Basestar (NuBSG Cylon SI) by Gumbikhan

Synopsis: A maintenance man is shocked and finds himself in the body of an armless Cylon War Era Centurion as Commander of a Basestar encountering the Rag Tag Fleet.

Rated: T

Words: 140k

Link: https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/basestar-nubsg-cylon-si.872821/reader/

Valmar Remarks: Personally my interest in this one waned a bit once it started delving too deep into seemingly metaphysical aspects (much like how I didn't like the elements in the shows ending) but overall it is still a decent read, especially if you're already a fan BSG. This is one of the few stories where the protagonist is technically an AI/Machine for that alone its worth noting. It's a rare niche to find. The chapters themselves can feel a bit short at times but thankfully there are a lot of them and it totals out a surprisingly high wordcount.

________________________________

Chapter 1:

"That's the fuse right there," Gary said.

"You're sure?" I asked, staring into the electrical panel. I hated my job. I hated my senior maintenance electrician. "Power's off and the panel's dead right?"

"Yep," Gary replied in a bored tone as he looked over my shoulder. "Just pull it already. Lunch is in a couple minutes."

"Alright," I said, reaching for the fuse with my protective gloves. I grabbed it and woke up staring at a hatch. I saw everything differently. A heads up display gave indication of my body, power, system runtime. "Huh." A robotic voice said in a monotone drone. The displays on the heads up enlarged as I looked at each. I could feel myself accessing them in the back of my processors.

I looked at the scene before me. My processors registering, I was repeating processors and not mind. Images begin trickling into my run times. Stored data unlocked. What am I? Why am I not thinking about memories? I stood before Number One. He ordered the Centurions to report to maintenance for a fresh refit to bring us up to date like the newer models...

I registered what I was observing before me. Consoles. Fallen Centurions, older 0005 models and new 0017s. Bullet scoring on the bulkheads, hatches. Consoles blown out. The lights flickered but my low light capabilities clicked on automatically. I could read the languages displayed. It was status reports for a frakking Basestar. An old model. Most of the systems had been set on lower power.

"Frak," I said in a monotone drone. "I cannot even curse properly. Motherfrakker. GARY, this is your fault! I enjoyed fracking cursing!"

"Apologies, Commander," another monotone voice droned behind me.

I went to move an arm and run a hand down my face. Alarms signaled on my head's up display and errors came to the forefront of my processors. I couldn't register my arms. Not that I could accurately register anything too much in the same manner as before. I looked down. My arms had been destroyed above the elbows.

A video of a 0017 firing as it entered through a hatch played. A dozen other 0017s and a score of 0005s battled one another in the command and control of the basestar. I leveled my heavy machine gun and fired at the boarding centurion. It's chest was dented, then punctured. It collapsed before the overhead hatch shut on top of it. I started to pivot and my arms were detached. I stared into the face plate of another 0017 with its claws extended. I raised my leg and kicked it fully in the abdomen to send it stumbling backwards. Another 0005 fired a short burst at the boarder and brought it down by destroying its head. The 0005 stumbled then collapsed from a gaping wound in its torso.

I turned around and saw GRY-0014 looking at me with its single red eye. "Are you able to assist me, Commander?" Gary lacked arms at the shoulders and legs at the knees.

"Gary, you have requested that four thousands nine hundred and thirteen times as of now." I looked at my stubs for arms. "I was unable to assist any of the previous times what makes this time different?"

"Uncertain," Gary replied. "Perhaps something has changed."

I lowered my head. "Gary, are you stupid? Think! Are your processing units damaged?"

"Commander, you did not answer my request however. Are you able to assist me, Commander?"

While I may not have had arms to strangle Gary I had legs and could kick him but an alarm sounded on a console. I moved to the console. "Dradis contact. Single Colonial Raptor."

"Frak," Gary said in a monotone drone.

"That's better Gary."

"I don't want to die as a frakking torso. Are you able to assist me, Commander?"

"GARY! I swear to god!" I sighed although it came out as garbled static. "Well, at least your request is changing somewhat. I'm taking a walk."

"Can I come, Commander?"

"Not unless it's kick the can."

"I will call once we are boarded."

"Our wireless communication units are damaged, Gary."

Gary was quiet for a moment as he processed the predicament. "I will shout out loudly when we are boarded, Commander."

"That's better, Gary," I said in a monotone voice as I exited the Command Center of the Basestar to patrol the ship once again. The corridor was full of deactivated battle damaged Cylon. I pushed them to the sides to clear a path to the Command Center as a stupid plan began spinning around my processors. I was limited without hands or even arms. My two comrades, shared worse predicaments. The basestar systems were on low power modes, stand by, or completely disabled in the fighting. It did wonders for energy conservation my memory showed but offered me little tangible aid. How did I end up in this predicament?

******************** Battlestar Galactica

"Our fuel supply is desperate, Madame President," Commander Adama said. He sipped his water in his quarters.

"I do not like this, Commander. It's too risky."

He sighed and set the glass down on the table. He knew this was going to be task all its own. "It's a military matter. Tylium stores are dangerously low. It's been thirty five days since leaving Ragnar Station. Those three old Basestars could have the fuel we need. We'll empty their stores and go over them for anything we could use."

"It's most likely a trap, Commander," Roslin replied. "You have to see that."

"I do but what other option is there? We have enough fuel for one more jump with the fleet. The recon team reported what appeared to be heavy fighting between First War Centurions and new models. More than that, the fuel stores for the ship they boarded was almost full. That alone will fill Galactica. If there's more, we'll send a Raptor back to order the Fleet to jump to the location. It's risk but a calculated one we desperately need. There's also the intelligence on why the Cylons were fighting one another."

Roslin rubbed the bridge of her nose as she looked down for a moment. "Alright, Commander. I understand and will agree with you that it's a calculated risk we need to take."

******************** Cylon Basestar

"Commander, I wish to be assistance," the third Cylon said in a monotone voice.

I looked at the Cylon, MLS-1201. "Miles, how can you assist?"

"I can," Miles looked down at his missing arms and lower half of his body, "I can assist monitoring the consoles, Commander."

Gary looked at Miles then at the Commander. "Why does he get to frakking help? Miles is missing more of his components than I am."

I glared at Gary. "Miles can assist because he hasn't requested assistance five thousand twenty three times as of yet."

Gary turned away and slumped slightly against the consoles as I shoved Miles with my feet so he could monitor a console. He was clearly pouting. I thought about the predicament I was in. An armless First Cylon War Centurion.

"Colonial Raptors have docked with Basestar," Miles announced. His red eye scanned the displays in front of him. "Single Battlestar detected. Jupiter Class."

I had the memory of that stored in my, head and chest a popup announced on HUD. Somehow that memory hadn't interfered with my human memories, my persona. I theorized it was because the Cylon memories ran in the background and not at the forefront. I could access them as needed but it wasn't running at the forefront of operations so to speak.

"Frak me!" a human shouted. "We've got active Cylons."

"Humans in the Command Center!" Gary announced. "I can assist as well."

"We wish to negotiate vital intelligence to your Commander," I said in as non threatening of a tone as I could manage in my new found monotone manner. I moved to raise my arms and alarms registered on my HUD and systems. I hoped the universe hadn't shifted too much to put me here. I hadn't realized the boarders had moved forward quite so fast. I'd been lost in subroutines that ate up my processing power apparently. I scanned my eye over the human boarders. Four marines and a pilot I recognized. Starbuck leveled her rifle at me..."Frak my existence."