Date: Fri, 9 Feb 1996 18:07:45 EST From: Patrick Alan Mcdonald THE COMING OF CYLONS by Patrick "Mac" McDonald The steady, even thrum of the engines filled the cabin of the Raider. The Centurions within, however, had little regard for it. Their emotionless, analytical minds considered only that which was of importance to them. And today, that included the sensors. "Long range sensors have detected 4 planets in the star system ahead." said the Centurion in the right-hand station, his mechanical voice coolly and calmly reporting. The Centurion in the command chair checked his own gauges, "Alter course to bring us within short-range sensors." The Raider banked slightly, it's two 'wingman' Raiders following suit. Within a centaur, they had done fly-bys of three of the four planets, finding them lifeless and otherwise useless. They approached the fourth with the same Cylon lack of alacrity as when they'd started. This time, however, the sensor panel lit up, emitting a harsh repeating beep. "Sensors have detected life forms present." "Are they human?" inquired the commanding Centurion. The renegade human fleet had been heading in this direction before they'd lost contact with them. "Insufficient data." The cold, efficient mind of the commander quickly made a decision, "Take us into the atmosphere as close to the readings as possible. We must know if this planet is inhabited by the life form known as Man." Jarol straightened up from his labors in the garden, pressing his fist into the small of his back and sighing as he felt it crack. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he was just about to lean back into his work when he heard a high- pitched creening. Craning his neck, he searched the horizon, wondering what it was. At first, he couldn't see anything, but then he caught a glimpse of movement to the north, just above the tree line. Squinting his eyes, he watched as what first seemed a single speck split into three, moving together his way. "That's no bird I've ever seen." he said to himself, "And I reckon I've seen about every kind of bird this side of Paradeen." The sound, to his ears, seemed more artificial. Not unlike a jet engine of sorts, he thought. But there hadn't been any air or spacecraft on Paradeen since those 'Colonials' had absconded with the Enforcer's Destroyer. Jarol frowned as the craft swiftly took shape. He certainly didn't recognize them... he wondered if they were some new form of Eastern Alliance warship. Suddenly, they were over... screeching by at high speed several hundred feet overhead. They were relatively flat, almost discus-like, with two engine thrusters behind them. Any further examination, though, was cut short when Jarol realized they were banking hard and coming back for a second pass... in HIS direction. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he had a very sinking feeling. Dropping his hoe, he sprinted for the house. He hadn't gotten further than fifty feet when the world exploded about him. He looked over his shoulder, screaming in terror, his last image that of bright green searing towards him. The ground exploded as the energy burst incinerated him, stitching a path across the ground, through Jarol and finishing on his homestead. Jarol was already dead when his house went up in flames, it's shattered remnants cascading about the area, flattening and burning the garden he had work so hard on this year. The three craft pulled up and away, satisfied. Commandant Lieter paced along the narrow walkway between the bridge stations, his hands held lightly behind him. His black uniform was pressed and neat, the silver epaulets denoting his rank gleaming in the lights from the consoles. His 'flat-top' officer's cap was worn slightly to the back, the rim aimed arrogantly upwards. He was the epitome of the Enforcers, denoting the confidence of superiority that underlined Eastern Alliance philosophy. But inside, he felt little of the confidence he outwardly displayed. In the past six months, things had changed... much for the worse, he was sure. The war with the Nationalist West had been nearly won. Every one of the West's extra-solar colonies had been taken. Their space fleet wiped out, their main base in the home system, Lunar 7, had been conquered. And final preparations for the extermination of the West on Terra itself had been made. Finally, the chance to take the wealth and resources hoarded by the West and help their own starving masses in the East. It had been within their grasp: a final end to the war and a forced unification of all of Terra, and it's colonies. He cursed the day his Destroyer had ever detected those alien fighter craft heading for Paradeen. He had led their mighty Battlestar straight back to the home system. Once, he had been confident. He HAD to be... life in the poor, under- resourced Eastern Alliance was harsh at best for the vast majority of the populace. Only a belief in their inherent superiority over the rest of mankind could give them the courage to take what they needed for survival, rather than indebting themselves to the wealthy capitalists of the West in exchange for meager, second rate goods. The war had been a rallying point to strengthen the peoples of the East. Even now, he still outwardly relayed the confidence his crew so much needed to see. But inside, he contemplated. Before these 'Colonials' had arrived, the Eastern Alliance had been the most supreme power ever known. But how could he factor that Battlestar into the equation? 'It was a fluke.' he thought to himself, over and over. 'They had but one. We have well over a hundred Destroyers... more than a match.' 'I estimate you would need over a thousand of your Destroyers...' Adama had said. A calculated lie on Adama's part, Lieter was certain. He recognized it in the old man's eyes, casting the exaggerated figure out, hoping to catch the Commandant off guard. Lieter had to smile at the memory. Adama's old age hid a cunning man and competent leader. But he was gone now, along with his wondrous Battlestar. And the Terra he left behind had reeled from the fragile balance he'd created. The war, nearly won in victory, was now a stalemate, under a temporary truce and cease fire while the Eastern Alliance tried desperately to rebuild it's nuclear arsenal. "Sir, long range sensors are detecting spacecraft near Paradeen." Commandant Lieter paused. This had a too-familiar ring to it. Shaking his head, he approached the SensOps station, looking down over the crewman's shoulder. "What do you have, Craton?" The view screen showed an image of three small craft, each only a fraction of the size of the Destroyer. They were disc-shaped, flat, and flew in formation. They were entering the atmosphere of Paradeen. "Report." "Very much like the alien craft we encountered several months ago, the computer is unable to discern their power source, tech type, or origin." Lieter nodded. As alien as they were to Terran ships, they were also just as alien compared to the fighters flown by the 'Colonials'. "Pilot, plot an intercept course." Within moments, the ship was breaking from it's patrol route and accelerating directly towards Paradeen. Their patrol was aimed at keeping Western colonists and troops from landing on the colonies the East had taken before the treaty. It was unlikely, however, any such ships would slip through while they investigated these new alien craft. The Centurion commander was about to order an attack on the next detected establishment of Humans on the planet when the co-pilot reported, "Spacecraft detected approaching the planet." "Is it the Galactica?" "Negative. It is of unknown configuration." "Intercept and analyze." "By your command." The trio of Raiders rose up out of the atmosphere. They noted with indifference that the alien ship was already approaching them. "Sensors detect human life signs on the ship." "Lock weapons on ship and prepare to attack." Lieter watched as the three craft emerged from Paradeen and closed with them. He had little doubt they were dangerous. Everything was dangerous in the universe. "Arm and lock all weapons. Full power to defensive systems." The alert klaxon sounded within the Destroyer as the crew prepared for battle. "Sir, their weapons are firing." "Hard to port. Gunners, return fire!" The Destroyer banked hard, narrowly dodging several bright green energy bursts. One set impacted along the armored hull. The EM deflector screens shunted part of the energy away, but the ship still shook with the explosion. Several belly mounted guns returned the favor, long sizzling bolts of electric blue slicing across space and impacting on the lead alien craft. It exploded in violent fury, while the other two broke formation and banked off to port and starboard. "They are coming about for another run." "Bring us about 38 degrees. Weapons to maximum width firing pattern." The Destroyer curved about as the last two alien craft closed up as a pair and aimed straight for them. They fired as the Destroyer began a roll along it's long axis. The shots scathed by within meters of the ship. "Fire!" All of the Destroyer's guns opened up, a wide but short-ranged swath of energy lathing out and catching both alien craft. The twin explosions lit up the darkness of space as the Destroyer passed harmlessly between them. "Sensors, are there any more out there?" "Negative, sir. Space is clear." "Stand down to amber alert, and I want a damage report immediately. Take us into orbit around Paradeen until further orders." Over a light-year away, a huge and majestic Baseship sat silently in space. Though less powerful than a Battlestar, it was still immense by any standards. Deep within it's armored hull, in a darkened hall, a tall pillar sat, bathed in the radiance of an eerie light placed high overhead, focused on the throne that surmounted the pillar. The screeching sound of glass on glass sounded as the doors slid open, allowing the entrance of a Gold Centurion, "By your command." The throne above slowly rotated about, until the IL-series sitting there could stare down at the Cylon below, "Speak." "We have lost contact with a patrol in the Alpha Anius system. Their last report was of detecting limited human life signs on the third planet of the system." "If they discovered the hiding place of the renegade Human fleet, then they were most likely destroyed by the Galactica. Have we regained contact with the main fleet?" The baleful red eye of the gold Centurion slid evenly back and forth, "Negative. The intervening region of space still jams our communications in the direction of the fleet." "Then it is up to us to destroy the Human renegades. Have our fighters prepared for launch and move the Baseship into the Alpha Anius system." "By your command." "Commandant, the fused power couplings have been replaced, and the damage to the starboard armor plating has been repaired to the best of our ability. The computer glitch is still giving us problems, however. We will need another hour to erase the damaged software, upload the backups, and install them." Lieter nodded, "Very well, Lieutenant. Proceed." "Sir." the voice of Craton piped in, "Sensors detect another Destroyer entering the star system. We are receiving a signal." "Put it through, Craton." Lieter leaned over the crewman, watching as the face of Commandant Durashkov appeared on screen. Lieter nodded, "Welcome to Paradeen, Commandant Durashkov." Durashkov smiled thinly, "Commandant Lieter." he paused, "High Command sent us to assist you. What is your status?" "Minor computer malfunction. We'll be up within the hour. We encountered several hostile alien craft over Paradeen. We were forced to destroy them." Durashkov nodded avidly, "Very good." "Sir." Craton interrupted, "Long range sensors have detected several more craft entering the system. Their configuration matches that of the hostiles we encountered." "Durashkov, several more of those alien craft have entered the system." The other Commandant nodded on-screen, "We've got them on sensors as well. We're moving to intercept. Join us when you can, Lieter." :Lieter turned away as the screen blanked, "Lieutenant, I want that computer to full capacity in thirty minutes." The young officer merely nodded, unwilling to argue with the stern gaze Lieter leveled on him, "Aye aye, sir." Commandant Durashkov was a bear of a man, quite a few years older than Lieter. His presence dominated the small space of the Destroyer's bridge. "Sensors, report." "There are three alien craft in formation directly ahead, closing rapidly. There are two more formations to port and starboard. They appear to be a screening force." Yes, thought Durashkov to himself, but screening what? "Arm and lock all guns on the forward formation. Prepare a missile just in case." The Destroyer closed rapidly, the roar of her engines sounding reassuring to the crew aboard. "Fire." About the same time the enemy craft fired, the Destroyer opened up. Multiple bursts sliced through space, incinerating the lead ship. Immediately, the other two broke off, but the starboard craft arced straight into the continuing energy burst, exploding like it's leader. The Destroyer evaded to port, narrowly avoiding the enemy fire, and closing on the tail of the sole remaining craft. "Sir, the other two formations are closing on our position. Range, six seconds." The Destroyer's guns opened up again, blasting the solo enemy craft away. "Hard to starboard!" The Destroyer banked hard to the right as enemy fire lashed out from both directions. An explosion rocked the ship as one burst stitched across the armor plating. Durashkov held on tight as the ship rumbled. "Sir, we have another ship entering the system straight ahead. It is much larger than the others." Durashkov stared silently as the huge ship appeared. Two mammoth discs connected by a thick central core. And a great deal of the small enemy craft were disgorging from it. Durashkov sighed in silent resignation, "Prepare to launch a missile. And get me Lieter." Lieter watched with morbid fascination as the father of all mother ships appeared in-system and immediately began launching fighters. Durashkov's Destroyer was caught between them as the screening fighters closed in behind him. It was about then that Durashkov's signal came in. "Lieter, get out of here. Get back to Lunar Seven and warn them." "Understood. Good luck, Commandant Durashkov." Durashkov nodded, cutting the line. Lieter turned about, "Full power to engines. Take us out of orbit and straight for Lunar 7." As Lieter's Destroyer pulled out of orbit, he watched as over a dozen enemy fighter craft swarmed over the other Destroyer. Durashkov's shipped died in a brilliant and fiery explosion amid a latticework of enemy fire. "You fought well for the Eastern Alliance. You will be remembered." he said silently to himself. "Helm, make best speed for Lunar 7." Baal watched his screens silently, noting the retreat of one ship even as his Raiders destroyed the other. Long range sensors had already determined that this planet had virtually no humans inhabiting it, which meant these ships were coming from somewhere else. The Twelve Colonies of Man had had no such craft that the Cylons knew about. Was it possible they were building new ships? If so, that meant the renegade fleet had found a suitable base of operations. In that case, it was his duty to find and destroy it. He would prefer having more Baseships in support, but communications were hampered by whatever unknown phenomena infested that part of space towards Cylon. He pressed a single button and waited for the Gold Centurion to step into the chamber. The Gold's red eye stared balefully up at him, "By your command." "Have a Raider patrol follow the fleeing human ship at maximum sensor range, while we follow beyond their sensor range. The humans will no doubt lead us straight back to their fleet, at which time we will destroy the last remnants of the species known as Man. Now go." "It will be done by your command." The return trip to the Terran system took nearly a day at full speed. Lieter had sent a full report ahead of him, so hopefully High Command would be prepared for his arrival. In the very best scenario, they would assemble most of the fleet and hit the enemy mother ship with about 70 or 80 Destroyers, taking it out with minimal losses. But, like most Eastern people, Lieter had an in-born streak of pessimism. Enforcer training usually crushed it, and the superior race dogma did it's best to eradicate it, but occasionally it surfaced, especially during times like these. And he knew, deep inside, that they would have trouble destroying this alien Mother ship. He wondered if these were those Cylon friends that Baltar had spoken of. During their brief imprisonment on the Colonial's prison barge, a prisoner named Baltar had aided them in their escape. He was SUPPOSED to follow them out in his Raider, as he called it, but something had happened. Lieter hadn't bothered to stay and find out. He hadn't gotten a clear look at Baltar's ship, but come to think of it, it HAD looked something like the fighters he had recently encountered. "ETA to home system, five minutes." "Very good, Lieutenant. As soon as we enter the home system, put me in contact with Lunar 7." The last few minutes passed quickly and soon enough, the Destroyer was cruising into the system, heading straight for Lunar 7. The base had once been the Western Nationalist's primary lunar colony on Terra's large orbiting natural satellite. During the last war, the Eastern Alliance had captured it. The first of many conquests following their surprise attack and annihilation of the West's fleet. Lunar 7 was now their largest naval base and headquarters for Enforcer High Command. "Admiral, I am now certain these aliens are a race known as the Cylons, an ancient enemy of the Colonials we encountered last year. If we move quickly, we can counter--attack and catch them off-guard near Paradeen." The officer on-screen nodded, "The fleet is assembled, but the Council is worried about a Western attack while most of our fleet is away." "Sir, this Cylon mother ship is not to be underestimated. Surprise and initiative might be our only chances." The Admiral frowned, "Really now, Commandant. The Eastern Alliance is the most supreme power in the universe. We are more than capable of winning on our own abilities." "Of course, Admiral. However, surprise and initiative are useful allies, none-the-less." "Rendezvous with the fleet at Lunar 7 and await further orders." replied the Admiral briskly, cutting the communication. Lieter was silent, pondering that. Why HAD he spoken like that? Hadn't he been telling Adama himself that the Eastern Alliance was supreme? He had certainly believed it at the time. But something had been nagging at him for quite some time. He wasn't sure what it was, but it did have him beginning to question things. Lieter shook his head, clearing his mind of the chaos. The Admiral was right, we are Enforcers, and the Eastern Alliance will triumph. So why did he have a sneaky suspicion that they would have to prove it sooner than they thought? Admiral Bureshnikov firmly shook his head, "Absolutely not. Out of the question." Admiral Gorsky frowned in return, "We should make the attempt. We might need allies against so powerful an enemy as the Cylons." Bureshnikov rounded on the other swiftly, "The Eastern Alliance does NOT require any assistance from the filthy capitalists in the West. Further, we don't even know for sure if it IS the Cylons. Lieter could well be exaggerating." Before Gorsky could reply, the tall older man standing silently at the head of the table watching the verbal exchange raised his hand, "To that question we shall have an answer even now." He nodded to a nearby Enforcer. The door to the High Command's planning room slid open, allowing a large and rather hairy individual to enter. His robes of brown and beige flowed about him, a hood pulled up over his head. "Gorsky, show Maga the sensor logs." The Admiral nodded, pulling up the images on the main screen. The leader of the three refugee Borellian Nomen looked up at the screen, saying evenly after a pause, "Cylon Raider-class fighter craft. Where was this taken?" "Paradeen, in the Alpha Anius system." "Raiders are limited range ships." he replied with that deep, menacing voice of his, "If they were there, then a Baseship was not far behind." Bureshnikov sneered towards Nomen, "Baseship? If it fields craft as small as these, then we will have little trouble defeating it." Maga turned his eyes on Bureshnikov, his bushy eyebrows never flickering, "All your Eastern propaganda cannot destroy an enemy that destroyed the Twelve Colonies of Man. Be ready for the worst battle of your life." Bureshnikov snorted but remained silent when the Supreme Commandant stared him down, "We will dispatch the assembled fleet to Paradeen. However, we will also open a dialogue with the Western Nationalists. At the least, we can ensure they stay put while our fleet is out-system." Gorsky nodded enthusiastically, while the rest of the half-dozen senior officers offered less-energetic nods. "Gentlemen, the Eastern Alliance will triumph and prove to the entire galaxy why we are supreme." Boots thudding to attention with arms snapping crisp salutes were the group's reply to their CiC's statement. "Sir, incoming communiqui from High Command." "Patch it through, Craton." replied Lieter easily, knowing what was coming. "Office of the Admiralty to all ships, assume fleet status two and prepare for immediate departure to Alpha Anius system, planet Paradeen." Lieter nodded, his aristocratic face almost seeming pleased with the news. "Helm, take us into position and prepare to leave the system." Over the next twenty centons, Destroyers hustled about, taking places in the vast formation. Some eighty Destroyers were assembled, most of the Enforcer fleet. Soon enough, it was time to depart. Lieter stood at the head of the bridge, hands clasped lightly behind him, looking aristocratic in his bearing, "Craton, when we get to Paradeen, we'll have our first solid victory in months, enough to inspire the people at home with renewed faith in our cause. Prepare star drive." "Too late, sir." replied Craton in a rare display of no protocol, even as the sensor alerts went off, "They're already here." Lieter frowned as he looked down at Craton's screens, seeing the distant image of the huge mother ship, a wave of fighter craft before it. There were a lot of fighters... Tension ran throughout the fleet as most of them gained their first live sight of the huge mother ship, as well as the several hundred fighters sweeping before it. The Admiralty swiftly canceled the previous orders and instead moved the fleet back into Terran orbit in an attempt to defend the planet. Admiral Gorsky had just boarded his own Destroyer from the Lunar Seven base, watching the sensor screens as the enemy fleet closed. Somehow he hadn't expected quite so many enemy fighters. He wondered if the High Command had any success with the Western Nationalists. He hoped so, because he had some doubts as to their ability to handle that mother ship, or 'Baseship' as Maga had called it. "Helm, bring us into position with the rest of the fleet. All hands, battle stations." "Speak, Centurion." "Long range sensors have detected a fleet of ships in orbit around the planet. The planet has a very large human population, but none of the ships match known Colonial configurations." "Indeed." replied Baal, his dome head glittering brightly as he contemplated, "No Colonials present, it would seem. This could be an advanced splinter colony of humans. They will require terminating in any event, so continue with the attack. Destroy the fleet and prepare for planetary bombardment." "By your command." The Cylons swept through the system in very short time. When the 'Raiders' reached Terra, the Enforcers were waiting for them. The order to attack came, and within moments dozens of Enforcer Destroyers rushed out to intercept the hundreds of Raiders swarming en masse towards Terra. Laser blasts exploded in hundreds of spots at once, beams criss-crossing space in lethal exchange. Raiders all over began to exploded, even as Destroyers followed suit. Mayhem and chaos reigned as Raiders and Destroyers zigzagged about in a deadly ballet. Several Destroyers broke through to attack the closing Baseship directly. Several missiles launched from the ships, riding fountains of flame as they rocketed towards the Cylon Baseship. Their flights were short-lived, however, as laser turrets on the Baseship sensor-locked on the missiles and blew them away. Baal watched his status screens without comment, noting in his computer brain the nuclear missiles the humans were attempting to use. Though somewhat primitive, he knew enough of them could seriously damage his Baseship. Fortunately their guidance and tracking systems were primitive enough for his Baseship's turrets to track and destroy them before they hit. He spoke calmly into his comm unit, "Have all batteries alternate fire between destroying incoming missiles and nearby enemy ships." The battle raged on... "Raiders incoming at four o'clock." "Hard to port! Forward guns, fire!" Lieter, strapped safely into his sit behind the helmsman, watched out the forward viewport as the Destroyer banked hard left, the Raiders coming into view. Energy bolts lashed out, destroying the lead Raider. The other two swerved off, sending out their own last-second bursts. The Destroyer shook as a hit burned into the starboard armor plating. The Baseship had moved in closer now, off to one side of the battle. Several brave Destroyers had closed enough to try their missiles, but with little effect. Cylon short-range sensors were quite effective, and coupled with their turrets, lethal. The Destroyers had died swiftly following their attempted attacks. "Incoming!" An explosion rocked the Destroyer. Alarms and warnings sounded as smoke filled the cabin, causing Lieter to choke. The Enforcers in the cabin activated their breathing gear and plates closed down over their mouths from under the visors of their helmets, but Lieter was forced to press the sleeve of his jacket over his mouth while the ventilation system tried in vain to clear the air. Lieter looked out the viewport in time to see a Destroyer exploded, it's battered hull taking too much abuse. That was Admiral Gorsky's ship, he thought briefly to himself. The battle was not fairing well. A lot of Destroyers were already gone, and while they had taken quite a few Raiders with them, the Baseship remained unscathed. They had to do something, thought Lieter, but what? As long as those turrets are active, they'd never get close enough to hit the Baseship, he pondered. Perhaps they could take out the sensors? Or blind them? Were there enough ships left to handle the Baseship? No matter. They would attack, and win or lose, the Eastern Alliance would survive. MUST survive: mankind's future necessitated that fact. "Gunnery, set missiles to short fuse, maximum EMP effect. Make sure they detonate before the enemy Baseship's weapons destroy them." "Aye, sir." "Helm, take us in closer to the Baseship." "Closer sir, aye." The helmsman didn't even question the order, though surely he knew it to be a suicidal maneuver. THAT was training and discipline, thought Lieter, pleased. "Missiles set." "Prepare rapid-fire. Launch!" "Missiles away!" Baal watched as the lone Destroyer made an approach vector on his Baseship. Following the earlier failures of the previous Destroyers, they had ceased their attempts to directly attack the Baseship. This newest attacker launched several missiles. Even as Baal pondered the foolishness of the act, he watched the first missile explode even before the Baseship's turrets could fire. Suddenly, his screen went white with static. Pondering this potential glitch, he changed frequencies and cameras, finding each of the other sensor relays equally inoperative. "Status report." The response was slightly delayed, "The humans have exploded a primitive form of electro-magnetic pulse weapons. Sensors are off-line. They will be back on-line in a few centons." Without sensors to guide the turrets, the Baseship's weapons would be rather ineffective. "Recall the Raiders to defend the Baseship from attack." "By your command." Lieter argued over the commline, "Now is the time to attack! Their sensors won't be down for long." The Admiral on the other end scowled at him, "The fleet is too scattered and already engaged in combat. You attack, Lieter. Fire everything you have." The commline died as Lieter frowned, but he couldn't argue. "Helm, take us on a strafing run, point-blank range." "Sir! Multiple blips emerging from the surface." Lieter turned towards Craton, "Identify." "Closing rapidly. Sir, the Western Nationalists have launched nearly a hundred nuclear missiles. They are closing on the Baseship." Lieter blinked; the West had launched? He wondered who was behind THAT bit of politicking? "Helm, hold position. Gunnery, fire at nearby Raiders." "Sir, the Raiders are withdrawing to the enemy mother ship." Lieter held his breath as the missile salvo cut through space... Baal had vacated his throne and entered the control bridge, watching the Centurions at their stations. "Raiders report enemy targets approaching Baseship." "Withdraw to beyond the planet's moon until our Raiders can regroup." Baal watched and waited, "Status on sensors." "On-line now." The screens came to life as sensors and cameras came on-line. Baal's last image was of the hundred human missiles already at point-blank range. "Oh, my..." he said even as the universe exploded around him. Another blast struck Lieter's Destroyer before a last shot destroyed the attacking Raider. "Gyros out. Main reactor down." The Destroyer, pitched into darkness lit only by the glowing consoles, gently rolled. The enemy mother ship arced slowly through the forward viewport. Lieter and crew both watched as nearly a hundred streaks of light pierced through space towards it. A few last-second laser bursts eliminated a few, but the majority hit like striking vipers. Blinding white flashes lit the ebony blackness of night, multiple expanding spheres of white light and raw nuclear fission blasting at every part of the nearer side of the Baseship. Within moments it blew, the entire ship simply exploding, long streaks of twisted flaming wreckage expanding outwards. A number of nearby Raiders were caught in the blast, as well as one or two Destroyers, but this wasn't noticed by the cheering crew aboard Lieter's Destroyer. Across the shattered Enforcer fleet, cheers erupted before stern Commandants could quiet them down enough to remind them there were still a few Raiders left. It didn't take long for the Enforcers to mop up the remaining Cylon Raiders and assemble near Lunar Seven. The remnants of the Eastern Alliance's once-mighty fleet were meager to behold. Over half the fleet had been lost, with the rest at least minimally damaged. Battered Destroyers limped into port all afternoon, Lieter's among them. It would take a long time to recover, thought Lieter as his Destroyer was towed into port, but they would. The Eastern Alliance had survived. There was little doubt in his mind now... the superior race had survived. But perhaps, he thought, perhaps there was room for compromise. A peace with the Western Nationalists had been forged, with much bloodshed. Perhaps now the capitalists would bargain with them on even terms. Lieter nodded to himself, who knows what the future holds? THE END