StrikeStar Andrasta (SSG-104)

Commander Pendergast read over the rather… colorful report of Admiral Nagala's fighting retreat, her nose crinkling up in a display somewhere between disgust at the attack and bemusement at the Admiral's… unorthodox style. She'd had the pleasure of serving with him once, and the Admiral's vaunted stubbornness did not disappoint. Now it was looking like it saved his life.

More than that, it bought the fleet a valuable shred of information, and stripped the Cylons of what she hoped was their best weapon. "TAO, you read this, right?"

"Sir," Fawkes nodded, her smokey voice strained and tight.

"A backdoor in the CNP,is that even-" Pendergast sighed, setting the printout back on the Communication console, "-Remotely possible?"

"I would say no," Fawkes shook her head, her hair a messy mass of friz that almost glowed in the CIC spotlighting, "But it jives with the reports we're getting. One quick transmission… then everything's out like someone just flipped a switch."

Pendergast nodded, thinking for a minute how she should approach this. Andrasta depended on her networking to stay combat-effective. "Assume it's localized to the FCS, how long to cut the networks and do a clean reinstall."

"Everything?" asked Fawkes, her eyes going hazy as she mentally retreated into some darkened corner of her brain where records of ungodly precision were kept.

"Don't worry about Flight control. If there's malware hiding in the code it'll be in the backup drives too."

Fawke nodded, her brain almost visibly ticking over as she recalculated. "Eight hours? Maybe seven if we push it."

"Don't let me keep you," said Pendergast, "XO, I want dradis back up as soon as she cuts the net. And stand down to RADCON-tight, we might be lame, but I don't want us blind."

"Aye, sir."

"And stand down to Condition 2," Pendergast rubbed at her temples. It was hard to believe this all started barely over an hour ago. Damn she was tired… her crew was tired, stressed, and wound tighter than anyone manning a gun should be. And she was not going down as the Commander who lost her boat when some twitchy NCO flipped a switch he shouldn't have.

"Should we deploy a CAP?" asked Colonel Jackson, one overgrown bush of an eyebrow creeping up on his forehead as he glanced over, end of the CIC phone tapping against his jaw.

"No, our birds are running the same CNP as Andrasta," said Pendergast, "We send them-" She stopped short. It was one thing to voice her concerned about her precious aviation assets turning into flying death-traps to her XO. It was entirely another to do so while her entire CIC was listening. "XO, you have the deck, I have to talk to the CAG."

Captain Karen "Kit" Logan paced back and forth in the frustratingly cramped confines ofAndrasta's aviation briefing room. Even with her tiny five-foot-two frame, the confinement was maddening. Andrasta was a cruiser first and a carrier… eleventy-third. It wasn't that the ship was poorly laid out… she was just so damn tiny! And with half a dozen Raptors, their crews, and their underwing stowage-farms, there was barely any room left for her four vipers!

And spending the past hour with nothing to do beyond stare at the clock and scowl wasn't doing anything to ease her temper.

"CAG," the Commander was standing in the rear hatch, her rumpled-looking figure towering over the diminutive pilot. She hadn't even heard her come in she was so wired.

"Sir," Kit snapped to attention, holding her head as high as she could manage.

"Where's your pilots?" asked Pendergast, glancing around the deserted briefing room.

"Raptor ECOs got drafted by your TAO," said Kit, her hands hanging loosely around her belt, "No point in getting a 'hog in the air without an ECO, so I gave the drivers some rack time."

"Vipers?"

"Same, if they're punching though a Raptor's anti-intrusion-"

"They're not," said Pendergast, "there's a backdoor in the CNP."

Kit gave her a sideways look, her olive skin going a hair redder. "Frak me."

"What's the situation with our birds?" Pendergast rested her hands on her hips, giving the wound-up CAG a productive direction to vent her pent-up energy.

"Raptor's'll be fine," said Kit, letting out a hissing breath as she thought, "The command-slaving-rig was a bodge-job at best. Shouldn't be hard to remove." After all the bitching from her hog drivers about ancient airframes getting yet another unwanted extension while HQ dragged their feet about fielding a replacement, this has to frakking happen.

"Time?"

"Maybe an hour each?" said Kit, "The CNP system's in a whole 'nother avionics bay, we can just pull it and leave the wires dangling if you want it done faster."

"No, those birds are my eyes… let's do it right." Pendergast glanced at the status board on the side wall. "And spot a pair as soon as you're done. Best pilots you got, I want eyes up.

Kit nodded, already scanning though her list of pilots. Spots and Dozer were probably her best, but they'd spent six hours in the air before the shit hit the fan. They earned their rack time.

"What about our Vipers?"

"Vipers? Vipers are frakked," Kit shook her head. "Mark Sevens were build around integrated computers. Quarantining the CNP means no stability-assist. No way nuggets can handle it. Hell, I'm not even sure I can handle it."

"Frak," Pendergast scowled. Kit could tell she wasn't surprised at the answer, but she had probably been hoping her comparatively limited knowledge of the newer Vipers had betrayed her.

"Sorry, sir, if we launch we're not going to hit anything. And if we try to land…" Kit pursed her lips, her cheeks inflating in resignation, "You've seen how some of these guys land with assist."

Pendergast nodded, "Understood. Keep working the problem, though."

"Yes, sir." Kit paused for a second, waiting for her CO to offer another order. When none came, she added, "Sir…I heard Admiral Nagala's taken over the fleet. We have any new orders?"

"Not as such," said Pendergast, pulling idly at the buttons of her uniform, "Can't exactly go singling out ships, but we've got new standing orders to peruse the fight in whatever manner we see fit."

"Sir… that doesn't really sound like-"

"His exact words were, 'find something and kill it'."

"Ah." Kit nodded, a weary smile spreading across her face. That sounded like the Admiral she knew.

A/N: Well, that took much longer than I thought it would. First I got wrapped up in another fic I just couldn't put down. (Kan-Colle-Quest over on SpaceBattles) then I got roped into running a game of Starwars D6 for a bunch of friends... anyway, enough with the excuses, read! Enjoy! That's an order, nugget.