The Last Iteration: All This Has Happened Before … Chapter 24
The Last Iteration: All This Has Happened Before …
Chapter 24: Among the Stars, Tread Lightly
Word Count: 2,130 words
Rating: T (PG-13)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my craziness in this nBSG/Voyager crossover story. Battlestar Galactica belongs to Glen A. Larson, Ron D. Moore, David Eick, the Sci-Fi Channel, various and sundry companies and whoever owns them. Star Trek: Voyager belongs to Gene Roddenberry, Rick Berman, Michael Piller, Jeri Taylor, Paramount Studios, UPN, Viacom and whoever else owns pieces of the Star Trek franchise.
Spoilers: For nBSG - to Crossroads Part 2; for ST:V - to Endgame. Everything beyond is definitely alternate universe and a fairly cracked one at that!
Summary: The survivors of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol and the crew of the intrepid starship Voyager must find a way to break the cycle …
The Last Iteration: All This Has Happened Before …
Chapter 24: Among the Stars, Tread Lightly
“Admiral?” Kathryn said in askance.
Adama’s eyes were sorrowful. “Two months ago, when Starbuck’s Viper went into that maelstrom-wormhole or whatever,” he said, “the Fleet was about ten thousand light years from here. Yet she shows up here, just when we arrive, in a bird that looks like it’s fresh from the manufacturer.”
Kathryn saw his dilemma immediately. “Ah, that is rather … convenient,” she said. “Has she offered any explanation?”
“No,” Adama replied. “She insisted that we check her gun camera for the pictures she took of the planet, its moon and constellations and compare them to the information we received from the Tomb of Athena on Kobol. The film is being developed right now.”
“Kobol?” Kathryn said in confusion.
“The birthplace of humanity,” Roslin replied simply.
“Then what is Earth?” Kathryn asked in shock.
“The home of the Thirteenth Tribe,” the Colonial president said hoarsely with dawning comprehension. “According to Scripture, after humanity was forced to flee Kobol, Twelve Tribes went on to found the Twelve Colonies, while the Thirteenth Tribe had struck out on its own some time earlier-and you’ve never heard of Kobol or the Thirteenth Tribe, have you?”
“No,” Kathryn replied, meeting her officers’ flabbergasted expressions. “Everything we know about the Earth that exists in our universe, from millennia of fossil evidence, to evolution and anthropology, to recorded history, has shown us that it is the birthplace of humanity.”
Roslin paled, and then took a deep breath to steady herself. “Our scriptures teach that Kobol is the birthplace of humanity,” she said quietly as she held Kathryn’s gaze. “It is said that humans lived on Kobol with the Gods. Then there came a time of tribulation and one of the Thirteen Tribes of Humanity left Kobol to settle Earth, a planet that circled a distant and unkown star. We think that it was once known to our people, but was lost over the millennia. However, two thousand years ago, there was a catastrophe on Kobol and the Twelve Tribes were forced to leave. The Gods created a great galleon to take them to their new home, a trinary system in which the Twelve Colonies of Kobol were settled. Two years ago we found Kobol, and we have been finding other clues and artifacts left behind by the Thirteenth Tribe that have pointed the way to Earth-the last clue we found led us to the Ionian Nebula.”
“I see,” Kathryn said quietly; it was obvious to her that somehow the question of who colonised whom had gotten muddled over the millennia-along with a lot of other things, no doubt. She would have to tread very carefully in her dealings with the Colonials if she didn’t want to shatter these people’s worldview. The fallout from such a blow to their faith could cause irreparable damage. “I can honestly say we’ve never heard of anything like that-it’s something we’ll have to research in Voyager’s archives when we get the time. In any case, we need to definitively pin down where this world Captain Thrace found is located, and why she’s so sure it’s Earth.”
“It sounds like it’s time to talk to Kara again,” Adama said.
Kathryn nodded and continued. “However, first things first-now that we know each other, and are speaking from a position of trust, there are some pressing matters we have to address about your fleet, Admiral Adama, Madam President,” she said gravely. “Since we’ve been speaking, I’ve made the decision to remain and defend this fleet.”
“Thank you, Captain Janeway,” Adama said hoarsely.
Roslin caught her breath; her eyes shone with unshed tears and her pale face flushed almost feverishly. “Yes,” she said, “on behalf of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, thank you very much, Captain Janeway.”
“You’re both welcome,” Kathryn replied. “But don’t roll out the red carpet just yet; my ship is small, with a crew compliment of only one hundred and forty-eight. Admiral Adama, you and your officers have no doubt already worked out the tactical limitations of my FTL systems in comparison to yours and the Cylons.”
Adama nodded grimly as she continued. “However, we can help by deploying our shuttles in support of your fighters and Raptors, while Voyager’s sensors can cover at least a twenty-five light year radius around the fleet,” she said and smiled as Gaeta whispered “Gods”.
“And now that we know what to look for, we can keep track of where the Cylons are for up to one hundred light years using astrometric sensors to follow their jumps. They won’t give us as much resolution, but it will help us keep track of their movements, and give us an early warning, if or when any other Cylon ships currently out of sensor range jump in.”
“That’s certainly … impressive,” Adama said smiling and Kathryn grinned.
“We aim to impress, sir,” she replied. “We’ve also noticed that your ships are in need of fuel-”
“You could say that,” he said tiredly. “Fuel, food, ore for parts-I don’t mind telling you that we are in a desperate way.”
Kathryn nodded. “Fuel first,” she said. “B’Elanna?”
“Aye Captain,” Torres replied consulting her handheld device. “From our scans, your ship uses a refined form of a transquarzite mineral, sir.”
“That’s correct,” Adama replied. “It’s called tylium.”
Torres grinned widely. “Then you’re in luck, sir,” she continued. “You see, we use as a warp catalyst, a rare compound called tellerium, which coincidentally we refine from a transquarzite mineral ore and throw away the contaminant-”
“By the Gods, you throw away tylium!” Agathon said in outrage.
“One man’s garbage is another man’s treasure, Captain Agathon,” Kathryn said chuckling. “After all, you throw away tellerium and paralithionic phosphine as part of the contaminants of your refinement process. Transquarzite paralithionic phosphene can be converted into crystalline dilithium-in a pinch-for use in powering our warp core.”
“Our scans show that the trace amounts of unrefined tellerium still contaminating your refinery ships’ holds are enough to keep Voyager going for at least a week,” Torres said excitedly. “We can only store refined tellerium for so long before it inactivates and we don’t have enough room to store the ore in bulk-it’s always a trade-off with other necessities. But if you’ll agree to separate the unrefined compound out from the slag before you dump the waste, and store it for us-and we’ll give you the storage containers and specs-we have maps of all the significant tylium deposits in this area of the galaxy that we’d be willing to share. In fact,” she said chuckling at their disbelieving stares, “we can tell you where you can pick up about two hundred and fifty tonnes of partially refined tylium ore right now.”
“Please don’t be joking about this,” Tigh said hoarsely.
“We would never joke about something like this, sir,” Torres replied still smiling. “Eight light years away is a system we’ve designated SB157. In our universe, it’s the location of one of the Federation’s most important facilities-Starbase 157. Not only is that starbase in a strategically important position along the Federation’s border with one of our enemies, the Romulans, but it guards a planetoid in that system, which has provided the Federation with fully one third of its tellerium needs for the last two hundred years without coming anywhere near to being exhausted. Until a week ago, we were there extracting as much tellerium as we could carry, and since you need to process about fifty tonnes of transquarzite ore to extract five hundred grams of refined tellerium, there is about two hundred and fifty tonnes of partially refined tylium sitting on the surface of that planetoid right now.”
Again there was silence before Roslin whispered hoarsely. “How can we thank you? You don’t know what a gods-sent miracle this is to us.”
“Believe me,” Kathryn replied gently. “We can imagine.” But the Colonial president’s increasingly alarming pallor was something she could ignore anymore. “However, Madam President, I was going to bring this up privately, but you seem very ill right now-”
Roslin’s eyes widened and Adama didn’t so much as move a muscle, yet his entire demeanour became extremely protective.
“That’s because she is very ill,” Cottle said in that gravel-crusher voice, which was at once both exasperated and filled with concern. “Damned-fool woman should be in a bed, not gallivanting about the ship.”
“I just need to get through this meeting,” Roslin said faintly. “We still have to address the issue of finding food-our food stores became contaminated a few months ago, and we’ve had nothing but algae since. With the Cylons constantly harassing us-”
“We may have an interim solution for that until we can forage for food plants and livestock,” Kathryn said quickly. “But first, perhaps we can help you, President Roslin.”
“Not unless you’ve got a cure for breast cancer in those little devices you’ve stuck to Tigh and Tory’s heads,” Cottle said drily. “I hope we’ve caught it early enough this time, but she’s just started the diloxin treatments.”
“This time?” Kathryn asked.
“She almost died of it about two years ago, but a scientist, Dr. Baltar, convinced me to let him use an experimental procedure on her involving fetal blood from Sharon’s daughter,” Cottle explained. “It sent the cancer into remission almost instantly, and for a while, it looked like she was cured, but a couple of weeks ago I noticed some abnormalities in her blood work from a routine check-up. I confirmed the relapse and have just started her on an aggressive course of diloxin chemotherapy. That’s why she’s so ill right now.”
“I see,” Kathryn replied. “Well, we don’t have the cure for cancer in the cortical monitors, Dr. Cottle, but we do however, have the cure for most cancers-both humanoid and non-humanoid-in our main computer. So unless President Roslin’s cancer has been caused by an exotic virus or plasmoidal parasite we haven’t encountered before, I can assure you that our doctor is well-versed in the treatments for human breast cancer.”
Kathryn watched Roslin’s flabbergasted expression slowly give way to one of hope. “If you would allow Lieutenant Wildman to scan you with her tricorder, Madam President, and send the information to our doctor, he can get started right away in devising a course of treatment,” she said, “and there are medications in the medkit that should give you some relief from the pain and fatigue-allow you to continue these discussions.”
Roslin said nothing, but sat shaking like a leaf, eyes brimming with unshed tears. Adama placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Do it!” he ordered.
Kathryn nodded to Wildman, who moved around the table to scan Roslin. After asking Adama to move out of the way, she scanned the Colonial president and then tapped a few commands into the instrument.
“Wildman to Voyager,” she said activating her commbadge.
“Chakotay here.”
“Commander, could you please connect me with the doctor?”
“One moment, Lieutenant,” Chakotay replied before the doctor’s terse voice came over the comm.
“Sickbay-how may I help you, Lieutenant?”
“Doctor, I’m sending some scans of the Colonial president,” Wildman replied.
“Hmm … so I see … Good Lord! Breast cancer?”
“Yes doctor,” Janeway said firmly, interrupting the tirade she knew was in the offing-a tirade that would no doubt offend these people. “Now, please determine the best course of treatment and have it and two alternative treatments to present to President Roslin within the next two days. But at this time, she needs to get through these meetings-”
“And you want me to approve a dose of five cc isoprovaline and two cc nextraphine,” he said.
“Affirmative, doctor,” Wildman said. “Are there any contra-indications with her current medications? Any issues with allergies?”
“She’s currently undergoing diloxin chemotherapy for the cancer, doctor,” Cottle said, “and taking Chamalla extract to help manage the pain and nausea.”
“Yes, and she’s probably having some lovely hallucinations as a side effect of using such a wonderful psychotropic cocktail of drugs,” Voyager’s doctor said acerbically.
“She can speak for herself,” Roslin said in annoyance, “and believe me, the hallucinations and nightmares are anything but lovely!”
“Understood, Ma’am, my apologies,” the doctor replied, and Kathryn thought she heard some real contrition in his voice. “Lieutenant Wildman, those dosages are fine, but I want you to also give her four cc oxyparodin. It will help neutralise the cytotoxic diloxin by-products that are building up in her tissues.”
“Thank you, doctor-Wildman out.” The young woman quickly filled two hyposprays with the indicated compounds and bent to dispense them against Roslin’s neck. “This won’t hurt at all,” she told the Colonial President, smiling as the instruments hissed, delivering their contents quickly and safely.
#
To Chapter 25
Chapter 24: Among the Stars, Tread Lightly
Word Count: 2,130 words
Rating: T (PG-13)
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my craziness in this nBSG/Voyager crossover story. Battlestar Galactica belongs to Glen A. Larson, Ron D. Moore, David Eick, the Sci-Fi Channel, various and sundry companies and whoever owns them. Star Trek: Voyager belongs to Gene Roddenberry, Rick Berman, Michael Piller, Jeri Taylor, Paramount Studios, UPN, Viacom and whoever else owns pieces of the Star Trek franchise.
Spoilers: For nBSG - to Crossroads Part 2; for ST:V - to Endgame. Everything beyond is definitely alternate universe and a fairly cracked one at that!
Summary: The survivors of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol and the crew of the intrepid starship Voyager must find a way to break the cycle …
The Last Iteration: All This Has Happened Before …
Chapter 24: Among the Stars, Tread Lightly
“Admiral?” Kathryn said in askance.
Adama’s eyes were sorrowful. “Two months ago, when Starbuck’s Viper went into that maelstrom-wormhole or whatever,” he said, “the Fleet was about ten thousand light years from here. Yet she shows up here, just when we arrive, in a bird that looks like it’s fresh from the manufacturer.”
Kathryn saw his dilemma immediately. “Ah, that is rather … convenient,” she said. “Has she offered any explanation?”
“No,” Adama replied. “She insisted that we check her gun camera for the pictures she took of the planet, its moon and constellations and compare them to the information we received from the Tomb of Athena on Kobol. The film is being developed right now.”
“Kobol?” Kathryn said in confusion.
“The birthplace of humanity,” Roslin replied simply.
“Then what is Earth?” Kathryn asked in shock.
“The home of the Thirteenth Tribe,” the Colonial president said hoarsely with dawning comprehension. “According to Scripture, after humanity was forced to flee Kobol, Twelve Tribes went on to found the Twelve Colonies, while the Thirteenth Tribe had struck out on its own some time earlier-and you’ve never heard of Kobol or the Thirteenth Tribe, have you?”
“No,” Kathryn replied, meeting her officers’ flabbergasted expressions. “Everything we know about the Earth that exists in our universe, from millennia of fossil evidence, to evolution and anthropology, to recorded history, has shown us that it is the birthplace of humanity.”
Roslin paled, and then took a deep breath to steady herself. “Our scriptures teach that Kobol is the birthplace of humanity,” she said quietly as she held Kathryn’s gaze. “It is said that humans lived on Kobol with the Gods. Then there came a time of tribulation and one of the Thirteen Tribes of Humanity left Kobol to settle Earth, a planet that circled a distant and unkown star. We think that it was once known to our people, but was lost over the millennia. However, two thousand years ago, there was a catastrophe on Kobol and the Twelve Tribes were forced to leave. The Gods created a great galleon to take them to their new home, a trinary system in which the Twelve Colonies of Kobol were settled. Two years ago we found Kobol, and we have been finding other clues and artifacts left behind by the Thirteenth Tribe that have pointed the way to Earth-the last clue we found led us to the Ionian Nebula.”
“I see,” Kathryn said quietly; it was obvious to her that somehow the question of who colonised whom had gotten muddled over the millennia-along with a lot of other things, no doubt. She would have to tread very carefully in her dealings with the Colonials if she didn’t want to shatter these people’s worldview. The fallout from such a blow to their faith could cause irreparable damage. “I can honestly say we’ve never heard of anything like that-it’s something we’ll have to research in Voyager’s archives when we get the time. In any case, we need to definitively pin down where this world Captain Thrace found is located, and why she’s so sure it’s Earth.”
“It sounds like it’s time to talk to Kara again,” Adama said.
Kathryn nodded and continued. “However, first things first-now that we know each other, and are speaking from a position of trust, there are some pressing matters we have to address about your fleet, Admiral Adama, Madam President,” she said gravely. “Since we’ve been speaking, I’ve made the decision to remain and defend this fleet.”
“Thank you, Captain Janeway,” Adama said hoarsely.
Roslin caught her breath; her eyes shone with unshed tears and her pale face flushed almost feverishly. “Yes,” she said, “on behalf of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, thank you very much, Captain Janeway.”
“You’re both welcome,” Kathryn replied. “But don’t roll out the red carpet just yet; my ship is small, with a crew compliment of only one hundred and forty-eight. Admiral Adama, you and your officers have no doubt already worked out the tactical limitations of my FTL systems in comparison to yours and the Cylons.”
Adama nodded grimly as she continued. “However, we can help by deploying our shuttles in support of your fighters and Raptors, while Voyager’s sensors can cover at least a twenty-five light year radius around the fleet,” she said and smiled as Gaeta whispered “Gods”.
“And now that we know what to look for, we can keep track of where the Cylons are for up to one hundred light years using astrometric sensors to follow their jumps. They won’t give us as much resolution, but it will help us keep track of their movements, and give us an early warning, if or when any other Cylon ships currently out of sensor range jump in.”
“That’s certainly … impressive,” Adama said smiling and Kathryn grinned.
“We aim to impress, sir,” she replied. “We’ve also noticed that your ships are in need of fuel-”
“You could say that,” he said tiredly. “Fuel, food, ore for parts-I don’t mind telling you that we are in a desperate way.”
Kathryn nodded. “Fuel first,” she said. “B’Elanna?”
“Aye Captain,” Torres replied consulting her handheld device. “From our scans, your ship uses a refined form of a transquarzite mineral, sir.”
“That’s correct,” Adama replied. “It’s called tylium.”
Torres grinned widely. “Then you’re in luck, sir,” she continued. “You see, we use as a warp catalyst, a rare compound called tellerium, which coincidentally we refine from a transquarzite mineral ore and throw away the contaminant-”
“By the Gods, you throw away tylium!” Agathon said in outrage.
“One man’s garbage is another man’s treasure, Captain Agathon,” Kathryn said chuckling. “After all, you throw away tellerium and paralithionic phosphine as part of the contaminants of your refinement process. Transquarzite paralithionic phosphene can be converted into crystalline dilithium-in a pinch-for use in powering our warp core.”
“Our scans show that the trace amounts of unrefined tellerium still contaminating your refinery ships’ holds are enough to keep Voyager going for at least a week,” Torres said excitedly. “We can only store refined tellerium for so long before it inactivates and we don’t have enough room to store the ore in bulk-it’s always a trade-off with other necessities. But if you’ll agree to separate the unrefined compound out from the slag before you dump the waste, and store it for us-and we’ll give you the storage containers and specs-we have maps of all the significant tylium deposits in this area of the galaxy that we’d be willing to share. In fact,” she said chuckling at their disbelieving stares, “we can tell you where you can pick up about two hundred and fifty tonnes of partially refined tylium ore right now.”
“Please don’t be joking about this,” Tigh said hoarsely.
“We would never joke about something like this, sir,” Torres replied still smiling. “Eight light years away is a system we’ve designated SB157. In our universe, it’s the location of one of the Federation’s most important facilities-Starbase 157. Not only is that starbase in a strategically important position along the Federation’s border with one of our enemies, the Romulans, but it guards a planetoid in that system, which has provided the Federation with fully one third of its tellerium needs for the last two hundred years without coming anywhere near to being exhausted. Until a week ago, we were there extracting as much tellerium as we could carry, and since you need to process about fifty tonnes of transquarzite ore to extract five hundred grams of refined tellerium, there is about two hundred and fifty tonnes of partially refined tylium sitting on the surface of that planetoid right now.”
Again there was silence before Roslin whispered hoarsely. “How can we thank you? You don’t know what a gods-sent miracle this is to us.”
“Believe me,” Kathryn replied gently. “We can imagine.” But the Colonial president’s increasingly alarming pallor was something she could ignore anymore. “However, Madam President, I was going to bring this up privately, but you seem very ill right now-”
Roslin’s eyes widened and Adama didn’t so much as move a muscle, yet his entire demeanour became extremely protective.
“That’s because she is very ill,” Cottle said in that gravel-crusher voice, which was at once both exasperated and filled with concern. “Damned-fool woman should be in a bed, not gallivanting about the ship.”
“I just need to get through this meeting,” Roslin said faintly. “We still have to address the issue of finding food-our food stores became contaminated a few months ago, and we’ve had nothing but algae since. With the Cylons constantly harassing us-”
“We may have an interim solution for that until we can forage for food plants and livestock,” Kathryn said quickly. “But first, perhaps we can help you, President Roslin.”
“Not unless you’ve got a cure for breast cancer in those little devices you’ve stuck to Tigh and Tory’s heads,” Cottle said drily. “I hope we’ve caught it early enough this time, but she’s just started the diloxin treatments.”
“This time?” Kathryn asked.
“She almost died of it about two years ago, but a scientist, Dr. Baltar, convinced me to let him use an experimental procedure on her involving fetal blood from Sharon’s daughter,” Cottle explained. “It sent the cancer into remission almost instantly, and for a while, it looked like she was cured, but a couple of weeks ago I noticed some abnormalities in her blood work from a routine check-up. I confirmed the relapse and have just started her on an aggressive course of diloxin chemotherapy. That’s why she’s so ill right now.”
“I see,” Kathryn replied. “Well, we don’t have the cure for cancer in the cortical monitors, Dr. Cottle, but we do however, have the cure for most cancers-both humanoid and non-humanoid-in our main computer. So unless President Roslin’s cancer has been caused by an exotic virus or plasmoidal parasite we haven’t encountered before, I can assure you that our doctor is well-versed in the treatments for human breast cancer.”
Kathryn watched Roslin’s flabbergasted expression slowly give way to one of hope. “If you would allow Lieutenant Wildman to scan you with her tricorder, Madam President, and send the information to our doctor, he can get started right away in devising a course of treatment,” she said, “and there are medications in the medkit that should give you some relief from the pain and fatigue-allow you to continue these discussions.”
Roslin said nothing, but sat shaking like a leaf, eyes brimming with unshed tears. Adama placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Do it!” he ordered.
Kathryn nodded to Wildman, who moved around the table to scan Roslin. After asking Adama to move out of the way, she scanned the Colonial president and then tapped a few commands into the instrument.
“Wildman to Voyager,” she said activating her commbadge.
“Chakotay here.”
“Commander, could you please connect me with the doctor?”
“One moment, Lieutenant,” Chakotay replied before the doctor’s terse voice came over the comm.
“Sickbay-how may I help you, Lieutenant?”
“Doctor, I’m sending some scans of the Colonial president,” Wildman replied.
“Hmm … so I see … Good Lord! Breast cancer?”
“Yes doctor,” Janeway said firmly, interrupting the tirade she knew was in the offing-a tirade that would no doubt offend these people. “Now, please determine the best course of treatment and have it and two alternative treatments to present to President Roslin within the next two days. But at this time, she needs to get through these meetings-”
“And you want me to approve a dose of five cc isoprovaline and two cc nextraphine,” he said.
“Affirmative, doctor,” Wildman said. “Are there any contra-indications with her current medications? Any issues with allergies?”
“She’s currently undergoing diloxin chemotherapy for the cancer, doctor,” Cottle said, “and taking Chamalla extract to help manage the pain and nausea.”
“Yes, and she’s probably having some lovely hallucinations as a side effect of using such a wonderful psychotropic cocktail of drugs,” Voyager’s doctor said acerbically.
“She can speak for herself,” Roslin said in annoyance, “and believe me, the hallucinations and nightmares are anything but lovely!”
“Understood, Ma’am, my apologies,” the doctor replied, and Kathryn thought she heard some real contrition in his voice. “Lieutenant Wildman, those dosages are fine, but I want you to also give her four cc oxyparodin. It will help neutralise the cytotoxic diloxin by-products that are building up in her tissues.”
“Thank you, doctor-Wildman out.” The young woman quickly filled two hyposprays with the indicated compounds and bent to dispense them against Roslin’s neck. “This won’t hurt at all,” she told the Colonial President, smiling as the instruments hissed, delivering their contents quickly and safely.
#
To Chapter 25