startrek76

A spread of guided missiles fired from one of the Basestars closed the distance
in seconds between the alien vessel and the four Klingon warships headed toward
them. The missiles detonated against the shields of the starboard K-42 corvette.
Seconds later the Klingon ships wheeled smoothly and began their attack runs,
using their impulse engines to accelerate toward the enemy vessels; switching on
their cloaks and virtually disappearing from sight. Both basestars also began
belching out more of the pancake-raiders which quickly fanned out into a five
and six deep skirmish line between the base ships and the Enterprise and the
three Klingon ships. In a perfectly timed maneuver, the Klingons switched on
their warp generators for a few milliseconds and swept past the skirmish line
and the basestar and continued toward the main battle area.
Baltar, one-time member of the Council of Twelve, and now head executioner for
the Cylon Imperious Leader sprawled in his command chair on its raised dais. The
spot light that he used to intimidate his opponents by causing his face to be
hidden in deep shadows was switched off and the chamber was lit only by the
subdued illumination of the telescreen which was his one link to the outside
world.
On the screen was the real problem, the aliens who had appeared out of
nothingness to spoil yet another well laid trap for Adama and that thrice-damned
gaggle of old rust buckets and worn-out orbital trucks that Adama kept referring
to as a 'fleet'. Baltar ground his teeth in flustration as he thought of Adama
wiggling out of yet another perfectly executed trap.
Lucifer had brought him the results of the Cylon's sensor scans of the aliens.
The data was inconclusive, but it was also alarming. There were seven ships, one
was nearly as large as either a basestar or battlestar, and its neutrino
signature told of a power plant much more potent than anything Baltar had ever
heard of -- aside from a planetary power grid. The uncomfortable conclusion was
the aliens used matter/anti-matter reactions as a power supply, a technology
beyond either the Cylons or their Colonial enemies. Three of the remaining
vessels were under three hundred cubits in length and probably massed a tenth of
what the large ship did, yet they too had the same unmistakable hyperpower
emission signature. There were no detectable tachyon emissions, so their
stardrive was a mystery. Their weapons were potent, but thankfully not enough so
that a single shot could kill a basestar. They were smooth hulled and appeared
to possess some kind of elecctro-gravitic shield that was mpervious to the
particle weapons on the raiders sent against it. Much as he hated to admit it,
Adama and the 'fleet' would have to wait. These aliens must be destroyed, and
news of them brought back to Imperious Leader at once.
The main hatchway to his command chamber slid open noiselessly and Lucifer, his
IL-series executive officer, came in. The Cylon paused for a moment, executed a
stiff bow and said in an ironic tone: "By your command, Baltar."
"Speak."
"Our missiles were ineffective against the aliens. They have passed by with
hardly a notice of our fighters. Our fighters are continuing on to the largest
of the alien ships."
"Was there any indication that they penetrated our ambush-cloak?"
"No, Baltar, they continued on toward the Galactica and the two basestars
attacking it."
"Then perhaps we can find out if they are also shielded from a sneak attack in
the rear quadrant. Give orders to have our basestar pursue them. Fire a maximum
charge from our ion cannon when we are within range."
"By your command, Baltar..."



Onboard USS Fafnir, the battlestations klaxon shrieked. "Battle stations! All hands man your battle stations. This is no drill. Set Condition One throughout the ship. F-33 pilots: man your planes."

Sr. Lieutenant Kathy Komenous, the Fafnir's flight leader had been sitting in the cockpit of her F-33 with the NEID idling at half a percent total load. She looked over her shoulder to make sure the other three pilots of her tiny command were climbing into their fighters, and then returned her attention to her own F-33. Chief Sanders, her crew chief was busy overseeing the crew maneuvering Komenous's snub-fighter into one of the Fafnir's high velocity launch tubes. He turned to the cockpit as the crystal canopy slid shut and held
up his thumb.

"All clear forward and up, Lieutenant," Chief Sanders' voice whispered in Kathy's earpiece. "Clear for launch."

Lt. Komenous held up her thumb in the ages old pilot's acknowledgment as the reinforced crystal and transparent ceramic of the cockpit's canopy slid smoothly into its locking ring and sealed. Instantly, the cacophony of the hangar deck was totally gone to be replaced by the nearly subliminal rumble of the NEIDs as she revved them up toward launch velocity, and the subtle mumbling and bweeping of the F-33's computers. A quick scan of her instruments confirmed the launch authorization from the bridge. She adjusted the flight helmet's boom mic and said: "Flight Leader to Amarillo flight, report status."

"Amarillo one. Ready to launch."

"Amarillo two. Lets kick ass, el-tee."

"Amarillo three. And take a few names."

"Awrite, you clowns, lets be careful out there, I don't want to have to break-in a new set of maggots. LAUNCH!"

Simultaneously the four F-33 fighters slid out of their launch tubes into the void of interstellar space and ignited their ion drives accelerating away from Fafnir and toward the designated battle area at thirty gravities.



"Starbuck! Below you, coming up at your zed-green quadrant!" Apollo virtually
shouted into the helmet's microphone.

Off to Starbuck's port side, much too close for comfort, a Cylon TACNUC warhead detonated.

"I see 'em. Watch this." Starbuck stomped down on the right foot peddle, shoved the cyclic over and down hard and kicked in the combat thrusters; in an instant he released the foot control and pulled back sharply on the cyclic. The Viper's flight computer relayed the orders to the small interceptor's thrust vectorals and throttle - the result was Starbuck's Viper swung around in an impossibly tight arc and was on the tail of the Cylon who had nearly acquired target lock on him. Within seconds Starbuck's own targeting sensor reported a valid target solution for both lasers and missile weapons.

"That's it, baby, just a little closer ..." Starbuck purred as he gradually refined the target lock. He was just about to fire when two streams of laser pulses flashed over him. "Whaaa--?" Starbuck broke off his attack and swerved hard starboard and down fifty degrees. He kicked his combat thrusters to clear the area quickly. He had a sneaking suspicion he already knew what had happened....

Starbuck mashed down on the trigger-stud on the cyclic and automatically closed her eyes, so as not to be blinded by the flashes of the port and starboard turbolasers as they squirted out 250,000 megajoule laser pulses at the Cylon.

The laser streams both impacted on the upper rear deck of the Cylon, just behind the cockpit and in the midsts of the Tylium/vacuum intermix array. The raider's most vulnerable spot. The Cylon split apart like an overripe melon, spilling its innards into the void of interstellar space with a satisfying but totally silent Tylium explosion.

"Leah!" Lee Starbuck growled. "WHAT are YOU doing here?" Lee Starbuck glanced
out his portside and saw his twin sister's Viper swing up along side his. He could see that irritating grin even through her helmet faceplate, that smile of smug satisfaction she always got whenever she was able to best him at something.

Unfortunatly, Lee thought, she gets to use it far too often!

"Well, I'll say this," Apollo's voice chuckled in Leah Starbuck's headset. "You DO have style. You never do anything half way."

"Can't afford to," Leah quipped. "Only got one turn of the wheel."

"Howsabout we try to pick off the stragglers heading toward the alien. I'd like to see how their fighters perform against the Cylons."

"Good," Leah said. "I was just thinking the same thing. That one ship is as big as Galactica, they probably have a squadron or two of fighters out kicking Cylon ass!"

"Uuhhh, don't you think we'd be asking to get shot at too?" Lee asked.

"I don't think so ..." Apollo said. "We'll just hang back at the edges, picking off a Cylon or two and watch ... what'daja say, bro?"

"I dunno," the male half of the Starbuck team said, forced again into being the voice of reason. He absolutely hated it when his sister manuvered him into this position. "I've got a bad feeling about this..."

"Bawk! bbaaawwwkk!" Leah imitated a chicken as she ignited her combat thrusters for a spurt of acceleration.

"Oh shutup," Lee grumbled and followed the other two vipers burning toward the alien.


TO BE CONTINUED