Site Themes:  ColonialViperCylon
Skip to Contents

Talented Cally


Title: Talented Cally
Author: chaos_eternus
Word Count: 4,116
Date: 08/11/04
Rating: T
Category: Challenge response: Supernatural, Crewman Cally, Crossover
Warnings: none...
Summary: The Talents of earth make contact with Galactica
Spoilers/Disclaimers: miniseries

For the record: I do not own, nor do I claim ownership of characters or concepts from Battlestar Galactica or Anne McCaffrey's Tower and The Hive Series.
If anything I have described shows up in a future BSG episode or Anne McCaffrey book, I will not sue or in anyway try to claim ownership. Everyone else, keep your dirty hands off!

“We should just pull the valve and bypass the whole system” Cally glanced down at Tyrol from her perch on the engine mount of the Viper.

            “We can't do that, the relay will overload”

            “It'll hold!” Cally shouted, she knew it would hold she could sense it, sense the strength of this Craft, knew it was a strong craft, knew it would hold. Not all craft would, not even of the same design but this none would.

            She didn't know how she knew, what arcane sense had always told her when everything was okay, or when a circuit was eroded, when a pipeline was blocked or when a part needed replacement, but she always knew, like the knowledge of the craft she was working on was somehow empathically engrained into her soul.

            It had therefore felt natural for her to join the Colonial Military, to place Viper maintenance down as her preferred assignment. Like she somehow belonged amongst craft needing work, like she was somehow meant to do this.

            In what she learned was a extremely rare event, akin to Colonial Intelligence actually showing signs of intelligence Cally got the assignment she wanted too, the plumiest assignment in fact, repairing Vipers aboard the Old Lady of the fleet, Galactica.

            She felt at home as soon as she saw those Vipers arrayed on the deck.

            She knew Tyrol had seen it in her eyes as well, that was why Tyrol had dumped her on Rook Watch so fast, despite the fact that technically she was still a Rook herself, Tyrol knew somebody who knew what they were doing, someone who like him, lived for the Craft on their deck and respected it, nurtured the instinct almost.

            Prosna was the first Rook she had taken under her wing, and rapidly they became her friends. Prosna was good but he wasn't exceptional, he would do, and especially with the outbreak of War, he would have to.



            Cally grimaced, almost weeping as she held her head in her arms, trying to stop the voices that constantly pounded through.

            The further and further they got from Colonial space, the louder the voices became. It had started after the discovery that the Cylons had compromised the Olympic Carrier, that night… well, that morning to be exact; she had finally gotten her first sleep since the war began only to be woken up with a start by a faint voice in her head screaming about Hivers approaching the rear of the fleet.

            She had lain awake an hour, adrenaline coursing through her as she waited for the call to General Quarters, to find out what the Hivers were, what they wanted but it hadn't happened and she hadn't noticed when she managed to fall asleep again.

            But the voices had returned, getting louder and louder the further they moved past the Red Line. It had started to affect her work. She snorted a little, even Tyrol between ‘visits' from Boomer had noticed. From his actions though, she suspected he thought she was just having a particularly bad that time of the month.

            She wished, at least she knew what caused that; at least she knew it would end for a while but this was something else.

            Gasping, she sank to the floor, holding her head as a powerful heaviness set in, like something was pressing on her mind, the full weight of a Battlestar perhaps, the thought flickered before being overwhelmed by the sheer weight pounding into her mind.

            The sensation vanished abruptly, and Cally gasped with relief then gasped, cursing tearfully as Tighs voice sounded over the intercom, sounding the call to General Quarters, an odd tone in his voice.

            *Who are you? What are you doing in Star League space with a warship?*

            Cally gasped despairingly as the voice sounded in her mind, loud feeling almost painfully close.

            *You don't know what you are?* the voice was startled, then it quietened, becoming almost compassionate, *Prime Rojer Lyon at your service, I am on the Star League Destroyer on your Port Bow, it seems I have a lot to teach you, Prime*

            Cally sank back into her bed, head bowed as the noise flowed away from her mind, as if some outside force was erecting a barrier around her, to keep the voices, the overwhelming impressions that weren't hers away.

            For the first time in a month, Cally slept peacefully.


            Rojer shrugged, his arm draped companionably around his new wife, Asia, “I beg to differ Commander, we didn't find you. We found Cally”

            Adama's eyes shot up towards his brow, “Excuse me?”

            “Earth Prime, he's the head of Federal Teleporters and Telepathists Limited and arguably the most powerful Talent in existence, brushed up against Callys mind whilst reaching for me and the Genesee. He knew there were no FT and T in this area, nor were their any Alliance craft on which their might be an untrained Talent. We were ‘lifted' into this area to investigate”

            “Lifted?” Tigh asked, just beating Roslin to it.

            “Moved by Telekinetic means” Rojer winced slightly, “Cally will need training, she is Prime material, the sheer power required to move a Destroyer into the area can't have been fun for her at all”

            “Now” Rojer leaned forward, his manner turning serious, knife edged, “tell me about these Cylons….”



            Number Six was edgy, she had been placed in charge of operations in the occupied territories a long time ago and in that time she had forced off just one attack by surviving Colonial Forces, destroyed civilian survivors by the thousands and had some fun playing around with Helo's mind before his mysterious disappearance.

            Her power here, so long as she kept within the almost non-existent guidelines set down by their religion, had been unchallenged, until now.

            Her outer picket ships had abruptly stopped transmitting, and thermonuclear detonations had been detected in their vicinity. None of the missing ships had got a warning out, nothing to suggest they had been attacked, they were just gone. Several were literally cut off mid-transmission.

            And now, ships were registering on her sensors.

            Two Battlestars, she suspected they were Galactica and Pegasus as they were the only two known to have survived, but Vigilant, Despite, Warhawk and Pheonix had never been confirmed destroyed either, Highly probable yes, confirmed no.

            Those two ships weren't her worry however, the other twenty were.

            They were unknown, totally. The configurations matched no known Colonial design and from what the sensors could see at the admittedly extended range the group was at, they didn't appear to match the Colonial way of building ships at all. She would have wondered if Galactica had made contact with the thirteenth colony, except the unknown ships appeared to follow two different patterns totally.

            It was possible that one group was from Earth, which was in itself a bad thing, but the other group would most likely be somebody new, possibly alien, and that scared the frak out of her. God had never mentioned Aliens; God had said that Cylons would be ascendant, rule the Galaxy as her servants as soon as the humans were dealt with, that there were no other threats out there.

            This seemed to directly contradict that.

            She would know more once the stealthy recon she had sent, a single raider in minimal power mode, returned from its mission.

            Then one of her technical drones reported that transmissions on Colonial Fighter frequencies had peaked, and she just knew that the raider would not be returning.


            *Thian, I just got the report back on that probe you lifted*

            *Anything new Roj?*

            *Nothing unexpected, just confirms signs of old habitation and thermonuclear bombardment*

            Thian sent a way of sympathy through the telepathic link to his younger Brother, *We knew what we would find, the Colonials warned us remember? Adama and Roslin even volunteered for a telepathic probe in order to show us what truly happened here*

            *I know, but…*

            Thian waited, Rojer would tell him what had him so disturbed in time, he was just searching for the best way. It was one of the advantages of telepathy; you always knew what the other was truly thinking.

            *Thian, my last probe was sent through Caprica city itself*

            Thian gagged, resisting the urge to vomit, but only just, as Rojer sent his unfiltered and uncensored memories of the pass through that city. Primes had photographic memories; most times it was a blessing. Now, Thian knew for sure that it was a curse as the fading echo of millions of voices screaming in pain, fear and bewilderment shot through his mind.

            He heard a telepathic voice screaming, ‘oh god, oh god' and shocked, he realized it was his. He clamped down instinctively on his thoughts, roughly bringing himself back under control. He knew all to well that there were fewer things more dangerous then a High grade Talent who was out of control, even for a moment.

            *Change of plan* Thian managed to gasp out mentally, *Full Talent restriction, I want everyone with the remotest hint of talent kept away from those worlds unless absolutely necessary*

            Thian didn't ‘say' it, but Roj heard it anyway, *these worlds are lost to us, even if they can be salvaged, no race with ESP potential can use them ever again, too much death*

            *Well, not for centuries anyway* Roj replied, thinking of several areas in the area around Old Germany which had repelled Talents for years, but noticeably less so in modern times.

            *Guys?* the voice of ‘Gravy', Thian's wife, cut into their thoughts, *Ashiant just gave me the final count, sixteen Baseships, one in orbit over each planet plus four on patrol plus a hellacious number of fighters, he would like a standard lift and kill*

            Rojer's faint, shaky smile came through as he replied, *lift and kill... you know, for a supposedly apolitical and pacifistic bunch, we're getting pretty good at killing other beings*

            *You do what you must for the survival of yourselves and our species* Gravy replied, kindly, *the Mirdini especially understand that*

            *The Mirdini can reincarnate… after a fashion, humans cant* Thian pointed out.

            *True perhaps,* Gravy replied, *but engineering reports the generators are running sweet, and you have work to do*


            Six couldn't see the activity going on around the fleet hanging around the edges of the system; she didn't know that the unidentified ships were Earth human and Mirdini. Didn't know that the humans from Earth and Earth's Colonies contained powerful psychics, from telepaths to clairvoyants and telekinetic's in their populations.

            Didn't know that two of the most powerful Talents were with the fleet, preparing to destroy the cylons.

            It came as a total shock to her then, when her main group of ships, the four basestars patrolling the system, just died, thermonuclear explosions destroying their hulls from the inside out.

            Shocked, and fearful, she ordered every fighter and ship in the area to attack the hostile warfleet. The fighters swarmed in, quickly being engaged by the Colonial Vipers, and missiles from the unknown warships, the basestars dieing one by one before they even arrived.

            She never saw the Cylon fighters being swept up as if by the hand of God, and thrown into the sun. By then, she was already on the homeworld, cursing the cylon ability to reincarnate into a new body. She had no doubt that the Colonies belonged once more to the Colonials and their allies. She had no doubt that they were coming after the rest of the Cylon next.

            The time of the Cylons had been brief, but it was at an end