Breaking the Veil (Commissioned NuBSG/BT crossover)

[MarkWarrior]

Location: In Orbit of Caprica, Twelve Colonies
Year: 1980C/20BCH

"So, remind me why they're pushing back the retirement of the Daedalus," Colonel Francis Woullard said, looking at the small group forming around the Valkyrie-Class battlestar. "Because I was looking forward to finally getting to enjoy my grandkids."

"Because, some sort of distress beacon came from deep space," Commander Ike Senner replied. "And the Powers that Be have seen fit to send all of us Old Bastards out to go check on it. Lieutenant Lenz, open up a channel to the rest of the fleet. I'll give them a quick update."

"Opening channels now, sir," Lenz replied, his salt and pepper hair showing he was one of the youngest members of the crew. "The fleet's ready when you are."

"This is Commander Senner," Ike began, speaking into the handset he'd grabbed. "I'll keep this as brief as possible, given you've all already been given this information. Three days ago, a communication was received from deep space. It was unencrypted, but we were able to make out some familiar words, including one of a request for assistance. Now, High Command is aware that it is possible that this is a Cylon lure to force us to break the armistice. But, they have decided that it is worth the risk if there is a lost colony out there. You have all served for many years, protecting the twelve colonies, ensuring that our loved ones are safe. Now we're being trusted once more, this time with a mission of exploration and aid. After this is finished, I look forward to a nice retirement party with you all. But if it does lead to war. At least us old bastards were the first into the breach. May the gods watch over us and direct our footsteps as we journey into the unknown. Senner, out."

"You know, if they were going to send us on an exploration mission, they could have sent us with more modern ships and sensors," Woullard complained. "I mean, hell, we're only missing the Galactica to round out this group."

"Older ships are less valuable to the Fleet, sir," Lenz offered. "Given the Daedalus is the oldest of the Valkyries, it makes sense they'd send us."

"We're all expendable here, Lieutenant," Woullard chuckled. "The Old Bastards are just more expendable than others."

"Aye, sir," Lenz nodded, seemingly lost in memory for a moment before he snapped back to the present and continued. "Commander, the fleet's ready to jump when you give the word. FTL drives are ready to spin up, and we've got the basic course laid out for us to follow to the broadcast location."

"Alright, Lieutenant," Commander Senner nodded. "Tell the rest of the fleet to begin jumping, Scouts first, then the rest of us follow once we're given the all clear."

–
–
Three days later…

"Well, Commander, after this next jump, we'll be fully out of explored space," Lieutenant Lenz informed Senner. "How do you want the fleet to proceed from here on out?"

"If this is a trap like I suspect," Colonel Woullard said from his seat. "Then, we should take it slow, Ike. The last thing we need is to burn out our drives jumping far and fast like we've got something to prove. 'Sides, we're collecting extra pay for the retirement checks. Might as well take our time."

"I'm more concerned with the exploration aspects, Colonel," Senner replied. "We've got an opportunity to map out potential resource deposits and maybe even a place for us to Kobolform some new colonies later. So, here's how we're going to proceed. We scout at one system per week, depending on the distance. Then we stop and scan everything that is in the system. I want us to know where everything is and what it is. In the event this turns out to be a Cylon trap, we'll still have at least one ship with the data available and ready to return to the Colonies and the fleet."

"Yessir," Lenz nodded. "Sending message to the rest of the fleet."

"Lieutenant, you have the con," Senner said after a moment. "Colonel, please join me in my office."

The CO and XO of the small fleet left the bridge to the other officers and vanished into the 'shoe closet' that was Commander Senner's office.

"They offered to let me retire fully instead of doing this last mission," Senner said once he'd sat down and pulled out a small glass bottle from a drawer. "I almost took them up on the offer. Figured I'd give you your shot at commanding a fleet before you retire."

"Frak that," Woullard swore, laughing as Senner poured two glasses of the liquor. "I'd have told them no and gone home for the last time."

"That's why I took it anyway," Senner chuckled. "Frank, I don't think this is a Cylon trap."

"Why not, Ike?" Francis leaned forward. "Because it certainly looks a lot like one of the ones we used to encounter during the War. Fake a distress call, lure a few ships in, and then ambush them when they respond."

"No, that part lines up with what we know," Ike agreed. "But I think this is more of a case for Fleet Command to write us off. We're old, we're not as good at using new tech like they want, and we're stuck in our ways. The reason I don't believe this is a Cylon trap is the language. If the Cylons wanted to fake a distress call from someone, they'd use our language. Not whatever gibberish was in the message we received. Besides, the beacon's ancient by our standards. The tech types put the date that it originated from anywhere between four hundred and five hundred years old."

"It just took that long to reach us," Woullard grabbed the shot glass and slammed it back. "So, whatever attacked them might still be out there. Waiting for us?"

"That, or it was the dying gasp of a distant prespaceflight civilization," Senner sighed. "Either way, I want the full route to that system explored. If we do run into some sort of advanced enemy, or an alien of some kind, we're going to need a clear route back to the colonies."

"I'll make sure our CAG is ready for launch if that ever happens," Woullard nodded. "Did you need anything else, Ike?"

"Just to talk about the grandkids," the CO grinned. "Chuck's going to get his pilot's license this year. He's intent on signing up with the Fleet."

"Well, talk him out of it," Woullard shook his head. "Civilian hauling pays better, and you have less idiots to deal with. At least he's sticking with the Navy. My grandkids are following in their father's footsteps. Not Marines, not Navy, but Army. I don't know where I went wrong in raising him, but it must have been something his mother said…"

---

Three months later…


"Alright, ladies, this should be the last system we have to scout and clear for the rest of the fleet," Lieutenant Jaime "Ice" Ernalia informed the handful of Raptor Mk. IIIa's that made up her scouting force. "Spin up FTL drives and follow my lead. We're not here for a fight; we're just here to ensure the next system's clear."

"ECM is on standby, ma'am," Ensign Kim Atsu said. "Just waiting on the rest of the Raptors to report in."

A few moments later, the rest of the six-Raptor scouting force had done so, and they jumped into the next system. Their final destination.

"Wow," Atsu snarked as the initial scans started coming in. "Another star system with nothing in it."

"Wait, that doesn't look like the usual asteroid belts we've seen so far," Jaime shook her head. "Looks more like a debris field from back in the War."

"Frak," Atsu agreed. "I'm not seeing any active signatures on the medium scans, though."

"Hey, Ice," Hansa 'Carver' Zende called out over the wireless. "Ash here's identified what he thinks is a couple of half-destroyed wrecks within medium scanner range. I'm going to take Victim as backup and go check them out."

"Just get scans and fall back to the rest of the group," Ice ordered. "Once we've established that there isn't an ambush waiting here, we'll jump back to the fleet. Their sensors are going to be better than ours anyway."

"Copy that, ma'am, we're en route now. ETA is about an hour, maybe more."

"We'll find it in our hearts to wait for you, Carver." Ice snarked back. "I can't promise the same for Bankroller."

"Hey, you know me. Always on the move!" the cheery Raptor pilot chirped back. "Sleeping in a cockpit's way more comfortable than the benches in the park."

"You would be the only one to know that," Knife sighed. "Ice, can I swap partners? I'd rather not have 'Roller on my six."

"Take it up with the Major when we get back," Ice replied. "He's the one who assigned the wingmen for this op."

"Frak," Knife swore. " 'Roller, I swear to the gods that if you get me killed that I'll haunt you for the rest of eternity."

After that, the wireless filled with the chatter from the Cylon War veterans. This was the third month they'd been rotating into these scouting runs, and with how little they had seen, the Major had allowed them to relax their wireless security measures.

"Jaime," Atsu said as his ECM console beeped. "We just had the signal we're supposed to investigate send out the broadcast again."

"Well, let's listen to it, see if we can understand anything now that we're closer," the Lieutenant replied.

The once full wireless was now silent as the entire Raptor group listened to the beacon's message. Instead of the garbled mess they'd been given on the initial deployment, they heard it clearly. The radio waves were no longer bouncing out and around the stars.

"They sound like they're speaking that language from the show my grandkids watch," Knife commented. "You know, the one with the made-up orks and shit?"

"I'll take your word for it," Ice shrugged. "Carver, what's the status on your scans? I want to get the full message back to the fleet ASAP."

"Another fifteen minutes and we'll be ready to jump," Carver replied. "Victim here's a wiz at cutting down the scanning time."

Victim had never been one to speak all that much, and simply clicked the radio once in response.

"Well, we'll get the coordinates calculated for you and send 'em to you so you're ready to jump when the rest of us are," Atsu informed the two craft that were scanning the wreckage.

–
–

"So, it looks like some sort of battle took place, lieutenant?" Commander Senner removed his cap, revealing his bald head for a brief moment as he considered all the information the Lieutenant and her scouting team had provided.

"Yes, sir," Jaime nodded. "According to Victim's scans, it looks like it was done with conventional weaponry. Although he did admit that it's possible they used nukes and that it was so long ago that any radiation might have long since dissipated. It's also possible that we missed something; we didn't want to stray too far into the system."

"Thank you, lieutenant," Colonel Woullard nodded. "Go get some rest, I'll have the Major handle the rest of your team's debriefing."

"So, what'd you think?" The colonel turned to the Commander. "Do we jump in and take a look behind the veil?"

Ike Senner had folded his hands underneath his chin and seemed to be deep in thought before he nodded and stood up. "Alright, Frank, fold the fleet into formation," Senner opened the door to the bridge and stepped out onto it. "All hands to battle stations. I want Vipers prepped for launch, and everyone ready to jump in the next twenty minutes!"

---

"Alright, people, listen up! Because I'm only going to say this once," Captain Jorge Lezzhov yelled over the din of machinery. "Outside of the initial scans, we have no idea what's waiting for us down there," he pointed at his feet. "It looks like everything's destroyed and that there aren't any people down there. But we have no way of verifying that without getting our boots on the ground. So, we're going in and taking a look around before the navy-types and the big brains start examining shit. Keep your weapons on the ready and your heads on a swivel. I didn't keep you all alive through the Cylon War just to have you die to some alien freak on another planet. Any questions?"

"Yessir," A corporal grinned. "What're our orders regarding loot?"

"If you can carry it and it fits in your bunk, you can keep it," the Major replied. "Now, get to your designated Raptors, it's time to see what kind of aliens we're dealing with."

"I thought I told you I didn't do taxi services for free anymore," Ice commented when a group of Marines and familiar faces entered her Raptor's troop bay.

"Just put it on our tab," Jorge replied. "The Corps'll pay for it eventually."

"You hear that, Atsu?" Jaime turned to her partner. "We're gonna be rich in a few years."

"I don't remember the Corps ever paying for our services," Atsu smirked behind his helmet. "In fact, don't they still owe us from the War?"

"Nah, we wiped that slate clean after they bailed us out on Vergon, remember?" Ice asked.

"Right," Atsu nodded. "I suppose we'll start a new tab for you, Major. But don't go forgetting to pay us this time."

"Drinks are on me when we're back in the colonies," Jorge promised as the Raptor left the launch bay and began its descent through the atmosphere. "I might even find something for you down below."

The Major closed his mouth as soon as the ship began shaking upon reaching the edge of the atmosphere. Jaime and Atsu might not have been affected by the usual procedures, but Marines are a superstitious bunch, and it had long been established tradition that speaking on the way down was a surefire way to go down upon entry.

Once they'd broken through the barrier of the atmosphere, a small screen in the troop bay showed what the cameras in the front of the Raptor were seeing.

"We're going to set you down in that intersection," Ice broke the stunned silence. "We're not detecting any radiological or other warnings, so whatever nukes got used here, the radiation levels have long since passed."

The Raptor slowed and came to a stop in the intersection Ice had indicated.

"Alright, people," Jorge said, unstrapping himself and hefting his carbine, the weapon looking small in his massive paws. "We've got our mission, let's take a look around."

"We'll hang around to assist with maintaining contact with the other groups," Ice called out to the Major. "Just let us know if you need anything."

All around the ten-man group of marines were skyscrapers. Some looked almost pristine, while others had been bombed into oblivion or had toppled over.

"It almost looks like some of the cities did after the War," Sergeant Malcom said quietly.

"I don't recall any of our cities looking this bad," a private replied. "And I was in the thick of the city fighting on Tauron."

"Alright, let's see if we can find a government building of some kind," Jorge said into his radio. "All teams, fan out, look for a symbol of government or any signs of intelligent life."

"Yes, sir!"

The Marines spread out and began exploring the ruined city until another group got into contact with the Major.

"Major Lezzhov, you're going to want to see this," Sergeant Volke's voice chirped on the wireless. "I think I've found where the distress call is coming from. Along with something else… But you'll need to see it to believe me."

"I'm on my way, Volke. Signal your position with smoke," Jorge switched channels. "Ice, I need a pickup on the location of the Flare I'm about to send up. One of the other platoons found something, and I need a ride."

Pulling the small pistol from his belt, Jorge pointed it into the sky and squeezed the trigger, the bright glow of the green light illuminating his position for the Raptor to see.

---

"What is it you wanted to show me, Sergeant?" Jorge dismounted the Raptor and waved at Ice as she lifted off.

"Right this way, sir," The sergeant replied, beginning a fast walk down the street. "I was going to explain it over the wireless, but this is better if you see it in person. Also, we're pretty sure that the people here were human, or at least close to it."

"What makes you say that, sergeant?" Jorge asked.

"We found a few skeletons around the distress beacon in the government building," Volke said. "They looked an awful lot like the burnt husks I saw during the war."

"I thought we didn't have any colonies out this far," the Major commented.

"I dunno, sir. That's for the scientists to figure out," Volke shrugged. "But we're pretty sure that," He pointed at something that was so large, Jorge had dismissed it as a trick of the eyes at first. "That is one of the things that killed the people here. Well, that and the nukes."

"That's the largest frakking Cylon I've ever seen," Jorge clutched his carbine closer as if it would help protect him.

"Yessir, we think it's also why some of the 'scrapers around here got demolished. Set some charges up, and you can drop a building on one of these things as it walks by if you do it right. I can't imagine fighting one of them on foot outside of that and having a lot of air cover."

"It also explains the nukes," Jorge sighed. "Alright, let's get the Navy down here. Time for the eggheads they hired to earn their keep. If these things were active enough to kill us, they'd have already done so."

"Ice, please let the Commander know that we've found a government building and have secured it for further study. We're going to hold until given further instructions, Major Lezzhov, out."

---

"What do you have for me, Doctor Russell?" Ike asked the question that was burning in everyone's mind.

"This is definitely a dead human colony," The archaeologist said. "But I'm not sure that the Cylons had anything to do with the fallout. It appears to me that there was a divergent evolution in our paths. We developed the Cylons, and they developed these," the screen displayed a multi-story bipedal machine. "Our Cylons made use of artificial intelligence, whereas these require a human pilot to ensure the tasks are done. There is also no Tylium to be found on this world or the surrounding planets."

"Then what happened here?" Colonel Woullard asked. "What are we going to report to the brass at the Fleet?"

"I believe that there was an internal conflict that manifested in a civil war," Russell replied. "According to close scans of the planet taken by raptors, the nuclear weapons used damaged the ecology of the world, ash clouds decimated plant life, and it's only recently that the world itself has begun to recover. If the people who lived here didn't evacuate, then they died. It's possible that there may be records of where they would have gone, but it would take time to translate and figure such things out. At present, I have only translated the name of this nation. Anything more would take time that I do not believe we possess."

"No," Commander Senner agreed. "Fleet HQ will expect a report fairly soon. We've got another week or so to explore and make conclusions at most."

"Then my recommendation is to pack up everything that may reveal their secrets to us and to bring them back to the Colonies," Russell said. "My colleagues and I will have more time to study it at the university, and if more is needed, we can return at a later date with a civilian fleet to inspect this wreckage of this 'Taurian Concordat'."

Senner considered this for a few moments before exhaling a heavy sigh.

"Alright, I'll have extra personnel and shuttles sent down with you, Doctor. We'll load up what we can and will bring it back with us for the return trip."

"Thank you, Commander." Russell grabbed his satchel and stack of books.

"And Doctor, please try to keep your lab clean," Senner said before the archaeologist had left. "I've had far too many sailors tripping over books for it to be safe there."

"I'll see what I can do, Commander," The Doctor vanished around the corner.

"So, you think we're going to end up having to come back on a return trip?" Woullard asked.

"I all but guarantee it," Senner sighed. "So much for retirement. It looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while…"

Author's note: I'm probably going to leave this as a one-shot unless someone commissions more of it. Still, enjoy, @CrazedGamma1721's commission.

 

[CrazedGamma1721]

Awesome work, will definitely want more.

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 2

Location: Taurian Concordat Homeworld?
Year: 1981C/19BCH

"So, they denied your request again?" Colonel Woullard asked.

"We're stuck with the fleet we've got now," Commander Senner sighed. "Fleet HQ considers this project important enough to keep us here and not allow us to retire. But not enough for them to give us enough ships to properly defend everything. Besides, they're more concerned with the recent maneuvers the Cylons have made near the Line."

"Any luck with convincing Russell that we need the civilian sector to pick up the slack where the fleet won't?" Woullard asked. "At least he's got a good head on his shoulders. Unlike some of the other scientists we've worked with in the past."

"Yes," Senner nodded. "And he agrees. But convincing the wealthy backers behind the digs is a different story altogether."

"Then what are we left with, a handful of us endlessly patrolling a dead system?" Woullard shook his head and sagged into his chair."

"Not entirely," the Commander smirked. "Lieutenant Lenz thinks that it may be possible to salvage and refit one of the wrecks that are in the system. I've got Ice and her group of Raptors doing surveys now. Even if we can't get those hulks operational again, we can use the wreckage and whatever salvage we pull out of them to start working on some sort of defense satellites."

"Frak," Woullard swore, knowing what Senner was about to command him to do.

"And as our foremost expert on technology that doesn't belong to the Colonies," Senner clapped his XO and friend on the back. "I'm putting you in charge of the project."

"I can still retire!" The colonel protested.

"Nope, we all renewed our contracts. I've got you for another ten years," Ike relaxed. "Look, Frank, you were able to crack Cylon systems; surely this shouldn't be too hard for you."

"I developed programs that worked with their old tech," Frank shook his head. "And only because their systems were similar enough that I could bootstrap our own codes and backdoors to make it work. That's an entirely different story from trying to design and interface with some alien technology. Let alone one that the scientists still can't translate."

"It's either we do it or the civilian sector gets to look at the technology first. If we do that, then we won't see any results from the research make it to the Fleet for another twenty years."

"We won't see the results from sending off tech samples for that long anyway," Frank replied. "The Brass won't put money into something that's not a sure thing. We both know that. They're all in on bigger ships and guns. Not putting their budgets into researching better, more efficient guns and ships."

"That's why we're repurposing them," Ike leaned forward. "If we have control, then we get to decide what samples we send back. We can keep some and repurpose them into our defenses. Then, if and when the Cylons come knocking, we'll have a surprise waiting for them."

"We have no idea how long that'll take, though," the Colonel cracked his neck. "It could be years before we have anything like that completed."

"And we have no idea how long this peace will hold with the Cylons either," Senner replied. "None of us knows what the future holds, Frank. I'm not expecting perfection, I just want you to try."

"Fine. But I want it noted that I don't think this will work," the Colonel tossed back his liquor. "This isn't the shows or movies, and making technology talk to each other isn't an easy ask. Now pour me another glass, Ike. I'm not drunk enough for this shit yet."

–
–

"I should have told him no again," Frank sighed as he looked over the barely lit and foreign computers. "We can't even read the language yet, how am I supposed to make them talk?"

At least they'd been able to tow the wrecks into orbit around the planet. Their Tylium generators powered some of the life-support modules they'd brought in, and they'd been able to close enough bulkheads to keep an atmosphere in certain areas. Yet, none of that made a single difference if he couldn't figure out what the computer said.

The worst part was that there were times when the characters almost looked familiar! As if he could read them. But the next bit would be nothing but writing that was jumbled together. IT was like there were multiple languages on this computer, and it was maddening! How was someone supposed to deal with computers that had multiple languages across them?

Sure, he could navigate the controls just fine. There were only so many ways that a human could configure anything like that. And through simple trial and error, he'd managed to get the dull red of some sort of emergency lights to appear. But anything beyond that was going to require him to do something he really didn't want to do.

He'd have to go down to the planet and ask the archaeologists for help. Russell was acceptable; he'd served with the rest of them during the War. But the others? They were civilians through and through. There was no respect for what the military was doing here, or what their missions might be.

Maybe he could bribe Russell into making an appearance and helping him out. Frank had tucked aside a few bottles of Ambrosia and a few other treats. Besides, Russell still owed him one for bailing him out fifteen years ago. He didn't want to have to cash that favor in yet.

It might be worth it to be able to actually read and understand the frakking characters on the screen, though. Because if he made the red lights flicker like youngsters in a club again, he might break the damned terminal before getting any use out of it.

Stripping some of the unknown weapons off the wreckage for study had been easy in comparison to this.

"I'm too damned old to be figuring this sort of shit out," Frank swore, turning away and floating away from the infuriating terminal. "Frakking technology doesn't even use Tylium or have artificial gravity!"

---

"So, what'd you think of the ships we scanned?" Kim Atsu passed around some cold beer to the rest of the Raptor pilots and ECM operators.

"They're certainly not built the same as ours," Hansa said, the burly man accepting the beer in one of his massive paws that he called hands. "I mean, they all look like giant fish. Who designs a ship like that?"

"It could be easier for their point defenses to handle," Ash shrugged, the tiny blond woman looking small beside the person who usually sat in the cockpit with her. "Or it could just be the design philosophy. Who knows?"

"Some of the fighters we saw in the hangers look interesting," Jaime leaned her head against the cool wall next to her bunk. "I wonder what it would be like to fly one."

"Heh," Kim shook his head. "We all know that we're not going to get that chance. If anyone gets to fly one of those birds, it's going to be the Viper pilots."

"I wonder what extra money we can make off selling the images to media companies back in the Colonies?" Jackson "Bankroller" Reese asked, his ragged appearance and uniform at odds with the callsign. "Maybe I can afford to finally rent an apartment?"

"Jackson, any money you have when we get off this deployment will be gone by the end of the week," Elsa "Knife" Rose shook her head. "You don't know how to stay away from the frakking casinos long enough to keep it."

"Why worry about the colonies at all?" Drew "Victim" Ramada asked. "There's plenty of real estate to take ownership of down there," He pointed down towards where the planet was. "Pick a building, get the power and water running to it, and you'll have all the space you could want."

"That assumes we want to stay here, though," Jaime commented. "I'd be fine with it. I ain't got nothing to tie me down back home. But most of y'all have families. You gonna bring them with you and put down roots here?"

"I'd be willing to," Kim shrugged. "Look, we haven't set up a new colony since before the War. Why not use this as an opportunity? Half the work for building a city's already been done for us. We just need to get agriculture set up again."

"Sure, there's just the fact that these people fought a war against Cylons that were so large they had to drop entire buildings on them to kill them," Knife snarked, her bored voice taking on a sharp tone. "We also still don't know what happened to the people or the Cylons yet."

"I'm not saying that we put down and settle here immediately," Kim retorted. "I'm just saying it wouldn't surprise me if some people saw it as an option to retire down there."

"I'll figure something out," Drew said quietly. "I'm pretty sure there's some beachfront property around that I can snag for a party later."

"We can figure all that kinda stuff out later," Jaime lay down on her pillow and closed her eyes. "For now, we need to all get some shuteye. Commander Senner wants us to investigate the asteroid belt and the moons of the gas giants to see if there's anything we missed during the first system survey."

"Frak," Hansa swore. "That'll take weeks to fully survey, Ice."

"I know," the squadron CO sighed in response. "But Senner's got a point. We didn't spend a ton of time on the belt while doing the initial survey. We were looking for any signs of Cylon activity and checking out the wrecks that are all around the system. We weren't looking around for anything else. He's hoping that we can find mineral deposits that are easy to get to or maybe even some Tylium to keep the ships and generators fueled."
"Because we're not a frakking priority," Elsa growled. "Mark my words, we won't see a single tanker ship for another year. Fleet HQ wanted to get rid of us anyway. Wouldn't surprise me if they just wrote us all off as a loss."

"They're just fighting with everything else for funding," Drew shrugged. "The way that they get what they want is by pointing out the immediate threats. Not potential ones. We don't know everything that happened here yet. Until then, we're stuck. So, might as well find a house on the beach and enjoy it when we're on leave. We won't have all that much else to do."

"It's always politics," Ash said quietly. "It doesn't matter if we win the wars if we hamstring ourselves for the next one in the in-between."

"Enough with the doom and gloom talk," Ice sighed. "Get some shut-eye. We've got a whole system to go over in the next couple of weeks, and I don't want anyone complaining about how tired they are!"
"Yeah, 'Roller," Knife smirked. "I know it's not the park bench, but I'm sure your bunk should be comfortable enough."

"Asshole," Roller threw his pillow at the other pilot, only for her to catch it and tuck it underneath her head.

"Thanks! I needed the extra pillow," She laughed. "It helps with the back pain of carrying your weight all over the place."

"You're like children," Ice sighed and tuned them out in favor of drifting off to sleep. After all, they had a lot of work to do tomorrow.

---

"Look, I'm an archaeologist, and I can read and interpret the various Kobolian dialects. I got lucky with being able to figure out the name of the nation here," Dr. Russell told his old friend. "Despite what the media portrays us as, archaeologists spend a lot more time digging in the dirt and dating artifacts than we do learning new dead languages. We've got a linguist here specifically to figure out and then teach us how to read the languages we've got here. If you want help, you're going to have to deal with Dr. Maria Aminov."

"A civilian?" Frank asked.

"She served as a medic during the war," the doctor shook his head. "Most of the team I brought are veterans. The few who aren't are well aware of what I think about acting like a fool out here."

"Fine," Woullard sighed. "I'll go talk to this Maria."

"She's in the office over there," Russell pointed down the hall of the government building they'd taken over as their base of operations. "Be careful when you open the door, though; her organizational skills are worse than mine."

"I doubt that," the colonel chuckled. "But I'll take my chances."

Stepping out into the dull gray halls, Frank followed Russell's directions until he reached a door with a plaque that had "Dr. Aminov" written on it.

Taking a deep breath, the Colonel knocked on the door and waited for a response.

"Come in," a quiet voice greeted him.

Frank opened the door and didn't see anyone. If Dr. Aminov was present, she was hidden behind the stacks of books that were across the desk.

"My apologies, Colonel," the diminutive woman finally caught his eye. She was a dwarf. It wasn't that she was entirely hidden by the books around her, it was that she would have been hard to see at all.

"No, the fault lies with me," Woullard smiled. "Dr. Aminov, Russell pointed me in your direction to ask for assistance with translations. Command Senner has tasked me with figuring out how to speak to the computers of the Taurian Concordat, and while I can guess at some controls and systems. There comes a point at which I need to be able to read the language as well."

"Take a seat if you can find one, Colonel," Maria said after a moment. "Because the way to understand a language that isn't spoken anymore begins with the basics."

She pulled two books out of a stack and brought them over.

"You see, I actually need your help too. I'm stumbling over words that look the same but appear to be used in different contexts. Not to mention, I still haven't figured out how the various letters are spoken or sound. So, you help me figure out the context and how things work together, and as I figure out the translation, I'll help you with your operations."

"Do you have any idea how long it could take?" Woullard asked.

"Hopefully, we'll have a basic understanding of common words or phrases by the end of the year. It'd take longer, but we have so many examples of media here to pick from that we should be able to have something by then. I have my interns and assistants searching through the city for children's books. That should help greatly, too."

"Alright," Woullard sighed. "Tell me what to do."

Author's Note: The first chapter of the four chapter commission.

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 3

Three Months later…

"Major Lezzhov! We need you!!" Sergeant Volke staggered into the command center. "One of the Cylons is active!"

"They're what?!" Jorge Lezzhov grabbed the SMG he kept underneath his desk and slung it on his back before moving towards the noncom and staring him in the face. "Sergeant, you'd better explain right now."

"It's just sitting there, sir," Volke sucked in air. "Fitz got drunk while off duty the other night and pissed in the engine tank. Apparently, that was enough to give it some juice, because Terada hit the wrong button and the whole thing lit up! The whole compound's on high alert, and the Lieutenant is waiting for you."

"Take me to her," Lezzhov sighed, lowering the SMG before grabbing the sling and tossing it over his shoulder. "We'll see if I need to toss her in the brig or not."

Unfortunately, it wasn't a short walk. The building that they'd tossed all of the large Cylons they'd found into was across the city and as far away from the other research sites as possible. Besides that, navigating the dead city was hard enough even in the areas where there wasn't damage. Because they hadn't finished the translation, they couldn't read the signs. Instead, they had to navigate off of landmarks. Landmarks that were made harder to identify due to the damage that had been done.

Thankfully, they'd managed to acquire some vehicles from the Fleet HQ's motor pool when they'd returned to report to the colonies. Said vehicles that had been left in there had been so nice and expensive, it was a shame they weren't being used to their full potential.

"I want us there, yesterday, Sergeant!" Lezzhov jumped into the passenger seat of the convertible while grabbing his wireless. "Doctor Russell, we need an engineer to report at Cylon holding facility-" Lezzhov glanced at Volke, who mouthed the word 'gamma' to him. "Gamma, I repeat, Cylon holding facility Gamma. We may have a situation on our hands."

"Understood," The archaeologist replied through a bit of static, his voice hardened. "I'll start arming the researchers. I'll also have Rodeka get into a vehicle and be on his way to Gamma."

The Marines and researchers had set up three separate compounds. Alpha Compound was where all of the shattered and broken pieces of Cylons and any small arms they'd found were stored for later study. Beta was where they'd placed all of the tanks, APCs, and other military vehicles they'd come across. But Gamma, Gamma was where they'd put the 'intact' Cylons. Some of them were missing arms, others legs, or other parts. All of them were mostly intact, though.

"Copy that," Lezzhov said. "I'm en route now. Sergeant, step on it."

They moved through the deserted streets, avoiding the occasional crater from weapons, and moving through the shrubs and trees that had started to grow throughout. Eventually, they arrived at one of the few constructions that had originated in the Colonies. The set of prefabricated structures had been repurposed from a motor pool to contain and study the large Cylons. A fence around the compound, topped with razor wire, and a hastily constructed guard post were waiting for them when they arrived.

"Sergeant, Major," the Marine on duty checked them over before waving them through. "We've been waiting for you. Lieutenant Terada's in building 4."

"Sergeant, go collect Corporal Fitz. We're going to need to have a discussion after I'm done with the lieutenant," Lezzhov growled. "Private!" He called out to the Marine on Guard. "Send Rodeka to building four when he gets here."

"Yes, sir!" The Major stalked towards building 4 while the Sergeant went to collect the Corporal.

The few hundred yards between the buildings should have been enough time for the Major to calm down, to maybe have some sort of reasonable reaction to everything that happened. Hell, the drive should have been enough. Instead, all it had done was make him angrier. There were frakking active Cylons present here. In violation of the treaty! He hadn't fought and survived on the ground against the frakking death machines only to have them show up on some forgotten colony and kill his men again.

"Lieutenant!" He bellowed as soon as he reached the doors. "Front and Center!"

"Right here, sir!" The graying woman had a machine gun mounted on a mixture of sandbags and concrete, pointed it at the Cylon with the lights on, and pressed her shoulder into it. "It hasn't moved since it powered on." Her eyes didn't leave the ironsights of the machine gun.

"What happened?" Lezzhov shouldered his SMG and pointed it at the same target before moving next to her.
"I was doing routine checks a couple of hours ago," She replied. "Didn't know Fitz had decided to piss in the wrong place until this morning. Some sort of door was opened on one of the Cylons, and I wanted to check it out. As soon as I touched one of the controls, the whole thing lit up. I've had the self-destruct on standby since, and set up here."

"It's not done anything at all?" Lezzhov asked.

"No, sir," Terada exhaled, exhaustion creeping into her voice. "Not even a single centimeter since we got set up in defensive positions."

"Alright," Lezzhov sighed. "Go have a… Discussion with Corporal Fitz about what constitutes proper behavior in a secured facility when off duty, and then get some rest. I'll take over here until the geeks get here."

"Yes, sir," Terada pulled her helmet off and wiped some sweat off her face, slowly stepping away from the machine gun, a small device gripped in her left hand. "Self-destruct is tied to this detonator."

The Major accepted the detonator and allowed his SMG to dangle from its sling while he took over the Lieutenant's position. He fought against his instincts to pull the trigger. Everything within him whispered that killing one more Cylon would be worth the sacrifice. But he knew that without understanding how the Cylons had gotten this far and made such larger versions, it would be a waste of lives, resources, and time.

So, he would wait until the engineer arrived and had pulled everything he could from the corpse of these Cylons. Then, he would ensure they all burned.

–
–

24 hours later…

"Major, I think you and your Marines can stand down," Radeka said, the tanned and rotund man's usually jolly face was serious for once. "It's not a Cylon. I don't know what it is, given we still can't read the frakking language, but it's not a Cylon. There's not a battery in the entire place. From what I can tell, it's a self-sustaining fusion reaction that gained the fuel it needed from the liquid in Corporal Fitz's urine. It'd be a Godsdamned miracle if I knew how the reactor was made. But until we have the language translated, I'm stuck with guesswork and figuring things out from components."

"So, it's not a threat?" Lezzhov asked, standing up from the chair he'd been resting in.

"I didn't say that, Major," Radeka sighed, pulling out a handkerchief and mopping up sweat. "Mind if I take a seat?"

The major simply gestured for the engineer to get in the chair he'd just vacated and waited for him to continue.

"Anyway, I cannot say that the machine is not a threat; there are weapons on it, and a nuclear fusion reactor powers it. While it seems that the shielding on all of them is sufficient, if there are any leaks in it, then it'll render any Tylium nearby inert, and that doesn't include the possibilities of an overload causing it to detonate.

"Major, this is a scientific breakthrough that I would love to examine after we've completed half a dozen other projects that are taking priority. Unfortunately, for all that this would benefit the colonies, it'll have to wait."

"So, keep Tylium stores and drunk Marines away from it, but there's no threat of them activating and attacking us?" Lezzhov asked for clarification.

"They require a pilot from what I can tell," Radeka shrugged. "None of them will move a single meter without someone behind the wheel. Just keep your Marines out of this building entirely and you'll be fine."

"Thank you," Lezzhov sighed in relief. "I'll take the self-destruct offline and go back to a routine guard rotation. Thank you."

"It was my pleasure, Major," Radeka grinned. "I look forward to examining these machines in more detail after my other projects are completed."

---

"It's a frakking self-sustained fusion reactor, and we're all just sitting around, trying to act as if this is ordinary!" Terry Groves slammed his fist on the conference room table, the sound echoing in the concrete room. "We should be trying to get this technology back to the colonies immediately! It would change life as we know it back there!"

"Because we don't know how it works or how to safely transport it back, yet," Han Vilok propped his booted feet on the table and leaned back. "Is it an amazin' discovery, you betcha. Amazing discoveries don't make a bit o' difference if you blow yourself up trying to show it to folks."

"We're not touching the ones on the bipedal machines until after we've figured out how the ones that power the city work," Radeka stated. "I believe the technology is much the same in both cases, but as Vilok put it. We cannot move it back to the colonies until we are certain it is safe to do so. This is a miracle, yes. Yet, it is also inherently dangerous. We are playing with technology that we have only theorized would work. Things that are still experimental in nature at the University."

"They ain't left the testing phase back home," Vilok chuckled. "Their shielding keeps failing, and they can't sustain it for more than a few seconds."

"Isn't that why we need to get it back home?" Groves asked. "To try and develop this into weapons to fight the Cylons with?"
"One big frak up and we potentially strand ourselves here," Radeka sighed. "We have our plans, we're going to stick to them. First, we get power to the entire city, or at least the parts that we're inhabiting. Then we look at the civilian vehicles. Their internal combustion engines seem to follow similar lines of thought to our own, and that should help us when we move into the more complex things. Such as the fusion reactors."

"Fine," Graves sat down in the conference room again. "But I'm putting it in official writing that I think sticking to the plan is a mistake. We should all be focusing on this reactor. Not trying to figure out why they were fighting in the first place."

"Your objections is noted," Radeka said. "Now, please. Assist Vilok with the power."

---

Two weeks later…

"We have updates," Commander Senner looked around at the four captains of the other vessels that made up his small fleet. Captain Chia was the third in command, as her Nike, an Orion-class, was the most apt to take command if the Daedelus were to be destroyed. Captain Phillips, Captain Jasper, and Captain Mao were the captains of the pair of Alert-class ships and the lone Defender-class.

"Did we finally get a translation working?" Captain Chia asked, her glasses pushed up on her nose as she glanced down at the reports. "I know that we were hoping for some sort of progress there."

"No," Senner shook his head. "Regrettably, they've yet to have any breakthroughs in that area."

"What we have figured out is that Cylons were not responsible for what happened here," Colonel Woullard interjected. "After a little scare with one of the larger Cylons, Major Lezzhov had them examined by some of the engineers working with Dr. Russell. They're not Cylons at all."
"Then what are they?" Captain Phillips asked.

"And what happened to the colony then?" Jasper agreed. "If the Cylons aren't responsible for the destruction, then what happened?"

"They're still working on that part," Woullard replied. "Until we can piece together the language, we really are in the dark as to anything beyond context clues. But, my guess and that of Russell is that it was some sort of Civil War. It's the only thing that really makes sense. The ships all look alike, the small arms do as well, and despite there being multiple examples of other languages, there's one common one in use throughout the entirety of their military hardware."

"So, we're stuck then," Chia sighed. "We can't do anything with the information we have until we translate the language, and we don't want to touch the technology that might be the most useful because if we screw it up, we'll have the potential to mess with our stockpiles of Tylium."

"Commander," the soft voice of Captain Mao silenced the talk around the table. "Would it be possible for me to take the Respite to the Colonies and deliver some of these fusion reactors we found for further study and to make our case to Fleet HQ for us to obtain further assistance?"

"I don't see why not at some time in the future," Senner replied. "However, it would leave us vulnerable in ways I don't want to be at the moment."

"Weakening the fleet wouldn't be the wisest choice at the moment," Woullard agreed. "Sure, the Cylons weren't the ones that did this colony in. But they probably received the same signal we did. And this place ain't covered by the treaty."

"We'll work things out with Dr. Russell," Senner said after a few minutes of thinking about it more. "See if we can get him to take one of our officers back with the civilian ships. Fleet HQ's going to want a debriefing on what we've found."

"As if they'd give us anything else," Captain Phillips said what was on everyone's mind. "They want us out of the way because we're standing in the way of the 'progress' that they want."

"Still, is it not worth it to try?" Mao asked, his lean face settling into his usual tight-lipped stare. "After all, nothing comes to those who do not ask in the first place."

"We'll go through the officers we have available and see who has the best chances," Senner said after a moment. "But we're not going to plan as if we're going to get more support from the Fleet or the Civilians. Dr. Russell doesn't think that the University will contribute more to the program than they've already promised."

"Until and unless we figure out how to turn this place into a profitable success, we're on our own out here," Captain Chia muttered. "I'll have my Raptors start looking for Tylium in the systems around us that we didn't inspect on the way in. If we can find even one place with the mines for it, we can probably get a refinery ship sent out."

"Now, onto other matters," Commander Senner changed the subject. "Major Lezzhov's Marines have set up some prefabricated structures in an area that seems to be a promising location for shore leave. There's a lake with potable water, the temperature is mild, and there are edible plants in the area as well. I'll need you to go through your rosters and get rotations sorted for shore leave while still leaving your ship's crewed enough for any attacks…"

 

[Baldrick the Wise]

Trust the marines to drunkenly abuse ancient cursed artifacts in a way that furthers our scientific understanding.

 

[Marlow3]

Cool idea and your world building is great as usual mate.
Thanks.

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 4

Date: July 3, 2992
Location: Taurus, Taurian Concordat

"Thank you for being willing to meet with me, Protector," Count Aramis Dunn said, extending a hand towards Zarantha Calderon. "I'm pleased that our movement has been able to reach your ears."

"Count," Zarantha shook the hand firmly. "I'm not the sort to bandy about words, nor do I have the time to play games with words. You requested a military escort for the next colonization endeavor, rather than hiring mercenaries, as your group has done in the past. I want to know why."

"Because the next colony we're going to be attempting to settle was already a part of the Concordat before the 'Reunification War'," Aramis moved his hat off his briefcase and opened it before withdrawing a faded document. "According to the reports we found on the colony of Alamo, the Governor elected to utilize bioweapons and nukes to fend off the Star League. As a result, the entire colony was evacuated due to the hazardous conditions and forgotten. From what we've been able to dig up on the weapons used, the world should have been habitable again around a hundred years ago. But due to the records being damaged over the last few centuries.. Well, it's a miracle that we have anything left at all. The reason that we've decided to contact you directly is that we believe that there may be intact industrial facilities on the abandoned colony."

"Do you have any proof of this?" Zarantha asked.

"No, ma'am," Aramis shook his head. "Most of our colonies are based on previously done surveys, and our ability to manufacture orbital habitats. This is among the first of the abandoned worlds that we've even considered looking at."

"I can't promise anything at the moment," Zarantha picked up the folder and looked through the files that the Far Lookers had assembled for Aramis. "If I can hire mercenaries to fill the gaps, I may be able to free up a battalion of the Jaegers to act as an escort. There is one other thing as well," the Protector sighed. "This expedition and colony are going to need to bear fruit. Official military units being attached to this will make it a Concordat-sponsored mission instead of merely one supported by independent actors and private funding."

"We're aware of that, Protector," Aramis tapped the folder that rested on the desk. "But Alamo used to belong to the Concordat. It should be ours once again. A rallying cry for the Far Lookers and a success story to turn people away from seeking a war with the Federated Suns that would end in our destruction. I'm not asking for anything more than the escort. I have private funding that will ensure we can retake and rebuild the world, and any technology or cultural artifacts will be the priority for restoration."

"Give me a few weeks to arrange things," Zarantha sighed. "I will see what I can do, Mr. Dunn."

"That is all that I can ask for," Aramis smiled, standing and giving a small bow. "I cannot ask for any more of your time, Protector. I'll get in contact with your secretary once I have finalized the details for this expedition."

"I should have a response by then," Zarantha nodded. "Thank you for your consideration, Count. It is good to see that there are those among the Concordat who seek to restore it."

With their conversation concluded, Aramis left the office of the Protector and headed for the elevator. There was plenty of work to be done. The Far Lookers were counting on him to have everything ready, and now the Protector and Concordat were counting on him as well.

–
–
Date: August 10, 2992
Location: New Vandenburg, Taurian Concordat

The compound that Aramis Dunn had bought for the preparations of expeditions and colonization efforts stretched out for kilometers — Concrete and steel buildings painted in the orange and yellow of the Concordat.

On one corner, a trio of dropships waited. The ramps to their cargo bays were all down, and they were in the process of being loaded. An older Jumbo, a Mule, and a Union, the three 'egg-shaped' dropships of differing sizes were each carrying different things. The Union held the Industrialmechs and a lone defensive lance that the Far Lookers were responsible for providing.

The other two civilian cargo ships were being loaded with everything else. Their massive cargo bays held water purifiers, fusion engines, parts for prefabricated structures, seeds, and anything else that might be of use to a fledgling colony. A fourth dropship, only notable by the fact that it was an aerodyne instead of the spheroids that dotted the rest of the compound, was going to be carrying all of the colonists.

Engineers, construction workers, and the brave and desperate were always the first ones sent out with a new colony for the Far Lookers.

However, this time it was going to be a bit different. Instead of simply being a Concordat-sanctioned colonization effort, this was going to be a Concordat-funded and supported colony.

"One of these days you're going to have to explain to the rest of us how you managed to convince the Protector to free up a whole Battalion to assist with this colony," Port looked around the small office, noting that it was just as much of a mess as it usually was, if not more so. There were legal books scattered across the floor instead of on the bookshelves where they were supposed to go, paperwork littered the desk with hardly any rhyme or reason that would make sense to anyone but Aramis, and there were half-full coffee cups that surrounded the computer terminal.

"You really do need to start cleaning up around here," Athos said, looking around the office in disgust. "Even Dart isn't this bad, and he's a soldier!"

"It's not exactly high on my list of priorities," Aramis shook his head. "As it is, I didn't do much more than lay out the facts and ask for her help," Aramis moved things around his desk until he found whatever it was he was looking for. "The help does come with requirements, though. So, any investments you thought you might make back on this one will be a little more complicated than normal."

"I'm willing to take a loss on a colony as long as the Concordat sees the benefits," Athos shrugged. "It's not like we're losing out on funding due to one colony operating at a loss. You gotta think long-term, Aramis. If we're right and this is Alamo, then we'll make way more than our investment into the start of the colony."

"What Athos said," Port jerked his chin over at his other friend. "Now, I dunno about the rest of you, but I've had enough time spent talking here. Let's go help load up the dropships. I didn't get this forklift certification for nothing!"
–
–
Date: August 15, 2992

"What's so important about this colony over the others that y'all have sponsored?" Colonel McCarthy of the Concordat Jaegers asked. "A lot of my people aren't too happy to get pulled off the borders. I mean, we're happy to be defending y'all, but there's a lot of enemies out there, and only so many of us."

"For one thing, this isn't a colonization effort so much as a reclamation," Aramis began. "Alamo was a Taurian colony prior to the Terran Hegemony coming in and it getting lost to history. According to what little information we managed to dig up, Alamo wasn't just your regular colony. It was being developed by Taurus Warworks and Vandenburg Mechanized Industries prior to the world being invaded. We're hoping that there are some old Toro factories or something else that may be of use."

"Not the highest chance, but there is a chance," Athos said. "I mean, half the time we don't have anything but resource deposits or similar to go off of. Having an old colony world means we've got a lot more than we normally do. "

"Frankly, Colonel," Dart spoke up. "The last few colonies got hit by pirates as soon as we started mining or getting anything more than an initial basecamp set up. I'd really like to have more than our standard lance and a random mercenary company as backup."

"Well, it's a good thing you're going to have us along, then, isn't it?" McCarthy grinned. "Any pirates we encounter won't know what hit 'em. Anyways, I just wanted to touch base with y'all, make sure we all understood what was going on. Once everything's good on your end, my people will be ready to go."

"We'll have the last supplies and people here in a few weeks," Port relaxed. "After that, we'll head on out."

---

Location: Taurian Concordat Homeworld
Year: 1982C

"I've got it!" Dr. Maria Aminov grinned, holding a notebook up with rough translations on it and raising it in the air.

Scooting off the chair she'd been sitting in, the woman walked to the door and reached up for the handle. Her Dwarfism didn't affect her intellect, but it did make some things more difficult.

After a few seconds of struggling with the door, she got it open and ran out into the hallway and towards Russell's office.

"Russell," she gasped for air after opening his door. "I did it! I've got the translation!"

It took a bit for the leader of the civilian portion to process the information, so he simply stared at her for a minute.

"You've checked it against records?" Russell asked.

"No, just against some of the books I've got. It's a little rough," Maria admitted. "But it'll work."

"Let's check it against what I'm working on now, and then we'll make copies and distribute it to everyone," Russell helped Maria up beside him and pulled out the photographs of the latest artifacts he'd been cataloging.

"We're pretty sure that the government building started out as a prefabricated structure that was then expanded into a permanent building," the archeologist said, pointing at the photo. "There's a plaque we removed, I want to see if we're right."

Maria opened the notebook to the letter translation and began copying over both the foreign and familiar letters to a new page before doing the rough translation.

"We, the direct representatives of the Protector of the Taurian Concordat, and thus chosen and elected by the people therein. Having undertaken this colonization effort to provide opportunities and to further the cause of the Taurian Concordat and the Human Race, do hereby establish ownership and responsibility for the world hereby named Alamo on the second of July in the Year of our Lord two thousand two hundred, and thirteen."

"This isn't their only world," Russell exhaled slowly. "We need to bring this to Commander Senner's attention. No one abandons a colony like this forever. If we were them, we'd come back after having consolidated our forces and built up our strength again. This colony has been abandoned for at least a couple of hundred years."

"Well, they're obviously human based on the medical texts we've found," Maria offered. "Why not try negotiating with them if given the chance? From what I've heard Radeka complain about, they've got working systems that we've never dreamed of. Surely there's an opportunity here?"

"Just because they are human does not mean that they are allies," Russell sighed. "But I'll raise the point with Senner. It's possible that we can work something out if and when they do return."
–

–
Three Weeks later…

"Listen, Ike," Frank Woullard sipped at a glass of water in the Commander's office. "The translation helped, but it's going to take the engineers some time to make our systems compatible. If these people return or the Cylons attack, we're not going to have anything ready. Beyond our fleet."

"If this Taurian Concordat returns, negotiations are going to be our first resort," Ike replied. "I know that we fought a few sympathizers during the war. But I'd rather not start a war against another group of humans. We've enough issues with the Cylons."

"Alright," Frank shrugged. "I'll work with what I've got so far. We've got plenty of material to finish building out the defensive satellites that you asked me to work on. The problem we're encountering now is powering the weapons they were using. Their autocannons are comparable to ours, and the power requirements are easily satisfied by our Tylium generators. The problem is the other weapons. We're pretty sure that there's some sort of Direct Energy Weapons they were using."

"Makes sense if they cracked fusion reactors," Ike nodded. "Just use their autocannon for now."

"That's the plan," Frank leaned back. "I'm hesitant to put any of their fusion reactors next to our Tylium generators. We might get off a shot or two, but it's not worth having the shielding breached and rendering the Tylium inert."

"Right," Ike agreed. "Latest return message from Fleet HQ is that they're willing to send out a mining ship and refinery prefab. For once, we got exactly what we wanted. Because of the reserves found a few systems over, they're investing more resources into us."

"Any more ships to add to our fleet?" Frank asked; he'd been buried in computers and translations for the last few weeks.

"Just two," Ike shrugged. "A pair of Ranger-Class. It's not a ton of firepower, but it's at least something. Thankfully, we also have confirmation that it's a couple of old friends in charge, and they got to pick their crews."

"More old Bastards?" Frank grinned. "Who decided to come all the way out here?"

"Ortiz and Naraf," Ike said. "They've got the Draco and Fortuna."

"I'd heard those two were being decommissioned," Frank raised an eyebrow.

"My guess is that Fleet HQ is probably going to start diverting all of the ships they were going to decommission here," Ike poured another two glasses of water. "It saves them money in the breaking yards, and keeps the ships out of sight of the civilian government. At least until we've got enough development here to form a new colony. But, with the new information regarding the fact that this isn't the homeworld of the Taurian Concordat. Well, we'll just have to figure things out when we reach that point."

"Commander, Colonel," Lieutenant Lenz knocked on the door. "We've got DRADIS contacts on the edge of the system. No ID or confirmation, but they're not Cylons."

"Well, it looks like we reached that point sooner than expected," Frank chuckled. "Guess it's time to figure things out, Commander…"

 

[Baldrick the Wise]

First contact with super paranoid nuke enjoyers while having only tenuous command of their language, what could go wrong?

 

[HellTeddy]

This seems like an interesting story, liked & watched!

Wonder how the 13 colonies will take the sheer scale and size of the Inner Sphere.
Bet the Humanoid Cylons are going to freak out at how many humans there are.

 

[MarkWarrior]

Chapter 5

"Count, that's a lot of ships for what's supposed to be a dead world," Colonel McCarthy tucked a bit of chewing tobacco into his lip.

"I don't understand," Aramis furrowed his brow in though. "Even we didn't know Alamo was here until we'd rediscovered some of the older maps. How did another group get here before us?" Aramis protested.

"Worse, it looks like we might be facing something similar to the return of the Vandenburg White Wings," McCarthy spat into a small bottle he kept on him before sealing it up again. "Whlie some of them look like aerondyne dropships, the rest are significantly larger."

"You're telling me we just ran into Warships," Aramis tried to control his breathing.

"I've got the intelligence officers running simulations and potential forces now," McCarthy shrugged. "My theory's that it's a group from the Exodus."

"What, that they went the wrong way instead of heading through the Draconis Combine," Dart chuckled. "That's a wild one."

"We know that there are plenty of Army Groups that disappeared after and before the Exodus," the Colonel said. "What's to say this isn't one of them?"

"Their warships don't match anything we have on the Warbooks, sir!" A major stepped into the briefing room. "And some of their dropship analogues are moving this way."

"Well, we've got a few days to figure out how to deal with them then," McCarthy replied. "I want possible options ready by tomorrow, Major Cherenkov."

"I've got the S-2s working on it now, sir," Cherenkov replied. "We're not recommending that we shoot first."

"Obviously," McCarthy nodded. "Sure, we brought nukes, but we'd only be able to take out one warship, not three. Diplomacy's going to be the first resort here."

"Colonel," Port finally spoke up. "If I may take the lead on any discussions? I think we can come to an agreement that both sides will be able to tolerate if they don't shoot first and ask questions later."

"I'll see what I can do," the Colonel replied. "For now, I'm moving everyone to high alert. I also want your Invader hot charging. It might not make much of a difference, but it's possible that it'll be the difference between you civilians dying or living."

The colonel stood up to leave the briefing room when a flash of light hit his eyes and one of the massive warships appeared through the 'glass' of the jumpship.

Rushing to a terminal, the Colonel activated it and began barking orders.

"Launch fighters but do not open fire," His voice was firm. "I repeat, do not open fire. Commodore Peterson, I'm coming to the bridge. Start initiating communications with these people, I don't want an incident on our hands."

"Sir, we're receiving a transmission, but it's not in English," the Commodore replied. "I'm pulling our linguistic records now, and am getting our translator up to the bridge, but it sounds like Greek to me."

English might have become the 'universal' language among the stars, but there were enough planets that a whole host of languages had become common to learn and have available among the stars. Everything from Spanish, to Russian, Mandarin, Greek, etc. If it had been a major tongue spoken on the nations of Terra and used for trade at any point, someone was going to be speaking it among your crew.

"Hold off on any negotiations before Mr. Port and I arrive," McCarthy instructed. "I'm hoping we can figure this out without starting another war."

---

"Commander, the unknowns have launched fighters, but they're remaining in a holding pattern around their ships," Lieutenant Lenz reported. "What are your orders?"

"Start broadcasting," Senner replied. "I don't want to start a fight with any other humans if I can help it."

"I don't see how they're going to understand us, but copy that, sir," Lenz replied, picking up the handset and speaking into it.

"This is the Battlestar Daedelus of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, broadcasting on all frequencies to the vessels that have entered the system. We mean you no harm, please respond. I repeat-"

After a few moments of repeating the transmission, the Lieutenant turned back towards the Commander and Colonel with a look of frustration on his face before the handset crackled and a voice responded.

"This is Cornet Mattis of the TCN Jumpship Andromeda," the voice deeper than they'd expected, and the accent was similar to that of someone who'd come from one of the groups that made their homes in the Belts rather than someone from Caprica or one of the main colonies, but they could understand it. Somehow these people from another region of space could speak the language of the Colonies, even if Senner and his fleet could not speak that of the Taurians yet, they had a means to speak to each other.

"Commander," the Lieutenant handed the handset to Senner.

"I am Commander Senner, the leader of the current fleet present. If possible, I'd like to remain at peace with you. I understand that this colony once belonged to you, and would like to remain friendly. Though, I will not remove my people from it."

There was a pause, and Senner was certain that the junior officer who was doing the translation was conferring with his superior officers.

"We are willing to negotiate that once we are on the ground," the Cornet said. "We will pull our fighter escort back if your ship retreats out of weapons range while we transition to the planet."

"Ike, this could be a trap," Frank offered one last word of caution, but his expression was just as hopeful as Senner felt inside.

"If it is a trap, then it's one I'm willing to spring," Senner replied before moving his hand off the mouthpiece of the handset. "Acknowledged, Andromeda, we'll moe to a safe distance and allow your people to carry on through the system to the planet."

"Pull our Vipers and Raptors back, but leave the other ships in defensive positions," Senner ordered. "Given most of their ships are small, I believe that we can keep an eye on them without too much danger to the Daedelus. I'm going to choose to trust that these people want less of a fight than we do."

–
–

"Colonel, they're willing to allow us to land our dropships for the discussion," Cornet Mattis said.

"I wish we had whatever it was that allowed them to jump in system," McCarthy muttered. "Would shave off a lot of time and effort."

"It's a three day transit at one gravity, Colonel," Commodore Peterson explained. "Not the craziest one I've ever seen."

"Alright, Port," McCarthy turned to one of the four founders of the movement. "Get together what staff you need and transfer them to my Union. We'll take one dropship down, in the event that this goes south, a three day transit should allow a mixture of hot-charging and the solar sails to get enough power for the K-F drive. Commodore, if things go poorly, and I pray that they don't, then you take the jumpships and hightail it back to the Concordat."

"You sure about this, Roger? If things go sideways, I can't get you out."

"I know," the Colonel replied. "Let's hope that we don't have to immediately resort to violence this time around."

---

Date: October 24, 2992

Location: Alamo, Former Taurian Concordat Colony

"I'm surprised the city's as intact as it is," Port said as he looked at the remnants of the spaceport around them. "There's some plant growth starting to creep in, but aside from that, it's in a much better state than we could have predicted."

"A few hundred years'll change just about anything," McCarthy shrugged, his large frame filling out his uniform fully. "Now, we can talk about how intact the colony is after we're done talking to the current inhabitants."

"Right," The Far Looker replied. "Science and discovery after we're done with diplomacy."

The party from the Concordat didn't have to wait long before some ground cars and an APC rolled through the somewhat workable streets. A lone ASF/VTOL hybrid made landfall on a nearby platform and discharging half a dozen people who joined the other people on the ground.

The newcomers were wearing familiar but strange clothing, Colonel McCarthy noted. From the VTOL analogue, there were obvious military uniforms, probably their Navy branch if the uniforms worn by the people on the ground were any indication of things.

"Colonel, please tell me I don't have to translate for all of these people," Cornet Mattis looked a bit nervous.

"I certainly hope not," McCarthy chuckled. "It'll be hard enough talking to someone one at a time, I don't plan on talking to the whole crowd."

Thankfully, as the two groups neared eachother, only two or three of them stepped out of the crowd to speak.

Of course, it seemed that in the excitement, one of them had forgotten that they only had the one person translating for now, because the pair who were in charge. Civilian and Military from the looks of things, began speaking at the same time.

Colonel McCarthy hid his smile in favor of gesturing towards Cornet Mattis again. It seemed that even people who they hadn't encountered before were still human. Even down to being unable to allow someone to speak before you.

"Gentlemen, please. I can only translate for one person at a time," Cornet Mattis said in Greek and then repeated it in English for the benefit of Port and the rest of the Taurians.

"You speak our language well," the civilian gave a small bow. "I would know the name of our translator as well as that of those who we are speaking to."

"Colonel," Mattis turned to McCarthy. "They want to know our names."

"Well, I'm Colonel McCarthy of the Taurian Defense Force," the Colonel waited for Mattis to repeat his words to the other group. "This is Mister Port, a civilian member of a group known as the Far Lookers. He and his team are among those responsible for establishment of a reclamation effort on Alamo. One of our many lost colonies."

McCarthy waited patiently for Mattis to think about phrasing things appropriately. He was sure that these people weren't truly speaking Greek as they knew it. There were many languages that had changed wildly in Humanity's conquest of the stars. As long as there was something to connect back to the root tongue though, it was usually enough to get the message across.

A few seconds later, the Cornet had communicated as closely to what McCarthy had said as possible and was waiting for a response.

"I am Doctor Russell. I represent the civilian portion of the research outpost the Colonies of Kobol have established here. Beside me are Commander Senner and Colonel Woullard, they are the commanding officers of the military forces we have guarding the system."

"Colonies of Kobol?" Port asked after it had been relayed through Mattis before shaking his head. "Is there somewhere we can sit down to hold these discussions? I have a feeling that there's a lot more to talk about than simply establishing who is able to keep the planet."

"We have a warehouse nearby to store goods. There's a room there we could utilize." Dr. Russell replied. "If you'll simply follow me?"

"Might as well," Port glanced at the stone face of Colonel McCarthy. "What do you think, Colonel?"

"It's better than sitting out here in the cold," McCarthy shrugged. "I don't recall the reports saying that it was a constant fifteen degrees."

"It's likely that there was some form of nuclear winter due to ash thrown up from strikes that hit the ground," Port explained. "It's probably taken this long for growth to come back. I give it another few hundred years before the temperature evens out to a more moderate degree."

"Sirs, they're asking for us to step into this building," Mattis informed them. "They're going to leave everyone else behind while we hold the rest of the discussions inside a room in this warehouse."

"Let's see who these people really are, shall we?" McCarthy stepped into the building, closely followed by everyone else.

 

[Baldrick the Wise]

It's a good thing that Colonies insignia are nothing like Star League or Federated Suns, otherwise Taurians might have found themselves unable to overcome the nuclear itch.

No matter how bright the room is, the discussion will be illuminating. I presume the history of the Colonies will turn out to be slightly wrong regarding their origins.