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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
- 14
- 15
- 16
Disrupting the tranquility of space, a fiery orb blinks into existence and remains cohesively still for several seconds until it just as suddenly bursts outwards. In moments the fires extinguish as they are stretched outwards from the center leaving behind Kreysta’s ship sitting motionless in orbit around Picon.
Bursting through the morning fog, Bavor scans the area for Cylons and sets down on the outskirts of the village. After changing and slipping on a pair of boots, she retreats to the rear of the ship. Stopping at the hatch she looks around nervously and finally gazes across at a sealed panel.
“Bavor? I know I promised I would never ask this of you but…”
The panel suddenly unlocks and slides up into the wall. Bavor replies in his typical even voice.
“Kray? In this situation even I would use them. These Cylons are exactly why I keep them, and I know you would never use them frivolously. Go bring her back.”
Reaching into the panel, she extracts a tiny star-shaped device and sets it in the center of her outstretched hand. She waits patiently until it starts glowing rhythmically with her own hearts. After a few seconds, the device begins tumbling and churning in her palm and amazingly begins to grow geometrically until it encompasses her entire lower arm. Resembling a gauntlet, it vibrates with energy and moves easily like a tight surgical glove. As she turns to exit, Bavor asks numbly.
“Why are you not using all five? The armor-mode would easily deflect any of their weapons.”
With a weighted sigh, she begins scaling the ladder and speaks over her shoulder.
“Simply? I am not going to war against them. I am on a rescue mission, saving one individual, not assaulting a fortress or cutting through swaths of troops. You only scanned twelve of their warrior machines and one small transport hidden on a far island, so this will only be small-scale. I imagine the second human you scanned is the synthetic. If she is not safe and sound…well, you will know if she is not.”
Striding into the village, she listens to Bavor guide her to the area where the Cylons lay hidden to ambush her. Using a ladder to the top of the roof, she sneaks through an access door and discovers three of the killing machines standing just inside the room looking out the window. Leveling her hand at their backs, she spreads her fingers and releases a silent burst from the glove. Like a wave through water, the ripples in the air strike them and they seem to power down and collapse to the floor. Smoke seeps from their chests and heads; and with the first group destroyed, Kreysta heads back onto the roof and leaps across adjoining rooves until she reaches the next nest of Cylons.
With no access door into the house, she finds the open window and scoops a handful of loose pebbles scattered on the roof. Leaning over the edge of the roof, she tosses one pebble into the window. Patiently she waits until she hears the warriors begin to move around to investigate the disturbance. Intently, she discerns their movements and launches the remaining pebbles onto window sill. With an evil grin she hears all three of them move to the window to investigate. Centering on the roof towards the window, she take a few steps backwards and levels the glove at their approximate location. Adjusting her finger spacing, she releases another burst of energy towards the roof, and it passes effortlessly through the wood and tar structure and strikes the Cylons. Hearing multiple crashes, she launches herself from the roof to a nearby house with a window wide open. Rolling to a stop, she stands and dusts off before using the stairs to reach the ground level.
It takes Kreysta a minute to find the back entrance to the market, especially when most of the remaining Cylons were waiting there. Extending one finger, she points at the lock. Immediately a fiery red beam shoots out from her finger and cuts around where the lock extends into the door frame. In seconds, she quietly pulls the door open, catching the wedge from the door frame in her hand as it tumbles free. After pulling the door closed behind her she runs into a pair of Cylons guarding the door to the basement. As the ones before them, she pushes out a wave of energy immobilizing and deactivating the robots. The noise from them collapsing brings the remainder towards her firing, and she sends out one last burst which abruptly ends the shootout. Receiving the all-clear from Bavor, she descends the flight of stairs and navigates the refrigerated corridors. Sensing them towards the rear, she finds Myosha stuffed in a shipping crate. As she starts to leap towards her, the synthetic human-Cylon steps out from behind a crate leveling a pistol at her lover.
“Oh! If you want her dead, please continue.”
Kreysta bites back her anger.
“Leave her be. This is between us, not her.”
Unlatching the cage, she kicks the cage open and orders Myosha to step out. Stiff and racked with pain, Myosha obeys the woman, only to feel her neck grabbed from behind. The painful grip causes her to lean backwards in agony. Kreysta nearly launches herself at the woman, only to be reminded of the weapon trained on Myosha.
“NO-NO! So the rumors were true, you do have a soft spot for her. Interesting. Who and what are you really?”
Looking for a better angle, Kreysta begins working around her while talking.
“I’m Kreystakavonikaloka of the Twelfth Tribe of Uberstakonk. My people are priests, warriors, explorers, scholars, and artisans. We do not seek conflict, only to avoid it. It is bad for trade and business. I am leaving this place, and all I want to do is take her away with me and never return here.”
Nodding, she looks down as she holsters her weapon. As she starts to push Myosha towards her she suddenly sends her fist into Myosha’s back. A grotesque cracking sound erupts and Kreysta screams out a deafening roar as Myosha collapses limp to the ground emitting a silent scream on her face. The walls vibrate erratically and the roar carries out beyond the confines of the walls and structure. Reflexively the synthetic Cylon darts for the service elevator with her hands cupping her ears, sealing the door behind her as she pants in terror.
With tears streaming from her eyes, she reaches Myosha and kneels at her side. Fearful to even touch the horrific wound, she carefully straightens out the twisted limbs she lies upon and brings her to a more natural pose on the floor. With Kreysta’s body shaking uncontrollably, she cannot bring any words out of her mouth suitable for the sight.
As Myosha’s conciseness wains, she struggles to breathe and whispers out her last loving thought.
“It’s okay…it doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m okay here. You know what? I wish I had taken you up on that trip to your place. This war crap fracking sucks. I think I’m going to take a little nap now.”
Sobbing, Kreysta nods and rises to her feet. Going around the Myosha’s right side, she returns to her knees and leans over. Sliding her hands over Myosha’s eyes, she forces her lover to close them and keeps her hand over them. With her grip firmly across Myosgha’s eyes, she open’s her mouth wider than any human should and a pair of long fangs extends out from the top row of teeth. Before she sinks them into Myosha’s carotid artery, she hoarsely whispers to her one last time.
“This will help you sleep my love.”
With a heavy punch, she buries the fangs into the soft supple neck she had grown accustomed to kissing at every private opportunity. The sides of Kreysta’s neck pulse rhythmically as she pumps venom into her lover. Myosha futilely tries to lift her body against Kreysta’s hold, only to become deathly still after a few moments. Retracting her fangs, she holds Myosha’s head tenderly for several minutes to ensure she completely succumbed to her venom and after licking the wounds on her neck to stop the bleeding. Setting her head on the ground, she stands and turns towards the stairs she entered from. Letting out a second rage-filled roar, she spends a minute spraying from her mouth a fine mist over her lover’s body to deter scavengers, insects, and rats. With hate filling her heart, she exits the building and takes a deep draught of air. Turning towards the direction the Cylon ran, she releases a monstrous roar to let the vile creature know she is on her scent.
The Asian Cylon begins to quake in fear as the roars of the monster reach her hiding place on the beach. Screaming for the heavy raider to pick her up, she turns in time to see the ship appear on the horizon. Pacing nervously, she drops the communicator when the ship inexplicably explodes a mile away. Rising from the water, Bavor brazenly admits he is responsible for the ship’s destruction and turns towards the Cylon. Running aimlessly, she glances over her shoulder as catches a glimpse of Kreysta walking her direction from the village. A deep menacing voice roars to her, making her double her pace.
“This is not over!”
After running a mile she glances back and cannot see Kreysta or her ship any longer. Slowing, she breathes deeply looking for where they might come at her. A movement high above catches her attention, and she nearly collapses in fear. Soaring down towards her, a massive beast suddenly slows its descent and lands a hundred feet from her. Covered in coarse green scales and a long tail, the beast’s is easily seventy-five feet long from head to tail. With a neck only just shorter than the tail, the great winged serpent resembles the nightmares from long ago legends. Watching her scramble towards a heavy grove of trees, the dragon releases a cone fire engulfing the forest around the Cylon. The heat makes her run towards the ocean, only to see the very protective water erupt with flames from the Dragon’s breath. Trapping her on the beach, it seethes at its prey. Collapsing to her knees, the synthetic Cylon grovels pointlessly as it lands yards from where she kneels. Kreysta flips her tail angrily from left to right as she speaks.
“I don’t know how you came back or downloaded her previous database, but I’m going to make you truly suffer now! I have at least fourteen to thirty-six hours until anyone interrupts us. I’ll teach you to leave me alone this time. I am that thing which fears no one and which everyone fears that lives in the darkness. I wander eternity and bring horror to those who make me their enemy; and you have become my enemy, child!”


On the Cylon baseship orbiting Caprica, a pair of Asian Cylons hawk over a recent arrival through downloading. As she sleeps, the two shrug as their sister is returned to full sleep-stasis.
“This is the one we were warned about a week ago. We were told she was becoming unstable and not to resurrect her. The system automatically froze her, and purged her download afterwards.”
The other girl nods and turns away.
“She must have been pretty delusional to warrant this kind of isolation. It is for the best I guess.”
Leaving, the pair disappears down the corridor while the woman silently suffers eternal torment reliving the horrors from her previously final twenty-one hours.
Leaving Myosha’s side as the rescue shuttles circle overhead, she directs them to a clearing to land and beckons them to their downed officer. With her eyes reddened from hours of crying, she tells them how the Cylon struck her and how she believed her lover’s back was severely broken. Trying to calm her, they retrieve a long stretcher and a number of kits. Knowing it was best for them to take over, Kreysta paces nervously and represses her tears as they take readings and begin assembling the back board. Even Kreysta is amazed that they are as gentle as they are getting her carefully onto the board and securing her for transport. Following them out, she jumps into her ship after Myosha s secured and leads them safely off the planet.
Siting in the medical bay, Kreysta had refused to leave Myosha’s side as she laid in a coma since the team had recovered her. After two hours, the doctor brought Kreysta into her office; Kreysta stares worriedly at her unconscious partner, determined not to give up on her. Through the doctor’s window, Kreysta ignores the doctor as she clears her throat making wild grasps at Kreysta’s attention.
“Myosha’s back is broken at key vertebrae, and her spinal cord is certainly damaged, if not severed all together. Her blood work shows an unknown substance in her system. Her body is metabolizing it and should be completely clear by tomorrow if the rate remains the same. What bit her?”
Kreysta takes a ragged breath and lets it slip out loosely.
“I did. My species have unique capabilities, and all of us have some form of venom still. The venom is as unique to us as fingerprints are to yours, both in composition and effect. For me, the venom is a powerful antiviral and antibiotic in one; and in sufficient quantities it can put species into a chemically induced coma. I knew if she moved around, she could cause further damage to herself so I took it upon myself to immobilize her. She will wake in a day or so, far better than you can imagine. Unfortunately, I cannot heal her type of damage. It is beyond my capabilities here. If I can get her to my home, my people have the technology to work miracles in less complicated species like yourselves, but that’s a long way to travel for you.”
A knock at the doctor’s door ends the conversation and the admiral’s voice asks for the doctor to give her a minute with Kreysta.
Sitting down in front of her, she notices Kreysta never takes her eyes off Myosha. Despite the differences in their species, the pain written on her face was unmistakable. After realizing she wasn’t going to acknowledge her, Doneatha begins.
“I’m sorry. The doctor tells me there is little hope for her ever walking again.”
Without releasing her gaze on Myosha, Kreysta speaks distantly.
“That’s not why you are here, is it?”
Shaking her head, she inhales sharply.
“No. Instead I am suffocated with the realization everyone almost died two days ago, if it weren’t for you.”
Kreysta turns abruptly.
“I have no idea what you are talking about! I folded away before those two basestars arrived, and your sensors prove that! I would never and can never get involved in a foreign war. Like it or not, we all have rules and laws we are held accountable for, no matter how far from home we are. I have no idea how those two ships blew up, and will not entertain the idea I had anything to do with that.”
Defensively, Doneatha backs away and nods dramatically.
“OKAY! You had nothing to do with that. I got it. Yet I’m still racked with a decision that I find difficult to make. And I have to ask if your offer was still on the table from the previous evening? Can you help us escape this chaos for good?”
Kreysta nods and turns back to Myosha. Over her shoulder she replies.
“It is. I will deposit you in a safe area and I will walk you through the formal request for sanctuary. They will request all your historical databases be turned over, all your logs and mine, as I will be sponsoring you. This is how it has always been, and change…real change…takes time. My people have been doing it this way for millennia and it has worked. Can I offer a bit of advice? You need to ask every single person to commit to this; there can be no turning back, and no dissention on your decision. Everyone must approve it, and there can be no changing your minds afterwards. You can offer to leave behind your best ship and equipment, but I suggest taking this ship. Its fold drive is in superb condition and can be made to hold the most people possible. It will take me about a week to network my systems with yours and about a week to do the same for each of your ships you take with you. The fewer ships you take the better. I also suggest only taking one destroyer and a cargo ship. This will supply you with rudimentary defense and resupply capabilities. Finding a world to move you to will take but a few days, but the sanctuary request will takes a few weeks. Take as much food as possible; plan for six weeks total."
Doneatha mulls over her figures and nods.
“We have that right now plus another twelve months in both preserved meat and vegetables, but not in water.”
Nodding Kreysta returns her gaze back on Myosha and continues.
“Water will not be an issue. We have planets of just water, but having food is essential. If you show up with those amounts of supplies, they are very open to take you in as war refugees. It will take a while to plant emergency crops, find equivalent food sources, and develop hydroponics.”
Kreysta silently watches a nurse takes reading from Myosha and feels an intense pain.
“I saw several major groupings of survivors on a couple of planets I scanned. If we can grab them, and all the farm implements and seed you can scrounge while I rig your ships for the trip, you can have a serious chance for success.”
Doneatha nods and begins taking notes on a nearby clip board.
“Give me a working list of things you need from me.”
- 14
- 15
- 16
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Battlestar Titanica