(Author's Note: This is a prequel to the 'Battlestar Victorious' series. The idea came from two places. The first was a desire to try to flesh out the character of Scott Tolan, and also show part of William Adama's days as commander of the Valkyrie. The background of the opening scene can be found in Volume Two, Chapter Eleven of the Victorious series.)
Chapter One: Cloak & Dagger
Six Years before the fall
Caprica City, Zeleia Enterprises:
Robert Reynolds, Executive Vice President, sat in his corner office on the Seventy-Sixth floor of the Sabian Tower in the Harran district of Caprica City.
It was almost three in the afternoon, and he was preparing to cut his day short to leave for an extended weekend with his wife, Monique. The door to his office was flung open and his first instinct was to grab the phone and yell his secretary for allowing such an interruption to occur.
Instead he looked up and immediately recognized the man who was standing in the doorway, the look of barely contained anger was written all over the man's features. This man was none other than Commander Scott Edward Tolan. The former Executive Officer of the Battlestar Atlantia, and the now recently appointed Commanding Officer of the Battlestar Vanguard.
He quietly asked his secretary to come and close the door. Also, he told her he was not to be disturbed for any reason as he had important business with the Colonial Fleet officer, and then silenced the speaker on the phone before she could respond.
"Well what have I done to earn this visit, Commander Tolan – how's Bridget?" He asked with a forced civility. The two men had a history and it was not a pleasant one.
When Scott Tolan had finished his last tour of duty on the Galactica, he had been selected to attend Advanced Tactical Training (A.T.T.). When the training was over, he had finished in the top five percent of his class. He had downtime while waiting for his next assignment, which would be on the battlestar Mercury. In light of his time off, he decided to spend a night on the town in Caprica City.
At Club Tavares he met a Bridget Woods. When all was said and done, they'd ended up in bed at his Caprica City condo for the whole weekend. He had no idea that, not only was Bridget a recent graduate from the Fleet Academy, but she also engaged, and was to be married in the near future.
The whole thing had been a setup by Bridget's then-best friend Monique, who had used the opportunity to get her in a compromising situation so that she could make a play for Robert. When Reynolds found out, the two men had an angry confrontation that ended up with Scott severely fracturing the man's shin.
Monique's plan had worked, the wedding was called off and Bridget had to answer for what had ensued. It was close, but she and Scott had managed to avoid having their careers ruined by a fraternization scandal. The fact that neither knew the other was in the Colonial Fleet may have played a part.
Both had moved on from it, and now Scott was the CO of the battlestar Vanguard, and Bridget was his XO. Robert had never forgiven Bridget for cheating on him, and neither Scott for seducing his fiancée or for almost crippling him. He had used his money and influence to inconvenience the two. Scott had to endure rumors about his professional and personal life. As for Bridget, well Robert had made sure she would never find love or receive it from any man. He had people who kept tabs on her, and when she would move on to a new relationship…well, the man in question would find it financially beneficial to sever ties with Bridget and move on. It had cost him a decent amount of money over the years, but money was not an issue with him and he enjoyed the personal satisfaction it brought.
"How's the leg?" Scott asked, referencing the right shin he had broken that day they first met.
"A bit of trouble every now and then…don't give yourself too much credit." Robert then dropped his civility and asked, "How's the wife?"
"Now we can cut to the chase," Scott announced before continuing. "She heard a story that had been circulating about her miscarriage, the one that she almost died from. You wouldn't happen to know about that?"
By this time Scott had walked over and sat on the edge of the desk across from Reynolds, and seemed ready to pounce on a moment's notice.
"I may have heard a rumor about that." The glow of satisfaction hinting in his eyes as he spoke.
Scott smiled, "Really, well please enlighten me."
Robert leaned in, "I heard that her husband may have physically abused her."
Scott leaned closer, "Please go on," wanting him to continue.
"I heard that he abused her so badly that she lost the baby and almost died because of it."
"You have no idea where this rumor came from?"
"I may have an idea, but I'd never tell you."
Robert was not prepared for what happened next. In a swift movement, Scott catapulted himself over the table and tackled him. The move knocked his chair over with him still in it. Before he could react, Scott had grabbed his tie and tightened the knot to the point that it began to choke him – putting his training to the best possible use.
"I can't breathe!" he tried to shout, but it was barely a whisper.
"That's because I'm choking you, you bastard!" Scott hissed at him, wanting to squeeze the life out of the little rat now occupying the space below him.
Scott released the grip and Robert quickly loosened his tie, but in the time it took for that to happen Scott had drawn his sidearm and had it pointed squarely at the man's face.
"Do I have your attention?" Scott snapped.
Robert wanted to say something, but instead just nodded.
"Good because I hate having to repeat myself," Scott said calmly before continuing. "You hate me for sleeping with Bridget and you're entitled to that. However, I do not appreciate your dragging my wife into this. Emily wasn't in the picture when this happened, and right now she is in a delicate situation. Are you following me?"
Robert just nodded once more.
"That's good, because if you spread one more lie about her I can assure you that it will end badly for you and that two-timing skank you call a wife. Leave Emily alone, let Bridget get on with her life for a change, and don't give me a reason to come back and visit you. Are we clear?" The speech left his throat in a rough tone of voice, no doubt intimidating.
Finally Robert found his voice, "Crystal."
"Glad to hear it. Now sit yourself up and get situated because I'm going to walk out that door and no one will be the wiser."
Scott got off of him and gave him time to set his chair back up and get situated as though nothing had happened.
"Just to give you fair warning Robert, pull a stunt like this again and you will regret the day your father had an itch in his pants and conceived you."
Robert said nothing, but kept getting himself situated. When that was done Scott walked out the door calling behind him, "I'm glad we got to talk, Mr. Reynolds. Have a good day!"
Robert got up from his chair, "The same to you, Commander Tolan!" He then closed the door and began shaking violently.
Sabian Tower, Front Entrance:
As Scott left the building he was approached by a young woman wearing a Colonial Fleet uniform.
"Commander Tolan?" she asked.
He gave her a surmising glance and then said, "Yes, and who are you?"
"Lieutenant Myra Aperlae. I've been sent on behalf of Admiral Corman. He wishes to speak with you, sir."
"Very well, Lieutenant; can you tell me why?" Tolan said as the two walked to the limo parked not far from the entrance to the Tower."
"I'm not at liberty to say, sir. Admiral Corman told me that he needed you at the Executive Mansion immediately."
Tolan stopped, "Wait a minute…I'm needed at the President's house?"
"Yes sir, Admiral Corman could not express enough how important it is that you meet with him there."
Tolan picked up his pace and wondered what President Richard Adar, a man he did not even vote for in the last election, could possibly want with him.
Executive Mansion (Presidential Private Quarters):
Upon arriving at the Executive Mansion, Tolan was escorted to what he guessed was a formal sitting area in the private quarters of the President and his family.
"Have a seat, Commander; the President will be here to see you shortly," his escort said before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
Instead of taking a seat, Tolan walked around the room and took stock of his surroundings. The walls were done in a bright white, adorned by many pictures and paintings. Located on the opposite wall was a marble fireplace with various photos situated on the mantle. It seemed to him that every member of the family was accounted for on the fireplace.
"The young man in the photo to your left is my son Benjamin; he's a pilot on the battlestar Avaris."
Scott turned around and found himself face to face with President Adar and an admiral.
"Commander Tolan, I don't know if you have met Admiral Peter Corman before," Adar said.
"Sir…"Scott said as he saluted the officer and his Commander-in-Chief.
"At ease, Commander; have a seat," Corman said motioning to a pair of couches and chairs situated around a coffee table.
Scott took a seat in one of the chairs. Corman took the couch to his right, while Adar sat in the chair across the table from him.
"Commander, have you been following the news lately?"
Tolan shook his head, "Not as much as I normally do."
Corman placed a photo down on the table where Tolan could see it. "Her name is Rachael Adar, President Adar's niece."
Tolan said nothing as Admiral Corman carried on, "She is the daughter of President Adar's younger sister, Renee. Approximately three days ago they were on a visit to Virgon when their shuttle seemingly vanished. Yesterday we received a ransom demand from a secessionist group known as the Sagittaron Liberation Army."
"I'm sorry to hear that they were kidnapped, but now I have two questions. The first: how can you be sure they are really in this group's custody? And the other: what does this have to do with me?"
"According to your profile you have ties to the Basileus crime syndicate on Canceron," Adar interjected before Corman could say something.
Tolan nodded, "That is correct; my late grandfather was the founder of the Basileus. I would like to remind both of you that I have distanced myself as far as I can from the 'family businesses."
"You have to understand that we have heard rumors to the contrary," Corman said, leafing through what Scott was certain was his personnel file.
"Just what do these rumors say about me?"
"That you have been running a smuggling ring on the Vanguard in the short time that you've been in command of the battlestar."
"I have an idea as to who started that rumor, and I can assure you that it is not true!" Tolan said defensively. He began to wish he had done more to Robert Reynolds when he paid him a visit earlier in the day.
"You have to look at it from our perspective…this is something that can be of value to us," Adar said.
Corman then spoke up, "We doubt the rumors are true, but for the purpose of helping with this situation it can be useful."
Tolan arched an eyebrow, "Useful, how?"
"You can use your blood ties to the Basileus and your rumored weapons smuggling to gain access to the S.L.A. and perhaps attempt a rescue mission if at all possible."
Tolan, who had earlier felt his anger rise over the rumor, suddenly realized what they were getting at.
"You want me to go undercover into a group that has no love for Colonial society, and use my last name as well as the reputation that goes along with it," he said making sure he had the gist of the operation.
"That is our plan, but if you agree we can give you a more details, commander," Corman said.
"I'm putting my reputation and probably my career on the line by doing this. I want at least something in return for my help," Tolan said to the two men.
Both looked flabbergasted at this. Adar finally said, "Commander Tolan, there are two innocent lives at stake here. That should be all the incentive you need!"
Tolan simply smiled at him, "If there is one thing I've learned about politics, it's that it is a business built on favors. You haven't ordered me to do anything, you are asking for my help. Now I'm asking for your good faith that there will be compensation for my risk."
Corman was going to say something, but Adar held a silencing hand up, "You have a point, Commander Tolan. You do this for me, and I will do something for you. I take it you want a fast-track to Admiral?"
Tolan shook his head, "Far from it, if I get flag rank it will be of my own doing. I have a thirteen-year old cousin named Lacey. I want you to personally sponsor her for the Fleet Academy. You guarantee me that, and I will go to whatever ends necessary to bring your sister and niece back."
"I promise that Lacey…Tolan, that is her last name right?" Adar asked. When Tolan nodded he continued, "Miss Tolan will have a spot at the Fleet Academy waiting for her when she graduates high school. Now, Commander, can I count on your help?"
"Not just yet. I have a hard time trusting politicians, so forgive me for wanting a copy of that note you've just written. Fax it to the Vanguard, and then you will have my assistance." Scott did not trust Adar, how could he – the man was a sadist, who's only concern was his own ass.
A few minutes later Tolan received confirmation that the note had been faxed to the Vanguard, "Alright, you can count me in. What all do you need me to do?"
Corman began explaining his plan right away, "You are to go to Canceron and convince whoever is in charge of the Basileus to send out feelers to the S.L.A., and then you are to rendezvous with the battlestar Valkyrie."
"Who is in command of the Valkyrie?" Tolan asked. It was a simple question, but it kept his mind off of the one part that really bothered him.
"That would be Commander William Adama. From there you will board the scout ship Sica, and with a small handpicked crew, you will make your way to the main base of the S.L.A. once you have its location."
"Has Adama been given the same briefing?" Tolan inquired, hoping that this would be the case.
"Essentially the same briefing has been given to him. There were some different tactical details concerning the Valkyrie instead of your particular mission. In terms of this operation, he knows as much as you do," Corman stated.
"Will the Valkyrie be on station in case something goes wrong?" Tolan asked.
"The Valkyrie will be there. I feel deploying more than one battlestar will draw attention that we rather do without."
"I'll head to Canceron the first chance I get and see what I can arrange. Is there anything else I should be aware of?"
There was a moment of silence before Adar spoke, "I will have two of my agents from the Ministry of Intelligence meet you on Canceron, they will be with you for the duration of the mission. Don't worry about finding them, Commander – they'll find you."
Tolan nodded, and shook Adar's hand. He gave a crisp salute to Admiral Corman, and then left the room to make arrangements for his trip to Canceron.
"That went well, Admiral; do you think he'll be able to get the job done?" Adar asked Corman.
"I still don't know what to make of him, but all we can do is wait and see how this plays out. However, we can always have a Plan B or C waiting in case Tolan fails."
"Do you have another suggestion for how to get this done?" Adar asked.
"We have a second team, a shadow group, go in behind Tolan and try a rescue if the situation arises. They will stay out of contact until such time so that they don't compromise themselves."
"Who do you have in mind for this?"
"My aide, Lt. Myra Aperlae, is my first choice. Her file says plenty of her tactical knowledge. I think we can use our stealth technology on a scout ship and send it to wherever the S.L.A. is keeping the hostages at."
Adar nodded his head, "Make it happen, Admiral Corman."
Three Days Later, Amarna, Canceron:
Scott Tolan stood outside the Iasos Restaurant in the city of Amarna. He knew what he had to do, but that did not mean he cared to do it. He had spent the years since the death of his brother, Andrew, trying to distance himself from the Basileus as best he could. Five years ago when his grandfather, Carl Tolan, had passed away there had been a family feud over who would take control of the organization. The answer finally came when Lydia Zeresi, the oldest of Carl's daughters, managed to wrest control of the Basileus from her siblings and other rivals in the crime syndicate.
"As I live and breathe, it's the prodigal son himself!" a voice declared loudly behind him. He turned and was face to face with his cousin Levi Zeresi.
He walked up and the two men shook hands and hugged. "Even I have to come home every once in a while."
"You look good, Scotty. So tell me, Ace, is it business or pleasure that's brought you?"
"Do you want to know or does Aunt Lydia want to know?" Scott asked.
"A bit of both actually. It's not that she wasn't happy to hear from you, but you have to admit it's hard to not be paranoid after recent events."
"I don't think I've ever done this, but I need to ask her for a favor. You go in there and let her know that I mean her no harm."
"You got it!" Levi said as he turned and headed into the restaurant.
"Drop me in the middle of the Carura Desert, bury me up to my head in the sands of Caprica Beach, and I would still prefer that to having to ask that woman for a favor," Scott said quietly in case anyone nearby could hear him.
A minute or so later Levi came through the entrance and motioned for Scott to follow him. He entered the wooden double doors and made his way into the subdued lighting of the five-star restaurant.
Iasos Restaurant (Private Suite):
On the second floor of the restaurant were private suites that could be used for small gatherings. One of these was permanently reserved for the head of the Basileus.
Scott was flanked by two hulking bodyguards; their names he did not bother to ask, nor did they bother to give. They simply glared at him and when it came time to enter his aunt's private suite, the two men began to search his clothing from head to toe.
"Easy there boys, you keep searching me like that and I might get the wrong impression," Scott said teasingly, though the men just glared at him with ill-concealed hostility.
"It's been a few years Scott; what brings you here to see me?" Lydia Zeresi asked from her seat at the head of the table. She was dressed in exquisite clothing, and looked younger than her age would have suggested.
Scott walked up to her and the two exchanged formal kisses on the cheeks. Each said, "Basu" to one another. This word, in the ancient tongue of Canceron, meant 'Hello' and was used in greetings between people of the planet who still knew something of the old language.
"I have a favor to ask, but first you should let those two behemoths of yours not get so personal when it comes to searching people. I think Lucinda and Leila over there are going to need a cigarette after the effort they put into searching me," Scott said, knowing that he was only provoking the two men.
"You son of a bitch!" One of the men shouted and the two began to rush forward.
"That is enough; this is my nephew and is not to be harmed!" Lydia shouted, raising a hand to tell the men to halt.
"Scott, why are you provoking my guards?" she asked him.
Scott merely shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know, after the day I've had I'm feeling a bit puckish."
"Well I love you, but you may want to stop it and tell me what this favor is."
He filled her in on the conversation he had with President Adar, and that to get access to the S.L.A. he needed her to vouch for his smuggling operation with someone who had ties to that group.
"You know this won't be cheap," she said to him.
"I had a feeling that would be the case, but I don't have much say in the matter. What do you need from me?" he said wearily, a knot forming in his stomach at what might be asked of him.
"You don't need to concern yourself with that right now. For now just promise to visit more, and when I need my real favor from you I will let you know."
"Fair enough, Aunt Lydia; you let me know when you have the arrangements made. I assume you have my phone numbers, yes?"
She smiled at him, "Home and mobile. It was good to see you, Scott; don't take so long between visits."
He got up and gave her a kiss on the cheek before walking out the room, escorted by Lucinda and Leila. He knew those weren't their names, but he could care less.
They exited through a rear door into an alley, and for a moment Scott worried the two men might actually try something.
He had been through quite a bit today, and decided he would not be worried about it.
"See you later, boys!" He said as he walked away and turned the corner out of the alley.
XXX
Back in the alley the two goons took out their pistols and attached their silencers. Despite the warning from the boss, they wanted to teach that man a lesson in respect. Actually, they just wanted to kill him, but it sounded better that way.
They started up the alley when a young woman walked up to them with a map in her hand.
"Thank goodness I found the two of you!" she exclaimed, as she walked closer to them with the map in hand. "This is my first day in Amarna and I am already lost!
"That's too bad." One of the men said as he tried to walk around her.
"I need directions badly; please…it will only take a minute at the most!" She pleaded with them.
The other man put pulled back on his friend's shoulder, "Now, Harv, this young lady is lost and needs our help."
Harv turned and glared at his friend, "Damn it, Joe, he's getting away!"
Joe just smiled, "You'll have to excuse my friend, and we're late for a business meeting that just came up. What are you looking for?"
"Thank you so much! I'm trying to find the Erika Tavern," she said.
Joe began to say something, but he never got the words out. In a flurry of motion she threw the map up into the air and quickly delivered a front kick to his groin, causing him to crumble to the ground quickly.
Harv pulled his gun and had it aimed, but the woman took his arm and managed to twist his wrist in a way that caused him to drop it. This was followed by an open hand strike to his windpipe, sending him to the ground gasping for air.
Galit Malka surveyed her work and realized she had them both incapacitated. She pushed some errant strands of brown hair away from her face, and looked at them with a pair of intense emerald eyes.
"You two find your own flyboy, this one's mine," she said before leaving the alley to introduce her to Scott Tolan, the man she would accompany on the rescue mission.
Amarna, Canceron (Cragum Street):
After leaving the restaurant, Scott felt the need to get as far away from Amarna as possible. Not because he was in any danger from the Basileus, but because time spent with his father's side of the family always made him feel more than a little uneasy. At least it had ever since the night his brother Andrew died at Scythia Beach.
It was not long until he took the keys out of the pocket of his black khakis, and quickly got in the driver's seat of his pickup truck. It had been his father's, and over time Scott had fully restored the vintage full-size Vilea A-250 made by the Aster Motor Works.
He turned the radio on, and was in the process of changing stations when there was a knock on his window. He turned and saw a young woman whom he did not recognize looking at him.
She looked like she was maybe a recent college graduate. She had a set of deep emerald eyes that he could barely get a reading from. She was tall with a decidedly feminine build. Her deeply-tanned skin gave him the impression that she probably spent a lot of her time outdoors. Her hair was silky, straight, brown, and went down to her shoulders.
He rolled the window down and asked, "Is there anything I can help you with?"
She smiled at him, "Yes you can, Commander…may I join you? The subject is somewhat private."
He nodded and reached over to open the passenger side door, "Get in."
She got in, and once the door was closed they were off to Highway 49 and away from Amarna.
"Obviously you know me; now I want to know who you are and why you're here," Tolan said to her, a question and a command.
"Direct and to the point, I like that quality in a man." She said before adding, "My name is Galit Malka. I'm with the Ministry of Intelligence. I've been assigned to assist you in the recovery of the President's niece."
"That's fine, Miss Malka, but I want you to show me your credentials first," Tolan said, keeping his eyes on the road.
She drew a wallet out of her small purse and unfolded it, showing what Tolan realized was a legitimate set of credentials.
"Glad to hear it, Commander," she said as she put her credentials back into the purse.
"Let's get one thing straight. I'm not big on formality, so I will call you Galit and you can call me Scott. Fair enough?"
"Yes it is, Commander… I mean Scott."
"Now, why are you here now? Is this Adar's way of playing a practical joke on me? I'm no nugget."
"My partner, who we should go meet now that I've joined up with you, and I are going undercover with you on this trip," Galit said.
"Does your partner have a name and location?"
"His name is Keene Barron; he's waiting for us in Romanos."
"That's a good five hour drive, and it's not quite a straight shot."
"We took separate shuttles from Caprica, and neither one of us has been to Canceron before."
"It shows…," Scott muttered under his breath.
"Did you say something?"
"I said, 'Let's go!'" he said, trying to hide what he had actually said.
"Do you know how to get there from here?"
He shot her a 'You have to be kidding' look. "We follow this highway until it intersects with Highway 18, and that will lead us to the interstate and from there it's about four and half hours or so depending on traffic."
"I know this is awkward for you, Scott; but by the time this is over I'm sure you'll be quite fond of me."
"Oh, I adore you already," Scott said, though Galit could not tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
"I'm surprised you haven't asked me how or why my partner didn't accompany me to find you."
Scott smirked at her, "You work for the government, and even an intelligence agency can screw up."
"You have such little faith in the government you serve?"
Scott shrugged, "You may call me a cynic, and I say that I just have low expectations of the government doing a job properly."
"Well for your information he is busy with other prep work for this mission. There was no issue with me going solo to find you."
"Sure you might not have found yourself in some kind of trouble?"
"I'm a big girl – I know how to take care of myself." Galit said with a sense of pride.
"I have no doubt about that." Scott said, fishing a pair of sunglasses out of the center console to help combat the sun's glare off of the back window of the vehicle in front of them.
Seven Hours and Forty-Nine Minutes Later
Romanos, Canceron:
Keene Barron waited for them outside the Nysa Temple. The large temple was the largest place of worship in the city of Romanos, and was heralded as a fine example of Canceron architecture. When not used for services, it served as a major tourist attraction.
Barron was a tall man with a broad-shouldered build. He had neck-length black hair that went along with his black beard and mustache, giving him a decidedly worldly look. His attire was more professional looking than the tourists that were currently swarming around the temple, but he did not seem to stand out at all. His normally light skin had taken on a ruddy complexion from the time he had spent walking around in the sunlight.
Scott's truck pulled into a parking spot in the nearby lot, then he and Galit Malka both got out.
"That took longer than you said it would," she stated.
"You're right, Galit; I should have just waved my hands and magically moved those wrecked cars off of the road."
"No, smartass; you could have tried to turn around and find another way here."
"Fine. The next time I'll let you drive and you can show me how it's done."
"I knew you would see things my way," she said with a satisfied smile then looked around the front of the temple. "I think I see Keene at the foot of the steps; let's get moving!"
Scott motioned with his arm, "Ladies first."
"You could try coming up with something better than sarcasm," Galit said as she began walking.
"I'll try…honestly."
Ten minutes later they walked up to the man Galit had identified as Keene Barron.
"I see you didn't waste any time finding our flyboy," Keene said with a smile as he took her hand and gave it a squeeze before releasing it.
"He was easy to find. Keene Barron, meet Commander Scott Tolan."
The two men shook hands. "I'm glad to meet our ticket into the S.L.A.," Keene said.
"From what Galit told me, when she wasn't telling me how to drive, this whole operation depends on them buying the story we're going to tell them."
"The S.L.A. needs guns and we have more than enough; besides it's not like they'll have the chance to actually use them," Galit said.
Scott raised an eyebrow, "Ok, now what have you not told me?"
"Oh…that…," Galit said as she realized she had not told him the other part of the mission.
"Sorry, Commander; once we've rescued the hostages, the Valkyrie is to send an encrypted message to the Tenth Fleet. Its task is to jump to the location and destroy the S.L.A. base, therefore putting an end to them once and for all."
"Hostage rescue and terrorist annihilation, that is multi-tasking at its finest," Scott said with a trace of sarcasm.
"Reading your file, I'd have never thought you would be so sardonic," Keene said.
"I have had a long day so far; I promise once I'm able to get some rest I'll be much easier to get along with."
"Let's head to the spaceport and get to the Vanguard," Galit said, turning to walk away.
"Sounds good," Scott said, and began fishing in his pockets for his keys.
Galit stopped and turned around to face him. In her hand were his truck keys; she had taken them out without him realizing it. "I'm driving this time," she said with a wicked smile on her face.
"Is she always like this?" he asked Keene.
"She has her moments."
Scott nodded, "Indeed."
"We're burning daylight!" Galit called out to the two men.
Crethen Federal Prison (Virgon City, Virgon):
Marcellus Britt sat alone in his cell mentally playing out a pyramid game between the Caprica Buccaneers and the Picon Panthers. He had always had a knack for numbers that he discovered as he went through school. For fun he would play out imaginary pyramid games in his mind, completing every statistic imaginable.
He was good at math, and he was also a very adept thief, a fact he proved the night he broke into the Delphi Museum of the Colonies and stole the Golden Apple of Aphrodite, only eight years ago. He would have gotten away free and clear, but his fence turned him in to the authorities, in this case Ministry of Intelligence agents Galit Malka and Mitchell Cain, for a sizeable reward. Honor among thieves was a myth nine times out of ten.
He was broken from his reverie by a nightstick thudding against the door of his cell. He jumped out of his bed and wondered what could possibly be going on.
"We're coming in to get you, Britt; don't try anything funny." The harsh voice belonged to Bud Cantrell, one of the guards he had become familiar with during his time incarcerated.
"No worries," he said as he stood in the middle of the cell with his hands behind his head.
Cantrell motioned with his nightstick, "Warden wants to have a word with you in his office; come with me."
Bud was in his mid-sixties. Some would say he was ancient compared to Britt's twenty-six years of age.
The two men walked in silence, with Cantrell leading Britt towards the section of the prison where the warden's office was located.
Twenty-Three Minutes Later:
Philip Whitfield sat behind his desk looking at the paperwork that had been delivered not even an hour ago. Whether or not it would be used depended on the actions of Marcellus Britt.
He did not have to wait long as the door opened and Britt walked into the room. Britt looked out of place among the population of the prison. He was perhaps six feet tall, with wire-frame glasses that gave him a scholarly look. His medium brown skin was unadorned with any of the prison tattoos he was accustomed to seeing.
"Have a seat, Mr. Britt," he said, and Britt did as told. "I will get straight to the point. Today could possibly be your last day with us."
Britt's eyebrows arched with surprise, "How so, sir?"
"President Adar has authorized your release and pardon effective immediately. The only catch is that you are to be part of a team he has requested to be assembled for a hostage rescue mission."
"Who's the hostage?"
"I can't tell you unless you agree to go on this mission."
A chance to be released and pardoned, it was an offer that seemed too good to be true.
"I agree to whatever terms; now can you fill me in?"
"As a matter of fact I can. But first let me tell you about where you are going from here. You will be taken to the Royce Jeffery Spaceport, and from there you will be transported to the Battlestar Valkyrie. There you will learn the rest of the mission you were selected for."
This was still almost too incredible for his mind to comprehend. "Does the President really need a thief?"
Whitfield smiled, "He's pardoned you and released you from prison for a top-secret mission; I believe that should answer your question." A thought came to him, "By the way Mr. Britt, you breathe even a word of this to anyone and you will be charged with several counts of treason and confined to a place so awful it makes Fort Milledge look like a vacation getaway."
Britt nodded, "That is what I figured would happen to me. How will my pardon be explained?"
"Some little known technicality concerning your arrest, and the fact that you have been a model prisoner since you arrived at my fine facility."
Battlestar Vanguard (BS-92):
Vanguard was sitting there at Lampetia Shipyards, Scott thought, like a greyhound desperate to get off its leash and take off as quickly as it could into the far reaches of space. She would get to leave soon, to rendezvous with the Valkyrie. Galit Malka and Keene Barron had been assigned guest quarters, and retired for the night after having dinner with Scott.
The Cyrene-class battlestar was his first command, the culmination of years of hard work and training; not to mention his pride and joy. The Cyrene-class, which followed the Jupiter class of battlestars, were the one model that served as the bridge between the Valkyrie and Mercury classes. They were essentially 'Valkyries on steroids'. The class shared the hull of a Valkyrie, although it was lengthened, widened, given heavier armor, more cannons, more missile turrets, and became the first battlestars to carry the dual flight pods.
He now sat across the table from his friend and XO, Colonel Bridget Woods, knowing that the Vanguard would be in her hands for as long as it took him to complete this mission.
"After that, I kind of lost my temper," Scott said, finishing up the story of his encounter with Robert Reynolds earlier in the day.
"Okay, what exactly does that mean?" Bridget asked, a mix of shock and curiosity in her voice.
"Let's just say I made a reference to Robert's wife," Scott said innocently enough.
After that there was a long silence between the two. The only sounds in the room coming from the movement of the glass of ambrosia each had and the air filtration system, humming like a cat.
"Where are you?" Bridget asked, taking a drink from her glass of ambrosia, finally seeing the clouds part from his eyes.
"My mind is in more than one place right now," Scott said, looking absently at something only he could see.
"Fair enough," Bridget said. "What was your mind just on?"
"I was thinking of Emily. This miscarriage has been rough on both of us; it's hard to believe that I almost lost her."
"How has been since then?"
"The blood transfusion saved her life; the doctors want to keep her at the hospital just a while longer for observation. I know it's taken a toll on her both physically and mentally."
"I'm sure it has. How are you holding up?"
"I have my moments. I've lost loved ones, but this hits home in a way that is different. I know one day down the road Em and I will try again, but this one will stay with me."
He got quite again. Bridget decided to try changing the subject, "Have you read anything interesting in the news?"
"I was thinking about this article I read a few days ago. This doctor, I think his name is Ravashol, was talking the possibility of cloning humans."
"That would mean identical copies?" Bridget asked.
"I think if you were cloned the two of you would be identical, all the way down to that cute little mole you have on your…," Scott did not get to finish the statement.
"I get the point, Scott!" Bridget said, laughing in spite of herself.
He decided to try to change the subject, "Did you know, I can navigate my way across the Colonies; but I get lost every time I go to Caprica City?"
"You never told me that. My parents were both involved in the government. My dad was the Virgon representative on the Quorum of Twelve. Caprica City was where I essentially grew up."
Scott shook his head, "Sorry to hear that."
"I never understood why you have such a problem with politics."
Scott gave her one of his charming smiles, "Politics is like the news and sausage. People who enjoy them should not see how they're made. And speaking of… I was reading a news report. The Fleet has suspended construction of the last two Illustrious-class battlestars."
"Ah… Which were those?" she asked. Truth was she had not paid much attention to the news lately.
Scott pulled up the article on his computer and read to her the important information, "Construction of the Victorious and Kios were cancelled yesterday, with the former 85.4 percent complete and the latter 72.1 percent complete. The incomplete hulls will be stored at Scorpion Shipyard until a decision is reached on what is to be done with them."
"What do you think will happen to them?" Bridget asked.
Scott shrugged, "In a perfect world, they'll be completed one day and join the fleet. It wouldn't surprise me if they were either scrapped or used for target practice."
"Are you nervous?"
He wanted to tell her he was far from it, but he knew he could not lie to her. "I'm more than a little apprehensive; this is a situation I've never been in before. And in…" He looked at the clock on his desk, "Ten hours we will be rendezvousing with the Valkyrie, and I turn the keys to the Vanguard over to you. How long I remain there will depend on how long it takes the S.L.A. to decide they want to do business with my family."
She got up from her seat, walked to where he sat, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You are going to be fine, Scott; and I won't wreck your ride while you're away."
He gave her a warm smile, and reached up and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. When he felt her arms around him, he couldn't help but take in a deep breath. Scott thought of struggling, but found his arms gripping her frame close to him.
"Promise?"
"I promise, Scott. I'll keep eye out for any trouble. I've got your back."
He held her for a second more before releasing her, "Goodnight, Bridget; thank you."
"Goodnight, Scott," she said, flashing a smile as she turned to leave the room and get some rack time in her own bed. In less than half a day she was going to be in charge of the Vanguard.