulkhead, “And she pushed me out of the way.”

When the piece of wreckage had been cleared, Krikinger kneeled next to his XO, checking her pulse.
It was very weak, but stable.
Teramak gave her a once over, his Field Medic training kicking in.
Using his Tricorder to scan her, even though though the information he gathered was limited compared to a Medical Tricorder, he was able to see that she was heavily injured, with multiple broken ribs, a broken femur, and possibly internal bleeding.
She also exhibited signs of a concussion.
Teramak and the Captain knew she could die if she didn’t receive full medical help very soon.
But they also knew that without main power, they could not get her that help.
And more importantly, although surprised that another attack had not come, they knew the Cylons could finish them with one more volley.


*****************************


James slowly regained consciousness, his body a receptacle of pain, every laboured breath coming in through immense effort.
His head was filled with a loud thumping sound, and some loud buzzing, but James realized quickly the thumping he was hearing was actually his heartbeats.
It took him some time to recover his bearings, and when he did, he realized that the other noise, the loud buzzing, had been his team calling out to him, trying to get his attention.
Doc, Lt. Ron Epstein his real name, was working fast on his wounds using a Med-kit, and had applied Starfleet’s bio-foam to them, and then had used the kit’s instruments to quickly suture his wounds.
His under garments were torn all over, where his field medic had to operate and remove the slugs that had penetrated his armor.
“What’s the situation?” He asked Doc.

Doc jumped back, unaware James had come to.

“What the hell?” Doc yelped.
“You scared the shit out of me.
You should be unconscious due to the medication I gave you.”

“Yeah well, let’s just say my body has great resistance to blood toxins, including meds.” James replied with a small smile.
“But don’t worry, you can continue to work on me, I hurt so much all over I won’t notice anything you do.”
He added weakly.

Boomer looked down at him and smiled warmly.

“Thanks for getting me out of there.” She said.

“Piece of cake!” James said, weakly making a “thumbs up” gesture with his right hand.
“But no one answered my question: what’s the situation?”

It was Boomer who answered him:
“Well, the Resurrection Hub is gone, blow up to pieces, and the Musashi took out six of the eight Cylon Basestars protecting it, but this came at a great cost.
The Galactica and Pegasus came in just in time to save it, but she was heavily damaged still.
She is now listing in space, apparently without power.
We are heading over there right now to see if we can do anything.
The Galactica is still here as well, protecting it.
They contacted us and we told them of the successful mission.
Admiral Adama sends his congratulations.”

She looked at him, and with a sheepish smile added:
“I believe his exact words were: Tell him he did great, if he makes it.”

James smiled, still too weak to laugh even though it was what he wanted to do.
His team laughed then, knowing their leader was out of danger, happy their mission had been a success.

It was a few minutes before they arrived at the Musashi.
The Raptor had been communicating with the Galactica, and so James knew the Musashi still had no power, and that the Galactica had been unable to contact Captain Kirkinger.
The Raptor flew under the Akira-class vessel, and from his position on the floor of the Raptor, James saw the extent of the damage.
The Musashi was even more banged up than the Galactica had been when they had first encountered it, with huge gaping holes torn in its hull, the support struts broken and twisted.
It was bleeding oxygen where force fields had failed and the emergency bulkheads had yet to be closed.
James thought the Musashi looked as he felt, banged up and full of holes.

“Fly us over the top,” He said to the Raptor pilot, “I want to see if the Bridge is still intact.”

The pilot nodded, and then expertly guided the Raptor around the nose of the Musashi, passing in front of the Star Lounge, once so beautiful, now completely destroyed, the windows blown out, the plants dead, the interior walls blackened and burnt, the once vibrant lounge now a lifeless wound in the Musashi.

As the Raptor completed its circuit, it flew upside down over the dorsal part of the Starfleet vessel’s saucer.
The damage there was as extensive as on its ventral side, but, the James’s and everyone else’s relief, the Bridge hadn’t been breached.
Blackened marks near it indicated it may have been damaged, but at least it had not been penetrated.
The Raptor’s pilot brought it close to the Bridge, flipped the Raptor downside up, brought out the landing gear and activated the magnetic clamps.
The small vessel landed on the bigger ship’s hull with a loud “thunk”, its magnetic gear fastening it securely in place.

“We need to find a way to communicate with the ship.” James said.


**********************

As she stood up, Cmdr T’Len wiped some blood from her brow, the gash she had suffered on the top of her head bleeding profusely.
She tore off a part of her lower shirt, and applied some pressure to the wound.
As she did that, she surveyed the damage to Engineering.
Had she been human, or a hybrid like the illustrious Spock, she might have looked at what was left of her precious engineering with dismay, but being a fully logical Vulcan, while her eyes took in all the damage, her brain was already hard at work, prioritizing repairs and man-hours, calculating precisely how much time she had before things were critical, and how much time would be needed to effect critical repairs.
She was done in less than a minute, her brain –highly intelligent even from a Vulcan perspective- having determined that the flux capacitor, such a small and easily overlooked piece of equipment, yet so essential for Time-Warp engines, needed to be replaced before main power could be restored.
She had also taken note of her injured comrades, pleased –if such a state of mind could be said of Vulcans- that there were few injured crewmen, since Engineering’s location, deep into the bowels of the ship, had protected against the onslaught that had hit the ship’s outer layers.

She issued orders to the crew, one Ensign being assigned to restoring communications throughout the ship, and then went to work on the flux Capacitor replacement.
It was a delicate piece of machinery, one that had been created by human, of all beings, and even more surprising, it had been invented and created more than four hundred years in the past.
Its inventor, one Doctor Emmett Brown, had apparently disappeared from history after its invention, as if he had no longer existed after 1985.
After it had been replaced, Cmdr T’Len moved on to the Warp Core to help the teams already working on it.
If her calculations were correct –and they always were- they’d have main power back on line in less than thirty minutes, with back-up power in five.
Which she decided was a good thing, considering she had calculated loss of life-support in six minutes.


*********************

Teramak was working feverishly with Ensign Romo to get some kind of communications established with the rest of the ship.
They had connected seven communicators together and had jury-rigged some sort of emitter, but without the full communication suite of the ship, the range was very limited.
While they were working on the communicators, the Captain was keeping a close eye on his XO, ensuring her condition wasn’t worsening.
When he was satisfied they had done what they could with the communicators, Teramak activated them.

“This is Lt. Cmdr Teramak, of the starship Mushashi.
Is anyone receiving this?” Teramak asked, transmitting over all available frequencies.
“We are heavily damaged, with only minutes of life support left.
We have many injured crewmembers.
We need help.”

After a few seconds of tense silence, Teramak heard his communicators chirp, and a voice, weak, distant, was heard.

“Cmdr Teramak, this is James Reynolds of the Raptor Prometheus, and it seems I will once again have to save your ass.”

The crewmembers on the Bridge smiled when they heard the voice, for it was not a secret for anyone that when James Reynolds was there, things had a tendency to end well.

“James,” Teramak replied, “It is good to hear your voice.
Cmdr Tremblay is hurt really bad, and we lost internal communications, and have no way to reach Sickbay.
We need your help.”

“Ok, we’ve located the nearest airlock, we’ll be there in a couple of minutes.
Doc and I are on our way.” James said.

“We’ll be waiting,” Teramak replied, “Don’t take too long.”


***********************



“Are you out of your frakking mind?” Boomer said to James.
“You’re in no condition to move, let alone perform zero-g moves or mount rescue missions.”

“Sometimes, you can’t let your condition stop you, Boomer.” James said with a smile as he started to get up.
Boomer saddled him, and pushed on his shoulders to bring them back down to the floor.
James was hurting, Boomer knew, but his strength still exceeded hers, and so she was fighting a losing battle.
She let go, since she did not want James to reopen his wounds, but she stared at him hard, disapproval clear in her face.
Doc didn’t look too thrilled either, but didn’t say a word.
He looked at James, nodded, and put his pressurized helmet on.
James had to change his suit with a spare one on the ship, which fit quite tightly, and then, when everyone was ready, he opened the hatch of the Raptor.
He was trying to look confident even though it was the first time in his life that he would actually be out in space, vulnerable, with little control over what could happen.
He activated his magnetic boots and led the duo over the Musashi’s hull, heading for the airlock.
He walked fast, even with the boots slowing him down.
When they arrived at the airlock, James let Doc take care of opening it, and took a few seconds to marvel at the sights he was seeing, all his pain forgotten.
To his right, a nebula, to his left, a starry field, and all around, the vastness of space.
The spectacle humbled him, making him realize how insignificant he was next to the universe.
He felt something tugging at his pant leg, and looked down.
Doc had opened the airlock, and was climbing inside the Musashi.
Snapping out of his reverie, James followed.


*******************


Teramak and the Bridge crew were working feverishly to try and repair as much of the consoles they could, with the priority put on the tactical console.
While they didn’t have any power to check if the repairs were working, they had to trust their knowledge of the systems, and so once system was “repaired”, they moved onto another.
They had tried to force open the doors to the Turbolifts to access equipment, and hopefully some oxygen masks, but the doors had proven too tough for them, and with nothing to pry them open, their efforts had been vain.

Breathing was becoming labored, and so after a few minutes they had to stop and rest.
Then they heard a hissing sound, and the doors to Turbolift two started to open, forced apart by two glove-clad hands.
The opened doors brought with them fresh, oxygenated air, replenishing the dwindling supplies available for the Bridge crew.
The opening doors revealed James Reynolds, space suit bulging under the strain of his muscles, at some places shredding open, blood being released from the tears, while he pushed the Turbolift doors completely opened.
As if on cue, at the same time, Teramak’s jaw hit the floor, all the lights came on, the life support system started up again, and the repaired consoles lit up.
As relief washed over the Bridge crew, James collapsed on the Bridge, passing out due to his reopened wounds.
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

Post by Praeothmin »

You'll notice some musical cues here, as this was an idea that came to me in an attempt to enhance the reading experience...
Also, I've combined a very (very) short chapter with a longer one...
At the time of the writing of these chapters, I didn't have much time to write Chapter 22, so this is what it yielded... :P

Chapter 22

He opened, regaining consciousness, somehow not feeling much pain, his eyes and was blinded –only for a millisecond, the time for his Flare Compensators to react- , but then his vision adjusted, and he saw that he was in a brightly lit room, full of different noises and smells.
The room smelled of disinfectant, sweat, blood, and even cigarette smoke.
James knew he wasn’t in the aseptic environment of the Sickbay aboard the Musashi, and after a second or two, he smiled, understanding dawning on him: he was in a Shadow clinic in Seattle.
He wasn't feeling too much pain most likely because he had been pumped with enough pain killers to knock out a rhino.
He had been badly hurt by his confrontation with what he know understood had been an Earth Elemental, and his team-mates had succeeded in getting him out, and to a Shadow Clinic.
He had imagined, or dreamt, the entire time travel adventure in a drug-induced stupor.
He was going to miss Valis, Boomer and Teramak, though, even if they had only been figments of his imagination.




Chapter 23

“Doc, he’s awake!” He heard a voice call out in surprise.

“They told me he was a tough sun of a bitch.” A voice replied.

James knew that voice, he had heard it before.
He concluded he had been in the Clinic before, yet he couldn’t remember where he’d seen such a ceiling in a Shadow Clinic, full of criss-crossing metal struts, and armored bulkheads.

He turned his head to the right, towards the Doctor’s voice, just as the Doctor came up to the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Asked Doc Cotter, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.
“I’m surprised you’re already awake, though I guess I shouldn’t be, considering you’re still alive when you should have been dead twice over.” He finished with a smile.

“I’m feeling good, Doc.” James answered.
“How long have I been out?”

“A little more than a day.” Cotter said.
“Although with the wounds you had, anyone else would have woken up in the morgue.”
He smiled.
“You’ve been transferred here, with all the stable wounded patients, because your ship is still pretty banged up, and your Sickbay isn’t operating at full capacity.
We, on the other hand, having been fully restocked by your Captain a few weeks ago, are fully operational.
Your Doc Epstein has even been lent to us to help take care of the wounded.”

James was suddenly very alert, remembering what he’d been doing before he had collapsed on the Musashi’s bridge.

“How is Cmdr Trembley?” He asked with some apprehension.

“She’s fine!” Doc said.
“She’s in a stable condition, and under the expert care of your Doctor Numorr.
She’s make it.
It’s a good thing Doc Epstein was able to get to her when he did, or she would have died.
He was able to keep her stable enough until she could be transferred to Sickbay.”
He smiled as he said:
“Apparently, someone strong-armed the elevator doors open, after the Bridge crew had been unable to.
Someone with no regards for his own safety.
Ring a bell?”

“Nope!” James replied.
“Never met such an idiot.” He finished, grinning.

“I have!” A voice from the other side of the medical bay said.
“And it’s a good thing his body’s as hard as his head.”

James lifted his head a bit, and saw a smiling Doc coming towards him.

“There was a young lady who wanted to be here when you woke up, but the Captain and Admiral Adama felt that it may have been dangerous for her, so she’s awaiting news of your health aboard the Musashi, helping with the repairs.” Doc Epstein said.

“Yeah, well, I should be there too.” James replied.

He got up from his bed, and only realized he was naked when a nurse, who was attending a patient close by, looked at him, her eyes widening, and offered him a sheepish smile, blushing slightly and turning her head around back to her patient.

“She’s not used to seeing such a big man.” Cotter remarked, deadpan, the nurse blushing even more at his words.

“Well,” Epstein said with a grin, “Doctor Numorr did say he was fully augmented.”

“Hey!” James cried indignantly.
“Some parts of me are still natural, ok.
And I’m not big, I’m just well proportioned.”

“Very!” The nurse said in a hushed tone, so low that James knew the remark had slipped out inadvertently.
He looked straight at her, and by the quizzical look he gave her, she knew he had heard.
She became beet red, and left to attend to other patients on the far side of the medical bay.

“It seems I may have misplaced my clothing.” He said, using the bed’s sheet to cover himself.

“You won’t need it, as you’re not supposed to get out of bed after what you’ve been through.” Cotter said.
“You still need to rest and recuperate.”

“I’ll recuperate when I’m dead, Doc.” James quipped.
“Look, I feel fine, fine enough to help, and if I need anything, Valis… I mean, Doctor Numorr is more than able to take care of me.”

“I’m sure she is.” Doc Epstein said, returning to his work.

After giving Epstein a dose of stink-eye, under the amused gaze of Cotter, James requested his clothing again.

“Your clothing had more holes than actual cloth in them, so we got rid of them.
I’ll find you something to wear.” Cotter said.
“It may take a while, we don’t breed them so big here.” He finished as an afterthought.

He returned a while later with what looked like some combat fatigues and boots, which James put on quickly.

He made his way to the starboard flight deck, where he had been told a Starfleet shuttle was available for Starfleet personnel who needed to transit back to the Musashi.

As he was flying to the Musashi, he inspected the ship’s exterior.

*Cue the TPM music when Kirk flies to the Enterprise*

It was extremely damaged, but now, at least, he could see main power was on, as one of the Warp Nacelles was lighted.
He saw many, many drones and crewmen at work repairing hull breaches, replacing damaged circuits, trying their best to erase the battle scars the Musashi displayed.
In contrast, the Galactica, who had weathered only one small missile volley, had fared very well, with her Tritanium armor very much intact.
The only indications it had indeed been in a –short- battle were the burn marks on its armor, where the missiles had impacted with little effect.

He arrived in Shuttle Bay 2, now apparently transformed in an industrial repair shop.
There were people everywhere, hard at work replicating parts, assembling and dispatching replacement modules.

*Cue Flight of the Bumblebees*

As he exited the shuttle, a few people he recognized nodded to him or waved at him.
He returned their signs, and then made his way to Sickbay.
He wanted to check on Cmdr Tremblay before he offered his help with the repairs.
And more importantly, he wanted to see Valis.
He hadn’t talked to her much since Lt. Harriman’s death.
The death of someone he considered his first true friend in this reality had hit him hard, and he had done his best to ensure this would not happen again.
He had immersed himself in his training and the training of others, the results of which was the successful mission on the Resurrection Hub.
The men on his team for that mission were those who had been the best at his training, Teramak not included.
Indeed, Teramak had been the best of the group, unable to participate only because of his importance on the ship.

But now, after almost dying, he realized he didn’t want to pass up an opportunity for something great to develop between him and Valis.
He also realized he would probably alienate Teramak because of this –again- , but it was something he decided he could live with.

Walking around the ship on his way to Sickbay, he noticed all the corridors were filled with repair teams.
Adding the number of people he saw there to those seen in the Shuttle Bay and those outside the Musashi, he understood that most likely all of the available crewmembers on the ship were affecting repairs.
As he made his way to his destination, he slowly felt his pain returning, understanding that his painkillers were wearing off, and that his wounds were too serious for his Pain Compensators to suppress.
He was limping slightly when he arrived at Sickbay, but when the doors hissed open, and he caught a glimpse of Valis, he straightened himself, and strode in.
That was when he noticed all the injured people lying on the biobeds, each more wounded than the other.
Valis and her staff were running around every patient, administering painkillers, antisceptics and general meds, every staff member clearly exhausted, but each and every one working feverishly to ensure their comrades’ survival.
She saw him, then and there, and stopped dead in her tracks.
She flashed him a smile, so full of warmth and relief at seeing him there, he knew then and there he would have endured a thousand times more pain that what he was feeling at the moment to see that smile again, and then she returned to work.

He went to Cmdr Tremblay’s bed, and looking at her readouts, saw she was very stable.
In fact, her chart indicated she would be ready for duty in less than three days.

Satisifed, wondering where he would be most useful, he decided his medical knowledge and lack of familiarity with Starfleet technology meant he would be most helpful in Sickbay.
He picked up a hypospray, having learned how to perfectly use basic Starfleet medical equipment during his two weeks of training, and went to work helping the medical team, much to their gratitude.
The first person he administered painkillers to was himself, so he could then work without being bothered by his wounds.
He worked for countless hours, until he could no longer ignore his pain, until even his mind could not will his body to continue.
By then, he realized that the original medical team had gone to bed, replaced by fresh crewmembers, and by fresh, James realized it meant they had probably had all of a couple of hours of sleep since their last shift.

Valis wasn’t there anymore, but she had left him a note.
Glad to see you’re back on your feet, Mr. Reynolds.
I look forward to having the “conversation” we never had at our first meeting.
I will meet you at your quarters for breakfast in a few hours.
Sleep well.
Valis.

With a smile, and a nod to the medical team now at work, James went to his quarters to sleep, after receiving some treatment for his wounds using Starfleet medical equipment.

He slept well, his mind filled with dreams of Valis, and the medical procedures he wished she would try on him.
At one point, Boomer and Cmdr Tremblay came to help Valis, and James had never felt better in his life.
He woke up then, feeling refreshed, aroused and somewhat disappointed he would not see which of the three was better at using a “hypospray”.

His door chimed, indicating someone was waiting outside.
Remembering Valis’s note, he decided to surprise her.
He went to the door nude, wearing a large grin, and hit the “open” button, expectantly looking for the surprised expression on Valis’s face.

Except it was Boomer who was standing there.

*Cue Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony*
The truth always depends on which side of the fence you're standing... ;)
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Praeothmin
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

Post by Praeothmin »

Yeah, I know, the preceding chapter and this one are a bit corny, but I felt corny at the time I wrote them...
I say wrote, because I'm currently writing chapter 73 of this little adventure... :lol:

Chapter 24

Boomer’s eyes widened in surprise, her gaze quickly scanning James’s entire body before settling back on his face, her cheeks taking on a red tint.

*Cue LMFAO’s “Sexy and I Know It” *

James had been so surprised at seeing here there that he reacted only after her gaze had come back to his face, his hands covering his groin area, trying to regain some modesty.

“Do you always offer such a big welcome to people? I mean, er…” She said, forcing her gaze to remain on his face.

“No, yes… I mean... Of course not… I’m still a bit dazed from the drugs and my wounds, that’s all.” He said, trying to hide his embarrassment.
Boomer wasn’t buying it, he could see, and after a few seconds where she looked intently at his face, he saw understanding dawn in hers.

“Were you waiting for someone in particular, then?” She asked coyly, his discomfort taking hers away.

“No, not really…” Was James’s answer.

Boomer smiled and said:
“Anyways, I just wanted to see how you were doing, but it seems everything is fine, so I’ll just let you get out of bed properly.”

As she turned around and was about to leave, she stopped and added over her shoulder:
“By the way, you should put some pants on, your hands aren’t that big.”

*Cue Queen’s “Another one Bites the Dust”*

She left an uncomfortable James to close his door behind her.
Vowing never again to do that, James got dressed, drank a protein drink from the Replicator and waited for Valis while cleaning and tweaking his gun and armor.
Looking at the time, he realized he had slept for over ten hours uninterrupted.
He figured he was still pretty banged up, because since the grafting of his Sleep Regulator gland he had never slept over five hours in a row, and then only after extremely tough missions where he’d spent days awake and active.
Valis called him half an hour later to let him know she’d have to postpone their “conversation” because she was needed in Sickbay for a crewman who’s condition had gotten worse.
She had paid him a visit earlier, she said, but after ringing for over five minutes with no answer, she concluded he was too tired to answer the door.
Swearing inwards at the missed opportunity, he wished her luck, and told her he could wait.
He decided to talk to Boomer when he thought about the earlier incident, deciding instead to go see Teramak to offer some help.

As he left his quarters, he heard a call for him over the intercom.

“Bridge to James Reynolds, please come to the ready room immediately.”

“James to Bridge, I’m on my way.” Was his simple reply.

He made his way to the Bridge, and noticed how different the corridors looked from when he had arrived from the Galactica, nearly a day ago.
Battle scars were becoming rare, and there were less repair crews deep in the Akira-class ship.
Now, most efforts seemed concentrated on the decks closer to the outer layers of the ship, the ones that had been hit the hardest in the battle.
As he neared the Turbolift that would get him to the Bridge, he came upon a repair group trying to install a new strut in a corridor archway.
There were only three crewmembers, which showed how stretched thin the repairs crews were.
This job should have required at least one more man, or at least an anti-gravity sled to lift the strut and keep it in place while the welders did their work.
As it was now, two of them struggled to lift the strut, while the third used one hand to hold it in place and the other to weld it there using an instrument that required two hands to use.
The inevitable happened, and the welder dropped his welding instrument.
Trying to catch it, his other hand slipped off the strut, unbalancing it, and making one of the other crewmen to let go with a yelp.
The welder lifted his gaze upwards in time to see the strut stop an inch above his head, held there by James powerful hands.
The welder let out a sigh of relief, and thanked James profusely for his intervention.
After holding the strut in place long enough for the welder to fix it in place, he left the men to continue their work, and resumed his way to the ready room.

The Turbolift stopped at the Bridge, and the doors hissed open, exposing James to a sad spectacle: the Bridge was like a battle field, half the consoles still damaged and inoperative, burn marks all over the walls and the ceiling; some bulkheads even had burned holes in them, where circuits had exploded.
Still, repairs had been made and all the main consoles seemed up and running, some being manned already.
James figured these were the consoles dealing with ship system regulations and control, where the crewmembers manning them could keep an eye out for some issues after repairs, and could monitor the power allocation for the ship, being in the damaged state it was.
He saw on one console that the ship’s power core was running at 56% efficiency, a far cry from the regular 94.7% he remembered to be the norm.
Still, it was much better than it was two days ago, when the ship was nothing but a lifeless hunk of metal alloys floating in space.
He nodded to the crew in place, and entered the ready room.

Boomer turned her head towards him, and smiled warmly at him.
James froze for a nanosecond, then continued on to the table, returning the smile in a slightly embarrassed way.
Teramak saw this, as he shot a questioning look at James which he ignored.
He saluted the Captain and Cmdr Teramak, then Boomer, and took a seat opposite her, so that he would not always see her face when talking to the Captain, who, as usual, was sitting at the head of the table.

“James,” Captain Krikinger said, with a big smile on his face “Glad to see you on your feet and feeling well.”

“Glad to be better as well, Captain.” James replied.

“Last time I saw you,” The Captain continued, “You collapsed after forcing open a door that wouldn’t budge.
I must say, that was impressive, although seeing you collapse after was a bit scary, considering I was already fearing losing my First Officer.”

“That’s James all right, always making great big impressions on people.” Quipped Boomer.

James smiled at her, but his eyes sent daggers her way.
She ignored them, and added:
“He definitely made a lasting impression on me the last time I saw him in action.
It’s not something one forgets so easily.” She finished.

“I’ll say,” Teramak said, “Seeing you appear as those doors opened was a sight for sore eyes.”

“Wasn’t it?” Teased Boomer.

James decided he should take control of the conversation, or else he would never hear the end of Boomer’s quips.

“So, Captain, Cmdr Tremblay is doing well it seems, as is the ship.” He said quickly.
“Was there something you needed from me?” He tried to ask innocently.

He noticed Boomer’s smile widen while she looked at him.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, there was.” The Captain answered.
“Cmdr Teramak and I feel that as long as you were going to be on this ship, and participate in missions, well, you should have a rank.
Since we intend to use you only for special missions, we figured you should be our very first MACO member.”

“MACO, Sir?” James asked, curious.

“Yes, Military Assault Command Operations. Think of it as our own version of your SWAT teams.” Captain Kirkinger explained.
“You would not be part of the regular branch of Starfleet Command, but you would constitute a separate entity, although you would be under orders from me, Cmdr Tremblay, and Cmdr Teramak, from whom you would accept missions.
This would be a temporary posting, only as long as you remain onboard.
What do you think?”

Captain Kirkinger was eagerly awaiting James answer, it was easy for James to see.
The answer wasn’t a difficult one to make either, for James felt he owed much to the Starfleet crew, their present problems being his fault entirely, since had they not tried to recreate the event that had brought him on their ship using the Orb of the Prophets he had found, they would still be back home, patrolling Cardassian space, and participating in battles of their choosing, with full Starfleet support for repairs afterwards.

“Do you really have to ask?” James said.
“Of course I’m in.”

“Great, I’m very happy you accepted.” Kirkinger happily responded.
Of course, you will thus have the rank of Major.
You’ll also need a team to command.
Cmdr Teramak suggested we assign the team you used to infiltrate the Cylon’s Resurrection Hub to you, since they were trained by you, know your methods and you had handpicked them for it.
They were offered this position, and they all said yes.
I’ll leave the ranking within your group up to you.”

“That will be perfect, Sir.” James said.
“I know these men, and know they will do their jobs efficiently.
Had I the possibility of getting Cmdr Teramak on the team, we would have the perfect Tactical group.” James added playfully.

“Well, you can’t have him,” The Captain said with a smile, “He’s mine, Captain’s prerogative.
We do, however, have the perfect replacement for him.” He added, a glint in his eyes.

James knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“Boomer… I mean, Sharon, has accepted to be part of the team, conditional on your acceptance.” He explained.

James looked at Boomer, who was grinning, and could only grin in return.
He knew the Captain was right, of course, for while in pure skills she was not Teramak’s equal, she was the only one onboard the Musashi who could even remotely hope to match him in strength and durability.
She had also demonstrated her ability and resolve on the Resurrection Hub, and he knew that with his training, the already formidable Boomer would indeed become quite fearsome, and a welcome addition to the MACOs.

James quickly reviewed his team in his mind, and was happy.
He would have a good team, and with it, he would repay Captain Kirkinger for all the kindness he had shown him.

“If there’s nothing else, Captain, with your permission I’d like to hold a meeting with my team in order to work out the details of our operations.” James told Captain Kirkinger.

“Go right ahead… Major Reynolds.” Captain Kirkinger said, rising up and saluting James.

James saluted in return, smiled and nodded at Teramak, and left with Boomer on his heels.
They entered the Turbolift, and as soon as the doors closed, James pressed the “pause” button.

He looked at Boomer, who knew what was coming.

“I would be very grateful,” He said, “If you could stop the size jokes for a while.”

“How grateful?” She asked playfully.

“Enough not to kick your ass.” He said, then pressed the “resume” button, Boomer grinning like the Chershire Cat.

He told Boomer to contact the rest of the team and have them meet at his quarters in half an hour, explaining that he still needed some treatment for his wounds.
He headed to Sickbay, where he found Valis still at work on her patients.
Cmdr Tremblay was conscious, he saw, and seemed to be doing very well.
They exchanged small talk while he waited to speak to Valis.
She invited him to dinner at nineteen hundred hours, at her quarters.
After accepting, he went to see a nurse to receive his treatments.

Feeling much better, he headed for his quarters for his team meeting.
They were waiting for him at the door, and he invited them in.
Boomer smiled as she entered, and then turned around without a word.

“Well guys, it seems we’re stuck together now.” He started.
“We’re all part of a team, and I’m your leader.” He said, smiling.

His team members were all smiling.
They knew him, knew his disposition and character, and knew that, while the missions would no doubt be tough, their leader would never give them hell unless forced to.

“In order for us to work well together, we’ll need a clear chain of command.
I’m the Major, but I want a second in command who knows how to react well, and follow orders well.
Doc, that would be you.
Congratulations, Sergeant Epstein.” He said, shaking Doc’s hand.
The others clapped Doc in the back, all happy for him.

“I’ll need a third in command, in case Doc and I are gone on the same mission.
Lt. Banner, you are now Corporal David Banner.
Congratulations!”
Again, all the others congratulated the man, no one showing any sign of jealousy.

They spent the rest of the afternoon defining how things would work in the unit, James using his background in the military as a basis for his team.
Each member had a special role assigned to them, Doc of course being the Field Medic, Boomer the Pilot, Corporal Banner the electronic specialist, Private Jack Heyes the explosive specialist, and Private Mike Wilson would be the team’s Sniper, since James would need to be on the front lines more often then not.

They were planning their team training when the Red Alert klaxon blared to life.
The truth always depends on which side of the fence you're standing... ;)
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Re: Shadowrun crossover with many realities...

Post by Praeothmin »

Chapter 25

James hit his communicator with a lighting fast move:
“Bridge, this is Major Raynolds of the MACOs, what is happening?”

“This is the Bridg…” Was the Bridge’s response, which was interrupted by a flash of light.

Then all the lights went out and the ship bucked as a stallion trying to dislodge an unwanted rider, followed by some creaking noises, a few of which became cracking noises, and then nothing.

“Oh frag! Not again…” James groaned.

*******************************

T’Len was looking at the Orb, once more inert, thinking it had chosen a very bad time to manifest again, wondering what had prompted its activation.

As the systems came back online, with panels which had been functioning a few minutes ago now dark, the engineering crew, looking tired, all sighed in unison and went right back at work, trying once more to restore full power to the ship despite the setback they had obviously just suffered, all the while hoping that this time they had not appeared in the middle of a battle.

******************************

“God damn it!” Said Captain Kirkinger.
“Not this again. Damage report!
Cmdr Teramak, I want sensors, and I want them yesterday.” He barked.

“Yes Sir!” Teramak answered, just as eager as his Captain to know where they were, and if any enemies might be there, ready to fire at the suddenly appearing ship.

Slowly, as it had the previous time, power returned to the ship.
Consoles throughout the bridge came back online, most with alarm messages flashing across them, as the ship’s weakened state had not allowed it to fare this trip unscathed as it had the last.
When power was fully returned, the displays read only 47% available power on the Tactical readout.
Teramak scanned the area quickly, but noted no other ships, no possible enemy.

“We’re clear, Captain.” He said.
“We are alone this time, no one is here to welcome us.” He finished.

The officer at the Conn console called the Captain over.

“Sir,” He began, “I am reading a planet, two million kilometres off the starboard bow.
Sensors scans reveal it’s a class L planet, roughly Earth sized, no lifeforms, though there are highly localized radiation emanations from the Northern Hemisphere.
Current sensor damage and those radiations prevent us from obtaining more precise information, Sir.”

“Do we have Impulse?” Asked Kirkinger.

“Yes Sir, we do” Replied the Conn officer.

“Great, then takes us in, set us in orbit, and let’s see what this planet has to offer.”

After a few minutes, the Conn officer said:
“Standard orbit, Sir!”

“How about another sensor sweep?” Asked the Captain.

The Conn officer’s fingers flew over his console, acquiring data, the software inside correlating and analyzing it before presenting its findings.

“Sir, closer sweeps show us the radiation is coming from an active Nuclear Reactor.
It is online, and the levels are not dangerous to living organisms at the moment.
I also read an immense structure close by, four kilometres square in size, six meters tall.
I detect many energy sources, and a power regulation station connected between the Nuclear Reactor and the structure.”

“Any life signs?” Kirkinger asked.

“No idea at this range and in the state of our sensors, sir.” The Conn officer stated.

The communication suite in his chair arm beeped, and so he answered.

“Captain Kirkinger here!” He said.

“Captain, Cmdr. T’Len here.
We have restored main power, but at a very low level.
I trust we won’t be fighting soon?” She asked.

“No, doesn’t look like it.” Replied Kirkinger, smiling slightly.

“Good! In that case, may we take main power offline for 4.2 hours and run on emergency battery power?
This would allow us to complete most of the necessary repairs in Engineering, bringing the available ship power to 83%.”

“Make it so.” Was Kirkinger’s reply.

James arrived on the Bridge at that moment.
Kirkinger saw him and smiled.

“Great timing, Major.” He said.
“It seems our friendly Orb has done it again.
We’re now orbiting a class L planet, and have detected some buildings.
Our sensors cannot penetrate the low-level radiations at this time, so your team will make first contact.”

“Any idea where or when the orb sent us this time?” James asked dejectedly.

“Unfortunately, in our current state, sensors aren’t much help.
So, Major, your mission is the following: find out if this installation is inhabited, by whom, and see if there’s any help they can give us.
Oh, and, since we aren’t exactly in any fighting shape, try not to provoke anyone you meet.” Kirkinger finished with a grin.

“I’ll do my best, Sir!” James said as he saluted.

He spun around and headed for the Turbolift doors as the communicator on the Captain’s chair beeped again.

“Kirkinger here!” He said.

“Captain, this is Ensign Horton from Shuttle Deck 2.
We have a confused Raptor pilot here who was wondering what had happened, and if it was possible to contact Galactica?”

“Damn!” Was the Captain’s silent whisper.

******************************

Thomas Menk, the Raptor pilot who had brought Doc back to the Musashi, had been seeing to his ship when all lights went out.
Hearing the creaking and cracking noises, he had feared a Cylon attack which never came.
As he had looked around nervously, he’d heard someone say “Oh damn, not that again!”, which had done nothing to calm him.
That was when he had decided to talk to the Captain of the Musashi, as much as that had unnerved him.
The truth always depends on which side of the fence you're standing... ;)
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