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Old January 13 2013, 01:29 AM   #44
Re: The Hunted (nBSG)

Mathias swore as he racked the phone. And then he sighed. He lifted the phone again. “Brig, CIC.”

“Go, CIC,” came the answer.

“Put Brother Cavil on the line,” Mathias ordered.

Tom jerked and he stared at his Commander. “Sir?” he whispered.

“Yes, Commander—I take it that you have a question for me?”

Mathias closed his eyes. “What is the access code to trigger the backdoor in the CNP program?”

Cavil laughed. “Commander, that isn’t something I can just tell you—it is machine language. Cylon language. You couldn’t use it if I did inform you.”

“Can you broadcast it?” Mathias asked as Tom just stared with wide eyes.

“I can, but not from here. Why do you need it transmitted? Your ships don’t have the system updates?”

“No, but there are others here who might; others who are attempting to destroy this ship and everyone on it—including you.”

“Ah. But I will just down-load, Commander.”

“Perhaps not—we are in a system generating Ragnar-like radiation; you do know what that means?”

Cavil was silent. “I will need a transmitter—a direct connection into the comm system by fiber-optic cable.”

“Done,” Mathias said as he racked the phone. “Get him what he needs, Colonel Jayne—Captain Danis, activate full internal firewalls—he is to have access ONLY to communications. Physically take long-range comm off-line.”

Tom started to argue, but Mathias snarled. “It’s either this or kill them all, Colonel! MOVE!”

For a moment Mathias was afraid that Tom wasn’t going to obey the order, but then he nodded and jogged out of CIC.

“Rambler, Scorpia Actual—we may have a way to stop this attack without killing everyone. Run interference, disrupt their attack as best you can, but do not fire for effect without my direct order.”

************************************************** **

“Copy that, Scorpia Actual,” Rambler said. “Frack,” he whispered. “All pilots, listen up. We are not, repeat NOT to engage these guys. Command wants us to mess up their attack run however, but warning shots only. Make them deviate from course.”

Expressions of disbelief and a few swear words filled up the tactical channels, and Rambler snarled. “Clear the air, pilots! You have your orders.”

How the frack we are going to do that is beyond me, he thought as his Vipers broke hard as they entered the weapons envelope of the oncoming strike—flying Mark VIIs!—and his opponents began to spit gun-fire. Whatever you doing, Commander, make it fast, he thought as he jinked to avoid a burst.

************************************************** **

“All batteries hold fire!” barked Sam. “Range to the Aurora?”

“She’ll be in gun-range in forty-five seconds . . . MARK . . . presuming her acceleration stays constant,” the tech answered.

Mat, I hope to the Hells you know what you are doing, she thought.

************************************************** **

Daniel and Anders watched as Cavil was pulled out of his cell and then the hatch slammed open and Tom entered with two technicians and a loop of fiber-optic cable. The techs removed an armor plate from the wall and hooked one end of the cable into a comm line; the second Tom offered to the Cylon.

And then Tom pulled his sidearm, chambered a round, and place it against the side of Cavil’s forehead. “Here, in this system, if you die, you die forever. Frack with us, and you will be in Hell before me,” Tom said.

“There is no Hell but what we make,” said Cavil. “I need a knife.”

Tom nodded at the Marines, who gave the Cylon a short—but razor-sharp—knife.

“What are you doing, John?” Daniel asked.

“Saving our collective asses, Father Daniel,” the Cylon answered as he sliced his arm and inserted the cable, dropping the knife on the floor in the process.

Tom frowned—the Cylon was bleeding. “Call a corpsman to the brig,” he ordered the Marines, and Cavil chuckled.

“Threaten to kill me one moment and then concerned for my well-being the next.”

“I’m only human,” Tom said.

“You say that like it is a good thing,” Cavil continued to insert the cable and then he stopped and jerked. “Interface connection made . . . short-range comm unit open . . . broadcasting shut-down commands,” his eyes glazed over and he swayed slightly.

Tom grabbed the phone in his free hand. “CIC, Brig. Cavil is transmitting now.”

“We confirm, Brig.”

************************************************** **

“Range to Aurora?” Mathias asked.

“She will enter gun-range in ten seconds . . . MARK,” replied Marius.

“The Air Wing?”

“Haven’t lost anyone yet, Sir—but there have been some close calls. Those pilots are not pressing the attack as hard as they should be,” Marius said and he gave a crooked grin. “Maybe some of them don’t want to be attacking a Battlestar anymore than we want to destroy that ship.”

Mathias ignored the comment and he kept his gaze focused on the DRADIS display. Come on, he thought. If they don’t power down . . . he sighed. “Captain Cook, look all batteries on Aurora and prepare to open fire on my com-. . .,”

SCORPIA, Rambler!” screamed a static filled voice from the intercom. “All hostile Vipers have lost power and are drifting!”

The Commander grabbed the phone. “Rambler, Scorpia Actual. Aurora?”

“Tumbling out of control, Sir.”

Mathias grinned. “CIC to Captain Aisne.”

“Go, CIC,” the Marine commander immediately answered.

“I want a boarding party to take Aurora before she can restore her systems—non-lethal weapons where possible; I’ll understand if it is not. Take her, Liam.”

“Aye, aye, Sir.”

“Sidewinder, Scorpia Actual,” he continued.

“Go, Scorpia Actual.”

“I want your Raptors to tow those disabled vipers into the port flight pod—don’t ding them or the pilots too badly.”

“On our way, Actual.”

“Captain Danis, raise that station—I want to have a talk to the imbecile that just tried to get Colonial officers and crew killed for no good reason. A long talk.”

Last edited by MasterArminas; January 13 2013 at 03:56 AM.
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