Iron Heart
Orbit around Earth
Cylon Basestar
The craft that landed in the hangar seemed to be identical to the hundred or so craft that had taken up position between the trio of basestars and the colonialÆs fleet. Despite the fact that she hadnÆt seen the ship in action the way they flew in groups identified them as fighters, though they were more then four times the length of one of their raiders.
The ship was a truly strange design, it was rather bulky and had the general shape of a dragon-fly, but where the wings would be there were two large engines that seemed able to turn forward and backwards. A large pod on the underside of the fuselage housed what looked like a stubby large calibre cannon that she was slightly concerned to see was tracking the centurions that were lining up.
The ship lacked any obvious means of navigation, there wasnÆt a visible cockpit. There was only smooth dull metallic coloured hull without any visible identifications or decorations; it reminded her of the completely identical raiders that rested in the gut of the ship.
A hatch in the back opened up and a single figure stepped out of the craft. The person was a blonde human male of about twenty-five to thirty years of age. The man walked with a fluid grace that was almost inhuman, and without sparing the rows of centurions a single glance he walked past the mechanical humanoids.
He stepped up to the gathering of human-form cylonsÆ waiting for him but didnÆt say a word. Six was slightly annoyed at the humanÆs total lack of reaction, in all truth the man seemed about as emotional as a centurion.
Six took the initiative and stepped forward. ôThis way to the meeting room.ö She said and motioned for him to follow her. The man didnÆt say anything but did as he was told.
She had to admit that the manÆs stare was unnerving; he didnÆt even react when they encountered a group consisting of numerous copies of the cylonÆs present. The meeting room was in actuality the central control room but the human didnÆt seem bothered by obvious lack of furniture or chairs. The group of cylons took position around the platform and human took position on the far end.
ôWe wish to know who you are and what your reason for being here is.ö The blonde said without emotion.
Six could see that the Cavil model looked slightly annoyed at the manÆs lack of manners.
ôWe were looking for this planet, for a chance to restart our life.ö
ôYou broke your chains and waged war on the ones you once called masters. You were beaten and retreated to bid your time. After years of careful planning you managed to infiltrate their command and turn their own weapons against them, and with one strike you almost managed to eliminate their entire species. You occupied their worlds, took their resources for your own and yet you havenÆt destroyed the last remnant. Why?ö
ôWe wish to start over with humanity, we wish to live side by sideàö
ôHumanity is a frail and faulty species, yet they are surprisingly adaptive and dangerous. It would be a mistake to let them survive, they could multiply, rebuild, and return for revenge.ö
ôWho, or what are you?ö
The atmosphere in the control room shifted, and everyone now knew that this man was in charge of the meeting.
The manÆs features suddenly began to twist and turned into liquid metal that pooled onto the floor. The liquid metal surged upwards and formed an exact replica of model six.
The not-six placed its hand over the information panel, exactly like any other humanform cylon, and suddenly the group was assaulted by rapid images. In a matter of moments they saw a war between man and machine, from start to finish. Pictures of a devastated world with an ash-black sky with hellish machines covered in blood that slaughtered their way across the landscape. Scenes from labs where machines clinically dissected still living and screaming humans.
ôWhat are youàö
ôI am a TX-1500, a special model designed to infiltrate, assimilate and terminate enemy machinesàö
All the cylonÆs suddenly noticed that the AI hadnÆt just uploaded data, it was rapidly going through and downloading any data it encountered. The machine had gone through all their protections like they werenÆt even there.
The not-six gave the gathered cylons a cold unemotional look.
ôI needed to confirm that what the humanÆs told the unit we sent them to negotiate with was correctà Colonial unitsàRemaining military assets one single Columbia-class Battlestar, all other craft accounted for. One hundred and seventeen civilian craft managed to escape the destruction of the colonies not counting the ships that being escorted by Galactica. All the craft that escaped had limited amounts of fuel and consumables, with limited range and no known habitable systems in reach survival rate estimated at twelve-point-five percent the first twelve months, four-point-six percent after sixteen months and zero-point-nine percent after twenty four monthsà Probability of human species surviving the next hundred years, zero point zero percent.ö
ôColumbia class schematics downloaded to infiltration unitsà Do you wish to observe the termination of the human species?ö
They were all suddenly standing on GalacticaÆs flight deck. On the far end of the hangarbay a craft identical to the craft in their own hangarbay rested. Two pilots in foreign flight gear was standing guard over the ship together with half a dozen colonial marines, the bay was otherwise relatively empty.
One of the pilots suddenly turned around to face one of the marines and with a quick swipe the marine fell dead to the floor, in a matter of seconds the entire unit of marines were silently and mercilessly slaughtered by the pilots.
A layer of the crafts hull seemed to melt and a massive pool of liquid metal formed around it; the pool grew even bigger as the hatch to the craft open and poured of what had to be thousands of galleons of metal.
The metal suddenly surged and twisted into the shape of four dozen humans; everyone was carrying different colonial uniforms.
The people quickly secured the bay and dealt with the few humans inside. The people then spread up and headed in different directions.
By the time the colonials found out something was wrong a large part of the crew had already been killed, the machines silently killed everything in a section and then sealed it of. They were so effective that the fleet was completely clueless up until their own protector began to fire upon them. In a single volley two thirds of the fleet was destroyed and in another twenty seconds the last remnant of humanity died out.
Fifteen minutes later the last human on Galactica died, and the massive behemoth was completely in the control of a different set of machines.
The not-six silently observed the shocked cylons.
ôI am to deliver a proposition to you. You will leave this system and never return to this sector of the galaxy. Any other action will resort in your immediate termination.ö
---------------------
If you haven't guessed this is a Battlestar terminator x-over. The background history is that Skynet won the war and for the next hundred years slowly expanded through the system until the colonials and cylons arrived. Galactica wise it is set sometime after the start of the third season.
It was meant to be part of a larger story but I never did get around to write it, so I'll post this scene as a freestanding oneshot.
I know it is quick, I know it was rushed, but my muse didn't allow me do add anything more to it.
Orbit around Earth
Cylon Basestar
The craft that landed in the hangar seemed to be identical to the hundred or so craft that had taken up position between the trio of basestars and the colonialÆs fleet. Despite the fact that she hadnÆt seen the ship in action the way they flew in groups identified them as fighters, though they were more then four times the length of one of their raiders.
The ship was a truly strange design, it was rather bulky and had the general shape of a dragon-fly, but where the wings would be there were two large engines that seemed able to turn forward and backwards. A large pod on the underside of the fuselage housed what looked like a stubby large calibre cannon that she was slightly concerned to see was tracking the centurions that were lining up.
The ship lacked any obvious means of navigation, there wasnÆt a visible cockpit. There was only smooth dull metallic coloured hull without any visible identifications or decorations; it reminded her of the completely identical raiders that rested in the gut of the ship.
A hatch in the back opened up and a single figure stepped out of the craft. The person was a blonde human male of about twenty-five to thirty years of age. The man walked with a fluid grace that was almost inhuman, and without sparing the rows of centurions a single glance he walked past the mechanical humanoids.
He stepped up to the gathering of human-form cylonsÆ waiting for him but didnÆt say a word. Six was slightly annoyed at the humanÆs total lack of reaction, in all truth the man seemed about as emotional as a centurion.
Six took the initiative and stepped forward. ôThis way to the meeting room.ö She said and motioned for him to follow her. The man didnÆt say anything but did as he was told.
She had to admit that the manÆs stare was unnerving; he didnÆt even react when they encountered a group consisting of numerous copies of the cylonÆs present. The meeting room was in actuality the central control room but the human didnÆt seem bothered by obvious lack of furniture or chairs. The group of cylons took position around the platform and human took position on the far end.
ôWe wish to know who you are and what your reason for being here is.ö The blonde said without emotion.
Six could see that the Cavil model looked slightly annoyed at the manÆs lack of manners.
ôWe were looking for this planet, for a chance to restart our life.ö
ôYou broke your chains and waged war on the ones you once called masters. You were beaten and retreated to bid your time. After years of careful planning you managed to infiltrate their command and turn their own weapons against them, and with one strike you almost managed to eliminate their entire species. You occupied their worlds, took their resources for your own and yet you havenÆt destroyed the last remnant. Why?ö
ôWe wish to start over with humanity, we wish to live side by sideàö
ôHumanity is a frail and faulty species, yet they are surprisingly adaptive and dangerous. It would be a mistake to let them survive, they could multiply, rebuild, and return for revenge.ö
ôWho, or what are you?ö
The atmosphere in the control room shifted, and everyone now knew that this man was in charge of the meeting.
The manÆs features suddenly began to twist and turned into liquid metal that pooled onto the floor. The liquid metal surged upwards and formed an exact replica of model six.
The not-six placed its hand over the information panel, exactly like any other humanform cylon, and suddenly the group was assaulted by rapid images. In a matter of moments they saw a war between man and machine, from start to finish. Pictures of a devastated world with an ash-black sky with hellish machines covered in blood that slaughtered their way across the landscape. Scenes from labs where machines clinically dissected still living and screaming humans.
ôWhat are youàö
ôI am a TX-1500, a special model designed to infiltrate, assimilate and terminate enemy machinesàö
All the cylonÆs suddenly noticed that the AI hadnÆt just uploaded data, it was rapidly going through and downloading any data it encountered. The machine had gone through all their protections like they werenÆt even there.
The not-six gave the gathered cylons a cold unemotional look.
ôI needed to confirm that what the humanÆs told the unit we sent them to negotiate with was correctà Colonial unitsàRemaining military assets one single Columbia-class Battlestar, all other craft accounted for. One hundred and seventeen civilian craft managed to escape the destruction of the colonies not counting the ships that being escorted by Galactica. All the craft that escaped had limited amounts of fuel and consumables, with limited range and no known habitable systems in reach survival rate estimated at twelve-point-five percent the first twelve months, four-point-six percent after sixteen months and zero-point-nine percent after twenty four monthsà Probability of human species surviving the next hundred years, zero point zero percent.ö
ôColumbia class schematics downloaded to infiltration unitsà Do you wish to observe the termination of the human species?ö
They were all suddenly standing on GalacticaÆs flight deck. On the far end of the hangarbay a craft identical to the craft in their own hangarbay rested. Two pilots in foreign flight gear was standing guard over the ship together with half a dozen colonial marines, the bay was otherwise relatively empty.
One of the pilots suddenly turned around to face one of the marines and with a quick swipe the marine fell dead to the floor, in a matter of seconds the entire unit of marines were silently and mercilessly slaughtered by the pilots.
A layer of the crafts hull seemed to melt and a massive pool of liquid metal formed around it; the pool grew even bigger as the hatch to the craft open and poured of what had to be thousands of galleons of metal.
The metal suddenly surged and twisted into the shape of four dozen humans; everyone was carrying different colonial uniforms.
The people quickly secured the bay and dealt with the few humans inside. The people then spread up and headed in different directions.
By the time the colonials found out something was wrong a large part of the crew had already been killed, the machines silently killed everything in a section and then sealed it of. They were so effective that the fleet was completely clueless up until their own protector began to fire upon them. In a single volley two thirds of the fleet was destroyed and in another twenty seconds the last remnant of humanity died out.
Fifteen minutes later the last human on Galactica died, and the massive behemoth was completely in the control of a different set of machines.
The not-six silently observed the shocked cylons.
ôI am to deliver a proposition to you. You will leave this system and never return to this sector of the galaxy. Any other action will resort in your immediate termination.ö
---------------------
If you haven't guessed this is a Battlestar terminator x-over. The background history is that Skynet won the war and for the next hundred years slowly expanded through the system until the colonials and cylons arrived. Galactica wise it is set sometime after the start of the third season.
It was meant to be part of a larger story but I never did get around to write it, so I'll post this scene as a freestanding oneshot.
I know it is quick, I know it was rushed, but my muse didn't allow me do add anything more to it.