Oh, look, an update! I wanted to have this be a lot longer. I actually have half of the next chapter already written, but I'm too busy with midterms to finish it this week, so I wanted to split it into two chapters and post what I had. Hopefully this'll be cleaner than previous updates. As always, please feel free to point out contradictions with canon or any criticisms/comments.

Holloway had made plenty of visits to the pilot's briefing room in the past. They were almost always formal appearances, welcoming new squadrons aboard or fulfilling some official duty. He'd regretted never having the time to walk around his own ship of his own volition. It always felt like he was trapped in either CIC or his quarters, filling out paperwork. Now, arms crossed, watching the horrifying footage from Kara's gun camera, Holloway found himself wishing paperwork was still the number one thing he dreaded.

The alien looking fighters operated like nothing he'd ever imagined. Their weapons were astonishingly accurate, and almost guaranteed to be lethal when they connected. they didn't seem to have any visible maneuvering thrusters, appearing to magically alter its course without any thrust. Holloway nodded in approval when Kara brought one of the monsters down. Off in the distance, he could just make out the massive warships that had gutted Triton mere hours ago. Aside from the occasional expletive, he watched in silence alongside Kara Thrace and a handful of other pilots. Right as the video concluded, Kara spoke up.

"They're not Cylons." She said simply. "I don't know what the frak they are, or where they came from, but they aren't Cylons."

"Well..." Holloway drug out the singular word, his mind still trying to decide how to process the revelation. "I'll be damned."

"When I was younger, my boyfriend at the time would always take me to watch those stupid alien flicks." Kara said with admonishment. 'Invaders from Beyond the Red Line,' ever seen it? It was the biggest pile of crap I've ever seen on a screen." The pilot's voice carried a hint of a laugh.

"I saw it three times, with some friends from the academy. We had a good laugh at the battle scenes. Even went back to see the sequel, where Humanity and the Cylons had to team up to stop the aliens." The commander took a seat in one of the front row chairs. He finally had an explanation for how their fleet had been cut through so easily back at the planet. At the same time, it raised countless more. Who, and what, were they? What were they hoping to get out of attacking the Colonies? And most importantly... was it even possible to stop them?

"Have we heard anything on the wireless, commander?" Kara asked, trying to keep the concern out of her voice. She'd seen first hand how formidable their new enemy was. "How the rest of the fleet is holding up?"

Holloway slowly shook his head. "A lot of confusion out there. Though, as far as we can tell, none of the other colonies have been hit." He thought it best to omit the fact their forces were in the middle of a tactical retreat. They'd yet to score a single successful engagement against the invaders.

"That's good." Her worries didn't sound the least bit allayed. "What do we do now?"

"We're not in any shape to fight." The commander replied, resting his arms on the seat. He'd always wished they'd put a damn chair in CIC. "We'll be spending the next two days crawling to Aerilon for repairs"

"I mean us. The Colonies. Their warships barely closed into visual range. If we keep fighting them like they're Cylons, we'll be cut down every time. We need to-" Kara was cut off by the intercom demanding Holloway's attention. A feminine voice was requesting he call CIC.

"Pardon me." Holloway said as he stood up and grabbed the phone to the right of the briefing room's viewing monitor. He remembered watching his first briefings on projector screens, like they used in movie theaters. That was way back when he first joined the Fleet. Now they had these fancy displays built right into the walls. CAG's could manipulate them in real time to show any piece of data they desired.

"Holloway." He said into the receiver as if it were any other day. It was Sager's voice on the other end, sounding far more optimistic than earlier.

"Dradis picked up a new contact a few minutes after we got it working." The relief in his voice was palpable. "It's squawking Colonial IFF. Our database ID's it as the Battlestar Galactica."

"The Galactica?" Holloway replied, noticeably surprised. As pleased as he was they encountered another Colonial ship, he wondered how such an old battlestar could possibly be in any better shape than them. He noticed Kara's eyes light up the moment he uttered the ship's name. "Isn't that ship due for decommissioning in a few months? Is it even still combat rated?"

"Our comm array must have been damaged in the attack. We can't get a clear channel to them just yet, but we're steaming towards them now. They've adjusted their own course towards us, so they know we're here."

"Good, good. Maybe we'll get a solid line once we close the distance. I'm headed down there now. Holloway out." He hadn't even clicked the receiver into the wall when Kara bursted out.

"If Adama's on that ship, you're better off with him and Galactica then a whole BSG." Her voice hadn't raised, but her words came out far more aggressively. The sudden shift caught Holloway off guard.

"Know someone on board?" He asked. Kara's sudden change in attitude didn't come as much of a surprise, given the stories he'd heard back in CIC, and the complaints from a very flustered CAG.

"Adama. Commander Adama. Veteran of the Cylon war?" Her hands were clasped above her hips, eyes almost glaring at her superior officer.

Holloway wracked his memory for a moment, trying to recall the familiar name. "Adama... Adama! William Adama. There was an article about him in the Tauron Chronicle. Back when they announced Galactica was to become a museum after her retirement, the story got a lot of hype. He seemed like an admirable man."

"He is." Kara said adamantly. "And he'll knock your lights out of you if he hears you talked crap about his ship."

To Kara's surprise, Holloway responded with a hint of a smile. "I'll keep that in mind." He said in an almost amused voice. Without giving his pilot a chance to speak again, Holloway turned away, and started making his way back to the heart of his ship. In the back of his mind, he still couldn't rid himself of the images of those nightmarish blue ships he'd seen dance across the room minutes ago.

"I'd think twice about simply accepting Colonial IFF anymore." Tigh remarked derisively in Lieutenant Gaeta's direction. Galactica had detected the capital-sized Dradis return at the edge of their visible range less than ten minutes ago. Adama had immediately ordered a change of course to intercept them, and the friendly vessel had also adjusted course to meet them in the middle. The only hitch was the friendly contact had remained silent. "They still aren't responding to hails?"

"Still no response, sir." Came a tan-skinned Sagittaran woman. Petty Officer Dualla pressed a hand to her headset, continuing her attempts to make contact with the supposed Colonial ship.

"I've got a positive ID match in our records." Felix Gaeta proudly reported. "Their transponder is a match for the Battlestar Triton, under the command of Jacob Holloway. She was stationed in orbit around Canceron during the initial attack."

William Adama could practically feel his heart skip a beat. "Triton?" The familiar name felt like the answer to a prayer. He noticed Tigh's head snap around to face him. "Way out here? How?"

"It could be a trick." Saul warned suspiciously. "Even if it saw battle, communication is damn near impossible to knock out on a battlestar."

"Adjust course to bring us parallel with contact." Adama ordered. If it was a trap, he reasoned, best not run head first into it. "Dualla, demand they transmit identification codes immediately. Standby to broadcast our own."

"Galactica to Triton, please transmit identification codes immediately. Repeat, if you are receiving, please-" Dualla paused mid sentence, and a look of elation spread across her face. "Sir, I've got a line with Triton. They're transmitting codes now."

"I have them." Gaeta reported, comparing the data now displaying on his monitor with a sheet of paper nested on his overcrowded console. "Identification is a match. It's Triton,sir."

"I was starting to get a little nervous." Tigh said with a sigh of relief. "Still doesn't explain what their doing in the middle of nowhere two million clicks from Canceron, without their fleet."

"Request direct line with Triton actual. And patch me through." Adama said as he reached for his receiver. The grizzled commander fought to keep his emotions in check. Whatever happened to Triton, it obviously involved combat. Was Kara alright? Was she even still alive? Knowing her, she'd be on the first wave of vipers out the launch lubes. He desperately needed to know, but couldn't bring himself to ask. This wasn't the time.

"Triton, Galactica actual is requesting Triton actual." Dualla droned into the headset. "Line is open." she said a brief moment later.

"This is Triton actual." Came a deep voice crackling from the receiver. "You have no idea how welcome a sight you are, Adama. Apologies it took us so long to get in contact, we're communicating via short range wireless. We weren't aware how badly our comm system was damaged."

"Comm array's buried pretty deep in a battlestar." Adama's heart felt as if it had just dropped two decks. "You must have been hit pretty hard if they managed to knock it out."

"Pretty hard is an understatement. Our battlegroup was the first line of defense over Canceron. Those things jumped in by the dozen and massacred our fleet. Their ships use some sort of jamming, our computers couldn't get a clear lock." Even over the wireless, Adama could sense the tension emanating from Holloway. He reasoned that, much like many other CO's across the fleet, this must have been the commander's first taste of actual combat.

"That meshes with the report's we've been getting." Adama confirmed stoically. "The whole combat zone's a clusterfrak. Are there any other survivors from your battlegroup?"

"We don't know." Holloway's voice turned grim. "The electromagnetic interference their ships gave off screwed with our nav computer. We weren't able to calculate a jump to the same area of space. I suspect other ships made it out, but we have no way of knowing where they are or what their status is."

"I would assume you would have jumped to safety by now if you could have." Galactica's commander stated more than asked.

"You'd assume correct. We've been patching up what we can, but if we tried jumping again there's a very good chance the ship will tear itself apart."

The closest drydock that wasn't floating in a million pieces would be around Aerilion, Adama figured. "Nearest safe harbors a good few days away by sublight. Chances are you'll be intercepted long before you get to safety."

"It's not as if we have much say in the matter." Said Holloway. "The fleet's going to have its hands too full to send an escort."

"That long at sub-light, in the middle of a war zone?" Tigh said incredulously. "They'll never make it in one piece."

"Commander Holloway," Adama began. "We have enough room on Galactica to hold the entirety of your crew. We could have raptors start ferrying your people back and forth, leaving Triton with a select few personnel." Transferring so many hundreds of people on something as small as a raptor would take time, but with both ships working in tandem to make it happen, the commander estimated it would take only ninety minutes to save eight hundred lives. And while he promised itself it wouldn't cloud his judgment, one life in particular made this plan of action very attractive.

After a few moments of listening to Holloway consult with his men on the other end, his voice cracked through the wireless again. "That's extraordinarily generous, commander. We'll start shoveling crewmen into our raptors immediately."

"And we'll have our birds ready to take their place the moment the take off." Adama replied. "In the mean time, I think a close formation would be best to cut down on flight time. We're still bound for Semavatevi Point, if you'd be willing to accompany us for an hour or so."

"We can swing that. Be aware our ship will have a hard time keeping pace." Holloway's voice had perked up considerably. Given his role as the CO, he would have to stay withTriton as part of its skeleton crew. Adama knew this meant his relief had to come from ensuring the safety of his people, a trait he could admire in a man. "One last thing, Commander, if I may... You fought in the first Cylon war. You've tangled with them before. These things... You must have seen them over the wireless..."

"We're not fighting Cylons." Adama said with a tone of finality, leaving no room to doubt his certainty. "Which means I'm just as in the dark as you are."

"We were starting to suspect the same thing." Holloway replied after a moment of silence. "I have to coordinate the evacuation. My people will be in contact with yours."

"You did good out there, Holloway." Adama stated. "Take it from a vet. Adama out." With those words, he clapped the device back into it's cradle, and turned to Dualla. "Get me a manifest of Triton's crew. I want an overview of Triton's condition transmitted to us, Lets get up to speed on how badly she's beat. I also want every corridor on decks E and G cleared out and set up for our guests, we're going to need the room. Tell Doctor Coddle prep the medical bay for inbounds."

"Right away, sir." Dualla said, already preparing to put herself in touch with the DC teams onboard Triton.

"Would you like a copy of that crew manifest, sir?" Colonel Tigh questioned. It didn't take a great leap of logic for Adama to understand what his friend was hinting at.

"No. That won't be necessary." Adama said dismissively. He leaned in close to the balding man, and gestured towards CIC. "They don't get to ask for a crew manifest. If I give myself that unique privilege, what does it say to them?" The commander turned away to discuss something with Gaeta, shutting down any further discussion of the topic with Saul.

Had Adama been more focused on his friend, he would have seen the Colonel mutter something under his breath as he shook his head. Tigh had always respected Adama's resolve, but sometimes, his friend needed to recognize when it was working against him. Determined to solve the old man's mystery for him, Tigh marched over up to the communications panel Dualla was seated by. He put a hand on her shoulder, and lowered his head to her level.

"I need a favor." The colonel said in a hushed voice.

Dualla gasped while a hand clutched her heart. Evidently, he'd taken her off guard. "Yes... sir?" The communication's officer asked with confusion obvious in her expression.

"I need you to get me a pilot manifest from Triton, as up to date as they have." He replied. "And I want you to go directly to their CAG. Not Holloway, and not a word to the commander." Dualla's eyes shifted around the room as Tigh explained her mission. He wondered what was going through the poor woman's mind. "This is low priority, alright? So get everything else the old man wants squared away before you touch this. When you have it, report directly to me."

"Um..." Dualla looked if she felt like she was missing something rather important. Tigh could barely overhear a very confused man speaking through her headset. "Alright... I can do that. But why the secrecy... sir?"

Tigh shot a glance at Adama, who was in the middle of being given a more complete report of Triton's status by Gaeta. Looking back at the worried expression on Dualla's face, Saul figured he owed the woman at least some kind of explanation.

"There's a pilot on that ship who holds a very special place in the commander's heart." Tigh explained. "He's had some family problems in the past, we'll leave it at that. So having this woman who holds no reservations about their bond is a godsend to the man. And if she was on the front lines when all this broke out... He doesn't know what's happened to her. And it's tearing him up inside."

Dualla listened patiently to the colonel's explanation, nodding softly in understanding when he finished. "I'll get it done, sir." The petty officer turned back to her station, allowing herself to be consumed with her work.

Tigh smiled and patted the woman on her shoulder as he thanked her. Anastasia was alright in his book.

Karl Agathon woke up feeling as if he'd had an extra dozen or so drinks the night before. The entire room felt like it was spinning, and his head throbbed madly. He reached to grab it, but his limbs refused to move. He tried opening his eyes, but there was a blinding light forcing them shut. Slowly coming to his senses, he tried again to move his arms. He was bound to something. Bit by bit, Helo felt his memory coming back to him. The raptor, the patrol, the trap... The screams over the wireless as Eamon melted away in seconds. They'd been blasted out of the sky. Sharon's quick thinking had saved them. Sharon. Where's Sharon. He cried out for her. No response. No echo, either. The room he was in couldn't be that big. Agathon remembered something drawing him into the ship. The unnatural feeling of having his body pulled by nothing. His mind finally settled on the only reasonable conclusion.

I've been captured. He thought to himself. I've been captured by... His thoughts were interrupted by the noise of something mechanical sliding, followed by the sound of footsteps. But they weren't the obvious clanking he would have expected from robotic centurions. It sounded like any average person stepping on hard floor.

Helo struggled to open his eyes, but wasn't greeted by a metal monster. There was no red eye shifting side to side like he'd had drilled into his head a thousand times. Instead, he could barely make out the silhouette of a tall figure standing against the lights. He didn't seem all that much wider than he did, and Helo struggled make out the outline of what appeared to be fabric hanging from the figure's arms. It was wearing some type of curved helmet that wrapped around its head. From his angle, his captor was shrouded in darkness, making it impossible to get a clear view. He starred at the figure, despite any pain the lights were bringing to his eyes, incapable of understanding. His captor obviously wasn't Cylon. And if he wasn't Cylon...

"Who are you?" The figure asked in a deep, distinctly male voice. The question hit Agathon like a blow to the head. It was speaking perfect Caprican. It sounded human. How in the worlds? His mind struggled to come up with a response, when a jolt of sharp pain shot through his arms and legs. His entire body convulsed uncontrollably. Moments later, the electric sensation subsided. He gasped for air.

Agathon's mind pulled a very particular set of training to the forefront of his memory. SERE. Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape. The Fleet drilled it into every crewman to some extent. How to act in the event of capture. It emphasized the importance of the first few moments. If you couldn't make a break for it in the initial minutes, your chance of escape at all went down drastically. Unfortunately, in space he couldn't even humor the possibility of escape. He'd already failed the first two letters by being captured, and the last was out of the question. That only left him resistance. On the other hand, they taught that if you wanted to survive, you had to play ball to some limited extent. The figure repeated his question.

"Karl Agathon." He coughed out. "Lieutenant. Serial number PK 789-" He felt the familiar jolt of pain blast through his body, more intense than last time. It took longer for the pain to subside. His teeth seemed to tingle.

"Who are your people." His tone grew harsher. Are you a mining colony? Research outpost? What is the purpose of your presence in this system?"

"Our purpose? Helo replied, turning the question over in his head. "This is our home."

Ignoring Helo's last statement, the figure switched topics. "This system lacks hyperspace beacons. Did you destroy them in an attempt to hide your presence?"

Each question seemed to make less sense than the last. If his captor really was an entirely different species, their method of questioning might be totally alien to him. Drops of sweat dripped off his brow. "I don't understand what you're asking." He said hopelessly.

Clenching his teeth didn't work anymore. He cried out. Helo lost his sense of time as the pain left no nerve untouched. The figure remained silent and unmoving throughout the torment. Finally, the sensation subsided once more.

"We observed Starkiller's ship make its way towards this system. We know you've had contact with the Earth Alliance recently. The question is, what could Earth possibly have to gain from such a remote colony?"

For a moment, Agathon forgot his growing pain. His eyes shot open. "The what?" He asked in shock and confusion. Those obviously weren't the words his captor was looking for.

Karl Agathon could barely tell when the machine stopped this time. His skin had gone numb. His hands and legs twitched intermittently.

"I swear. I don't know anything about what you're talking about." Helo's breath was giving out every other word now. "We don't know anything about an Earth. It's just a story to us."

The figure paused his questioning. Agathon wondered if his own words were surprising the alien. He'd never been much of a believer in the Scrolls, not like his family was. His belief in the Gods had shifted back and forth throughout his life. Earth was just another piece of the mythology. The name hardly ever came across his mind. Now, not only did an Earth apparently exist, they had somehow dragged the Colonies into their war. Seizing his opportunity, Helo spoke to the cloaked figure again.

"We've lived on these worlds for thousands of years. Alone." He felt no shame in his pleading voice. "We've never even encountered other life until now. Why did you attack us?"

The figure appeared to shake its head. "If you were truly that isolated, why would an Earth warship bring one of its greatest warriors here? It's very simple. The more difficult you make this, the more pain you will experience. I've had a lot of practice working with humans. With the right techniques, we can maintain life for weeks... even months, in this condition."

Helo remained silent. He could barely muster up the energy to speak, even if he had something to say. He briefly wondered how long his mental state could hope to hold out. If he could really last that long without giving away every secret he knew. If he had a suicide pill, now would have been the time to pop it.

"We'll allow you some rest." Said the figure in a disappointed voice. "Your friend has already proven far more cooperative, anyway. She is much more responsive to our coercion. She'll probably suffer less, in the end. You could learn from her."

Helo heard the footsteps grow quieter in the distance. With his last gathering of strength, he opened his eyes long enough to catch a glimpse of the figure as it passed through the light. It was draped in a black outfit, with with a purple line running up its back. As the finale for his first session of torment, he caught the briefest image of back of his captors head. It wasn't wearing a helmet. It had bones jutting out the back of its head, curving around the back and above it's scalp. There wasn't a shred of doubt left in the lieutenant's mind. The Twelve Colonies were at war with something alien.

The bridge of a Minbari war cruiser was a much quieter affair than its human counterpart. Despite their immense size, a Sharlin made due with a command staff of only four. Absent were the dozens of displays plastered along the walls, feeding information to the crew. Instead, the room was adorned with the markings of the Wind Sword clan, one of the longest lasting and proudest in the entire Warrior Caste. To the back of the room, the Wind Sword's emblem dominated the entrance. It consisted of a sword overlaid on a round sphere, with a diamond placed before the sword's tip. The sphere once merely represented Minbar, homeworld of the Minbari Federation. After their kind spread to the stars, it came to stand for the entire Minbari race. The diamond was an ancient Minbari stand in for a star. To the Wind Swords, it represented other races that would inevitably eye their race with jealousy and hate. The sword kept the diamond at bay, demonstrating the Wind Sword's intent to defend Minbari kind from any enemy that would threaten their way of life.

From the front of the command center, the lofty form of Alyt Lorann stood upon a field of stars. Minbari ships lacked the simple electronic view screens of human ships. They possessed something far more intricate. With a single command, the entire front of the room transformed into a three dimensional view of the entire playing field. It engulfed Lorann, allowing him a birds eye view of the combat area with a few turns of his head. The captain played back the footage of their last engagement. Something wasn't making sense to the veteran Minbari commander. These human vessels had an unfamiliar configuration, and their weapons appeared to be basic kinetics. The human strike craft had pursued their bait right into a predetermined patch of space. After exiting hyperspace, their enemy had been torn apart within seconds. With a wave of his arm, the theatrics ceased.

"That exit from hyperspace was unacceptably imprecise." Lorann said in agitation. "The last time we laid this trap, we exited so close to the human fleet our hyperspace wake alone destroyed some of their ships."

"The lack of beacons makes it extremely difficult to get precise coordinates." Replied a female voice seated at the ship's tactical station. Khala. His right hand. She was a Kor, an officer specialized in a multitude of ship functions. Like Lorann, her forehead was marked with a set of brown dots that made up the Wind Sword clan's markings. The natural ebb and flow of hyperspace turbulence made navigating the beaconless area of space a nightmare. To make matters worse, the system was comprised of multiple stars, which was wreaking havoc with their navigation systems. Stars were massive enough to flood local hyperspace with the equivalent of waves, potentially knocking a vessel off course. The Minbari were native to a binary system, and had more than enough experience with hyperspace travel to compensate, but the star system was still keeping the navigators on their toes.

"Strange the humans would attempt to settle such a turbulent system." Lorann remarked, voicing his curiosity. "And without any beacons? I wouldn't know whether to admire their bravery or pity their stupidity." The captain raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, a holographic model of the planet below came to life in front of him. They were on the world's far side now. To Lorann's bewilderment, there was nothing small about this outpost. Great fields of light stretched across every landmass. They were obviously cities, but that shouldn't be possible...

Lost in his own mind, Lorann failed to notice one of his subordinates patiently waiting to be acknowledged. As the captain raised his hand to manipulate the image, he caught the smug looking man out of the corner of his eye. "Tarreck." Lorann said in a clipped tone, joining his hands at his waist. "Have you made progress?"

"Unfortunately... I have not." Tarreck said after bowing to his superior. The smile the interrogator wore on his face after his sessions always made Lorann uneasy. "It's been so long since I've worked with a human. I was a bit over eager. Though I'm sure it will make them more cooperative next time." Tarreck's grin grew ever so slightly. "So far, I've made the most progress with the male. The female merely remained silent for the duration. She seems to have an uncharacteristically high tolerance for pain."

"Has he revealed anything about the nature of this system?" Lorann asked, already prepared with his most pressing question.

To Lorann's surprise, Tarreck looked somewhat uneasy at his query. As if he was deciding whether or not he even had anything worth reporting. "He's claiming he isn't aware of Earth's existence. Or even the existence of other races." Seemingly unsatisfied with his own reply, Tarreck continued. "He's unlike other humans I have questioned. He didn't spit in my face or plead for his life. There wasn't so much defiance, more confusion. And, while this may not be of importance... His uniform is unfamiliar. It had no Earth markings, and what emblems it did have I don't recognize."

Lorann processed his interrogator's report, connecting it with what pieces of information he'd gathered on his own. Their fleet had stumbled upon this system while tracking an Earth warship. Their intel indicated it was the very ship harboring the great human warrior, Starkiller. The supposed coward who had destroyed their flagship, the Drala Fi', with a few well placed mines. One of the senior members of their clan, a respected higher-up of the Warrior Caste, had made it his own personal crusade to avenge the warship. Alyt'sa Abidor had taken thirty of their finest ships on a quest for vengeance that seemed to be leading nowhere, when they stumbled upon a number of human ships. They appeared unarmed, and Lorann had considered protesting their destruction, but knew Abidor would only rebuke him with the need to hide their presence. Once they had located the source of human ships in the system, Abidor had ordered an all-out assault on the colony.

The entire conflict had been extraordinarily unusual. Normally, humans concentrated their fleet in one place, giving them the greatest chance of closing the distance and fighting back effectively. Here, human reinforcements had been steadily funneling in until recently. Lorann almost cursed the swiftness of the initial battle, desiring a chance to examine the unusual human warships in greater depth. They appeared to be using some unfamiliar form of jump drive. The orbital presence was also unusually high. Hundreds of satellites, dozens of stations of varying size... No remote colony would have this much infrastructure. And then came the revelation displayed before them.

"Look at their world." Lorann said, gesturing towards the holographic projection. "Look at the size of their cities. There must be billions living among them."

"Billions?" Tarreck asked in disbelief. "That can't be right. Humans have only been a space faring race for the blink of an eye. They couldn't possibly have such a sprawling world this far from their home."

"And yet there it is, defying all reason." After dismissing the holographic with another flick of his wrist, Lorann turned to face Tarreck. "Is there any way, any possible way, he could be telling the truth? Could these be a separate faction of humans from the Earth Alliance?"

"How could that be possible?" Tarreck asked "And if it was, how would they have simply forgotten so much about their past?"

"I don't know." Lorann replied honestly. "But it's enough to make clear something very peculiar is going on."

"Why does it matter? It doesn't change anything." Tarreck said matter of factly. "Even if they're physically separated, they're still spiritually identical. They still share the same cowardly disposition that murdered Dukhat. They deserve the same fate."

"That's not for either of us to decide, Tarreck." Lorann said, shrugging off his subordinates comment. "Our ship's mission was information gathering. This seems like a significant enough discovery to bring to Abidor's attention." Raising his hand, Lorann manipulated a set of controls that appeared before him on command. A few flicks of the wrist later, a video feed of the human male locked in a holding cell deep within the ship displayed. "I'd like to speak with this one myself. You said he was the more cooperative of the two?"

"To an extent, yes. Though I don't see what it would accomplish." Declared Tarreck.

"It might help me give a more complete report to Abidor when we make contact with him." Lorann explained. "As your the only one on the ship who can speak the human language, I'll be summoning you to his cell shortly. For now, you're dismissed."

With a brief bow, Tarreck turned and left the bridge. The man's profession had always disgusted Lorann. What honor was there in tormenting an opponent who was already defeated,especially when there were ways to extract the information directly from the mind painlessly. While he could see the necessity, Tarreck seemed to take an unnatural joy in his work. The whole war left a similar taste in the captain's mouth, though it wasn't his place to say. This possible revelation, however, complicated matters.

"Change course for the flagship." Lorann ordered as he dismissed the star field all together. "Inform me the moment we are in communication range with Alyt'sa Abidor. The ship is yours, Khaleer." Lorann nodded at the female tactical officer and departed the spacious command center. By Valen's name, he would get to the bottom of what was going on.

The tension that had permeated through Galactica's CIC hours ago had given way to a far more ordered routine. The whole command staff was laser focused on coordinating Triton's evacuation. Dualla had been skillfully juggling the raptors of both battlestars every five minutes, the amount of time it took for one wave to launch and the other to land. As of now, they'd managed to haul roughly two hundred men and women onto Galactica. They were being stuffed into cargo holds, empty corridors, anywhere they had room.

"When we've relocated Triton's crew, we'll jump a raptor to Picon." Adama checked his watch, pleased to see their rate of transfer was keeping pace with his personal estimate. "Give them an update on our situation. Semavatevi is too close to the combat zone to be a safe drop off point. Depending on our next set of orders, we could be stuck with them for awhile."

"I don't know if I'd feel comfortable going into combat with seven or eight hundred stowaways clogging up the hallways." Tigh remarked.

"The alternative is wasting a day crawling to Aerilion ourselves." Galactica, being a relic of the first Cylon war, hadn't used its own jump drives in nearly twenty years. There was some amount of danger involved in warming them back up, and without the sophisticated nav computers the more modern battlestars came equipped with, a ship had to calculate most aspects of the jump manually. "We might not have that kind of time."

"Colonel!" Called out Petty Officer Dualla. "Could you help me double check these manifests? I want to make sure I'm accounting for all their raptors properly."

Adama shook his head as the Colonel complied with the communication officer's request. She should have damn well known how to do such basic tasks by the time she was assigned to his ship. The young woman had shown talent managing the evac up to this point, it was possible she was just nervous. Oddly, Tigh seemed to give the woman a rather large grin as they spoke, and he parted from her with a tight grip on the shoulder. As Tigh made his way back to CIC's central console, Dualla called for his attention.

"Triton's CAG is requesting to speak with Actual about an urgent matter."

"Their CAG?" Adama replied curiously. If there was an issue, it would have made sense for Triton's CAG to go their own CO. Why in the worlds would they need his attention? "Go ahead and patch them through." He said, removing the phone from its receiver.

After a thumbs up, Adama spoke into the device. "This is Galactica actual. I understand you have an urgent matter to discuss?"

"I do, sir." Came an intensely familiar female voice. Even over the garble of the wireless, Adama recognized it almost instantly. He gripped the console, hoping against hope he was actually hearing her. "I need to discuss what I'm hearing."

"What you're hearing?" Adama repeated with agitation. Then, a wide smile crept across the commander's face. "And what do you hear, Starbuck?" He questioned without skipping a beat.

"Nothing but the rain." Kara replied in turn. The greeting had a long history stretching back to the very beginnings of their friendship. A massive weight felt as if it was being lifted off Adama's shoulders as a mix of relief and jubilation washed over him.

"Then grab your gun, and bring the cat in." He said, finishing their little game. "Starbuck... Kara... It's good to hear your voice. I always knew you'd make CAG one day."

"Well, when the five people ahead of you on that big board get blasted out of the sky... it does good things for your career." Kara replied, feeling a tinge of guilt at her own joke. "Do you know what it's like out there?"

"I have an idea." Adama said. "I'm looking at pictures of your ship right now. It's a fraking miracle you people made it out in one piece."

"Triton's a tough ship." Kara stated proudly. "Not as tough as Galactica, but..."

"It's a tough ship alright." Adama said agreeably. "If it's been able to put up with Starbuck for this long."

"Those things, sir..." Kara said, swinging the conversation back. "I fought them myself. I killed one of them. Our forces can't keep charging in like we're dealing with regular old baseships."

"The war's young." Said the commander. "We'll hit the bastards back so hard they'll be running back to whatever hell they came from with their tail tucked between their legs." He smiled again and added, "You think they have tails?"

"Like in that stupid movie you made me agree to see with Zak? No, I don't think it was a documentary."

"Sir!" Called out Lieutenant Gaeta with great distress. Adama lowered the wireless. "Dradis contacts! At the edge of our scope, I can't tell how many. No IFF. Size is difficult to make out, but I'd say it's comparable to us."

"Do they see us?" Tigh asked urgently.

"They must." Replied Gaeta, examining his rotating display, which was beginning to fizzle with static. "Blips are getting stronger. Dradis is being flooded by electromagnetic waves. They're definitely coming at us."

"I have to go." Adama said into the wireless just before slamming it back in.

"Sir, wait-" Kara blurted into the receiver just as she hurt the definitive click. She grabbed her hair, pacing back and forth in the pilot's briefing room. She knew damn well they wouldn't stand a chance against those things, not in their condition. Adama was the wild card. Would he stay and get themselves killed too, or make a run for it? Wracking her brain, she fought to come up with something, anything. Charging into the alien ships wouldn't work. And they weren't fast enough to escape.

If they wanted to survive, they'd have to do something radical. Something outside the box. Something...

Kara's eyes widened as the epiphany struck her. With the clock ticking, she blasted out the open bulkhead, and raced to make it to CIC before Holloway and Adama came to their final decision.

Commander Holloway gave a drawn out sigh as he watched the raptors zip back on forth over the Dradis display. Their crippled ship would cease to be a burden on Galactica before long, and back on course for Aerilion. They'd be operating with a crew of no more than eighty, just enough to keep vital functions going. Sager had already completed the process of sifting through Triton's crew manifest. The Colonel had the honor of handpicking which crewmen would have the privilege of staying with the ship. From the start, it had been a forgone conclusion Holloway himself would be among them.

"Shouldn't be more than an hour." The colonel said optimistically. "With any luck we'll be giving some unlucky engineer at drydock a headache in a couple days. Ship's more banged up than my first car."

"If we make it that long." replied Triton's CO. Their combat readiness would be almost nonexistent for the duration of their flight to Aerilion. A half dozen pilots would be staying with the ship, as well as a handful of gun crews to man the ships weapons manually. Sager would be doubling as the ship's fire control officer. They'd be worthless in a fight, but that would've been true even fully staffed. If trouble found them, their backup plan consisted of making a dash for the remaining raptors and using them to jump to safety. From inside the ship, if need be.

"We'll make it." Sager replied reassuringly. The XO appeared to be holding up better than the commander. Now that some time had passed, and the adrenaline was beginning to leave Holloway's veins, the cold reality of their situation was beginning to take a hold of the man. They'd narrowly escape being slaughtered. The Twelve Colonies were in the middle of an all out war, possibly for their very survival, with an enemy they knew nothing about. The thought terrified the newly veteraned commander.

"I considered evacing every soul." Holloway confessed with a modicum of guilt carried in his voice. "Having the ship put on autopilot for drydock, then jumping the crew straight to Picon. Or Scorpia. Somewhere safe."

"The brass would have your career in front of a firing squad." Sager said flatly. "Couldn't risk Triton being captured or infiltrated."

"I know." Holloway said in a low voice. His hands were clasped together, resting on the command console. He feared his face betrayed too many of the unwelcome thoughts bubbling up from his mind.

"Looking for a way off the ship?" Sager ventured in a more accusatory voice than he intended. To the Colonel's surprise, the question was greeted with a nod.

"I'm cursing myself for daring to even have the thought." The commander replied. Holloway caught himself finicking with his hands as he spoke, and gripped the console in an effort to stop himself. "I thought I was ready for actual combat. We spend the last decade or two having every thought and reflex drilled into our head, then the moment actually comes..." His voice drifted off turning his gaze back towards the Dradis display, unable to meet Sager's eyes.

For a painful few seconds, there was silence between the two weary officers. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, Sager placed a hand on Holloway's shoulder. Sager's grip was firm, but his voice remained low. "You got us out of there alive. That's all you could have possibly done. You- we handled ourselves well back there."

"We knew there were a lot of civilian ships out there." Holloway replied. "Some of them couldn't be too far from us. I thought about ordering a few of our birds to seek them out and get them to safety. But I was afraid it would have left us that much more defenseless. Then nothing came at us."

Unsatisfied, Sager took his hand from Holloway's shoulder. He turned to lean on the command console beside them. "Remember those officer training classes back in Perkinston?" He began as he crossed his arms. Perkinston was one of the larger cities on Picon, home to one of the most acclaimed universities in Colonies. "How they'd have old vets from the Cylon war come in and give us lectures about what it was like to be in the middle of a real shooting war. There was one... I can't recall his name, but it doesn't matter. He was an engineer on the Columbia, the original one. He said the hardest part of what comes after the battle is living with the decisions you made during the chaos."

Sager glanced at the crew busily going about their tasks, double checking no one was nearby. "I've been running through the battle in my head. I decided which sections got fire suppression teams, which were vented into space..." The XO's own voice was beginning to incorporate a tinge of regret, an emotion Holloway had never observed in the man before. "Compared to that engineer, I'm lucky. I had a computer to crunch all the numbers and make a lot of the tough calls for me. That doesn't stop every one of those red dots from haunting me."

"What if it's not what I did?" Holloway asked, leaning on his hip to face Sager. "I have a family back on Tauron. I made the call to jump away, and to keep our fighters to ourselves." Finally, the commander raised his eyes, allowing them to meet Sager's. "What if I'm just using 'I had to' as an out? To tell myself I didn't have a choice? Because the more I think about, it... the more I'm terrified by the idea of leaving my children without a father. What if next time, what keeps the ship afloat doesn't happen to coincide with what's best? And I get more people killed in the long haul?"

Sager raised his voice, ready to counter his commander, when a loud set of chirps rang from the Dradis console. "Contact!" came a concerned voice from across the room. Holloway and Sager straightened instantly as they turned their attention to the Dradis console. Something was making its presence known at the edge of their visible range. "I can't get a clear return, but it's definitely there." The brown-haired man looked up from his display. "The readings are consistent with what we saw from the ships over Canceron. It's on a much smaller scale, but it's unmistakable. They're not Colonial." He finished grimly.

"Looks like our new acquaintances finally found us." Sager remarked, stepping down from the central command console to look over the Dradis operator's shoulder. The lieutenant looked more than a little white in the face. "Do we have any idea how many?" The XO asked urgently.

"It's about as difficult to get a picture of them as it was last time." The lieutenant replied frantically. "But there's significantly less EM interference clogging up our Dradis. Going by what readings we're gathering and the amount of interference compared to our previous encounter, I'd say it's a much smaller strike group. Maybe a handful of ships, if that."

"What about an estimate to interception?" Holloway inquired, knowing full well the lieutenant might not have the foggiest idea. "Give us an educated guess."

"Educated guess?" The officer repeated, still studying the readouts in front of him. Standing behind him, Sager watched the display intermittently fizzle with static. "Maybe twenty minutes, if the range they started shooting at before was their max. They're trailing us, so that buys us a few minutes."

"Trailing us?" Holloway asked in shock. "We're heading towards Canceron. If they're trailing us..."

"Then our line's even more fraked than we thought." Sager finished as he resumed his regular position opposite of Holloway, to the aft of CIC's central console.

"We don't have enough time to finish the evac." Holloway admitted in horror. "Kira, get Galactica on the-"

"Galactica just hailed us, sir." Kira interrupted. "Adama is requesting to speak with Actual directly."

"Put him on, and patch it through the speaker." Holloway barked out. He fought to maintain his cool as he held the receiver to his mouth. "This is Triton actual. I'm assuming you're seeing the same thing we are."

"They might have tracked our communications." Adama suggested as his voice came to life over the wireless. "It doesn't matter. We need a plan, now. There isn't enough time to finish the evacuation." He said flatly. The commander's cool demeanor in the face of despair impressed Holloway, who'd been on edge ever since their last jump.

"We have an idea of what they look like on Dradis." Holloway stated hopefully. "We've assessed they aren't terribly numerous. We could potentially fight them on equal footing."

"With the condition Triton's in, you wouldn't last ten minutes into a real fight." Adama said, shutting Holloway down. "I'm not going to lie to you commander, we don't have a lot of options."

"We could get a raptor to Picon, have them send reinforcements." Jacob rebuked, not giving up so easily.

"There isn't time." The commander said instantly. "We're warming up our FTL computers now. I have a favor to ask you, Jacob. And it isn't an easy one."

"What can we do, Adama?" Holloway asked nervously. He rubbed his forehead. A fine layer of sweat was starting to accumulate. He was sure he wasn't the only person in CIC.

"We don't have the time to calculate a jump manually." Adama began. "One of my officers has informed me your ship is equipped with a networked navigation computer. You should be able to calculate a jump for us, and transfer the data over in a fraction of the time." Holloway could feel the regret in Adama's voice, both commanders hoping against hope there was some strand they were missing. "It's a hell of a lot to ask..."

Holloway nodded at Sager, who instantly sprang into action, rallying the ship's navigation officer. "We'll have the coordinates transferred over to you as soon as possible." Holloway replied, more sternly than he expected of himself. "And we'll start making preparations to attempt a jump ourselves. We might still have time to get one more round of raptors from-" Holloway was interrupted by the sound of slamming footsteps as a figure raced through the entrance of CIC. The woman practically threw herself in front of Holloway. It took a moment for the commander to recognize the woman as Kara Thrace. Her face was beat red, and sweat dripped off her head and hair.

"Sir. Adama. Holloway." She struggled to get the words out, barely bothering to breath.

"Thrace?" Holloway asked, looking a bit bewildered. He still held the receiver to his face.

"Kara's there?" Came Adama over the wireless.

"I know we don't have a lot of time," Kara began, wiping the sweat off her brow. "But I need you to hear me out. I have an idea."

From the CIC of Pegasus, Admiral Cain studied the the freshly updated strategic display along side Colonel Fisk. She hunched over the sizable gray table, her hair draped almost down to the touch screen. Belzen remained front and center by the room's central console, which at this moment displayed an overview of the ship. Resigned to his commander's decision, Belzen had switched gears and spared no effort in ensuring their ship was as primed for a fight as was possible for a battlestar. They'd received a new dispatch from Picon not long ago. Those situation reports were becoming more sporadic, owing to the destruction of much of Canceron's communications network. According to the latest reports, they'd been pushed back from the planet's orbit almost completely. They were in full tactical retreat, focusing now on guarding strategic installations on the outskirt of Canceron's sphere of influence. The admiral was grateful for the initiative her rank allowed her to take.

"The good news is, according to the latest wave of reconnaissance birds, that fleet's still right around where we expected it to be." Fisk explained to the admiral, pointing to a collection of red dots. They were trailed by a set of red dashes indicating the enemy ship's orbit. With each pass around the planet, it stretched further out. "Their course happens to take them to their closest point to the moon at about the same time we come around Hera's far side."

"Which means if we time it right, our course will intersect their orbit and we'll slam right into them." Cain said with a trace of satisfaction. "Can you estimate the amount of time between clearing the far side and detecting them ourselves?"

"If they maintain their current speed and heading..." Fisk began, switching the focus of their strategic display to center on Canceron's large moon, Hera. The extremely thin atmosphere allowed their fleet to hug the pitch black far side of the celestial body, taking full advantage of the physics behind orbital mechanics. Swinging around the moon with their engines at full burn would give a small, but existent nonetheless, speed boost. Theoretically, it would also mask them on their enemy's sensors until they were in line of sight. "Their trajectory takes them right through the L1 point between Canceron and the moon. We have a lot of hardware out there, manned and otherwise. That's probably their target." He paused, mentally crunching the numbers. "I'd say half an hour. We'll be blazing right at each other."

"Without knowing anything about their equivalent of Dradis, we'll have to assume they'll see us the moment we're in line of sight, if they haven't already." Cain reasoned while she straightened herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Belzen dismiss a pair of crewman before walking in her direction. "Which won't be another ten minutes."

"Admiral," Came Belzen's voice. The man handed Cain an electronic pad, which the admiral briefly skimmed it over as her XO continued. "Tubes one through twenty-four are loaded and ready to fire. They just need our authorization codes and they'll be set to fire." Cain gave a slight nod of approval. Belzen seemed in his element. "We have a viper in every launch bay awaiting your word."

"About our vipers..." Cain began, dismissing the overview of their fleet currently displayed on the monitor and replacing it with the familiar image of the massive blue warships firing green beams of light into the void. "I've been thinking about those images we received. Notice how they're not using any flak batteries? Just those beams weapons."

"They could rely on their jamming to screen out anything before it gets too close." Belzen suggested. "They could operate under a completely different tactical doctrine than us."

"I'd hazard a guess that if they're not using flak, it's because they don't need it." Cain stated, looking up from the display to meet her XO's eyes. "We already know they operate at much longer ranges than us. It's not unreasonable to assume their targeting computers are far more sophisticated than ours. The beams they're using on their capital ships might double as anti-fighter weapons as well."

"If that were the case, given the amount of armament being reported on those things..." Belzen started, running his mind down the same path as the admiral. "They'd make mincemeat out of any fighter squadron."

"Precisely." Cain said agreeably. She had nothing but assumptions and logical connections to work with. Their new enemy was still almost a complete unknown. She knew the risks involved in openly engaging a force that, by all indications, had them outmatched in every way. But if they wanted to change that lack of information, they had to take chances. "We need to saturate the air with targets. Every bird we can put up, to maximize their chance of getting through."

"Why don't we just wait until we're closer in before launching our fighters?" Belzen questioned. "To maximize their numbers."

"If their heavy weapons really do double duty as anti-fighter, our vipers will also work to absorb their fire while we close into range." The admiral concluded. "Colonel Fisk, show me our formation on the display again."

With a brief affirmation, Fisk brought up a series of green dots neatly lined up against a large white outline, representing the moon. The admiral zoomed in more, displaying the position of each ship in their battle group in great detail. Their formation was made up of a conglomeration of the BSG's that happened to be berthed at Scorpia at the time of the attack. "I want our battlestars to assume a T-shaped formation. Order the Cerberus and the Osiris to make up the line with Pegasus at the center. The Anubis will keep below our belly." Helena ran through battle ahead in her mind. Ordinarily, they would keep their cruisers in a ring around the battlestars, using them as a screen against incoming fighters and missiles, while the battlestars slugged shells from the back. If they did that here Cain figured they'd need every ship they had up front. "We'll put our cruisers a tight formation up front. All of them. We need to cover our battlestars long enough for them to close the gap."

"That's a risky move." Belzen stated, keeping pace with Cain's mental image of their fleet. "It'll mean a much weaker flak screen on our flank. Not as a big of a deal if we're fighting an enemy that doesn't use missiles, but we don't know how agile they are. They could flank our battlestars and we'd have no cover."

"It's a tradeoff for survivability against their heavy hitters." Cain explained. "If we go at them conventionally, they might be able to knock out our battlestars before we get our nukes off." We make a wall of armor, give them a lot more to deal with at once, we might be able to close the distance with fewer losses." The hope was, they'd be able to tank the hits long enough to get into range. Once they were close enough, she would order their formation to break and surround the enemy ships, then let loose with their nuclear missiles. They had to be close for their alpha strike. If their point defense was as accurate as Cain feared, any launch from further away would be intercepted with ease.

"I'll start herding the sheep now." Fisk replied, tension evident in his voice. They'd be flying into their first engagement in no more than half an hour. Everyone was on edge to some extent.

"Have the other battlestars start putting every viper they have a pilot for in the air. Belzen, order own squadrons begin launching." Cain barked out.

Taking a breath, Belzen reached for his receiver, and began calling out the names of the first wave of squadrons out the launch tubes. Cain observed the green dots on the display begin shifting around, organizing themselves into their newly allocated slots. By Colonial standards, the formation was unconventional. However, their new enemy had already trampled over established doctrine. Cain ran her knife over the palm of her hand. If they didn't adapt soon, many billions would pay the price.