Shadows Gambit - part 2
<leatherknight@hotmail.com>Mike</a>
Athena and Backis sat under the cover of jungle brush watching the activity down in the Cylon landing field. In the last few centars, several processing stations had been erected and many centurions were going about the task of setting up a mining installation.
"Looks like they need raw materials," said Backis.
"That's why they haven't come out en mass to find us," Athena nodded. She took the micro-binoculars from Backis and stared down at the growing operation. Her gaze fell on a blue robed, thin figure with a swirl of lights dancing in the transparent dome of its head. The face plate and hands of the IL series Cylon were a deep midnight blue, in contrast to the metallic cobalt blue and silver weave of his robes.
"I'll be spaced," Athena murmured.
"What?" asked Backis.
"It looks like the Command Cylon is down there in person," Athena said, passing the micro-binoculars back.
"What?" Backis snatched the binoculars and put them to his eyes, scanning the field.
"Where is he?"
"Down by the supply dump," Athena said.
Backis adjusted his view and finally smiled. "Got him." He read the range on the top of the display. "If we were a hundred metrons closer, I could take him out."
"Don't even think about it," Athena said sharply. "We need to get clear of here as fast as we can. Once they're done setting everything up down there, they're gonna be all over this place looking for us!"
Backis looked at her, and then back at his would be target and sighed.
"I could make that shot, too," he said.
"I don't doubt it," Athena replied. "But not this time. Come on."
She rose and went over to the survival pod. "Let's get this thing and get out of here."
"You're the boss, Boss" Backis said. Athena smiled.
"Don't you forget it," she said with a wry smile.
The two of them continued deeper into the dense jungle.
As they traveled through the thick foliage, the fading sunlight began to darken at a quicker pace, and Athena heard the tell-tale signs of another storm brewing as thunder rolled off in the distance.
"Oh, great," she said.
"We're gonna need to stop for the night soon anyway," Backis replied. "Might as well start looking."
In the end, they found something that showed promise. Half way down another short hill, they found a mound with an opening, half covered by thick, vine like growths.
Backis removed the mirror smooth bayonet from one of their stolen Cylon rifles, and cleared the opening, peeking inside with a portable lamp.
"This looks interesting," he said. "Almost as if someone constructed a dwelling here?"
"Maybe someone did?" Suggested Athena.
Backis looked about the floor at the dirt and grime, watching as several insectile creatures scurried away from the encroaching light.
"Perhaps," he said. "But no one has been here for a long, long time."
He stepped up into the entrance and vanished.
After a few microns of silence, Athena poked her head in.
"Well?" she asked.
"Boss?" Backis said from within. "I think you want to come in here."
Athena suppressed a shudder. There was a haunted tone in Backis's voice.
"What is it?" she asked, pulling her own lamp out and shining the harsh white beam into the place.
She stood inside a rather large room, with thick tangles of creeping growth hanging off to her left. The unkempt vines snaked half way across the dusty floor before stopping. A second cluster of vines tumbled through an opening in the roof, looking like a column of thick tangled weeds. An eerie sensation of familiarity began to crawl through her, bringing goose
bumps to the surface of her flesh.
She stepped further into the place and heard the familiar sound of her boot on a metal floor. Looking down, she used her foot to brush aside the thin layer of grime to reveal the textured, metallic surface beneath. Her eyes and light quickly panned all around at the corners, walls, ceiling, and her mouth fell open as the shock built.
"Tell me I'm not insane," she said breathlessly.
"If you are," said Backis. "Then my brain is no better than stale mushy."
Athena stepped past the column of growth in the center of the room and walked along the far wall, seeing the familiar protuberances that indicated overhead storage compartments.
"This is an ancient colonial shuttle," she finally gasped. Only then did she actually believe it.
She quickly reached for the Cylon rifle on her shoulder and began scything through the thick vines at the front of the wreck.
"What are you doing?" Backis asked.
Athena didn't here him. She hacked away at the plant life choking the pilot's station, pulling and throwing the cut vines out of her way.
"Give me a hand here," she said earnestly.
Backis stepped up and began hacking away on the other side.
"There's a reason for this, right?" he asked.
She nodded, but said nothing as she cut her way deeper and deeper into the front of the ship. As she reached the pilots seat, she slipped and fell to
the floor, her eyes rising to the decayed and crumbling shape of an old uniform boot. The long, dark gray shin bone protruding up from within the garment, and vanishing into the rest of the foliage.
"Whoa!" she squealed as she scrambled back, her breath coming in startled heaves.
"What?" Backis asked.
"He's still there," Athena said quickly.
"Who's still where?"
"The pilot." Athena continued.
"Pilot?" Backis asked.
Athena fought her racing heart back down. "He's still sitting at the controls."
Backis nodded and began cutting over by Athena's side. He proceeded a bit more slowly now, being careful not to go too far, too fast.
"Maybe he's still waiting for launch clearance," Backis said with a wry smile.
Eventually, Athena rejoined him, and they cleared the debris away. Backis was the one to reveal the pilots' face, a fleshless, time grayed skull, with a slack-hanging jawbone.
"Hello there," he said to the bones.
Athena looked over in the direction and saw the skull, lying back on the top of the seat, the eye sockets seeming to stare right at her. She swallowed, forcing back all the childhood fears that came racing to the surface. After a while longer, Backis had managed to clear the entire area,
revealing only the hollowed bones of a body, with a few tattered bits of ancient fabric clinging to them.
"How long do you think he's been here?" Athena asked nervously.
Backis looked down at the bones and shrugged.
"A very long time," he said. "My guess would be, centuries." He gestured to the cut vines and plants that now littered the floor behind them.
"Between the plants, and the fact that all the organic components of the interior are gone." He said. Then he gestured to where the viewports used to be. "Plus the time it would take for the vegetation to crack through the transparent tylinium, "I'd venture a guess at three, maybe four hundred yahren. Could be more." He shrugged. "Nagon's the history buff in the squadron. He'd be going orbital if he were here right now."
As an afterthought, Backis rubbed his chin. "I wonder which ship he was from?"
The two of them continued working, slowly clearing all the vines from the cockpit area, and even opening a few spots to allow the fading light in.
With the cut vines, they concealed the entrance and the rest of the ship as best they could, before settling in for the next wave of violent storms.
Backis cleared the area under the circular opening and prepared a small fire, which chased the shadows out of the chamber, revealing even more detail.
"I wonder if we can get into the cargo hold?" Athena asked after a long pause, listening to the raindrops as they pelted the roof.
"I wonder if there even is a cargo hold," Backis replied. He munched silently on a dried ration bar, his eyes focused on the top of the dead pilot. That one question was still rampaging through his mind.
"Which ship are you from?" he whispered again quietly, almost hoping the skeletal form would rise and turn to face them.
"What was that?" Athena asked from the other side of the room.
Backis said nothing, his eyes fixed intently on the bones.
In a sudden convulsion of movement, he sprang to his feet and stepped quickly over to the skeleton. His eyes scanned the surface of the bones, and then the grimy, surface behind them as he slowly sank to a crouching position, his hand coming up to rub his chin in thought.
"What are you doing?" Athena asked.
Backis pointed at the bony occupant of the seat.
"He was a warrior, or at the very least a commissioned pilot, yes?" He asked.
Athena shrugged. "I would assume so."
"Then unless he was a chronic nudist," Backis continued. "Or a ship thief, we could safely assume he was in uniform when the ship was in flight."
Again Athena nodded, a confused look on her face. "Sure."
Backis looked at the skull for a long micron, and then stood up, standing close to the body.
"Excuse me," he said to the fleshless face, and he began pulling the body, from the seat, bone by bone.
"BACKIS!" Athena hissed in horror. "What in Hades are you doing?"
"He's dead, Athena," Backis said without looking up. "I don't think he'll mind."
Athena opened her mouth to speak, but found no words. She simply stared as Backis quickly removed the remnants of the body. That task complete, he took out his portable lamp, and then fell on all fours, scrabbling in the dirt beneath the pilot seat, the powerful lamp beam giving the ground under the seat to shimmer with garish white light.
"Would you mind telling me what you're doing?" Athena asked as her gaze shifted nervously from where her partner knelt behind the seat, then back to the human remains on the floor.
She started slightly when Backis let out a cry of triumph. He shuffled back and rose to his knees with two blackened lumps resting in the palm of his hand.
Athena frowned. "What are those?"
"The only part of a uniform that won't disintegrate," Backis replied. He smiled broadly, and then tapped the lieutenants' insignia on the collar of his uniform. "Rank and ship insignia."
"Ah," Athena said with a smile growing across her face. "So which ship was he from?"
Backis looked down at the dirt encrusted pieces.
He stared at them for a micron, rubbing some of the dirt off with his fingers and then sighed.
"I have no idea." He finally admitted. He slipped the dirty pins into the inner pocket of his jacket and looked over at the pile of bones on the floor.
After a few microns, he looked up at Athena.
"I think it's time to see what our shiny friends are doing," he said. He got to his feet and grabbed one of the Cylon rifles, checking the power level.
"Shall we?" he asked.
Athena blinked. Backis quirky shifts were tough to follow. It was a side of him she had never seen before. His focus seemed to be slipping the longer he stayed out of the cockpit.
"You okay, Backis?" She asked.
"Yeah," Backis replied. "I'm fine." Then he stopped. "I'm getting a little jittery, aren't I?" he asked.
"Yeah," said Athena.
Her nervousness must have shown, because Backis let out a sigh, and forced himself to take a deep breath.
"Don't worry, Boss," he reassured her. "I haven't really slept since we landed, and it's making me a little punchy."
"A little punchy?" Athena repeated. One dark eyebrow rose slightly.
"Okay, fine," Backis said. "A LOT punchy, okay?"
Athena nodded.
"I'll try to keep level," Backis continued. "Shall we go?"
Athena grabbed another of the rifles and the micro binoculars, and followed Backis out into the slowing rain.
The rainwater felt cool on her face, driving the warm humidity away from her as she felt it soaking into her hair and clothes. It also succeeded in rinsing away some of the dirt and grime that stained her uniform and face. As they walked, she stopped in front of a small puddle and scooped several handfuls of water up, rinsing her face off.
Her hair hung past her face in wet strands, and she quickly tried to tie it back into a ponytail.
"You look beautiful, Boss," Backis said a little impatiently. "Let's go."
Shadow strolled through the newly constructed command center on the surface, the moisture from the outside atmosphere shimmering on the transparent dome of his head.
Beyond the shelter of the self-erecting structure, he could see silver centurions moving to and fro across the main area, preparing to initiate the mining systems.
As he watched, the Golden, gleaming form of Kadal strode towards him.
"Report," Shadow said, once the giant centurion stood before him.
Rivulets of water rolled down the massive golden frame. The red eye sensor bounced back and forth in the visor of the helmet.
"Something interesting within the first drill shaft," Kadal droned. "An unusually rich deposit of raw tylinium."
"Indeed?" Shadow asked. "Have samples been brought to the surface for analysis?"
"Affirmative," Kadal droned. "The results were rather interesting."
"How so?" Shadow asked.
"The primary base material had manufactured properties," Kadal continued dutifully. "An inspection team was sent to the site to verify the findings."
"Yes?"
Kadal hesitated for several microns, as if his processors were unsure of how to respond.
"I really think you should see the results yourself," he finally suggested.
Shadow looked out past Kadal's massive golden shoulder, watching the falling rain.
If his metallic face could have shifted to a grimace, it would have.
"Oh, very well," he said, his voice laced thickly with disgust.
Shadow followed his second in command through the mud and rain to the primary dig site at the base of a low ridge. The sonic cutters had done a marvelous job slicing into the living rock and opening a circular tunnel almost eight metrons in diameter. From within, Shadow could see the dull yellow glow of the recently installed service lights.
A single centurion sat at the controls of a hauler. From the front of the haul, a thick, silvery cable extended, vanishing into the shadows of the tunnel.
As Shadow watched, he could see a silhouette moving closer to the entrance, attached to the other end of the cable. As it passed between the lights, Shadow stood perfectly still, the falling rain, no longer distracting him.
At the opposite end of the cable, being dragged along the tunnel floor like the decreped remains of a fallen bird, were the remains of a ship. A ship that was distinctly Colonial in design.
"Well, well," Shadow mused. He stepped forward into the tunnel, staring at the ship as it slid across the rocky ground. Kadal stood behind him.
"That is not the only thing we have found," Kadal droned. His voice echoed in the confines of the tunnel.
Shadow turned and looked up at his lieutenant.
"There's more?" he asked.
"At the back end of the tunnel," Kadal droned.
Shadow turned and strode carefully down the tunnel to what appeared to be an opening into a larger chamber.
He stepped through and came to a halt. The chamber was enormous in size.
The floor of it was unusually smooth for a natural rock formation. As he watched several centurions hung more of the garish lights in the place.
Instead of affixing the lights to the bedrock, however, the lights were begin hung on ancient cross girders, and support pylons. Dusty and corroded wall plates and ancient sealed hatchways.
Shadow stared up at the tiny stalactite like growths that had just taken hold in the roughly angular ceiling.
Shadow knew, without having to confirm anything, that he was standing in the remains of an ancient ship. An ancient Colonial ship.
"Contact the Base Ship," Kadal instructed. "Tell them to do an intense sensor sweep of the area. I want the results ready for me when I arrive."
"By your command," Kadal droned.
Shadow turned and saw the tumbled pile of slowly fusing stone, about forty metrons further into what was obviously a landing bay.
"Furthermore," he said. "I want you to continue excavating this site, but salvage and process only the remains of smaller, fighter size vehicles. Do NOT process a single bolt from the superstructure."
Again Kadal droned. "By your command." The giant golden centurion turned and strode away, leaving Shadow to his own musings.
"I wonder which ship this is?" he asked.
Colonel Jodas sat motionless staring up at Captain Milesar, his face unreadable. A half-full glass of ambrosia resting in his fingers.
"No," he finally said.
"What?" Milesar couldn't believe his ears.
Jodas shook his head, setting the glass down on his desk. "I can appreciate what you're offering, but the answer has to be, no."
"Colonel," Milesar continued. "Rega had the best piloting score of the squadron. He's the best candidate to pilot the extra ship!"
"I understand that," Jodas nodded.
"Then let me take a group of Raptors out there and bring our people back!"
Milesar fought to control his temper, but nearly two days of nothing except waiting was wearing thin on him. "We blast in, Rega and I land. Athena and Backis grab one ship, and Rega jumps back in with me! Quick and simple!" He watched Jodas's stony face for a few microns longer, waiting for an answer.
When it appeared that none was forthcoming he finally exploded.
"Dammit, Colonel! Those are my people out there!"
"Check that, Captain!" Jodas barked loudly. His eyes took on a darker hue.
Milesar stood still, forcing his anger down with several deep breaths.
"I can appreciate how you feel, Captain," Jodas said. "I don't think I have to remind you that each of you are also one of MY people."
"Sir," Milesar started.
"Shut up, Captain!" Jodas bellowed. "You have a job to do! That job is to protect this fleet until other options are presented. Am I clear?"
Defeated, Milesar nodded.
"AM I CLEAR?" Jodas repeated loudly.
Milesar straightened to attention. "Yes, Colonel!" he barked, only this time his answer was filled with contempt.
"Get your butt out of my office," Jodas growled.
Milesar turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.
His anger and frustration carried his feet in the direction of the launching bay. As he entered, he watched the lights dim, signaling the bay being brought to stand by mode. Several techs moved towards the ready room, clearly finished with their duty period.
He was about to turn back when he caught a quick movement from the shadows on the other side of the bay.
His eyes narrowed as he fought to see the figure in the deepening gloom.He finally caught the sillouhette of a man dressed in a warrior's uniform, moving towards the holding area for the Black Raptor's ships. A second figure followed a few microns behind, checking over his shoulder as he followed.
"What are you two up to?" Milesar asked in a whisper. He drew his laser and set it for stun. Then he slowly made his way towards the ships from the opposite direction.
The two culprits stood on the boarding ladder that extended from the bottom of the Raptor's fuselage. They seemed to be trying to familiarize themselves with the controls, speaking in quick, quiet whispers.
Milesar eased up behind and below the two men, his laser pointed at their backs. Once he was set, he clicked off the safety of the weapon.
"Stay perfectly still, gentlemen," he said in a low growl.
"Frack," Starbuck mouthed, his eyes closing. He and Apollo froze, suspended above the hanger floor, with one hand holding onto the side of the Raptor's cockpit, and one foot each on the small rungs of the boarding ladders.
Slowly he and Apollo turned to face their captor. When the man below saw them, his mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.
"Captain Apollo? Lieutenant Starbuck?" He stammered. "What in the seven moons do you two think you're doing?"
"Uh, just looking," Starbuck said quickly.
"Really?" Milesar let his weapon drop back into its holster, while his eyes fell on the flight helmet each of them held in their hands. He looked over at Apollo.
"Just a little harmless window shopping, right?"
"Yeah," Apollo said. However, expression on his face and the irrefutable evidence of the helmets, gave the entire scheme away.
Milesar let a smile touch the corners of his mouth. "Checking out the differences in the control circuitry? Comparing it to the Viper's setup? That sort of thing?"
"Yeah," Starbuck said quickly, as he dropped down to the floor. "That's it exactly."
"It's not like you were going to steal one and take it for a joy ride, or anything?" Milesar continued.
Apollo and Starbuck froze for a micron at that, and gave Milesar the confirmation he needed.
"Planning a little test flight, were we?" he asked.
"Uh," Starbuck stammered.
"We were," said Apollo. He looked down at Starbuck and let himself drop to the floor. "Two ships, one pilot each, land, pick them up and get out." He confessed.
Milesar smiled. "Great minds think alike," he thought.
"Well," Apollo said with a sigh. "So much for that plan." He moved to leave, but Milesar held up his hand.
"Well," he began. "For one thing, you need to look at the right ships." He gestured for the two would-be thieves to follow him.
The two ships he led them to sat patiently, a few stalls back. The major difference between these two ships, and the others, was that these two, along with the pair next to them, were set up with a large, oblong external fuel cell. It hung like an ancient bomb, between the rear landing gear.
Milesar's voice took on the air of a tour guide, adding to Apollo and Starbuck's confusion.
"With the external drop tanks," he explained. "You'll have even more fuel for extended voyages." He sighed. "However, it reduces your total load of missiles by two."
He dropped the access steps from the fuselage and hit the switch to open the canopies. Then he faced Apollo and Starbuck.
"Now," he asked. "What do you need to know?"
"Scuse me?" Starbuck stammered.
"What do you need to know?" Milesar repeated. When neither warrior spoke, Milesar continued.
"I just finished going round and round with Colonel Jodas on this, proposing the same plan. He refused, and if I were to do what you two are planning, I'd be open to a court marshal. If you two do it, then I'm off the hook, and neither of you ever knew that Jodas ordered all the Raptors
held to ground because you're not in the squadron." His eyebrows rose slightly.
A smile began to spread across Starbucks face. "I get it," he said.
"Apollo and I high tail it outta here, and you go someplace where you won't be missed.
"Exactly," Milesar replied. He stepped up between them, and then ducked under the nose, dropping the second set of access rungs down, and climbed up.
Starbuck and Apollo clambered back up across from the Black Raptor Captain.
"Okay," Milesar began. "In a nutshell, here it is." And he quickly took them through the control systems and specs of the Raptor.
After a centar straight, Apollo and Starbuck were reeling as they tried to sort through the data.
"You got all that?" Milesar asked, looking at the two thieves.
"Uh, sure," Starbuck said, his eyes moving rapidly over the semi familiar controls. "No problem."
Milesar favored the Lieutenant with a sardonic look. "No problem, huh?" he asked.
Apollo looked nervously towards the lift car, and access hatches, fearful that they would be discovered.
"Captain?" Milesar continued.
"I got most of it," Apollo confessed. "I'll learn the rest as I go."
Milesar nodded. "At least your honest." He dropped down and stowed the access ladder. Apollo did the same, while Starbuck climbed into the forward seat of the Raptor, slipping his helmet over his head.
Milesar helped Apollo get settled in the other ship.
"Why are you helping us, anyway?" Apollo asked.
"Because your sister is one of my people," Milesar said. "If it wasn't you, then I'd be doing the exact same thing you are right now." He looked over at Starbuck. "I'd just be doing it alone. At least you have a partner you can trust."
"And that's why?" Apollo asked.
"Partially," Milesar answered, as a smile crept across his face. "Also because I know that Starbuck'll do this, with or without my input. And you're just crazy enough to do it with him."
He patted Apollo's shoulder. "Keep the throttles at quarter power until you reach the launch point, then, push to full. Don't use the turbos or the lift will slam you right into the top of the launch bay."
Apollo gave him a thumbs up and settled back into the cockpit.
"Give me five centons to get clear, then fire up the starter unit, the rest is academic."
"Thanks, Milesar," Apollo said.
Milesar patted Apollo's shoulder once more, and then dropped to the floor, moving quickly and quietly away from the two, soon-to-be-stolen ships.
End Part 2