"What Heroes Are Made Of" takes place after (Home, Part 2). Any errors are mine, timeline etc and a little bit of AU for some things. Also, I do not own any of the characters from Battlestar Galactica – but then you knew that.

I appreciate any feedback.

The Cylons were created by Man
They evolved
They rebelled
There are many copies
And they have a plan

47,853 survivors
Are in search of a home
Called Earth

A contact flickers into existence on the drydas screen for less than a second and then vanishes. Lt. Gaeta snaps his head toward the screen but its already gone.

"What was that?" Tigh snaps as he turns toward him.

Gaeta's hands fly across the console, checking diagnostics and trying to extend the range just a little. "Unknown, sir."

"It's not fracking unknown. I just heard a contact."

"Sir." Dualla interrupts.

Tigh ignores her for a moment. "Set Alert 1 in the Fleet and get the old man down here."

"Sir," Dualla pushes it again. "You've got to hear this." She flips the comm. from her earpiece to the overhead speaker.

"…Now, I know we weren't supposed to 'borrow' that last crate of ambrosia. But three years in space is a long time to keep the men dry. I mean, Lords above, the whole Fleet?" The man's rough voice is spun with humor, he thinks this is incredibly funny as the crew of Galatica listens in dumbstruck amazement.

Tigh snatches up the handheld. "Who the hell is this?"

There is a long pause and when the voice comes back on it has lost all of its humor. "This is Captain Harstock of the Exploration Vessel Journey. Colonial transponder to follow."

Dualla nods to Tigh as the transponder is verified. Behind them both, Adama steps into the CIC, his face lined with worry.

"Transponder received." Tigh tells him. "It's real."

"What is it?"

"An E.V. calling herself the Journey."

Adama snatches the handset away from Tigh. "Journey, this is Commander Adama of the Battlestar Galactica. How long have you been on mission?"

A crackle of static, then Harstock's answer. "Galactica, we are eight months out of Sagittaron on a three year mission. We're conducting geological surveys. Commander, what the frack is going on?"

The Quorum meeting with the President isn't going the way that Tom Zarek would have liked. His sway over her is entirely gone with her new backing from Commander Adama. The brief moment of power was lost entirely too quickly. Now he's bound again by the rules of the Quorum and forced to listen to the arguing when a solid plan of action would be so much more effective.

He glances up as Billy rushes in. The aide's hands have a piece of paper in them that looks like it came straight off the wireless.

"What's wrong, Billy?" Laura Roslyn had followed his eyes and saw Billy as well.

"Madam President. Members of the Quorum." It takes him a moment to gather himself. "A new ship. A ship from the colonies. We've found more survivors."

Silence falls and Tom finds himself watching the joy transfuse the faces around him. When civilization is confined to a 5-figure number, every single loss or gain suddenly takes on enormous significance.

The President's voice is quiet, almost reverent. "None of the colonies were using exploration vessels. Those are older models, phased out five years ago. I was at their decommissioning." No one mentions how she'd also been at the Battlestar's, no one needs to.

But Tom has the answer. "Madam President, none of the wealthier colonies were using them, but Sagittaron still was. Our planet was always poorer than the others. E.V.s were all they could afford."

Billy nods. "That is how she's identifying herself. They've been out here for eight months. They missed everything. They don't even know that the Colonies are gone."

"How many?"

He pauses, a little confused as to whether she means the ship or something else.

"How many people?" Laura clarifies.

Billy nods, this he can answer. "A crew of sixty. Commander Adama requests your presence to meet them."

"President Roslyn," Tom breaks in. He's unwilling to lose all of his influence and every new Sagittaron represents another vote that can be swayed. "As Sagittaron's representative…"

"Yes, of course." She smiles as she stands and approaches the board. Her hand does not tremble as she wipes the slate clean and inscribes a new number upon it.

47,913

The conference room is silent with shock. Captain Harstock has brought two members of his crew with him but none of them were prepared for what Adama has just told them. Harstock, a man in his late 40's with fiery red hair and ruddy cheeks looks like he's on the verge of having a heart attack. Disbelief and other conflicting emotions race across his face, but its worse because he can tell that this is no joke. They haven't met a court martial, but the last members of humanity. It's a hard blow to take.

Xanthes, Harstock's second-in-command, has turned green underneath skin so black that it seems impossible to take any color. A tall regal looking man, he seems to have no outward response except for the color change, but inwardly, he is close to falling on the floor. A wife and three children – gone.

The last crew member is one of the youngest. Nya Reece has her black hair secured in a queue but her grey eyes are full of horror. She is the first watch pilot on Journey and can't believe what she's hearing as Adama continues to tell them about the discovery of human-looking Cylons and the betrayals they've lived through.

Her eyes turn from him to the others within the room. Tigh who looks uncomfortable to be present at such a blatant display of grief. Roslyn who is maintaining silence in the face of Adama's description of life in the new Fleet. And Tom Zarek, whom they all recognized from the moment he met them on the loading dock.

Its almost too much. But then, her attention snaps back to Adama.

"The Cylons we know of," he is saying. "have gone by the names Sharon Valerii, Aaron Doral, and Leoben Conoy."

"What?" The word bursts out before Nya can stop it. Then the sickness in the pit of her stomach flies upward and she runs from the room. A blind panic. Running. Walls. The crew dart from her path as she slams through the door of the head and into a bathroom stall.

She vomits until there is nothing left to come up. And then dry heaves for another minute.

"Ms. Reece?" The voice is quietly concerned.

Nya tries to regain her composure, but there is a thin line between desperate fear and sanity and she's on the edge. "I – I need a moment."

"Are you okay?"

"No. He's not serious. The Commander, he can't be serious." She pushes the door open and staggers to the sink. The cold water doesn't make her feel any better but it stops the sickening wave of vertigo that threatens to drown her. "You can't be fracking serious?"

"It's a lot to take in."

"Oh gods," she lunges back into the stall as her stomach revolts again. When its over she slumps to the floor as Tom Zarek looks down at her. "It happened five and a half months ago?"

"Yes."

She's speaking so softly he can't tell if she's speaking to herself or to him. "We thought it was space sickness. It happens on long voyages. But it…it couldn't be. I've known him for over two years. It couldn't be…"

"Ms. Reece. Nya." He says more urgently as he squats next to her slumped form. "What are you talking about?"

"Five and a half months ago," there is no emotion in the words. "Leo tried to open an unsecured airlock."

A chill runs down Zarek's spine. "What did you say his name was?"

"I talked him down. It can't be. It has to be a coincidence. Just space sickness. It happens. I….I…"

Tom shakes her hard. "What was his name!"

"Leoben. Leoben Conoy."