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Subject: BG vs Big E (Part II)
Message-ID: <3391@umn-d-ub.D.UMN.EDU>
From: enielsen@umn-d-ub.D.UMN.EDU (eric nielsen)
Date: 27 Apr 90 21:21:31 GMT
Reply-To: enielsen@ub.d.umn.edu.UUCP (eric nielsen)
Organization: University of Minnesota, Duluth
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From umn-d-ub!rutgers!cs.utexas.edu!mailrus!iuvax!noose.ecn.purdue.edu!mentor.cc.purdue.edu!sku Mon Apr 23 11:14:36 CDT 1990
Article 44490 of rec.arts.startrek:
Path: umn-d-ub!rutgers!cs.utexas.edu!mailrus!iuvax!noose.ecn.purdue.edu!mentor.cc.purdue.edu!sku
>From: sku@mentor.cc.purdue.edu (Jeff Standish)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.startrek
Subject: Galactica and Enterprise, part 2
Message-ID: <9960@mentor.cc.purdue.edu>
Date: 21 Apr 90 20:57:50 GMT
Reply-To: sku@mentor.cc.purdue.edu (Jeff Standish)
Organization: Purdue University
Lines: 572


Well, what with the overwhelming response I received over part one of
story, (and no flames!  gasp!)  I wrote part 2.  However, due to its
size, there is also a part 3 as well.  Screwy networking aside, it
should follow this immediately.

Thanks for all of the interesting comments and ideas you sent me, even
for the many people whom I have not had the opportunity to respond to.
Some ideas were great, some were not, and some were just plain strange
(Though I did get a kick over the one with Starbuck, Deanna, and the
holodeck.  Sorry, but I'll save that one for alt.sex.startrek).

Since the story was so liked (something I certainly did not expect),
I took the additional effort of some proof reading, something that I
did not do on part one.  Yes, those of you who did not believe me, it
was writen straight through with 0% editing.  Hope the effort paid off
to your additional enjoyment.

And now, _Galactica and Enterprise_, part 2.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

   The transparent doors slid open with the sound of diamonds across
glass, admitting the IL series robot into the command chamber.  It
glided forward until it came to rest in the circle of light before the
tall pedestal that was the room's only feature.  Bowing, it spoke the
ritualistic words, "By your command," and waited.  A barely
determinable acceleration of the flashing lights that composed the
interior of its visible brain being the only sign of its impatience
with its leader.
   Finally, the chair on the top of the pedestal turned to face the
robot, revealing the figure at the top.  With oily black hair, a rat-
like face, and an expanding waist-line, the figure was quite
definitely human.
   Looking down at the Cylon robot, Baltar commanded, "Speak."
   "The assault force has been launched and is on its way towards
the Human fleet."
   "Very good!" enthused Baltar, clapping his hands together in
expectation of the fulfillment of his dreams.  "Now that the Imperious
Leader has seen fit to give me two more basestars, Lucifer, Adama will
be wiped out of existence!"
   Lucifer only bowed once again in response.  It did not point out
the obvious fact that on several previous occasions, additional might
had little effect on the Human fleet.  Nor the equally obvious fact
that once the Humans were finally exterminated, Baltar would himself
be terminated -- a fact that the power-hungry Human seemed incapable
of acknowledging.
   "Once the attack force has engaged the Galactica's defenses,
bring the basestars in close enough that we might personally watch
Adama die with his pitiful fleet."  Baltar's face lit up with glee at
the thought of the death of his hated enemy, Adama.  When the
Galactica was finally destroyed, the Imperious Leader would award him
with an entire star system!  Baltar sat back with a sigh, considering
the fulfillment of all of his mad dreams of power.
   Lucifer, however, interrupted Baltar's fantasies with, "Is that
wise?  What if the Humans are able to overwhelm our forces?"
   "Impossible!" Baltar growled, angry that this mere Cylon construct
would dare to question his strategies or prevent him from witnessing
the death of Adama.  "This time they will not resist me.  They will
not have a second battlestar to save them this time.  I can _feel_ it.
Fate is with me.  Adama will be destroyed today."
   "Fate, Baltar?" uttered Lucifer dubiously.  This Human refused to
accept his own fate at the hands of the Cylons.  How could he truly
comprehend fate?
   "You are nothing but a soulless machine, Lucifer.  You cannot
understand the concept of fate.  And fate will see to it that justice
is finally served on Adama for his crimes against me...  And of course
the Cylon Empire, as well.  Now go and see to it that my commands are
fulfilled!"
   "By your command," intoned Lucifer, bowing and gliding backwards
away from the throne.  It did not point out that it had already
relayed Baltar's orders.  Nor did Lucifer point out that it had a
soul.  After careful study of the abstract concept of a soul,
Lucifer had constructed one for itself, one which was housed in
Lucifer's right shoulder.

   From the Enterprise's bridge, Adama listened to Tigh report that
all viper squadrons had been launched to intercept the incoming wave
of Cylon raiders.  "From the size of that force, there must be at
least three basestars hiding out there," Tigh commented.
   "Counting in excess of seven hundred small fighters approaching,
Sir," Worf reported to Picard.  "The Galactica's vipers are
outnumbered by a factor of four."
   "Surely they cannot withstand that size of a force," Riker
considered aloud.
   "We've done so before," Apollo provided.  "Their fighters are no
match for our vipers on an individual basis.  So they must rely on
overwhelming force.  Unusually, blasting away a significant part of
their forces is sufficient to drive them off."
   "That hardly sounds like the mindless killing machines you
described," Picard commented.
   "It isn't.  Fortunately, Baltar is a coward," Apollo added half
to himself.
   "Is Baltar the name of the Cylon commander?" queried Riker.
   "Baltar is the one traitor who is responsible for the destruction
of our home worlds," Adama broke in, his rage somewhat getting the
better of him at the mention of Baltar's name.
   "You mean to say that one of your own people is the reason that
your home worlds were destroyed?" Deanna prompted, detecting the rage
that burned in the Commander.  "But why would this Baltar do such a
thing?"
   "For power and glory."  Adama clenched one fist tightly behind
his back.  "Baltar was promised more riches than his corrupt mind
could dream of to sell away the fate of his own race."
   "And he is in command of the forces that seek to destroy you?"
Picard surmised with some disbelief.  "But you said that the Cylons
are committed to the extermination of your people."
   "Exactly so," Apollo confirmed.
   "The Cylons are using Baltar because he is Human, and can
therefore consider what we would do better than any Cylon could.
However, Baltar is too conceited to accept that the Cylons will kill
him when they are finished with him.  He sees nothing but the dream of
power that they have promised him." Adama looked back to the screen.
   "The two strike forces are closing on one another.  Five minutes
until engagement," Worf reported.
   Turning to face Picard, Adama bluntly put forth, "Will you help
us?"
   "Would assistance be permitted by the Prime Directive?" Data
considered.
   "What 'Prime Directive?'" Apollo demanded, not liking the
android's choice of words.
   "It is the highest law of the Federation governing interaction
with other civilizations," produced Picard.  "In essence it prevents
us from doing anything to interfere in the development of other
races."
   "You're saying that your laws allow you to just stand by and
permit massacres?" asked Starbuck from where he stood near Worf,
observing the Klingon's tactical display of the closing forces.  The
thought that these people had the power to help them, yet might
refuse to do so, appalled him.  That thought was also echoed by Apollo
and Adama.
   "The Prime Directive has, in the past, required that we permit
such events to occur," confirmed Data.
   "However," Picard allowed, raising one hand, "I do not believe
that the Prime Directive applies in this situation.  The
development of your people is not at question, since your
technology is on a level approximating that of many of the more
developed worlds in the Federation.
   "Besides, it might be arguable that we would be granting your
fleet political asylum from the Cylons.  In any case, I believe that
we can allow your fleet the full protection of the Federation, even
though the Enterprise is the only Federation vessel in this sector."
   "Then you will fight the Cylon's with us?" Starbuck sought to
clarify.  Political workings did not interest this flighty young
fighter pilot.
   "Only as a last resort," forestalled Picard.
   At this, Starbuck slammed his fist down on the bridge railing in
frustration, while Adama's visage grew darker.
   "I still maintain that it might be possible to obtain peace.
Especially if those ships are under the command of a Human," said
Picard hopefully.  To him, war was to be avoided at any cost.  If
there was a chance to settle this conflict peacefully, he would try it
if at all possible.
   Adama groaned inwardly.  "You have dealt with neither the Cylons
nor Baltar."
   "If you try to deal with them peacefully, you might never have
the opportunity to deal with them or anyone else again," added
Apollo.  Had they travelled all this distance, only to find that
their brothers had the power to fight off the Cylons, yet refused to
use it?
   "That is yet to be seen," returned Picard.  "Ensign Crusher,
bring us even with the Galactica's strike force.  Mr. Worf, try and
contact the Cylon forces."
   "You will find that you have no choice but to attack," Adama
bespoke from painful experience.
   "Nevertheless, engage!"

   Sheba kept her eyes locked to the scanner screen set into the
control panel of her viper.  The wall of Cylon attack craft bearing
down on them was so thick that the screen could not resolve all of
them, presenting only a thick fuzzy line on the graphic display.
Sheba's own squadron, the Silver Spar, along with the Galactican
squadrons, were spread out widely over space, a maneuver which not
only allowed all vipers the opportunity to open fire when the instant
presented itself, but also permitted the vipers to keep as much space
between themselves as possible so as to make themselves more difficult
to hit.  However, the Cylon formation was much thicker, the raiders
held the tight groups of threes, that mystical number with which the
Cylons seemed to have such a fascination.
   At any micron the two forces would be close enough to open fire.
For that moment Sheba waited with a combination of anticipation and
dread, knowing that not only would she have the chance to begin
obliterating the Cylon fighters, but that they too would have the
opportunity to destroy her in a single, silent burst of light and
energy.  But the fear held no sway with her.  This rapidly approaching
moment would provide her with yet another chance to prove herself, to
show to her father, if only he were here.  And also a chance at
vengeance for what the Cylons had done to Commander Cain.  Or had not
done, if what Count Iblis had once said -- that Cain, her father,
still lived.
   But these thoughts existed only in the small dark corner in the
back of her brain where they were swept to when battle approached,
though at other times they had free reign to run rampant though her
awareness.  Perhaps the only blessing that these much too frequent
skirmishes and battles with the Cylons allowed was for Sheba to be
freed from the conscious thoughts that weighed all too heavily on her.
   Now with her complete conscious awareness focused on the
approaching Cylon hoard, Sheba was only partially aware of the
commands she issued to the battle hardened veterans of her squadron,
keeping the colonial fighters from drifting too close together or from
staggering too much the wall their vipers formed.
   Then the moment came and she barked out the command to open fire
and engage the ever so hated enemy.  A command that might have been
heard by everyone in the squadron, but scantly heeded by all but a
few.  These pilots had little need to be told when to engage.  Only a
few of the untrained cadets had not learned to feel when the moment
arrived, to know exactly when to fire.
   As it was, the vipers opened up fire almost simultaneously,
generating a wall of devastating light and energy that under other
circumstances would likely have been termed beautiful, or even
magnificent.  The icy-looking bolts of vicious death burst and
exploded in the Cylon ranks, having passed a like wall of deadly
energy from the Cylon ships that was even now exploding in the lose
formation of vipers.  Already lives where ending horribly, vaporized
or rent apart by explosions.
   The formation of vipers broke as the agile little ships spun and
"dove" in the directionless void.  The two walls of fighters seemed to
collapse upon one another.  Individually, the vipers quite clearly had
the advantage of greater speed, ability, and the strong sense of
individualism that was such an incomprehensible concept to the Cylon
centurions piloting their raiders.
   Indeed, the idea of the importance of the individual was one of the
greatest motivations behind the Cylon's desire to stamp out humanity.
To the Cylon way of existence, it was the unity of the race that
mattered.  The single Cylon lacked the ability to think on his own.
Only the higher ranking members of their race, the "nobility" if you
will, with their second brain had the capacity for individual thought.
But even these "nobles" were incapable of fully autonomous action, for
they still required the guidance of their Imperious Leader, who --
with his enlarged head housing its three brains -- was able to access
the accumulated learning and wisdom of the Cylon way that had been
gathered by his predecessors which permitted him to make the decisions
that ultimately guided the Cylon Empire.
   But even so, the colonial vipers were still overwhelmed by the
sheer number of Cylon craft that they engaged.  So when Bojay's voice
crackled over the speaker in Sheba's craft, distorted by the massive
amounts of energy ripping though the fabric of space in the area of
the battle, saying in near glee, "It's the Earth ship, they're moving
into a position to help us against these raiders!" part of Sheba's
mind accepted this knowledge with joy.
   So the thirteenth tribe was going to help them against the Cylon's!
But still, this information was met with a rather inherent bit of
natural pessimism.  What good would a single starship do against Cylon
fighters?  She had taken a close look at the information that the
Galactica's sensor's had gathered about the Earth ship.  Granted, its
weapon systems might just be superior to what the fleet had, but the
Enterprise totally lacked any small batteries capable of tracking
darting fighters like what the Cylons flew.  Would they be so foolish
as to attempt to use their main weapons systems on the raiders?
   Sheba almost said as much aloud to Bojay, but instead used that
prescious moment to warn Brie away from a trio of raiders that were
trying to get in a position behind the younger pilot's viper.

   The bridge crew watched in near silence at the spectacle depicted
on the main view screen.  Even though the void of space, they imaged
that they could hear the explosions of Cylon fighter craft, feel the
brief flash of pain that the pilot of a stricken viper might or might
not have felt in the fraction of a moment before he died.  At least
most of those on the bridge imaged that they could feel it -- for the
empathic Deanna Troi, the pain of the death of each pilot was all too
real.  Even her normal resistance to others' emotions was overtaxed.
   "Still no response from the Cylon craft, Sir."
   At this none-too surprising revelation, Picard almost heaved a vast
sigh.  He had no wish to do this, but to pause even an instant longer
would mean the deaths of even more of the Human pilots defending their
precious fleet.  Perhaps if they could make a powerful enough display
to the Cylon craft, the bat-like fighters would retreat, as Apollo had
implied that they would.
   "All right then, Mr. Worf.  Target all phaser banks on those Cylon
craft near the edge of the battle.  Try not to get too close to the
vipers.  Fire at your discretion."
   Worf's fingers positively danced across his control panel, moving
like the fingers of a master pianist on his beloved instrument.
Warning alarms sounded on the bridge and in other parts of the
Enterprise that were involved in the control of the weapon systems.
On the massive view screen, beams of incandescent energy darted
towards the raging battle, simultaneously accompanied on the
Enterprise by the distinct sounds of the discharge of the main
phasers, as well as on the other end of the phaser bolt by the
detonation of a Cylon raider.
   More bolts of energy stabbed seemingly at random towards the
fighting craft, as Worf triggered various automatic firing sequences,
though always keeping as much of the aiming under his own control as
he could: A good warrior (and by extension, a good Klingon) never
fully trusted a computer to do all of the fighting for him.  Not only
did a computer lack the inherent instincts of an organic being, but
for a Klingon such an action brought no honor.  Therefore, many of the
energy beams blasted a darting fighter out of existence.  However,
many more did not.  For all of the Enterprise's complexity and Worf's
natural talent, the sudden twisting of a Cylon craft could easily
cause a shot to go wide.
   Even so, the Enterprise made its presence known to the Cylon craft,
even if the fighters chose to ignore all hailing.  Phasers in the
hands of a Klingon are not easily ignored.  In minutes, swarms of
Cylon craft broke off from the battle with the colonial vipers,
turning, not to flee, but rather to attack the Enterprise.  Thus, the
pressure on the viper pilots decreased, though by no means was it
completely dismissed.
   At least a third of the attacking Cylons turned their red-eyed
attention to the Enterprise, darting their saucer-like craft in wide
pin-wheel attacks that brought their energy cannons to bear on the
Enterprise's powerful deflector shields.
   "How long can the shields hold up to this pounding?" Riker inquired
from Data, since even with the shields, the decking was beginning to
shudder even so slightly as a particularly concerted barrage of energy
struck the Enterprise.  On the upper level of the bridge, Worf worked
furiously at the controls of the tactical station, guiding the aiming
of the phaser banks.
   "At the current intensity of the assault, our shields will
withstand twelve point four minutes of this.  However, the number of
Cylon fighters attacking us is decreasing."  This observation was
rather pointedly demonstrated as a raider detonated almost squarely in
the center of the view screen.  "Without reinforcements, the fighter
craft will be destroyed before our shields buckle."
   Adama was fairly impressed by this statement.  There must be nearly
two hundred raiders out there delivering the combined might of their
energy cannons on the Enterprise.  The Enterprise's shields were
certainly more powerful than those on the Galactica.  Even though he
did not know how long a 'minute' was, he could gauge from readouts how
long the raiders should last at the rate the Enterprise was blasting
yet another raider every few moments.  If this starship had been
constructed with anti-fighter weaponry as the Galactica had, then the
raiders would be disappearing at a much greater rate.  Besides, such
weapons were vastly superior at targeting small, rapidly moving
objects.  As thick as this swarm of Cylon fighters was, the
Galactica's smaller weapons would hardly even miss, whereas the main
batteries of the Enterprise were continuing to discharge in rapid-fire
succession, hitting a raider at most in two out of five shots.
   Data continued a stream of reports for the benefit of the crew of
the Enterprise -- as well as the Galacticans -- who were mostly just
standing around, having absolutely nothing to do.  Unable to do
anything to help, they were forced to rely on Worf's masterful
manipulation of the targeting controls.
   Meanwhile, the vipers were also gaining ground.  Though their loses
were worse than usual, and the Enterprise was no longer lending its
big guns to this massive dog-fight, the rugged fighter pilots were
making a solid show of themselves.  What with the raiders that had
turned their attention to the Enterprise, and those that had already
been reduced to space dust and radiation, the vipers were no longer
outnumbered by a factor of four, but by less than two to one.  And
though they were still outnumbered, the Cylons no longer had the
numerical advantage that they needed to easily overpower the viper
squadrons.
   However, the growing opinion that the Cylons would soon flee was
shot down when Data announced, "Three ships of unidentified origin are
closing on our position."
   Apollo surmised, "Basestars," even before the image three huge
warships appeared on the viewer.  Slowly rotating, the basestars
looked for all the universe like spinning tops.
   "Are they on an intercept course?" Riker demanded.  These basestars
looked to Riker as though they were battle stations, rather than star
ships.  Part of him wondered if he wouldn't rather be facing Romulan
battle cruisers.
   But fortunately, Data responded, "Negative, Sir.  For the moment
they appear to simply be observing the battle."
   "Baltar is gloating."  Adama seethed, remembering the time that he
had had his hands wrapped around that traitor's thought.  If only
Apollo had not stopped him from dealing out justice that day!
   "Will they attack?"
   Adama responded to Picard's question.  "Not likely.  Ship to ship
battle is something we seldom engage in.  But do not take that to mean
that those ships are not powerful.  Three basestars like those were
enough to destroy the Twelve Colonies."
   "Do we attempt to make contact?"  Riker posed that question
hopefully.  Picard was right, attacking _those_ ships would not be
wise.
   "By all means, Number One.  Better to try for peace and fail, than
to never try at all."
   "You waste your time."  Apollo glared at the balding Captain.
Perhaps his bravery had fallen out with his hair?  "You should strike
now before they have fully realized what is happening."

   "By your command."
   Those words cut though Baltar's lustful dreams of power like a
finely focused laser.  Spinning his command chair around to glare down
at Lucifer's bowing form, the greasy Human would have sworn that the
robot's face had been constructed with a permanent smirk.  Irritated,
he growled out, "Speak."
   "We are within scanner range of the battle."
   Baltar's mood executed an about-face, a smile of great satisfaction
replacing his irritated frown, as he boasted, "Excellent.  Our
fighters must have crushed Adama's pitiful vipers by now.  Ohhh, but
to finally witness the destruction of Adama and that disgusting, rag-
tag fleet of his."
   Lucifer's glowing eyes slowed down in their flashing movement back
and forth in the robot's eye-slits.  "That statement is premature."
   "And just what is that supposed to mean?"
   "The Human fleet is not alone.  They are accompanied by a starship
of unidentifiable classification.  This starship is assisting in the
battle, which is currently going against our fighters."
   "What?"  Baltar's cried of anguish and frustration was nearly an
octave higher than normal.
   Ignoring Baltar's irrationality, Lucifer continued, "The commanders
are recommending that we withdraw our forces."
   "Withdraw?!?  That cowardice is the reason that your race has never
been able to destroy the Humans until they received my help.  Without
me, Adama and his fleet of battlestars would probably have smashed the
Cylon Capitol worlds by now!  How powerful can a single ship be?
Those fighters should have enough power to destroy a entire fleet!"
   Long accustomed to Baltar's flashes of ranting, Lucifer waited in
dutiful silence until the Human had paused before once again
continuing.  "This starship possessed weapons and defenses greater
than our own, and in excess of ninety percent of its crew is composed
of Humans."
   For the moment Baltar had no bellowing retort.  Instead, he merely
echoed the word "Human" in a questioning voice slightly louder than a
whisper.  "Can it be?  Could they have finally found it?"
   At a loss of comprehension in Baltar's behavior -- disbelief? --
Lucifer probed, "Can what be?  What is 'it?'"
   "Earth," Baltar hissed in awe.  "Has Adama finally found the lost
tribe?"
   "Our records indicate that Earth is only a myth among Humans.  You
yourself have indicated that this is so."
   "It is.  Or should be.  We have never found a trace of it.  Not a
single bit of information to indicate that it truly existed.  I
thought it was nothing more than an ideal that Adama bred to keep
himself in power."  Power.  The mere utterance of that word started
thoughts racing across Baltar's deranged mind.  Plans, schemes, plots
of deceit and control -- and of course of power, personal power for
Baltar, domination of worlds, even of vast star systems.  If he could
hand the thirteenth tribe of humanity over to the Imperious Leader,
then surely Baltar would be rewarded with whatever he desired.
Perhaps it would even give him the chance to take control of the Cylon
Empire itself...
   Recognizing that Baltar's thoughts had strayed away from the
subject at hand, Lucifer prompted, "Do you give the order for the
fighters to withdraw?"
   "This Earth ship -- you say that it is powerful.  Could it stand
against the might of these basestars?"
   "Unknown.  We do not have enough information about this starship."
   "Could we capture it?"  Think of the prize it would make!  Baltar's
dreams soared even higher.
   Then Lucifer received a new report over those of its circuits that
were interfaced with the basestar's massive computer network.  "The
unidentified starship is attempting to make contact with us."

   "The one of the basestars has open a frequency."
   "Very good, Mr. Data.  On screen."
   The view of the assaulting raiders was replaced by a dark chamber
of indeterminate size, adorned with but a single throne mounted on a
tall pedestal.  Seated on the throne was a rather repulsive looking
Human wearing the relaxed comfort of a king in his citadel and the
smile of one who had at his command all he wished.
   "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship
Enterprise.  What is the meaning of..."
   "Greetings, Captain," drawled out Baltar, cutting off Picard in
mid-sentence.  "I am Baltar.
   "I see that you have the leaders of these criminals with you.  I
would suggest that you restrain them before they are able to subvert
your crew."
   Thrown off balance by not only Baltar's words but also by one of
the more powerful tremors to rock his ship, Picard was unable to
respond immediately.  There were still about a hundred of the Cylon
raiders pounding away at the Enterprise, whose shields continued to
decay under the onslaught.
   "Criminals?  You are the one who should be executed for your..."
   "Silence, daggit!"  Baltar's face slid back into its look of easy
control.  "These people are escaped prisoners, Captain Picard.  Their
crimes against the Empire are uncountable.  I strongly suggest that
you have them locked up immediately, before they are able to gain
control of your ship."
   "You say they are criminals.  What proof do you have of this?"
Picard demanded of Baltar.
   "Their crimes against the Empire belie belief.  They have destroyed
a science installation on a research asteroid, murdered many civilians
on the planet Gomoray, the destruction of a fueling base on the same
planet, the destruction of hundreds of our fighters, not to mention
the destruction of no less than four basestars, and the near
assassination if His Imperious Leader...  Need I continue Captain?"
   "No, I believe your point is made.  Now, if you will call off your
fighters, we can discuss this rather more civilly."
   "I do not believe that we dare do that.  These criminals have
escaped us on too many occasions.  I will not allow that chance to
occur again.  You will withdraw your ship from the area of combat
where it will not be attacked further.  I will dispatch some shuttle
craft to dock with your ship to collect these criminals immediately."
   "Allow me a moment to make my decision."  Picard motioned to Data
to cut the transmission.
   "Surely you cannot believe his lies?" Apollo uttered in disbelief
of Picard's reaction.
   Picard only gave Troi an inquiring glance.
   "I sensed that the list of 'crimes' which Baltar spoke of actually
occurred.  They were not lies."
   "Those were acts of war," Adama assured him.  "We did nothing that
was not required to survive."
   "Including the murder of civilians?" Picard inquired strongly.
   That was not so easy to rationalize away.  Adama did not even try
to do so.  "We have been hounded across half this galaxy.  The Cylons
seek nothing less than our complete 'extermination.'  Baltar is only
trying to deceive you as he did us when he wrought the annihilation of
our home worlds."
   "Adama is correct," Troi put in before this argument grew more
heated.  "While Baltar was not actually lying, I could sense that he
is attempting to deceive you.  When he mentioned dispatching shuttles
to pick up Adama, I could sense extreme levels of deception."
   "No doubt his 'shuttles' would be filled with Cylon centurions with
orders to kill every Human on board this ship," ventured Apollo,
having grown familiar with Baltar's traitorous stratagems.
   Picard requested of Data, "Where is the Galactica?"
   "The Galactica is currently holding a position between us and the
fleet, destroying all Cylon attack craft that attempt to reach the
fleet."
   "Status on the battle between the strike forces?"
   "The colonial forces would seem to have rallied and turned the
battle against the Cylons. However, both sides have sustained heavy
casualties...  Sir, those raiders currently attacking the Enterprise
have turned to assist in the battle against the colonial forces."
   On the main screen, the Cylon fighters could be seen breaking away
from their strafing runs on the Enterprise to regroup and head off to
the assistance of those raiders still engaging the Galactica's viper
squadrons.  Phaser fire still bracketed the raiders, detonating one
after another as they started to assume their typical formations.
This rapidly inspired the Cylon forces to scatter once again and
maintain their evasive maneuvers.
   Noting the loose grouping of the Cylon war ships, Riker considered
the utility of firing photon torpedoes at the raiders.
   "Marginal at best, Sir.  They are far too maneuverable, and would
easily avoid the blast radius of photon torpedoes," Worf pointed out
to the First Officer.
   "The basestars are hailing us, Sir."
   "On screen, Mr. Data."
   "I have instructed my fighters to leave your vessel alone, Captain
Picard," Baltar stated the instant the channel was opened.  "You will
now move your ship away from the battle and await the arrival of
shuttles to take custody of the war criminals who have boarded your
ship."
   "One moment, Baltar."  Picard kept his voice level and authoritive.
"Since your ships are currently in the territory of the Federation of
Planets, I believe that this matter currently involves the Federation.
I suggest that you recall all of your war ships.  Since the Federation
would be more impartial as judge and jury of this matter, you will
await the arrival of a Federation tribunal to hear your evidence and
determine whether Adama and his fleet is guilty of these 'crimes' with
which you have accused them, and whether they should be turned over to
you."
   Baltar sat a moment in silence, controlling himself over this
challenge against his self-generated authority, before flatly stating,
"A trial has already been held in this matter, and Adama has been
found guilt of crimes against the Cylon Empire."
   "According to Adama, no such trial was ever convened.  Is that not
true?"
   "That is very correct.  The Cylons have found us guilty of charges
unknown to us, without any trial that we were aware of, more than a
millennium ago.  The sentence was the total extermination of the Human
race.  A judgement, Baltar, that you are a fool to think does not
include yourself!"
   "That is a lie, Adama!" Baltar denied emphatically.  "The Galactica
and its fleet will be taken into custody.  The fate of Adama and his
followers will be left up to the judgement of the Imperious Leader."
   "Then what is your objection to presenting your case before a
Federation tribunal?" Picard prodded Baltar.
   Baltar stared out from the view screen, his eyes small and beady.
Then he turned to look away from the video sensor, presumably to
listen to a voice that was not heard over the communication channel.
The look that crossed his face indicated that what ever he heard, he
did not like it.  "Very well, Picard," he finally said.  "I will
personally meet with you to discuss this matter.  I will come over to
your ship after my fighters have been recalled."  With that, the
channel was closed from the other end.
   "Do _not_ make the mistake of trusting him," Adama reiterated.
   "I have no such intention."

[to be continued, yet again]

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Well, did you like it?  Did I sell the big E short?  Is my view
of reality acceptable?  Well, just wait 'til you read part 3 to
voice your compliments and your flames.

					Dreamwalker
					surrealist warpus