Author's Note:

Long ago, when Battlestar Galactica's future still looked bright, Glen Larson had a dream. He had ideas for a second season, some of which, in hindsight, were a bit haphazard, but some of which had merit in either content or direction. None of these ideas - the good, the bad, or the ugly - ever made it off of the drawing board before the show was unceremoniously canned. However, they were preserved in documentation that eventually made it into the hands of fans who, with permission, shared the gist of them with the world (as a quick Google search will reveal).

Yahrens later - through the work of countless creative minds - cargo holds of novelizations, comics, and fan fiction have combined to give us new insight on the plot and characters of BSG that Glen Larson, as one man, could not have had in 1979. Having benefited from the insights of others, I would like to pay homage to the man behind the universe by using his ideas as a starting point for a new Season 2 in fan fiction. The plots of each episode will bear some resemblance to their inspirational counterparts, but with differences and enhancements to better serve the story I'd like to tell.

Since I am receiving no profit from these stories and since Larson's basic ideas are in the public domain, it's clear I claim to own nothing of the original ideas or the BSG universe. I hope my casual saunter into this realm shows nothing but respect for the man who brought one of the most enduring (and endearing) sci-fi shows to our homes and our hearts. RIP, Mr. Larson.

Season 2, Episode 1

Scene 1

Rigel had asked to be put on Bridge duty during the ceremony. She knew others would need to attend more than she did. More importantly, they would want to attend more than she did.

Her memories of the Destruction of the Colonies were full of numbness to emotion. She had performed her duties with focus and determination, continually pushing back her grief, knowing if she gave into it once, it would utterly sweep her away. Later, she had shed tears over individual deaths as they came, and even over the bone-weariness of spending sectons fleeing through space with nowhere to stop, nowhere to call home. But she never dared to grieve for their former home. All the tears in the galaxy couldn't bring closure to that gaping injustice. For her own sanity, she refused those thoughts when she could... and that included choosing Bridge duty over attending the anniversary memorial ceremony. Maybe next yahren she would go. One yahren was still too soon.

She sat atop the command platform in the Bridge officer's chair, switching between scanner feeds. Omega had given her a refresher on her duties the day before. At the moment, the Fleet was quiet as everyone who wasn't attending the event in the ceremonial hall was watching it on the IFB. One of the officers below her was playing the live feed at his station. Adama's voice rang from the speakers, the limitations of radio and audio tech barely dampening its rich tones.

"... divested of our homes, our families, and our very lives, as we knew them..."

She didn't have to be there to know that people were weeping all throughout the ceremonial hall. All throughout the Fleet. So many lives, changed forever in one day. What would they have been if they continued uninterrupted? What would Rigel have been? An ordinary com officer who married a handsome man and gave birth to children of her very own? What if the man she was meant to love had already been killed by the Cylons? Would she remain alone forever, with only a job to keep her company?

"... the brave men and women who have served us diligently throughout the Fleet, some in the cockpit of a Viper, some sitting at a control station, some working day in and day out to keep the basic operations of the Fleet functioning - all of you have played a vital part in our survival..."

Rigel sighed. At least she knew she was making a difference. Much of her job was helping the Viper pilots do their own job safely and effectively. She gave them the information and direction they needed to stay alive; in turn, they kept her and the rest of the Fleet alive. Adama was right; all of them worked together to survive. All of them were important.

She stopped listening to the broadcast and turned her attention to the scanners in front of her. Time for the routine sensor sweep. Two buttons to press - click, click - and the close-range scan of alpha quadrant showed only the expected ships of the Fleet, all traveling at the recommended distance from the Galactica. Click, click... beta quadrant, also normal. Click, click... click, click... gamma and delta equally uneventful.

Now it was time for the long-range scan. This one took a few more microns to fully develop, for obvious reasons. Rigel pressed a few more buttons, and long-range alpha began populating the scanner. Nothing of interest besides the dwarf star ahead on port side, which was still well out of the Fleet's intended path. A few more microns, and beta quadrant appeared with even less to offer.

When gamma first began to load, she noticed the blip at the edge of the screen. Thinking it might be a glitch, she watched as the full sensor image took shape. The blip was still there, accompanied by two more just like it. Rigel's heart skipped a beat. She leaned forward, furiously typing commands to zoom, isolate, and identify the objects. The velocity at which they were traveling had already made it all but certain by the time the computer finished bringing up the analysis and corresponding warbook information. Cylon fighters.

Rigel's stomach twisted. She took a deep breath and forced the words out of her mouth: "Cylons on our tail!Battle stations!"

The Bridge came to life as the officers on duty sprang into action.

Rigel flipped a switch, instantly drowning everything in red light. The alert was ship-wide; everyone on the Galactica would know, and soon, everyone else.

She picked up the Stentofon receiver the moment it beeped.

"Bridge, report," Colonel Tigh barked.

"Three Cylon fighters spotted in gamma quadrant, sir," she replied, the words flowing smoothly despite the pounding of her heart.

"Felgercarb," Tigh muttered. Then, to her, "We'll be right up."

Rigel nodded, even though Tigh couldn't see it. She hung up and returned to staring at the three Cylon Raiders on the scanner. But now, they were closer, and more Raiders were popping up behind them. Colonel Tigh reached the platform moments after the final threat appeared.

"There's an entire cohort of Raiders," Rigel told him, "and a basestar directly behind."

Tigh peered at the scanner. "Their timing couldn't be better - catching us in the middle of the anniversary ceremony. The Commander's working crowd control, but he'll be up as soon as everyone gets out of that hall to where they need to be. Warriors were dismissed first to scramble to the Vipers. When Omega gets here, I want you back at your station."

She had barely finished saying, "Yes, sir," when Omega burst onto the Bridge and sprinted up to the platform. Rigel gladly gave up her seat and took her own back from the officer who was subbing for her. Headset on. Coms active.

Warriors quickly took possession of their Vipers. She checked in with each one, sending them out in groups.

"Transferring launch control to Viper fighters. Launch when ready."

Rigel allowed a few microns for her own thoughts while waiting for more pilots to assemble. Another day for the Cylons to try to wipe out the human race. Unlike what Colonel Tigh said, this was not the best time for an attack. They were surprised, but not unprepared. Never again would there be a repeat of Caprica. The day they grew lax was the day they died - and that certainly would not be today.