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PostPosted: Thu Feb 04, 2010 4:34 pm 
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Day 265
Cylon Basestar
29 light-years from Oasis...



Centurion Commander C-25 was one of the last remaining symbols of the old Cylon Empire that still remained active within the new, organic nexus that had been established in the 40 years since the first war ended. C-25, as well as a select few other 0005 model Centurions that had proved themselves useful to the new nexus had remained active through the years.

Leading several highly efficient campaigns against the humans in the First War, C-25 had proven to be an effective, experienced commander, something the new, non-sentient Centurion models could not be. He remained to serve the whole of the Cylon, prepared to deploy his troops and finish the job he and his people had started so many years ago.

Even in the maintenance levels of the Basestar, the un-pressurized bowels of the massive vessel where biological models rarely braved, the Centurion's gold-plated armor showed proudly, a testament to his efficiency as a killing machine despite his age.

Exiting the ascender, C-25 began to make his way to report to central command. The warrior passed by the Hybrid interface room and for reasons he could not find in any code in his programming, slowed in his movements and began recording the nonsense that was emanating from that room.

"... us all a sea of matter, washed unto this cosmic beach. The tide of time reclaims us, back unto the breach. All of this has happened before. All of this...."

"You! Bullet-head!"

C-25 turned towards the derogatory comment to see a Cavil -unable to distinguish them- approaching him. "Have you anything interesting to report, or are you just milling about, wasting mass and the like on my baseship?"

"No Colonial contacts or signals intercepted. Sensors re-configured to account for minor stellar interference to 100% efficiency. Centurion DataStream connections re-configured to optimize. 100% efficiency. Optical display units-"

"Oh great! You've proven to be an exemplary TV repair-bot!" Cavil shot back sarcastically. This was lost on C-25. "Hey! I've got an excellent idea! Why don't you take that antique that's rusting in the hanger and go search all of space for the FRAKKING HUMANS?! Or should I do it myself?"

C-25 blankly scanned his biological comrade for the slightest of seconds to see if the Hybrid was still speaking. Finding only Cavil's angry breathing on audio scanners, he responded:

"By your command."

With that, the Centurion turned on its axis, and marched out of Cavil's hate-filled sight. The old man turned to look in on the now-silent Hybrid with equal disgust. "Frakkin' defective machines."


Moments later, the flying-wing Raider pushed itself out of the Basestar's massive hanger, immediately followed by a trio of its self-controlled siblings, who dove from the ship's massive outriggers in perfect unison. They rolled into a graceful dive, forming up on the leader's tail like a hunter's loyal dogs.

They jumped away and the hunt began.

_________________
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PostPosted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 11:36 pm 
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Day 265
1455 hrs CUT
Merchant Camp


The whine of the Illustrious’ engines mixed with the sounds of the merchant camp, the wind as it rustled through the trees, the crackle of the flames as they consumed the remnants of several centurions, and the sounds of birds which were finally returning after the fireworks were over.

Standing on the rear ramp Crenna directed several medics who were carrying Barkley’s patient to a gurney attached in the troop compartment. As they set down the backboard down on the gurney they locked it in, securing the patient to the ship.

Barkley was standing inside, waiting for the medics to load the unconscious man.

On another gurney, next to Barkley, Williams sat with his injured leg propped up on a makeshift elevation device. “You colonials sure know how to throw a party,” Williams said, grinning.

Barkley chuckled. “And you sir, are one hell of a shot.” He watched as the medics secured the last latches on the unconscious patient’s gurney. He turned back to Williams. “Now we just need to work on your ability to avoid flying metal.”

Williams grimaced at a jolt of pain and coughed a bit, “Seems that I’m getting a tad bit slower these days, in my youth that wouldn’t have been an issue.”

“That, my friend, I have absolutely no doubt. You could definitely teach our marines a thing or two.”

“Is that an offer?”

Barkley could tell there was something to what Williams had asked. He regarded the older man. “You mean you want to come with us?”

Williams looked out the ramp at the group of people standing there. “We all do. One of the reasons we spend so much time at the merchant camp is for the chance to hitch a ride up to the fleet.”

“What about your life here?”

Williams smiled, a sarcastic twist to one side. “Life? The only life we have here is what we’re allowed to make of it. We try to forge ahead and expand our lives but the Heptumvirate won’t let us.”

Barkley stood there, unmoving, waiting for Williams to continue.

“My guess is they want to continue for things to stay as they are, with no chance of us someday moving forward.” He pointed towards the direction of the Sextant. “There’s no telling how long or even if we’ll ever go to the stars again.

It was a statement Barkley wasn’t really expecting to hear. After all the things the Admiral told the Heptumvirate there were still those who seemed to be willing to risk their lives for perceived freedom. “I’m not certain our life is better, busier perhaps, but not better.”

“I would rather die a free man than exist as a so called citizen of Oasis. Being free here young man is freedom in name only.”

He took it all in and thought about it for a few minutes. “Well,” Barkley began. “Your injuries would be best healed with the medical facilities we have aboard Libra. Besides I don’t like having to travel from orbit to planetside every time I want to check in on my patients.” Grinning, Barkley clapped the elder man on the shoulder. He turned and walked towards Zayne and Asanus who were standing at the bottom of the ramp.


“This is getting harder and harder every time Marc,” Asanus said as he watched a marine squad fan out towards the tree line. The squad began to crouch in the tall grass, waiting for a possible return of cylons.

Zayne nodded. He turned his head and looked at the group of people huddled near the end of the ramp. Zayne watched as several marines began escorting them up the ramp. He watched as Crenna guided them to their seats, the look of genuine compassion was plainly visible on his face.

Asanus wiped the sweat that had collected on his forehead with a gloved hand. He exhaled slowly, bringing his heart rate down from the adrenalin rush earlier. "Where are we taking everyone?”

“It seems these people want to go with us,” Barkley said as he approached the two men.

Zayne regarded his friend. “How are our injured patients doing?”

“Stable, the toaster did a real number on the first victim, beat him half to death. Williams on the other hand is doing fine. The hole in his leg will be healed soon.”

“Good,” Zayne replied. “For once the frakking toasters didn’t kill anyone here.”

“Yeah,” Asanus replied. He looked over at the small girl whom he had winked at earlier. He could see the fear on her face as she tightly clutched at her mother’s skirt. “But they sure as shit frakked up everyone’s lives.”

Barkley placed a hand on Asanus’ shoulder. No words were exchanged, there was no need.

Just as the little girl’s turn came to move up the ramp and into Illustrious she broke away from her mother and ran over to the group of men. As she reached them she reached up for Asanus.

He reached down and gently lifted her up. “And what do I owe this honor for little lady,” he asked.

She didn’t say a word but instead buried her head into his shoulder and hugged him tightly. Tears began flowing from the girl’s eyes and Asanus could feel her shake.

He let his rifle slowly drop to his side, the sling catching it long before it hit the ground. He held the little girl tightly and let her cry, doing nothing more than hold her and try to make her feel safe. As he did he felt the tears well up in his eyes.

Barkley watched, speechless. In the midst of all of the violence and killing he was witness to something that began to stir the same emotions in him. He wiped a small tear from his eye and turned his attention toward the people boarding Illustrious.

Asanus felt a gentle hand touch his and he opened his eyes to see the child’s mother standing there.

She smiled weakly and let her hand linger on his for a moment. “I’m sorry, she got away from me.”

Asanus shook his head. “Don’t be,” he whispered. “I can’t think of anything I would rather be doing right now.” After a few more moments he gave the little girl a gentle squeeze and slowly handed her back to her mother. “Now you go with your mommy little lady,” he said, brushing the hair out of her eyes. “Everything will be alright.”

The little girl wiped her eyes and smiled. Then she did her best imitation of a wink.

The child’s mother looked at Asanus and smiled again. “Thank you for all you and your friends have done for us sir. I thought it was all over.”

“Please,” Asanus replied. “Call me Mike, and you are very welcome. I wish we could have been here sooner.”

“You were here and that’s all that matters…Mike. I'm Ashley, and this little girl is Hailey,” she said as she hugged her daughter tightly. She turned and walked slowly towards the ramp, the little girl held tightly in her arms. As she reached the bottom she turned and looked back. She smiled meekly and held the gaze for a few more moments. She then disappeared up the ramp.

“Looks like everybody is aboard, let’s get ready to go,” Zayne finally said.

“Yeah,” Asanus replied, almost in a whisper, his gaze still on the space once occupied by the young woman and her daughter. “Let’s get the frak out of here.”

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Last edited by hazend on Fri Mar 18, 2011 9:22 am, edited 2 times in total.

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PostPosted: Mon Feb 08, 2010 8:35 pm 
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Camp Blue Sky
Day 265


Quote:
"Cover!" Morgan yelled as he bailed from the truck. He landed, then went prone, peering under the truck to take a quick visual check of the Cylon line. Then he rolled sideways, moving into cover behind the truck's rear wheel.

S'Bec didn't follow.


Josef Morgan crouched at the rear wheel of the truck, then practically leaped to the cover of the front wheel, crossing the nearly dozen feet in a couple of steps. He expected a hail of gunfire aimed at his exposed feet, but instead the Cylons took just two pinpoint shots that barely missed him. Once at the front wheel, he turned and reached overhead, grasping the side mirror mounting. The driver's door was latched shut, having rebounded after his hasty exit. With a heave, he pulled himself onto the side board and peered into the cab through the open window.

S'Bec lay slumped in the seat, his right armed hooked over the door where he'd been holding his rifle out the window. A dark stain marked his fatigues across his abdomen, and Morgan could see daylight through the truck door where the Cylon round had penetrated it. Then he heard the zzzing of a Cylon bullet as it passed altogether too close by his head, then the ping of another as it struck the truck cab near his left hand. Morgan dropped, spinning off the side board to the ground below, and the cover of the truck's front tire.

Readying his rifle, Morgan peered around the nose of the truck, attempting to assess the distance to Harris' position and to the Cylon aggressors. There was a low-pitched bang as a Cylon round blew out the truck's right front tire, and the truck shifted violently as Morgan pressed against it. The steel wheel dug into the dirt, and the right front bumper was now firmly on the ground, blocking any further Cylon shots at Morgan's feet. He crept to the front of the truck, straining to see the enemy deployments, and Harris.

As he called the sergeant, informing her he was moving up to her position, he heard Major Dedrick's voice over the combat net: "All personnel, this is Major David Dedrick, Libra MarDet XO. Go to position blackout immediately. Repeat, go to position blackout immediately. Shut down your personal locators - the Cylons have hacked the channel." Morgan didn't have full gear, but he did have his locator, so he quickly thumbed it off and then listened as the faint hiss of the combat net went silent.

To the side of the truck, Morgan low-crawled to a depression that led off to the west. It wasn't much, just deep enough to screen his movements from the Cylons. With his rifle slung over his back, he continued on knees and elbows toward Harris' position, some twenty meters away. She had taken cover behind a huge stone, likely dropped there eons ago by a retreating glacier. Now it blended into this forest-edge meadow, it's mass nearly hidden in places by earth piled against it, while vines and moss threatened to conquer the remainder of its exposed bulk. At one point, an erosion-carved ledge now served as an observation point; a Spectre lay prone near the rock's upper edge, covered by a camoflage net and bits of brush clipped from his surroundings. Morgan could also make out a row of bodies, lined up behind the largest section of the ancient stone. Ra'iten, Morgan whispered, when he saw their number.

Moments later he rose from his crawl, finishing the last few meters at a crouching run. Harris met him, immediately giving him a sitrep. "Cylons have spread out along the treeline," she said, gesturing toward the north and west. "They bunching up, left of center... looks like a push toward our center, right through where PG76 and the two Heavies are parked. It could get hairy for the Marines and civvies on those ships."

Morgan shook his head, moving toward the left end of the rock. Raising his field glasses, he cautiously peered toward the treeline, around the rock to his right. Harris hunched up beside him, close enough to hear him over the nearby chatter of Spectre weapons. "It's a push, you're right, and toward those liners for certain. They're not coming for us, though, they're gonna try to take one of the ships."

At that moment, Morgan saw Harris' eyes go wide, focused on something in the distance beyond him. She started bringing her rifle up, her mouth forming the word "Down! as she did. Then he saw as a Cylon round hit her chest armor, and then another, spraying bits of cloth, Kevlar, and defensive plating from the impact site. The force of the strikes knocked Harris backward, spinning as she went. As Morgan rose to go to her, he felt as though a truck struck him between the shoulder blades, and he pitched forward to land beside her in the grass. Stunned, Morgan watched with strange detachment as Harris rolled over, then brought her rifle to bear on a target he could not see, yelling commands in her native tongue as she did. Another Spectre appeared nearby them, his SAW already blazing. Morgan covered his ears and rolled the opposite way, then retrieved his rifle and struggled upright, to crouch beside the moss-slick stone. By the time he brought his rifle to bear, Harris and the squad gunner had reduced the ambushing Cylons to metal scrap.

Morgan nodded his thanks to the gunner, as Harris moved to press her back against the stone beside him. "Kaashi," she cursed. "Son of a frakkin' bitch chrome-ass motherfrakkers!" She looked again, leaning out to see if any more Cylons were flanking their position. Morgan did a head-check with her, but neither saw any movement. "Suyain," she went on, a bit more calmly, "They're tearing us up like this, all along the line. And if you're right about the ships, they won't be coming near enough for us to fully engage them." She shook her head, her eyes dancing from one place to another as she thought quickly through their options. She stopped, meeting Morgan's eyes again. "If we press forward, intercept them at the ships, we'll be torn to shreds. We'll go, on your orders, but we need some frakkin' air support..." Harris tapped her earpiece, "and the combat net is still down."

Morgan held Harris' eyes for a moment, thinking. Then with a jerk of his head he motioned her to follow him, and he trotted off down the length of the huge rock that was their refuge. Now, close to the row of bodies lying face down in the grass, Morgan approached one of the Fleet medics attached to the Spectres where he was treating an Oasian CivDef officer. Unceremoniously, Morgan grabbed the man's handheld wireless, asking "Does this work?"

The Oasian answered immediately. "No, Sir. I can receive, but transmit's out. It's just not built for this kinda shit," he said with an apologetic look. Then he added, "The Commander directed us to the emergency channel, and ordered wireless silence."

With a disgusted look, Morgan dropped the wireless into the man's lap, roughly. Then he spotted another device clipped to the officer's belt. He grabbed it and held it before the man's face. "What about this?" Morgan asked angrily.

"Well, yeah, I suppose... if the civilians aren't clogging the circuits," the CivDef officer answered helplessly.

"Call your commander, then," Morgan ordered. "Tell him to contact Major Duncan, and relay this information..." Morgan paused as the man dialed the cell phone, then continued, "Repeat exactly what I say. Exactly!"

Moments later, with the call for air support put in, Morgan relieved one of the dead of their weapon, then climbed the rear face of the stone bulwark to a position from which he could fire. Then he opened up, the growl of the SAW in perfect tune with his anger, as he poured a lethal stream of lead outward into the Cylon line.

__________
Edit History: 2/9/10 Corrected word usage


Last edited by RangerLord on Tue Feb 09, 2010 1:02 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Mon Feb 08, 2010 10:14 pm 
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Oasis - Temple of Gaea
Day 265

(Eagle and JDCTexas)

"Sir, Cylons are approaching from the front!" Private Eric Jones shouted. "Doors are barricaded... maybe that will hold them off."

"They should, private. For a while, at least," a middle-aged man in a tight-fitting uniform replied; Trey Beaumont was captain in the Sextant Guard, men and women, mostly ranchers and farmers, who trained once a month with regular Civil Defense personnel and provided assistance when needed - often in connection with natural disasters or dragon attacks. He squinted - the bright afternoon sun streaming through the colored-glass windows cast strange, deep shadows inside the building where they'd taken refuge. He hoped the barricade would hold, but he had no illusions it would. He'd worked around cylons all his life: he knew how strong they were - he'd seen them clear wide swaths in the forest in mere minutes.

He looked around at his charges inside the Temple of Gaea: about two dozen children cowered behind an ornate altar at the dais, together with their teachers and a few elderly women who had been praying at the temple when hell had broken loose. It was up to the five of them - Jones, Clayton, Huang, Russell and himself - to defend them. They were out-numbered and out-gunned...

A sudden crash of broken glass broke the monotonous din of the cylons' relentless bullets.

"Quick! Block the windows! They're trying to come in! Jones! Take the women and children to the Shepherd's room!"

Trey was not a religious man. But as they piled what few pews were left against the now gaping holes, he prayed for somebody, anybody, to come to their aid.

Private Jones was about to rush over and block the the window with a small, light-weight pew when he saw the glint of silver and a flash of a red light. He dove for what little cover there was as the Cylon opened fire again. "They're trying to come through the window!"

Beaumont dashed behind a column and trained his old-fashioned hunting rifle on the broken window. "Huang! Russell! Take the children! We'll hold 'em off as long as we can!"

He couldn't afford to look back, but the quick shuffle of feet reassured him that his orders were being followed. A distraction. Huang and Russell needed time if they were to have any hope of success escorting the women and children out of this death trap. Time. Trey knew his own, and that of his remaining men, was very short; there was no way they could hold their own against the cylons. But if they could at least delay the inevitable...

His eyes darted around and lighted on what looked like carafes of oil and wine on a table by the dais. Probably used in the services, crossed his mind. Then an idea.

As Russell and Huang shepherded the terrified children out of the vast nave, Beaumont ran to the dais and grabbed the beautifully carved glass bottles, then ran back to Jones and Clayton.

"I like your thinking." Eric Jones said. "Maybe it will buy us some time..."

Another round of bullets came in through the window. This time, it was aimed at the few lights that were on in the room. The sanctuary became darker with every shot. Soon, the sanctuary was only lit with what light came through the windows.

Then, the men could see the first Cylon trying to enter through the shot out window.

Beaumont lit the fuse he'd hastily inserted in the first carafe and, making sure it was burning, threw it at the jumble of pews that partially blocked the open window. He held his breath as it shattered against the piled benches...

It burst into flames with a satisfying whooosh. The dry wood and heavily cushioned seats fed the hungry fire and soon the area was thick with smoke.

Eric Jones watched the flames and the lead Cylons still trying to get in. Is there anything that can stop these things?

Then, the Cylon saw Private Jones. As it aimed at the man, the 0005's 'eye' shattered into several pieces. Gunshots could be heard outside... it sounded like all hell had broken loose right outside the temple door.

"What the frak...?" For a split second, Beaumont stared at the crumpling cylon, uncomprehending. But his training - and the will to survive - kicked in. "Don't let them get in! Aim at their 'eye'! Help's on the way!"

Eric Jones noticed another Cylon trying to get into the sanctuary. He leveled his rifle and followed orders. He placed two rounds into the eye section of the Cylon. A moment later, he could see another hole emerge in the head of the machine. It appeared to have come from behind the Cylon.

The walls echoed with renewed shooting as the three men inside repulsed the cylon attack with the help of their unknown benefactors.

After few moments it was over, and there was only the sound of the flames consuming the pews... the gun fire had ceased. Another figure could be seen in the window but it was apparent that it was not a Cylon. He carried a rifle and was in armor.

"Anyone in there?" the person asked.

"Trey Beaumont, Chad Clayton and Eric Jones at your service," a jovial, if slightly hoarse voice replied from within. "Whoever you are, we are in your debt."

"The name is Tom... Cpl. Tom Cody of the Colonial Marines. We've got the area secure for you to get out."

"Only one?" Beaumont whistled, bemused. "Shit, from the amount of lead you put into those cylons, I thought there were a score of soldiers out here!" He sobered as he shook the Colonial's hand. "Two of my men took about two dozen women and children out of here when the cylons broke in. They can't be far. We have to go help them. If the cylons find them..."

"There's six of us out there actually... I just took aim at the ones trying to get in." Tom said. "Let's get all of you out of here before this place goes up.

"Ok," Beaumont grinned tiredly as he shouldered his trusty old rifle. "Jones, Clayton, fall in with the corporal. I've a pretty good idea of the route Huang and Russell must've taken..."

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PostPosted: Mon Feb 08, 2010 10:24 pm 
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Oasis City, CivDef HQ
Day 265

In the dispatch room, Commander Joe McCloud paced as he waited for sounds that the Colonial Marine combat communications net was back online. He knew it had only been a couple minutes, but it seemed like hours.

Sergeant Amanda Bigsby came in from the front desk, the wireless handset of the desk phone to her ear. “Hold on,” she said, then held it out to McCloud. “A call for you, Commander.”

Joe stared at her. “Amanda, we’re in the middle of—,” he began, but stopped himself, seeing her expression.

“It’s Lieutenant Corey Tasker, sir,” she said woodenly. “He’s at Camp Blue Sky.”

Blinking, Joe took the handset from her. “McCloud,” he snapped into it.

“Commander,” Tasker sounded as if he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was doing, “I have information that you need to relay to Major Duncan. We need air support…”

McCloud whirled, snatching the pencil that Harry had stuck behind his ear, scribbling as he listened. “Got it, Tasker,” he said, cutting the connection unceremoniously.

“What the frak--,” Harry started to ask, but McCloud cut him off.

“Amanda, what’s Jim Cote’s cell phone number?” the Commander demanded.

“Ahhh… I’ll look it up,” she stammered.

“I need it RFN!" his words propelled her at a trot back to the front desk.

"Cell phones,” McCloud muttered to himself, snatching the pad off Harry's station and following her. “Frakking cell phones…”

_________________
Director of National Intelligence James R. Clapper, about budget cuts for the US’s intelligence agencies: "We're not going to do more with less and all these other clichés. . . . We will just simply have less capability."


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PostPosted: Tue Feb 09, 2010 8:51 am 
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Oasis – forested area between merchant’s camp and Camp Blue Sky
Day 265

Major Duncan stepped out of the Raptor, raising his arm up and circling it in the air, signaling his squad to assemble. They came in from where they’d hidden in the forest, S’Jahar bringing up the rear with his long sniper’s rifle cradled against his chest.

“We’re going to--,” Duncan began, but stopped, frowning as one of the CivDef members of his small group clapped a hand to his hip.

Cote had silenced his phone, but left it on vibrate from habit. He was startled when it went off, and wincing under Duncan’s glare, glanced at the screen. “Sir,” he said, “it’s CivDef HQ…”

At Duncan’s curt nod, he answered it; then he held it out to Duncan. “It’s for you, sir,” Cote said evenly.

Duncan accepted it as if getting personal phone calls on the battlefield was commonplace. “Duncan,” he snapped into it. He listened for a short moment, nodding, and said, “Got it. Thanks, Joe.” He tossed the phone back to Cote and leapt up into the Raptor.

In moments, the Raptor’s ECO had patched him into the Libra’s CAP channel. “This is Major Scott Duncan, Oasis ground commander,” he said, “requesting air support.”

[“Duncan, Rudnik copies. I'm burnin' atmo towards your position in thirty seconds. Relay target location before ionization blackout,] came the distorted but level voice of the CAG.

Calmly, Duncan told Rudnik the coordinates, then repeated them, and asked, “What’s your ETA, Captain?”

There was a brief pause as the pilot checked his angle of attack and current velocity. [“ETA is six minutes, I'm burnin' this entry hard. Clear that zone and get ready for a show,] he replied, the atmospheric pressure on the Viper's hull already beginning to drown out his voice.

“Good hunting, Rudnik. Duncan out,” the Major said. He went to the door of the Raptor and said to Cote, “Do you know a guy named Tasker?”

Cote nodded, puzzled.

“Get on the phone and tell him his air support will be there in six minutes.”

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PostPosted: Fri Feb 12, 2010 2:04 am 
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Starliner Astral Dawn
On the surface at Camp Blue Sky
Day 265



Lukas Berzai lay on his belly on the hull of the Astral Dawn, working his way toward another mysterious outcropping of equipment. As he crossed the expanse of barren metal, his mind dredged up memories of crawling across sand and stone, old memories of games played with childhood friends, and of combat operations conducted with the Disavowed. I am the sidewinder, he thought, my passage across the dunes swift, silent and deadly beautiful.

As he reached his goal, he rolled over and then sat up, screened from Cylon eyes by the device which jutted out from the Dawn's hull. A hodgepodge of boxes, tubes and branching antenna, the sand-born warrior had no clue as to its purpose. He half expected some of the upright parts to be adorned with hats, given their shape.

His mind tarried for only a moment on such thoughts; he had a pressing purpose here, and he set about his business without delay. Picking out the landmarks which identified where he had dropped his most recent targets, Berzai peered through the scope of his sniper rifle, seeking his next victim. It took only seconds to find the Cylons once more.

As Berzai slowed his breathing, he scanned the exposed surface of his new target. In the short time he'd been shooting at these antiquated military robots, he had learned a great deal about taking them down quickly. The one he now surveyed became an immediate priority target when he found it - the enlarged 'shell' of its back and the rod-like antenna rising from behind its shoulder marked it as part of the Cylon communications network. It was, perhaps, even responsible for the comms blackout called by Major Dedrick.

The unit was turned sideways to him, and he settled his crosshairs onto its temple. He could see only one side of the optical scanner, and though he'd had success in killing the 0005's with hits there, and on the side of the head as well, he dropped his sights to the neck joint, and prepared to fire.

Then a glint of metal, away from his target, drew his attention. He let out his breath, warm air passing across partly pursed lips, and shifted his rifle slightly to take in the new arrival. Though he knew next to nothing of the Cylons' rank structure, he was certain this was a sniper's prize; a Cylon officer.

The robot faced roughly in Berzai's direction, and he centered his scope on its head, putting the crosshairs on the track its red eye followed back and forth. He let his breath out, feeling his heartbeat, sensing the pressure of the trigger against his finger. He watched his target, momentarily motionless, its gold armor glinting in the Oasian sun.

On the surface of the Astral Dawn, removed from the tumult of the battle below, it was almost quiet. Still, the sounds of combat did intrude - the whip-crack of the Cylon guns, the staccato chatter of Spectre rifles, the low steady growl of a squad weapon. Somewhere, lost among the other noises, a particular Cylon rifle sounded, and seconds later Lukas Berzai's helmet was pierced, right through the empty cigarette pack he kept stuffed into the netting.

The gold-armored Cylon continued, unaware that it had been the young Spectre's target. The killing shot did not come.


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PostPosted: Sun Feb 14, 2010 10:58 pm 
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When the Cylon shot struck his helmet, Berzai reacted with surprise, looking away from his scope to the antenna structure where he'd hung the helmet moments before. He knew the tin cans were zeroing in on him, and he had figured the small chance of a diversion was better than none.

With a sharp metallic crack, the impact of the Cylon round sent the helmet spiralling upward and behind Berzai's position, leaving a small cloud of shredded paper from the cigarette pack hanging in the air. In the seconds while the helmet flew across Dawn's hull, Berzai put a hand onto his forehead, then with a grim look turned back to his rifle and scope. As his gaze settled back onto the communications Cylon, he could hear the hollow metal sound as the ruined helmet hit the starship's upper surface. He squinted briefly, thankful that his head had not been inside it. Then he was back to business, seeking his prize target.

The gold-armored Cylon was gone.

Kaashi, Berzai cursed mentally, then aimed once again at the neck of the first centurion. He feathered the trigger, and once more the Scorpian rifle gave its silenced, broken chain report. Swiftly, Berzai threw the rifle's bolt and then reacquired his target. He fired again, catching the triple-oh-five in the jaw as it toppled forward. He pulled his rifle back as he ducked back behind the machinery for cover. Another notch to carve, he thought, his thumb running across the existing ridges on the stock of his rifle.

Then he heard it, the distant sound of incoming aircraft, the roar building in intensity. Time to move again, he decided, and craned his neck to find another bit of equipment to hide behind. As he searched, he glanced back toward the growing sound of what he assumed were fighters, friend or foe.

That'd better be ours, he silently groused, as he began his trek toward fresh cover.


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PostPosted: Sun Feb 14, 2010 11:08 pm 
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Oasis
Day 265


Rudnik's Viper blasted through the upper Oasian atmosphere and into the clear troposphere, it's shielded armor cooling from re-entry. The craft dropped beneath the sound barrier and the sonic disruption could be heard across the land. As he neared the chaotic surface below, his Centurion targets revealed themselves clearly, their chassis shining brightly in the clear Oasis day.

"Targets aquired," the Captain confirmed over the wireless. "Clear the lane for some hurt."

Beeep!

With that, two NAC-4 "Can-opener" missiles released from the interceptor's wing tips. The colonial ordinance blasted away under its own power as the Viper pulled out of its high-G attack run.

The Cylons turned to fire on the inbound death from above and a well-placed EMF round caused one of the missiles to detonate in midair. It was already too late, the shock wave knocked the several of them to the ground, leaving them zero time to escape as the second plowed into the center of the formation, turning what had been a number of triple-o-five Centurions into a significantly larger number of spare parts.

As the survivors of the blast began to rise up, three more were cut down by auto cannon fire as Rudnik blasted overhead a small piece of his professional, ongoing revenge on the Cylon race.

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PostPosted: Mon Feb 15, 2010 6:41 pm 
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Oasis
Day 265

A gold-hued centurion heard the sound of Colonial ordnance in the distance, but it didn’t pause in its quiet trek through the Oasian forest. It had a dataset of combat priorities programmed into its operating system, and it had determined that the current priority was ‘survival’.

It had taken charge of the basic combat models in its vicinity; these centurions followed it through the trees, spread out at proper combat intervals. Glints of light shone off polished surfaces as the rays of the Oasian sun brightened through a thinner cloud layer. The group was not particularly quiet, but there were no humans to take note of their passage.

A giant sloth paused in its foraging as the metallic creatures went by, but this was not winged danger from above, so the sloth continued its search for food. No harm would come from these machine-smelling objects.

No harm at all…

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Director of National Intelligence James R. Clapper, about budget cuts for the US’s intelligence agencies: "We're not going to do more with less and all these other clichés. . . . We will just simply have less capability."


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PostPosted: Tue Feb 16, 2010 10:08 pm 
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Oasis
Day 265


Tom Cody watched the fire at the Gaean Temple spread throughout its building from across the street. The survivors of the fight, Sextant Guard members and Marines had fallen back to an elementary school. The teachers and staff had moved the children to a safe spot in the building that was meant for protection in storms or possible dragon attacks.

As the smoke and flames climbed higher into the air, Cpl. Cody heard the Combat Network come back online. He awaited to get the 'all clear' so he could report. Tom also noted something else...he hadn't heard any gunfire or seen any Cylons since the last firefight.

After sliding back down into his hidden position, the Marine took a deep breath. Hopefully, this fight over...but will the war ever truly be over?

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"Times change...and so must I." - The Doctor, 'Time of the Doctor'


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PostPosted: Mon Feb 22, 2010 5:14 pm 
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Destroyer Perseus
Day 265

(by Raider X, Gin Rummy and JDCTexas)

Commander Vansen looked at the clock and then across the command table, "Horn and Scorpion should be coming up soon. Status, Major?"

Petty Officer Becca Reyes looked up from her station before the XO could answer, "Sir, communications from Hades Horn and Scorpion Mining. Both ships have cleared their landing zones."

"Perfect time for the Cylons to pop in," chimed in Capt. Jackson Teller, monitoring a DRADIS scanner intently. "Should scan for I.R. spikes, even a small one might be a Raider patrol jumping in," he added.

"Very well and good idea, Captain." Vansen paused and looked at Maj. Baker. "Please get a calculation on their ascent rates so we can pass an ETA along to Taurus."

"Already done Sir," Baker smiled. "Both Hades Horn and Scorpion Mining will be clear of the asteroid field in a few minutes. And right on time, if I might add, because there's one of those big rocks floating in their direction. At the current course and speed, it should pass a safe distance away, but I'm still monitoring it..."



Scorpion Mining 742
D265


"Lift off complete...we will be clear of all objects in two minutes, Captain." navigator Jamie Hicks said. "ETA to Perseus in four minutes. FTL fully spooled and ready for jump at your command."

"Continue until we rendezvous the destroyer." Jenna Correntti said flatly. "J'Sharh, please have our signal light folks relay our status to Perseus."

For the next minute and a half, the mining ship continued on its trajectory. Suddenly, there was a jarring that could be felt throughout the craft.

"Captain, we have a main engine and directionals failure...showing the main engine reactors have scrammed." Hicks reported. "FTL still online!"

Jenna looked across the bridge at J'Sharh, "Contact Engineering and find out what the Hades is going on..."



Destroyer Perseus
Day 265


When he got the 'translation', Major Baker frowned. "Sir," he turned back towards Commander Vansen, Scorpion Mining has lost power to their main engines! And they're right in the path of that frakkin' rock!"

"Shit!" Vansen said in shock. Karl stood there thinking the situation through, "I need an ETA to collision....and Capt. Teller, order all weapons to lock onto that rock. Get Scorpion Mining Actual on the line, stat!"

"Aye, Sir!" the officer called back, his hands attacking the console nearest him. Without looking from his work he asked, "Mind telling me why this is the best time for target practice?" a tone from the console underlayed his final words. "Firing solutions in, all weapons are hot, Commander. Standing by.."

"We're going to try and change the trajectory that rock without using a nuke." Vansen said. "A nuke too close may blind them...and we're down to four nukes left. XO, I need that ETA yesterday!"

"I know Sir," Major Baker replied, his voice tense, "ETA is twenty-four seconds...not enough to change the trajectory with the Guns only...the numbers just don't add up Sir! We either use one of the nukes or we loose that miner!"

"Inform Taurus and Libra of our situation." Vansen then looked at Capt. Teller, "The use of nuclear weapons is authorized...fire missile number one at that rock!"

"Twenty seconds left!" Baker had started a countdown that started to show on the large DRADIS screen. "This will be really close!"

The nuclear missile cleared its launch tube and went on a direct path to the small asteroid. Even at full speed, it would close.

On the mining ship, Captain Correntti watched the rock close on her ship. She prayed that somehow they would live. J'Sharh looked at the DRADIS and watched the missile close in. His breathing slowed as both objects closed and then became one.

The, suddenly the sound of an explosion was heard and then the bridge crew could hear several objects bouncing off the armored hull. After a minute, the XO of Scorpion Mining 742 looked looked at the DRADIS and then at the Captain, "We're clear of the object...we have a two minute open window to jump."

Jenna didn't say a word...she personally walked over to navigation and turned the jump key herself.

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PostPosted: Mon Feb 22, 2010 10:36 pm 
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Oasis, Camp Blue Sky
Day 265 1650 Hours

Duncan stood next to the Raptor, looking out over the orderly chaos of Camp Blue Sky. The wounded had been medevac'd and the bodies of those killed returned to the fleet with dignity. Already repairs were being done to the damaged ships and temporary structures set up around the camp.

Scott had found the carcass of a gold-toned cylon, not too badly damaged, and had ordered it, along with another regular 0005, crated and sent to the Libra, labeled 'Deliver to Major David Dedrick'.

He'd gotten a combat net sitrep from Gunnery Sergeant Razorski in the city, and Dr DeValera delivered his report in person about the cylon uprising at the airfield. Lt Morgan had briefed him on the fight here at Camp Blue Sky, and he'd seen himself that the merchant camp was secure. He'd already submitted a preliminary after-action report to the Admiral via the Raptor's wireless.

The cylon rebellion on Oasis was over.

All that remained was tending the wounded, and sending the dead on to whichever gods they worshipped.

"Ra’iten a’à jin k'ai," Kyan S'Vekar murmured to himself. Aten's will is beyond our understanding. He glanced westward as the clouds parted in the sky and Oasis' sun shone, rays spreading like the fingers of the gods. "Ra’iten." As Aten wills.

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Director of National Intelligence James R. Clapper, about budget cuts for the US’s intelligence agencies: "We're not going to do more with less and all these other clichés. . . . We will just simply have less capability."


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PostPosted: Tue Feb 23, 2010 11:02 pm 
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Oasis - McCready Farmhouse
Day 265
1708


When the word spread about the Cylons attacking people in the city and near-by camps, Ryan McCready immediately gathered his daughter and the rest of the farmhands in the main house. In short order, the five people had turned the home into an armed encampment.

The news of what had happened at Founder's Hall came over the radio shortly after the group had barricaded the doors. The unconfirmed reports that Tim McCready, Ryan's brother, had been severely injured by a Cylon sent shock waves through the group. There was an uneasy near-silence through the farmhouse. The group also knew that they had to remain vigilant for any Cylons. All they could do was wait for an all clear... or be ready for the worst.

Phone circuits were overloaded, so there was no way to call Janice or anyone at the hospital. The group cautiously peeked out the windows looking for any signs of the Cylons. In the distance, they could see smoke rising from the city. The only thing that broke the silence was the radio in the background and the creaking of wooden floor when someone walked.

In the late afternoon, Jessica Medena was the first to hear the truck coming down the road. As everyone took defensive positions, a CivDef patrol truck turned off the main dirt road and down the path that lead to the farmhouse. Once Lt. Bryan Oliver stepped out of the truck, the group let their guard down a little.

Jessica watched as Ryan and Ashley McCready went out to greet Oliver. She watched the man, reading his lips as he spoke to her boss and friend. After a moment, she closed her eyes and started to silently pray.

Ashely McCready let out a scream of 'no!' and immediately started to cry. Ryan wrapped his arms around his grieving daughter. His chin rested on top of her head, which was buried in his jacket.

In the background, a special report over the radio interrupted the emergency coverage: Tim McCready, the number two person in the Oasian government, had been killed at the hands of the Cylons.

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"Times change...and so must I." - The Doctor, 'Time of the Doctor'


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PostPosted: Tue Feb 23, 2010 11:18 pm 
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Day 265
1710
HighlandsDawn
President's Office


Eleni Kyriake stood near the door the the President's inner office, waiting for his secretary, Laura, to tell her she could enter. The Secretary of State had a weary look on her face, and absently, nervously smoothed the front of her blouse, just as Laura set down the phone and nodded to her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the inner office, and closed the door behind her.

"Mister President. I have news from the planet."

"Have a seat, Eleni." President Meyers said with a concerned look on his face. "You look like you been through the wringer. What's going on?"

"The situation on the ground is beginning to stabilize, fighting is still ongoing in some areas but Cylon forces are being contained. Local authorities and our people on the scene anticipate defeat of the Cylon forces by nightfall."

"Very good. I'll be in contact with the Admiral shortly." Meyers shook his head. "We warned them... and they didn't believe us. What happened in that meeting when all hell broke loose?"

"The Provost decided to 'prove' his point that Cylons were harmless by marching a pair of them--a 0004 and a 0005--into chambers unannounced in the middle of our session. Then he decided to further prove his point by ordering them to kill Mister Greene, and himself, in order to 'prove' that they wouldn't harm humans."

Eleni paused briefly, an shook her head slightly. "He lost that bet. I was informed just before I came here that he died shortly after his arrival at a local hospital."

"I know you're not supposed to speak poorly of the dead but that was dumb." Andy shook his head, "Damn dumb. I take it the rest of our delegation and the Oasians are still on Libra? What are their status?"

"One of the Oasians is in the infirmary, today's events appear to have not gone well for her." Eleni made the 'crazy' sign with on finger making a circle near the side of her head. "I have the rest set up with quarters on Libra until things are stable enough down there for them to return. Liza, Greene, and Garris, as well."

As Andy was about to say something, he heard a 'chime' sound from his computer. He looked over and saw a high-priority message, "Let me check this... Mr. Greene will not need his room on Libra from the looks of it. He is inbound to the Catalina and has called for an emergency Quorum session. It also looks like all the Quorum members made it off the planet as well. The presence of myself and Commander Guynes has been... requested."

Eleni made a face, knowing full well from decades in Caprica City what it meant when the Quorum 'requested' the presence of members of the Executive branch and the military.

"Did he mention what the reason for that presence, sir?"

"What our response was going to be to this crisis and what to do with our people on the ground." Meyer shook his head, "Notice, he didn't have the balls to ask for the Admiral to show up. Hell, Ben would have showed up to stare them down. Before all this happened I was planning to attend the session... dealing with the STOP folks. Well, If I'm going to deal with the fools on the Catalina, I need to send you back to the planet... and I'm having your guards doubled. See if the Oasians need any assistance. Also get me a fresh report from our folks on the ground."

"Yes sir." said Eleni. If she felt any trepidation at being sent back to the planet before it was fully secured, she showed none of it... and if she felt any relief at having been spared summons to the Quorum session, she showed none of it, either. "What do you intend to tell them our response will be?"

"We'll assist any way we can. Some of the Captains are voluntarily taking anyone off the ground and heading to orbit with Libra. PG402 cleared the ground about 20 minutes ago, but they are holding in orbit. Our camp is safe at this time, but I am considering an evacuation." Andy took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "That's why I need you on the ground... I need some eyes and ears back down there. You will have been there a couple of hours before the Quorum goes into session. I'll huddle with Ben, Liza, and William... we need to be on the same page."

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