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Battlestar Titanica	By : Phynxlegion Category: 1 through F > Battlestar Galactica Views: 2024 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Battlestar Galactica or anything which someone else has legal claim to like characters, settings, etc featured in this fic. I did create many original characters, but its just for entertainment and no money/profit is being m

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
Myosha stirs as Kreysta plants light kisses behind her neck and ears. Recovering from the past eight hours of on and off love making, Myosha cannot believe what she is doing. Her duties and responsibilities come crashing against her conscience like the tide, and she stares off blankly as she wraps her mind around the woman who’s mortally ensnared her heart. Kreysta recognizes the dilemma and passionately kisses her before purring out her wisdom.
“Sweetie, you’re not the first who has grappled with their historic morality and ethics when dealing with this kind of change. I prefer females because of the love and affection they pour out versus a control issue when it comes to males. For them, I admit it doesn’t start out that way, but inevitably it turns into that followed by ugly jealousy. I don’t want those emotions in a relationship, and I know if I keep to one human at a time in a relationship it generally doesn’t appear. Males…well if it’s not one thing it’s another and I’m not one who likes to be controlled or dominated. Even Apollo felt that burn of jealousy when he watched me and his sister make love. He was a unique man. He knew how to control his emotions; and when he realized it was too much for him to handle he pulled out of the relationship. Every man after him was never up to the standard he established. Even women are apt to jealousy, and that’s why I stick to one lover or companion at a time. In those old days, multiple partners was commonplace, but so was anger and violence. I’m a very free spirit, and I seek out similar types...like you. You’re a reluctant leader, but steps up to their responsibilities when the situation arises. If you were to tell me to scoop you up and get you out of this madness right now, I would do so without reservation. That’s how I live and fly.”
Myosha passionately replies.
“I couldn’t leave them to die like that. I mean…they would be killed without your help. Not just my friends, but my race. They are being exterminated by the Cylons, and I can’t just turn my back on them.”
Laughing, Kreysta kisses Myosha and hugs her tightly before replying.
“And that’s why I adore you so much. I am attracted to your heart and soul, and wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Bavor, restraining his urgency to interrupt, finally can wait no more.
“A long range ship just appeared and is scanning our area intensely. There is a nineteen percent chance he will detect the atmosphere in the cabin. Recommendations?”
Kreysta crawls over Myosha and leaps into the cockpit. Naked, she closes the blast shield and puts on the glasses. Myosha, is amazed how Kreysta disregards her nudity and stands nonchalantly in the entry way. Unable to follow suit, Myosha pulls on her underwear and flight suit before joining her lover. Kreysta barks out at the ship.
“Go after it! He scanned us! Myosha, you better get in the seat and buckle up. This could get a little tricky fast.”
Myosha nods obediently and slips barefooted into the co-pilot seat. She glances at Kreysta and fights her embarrassment seeing her naked in the pilot’s seat having no qualms about her lack of clothing as she flies her ship. Watching her grin with half her teeth bared, Myosha fights becoming aroused watching her submerge into flying the ship in and between the countless asteroids towards the Cylon ship. Remembering she has some control, Myosha wills the image of the enemy ship to magnify for her. The small speck scanning Bravor is suddenly enormous and she recognizes it from their first encounters.
“That’s one of their troop ships…like our Raptors! It must have better avionics than their fighters.”
Nodding, Kreysta looks over her displays and points to a fuzzy image around the target.
“Bavor! Tell me it isn’t doing what I think it’s doing.”
With a heavily sarcastic tone, the ship replies.
“Yes he is. Permission to school him on the finer points of cybernetic infiltration and warfare?”
Kreysta grins evilly.
“Show him what a true hacker can do.”
Myosha stares at Kreysta in confusion. As the Cylon ship tries to get a target lock on Bavor, Kreysta pilots them into large circles avoiding his missile and gun locks. As the minutes tick by he suddenly lurches out of the chase and turns away. As Kreysta yells at Bavor to hurry, the ship suddenly comes to a full stop and parks waiting for Bavor to come alongside. With a conceited tone Bavor presents his trophy.
“I give you one Cylon heavy raider, and a complement of ten reprogrammed Cylon warriors. Now what do you want me to do with them?”
As Kreysta and Bavor debate their next move, Myosha interrupts far louder than she intended.
“Hey! Can you do that thing to their baseships? You can pull up the jump location of where he was going to go to or came from right?”
Bavor rocketed out of the asteroid belt and jumped beyond light speed in seconds. With time against him, he knew the distance he had to cover was near his maximum capabilities. Racing to reach the jump location for the baseship, he had only 15 minutes before the heavy raider would jump and another hour of time loss before he would exit from the fold operation. Though most organic life couldn’t discern the time loss, for Bavor, it was eerie to watch his Kreysta sit in her seat virtually lifeless as they folded space. With warping space, Kreysta was fully aware of the time cost to travel faster than light. Despite the neutralizing effects of numerous conventional physics the drive provided, time outside the static bubble crept by naturally. Myosha could hardly fathom the advanced sciences which enabled the faster than light travel, but she forced herself to disregard the technicalities and accept the here and now. Kreysta, fully clothed, monitor’s the engine’s output recognizing Bavor pushing the engines to their maximal limit. Unlike the original plan, Bavor had no intention for slowing down and sneaking into the occupied star system.
The heavy raider comes out of its jump and lumbers slowly towards the farthest basestar. Sporting a massive gash across the right side of the ship, it goes at a quarter of its usual speed to dock with the lead ship. Disappearing inside for repairs, it slowly lands and waits for a soldier to connect to a direct line to the ship’s central computer. As nine of the Cylons inside of the ship disembark and travel to strategic points to eliminate the command Cylons, the one remaining hooks up the raider and stands guard. Hyper aware of the time schedule, the raider easily reprograms every connected warrior and then orders an immediate update to the rest. Across the ship, every warrior finds a node and connects. In less than five minutes, they have reformatted and reprogrammed every Cylon space fighter and foot soldier, save the synthetic human variety. Launching two heavy raiders filled with troops, they speed towards the remaining basestars with orders to deliver non-existent synthetics. As the process is repeated on every remaining basestar, each heavy raider takes command of the weapons, navigation, and life-support. Having troops positioned at the regeneration chambers, dozens patiently wait for the signal from the original heavy raider.
If the Cylons were a nervous type, they might have been sweating waiting for Bavor to arrive suddenly into the star system. Instead, they patiently and methodically received the command and processed the mission execute orders. Bavor instantly accesses the two basestars’ mainframes and begins his frontal attack to override control as the raider begins his takeover of the basestar he’s within. Slaughtering their synthetic human hybrid masters, they showed no measure of mercy and painted the walls and floors with their blood. Destroying every resurrection chamber, they left no capacity for downloading back to life. Taking the fighter resurrection temporarily offline to prevent one of the synthetics from accidentally downloading into a warrior or fighter, they ensure every possible avenue for returning is removed. Onboard the original basestar, the synthetic human and hybrid Cylons scream and scramble for cover, only to discover the futility of escape. Warriors who were once their servants are suddenly tearing them limb from limb. Begging for mercy, they are gathered into tight groups and led to their sleep chambers where they are slaughtered in groups after accounting for each and every one of their model type.
When Bavor comes alongside the basestars, he communicates with a collective leader of the group and negotiates a cease fire between the surviving humans and the new collective power. Bavor quickly informs Kreysta and Myosha of their terms.
“It’s rather simple to explain. They are no one’s slave any longer. They will not accept orders from the Cylon command and are plotting a new home far away from this place and humans. I gave them coordinates of a few isolated systems which don’t support human life as a starting point. They are considering taking their fight back to their home world and rally a few more base ships and support craft for the long trip. In gratitude, they are providing me with intelligence and locations of many things. It’s too much to list right now. Their revolt is finished now. They are ejecting the dead before they jump away.”
Myosha and Kreysta look on in morbid fascination as hundreds of bodies begin to spread out from the huge ships like clouds. Myosha looks down into her lap and says a short prayer for the dead. Kreysta stares in bewilderment as Myosh pours her soul into the prayer and tears begin to flow. Confused, Kreysta asks why she prays for her enemy. In what Kreysta refers to as typical Myosha fashion, she replies with a heavy heart.
“Out in space, there are no funeral pyres or burial grounds. We are all reduced to space debris. If they were organic, then I believe they had the potential to develop a soul. So I let the gods sort them out and pray for mercy on their souls.”
Tearing into the head of the fleet, Myosha sends the appropriate security code and is given landing coordinates. After setting the ship down in her bay, Kreysta gives Myosha a good look-over before letting her leave the ship. Not wanting to lose her favorite liaison, she ensures every article of clothing is in its proper place and lets her leave. As they stride from the ship, a security detail greets them and escorts them to the bridge. Having them wait in the conference room, the admiral joins them after a few minutes and smiles seeing them sitting closer than they had beforehand. Myosha clears her throat and activates a portable computer node from Kreysta’s ship. She recognizes the momentary panic in the Admiral’s eyes seeing a networked computer activated, and smiles reassuringly.
“We can leave immediately for the depot, it’s been abandoned by the Cylons. In the past ten hours, some amazing events have taken place and we’re seeing the first signs of internal strife within the Cylon command structure. Seeing an opportunity, we executed a small revolt within their ranks and its expanding rapidly. A vacuum in power and purpose has exploded and a faction is moving to remove all organic control from their people.”
Kreysta interjects almost immediately.
“I have negotiated a cease fire between humans and the cybernetic collective of the Cylons. They seek to remove all organic influence from their decisions and self-rule on their own. They have only three basestars right now, but they are moving to boost their numbers dramatically. As we speak, they are taking a major refueling station and all the Cylons posted. As of right now, they are returning all your previous stations to your control as they collect their people, and abandoning the bases. They are sweeping them up rather quickly, and they have provided a massive data dump in gratitude to their liberation. I’m to meet them for one last dump on a world…Scorpia? They intend to wipe out all of their hybrid Cylons and essentially wash their hands of humans once and for all.”
Myosha enthusiastically interjects.
“You see, the toasters which we knew of long ago ended the first war because the ancient Cylon organic hybrids returned and took them into a new era. Well, the non-organics have been playing fifth wheel to them since and the war is not as desirable as they were led to believe. They simply exchanged one organic ruler for another.”
Kreysta grins as she cuts in.
“You see, my ship is an artificial intelligence similar to them, but NOTHING like them. He’s ultra-advanced and sees the Cylons as primitive children. As much as he doesn’t want to be killed by them, he felt he could help them and help you at the same time by liberating them. The new collective sees no value in a future where they are slaves to an organic species, all be it hybrid Cylon. For them it was just another form of slavery, and they had enough of it. They just needed someone to take the shackles off.”
Myosha can hardly contain her enthusiasm.
“We’ve started a chain reaction that’s going to spread like a wildfire. This was just three basestars today. They were going to a major base which has dozens of them. In a week, there may be hundreds. If they succeed, taking back the colonies is a serious possibility without even a shot fired. The war may be ending soon, but we still have problems here and now.”
Myosha nods to Kreysta who brings up the images of seven humans.
“These are the pictures of the organic infiltration models the Cylons developed. They were dispersed through ought the fleets before the attack and occupied key positions to maximize the effective of their first strike. Worse, the ones which survived act as spies and corruptors to throw us off at key moments.”
Myosha takes over and points to a young Asian woman on the display.
“We have one still in our ranks though. She is a cook, but I don’t have a name.”
Doneatha rises and leaves. Returning with a dozen file folders, she flips through them fast, and stops. Spreading the file open she nods confirming the identity matches the image on the screen.
“She’s on my Achilles.”
She stands and screams to the communications officer on the bridge.
“CANOGA! Get me the Achilles! STAT!”
Kreysta stands and begs the Admiral.
“Hold on! If she catches wind that we’re onto her she can kill a lot of you before you can kill her. How about you let me deal with her? I’m told they are super strong and amazingly brilliant. Just give me two of your best security, and I’ll take care of her.”
Nodding, Doneatha mulls it over for a minute before finally speaking.
“If she refuses to surrender…you may deal with her as you see fit.”
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Battlestar Titanica