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Big Bang Fic: Part Nine, BSG/Babylon Five, Wheel Turns
All disclaimers and other information can be found on the Prologue.
Part Eight
Aboard Colonial One, Lee Adama sat in a window seat, his expression intrigued as he watched the fleet, and the space station beyond.
It was intriguing, this Babylon Five. Lee had listened to some of the reports earlier, the communications chatter that ascribed everything from Godhood to the end of the universe to the auspicious occasion.
He'd also sat in with the quorum, trying to keep them calm until one of them had raised the idea that Roslin had planned everything.
Really, there were times when Lee remembered being a simple pilot, and how easy that was.
Lee had insisted on being allowed to board Colonial One, even with the hangar damaged. They'd managed to dump him a borrowed flight suit outside the airlock. He'd managed not to die or have suicidal thoughts.
As much as he'd wanted to be able to calm he quorum, Lee also wished he'd managed the same for his father. He'd tried talking to the Admiral, but between the shock of Saul Tigh's Cylonity and the loss of the battlestar, the man wasn't particularly forthcoming. Not that he ever had been, but Lee had thought they'd managed to forge some sort of relationship during the years they'd been surviving from Cylon attacks.
It was possible Adama simply hadn't forgiven him for betraying him during Baltar's trial. That was how he'd seen it, then, perhaps it was worse now.
Lee let the thought of his father go, for the moment. There were other considerations. His gaze focused on Babylon Five again and he wished Roslin had taken him as part of her ambassadorial delegation. But he understood why she hadn't: he was one of the few people she could trust not to send the fleet into chaos. Hopefully that was her reason.
If nothing else, he trusted her to always have the best interests of the human race at heart, even if that human race was suddenly only a drop in the universal bucket of life.
"Lee." Tom Zarek joined him, sliding into the seat across from Lee, his expression thoughtful. "You got out when the going was good."
It wasn't exactly a compliment. Lee pulled a face, then let his expression relax. He was never quite sure what Tom's goals were, but mostly he figured they were: a) keep Tom Zarek on top and b) profit from loss. Zarek had always been honest when it suited him. "I think we need to know more about this situation before making snap decisions," was all he said, though.
Zarek's eyes followed his, and he let the subject slide a little. "It's magnificent, isn't it? Hard to believe it houses millions, including aliens."
Aliens were hard to believe in, without proof. Lee could understand that. Then again, for large portions of the fleet cylons were hard to believe in without proof, especially if they were supposed to look human. There were still a few crackpots who believed the human-cylons had been actors hired to portray roles to make Roslin look better.
"I've always wanted to meet aliens," Lee tried for a joke, but knew it had fallen flat.
"Cylons weren't enough for you?" Zarek sounded reproving, as though his record weren't spotted with things like terrorist and malcontent.
Still, Lee continued on, his voice filling with enthusiasm. "Aliens change things, make it a whole big universe that we have yet to explore." He was almost wistful when he said, "I've always wanted to explore."
"I admire your idealism, Lee," his voice saying anything but, Zarek continued smoothly, "I'd encourage you to let the quorum see this side of you, but I think we both know they're not interested in exploring anything."
"And you are?" Lee let the irony lie between them for a moment before he shook his head, "You don't have to worry about me, Tom. I'm not about to go alien-crazy."
"See that you don't, Lee." With a wave of his hand, Zarek closed his eyes as though he were planning to take a nap.
Lee didn't believe him for an instant, but he let his worries about politics drift away and returned to watching the space station and the ships around her. She really was magnificent, and Lee wasn't sure how anyone could see her as a dark omen of doom.
-=-
Giving up on sleeping, Lyta got dressed and went in search of Zack Allen. It wasn't really his job to keep her informed, but Lyta didn't mind using him. Not that she thought of it as using him, it wasn't. They were friends. Sort of.
It was so complicated, with her position on the station being sort-of an adjunct to an Ambassador, and an unregistered telepath. It had made things difficult with Garibaldi, a time or two. He didn't trust her farther than he could throw her. But then, he wasn't around to trust her at the moment. Lyta frowned a little as she took a meandering route towards the security office.
Meandering enough that she was close to Sheridan's office when the laughter sounded in her mind again.
Stop that, she thrust at the sound, freezing in place as she started reaching out, trying to find where it was coming from.
The laughter tugged at her, then suddenly stopped.
"It's not funny," Lyta muttered, turning the next corner and coming to a halt again to watch the family approaching her.
Non-regulation uniforms, and the father was a giant. Lyta stared at them for a moment, before her eyes found the little girl, regarding her from where she leaned her head sleepily on her mother's shoulder.
"Can we help you?" Karl Agathon asked, his voice careful. He didn't want to offend the woman staring at his daughter, but he'd had more than enough of people treating her differently.
Lyta shook her head and blinked at him, her eyes focusing on Athena. "I'm sorry, it's just... I'm Lyta Alexander." She bit her lip and moved closer, her hand out, pushing at the little girl. There was nothing, this time. No laughter, no hint that she was the source.
And yet Lyta knew her instincts were right.
"Just what?" Athena demanded, still annoyed with their recent confrontation.
"You're new here, aren't you." Lyta groaned and shook her head, "I'm sorry, where are my manners. I'm Lyta Alexander."
"I'm Helo, and this is Athena and Hera."
The ancient Earth names weren't lost on Lyta, but she thought it best not to pursue for the moment. She smiled a little, "I'm not trying to be rude, but have you ever considered that your daughter might be a telepath?"
Athena's face closed down, and she tightened her hold on Hera. "I don't know what you're trying, but you can stop. Now."
Holding her hands out, showing her empty palms, Lyta shrugged, "I'm not trying anything. But... I could hear her, earlier. And it would be best to know, to keep the Psi Corps from knowing about her. Now, I can teach her some blocking tricks--"
"No." Firmly, Athena moved past her, "We're not interested."
"I'm sorry," said Helo, his expression obviously torn, he followed his wife, calling back, "Maybe another time."
"Yeah." Looking after them, Lyta wondered if there would be. Then she pushed the idea away, and resolutely ignored the laughter brushing past her mind again. It was no skin off her nose if those two didn't want to be careful with an undeveloped telepath.
Not remembering her original plan, she wandered off to the cafeteria. Pie was in order, to wash the taint of the thought of Psi Corps from her mind.
-=-
They'd put her in a cell. Boomer would have laughed at them, but she would have probably done the same. At least it wasn't the cage they'd been building on the Galactica. She remembered the plans for that thing, the experiments Baltar had been planning to run on her, the tolerances he'd been wanting to check. A shiver went through her, and she pulled her knees to her chest, staring absently at the wall opposite.
Traitor. They'd called her that, among other things. Was she a traitor?
She'd voted the way her conscience and her mind had dictated, but now she didn't know if they had been her own ideas or Cavil's. It was frightening to think that her mind wasn't her own, and comforting to realize she could think about that here, whereas, on Cavil's ship...
The door suddenly opened, and Tory Foster stepped in. She looked surprised. "Boomer?"
It was almost gratifying to be recognized. Boomer shrugged, "What do you want?"
Tory closed the door and came over to her, dropping down in front of Boomer with a gusty sigh. "I was using this room," she said, her voice annoyed. "Someone should have told me."
Like Boomer could help with that. Not moving, Boomer waited for Tory to realize she'd walked into a cell and she should probably leave, as there wasn't anything else Boomer had to say. When the silence had gone on for several minutes, Boomer realized Tory might be able to out-wait her.
"Cookies," Boomer blurted to break the silence.
"What?"
"I'd like cookies. You know, if there are any left in the fleet, which I doubt."
Tory shook her head, "Don't know, might be some at Babylon Five." She leaned forward and put her hands on Boomer's where they rested on her knees. "Why did you come back?"
It wasn't the question that surprised her, it was the projection that made Boomer jump. An office popped into being around them. Papers on the desk, the smell of coffee cutting the air and making her mouth water, sunlight pouring in the window on the right. She closed her eyes and swallowed.
"C'mon, Boomer. Why come back? Did Cavil really let you go? We know he's followed the fleet here, we got a dradis ping off of a raider that shouldn't be there."
"Why'd they send you?" Boomer shot back, annoyed and confused. She'd never realized the Final Five could project, and she wondered a little uneasily, if this was the real reason Ellen had been in her dreams. It wasn't a happy thought.
"I'm not sure it matters why they asked me." Her fingers brushed over Boomer's, and then Tory released the projection, the office draining into four gray walls again.
Boomer shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling strangely small.
"It's Hera, isn't it," Tory asked quietly. "I saw her there, Boomer. In the pictures on the desk, you have a daughter... and she's not yours."
"Are you sure you weren't projecting, Tory?" Boomer threw back at her, knowing Ms. Foster was a lot more calculating than most gave her credit for. Boomer had watched her on New Caprica, because Cavil had, and Boomer had followed his lead even then.
"Children are a necessary annoyance." Shaking her head, Tory stretched, "Don't stray from the subject, Boomer. Hera isn't an evolutionary dead end, and Cavil's been trying to create Cylon children since before the destruction of the colonies."
Boomer opened her mouth to answer, and found that, for an instant, she couldn't. With a lurch, she leaned forward, fingers brushing Tory's as she pulled them both back into projection.
"I don't know," she said, frantic to get the words out. "I don't know what Cavil wants, Tory."
"Why here?"
I'm Boomer, I don't know, help me, my mother gave me those before I went to the Academy, my life is a lie--The words tumbled over themselves, wrapping around each other, and Boomer felt something tear in her mind, some lock she hadn't know. I had to turn myself into a centurion... "Cavil wants resurrection, he knows the Five have it."
"Had it," Tory said crisply, "Ellen's the only one who might remember anything."
"And she's not talking," murmured Boomer, the projection slipping away again. She sucked in a breath. "You got any coffee around here?"
-=-
"If we're boarded--"
"That's not an if, that's a when, Commander," said Zack. He looked tired, and he'd only just been apprised of the situation. "Mr. Garibaldi always told me to expect the worst. We need to set up medical treatment centers and bases of operation for every deck and section."
"I agree. I'll need to get my staff apprised of that as soon as possible, Commander." Franklin said, looking as though he wished Susan had asked him to join her for a drink instead of bad news.
Susan wished she had drinks to go around, but good vodka wouldn't really help the situation. She ignored the mention of Garibaldi. There was no time to worry about the missing security officer, not now. "All right, when we're boarded." Turning to the Cylons, she raised her eyebrows, "What are we talking about here? Hand to hand, close quarters combat?"
"It may come to that." Stepping forward, Athena pulled out a clip and slammed it down. "Explosive rounds are the most effective method, but I gather you don't want holes in your space station."
Suppressing a wince, Susan picked up the casing and popped out one of the bullets. It was primitive but, she suspected, very effective. "Do we know how PPGs affect these centurions of his?"
D'Anna Biers cleared her throat, a slight smile playing around her lips. "Well--"
"I don't think testing on yours is a good idea," Athena replied before Biers could even suggest it.
"So, we're back to square one with baseball bats and swords," muttered Susan.
"Not quite. While we won't use bullets and projectiles, Cavil's centurions will." Sounding as tired as Susan felt, Roslin looked around at them all, meeting their eyes head-on, as though she had something to prove to herself. "It is possible that if we jump the fleet after putting up a defense, that Cavil and his ships will follow us."
Susan dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, and said, "It's a noble sentiment, but if what Ellen has said is true, it won't matter if you're here or not."
"Too, we have the White Star fleet at our disposal," Delenn pointed out. She looked around those assembled, and there was almost a smile on her face. "I do not believe your Cavil will be expecting top of the line ships to attack his."
It might not come to that. Some part of Susan really hoped that they could avoid bloodshed, but she wasn't willing to bet on it anymore than she'd be willing to bet on the Shadows simply passing them by if they came as a fleet again. "Thank you, Ambassador," she murmured.
"Of course, the rest of the League may pledge ships as well."
"You'll forgive us, Commander, Ambassador." Roslin was leaning back in her chair, allowing herself to sag a little, "We're not used to standing and fighting. We've been running for a long time."
"Too long," said Karl Agathon bitterly. He shrugged, "If you think we can take Cavil's ships with your fleet, let's do it. Evacuation just leaves us open to be chased again."
Susan's link beeped, "Ivanova, go."
"Commander, we're picking up a trace of a new vessel, on the edge of scanning range. It's similar to the smaller ships that belong to the Colonial Fleet."
"A raider," Roslin guessed, looking resolute. "We might not have that two hours."
-=-
Dee was tired, and as much as she wanted to protest it, she didn't when Louis made her sit. Instead, she drew her knees up, and wrapped her arms around herself and simply watched as the thing in Laird's body launched the ship. He liked to talk a lot, and Dee tuned him out, not caring what he was saying.
Instead, she watched the others, obsessively counting them, not wanting to lose anyone else. It felt wrong that she'd gotten nine people killed under her watch. But she wasn't up to dealing with that at the moment, either. She hadn't known any of them, and a part of her was trying to convince the rest of her that it didn't matter. But she knew better. As the one in charge, she'd been responsible.
Sam looked uncomfortable, hand occasionally moving to his neck, but he didn't pull the little black blob from his skin.
"Almost there," Laird trilled suddenly, "There's a nice concentration of Cylon in the area. That's good, that's very good." He rubbed his hands together, something Dee didn't think Laird himself had ever done. "I'm so glad they kept those creatures in production. Makes this so much easier."
Dee wondered what he was talking about, then reminded herself that she didn't really care.
"You know about the Cylons," Starbuck said, obviously not liking the forced inaction. "How?"
"They were creations of some of the younger races," was Laird's absent reply. "Such a silly conceit they had, assuming no one had ever made machines that looked like people before."
"Cylons were made by man," objected one of the others. Phillips, Dee thought. He looked at the end of his rope, and she wondered how many of the civilians still alive were close to the edge. They might decide it was worth it to kill Laird or Starbuck.
"This latest incarnation, possibly. But the originals?" Laird tsked, and smirked at Sam. "I'm sure we still have some of your schematics in our databases."
Well, that was probably a blow to someone's ego. Dee didn't know whose, yet.
"Ah!" Bouncing with pleasure, Laird moved to a different console, "There we are. And it looks like there's more than your fleet, there." A hologram popped into the air above them, filling the white space with the black of space dotted by ships of every color imaginable, and some that weren't.
A giant space station dominated the scene, though it was slightly dwarfed by the fleet of basestars surrounding it.
"Perfect," Laird murmured, before he hit a series of buttons, and the ship around them shuddered. Dee felt a change in the air, though she didn't know why. "Now, if you'll all be very good and not leave the control deck, you should be safe."
"What have you done?" demanded Starbuck.
"Changed the appearance. We now look about ten times the size we were. That should scare anyone we're up against, don't you think?"
-=-
The White Star fleet was flying as fast as it could, but it was still an hour away. Staring out the window at the mass of basestars that had appeared, Susan swallowed. They'd counted twelve in three-ship formations. She would need to stall them for this to work. It was possible that there were enough ships on Babylon Five's side to fight, but she didn't want to commit any of them to the battle yet.
With a deep breath, she steadied herself. This was normal, this was routine. It was just another fleet of ships appearing on her doorstep to be annoyed by. It was a small problem, and the station could handle it. She keyed in the colonial frequencies. "This is Commander Susan Ivanova of Earthforce Station Babylon Five, you're entering restricted airspace. Halt and identify yourself."
"I'm sure that my misguided siblings have already informed you of all sorts of ridiculous theories, Commander." A darkly sardonic voice replied. "I am not here to start a fight, I'm merely here to collect what is mine."
"And what would that be?"
"There's the little matter of them destroying the Resurrection Hub, for instance. But, I suppose that wouldn't concern you. Why not simply hand over the miscreants, and I will ignore this part of the galaxy?"
"I'm afraid that's an internal affair, and not something I'm concerned with," Susan replied, her tone dry. "But you are still in restricted airspace."
There was a pause, and then Cavil replied, "I could take what I want by force. The fleet of ships under my command could leave your little space station in pieces, everyone dead."
A threat. Susan had expected it, but the dry facts were still terrifying.
"Commander," murmured Corwin, "There's an energy wave coming in from behind Babylon Five."
From behind? "What kind of energy?"
"We're not sure, but it's getting stronger--" Someone shoved a sheet of printout at him, and he shook it out, staring at it, "It's similar in structure to those recorded from Epsilon III, but that's not where it's originating from." He frowned.
"Is it a ship?" Keeping Cavil waiting wouldn't be wise forever, but Susan wanted to know all of her options. Especially if it was Invade Babylon Five Day and no one had bothered to tell her.
"Not sure, ma'am."
"Any signals?"
"No."
Susan made an impatient noise, then said, "Send out standard greetings and ask them to hold off. One first contact at a time, Mr. Corwin!"
"Yes, ma'am."
When he moved away, Susan put herself back on a live channel, "That's a very interesting threat, Mr. Cavil. Now, you listen to me. You will back away from this station, or--"
"Commander, that energy has moved between us and the Cylon fleet."
Two things happened then, and Susan had to jerk her head away as the explosion of light as something coruscated in ever-increasing waves as something appeared in the space in front of Babylon Five.
"Well," she said, blinking her eyes to clear them as she realized that she literally couldn't see anything past the thing that had arrived, "I think our troubles just got bigger."
"Yes, sir," swallowed Corwin.
-=-
"This is going to be such fun," said Laird, and then the holographic projection changed, a dart streaking from their position and into one of the basestars.
Kara felt as though she should have been happy that Laird was attacking Cavil. But she didn't trust him further than she could throw him. On top of that, she didn't like that he'd singled out Sam, that he'd used him. Really, she was probably hypocritical for thinking that, but it was Sam. Cylon or not, he was still her husband. "What are you doing?"
"Sending out data packets. These Cylons are so easy to take over. I think I've always wanted a whole fleet of my own."
"Shouldn't that be our own?" asked Sam, shooting Kara a look of worry.
Laird laughed, the sound scornful, "And share with mere humans? You must be joking."
"Why?" asked Dee, back on her feet, and moving to stand with Kara, "Why are you doing this? You said you wanted to help us, that you were making Laird whole."
Face twisting in anger, Laird snarled, "Don't try to turn me up sweet, Anastasia Dualla. You never liked Laird. None of you did."
"That's not true. Some of us tried."
As if it mattered. Kara glanced at Hoshi, and wondered about the pain in his eyes.
"It doesn't matter." Face smooth again, Laird turned away, flicking out a hand and swiping at the controls. Another three darts streaked away in the hologram.
"We should talk to people," Dee said, "Find out what's going on. Laird, some of those are our people."
"Your people," he corrected, a sneer in his voice. "Humans."
-=-
When the giant ship had appeared, Cavil had actually laughed. "There's one for your record books, brother. Do you suppose it's the enemy of Morden and his friends?"
One had merely glared back, before turning away. "It's not doing anything."
"Not yet," murmured Cavil, as he studied the design. It wasn't familiar, but very little of what was out there that he could see through the eyes of the raiders was. Babylon Five itself was magnificent, if obviously human. And the ships that dotted the airspace around it were intriguing, to say the least.
"The big ship is firing," Four reported suddenly. His problems were of no concern to One, and never had been, though he did wonder why the doctor among them wasn't sulking somewhere in his quarters. "Some sort of projectile."
"Does it register as a nuke?"
"No."
"Then it can't really do much harm, can it."
"Probably not, but perhaps, brother," Cavil was sarcastic, "we should maneuver away from it, anyway."
"It's not coming for us," said Four, "It'll impact in two seconds, one--the baseship three over has been penetrated, there's no estimate of damage yet."
"Any explosion?"
"Negative."
"Perhaps it was a dud."
"Human technology," One mused, "Never very reliable."
The irony inherent in his statement, considering that he, and the rest of his brethren were 'human' technology, didn't seem to have occurred to him. Cavil shook his head, "Yes. Very unreliable."
Four suddenly pulled his hand free of the data stream, frowning, "We've lost contact with that basestar."
Part Ten
Part Eight
Aboard Colonial One, Lee Adama sat in a window seat, his expression intrigued as he watched the fleet, and the space station beyond.
It was intriguing, this Babylon Five. Lee had listened to some of the reports earlier, the communications chatter that ascribed everything from Godhood to the end of the universe to the auspicious occasion.
He'd also sat in with the quorum, trying to keep them calm until one of them had raised the idea that Roslin had planned everything.
Really, there were times when Lee remembered being a simple pilot, and how easy that was.
Lee had insisted on being allowed to board Colonial One, even with the hangar damaged. They'd managed to dump him a borrowed flight suit outside the airlock. He'd managed not to die or have suicidal thoughts.
As much as he'd wanted to be able to calm he quorum, Lee also wished he'd managed the same for his father. He'd tried talking to the Admiral, but between the shock of Saul Tigh's Cylonity and the loss of the battlestar, the man wasn't particularly forthcoming. Not that he ever had been, but Lee had thought they'd managed to forge some sort of relationship during the years they'd been surviving from Cylon attacks.
It was possible Adama simply hadn't forgiven him for betraying him during Baltar's trial. That was how he'd seen it, then, perhaps it was worse now.
Lee let the thought of his father go, for the moment. There were other considerations. His gaze focused on Babylon Five again and he wished Roslin had taken him as part of her ambassadorial delegation. But he understood why she hadn't: he was one of the few people she could trust not to send the fleet into chaos. Hopefully that was her reason.
If nothing else, he trusted her to always have the best interests of the human race at heart, even if that human race was suddenly only a drop in the universal bucket of life.
"Lee." Tom Zarek joined him, sliding into the seat across from Lee, his expression thoughtful. "You got out when the going was good."
It wasn't exactly a compliment. Lee pulled a face, then let his expression relax. He was never quite sure what Tom's goals were, but mostly he figured they were: a) keep Tom Zarek on top and b) profit from loss. Zarek had always been honest when it suited him. "I think we need to know more about this situation before making snap decisions," was all he said, though.
Zarek's eyes followed his, and he let the subject slide a little. "It's magnificent, isn't it? Hard to believe it houses millions, including aliens."
Aliens were hard to believe in, without proof. Lee could understand that. Then again, for large portions of the fleet cylons were hard to believe in without proof, especially if they were supposed to look human. There were still a few crackpots who believed the human-cylons had been actors hired to portray roles to make Roslin look better.
"I've always wanted to meet aliens," Lee tried for a joke, but knew it had fallen flat.
"Cylons weren't enough for you?" Zarek sounded reproving, as though his record weren't spotted with things like terrorist and malcontent.
Still, Lee continued on, his voice filling with enthusiasm. "Aliens change things, make it a whole big universe that we have yet to explore." He was almost wistful when he said, "I've always wanted to explore."
"I admire your idealism, Lee," his voice saying anything but, Zarek continued smoothly, "I'd encourage you to let the quorum see this side of you, but I think we both know they're not interested in exploring anything."
"And you are?" Lee let the irony lie between them for a moment before he shook his head, "You don't have to worry about me, Tom. I'm not about to go alien-crazy."
"See that you don't, Lee." With a wave of his hand, Zarek closed his eyes as though he were planning to take a nap.
Lee didn't believe him for an instant, but he let his worries about politics drift away and returned to watching the space station and the ships around her. She really was magnificent, and Lee wasn't sure how anyone could see her as a dark omen of doom.
-=-
Giving up on sleeping, Lyta got dressed and went in search of Zack Allen. It wasn't really his job to keep her informed, but Lyta didn't mind using him. Not that she thought of it as using him, it wasn't. They were friends. Sort of.
It was so complicated, with her position on the station being sort-of an adjunct to an Ambassador, and an unregistered telepath. It had made things difficult with Garibaldi, a time or two. He didn't trust her farther than he could throw her. But then, he wasn't around to trust her at the moment. Lyta frowned a little as she took a meandering route towards the security office.
Meandering enough that she was close to Sheridan's office when the laughter sounded in her mind again.
Stop that, she thrust at the sound, freezing in place as she started reaching out, trying to find where it was coming from.
The laughter tugged at her, then suddenly stopped.
"It's not funny," Lyta muttered, turning the next corner and coming to a halt again to watch the family approaching her.
Non-regulation uniforms, and the father was a giant. Lyta stared at them for a moment, before her eyes found the little girl, regarding her from where she leaned her head sleepily on her mother's shoulder.
"Can we help you?" Karl Agathon asked, his voice careful. He didn't want to offend the woman staring at his daughter, but he'd had more than enough of people treating her differently.
Lyta shook her head and blinked at him, her eyes focusing on Athena. "I'm sorry, it's just... I'm Lyta Alexander." She bit her lip and moved closer, her hand out, pushing at the little girl. There was nothing, this time. No laughter, no hint that she was the source.
And yet Lyta knew her instincts were right.
"Just what?" Athena demanded, still annoyed with their recent confrontation.
"You're new here, aren't you." Lyta groaned and shook her head, "I'm sorry, where are my manners. I'm Lyta Alexander."
"I'm Helo, and this is Athena and Hera."
The ancient Earth names weren't lost on Lyta, but she thought it best not to pursue for the moment. She smiled a little, "I'm not trying to be rude, but have you ever considered that your daughter might be a telepath?"
Athena's face closed down, and she tightened her hold on Hera. "I don't know what you're trying, but you can stop. Now."
Holding her hands out, showing her empty palms, Lyta shrugged, "I'm not trying anything. But... I could hear her, earlier. And it would be best to know, to keep the Psi Corps from knowing about her. Now, I can teach her some blocking tricks--"
"No." Firmly, Athena moved past her, "We're not interested."
"I'm sorry," said Helo, his expression obviously torn, he followed his wife, calling back, "Maybe another time."
"Yeah." Looking after them, Lyta wondered if there would be. Then she pushed the idea away, and resolutely ignored the laughter brushing past her mind again. It was no skin off her nose if those two didn't want to be careful with an undeveloped telepath.
Not remembering her original plan, she wandered off to the cafeteria. Pie was in order, to wash the taint of the thought of Psi Corps from her mind.
-=-
They'd put her in a cell. Boomer would have laughed at them, but she would have probably done the same. At least it wasn't the cage they'd been building on the Galactica. She remembered the plans for that thing, the experiments Baltar had been planning to run on her, the tolerances he'd been wanting to check. A shiver went through her, and she pulled her knees to her chest, staring absently at the wall opposite.
Traitor. They'd called her that, among other things. Was she a traitor?
She'd voted the way her conscience and her mind had dictated, but now she didn't know if they had been her own ideas or Cavil's. It was frightening to think that her mind wasn't her own, and comforting to realize she could think about that here, whereas, on Cavil's ship...
The door suddenly opened, and Tory Foster stepped in. She looked surprised. "Boomer?"
It was almost gratifying to be recognized. Boomer shrugged, "What do you want?"
Tory closed the door and came over to her, dropping down in front of Boomer with a gusty sigh. "I was using this room," she said, her voice annoyed. "Someone should have told me."
Like Boomer could help with that. Not moving, Boomer waited for Tory to realize she'd walked into a cell and she should probably leave, as there wasn't anything else Boomer had to say. When the silence had gone on for several minutes, Boomer realized Tory might be able to out-wait her.
"Cookies," Boomer blurted to break the silence.
"What?"
"I'd like cookies. You know, if there are any left in the fleet, which I doubt."
Tory shook her head, "Don't know, might be some at Babylon Five." She leaned forward and put her hands on Boomer's where they rested on her knees. "Why did you come back?"
It wasn't the question that surprised her, it was the projection that made Boomer jump. An office popped into being around them. Papers on the desk, the smell of coffee cutting the air and making her mouth water, sunlight pouring in the window on the right. She closed her eyes and swallowed.
"C'mon, Boomer. Why come back? Did Cavil really let you go? We know he's followed the fleet here, we got a dradis ping off of a raider that shouldn't be there."
"Why'd they send you?" Boomer shot back, annoyed and confused. She'd never realized the Final Five could project, and she wondered a little uneasily, if this was the real reason Ellen had been in her dreams. It wasn't a happy thought.
"I'm not sure it matters why they asked me." Her fingers brushed over Boomer's, and then Tory released the projection, the office draining into four gray walls again.
Boomer shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling strangely small.
"It's Hera, isn't it," Tory asked quietly. "I saw her there, Boomer. In the pictures on the desk, you have a daughter... and she's not yours."
"Are you sure you weren't projecting, Tory?" Boomer threw back at her, knowing Ms. Foster was a lot more calculating than most gave her credit for. Boomer had watched her on New Caprica, because Cavil had, and Boomer had followed his lead even then.
"Children are a necessary annoyance." Shaking her head, Tory stretched, "Don't stray from the subject, Boomer. Hera isn't an evolutionary dead end, and Cavil's been trying to create Cylon children since before the destruction of the colonies."
Boomer opened her mouth to answer, and found that, for an instant, she couldn't. With a lurch, she leaned forward, fingers brushing Tory's as she pulled them both back into projection.
"I don't know," she said, frantic to get the words out. "I don't know what Cavil wants, Tory."
"Why here?"
I'm Boomer, I don't know, help me, my mother gave me those before I went to the Academy, my life is a lie--The words tumbled over themselves, wrapping around each other, and Boomer felt something tear in her mind, some lock she hadn't know. I had to turn myself into a centurion... "Cavil wants resurrection, he knows the Five have it."
"Had it," Tory said crisply, "Ellen's the only one who might remember anything."
"And she's not talking," murmured Boomer, the projection slipping away again. She sucked in a breath. "You got any coffee around here?"
-=-
"If we're boarded--"
"That's not an if, that's a when, Commander," said Zack. He looked tired, and he'd only just been apprised of the situation. "Mr. Garibaldi always told me to expect the worst. We need to set up medical treatment centers and bases of operation for every deck and section."
"I agree. I'll need to get my staff apprised of that as soon as possible, Commander." Franklin said, looking as though he wished Susan had asked him to join her for a drink instead of bad news.
Susan wished she had drinks to go around, but good vodka wouldn't really help the situation. She ignored the mention of Garibaldi. There was no time to worry about the missing security officer, not now. "All right, when we're boarded." Turning to the Cylons, she raised her eyebrows, "What are we talking about here? Hand to hand, close quarters combat?"
"It may come to that." Stepping forward, Athena pulled out a clip and slammed it down. "Explosive rounds are the most effective method, but I gather you don't want holes in your space station."
Suppressing a wince, Susan picked up the casing and popped out one of the bullets. It was primitive but, she suspected, very effective. "Do we know how PPGs affect these centurions of his?"
D'Anna Biers cleared her throat, a slight smile playing around her lips. "Well--"
"I don't think testing on yours is a good idea," Athena replied before Biers could even suggest it.
"So, we're back to square one with baseball bats and swords," muttered Susan.
"Not quite. While we won't use bullets and projectiles, Cavil's centurions will." Sounding as tired as Susan felt, Roslin looked around at them all, meeting their eyes head-on, as though she had something to prove to herself. "It is possible that if we jump the fleet after putting up a defense, that Cavil and his ships will follow us."
Susan dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, and said, "It's a noble sentiment, but if what Ellen has said is true, it won't matter if you're here or not."
"Too, we have the White Star fleet at our disposal," Delenn pointed out. She looked around those assembled, and there was almost a smile on her face. "I do not believe your Cavil will be expecting top of the line ships to attack his."
It might not come to that. Some part of Susan really hoped that they could avoid bloodshed, but she wasn't willing to bet on it anymore than she'd be willing to bet on the Shadows simply passing them by if they came as a fleet again. "Thank you, Ambassador," she murmured.
"Of course, the rest of the League may pledge ships as well."
"You'll forgive us, Commander, Ambassador." Roslin was leaning back in her chair, allowing herself to sag a little, "We're not used to standing and fighting. We've been running for a long time."
"Too long," said Karl Agathon bitterly. He shrugged, "If you think we can take Cavil's ships with your fleet, let's do it. Evacuation just leaves us open to be chased again."
Susan's link beeped, "Ivanova, go."
"Commander, we're picking up a trace of a new vessel, on the edge of scanning range. It's similar to the smaller ships that belong to the Colonial Fleet."
"A raider," Roslin guessed, looking resolute. "We might not have that two hours."
-=-
Dee was tired, and as much as she wanted to protest it, she didn't when Louis made her sit. Instead, she drew her knees up, and wrapped her arms around herself and simply watched as the thing in Laird's body launched the ship. He liked to talk a lot, and Dee tuned him out, not caring what he was saying.
Instead, she watched the others, obsessively counting them, not wanting to lose anyone else. It felt wrong that she'd gotten nine people killed under her watch. But she wasn't up to dealing with that at the moment, either. She hadn't known any of them, and a part of her was trying to convince the rest of her that it didn't matter. But she knew better. As the one in charge, she'd been responsible.
Sam looked uncomfortable, hand occasionally moving to his neck, but he didn't pull the little black blob from his skin.
"Almost there," Laird trilled suddenly, "There's a nice concentration of Cylon in the area. That's good, that's very good." He rubbed his hands together, something Dee didn't think Laird himself had ever done. "I'm so glad they kept those creatures in production. Makes this so much easier."
Dee wondered what he was talking about, then reminded herself that she didn't really care.
"You know about the Cylons," Starbuck said, obviously not liking the forced inaction. "How?"
"They were creations of some of the younger races," was Laird's absent reply. "Such a silly conceit they had, assuming no one had ever made machines that looked like people before."
"Cylons were made by man," objected one of the others. Phillips, Dee thought. He looked at the end of his rope, and she wondered how many of the civilians still alive were close to the edge. They might decide it was worth it to kill Laird or Starbuck.
"This latest incarnation, possibly. But the originals?" Laird tsked, and smirked at Sam. "I'm sure we still have some of your schematics in our databases."
Well, that was probably a blow to someone's ego. Dee didn't know whose, yet.
"Ah!" Bouncing with pleasure, Laird moved to a different console, "There we are. And it looks like there's more than your fleet, there." A hologram popped into the air above them, filling the white space with the black of space dotted by ships of every color imaginable, and some that weren't.
A giant space station dominated the scene, though it was slightly dwarfed by the fleet of basestars surrounding it.
"Perfect," Laird murmured, before he hit a series of buttons, and the ship around them shuddered. Dee felt a change in the air, though she didn't know why. "Now, if you'll all be very good and not leave the control deck, you should be safe."
"What have you done?" demanded Starbuck.
"Changed the appearance. We now look about ten times the size we were. That should scare anyone we're up against, don't you think?"
-=-
The White Star fleet was flying as fast as it could, but it was still an hour away. Staring out the window at the mass of basestars that had appeared, Susan swallowed. They'd counted twelve in three-ship formations. She would need to stall them for this to work. It was possible that there were enough ships on Babylon Five's side to fight, but she didn't want to commit any of them to the battle yet.
With a deep breath, she steadied herself. This was normal, this was routine. It was just another fleet of ships appearing on her doorstep to be annoyed by. It was a small problem, and the station could handle it. She keyed in the colonial frequencies. "This is Commander Susan Ivanova of Earthforce Station Babylon Five, you're entering restricted airspace. Halt and identify yourself."
"I'm sure that my misguided siblings have already informed you of all sorts of ridiculous theories, Commander." A darkly sardonic voice replied. "I am not here to start a fight, I'm merely here to collect what is mine."
"And what would that be?"
"There's the little matter of them destroying the Resurrection Hub, for instance. But, I suppose that wouldn't concern you. Why not simply hand over the miscreants, and I will ignore this part of the galaxy?"
"I'm afraid that's an internal affair, and not something I'm concerned with," Susan replied, her tone dry. "But you are still in restricted airspace."
There was a pause, and then Cavil replied, "I could take what I want by force. The fleet of ships under my command could leave your little space station in pieces, everyone dead."
A threat. Susan had expected it, but the dry facts were still terrifying.
"Commander," murmured Corwin, "There's an energy wave coming in from behind Babylon Five."
From behind? "What kind of energy?"
"We're not sure, but it's getting stronger--" Someone shoved a sheet of printout at him, and he shook it out, staring at it, "It's similar in structure to those recorded from Epsilon III, but that's not where it's originating from." He frowned.
"Is it a ship?" Keeping Cavil waiting wouldn't be wise forever, but Susan wanted to know all of her options. Especially if it was Invade Babylon Five Day and no one had bothered to tell her.
"Not sure, ma'am."
"Any signals?"
"No."
Susan made an impatient noise, then said, "Send out standard greetings and ask them to hold off. One first contact at a time, Mr. Corwin!"
"Yes, ma'am."
When he moved away, Susan put herself back on a live channel, "That's a very interesting threat, Mr. Cavil. Now, you listen to me. You will back away from this station, or--"
"Commander, that energy has moved between us and the Cylon fleet."
Two things happened then, and Susan had to jerk her head away as the explosion of light as something coruscated in ever-increasing waves as something appeared in the space in front of Babylon Five.
"Well," she said, blinking her eyes to clear them as she realized that she literally couldn't see anything past the thing that had arrived, "I think our troubles just got bigger."
"Yes, sir," swallowed Corwin.
-=-
"This is going to be such fun," said Laird, and then the holographic projection changed, a dart streaking from their position and into one of the basestars.
Kara felt as though she should have been happy that Laird was attacking Cavil. But she didn't trust him further than she could throw him. On top of that, she didn't like that he'd singled out Sam, that he'd used him. Really, she was probably hypocritical for thinking that, but it was Sam. Cylon or not, he was still her husband. "What are you doing?"
"Sending out data packets. These Cylons are so easy to take over. I think I've always wanted a whole fleet of my own."
"Shouldn't that be our own?" asked Sam, shooting Kara a look of worry.
Laird laughed, the sound scornful, "And share with mere humans? You must be joking."
"Why?" asked Dee, back on her feet, and moving to stand with Kara, "Why are you doing this? You said you wanted to help us, that you were making Laird whole."
Face twisting in anger, Laird snarled, "Don't try to turn me up sweet, Anastasia Dualla. You never liked Laird. None of you did."
"That's not true. Some of us tried."
As if it mattered. Kara glanced at Hoshi, and wondered about the pain in his eyes.
"It doesn't matter." Face smooth again, Laird turned away, flicking out a hand and swiping at the controls. Another three darts streaked away in the hologram.
"We should talk to people," Dee said, "Find out what's going on. Laird, some of those are our people."
"Your people," he corrected, a sneer in his voice. "Humans."
-=-
When the giant ship had appeared, Cavil had actually laughed. "There's one for your record books, brother. Do you suppose it's the enemy of Morden and his friends?"
One had merely glared back, before turning away. "It's not doing anything."
"Not yet," murmured Cavil, as he studied the design. It wasn't familiar, but very little of what was out there that he could see through the eyes of the raiders was. Babylon Five itself was magnificent, if obviously human. And the ships that dotted the airspace around it were intriguing, to say the least.
"The big ship is firing," Four reported suddenly. His problems were of no concern to One, and never had been, though he did wonder why the doctor among them wasn't sulking somewhere in his quarters. "Some sort of projectile."
"Does it register as a nuke?"
"No."
"Then it can't really do much harm, can it."
"Probably not, but perhaps, brother," Cavil was sarcastic, "we should maneuver away from it, anyway."
"It's not coming for us," said Four, "It'll impact in two seconds, one--the baseship three over has been penetrated, there's no estimate of damage yet."
"Any explosion?"
"Negative."
"Perhaps it was a dud."
"Human technology," One mused, "Never very reliable."
The irony inherent in his statement, considering that he, and the rest of his brethren were 'human' technology, didn't seem to have occurred to him. Cavil shook his head, "Yes. Very unreliable."
Four suddenly pulled his hand free of the data stream, frowning, "We've lost contact with that basestar."
Part Ten
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