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 Post subject: Episode 24: Retribution
PostPosted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 9:17 pm 
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written by SonofTed

Foreword

“They’re a bunch of disorganized losers who squander precious resources,” Dean said angrily. “When you look back at our three month history with them, they’ve lost every encounter except the one where they took us by surprise. If they don’t have an advantage and they can’t throw overwhelming force around us… they’re just as vulnerable to a good defense as anyone.” He snorted with laughter. “Machine efficiency my ass… as soon as they introduced a biological component back into their existence they became as flawed as they claim we are. Emotions make perfection impossible… I think Uriel was an arrogant ass and I’m glad that he’s dead. Whatever he was promising to do for us we don’t need right now… to survive we will need trained human beings that we can count on during times of crisis.”

- Specialist Dean Cowan to Jordan Miller
Day 97, aboard Intrepid

.


Last edited by Silon on Wed Feb 28, 2007 11:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Episode 24:

“Retribution”


noun
1. a justly deserved penalty
2. the act of correcting for your wrongdoing
3. the act of taking revenge (harming someone in retaliation for something harmful that they have done) especially in the next life

Previously on BATTLESTAR LIBRA

Day 0
Raptor 727


Letting go of the harness, Lt. Patrick Cardelli swung his feet forward and behind him, then kicked the pilot’s console and pushed himself headfirst at the struggling ECO, Lt. Simon Landers. Patrick’s full mass slammed into the Lieutenant and suddenly both Simon and the second gun were spinning out into deep space while Patrick steadied himself against the edge of the doorway.

Image

Refusing to give up, Simon’s fingers grabbed onto one of the handholds along the side of the Raptor’s hatch opening. With anger completely overwhelming him, Patrick grabbed one of the military rifles clipped to a storage panel along the Raptor’s wall and – butt first – began to smash the weapon into Lieutenant Landers’ helmet. Repeatedly he struck his opponent, and repeatedly the ECO continued to hold on, even long after cracks began appearing in his faceplate.

The muscles in Patrick’s right arm burned from the effort he was expending trying to keep himself alive, while most of the feeling in his broken left arm had turned into a partial numbness that occasionally throbbed with quick bursts of pain. Crying out with total rage, Patrick slammed the butt of the rifle hard against the spot where Simon’s hand still held firmly at the edge of the hatchway. It took him a total of three whacks with the bottom of the rifle before Simon finally let go of the Raptor and tumbled away into space.

----------

Day 9, 1200 hrs
Libra


“You call me a collaborator, a traitor, a spy. I can assure you I am none of the above,” Hans Dean continued. “I am the real thing, that actual artifact. I am a cylon.”

Image

Riley stood quickly from the table and he exchanged worried looks with Rodrigues. “You’re a cylon?”

“Of course Major. Do you think because I am not wearing a metal suit I cannot be one of God’s children? You must understand that many years have passed. We have made some…advances in the field of genetics.”
Rodrigues leaned against the table. “So now you look like us. You eat, you sleep, you sweat, and you even stink like us. What do you think that’s going to get you, Dean? Acceptance as human won’t cut it here.”

Dean glared. “Acceptance as HUMAN? Your race is flawed. You are no longer on the top of the food chain so to speak. Your children have returned and we shall set right what has been so wrong. You humans created us, now you shall reap what you sow.”

Riley stepped forward and hit Dean across the mouth. Blood trickled from a newly made cut. When he regained his composure Dean looked at Riley with an intense hatred. It will be a pure pleasure to watch you die, Riley. I will dance upon your grave and spit upon your corpse.” He said with laughter.

“Is that so,” Rodrigues said. “Then if we are to die why not tell us it all? How many of you are here onboard this ship, in this fleet? How are you maintaining contact with your superiors?”

Dean looked at the bruises on his chest and then at Rodrigues. “You only need to be concerned with how it ends, Benito. Your own frailty as a species has been your undoing. Your basis for fair judgment even with extreme prejudices has made you weak. I will sit here and watch you all perish, comfortable in the knowledge you have no idea when it will happen. You are rats in a cage. You are already dead gentlemen, you just don’t know it yet.”

“Then I guess,” Rodrigues continued, “you are no longer useful as a prisoner.”

Dean cackled. “Why my dear Benito, you are too funny. You won’t do anything to me. I am unarmed and restrained. I am at your mercy. Your sense of innocent until proven guilty will prevent you from doing anything until its too late. As it is Benito, it is already too late.”

Rodrigues turned to leave.

“See, Benito,” Hans Dean said. “You are predictable.”

“I don’t think so.” Rodrigues turned, drew his sidearm, pointed it at Dean and fired. The bullet struck Dean squarely between the eyes and snapped his head back with the force of the shot. His chair tipped backwards from the force of the impact and he fell to the floor, blood and brain matter oozing from the entrance wound.

----------

Day 20, 0020
Grandeur


She could feel his hands around her neck.

Squeezing.

Psy D’Argent looked into his eyes as he started to end her life.

She closed her eyes: his face was not the last thing she ever wanted to see and imagined Kalrk.

As his image rose before her, she remembered the two things she had learned about cylons over the last two days:

They were very very strong and it would be pointless to even try and break his hold on her, but more importantly, they were anatomically correct.

Psy reached down and grabbed his privates and proceeded to squeeze hard, followed by a strong yank. She felt something come loose and Aaron Dirac completely let go of her and howled in pain; Psy then decked him hard and watched him fall over. She followed his momentum so that the minute he hit the floor she was ready to finish him off with a stomp to his heart with her stilletos. She felt it slide through his skin and was lucky not to encounter any bone... and the shoe easily pierced his heart.

Image

----------

Day 64, 0847
Pan Galactic 76


“You must get this ship out of thes…these clouds.” Passenger Joy McCord said to Captain Bevfah.

“That’s the plan, Joy. We are doing that right now, we should be able to get out in the next day or two.” Heather looked at the sweat pouring from the female’s body.

Joy screamed back. “We must leave now! Now I say! Or I will die! Those clouds are killing me!”

“Please settle down, miss.” Heather put her hand on the woman’s arm. “This won’t do you any good.”

“I need to get out of these clouds and see a doctor!” She continued to scream.

“We do not have a ship’s doctor; we send all our patents to the Iasoan.” Heather replied. She left the woman’s side and got the tray of food and water.

Joy looked like panic was ripping through her whole body. “We need to get out of these clouds right now.”

Heather approached her with the tray and said. “Joy we will not be able to leave these clouds for the next day or two, I told you that, we are trapped around a black hole. Here you must drink something you look deh…”

Joy reached out with her hands and pushed the tray out of the captain’s hands. “I said now, or I will be dead.” She went to get out of the bed, but Porter was there to hold her down.

“Let go of me!” She screamed. “I have to….must..ge…uggg.” Her body started to shake, Heather grabbed her other arm. The shaking continued to get worse, and before long she was flat on her back having violent convulsions.

Image

----------

Day 67, 1216
Nimbus


"I give you Carl Rattiford, your interim president!" said Patrick Greene from the podium. The two men shook hands and the delegates stood to applaud. After a few moments, Greene left the podium and moved to a seat at the back of the conference hall.

After President Rattiford was several minutes into his speech, Kayla Welch, aide to the Pride of Aquaria delegation, reached for her briefcase. The podium was just a short distance and only two guards were somewhat in the way.

Getting past the first guard was easy enough because a door leading to a hallway was right next to him. The second guard was not so easy.

"Where do you think..." the marine stopped in mid-sentence when she produced a small, derringer type pistol seemingly out of nowhere and shot him. As the sound rang out, she rushed the stage; convention security and the marines were moving in when she grabbed the president.

"This is just sixty-seven days late, Mr. President..."

Kayla pressed the power button to the earTunes player in her suit jacket. The plastic explosives detonated, taking out the Three model, the president and most of the conference hall.

Image

----------

Day 71, 1132
Iasoan

Dr. Persis Long needed something, anything!, to help her through the pain... And then she heard it, a soft voice singing, barely above a whisper, a sweet song... a lullaby.

"What are you singing?" she gasped between pangs.

Ilka sniffled. "It's... a song... my Mama used to sing to me when I was little. About a happy blue bird... I will stop if it bothers you..."

"No, no, go ahead..." There was something soothing about the girls soft voice weaving in and out around her agony and misery, something... uplifting. But then she screamed as another stab of pain split her body.

Ilka wormed her aching body as close to the border of the bed as she could and extended her arm. "Here. take my hand. Maybe if you squeeze when the pain comes you'll feel better."

Persis held on to the girl's hand like a lifeline.

And so it went for the next few hours, as the young girl sang, hummed, talked and cajoled the doctor through the worst of the pain.

And then she dropped Ilka's hand.

And her monitor screamed.

Image

----------

Day 81, 2258
Convention: After Hours


"I want to touch the child." said the Six model, known as Carilyn Warren, in a tone that was reverent and yet somehow cold, all at the same time.

"I will kill you, or die trying, before I let you hurt him." Psy threatened.

"I would never hurt the child." said the Six, sounding as sincere as a Cylon ever did.

Image

Psy looked at the cylon curiously, thoughts racing through her head, plans formulating "Why?" she asked as some of her tension left her.

"The child is the will of God. The future."

Psy placed her hands on her tummy giving it a rub "Yes, he is special." Psy tilted her head to the side "Would you like to touch?" she asked.

"Yes....please." said the Six model, her eyes lighting up, as she took that final step forward, and reverently placed her hand on Psy's stomach.

A hair's breath from contact, Psy grabbed both of Six's hands "Promise me you will not be a problem, and I will let you touch." she demanded.

"I promise." she said, although it was clear that at that point she would have said anything, true or not, to secure the chance.

"You won't fight me?" Psy raised her eyebrow.

"No."

Psy let go of her hands.

Slowly, the Six model dropped to her knees, and placed her hands flat against Psy's stomach.

She ran her hands along, side to side, as if trying to feel the shape of things to come....then bent her head forward, and laid her head against Psy's stomach, as well.

A moment after the Six rested her head on her tummy, Psy gasped in shock as she felt a violent fluttering in her abdomen, her baby's first movements, and well before she should have felt them.

"Gods." she whispered as her eyes glistened with tears in joy of feeling her baby for the first time.

A few moments after the movement inside Psy's belly, the Six model raised her head, and looked up, with tears in her own eyes.....

Psy looked down on the Six and noticed the same look of awe and wonder in her eyes that she was feeling. Psy then took both her hands and placed them on Six's face, brushing away her tears with her thumbs.
"And now time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain." she said sadly.

Slowly Psy moved one hand to the back of the Six's head and the other to her chin, and in a quick motion snapped her neck, and catching her body before it hit the ground.

----------

Day 89, 0525
Astral Dawn



The shot was incredibly loud in the morning stillness of the pool area. The kitchen worker, now behind the food counter, was about to pull the emergency alarm switch on the wall when he heard it. Distracted for a moment by the sound, he forgot about triggering the diversion.

The second Duncan heard the gunshot, he dove for his rifle, grabbing it and twisting to look behind him, still on one knee. The woman was on the floor; the shot had taken her square in the chest. Duncan glanced over to where S’Jahar still stood; slowly Nik lowered his rifle. Duncan turned his attention back to Dedrick and Uriel, his rifle ready, but Dedrick was still tucked in close behind Uriel. At this range, a rifle shot would likely penetrate the Cylon's body and strike the Captain as well.

Uriel turned to see where the noise had come from. It was hard to tell as the single shot reverberated, seeming to come from everywhere due to the acoustics of the room. But he saw the kneeling Marine, already with his rifle back in his hands. Worse, Uriel saw Sasha sliding off her stool. She had been killed.

The man in the foyer, the jogger who had given Duncan directions to the Buffet Room, rushed into the Pool Room. He spotted Uriel standing there with Dedrick behind him, but could not locate the other Marine. For a moment he hesitated, but then decided that it didn't matter. He had to do it. Pulling a pistol from his bag, he raised it and shot Uriel three times rapidly in the chest. Quickly moving closer, he prepared to shoot again… but Uriel was dead.

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PostPosted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 9:59 pm 
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Day 110
a cylon baseship


“26 and 87.” The Three said. “Separate they were some challenge. An annoyance.”

“But now…” The Five agreed with her. ““They continue to find others.”

“We need to find them and destroy them. Now.” The oldest looking male said, rather directly.

There were nods by the others.

“We have another problem too.” The Leoben reminded them. “The Six who calls herself Carilyn Warren.”

The Simon agreed with him. “She’s become too attached to the human Nordstrom. All because she had that … experience.”

“The child is a gift from god.” The Six reminded them. “We do not question god’s will.”

“Of course not, Six.” Three said in agreement. “But the other Six… Warren… she’s become… “

“We don’t need her.” The Five almost spat the words. “All we need is the woman… to protect the child, before we finish them.”

“You’ll see Riley again, Hans.” The tall dark one said, almost teasingly.

The Five looked at him, but said nothing.

“How do we protect the child, when we don’t know where the woman is?” The tall dark one asked.

“We get the woman. They give her to us.” The older looking man said.

“And then they die.” Three finished his thought.

“We agree.” The Eight said.

.


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PostPosted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 10:12 pm 
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*written by GoldWolf*

Previously on Battlestar Libra…

Dr Trap Moreland had become a civilian staff member of the Libra after he and the other scientists on Outpost 29 had been forced to evacuate the scientific research station. Cylons had forced the issue, of course, and they’d escaped, literally, just in the nick of time. He and the others had joined the fleet 74 days, 2 hours, and 26 minutes ago, and since then he’d had the chance to work on many interesting projects.

His favorite duties, though, would always be monitoring the radio frequencies, both recorded ones with signals the computer had tagged as “possibly interesting” and live transmissions.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Battlestar Libra R&D
Day 110 Time 1800
Dr Trap Moreland



Listening for signals transmitted on known cylon frequencies had become a routine for Trap; he’d programmed the receiver to scroll through the freqs automatically, stopping for a second on each one. He had the scanner set for the right side of his headphones, and with his left ear he was listening to recorded signals sent over from Outpost 29’s computer, now located on the Harvest Moon. The signals had been collected by the radio telescope and parsed by the computer, and now Trap listened to a pulsar with a 2.782 second periodicity. It was a soothing rhythm, and Trap reached out one long arm to enter the pulsar’s characteristics into the computer without upsetting his reclining position in the chair.

He’d just advanced the recording to the next signal when a sudden live transmission in his right ear caught his attention. In an instant, he was leaning forward, setting the console so both ears would monitor the live signal.

It was on a known cylon frequency… faint… automatically, Trap sent the data to the Harvest Moon to triangulate on the source of the transmission. While he was waiting, he ran the recording of the brief signal through the filtering software, getting it a little clearer. It was encrypted, of course, and only lasted 1.982 seconds, so decryption wasn’t even a remote possibility; and he wasn’t surprised when the results of the triangulation came back inconclusive.

He looked at the returned direction finding data, though. “Oh, frak,” he muttered, and picked up the handset. “Dr Trap Moreland to CIC… sir, I’ve picked up a cylon signal. It didn’t last long enough to get an exact location of the source; but it was definitely from somewhere within the fleet!”

*


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PostPosted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 10:12 pm 
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Previously on Battlestar Libra...

(Co-Written w/ SilverLantern)


Liza Liala was an agent of the Colonial Bureau of Investigation, until the Cylons attacked the Twelve Colonies. On leave on board the Astral Dawn at the time of the attacks, she found herself in a central role in maintaing civil governance, and is now Chairwoman of the Convention aboard Catatlina.

That Convention has had its ups and downs. Bickering delegates, a murdered delegate, a missing delegate, several more delegates presumed dead with missing ships, new delegates from the Intrepid fleet, and an assassination attempt against her, 11 days earlier.

Her fiance and bodyguard was shot in that attempt. Now, the Convention presses on.


1800, Day 110
Catalina
Convention Chambers


Liza watched as the delegates filed out, and then (with great relief that she didn't let show on her face) the press, as well. Finally, only a few people remained in the room--Herself, Willborn, Arthur Jarvik, a few other observers, and the marine bodyguards that had been shadowing her every move for the last 11 days. She gathered up her files and papers, and started stuffing them in her briefcase.

"Not a bad day, Liza." Jonathan Willborn said cheerfully. "There's definite momentum."

"Yes." she said, nodding and slinging her briefcase over her shoulder. "I thought for a day or two we had lost them for sure, when they spent the first day focused on nothing but Linfield, and Rodrigues' subsequent order to confiscate weapons....."

"And don't forget the .. discussion if Kalrk should remain a delegate. But like someone said, 'Without Mercurius, she can't have a representative.'"

"...Which of course led to the discussion and vote about removing the delegates from the two ships we lost more recently. Thank the gods they finally decided to let them stay on as observers. the last thing we needed was another political fist fight...." She stopped for a moment, shaking her head, as if at nothing. "...Still not used to walking around unarmed, I admit. I feel...naked, almost."

"I'd like to feel you naked." he said mischeviously.

"Are you two available for dinner?" Arthur Jarvik, retired mayor of Canceron City, asked the pair, while he was approaching them. "Or do you have plans?"

"None that I know of." said Liza. "I admit we haven't gone out much, the last 11 days....But perhaps it's time to change that. After all....I have a feeling if I stay absent from the public areas of Catalina much longer, the press will start asking...questions."

"I'm always able to eat." Jonathan aid to the older man. "Even with one wing in a sling." he moved his wounded arm.

"Do you have anywhere in particular in mind, Arthur?" said Liza, as they made their way towards the door--no small feat, all things considered. She realized she found the presence of the marines just as annoying as she had found the multiple guards she had been saddled with shortly before martial law was declared. Still...She wouldn't have dismissed them for anything....if she had even been allowed to.

"How about Grandeur? I haven't been back to my 'ship of residency' for some time now. And I'm feeling very good today."

Granduer. She had once, following the Dirac affair, sworn that if she ever set foot there again, it would be too soon. However...Something inside her told her to say 'yes'...and she had long ago learned to trust her instincts.

"Alright....I trust you know the best restaurants there?" she said.

"Oh yes." Arthur beamed. "I can make a call and arrange a table for four for 2100."

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PostPosted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 11:14 pm 
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Previously on Battlestar Libra…

---Captain Alicia “Mad Dog” Barker, Destroyer Douglas J. Griffyn CAG had followed Major Watkins orders and formed two new squadrons for the Griffyn: the Zephyrs and Harpys. But would these two new squadrons be able to handle actual combat? After appointing squadron leaders, Lt Joss Varen for Zephyrs and Lt Alaina Kessner for the Harpys, she went on leave with her lover, Clive Brown of Demeter.

Spending a wonderful and universe-shaking night on the Catalina, she returned to Griffyn and got back into the routine of her paperwork and CAP schedules.

--- Commander Brennan Samuel Herald, Destyoer Douglas J. Griffyn Actual, had briefed Admiral Rodrigues on the sitrep while he was gone, and was actually enjoying not being Fleet Commander. He realized that the depression he had felt before Rodrigues went missing had faded. “Can I really get over the grief of losing my daughter and wife”, he asked himself.

Now he felt stronger, and having commanded the Fleet for a week, had hope that humanity would go on and survive.


---Now---

D110 T1800

Varen did fine on CAP with the Zephyrs by himself, but let’s see what he does when I’m out there, Mad Dog thought, remembering she contacted Streaker and got 4 of the Stallions to be out there as well, Fleet CAG wants bigger CAPs for bigger fleet, Mad Dog thought, skids up in ten minutes.

Oh frak, got to send Clive an e-note after CAP, Mad Dog reminded herself as she headed for the hangar of the port flight pod.

Zephyrs were launching from the starboard pod, and Mad Dog’s detail from the port.

“You’re people ready to go Streaker”, Mad Dog asked, bumping her helmet against Captain Barton’s shoulder.

“Yes ma’am, we going to baby sit the Zephyrs”, Barton asked jokingly.

She slowed down her pace and got very serious, “hey, you know how it is being a new squadron leader, and besides, some of the Zephyrs can out fly some of your Stallions Streaker, maybe you all should trade out”.

Barton and Mad Dog had an understanding, both being on Griffyn for around the same amount of time. “We’ll see about that Mad Dog, remember, my pilots took out those nukes on Trap2”, Barton replied. “Yeah, with me baby sitting the whole time”, Mad Dog replied, beginning to laugh, as they walked down the stairs to the hangar deck.

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Previously on Battlestar Libra….

The Destroyer Douglas J. Griffyn had been alive with activity. From two new squadrons being formed to the chaplain re-opening his office for counseling, and then Griffyn’s team losing the contest aboard Taurus. The destroyer was a-buzz with activity, including investigations into a previous bombing… that was deemed inconclusive as to suspects at the time.

Commander Herald had noticed that crew morale had picked up enormously since the Admiral returned, and the feeling of fleet unity was truly incredible. They had really done it, taken two separate fleets with two different pasts and merged them into one body of humanity.

D110 T1800

“All’s quiet out there Braddock”, Herald regarded his still-acting XO. “Yes sir, the fleet’s really come together”, Braddock replied to he Commander. Herald looked up at the DRADIS screen, and saw the fleet, for the future of humanity, we will make it.

In the time that Lt Braddock had been acting XO, he had really come out of his shell. When he was strictly the DRADIS operator, he was skittish and often nervous in a command situation, but now Herald had the utmost confidence of leaving the CIC to Braddock alone.

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PostPosted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 11:31 pm 
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Previously on Battlestar Libra…

Captain Donald Gibbs’ luxury liner Astral Dawn, has been: fired upon by cylon raiders, boarded by cylon centurions, almost destroyed by the pull of a black hole, a refuge for an unwanted bilon named Uriel.

With those horrors behind, Gibbs continues to keep peace upon his ship, while living under martial law.

1800, Day 110
Astral Dawn

“Phineus, everything is quiet. So, have a good night.” The captain said to the co-pilot, who was coming on duty.

“Sure thing, Don. Hey! Tell Kalrk I said hello!”

“Sure will. Hope he understands why I’m late for dinner.”

“Paperwork got you; he’ll understand.”

“”Well, from what security told me, he’s having a tough time getting through the crowd to the dining room, I Might get there before he does. Bye!”


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PostPosted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 11:39 pm 
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Previously on Battlestar Libra...

Major Scott Duncan had been assigned to the destroyer escort Bellerophon for exactly eleven days, and it seemed both like much less time than that, and much more. It was a good thing that he didn’t need much sleep, because he’d been on duty almost non-stop since he’d arrived on the ship.

He now commanded 124 Fiddà… former Fiddà… Scorpian clan outcasts, criminals turned mercenaries, who had sworn loyalty to him as their warleader. Now they were the 1st Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Company, or ‘Spectre’. The 38 Fiddà who had not sworn loyalty to Duncan had been transferred; 18 to the Necromancer, 20 to the Hades Horn. Now that the Marine guards were no longer needed on the Belle they’d been evenly split; 20 each to the two Cardelli ships and the Catalina.

There were still Marines on the Bellerophon, though, a small MarDet; two squads, one of which was Recon troops, and two Marine admin clerks. Luckily, Duncan had been able to hold onto Staff Sergeant Christopher Cosgrove, who’d taken on a variety of duties both with the Marines and the Spectre troops.

Keeping busy had helped Duncan stay sane. He hadn’t had much time to think about Dr Sarah Valliant, even though she’d been on the Belle doing physical exams of the Spectre grunts. Dr Sarah Valliant, who Scott Duncan knew was a cylon—but one who was sympathetic to the Colonials. Dr Sarah Valliant, whose boyfriend was Colonel Richard Cole, Duncan’s commander and CO of the Bellerophon. Dr Sarah Valliant, biological cylon known only to Cole and Duncan.

The time for disclosure had come, though.

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PostPosted: Wed Feb 28, 2007 11:42 pm 
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[Hazend, Raider X, GoldWolf]

Day 110,
1800 CUT
Admiral Rodrigues’ office,
Battlestar Libra

When the Admiral had taken his seat, Cole and Sarah were still standing in front of his desk. Scott Duncan stayed standing in the background, next to the hatch, quiet and unmoving.

Sarah still kept Cole’s hand in hers as if she could somehow gain strength from him before she spoke up. "Admiral, I have a question for you.... what do you think about second chances?"

Rodrigues thought about it for a second. It was an interesting question to say the least. A second chance at what though? A second chance to right wrongs, a second chance to take the enemy at their own game, or a second chance at survival? The third option was the one, which seemed so elusive as of late.

He sat there, watching the two of them as they stood in front of him. The question seemed so simple at first but suddenly it also seemed so important.

“It depends on the second chance I suppose, Doctor Valiant,” the question now nagged at him as if he could sense something was amiss. “Why do you ask?”

"I am asking because," Sarah continued after sharing a glance with Richard, "I am here to offer you a second chance." She paused again, her face showing how very uncomfortable she felt. "I am offering you a second Uriel.... another biolon that's willing to work with you instead of against you."

Rodrigues’ eyes narrowed. Gotta love that sixth sense he thought to himself. He stood slowly. “What exactly do you mean?”

Cole was the one to speak up first. "We have... gained knowledge... of another biological cylon that's hiding in the fleet." At the Admirals stare, he quickly added "But it's different, sir... this cylon is, like Uriel, offering us help. But of course, not for free."

At this, Sarah stopped Cole with a simple hand gesture. "Scott Duncan was the first to notice, but at my pleas he allowed me to present the case myself Admiral... hereby I, Sarah Vaillant and biological cylon Model 8, humbly request asylum in this fleet!"

Duncan knew Sarah was a cylon, but hearing her admit it out loud was still a shock; and for her to request asylum was even more of a shock. He waited to see the Admiral’s reaction.

_________________
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: Thu Mar 01, 2007 12:05 am 
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Previously on Battlestar Libra…

Since the attack, Demeter had gone from agro-transport ship to makeshift farm and home to the Muellers, the Schmidts, the McCormacks and the rest of its crew. And somehow, despite the cylon attack, it remained a happy ship, an oasis of normalcy in a universe gone mad. Chicks were born on Demeter and, on D95, kittens, and it was there that the lone survivor of a mysteriously destroyed fleet, a newborn named Zoe, was adopted into a loving family…

D110 1800
Demeter

“Here, Zoe, see the pretty kitten. KI-TTEN. Isn’t she pretty?” Else was showing baby Zoe the tiny bundles, making sure to keep them outside her reach, though; at almost 4 months old, Zoe McCormack was a healthy, happy child who smiled and gurgled at everyone and who tried to grab anything within her grasp.

The baby laughed and made a grab for the black and white squirming kitten.

Ferdie, who was holding Zoe, laughed too. “I see they’ve already opened their eyes…”

“Oh yes,” Else replied, placing Star next to her siblings. “Their eyes are open and they are much bigger! In a week or two they should be walking.”

Ferdie rose gracefully, the plump baby held firmly against her left shoulder. “Well, I think it’s time I take Zoe back to her parents. And it’s time for you young lady to get back to your chores. Isn’t it your turn to help with dinner?”

Else sighed dramatically. “Yes. And I HATE cooking!”

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Last edited by Eaglestar51 on Fri Mar 02, 2007 10:12 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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PostPosted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 5:18 am 
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Previously, on Battlestar Libra...

Captain Rayna "Draco" Darkstone had finally awoken from her coma, caused by injuries sustained in the initial Cylon attacks three months ago. But the injuries were severe enough, that she had developed a form of amnesia. She not only forgot the attacks, but also a few months preceeding them. In her mind, she was still a junior lieutenant, serving aboard the Battlestar Valkyrie. The repressed memories were bubbling just under the surface of her consciousness, causing her much anxiety. Doctors refused to tell her what happened for fear of triggering any unpleasant flashbacks before she was ready to deal with them.

However, her longtime friend and former squadmate, Lt. Nick "Quickdraw" Baxter, was right by her side. He had come to visit her nearly everyday, hoping her condition would improve. So as she recovered, he felt sympathetic. When she finally confronted him about what happened, he reluctantly told her the truth. The colonies were destroyed by the Cylons, who seem to look like us now. The news was devestating, and aggrivated her condition, causing her to become violent. A whole paranoid plot quickly formed in her head, reinforced by the dread she felt from the repressed memories. She had to get away from it all.

Finally, she made a daring escape attempt, leaving the infirmary and hijacking a Viper. But outside of the ship, she realized the grim truth. The colonies were nowhere in sight, and all that surrounded her were a handful of colonial ships. Quickdraw was able to stop her, convincing her that what he was saying was the truth, but moments later he had shattered that trust, as he disabled her Viper.

Now back in the infirmary, guarded by a marine, Rayna didn't know what to think anymore. She knew what Nick had told her was probably true, but she wasn't sure she could forgive him for betraying her, and letting them capture her again. But WERE they just Colonials? Or were they Cylons in disguise? She still wasn't sure, but she knew either way, she had no choice but to go along with it all....


CPT. Rayna "Draco" Darkstone
Battlestar Libra, Infirmary
Day 110, 18:00 Hours


Rayna layed back with her eyes closed, trying not to think about recent events. Instead, she was deep in her past....

Cruising down a long stretch of winding roads in her red dune buggy. She was about fifteen kilometers east of her hometown on Picon. The view was spectacular. Glimmering ocean to the right of her, and rocky fields to her left. Up ahead? Nothing but open road and blue-green mountains in the distance. She flipped her sunglasses down as the glare from the late-afternoon sun became too bright. The cool ocean air blowing through her long, silky black hair...The freedom she felt was just in-

*squeak. squeak. squeak. squeak.*

She slowly opened an eye. The nurse was wheeling a cart in...marine in tow. Rayna groaned inwardly.

"Now, you know the routine..."

"All to well.." she thought listlessly.

The nurse undid the strap around Rayna's right wrist, eying her carefully as if she were challenging her to try something. "..Two of these. And then the water."

Without even looking, Rayna slowly reached up and opened her hand. The nurse dropped two small pills in her palm, and she automatically placed them in her mouth. This was followed by a small cup of water. The guard stood at the end of the bed, not paying much attention; seemingly bored.

A thought flashed through her mind as she held the water and pills in her mouth. She could spit it back out at the nurse, surprising her. Maybe shove her away and... Rayna caught a glance at the barrel of the marine's rifle. "...and nothing.." she thought. Her heart sank, and she swallowed the pills. The nurse seemed content and put the strap back around Rayna's wrist.

*squeak. squeak. squeak. squeak.* The cart, the nurse, and the marine were gone again, leaving Rayna to her thoughts and memories. They were all she had left...what memories remained anyway. The pills were good at keeping her calm. Docile. But they did nothing to recover her memory... Nothing to make her happy again...

She squeezed her moist eyes shut once again. The sound of the motor. Cool breeze on her face....

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PostPosted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 11:45 am 
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Previously, on Battlestar Libra...


“What rank did you hold in the mercenary company?” Major Duncan asked.

"I was a Corporal, Kyafk'i," Morgan responded, "with my own fire team."

“You are now a Sergeant,” Duncan said evenly. “Fifty of your comrades have sworn their knives to me. You will return to the Bellerophon and take charge of those fifty. I expect strict obedience to my orders—and to the orders of Colonel Richard Cole, the commander of the Bellerophon.”

"A platoon, Kyafk'i?" Morgan blurted out, amazement in his voice. Then he brought himself under control, answering "As you will it" before Duncan could accuse him of questioning an order. Morgan smiled, while his eyes gave away the fact his thoughts were racing. "I will not fail you, warleader," he stated.

===

More calmly, Duncan went on, “The best chance for any of the Fiddà to be accepted by the fleet is if they have sworn their loyalty to me. I can claim all their knives, if I wished, but I’d prefer that they give me their vow willingly.” He looked at Morgan steadily. “Tell them, I am fair, but hard. I will demand much more of them than Rattler ever did. I will give them their only chance to regain their honor.”

As Duncan spoke, Morgan's face underwent a subtle change. Gone was the boyish enthusiasm he'd shown at his promotion, as well as the almost trance-like gaze Morgan had worn as he'd repeated the words of obedience so deeply rooted in the Scorpian desert society. "Don't worry, Major Duncan," he said, "I will deliver the remaining Disavowed into your hands." His voice was now clearly that of a man of cunning and intelligence. "I know where our future lies, and the things we must do if we are to live as free men, and not as prisoners or outcasts. The rest of the Sons of the Devil will swear their knives to you. Then, Major, we will talk about our future."

Steadily, Duncan said, “Rattler is no more. The Sons of the Devil are no more. We go forward as Brothers of the Knife.”


Destroyer Escort Bellerophon
Sergeant Josef Morgan, 1st Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Company
Earlier, Day 110


Four dozen ghosts drift silently across the desert sands, illuminated by the pale glow of the pearl moon hanging low on the horizon. A light wind whispers among them, triggering small sand-slides which hiss faintly as they flow down the leeward faces of the dunes. A sidewinder abandons its hunt to avoid the silent figures, giving a momentary reprieve to the mouse it has been tracking. Overhead a pair of nighthawks wheel, crying to each other as they hunt the night's last few insects.

The spectral figures continue their stealthy advance, snaking across the sand, holding to the low places where the dune crests hide them from prying eyes. Minutes pass, and tens of minutes, and then the ghosts are upon their prey. The carnage begins with muted gurgles as the sentries posted around the waterlord's camp die, their throats cut. Moments later the silver night is punctuated by the pop-pop-pop of silenced automatic weapons and the gritty thump of bodies dropping to the sand. The ghosts move among the tents and makeshift buildings, silently delivering death at every turn. They make the sign of Life over the bodies of their foe, and whisper the words - "Life returns to you, Mother Desert, as blood flows like water to sand." Somewhere, one of the waterlord's soldiers clenches his fingers as he dies, and his rifle sprays bullets into the night sky, piercing the silence with staccato sharpness. A few men yell in the aftermath, but it is too late for them, too late for the camp. The ghosts finish them quickly, and silence returns to the desert. The nighthawks circle back, and the sidewinder resumes his hunt. The little noises of the night begin anew, as though the passage of the ghosts had never been.

In the largest tent, Rattler stands over the waterlord's body, giving commands to his officers. Josef Morgan is among them, and it falls to him to find the thing for which the mercenaries came. While some take rifles and ammunition, food and water, Morgan and two others search out the waterlord's hoard of texa gems. Five minutes later he reports back, two members of his fire team packing small chests. He displays their contents to Rattler - hundreds of yellow stones that seem to blaze with the fire of the sun. His warleader smiles with approval, and in return shows Morgan the coins looted from the waterlord's tent. The mercenaries may have made this raid on principle, a rare thing for them, but their leader has made certain that they will still be paid for carrying out the desert's vengeance. Morgan grins back at his kyafk'i, pleased with himself and with the results of the raid.



Josef Morgan had awakened from the dream-memory, flush with adrenaline, and pulled himself upright in his bunk. He had placed his feet on the floor, and looked around the barracks room at the other Disavowed as they began to stir. The images from his sleep were fading quickly from Josef's memory, save for the last one, the image of his warleader smiling approval at Josef's discovery. It was not the image of Rattler, though, not the hardened old man with the silver hair and the empty black pit where once his left eye had been.

It was the face of Major Scott Duncan.


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PostPosted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 1:27 pm 
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D110 1800
Demeter
Snapshots

At 1800 on D 110, the residents and crew of Demeter were going about their business as usual…

Captain Inga Mueller was making the appropriate notations on the captain’s log, so it would be ready when Putz began his shift at the helm.

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Clive Brown was cleaning the fish tanks with Rusty MacConnell, one of his crew. They were careful to collect the algae, which would be used to supplement the chicken feed; the refuse would fertilize Gia’s herb and vegetable garden. For some reason he had a sudden image of Alicia “Mad Dog” Barker, his Viper-jockey lover, in a bathing suit during their interlude in the Catalina about two weeks ago. We’re due for some ‘us’ time again, baby, he thought lustily, and started to make plans…

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Buster McCormack was washing up for dinner, after loading the hay they’d received from Harvest Moon - blades of the stuff had gotten under his clothes, and they itched like the very devil. He was alone in the ample quarters prepared for the McCormack family: his wife Gia was preparing dinner, Zoe was with Ferdie and Hunt was at the Catalina. And Buster realized, with a start, that he - who had grown an orphan and who had prided himself on his independence and aloofness – no longer cared for being alone. The place was too silent without his wife and kids around.

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Rose “Thorny” Thorne-Schmidt was working with her assistant, Iolanda Wheaton, on a forklift whose transmission was stuck in reverse. Her husband, Helmut “Putz” Schmidt, was getting ready to take over the helm of Demeter while his cousin, Captain Inga Mueller, rested and spent some time with her family.

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And Ilka Mueller sat in her room, poring over the nursing books Ferdie had provided. Dr. Santana had taken over the Chiron, which was being re-fitted as a medical ship again. He would need nurses, including nurses-in-training, and Ilka was determined that she would be one of them.

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Last edited by Eaglestar51 on Fri Mar 02, 2007 10:17 pm, edited 3 times in total.

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PostPosted: Thu Mar 01, 2007 1:31 pm 
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Previously, on Battlestar Libra

Taurus CAG Office
Day 94

The two met at the corner of the desk and embraced. It was a long hug…and when Kevin saw Sabrina Watkins face again, the tears were rolling down her face.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again…Kevin I thought you were really gone forever.”

“It’s okay, it all worked out.” he paused “The Gods were looking out for me.”

They stood there for a few more minutes, holding each other. Finally, Sabrina looked at him and smiled “I need to get moving to Perseus” she paused “We can…need to talk more later.”

“Okay.” Captain Butler let go and made his way to the door to open it for her. They walked to her raptor…talking business the entire way.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taurus Port Ready Room
1800
Day 110

The Wild Angels were to have the evening CAP duties. They snapped to attention when Captain Kevin Butler entered the room.

"At ease and have a seat folks." Butler took the podium and opened up the folder he brought with him. "It's rather simple: CAP duties on our side of the fleet starting at 1900 and going to midnight. Regular patrol patterns with the alert fighters on standby."

He stepped off the podium and smiled "This is you last evening duty for a while. You will have daytime CAPs, but you have tomorrow off from flight. The first round of nuggets will be brought in tomorrow afternoon..."

The Angels as a whole let out a collective groan. Butler raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, I'll be there right with you. We need to get them to their bunks and get them familiar with the ship. The training squad and I will start their training the next day."

The CAG took a look around the now silent room "Any questions about patrol? No? Then finish your preflight checks and dismissed."

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


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