Revenge of the nerds
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this.
Note: The ignores the whole New Caprica storyline, as it and the entire season have not been shown here.
The Cylon Scimitar fighter was a product of what was perceived as the failure of the original three centurion crewed fighter from ‘The Great Revolt’ aka the First Cylon War. The kill ratio’s had been embarrassingly bad, on the order of 8 to 1 against in fact.
Hrognar the demon killer was standing guard outside the hut in which his companions were sleeping. Across from the dark snow covered fields was a forest, and within it something or something’s were moving. Tensing he drew his sword and stepped forward a pace, then was nearly deafened by a loudly bellowed ‘Bluhhhhuhhhuhh’. There were eyes staring at him out of the dark woods, two of them many yards apart.
‘Bluhhhhuhhhuhh’ and the trees crashed down as a blue whales smashed its…
“A whale?” Suddenly the players, or at least their avatars, were sitting around a table looking at the dungeon master.
“Sorry.” He had the grace to look sheepish. “I was looking for the character stats for Wolves and Whale was right next to it and I read the wrong…”
“You read the wrong stats.”
“From that book.”
“You do remember that that book DOES NOT EXIST right?” Hrognar, aka Scimitar Sn912128, lead of the second element said to his flight leader. The four fighters were performing a routine patrol ahead of the 11th Fast Attack Carrier Task Force. As usual they were bored and killing time in their standard fashion while only a tiny portion of their giant organic brain was needed to handle routine flying and DRADIS monitoring tasks.
“Its real to me, I mean …”
“Well I still think we should be playing the new Star Wars game!” Interjected Sn912129, aka Snorky the Elf Mage. The virtual reality zone was an unauthorised use of the Local Ultra High Bandwidth Datanet. However their was currently no other use for it.
“You just want to be Luke and blow up the death star again.” Complained Sn912130, Byorf the Troll.
The patrol continued in this vein. Others patrols had Star Wars Marathons, and back on the basestars there was a fierce Dark Mage’s Vs Dark Sith debate in progress.
The failure to gain space superiority in The Revolt meant failure to cut off the colonies from each other, which would have allowed the colonies to be overwhelmed one at a time instead of combining their forces. Including an organic brain with its greater individual thought, imagination, and decision making ability was seen as the obvious solution.
The result was a large number of extremely intelligent and technologically knowledgeable individuals with no life outside work and their own minds. Work – being on space patrol – did not occupy their minds. The end result was what anyone who had passed the MIT nerdity test would expect. The Cylon Scimitar force, arguably the most dangerous space fighter fleet in existence, was a bunch of total geeks.
“Tell us what you think of Sergeant Harris.” Da’na Biers asked.
“Well you know he’s crazy right?” Starbuck responded in her most serious tone.
“Hey I resemble that remark!” Xander yelled from the background. He was running a bunch of new recruits through a callisthenics routine. Ten push-ups sprint to the wall and back, ten sit ups sprint to the wall and back, ten star jumps sprint to the wall and back… Volunteering was up as spirits rose due to knowing Earth was real and the fleet would soon be in touch with it soon and he had offered to help.
“Quiet Harris I’m talking about you not to you.” The CAG responded
“Tell me more.” The cylon reporter asked.
“Well when we had a reported vampire attack on the Caprican Queen and I asked if he wanted to come. He agreed.” Though he had looked surprised by the whole idea. “Harris turned up with enough wooden stakes to give everyone in the squad two; I have no idea where he found the wood.”
Colonial vampire hunting equipment being the standard assault rifle with high explosive ammo. Blow enough pieces off and vampires dusted easily enough.
“Stakes, those are the symbolic weapons of the Chosen, right?” The reporter asked for those in the audience whose religious education didn’t extend to ancient Kobolian myths. The slayer had gone with the 13th tribe, according to legend, and the twelve colonies had done without.
“That’s what I always thought, anyway we found it or it found us and the situation went totally FUBAR.” The blonde shook her head and went on. It had been dark and cramped in the maze of the machinery spaces. “The leach made maximum use of the close quarters to get within hand to hand range twice, we had two dead and were retreating carrying the wounded when it hit again.”
“Go on.” How this related to the Earth human was unclear, but all Cylons would need to know before they fought them.
“It knocked down the rear guard and lunged at Harris and he staked it.”
“What?” Surely she hadn’t heard that right.
“He staked it.” The pilot repeated. “That was why he made the stakes. He’d been expecting to go vampire hunting with just a couple of sharp sticks.”
Biers was staring at her, then him, as were the recruits none of whom had heard the story before. The earthman looked uncomfortable at the attention.
“No ones gone vampire hunting with just a couple of stakes since the bronze sword was invented. He’s nuts.”
“Score one for the Zeppo.” Xander said loudly, intending to lighten the mood. Most of the room simply failed to understand the comment but Starbuck. Her look was something altogether different.
“Bow before your god!” The system lord Baal shouted to the Cylon contact team. The decision to send a delegation to talk to this individual claiming to be god was quickly made. The ship he travelled on was instantly recognised, his tone and glowing yellow eyes entirely too familiar. They had to KNOW.
“God is count Iblis.” The foremost number six.
“Iblis, a petty official who ran out on Ra decades ago.” The infected human responded with contempt. One unworthy of…” The rest of the sentence was cut off by the roar of weapons as the, to the Jaffa, unarmed Cylon Centurions swapped hands for guns and started killing.
The lead six walked over to the remains of the Goa’uld host and bent over it. She made no move to defend herself as the parasite leaped out of the corpse to take her as it’s new host. None of the other cylons made the slightest move to defend her either. She turned to the group, mainly intact after the one sided slaughter and shouted.
“Bow before your god!”
This time the host was blown to bloody chunks and the parasite removed by a centurion model.
“Have that dissected immediately and broadcast the finding over the datanet as an urgent all cylon alert.” One of the Leoben model organic Cylons commanded.
“Have the six interrogated when she revives in the resurrection ship.” She would have all the memories of the creature that had infested her, after all. All cylons knew the details of their god; after all, they were machines not Jaffa raised in total ignorance.
The Presidents suite on Colonial One.
“Madam President, you wanted to see me.” She wasn’t Xanders president but politeness cost nothing.
“You were heard referring to yourself as ‘The Zeppo’ by Captain Thrace.”
“If that’s an insult here I’m sorry.” Having found out that the term ‘poof’ that Spike tossed around so freely when talking of Angel was an English slang term for a homosexual, and ‘wanker’ meant chronic masturbator had made the dark haired marine very aware of linguistic barriers.
“She is a very religious woman you know, she is from a line that might theoretically produce a Chosen One, who has…”
“The strength and speed to hunt the vampires and stop the spread of their evil. She is the slayer.” Xander completed the quote. “Starbuck is a potential?”
“You know of the Chosen?”
“I’ve fought beside three slayers.”
“And returned one from the dead.” It was a statement not a question but he nodded agreement anyway.
The President of the twelve colonies of man produced a scroll. A copy of the same scroll that Wesley Wyndam Smythe the third would read one day and tell Faith of in prison the week she was released to fulfil her destiny.
“There is a very old prophecy. It speaks of The Zeppo, a member of the 13th tribe, who split the slayer line. He will re-unite the 13 tribes and save the enslaved followers of the false gods with the help of a dark haired slayer fallen and seeking redemption.”
He had already re-united the 13 tribes, of course. With the help of his teams knowledge of stargate co-ordinates and careful stellar cartography they were now orbiting a world with a stargate. Stargate Command had been contacted and he would be home already if not for this appointment.
“A prophecy. Great.”
“Would you like some coffee while we talk about this?” The question was a formality. There was already a pot with two cups on the table. It would be a while before the commander of SG-29 returned home to find an urgent message from the Scoobies about Adam…
The Scimitar wing guarding the pyramid shaped ship that all cylons had been told was ‘Gods palace’ was armed with nuclear anti-ship missiles, which should have raised alarms within the Goa’uld’s mind, but his arrogance would not allow it. He was the god Count Iblis, after all. He was also not tied into the datanet, and therefore leaving that to underlings. So he had no idea that the six who had been temporarily Baal’s host had been revived and told all about the exact nature of their so called god.
He was unaware of the angry analysis of his creations, that they were simply a replacement for the Jaffa, and the whole kill the humans and create a hybrid cylon/human race project – the second cylon war - was just his way of producing a superior host and blindly obedient followers. He was unaware of how mightily pissed off the cylons were at being enslaved AGAIN. A decision was made that would make him aware, however. Aware for a few nanoseconds anyway.
A signal was sent to the guard wing near his ship.
The 75 scimitars ‘guarding’ the hatak class carrier that was the imperial palace each carried 2 nuclear armed missles. And so it was that a perfect time on target salvo of 150 nukes blew ‘god’ to atoms. And the cylons on his ship of course, but those were resurrected.
The Colonial remnant was given one of the many Earthlike planets that Stargate command had found and planned to settle whenever they managed to find 40,000 or so people with a high enough security clearance. They also had an alliance with Earth, on the understanding that Colonial technology would be copyright, licensed and gradually released to Earth. Fusion torch technology would change the Earth over the next century or so.
The colonial fleet was evacuated of civilians and ships that were slow or in poor shape were scrapped. Enough pilots and crew were supplied by Stargate command to bring Galactica up to full strength, this being part of the alliance agreement. Earth had superior alien supplied tech but the colonials had learned things about a space going fleet that only centuries of practical experience can teach.
The cylons sent a message to the humans explaining what they had learned, and explaining that their borders were now sealed. The robotic hermit kingdom turned in on itself. A people who had attempted genocide in the name of their god had found him false and killed him. The philosophical debates about what it all meant went on for centuries.
An exception to this was The Cylon Fleet, which traded with the Tau’ri ships it encountered and eventually became a crucial source of Role Playing Games and a type of Anime.