Disclaimer:I don't own Battlestar Galactica, Harry Potter or any related registered trademarks. No money is made by the author for this work of fiction.


Chapter 03

Battlestar Galactica

Commander's Quarters

Bill Adama was in his quarters reading his favourite book. Ironically enough, even though it was his favourite, he had never finished it. He didn't want to know how it was going to end. If it was a disappointment he would rather live in the now and not know. He had enough disappointments already. His son was a disappointment. Well not his son specifically, rather his relationship with his son was a disappointment. Lee still blamed him for his brother's death. For getting him involved in the military in the first place. Personally he held enough blame for himself, but his son knew what he was getting into when he signed up. He knew that it could be the death of him.

'I don't know how Lee can't see that about his brother. His hate for me is an insult to his brother. I already have enough things to hate myself over as it is.'

He had plenty of regrets and disappointments in his life both personal and professional. He regretted that he couldn't seem to repair the relationship he had with Lee. He regretted the death of his wife. He regretted that he was retiring. He regretted that he was considered too stubborn to be considered for flag rank. He regretted three years ago when the people who did have flag ranks convinced him to send a pilot behind the red line in violation of the armistice treaty. And he regretted all those many years ago that he hadn't been able to save those people in that horrible room aboard the Cylon base ship.

'So many regrets. I wonder how many will be passed along to Lee?' Adama thought.

His intercom rang and he reached past his books that he was meant to be boxing up now that he and the ship were being decommissioned, and picked it up.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir, but we have a priority one fleet message…it was transmitted in the clear."

"What's it say?"

"Attention all Colonial units...Cylon...attack under way. This is no drill."

"…I'll be right there." Adama put back the receiver.

The man sat there few several moments before he exhaled heavily, feeling his age.

"So…It has begun," He said to himself. Adama picked up a picture that the chief had presented to him an hour ago. It was of him in front of his Viper with his two boys, Zack and Lee.

'No matter what we do…we still visit all our sins upon our children. I am sorry Lee.'

Adama stood up and quickly pulled on his uniform. Exiting his quarters he walked at a fast but unhurried pace towards the CIC. He ignored the various salutes he was given as he passed. A couple minutes later he was entering the CIC.

"Mr Gaeta, set condition one across the ship," He said levelly as he entered.

"Yes Sir…Set condition one throughout the ship," the officer repeated into a receiver.

Alarms began to blaze across the bridge and throughout the ship.

"Weapons," Adama called causing one of the officers to straighten. "Report!"

"Sir, we have ammunition for Vipers but that is about it. Nothing for the Galactica's main guns," The officer reported. The commander nodded. He knew that anyway. The ship was practically a flying fraking museum at this point.

"What's going on!" His XO Colonel Tigh asked as he showed up his uniform still unbuttoned. Adama nodded towards the report.

"This is a joke…The fleet is playing a prank on you as a going away gift," Tigh said.

"I don't think so," Adama said, face hard, as he recalled the events that made him have to shoot down one of his own pilots. He reached forward and picked up a mic.

"This is the commander. Moments ago this ship received word that a Cylon attack against our homeworlds is under way. We do not know the size or the deposition or the strength of the enemy forces, but all indications point to a massive assault against Colonial defenses. ...Admiral Nagala has taken personal command aboard the Battlestar Atlantia following the complete destruction of Picon fleet headquarters in the first wave of the attacks. How, why, doesn't really matter now. What does matter as of this moment...we are at war. You've trained for this...you're ready for this...stand to your duties and we'll all get through this. …


Cylon Basestar CIC

Edge of the Scorpio System

"…Further updates as they come available." A Three leaned forward and switched the sound off. She turned around to face the level above her where a silent figure was observing from the command post.

"That receiver Dural placed on the Galactica Bridge was a godsend, Thirteen," the brunette said, addressing a twenty-ish man with raven hair and a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. "The ship will no doubt seek out an ammunition deposition to rearm. I'd recommend we engage now before they have a chance."

"I've been given orders to observe only. Maintain surveillance."

The Three frowned in irritation but nodded, bending down to talk quietly with an Eight. There was a sound of clicking heels behind the man which caused his eyes to narrow. He stood stiffly but didn't flinch as arms threaded themselves around his waist.

"What is this…the mighty human-loathing Thirteen, passing up a chance to kill some humans. The worlds really have come to an end."

"Six…" he said tightly. "Of all the places you could possibly be on this ship, does it constantly have to be wrapped around me?"

"Why?" she said leaning to whisper in his ear. "Do you not enjoy having me this close?" the man said nothing and the woman chuckled lightly. She leaned her head atop his shoulder.

"You're tense. You really need to relax more. I think I could help you with that. Perhaps Eight could help too…" she suggested softly.

"Whilst I appreciate the offer…" he laid his arms across her and unclasped the grip she had around him. He stepped away and turned to face the blond woman.

"I doubt even you could relax me at this point." The woman looking put out.

"What is it that is eating you now?" She said looking terse.

"The same thing it always is. Cavil and the other Ones have been causing problems again." Six sneered at the mention of that particular line.

"What has that pathetic excuse of a machine done now?"

The man frowned looking deeply annoyed. "He has managed to convince the high council that my being human will mean I will be … sympathetic towards the plight of the Colonials, and will intercede if given any authority over the rest of the attacks."

The blond scoffed. "That is ridiculous. You have more than proven your worth to us over the past two years. Even he cannot dispute that. Apart from your earlier …misgivings, you have proved to be a more than a useful … specimen."

Thirteen smiled lightly. "Still can't bring yourself to call me a human, huh?" Six rolled her eyes at the remark.

"You're about as human as I am." Thirteen said nothing turning his back to her.

"I'm human enough," he muttered darkly folding his arms and observing the tactical readouts.

The beautiful blond woman came up behind him and placed her hands on his sides.

"Only in the ways that matter," she said in his ear, sliding her hands down.


Battlestar Pegasus CIC

Location unknown

Cain stood in the Combat Information Centre and repairs technicians were attempting to bring damaged consoles back on line. They looked hell-worn. They all did. Men and women with injuries of various states and descriptions attended their stations until they either passed out from their injuries, or an officer decided it was serious enough that they could no longer work. It was not an ideal situation. But half the crew had an injury of some description or another. In a combat situation they didn't get to stop working just because they were hurt. Not when so many other lives were on the line.

"Mr Hoshi!" Cain yelled at the man with a bandage wrapped around his head. "I don't give a frak that you have a concussion. I need communications operational before anything else. I'm an Admiral Frak it! I don't command just one ship but many ships! If you don't have communications up and running in one hour you can go out the same airlock Colonel Fisk did, now am I understood!"

"...Yes Sir." The man replied a bit shakily as he returned to fumbling at bringing the requested equipment back on line.

Cain nodded slightly, inwardly proud and concerned for the man. She didn't like to see any of her crew hurt. But in a fraked up situation like this she couldn't allow them to lie down on the job. The Rear-admiral turned to face her XO Colonel Jurgen Belzen.

"What's the status on the crew?" she asked quietly. The man shook his head sadly.

"Not good, I just spoke with the ship's doctor. It's not just the nukes, but add in those Cylon toasters making it on board…He thinks we'll probably lose a third of the crew."

Cain gripped the top of the tactical board bowing her head. The crew couldn't be allowed to see her looking weak. The Cylons had attacked. Her fleet at Scorpio was destroyed. Her own ship was being held together with at this point, bloody luck. A third of her crew would probably be dead by the time the dust settled from this in a couple days. And Gena had been a traitor.

"This is fraked," she muttered. If her friend and executive officer heard, he gave no words to disagree.


Downed Raptor

Caprica

"How you coming with that fuel line?" Helo asked.

"Almost there, we'll be airborne pretty soon," Boomer replied as she worked with tools on the damaged Raptor, not looking over.

"Sharon…Grab your sidearm," her partner said in a worried voice. It made her look up concerned.

There were people running towards them. Maybe a hundred.

"Helo?" she asked uncertainly

"Stand your ground!" he said as they levelled their weapons.


Cylon Basestar CIC

Edge of the Scorpio System

"Sir, I have something here I think you should see," Three called out. The raven-haired man frowned stepping down to a see a long distance tactical display that she was standing beside.

Thirteen liked the Threes. They made excellent second in commands. Proficient in stressful situations, they didn't rattle easily. When it came to tactical equipment and reporting, the Eights were Ideal. And the Sixes, as driven and passionate as they are beautiful, were ideal pilots and combat leaders. He had a soft spot for the aforementioned models and his ships were only sparsely populated by the male counterparts. Most of the male models didn't like him because he was human and most of them he couldn't stand being around for any extended period of time anyway.

As for the Ones, Thirteen and them had never gotten along and both sides would rather throw the other out the closest airlock than hold a civilised conversation. There were no Ones on his ship. They hated him and he hated them. But as for the Threes, Sixes and Eights, well…they all liked him.

"What is it?" he asked as he reached her. Three made a motion for the Right stationed at the console to explain as he examined the screen. It showed a few friendly IDs along with a whole host of enemy targets.

"The Battlestar we have been observing, The Galactica…well they have just launched a squadron of Vipers that have intercepted some Raiders. However the shutdown code isn't deactivating the Colonial fighters," Eight said, looking up at him.

The man frowned, the lightning bolt shaped scar prominent on his forehead as he considered that. "It must be a much older model then. One of the early ones that the algorithms the Sixes designed weren't able to incorporate successfully. …Where did the Raider's originate from?" he asked as he saw a couple of the Cylon fighters disappear from the screen.

"It was one of Cavil's ships," Three said with dislike in her voice. "Should I plot an intercept course?" the brunette asked.

"Is there a resurrection ship within range of the combat zone?" he asked.

"Yes. It's also one of Cavil's."

"Then it's not our problem," he said. "Cavil put us on observation duty and that's exactly what I plan on doing. Observing him, having his fighters blown out of the sky." Three smirked at that and turning to watching the display. Watching for another moment, Thirteen headed back to his command level.

Six was perched atop the lip of his console bank, her long legs bent regally as she supported herself on top with one hand. Thirteen stared at her for a long moment.

"Given what you are, I thought you would demonstrate some more respect for electronics," he said idly settling himself behind the computer bank.

From here he could monitor any other tactical output on his own monitor. He expertly created a new partition on the screen, relaying the tactical information he had just been observing to one corner of the surface. The rest of the display had outputs from the live feed of the bombing of Pikon, to the structural condition of his base ship, to the Cylon version of a dradis readout, displaying nearby ships.

"Well…the computers on this ship are things I have never had much difficulty in arousing response out of. You however…are proving a much more difficult challenge." Six slid down so she was reclined fully on top of the displays, one elbow supporting herself. "You are usually far more amenable."

"Today is an interesting day," he replied not looking at her as he scrutinised his screen with a frown.

"Cavil is fraking things up once more. The Galactica has just started using their older fighters to get around the shutdown codes your line designed. Now that one ship has had some foresight it is only a matter of time before a cascade occurs and we'll have more than just civilian traffic to clean up." Six bite her lip lightly thinking, before smiling.

She reached down and ran a hand across the top of his display. "What you could do …is violate the high council's orders. Expose Cavil for the fool he really is. Go after the rogue elements and prove once and for all, how pathetic his line really is."

"I cannot go against the will of the council," the man muttered absently, as the last of the Raiders contacting Galactica's squadrons were destroyed.

"You would not be alone if you chose to do so," the blond said lightly. "My line will support you so too will the Eights. As for the Threes, you would have no doubt noticed that every time she gives you a report she asks whether we should move in and engage. She hates Cavil probably more than you do. If the mistakes that are being made hold any weight, you will have all the evidence you need to convince the rest of the models to allow you independent action."

He looked up at her.

"Trust me, Thirteen," she said, swinging herself around so her legs were resting on either side of his chair. "Soon you shall have all that you desire."


Repaired Raptor

Caprica Orbit

Gaius leaned back forcibly against the bulkhead as the Raptor rattled as it broke orbit. He swallowed, bending his head, expecting the ship to explode at any moment, grateful yet terrified to be alive.

He hadn't thought he was going to make it out of there. He had seen the Raptor descending in the sky and had stumbled his way there with his briefcase. He hadn't been the only one either. There were probably about a hundred other people just as desperate to get off the rock that was once the star planet of the Colonies. In such a situation he knew his name would be useless. Nobody looked twice at him. They had eyes only for the two Colonial officers and the only way off Caprica alive. On some level he was grateful for that. He felt that if they looked to closely at him they would just know that it had been all his fault. The Colonies had been destroyed because of him.

The children were allowed onto the Raptor first. Four in all, after that it was a raffle. Three adults would be allowed. No more. The first had been quickly chosen. And then the second who thanked the lords of Kobol for the selection. When the final number forty-seven had been announced, Gaius felt all his hopes sink. When the old woman beside him had asked him what his card read and he saw the number forty seven, he had been in the midst of deciding whether he should tell her the truth or lie passing his own scrap of paper back and claiming it for himself.

The man, the one who had given up his seat for him had seen him. His name had not let him down and here he was now on the very bumpy ride to salvation. He exhaled deeply when the vessel finally broke orbit and the ride smoothed out.

'Thank the gods,' Gaius thought.

"You know what I love about you, Gaius?" a very familiar feminine voice said.

"You're a survivor."

The scientist looked around recognising the voice of her. He had seen her in the crowd to when he had been climbing into Raptor. He had looked away for a moment and she had been gone.

"I'm going insane," the man muttered to himself. "Hearing voices."

"They say it's the first sign of madness." Gaius looked up startled for the location of the softly spoken male voice. His found the source, a man pressed against the long range scanning equipment. It was the first of the raffle winners, the first number to be called out. The man, who couldn't' really be called that at around seventeen or eighteen, was probably only five foot seven, lightly built and dressed in casual street clothes. He had raven black hair and noticeably green eyes.

Two other things were interesting about the teen. One that he was sitting in the lotus position with a beautiful blond boy of about seven years seated on his lap. The other was that he was the only one on the transport who wasn't praying, crying or looking distraught.

"Lucky number thirteen," he said holding up a paper with the number written on it.

"What?" Gaius said in startled confusion. The situation just didn't seem to make sense in his mind. It was too out-of-place.

"There is a superstition amongst some that thirteen is an unlucky number. A harbinger of doom. I would have to say that it is rather lucky number for me though. You are rather fortunate."

"Fortunate?" Gaius asked looking lost.

"To be allowed along," the teen said leadingly. "Instead of being left behind."

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Gaius asked bewildered.

"Harry Potter," he replied with a slight smile.

"Well Mr Potter, I don't mean to be rude, but would you mind not speaking at the moment," The three times magnet award winner said in a short tone. The teen, Harry Potter, didn't seem particularly offended.

"Of course, but just so you know Gaius. Hearing voices is never a good sign."

Baltar frowned at the teen as he turned his attention on the boy in his lap. The boy seemed to be in a state of shock, his grey eyes unfocussed. Harry Potter embraced the boy from behind, rubbing his sides. In the quiet of the Raptor Gaius heard the words clearly.

"There, there, it's okay. You won't have to cry much longer.


Cylon Basestar CIC

Edge of the Scorpio System

"…are now down to 50% I expect that in a few more hours the last of the colonial military elements would have met the same fate," Three reported to Thirteen, standing beside him. "The Colonial military has ordered a halt on all civilian traffic so once the last of the military units are wiped out, we can finish off the civilian vessels at our leisure. …Did you hear me Thirteen?"

The man was tapping his thumbs together thoughtfully not looking at his second in command. "Yes, I heard you," he said but still not looking at her. Three looked a little bothered.

"Sir, might I suggest that we-"

"Sir! I have something," an Eight called out, interrupting Three.

"What is it?" he said standing up from behind his own station and walking forward to see what she wanted.

"I've just intercepted a Colonial political encryption transmission. A case orange. It means that enough of the Colonial political establishment are dead that the next president is elected by whoever is highest in line of succession…they are responding now."

"Hopefully Cavil is at least tactical enough to send raiders after the ships that respond," he remarked.

"If he doesn't, the Fives will at least," Three voiced.

"…It seems that the Fives will be going after the lower priority targets and One will be handling whomever is confirmed as president," Eight said, watching the changes in the Cylon Raider squadrons on his long range scanners.

"Well that's something at least. Route the sensor readings to my station," Thirteen said as he turned.

"Yes, Sir," the Eight responded.

Three watched as he walked away with a frown. After a brief pause, the brunette followed after him and stood beside him as he worked at his station, monitoring the positions of the Raider squadrons.

"Is there something wrong, Thirteen?" She asked.

"I dislike being made an onlooker," he said in frustration. Three said nothing. That much was obvious.

"Where is Six?" she asked, noticing that the blond Cylon wasn't hanging off him like she usually was.

"She claimed she had something to do," the man said absently as he watched a pair of raiders set a route for a colonial vessel. 'Heavy 798' according to the transponder. "Though I have my suspicions."

"Sir!" an Eight announced. "I've just intercepted a priority one message. The commander of the Galactica has just issued an order to all Colonial military vessels to rendezvous at Ragnar Anchorage."

"That's a Colonial ammunition reserve," Three said. "It's look like they plan to re-arm there after all. At least what is left of their military that isn't otherwise engaged with our forces, or disabled."

"The Two's are sending a pair of baseships and an operative to wait for them there," he said reading off his tactical readout.

"Like lambs to the slaughter then," Three said with a smirk.

"That is…if the One's don't continue to demonstrate their better judgments"

"Six!" Three said in surprise as the blond Cylon entered the bridge, coming up behind them.

"Where have you been?"

"That's between me and God," the woman replied causing the other to roll her eyes in annoyance.

Thirteen didn't greet the woman, focused on his display. He frowned as a nuclear detonation obscured the newly christened Colonial One and temporarily jamming sensors from getting an accurate reading.

"Eight!" he called out to one of the seated technicians.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Calculate the yield of the explosion that just destroyed colonial 798 Heavy. The new President of the Colonies was on that ship," he ordered.

"It was in the range of … 50 kilotons," she called back.

"Hmm," he said to himself watching the obscured screen with a frown.

"Fifty kilotons," Three said in surprise. "Our raiders are only carrying up to thirty kiloton warheads." Six leaned over thirteen's shoulder to examine the screen a contemplative look on her face.

"I dearly wish Cavil would double check things," he muttered bitterly to himself. There was a change on his screen as a ship jumped out.

"The Galactica just jumped out," Six intoned lightly.

"They'd be going for Ragnar then," Three alleged.

Thirteen said nothing for several long moments, his luminescent green eyes boring holes into the screen in front of him.

"Your orders?" Three asked.

"I still have to follow the council's directive on observation only," he thought aloud, before looking over at the brunette. "However I can observe from anywhere. Order my battle group to assemble at the former Colonial Armistice station and then plot our own jump to the far side of the Ragnar Anchorage out of Colonial sensor range."

Three smirked looking pleased.

"By your command."


Colonial One Forward Passenger Cabin

5 hours out of Caprica

Some hours later

Gaius Baltar frowned as he worked, mouthing to himself unconsciously various sensor readings as he sat in the comfortable chairs of the newly christened Colonial One. Certainly a step up from the hard bulkhead of the Raptor he had been transported in. The new President of the Colonies, Laura Roslin he thought she said her name was, had set him to work rather quickly with a slew of random transcripts and fleet transmissions and he had to somehow make sense out of them. There wasn't much to toil over.

"I see they've put you to work," a familiar voice said across from him. He looked up noticing it was 'her' before he looked back down again. "Ignoring me won't help," the blond woman said in amusement.

"I've decided you're an expression of my subconscious mind playing itself out in my waking states."

"So I'm only in your head?"

"Exactly"

"Hmm. Have you considered the possibility that I may exist only in your head, without being a hallucination." Gaius looked up in concerned surprise. "Maybe you see and hear me because whilst you were sleeping, I placed a chip in your head that transmits my image, right into your conscious mind."

"...No, no that's me again. My subconscious mind expressing rational fears," Gaius said to himself shaking his head and returning to his work. "Fears that I will choose to ignore."

"What are you working on?" The woman asked leaning over.

"If you were really in my head I wouldn't have to tell you that," he reasoned.

"Indulge me." There was a force in her voice that made him consider that. If she was just a hallucination there would be no harm in telling her.

"I'm trying to figure out how you managed to pull this kind of attack. The entire defense network shut down virtually without firing a shot. Entire squadrons just lost power as soon as they engaged the enemy. The program you designed, you built in backdoors which your company would be then later able to exploit."

"Altru-innocence" she said with a smile.

"That was your job?"

"Officially," the woman said. She looked hesitant. "Unofficially I had other motives."

"What motives?" Gaius asked. Six smiled, glancing past him.

"I see they've put you to work," a voice said. Gaius looked up startled sighting the teenager with the vibrant green eyes from the Raptor. Gaius's mouth opened and closed a couple times in surprise.

"I'm sorry, but what did you say?" Gaius asked.

The teen smiled slightly before sitting down across from him, the blond boy climbing up into his lap as soon as the teen had sat down. The older male wrapped his arms around the boy, smiling over the top of his head.

"I said…'I see they've put you to work,'" he repeated with a smile. Gaius swallowed nervously. Those were the same words she had used just a minute earlier.

"Ha- Harry Potter was it not?" Gaius asked. The teen smiled.

"Ah so you remember me. I wasn't sure if you would. You seemed rather done in on the Raptor. Then again you still seem rather beleaguered. Perhaps you should consider getting some rest." Gaius ignored the advice as he frowned at the teen. His personality was unusual to put it lightly. Unruffled and rather light. Unnerving given the circumstances.

"How exactly did you get in here?" Gaius asked, distracting himself with the question. "This area is meant to be only for the new President's cabinet and advisors."

Harry Potter shrugged giving him a bemused look. "Perhaps I should be elsewhere. But we-" he indicated the child in his lap, "decided that the first class cabin would have nicer seats. And I must say they are certainly more comfortable than leaning against those consoles in the Raptor or hanging around down in the cargo hold."

"That doesn't explain how you got in here," Gaius said. The teen chuckled lightly. "Very well, I will tell you my secret. Although you may be a tad old to be hearing this but…" he leaned forward slightly as if sharing some great conspiracy. "The secret to success in life is that no matter where you go, always look like you belong and no one will question it." Baltar gave the boy a look like he was insane and Potter chuckled.

He leaned down slightly to speak to the child in his lap. "You'll remember that lesson won't you, young one." Gaius looked at the young blond boy who gave no reaction. His grey eyes continued to stare straight ahead, unfocussed. The scientist swallowed. It was just creepy.

"So, what are you working on?" Potter asked. Gaius was torn on whether he wanted to tell this boy anything or to shout for help. He decided however that it would be unbecoming for Gaius Baltar however to be chased out by two strange children.

"I'm working on trying to figure out how the Cylons were able to disable the defense network so quickly. Entire squadrons just stopped for no reason," Gaius said, essentially repeated the words he had told to his hallucination.

"Probably some sort of program then," the teen remarked idly. Gaius' eyes widened in surprise. "W…Why on earth would you say it was a computer program responsible for this?" he stuttered suddenly afraid of this boys suspicions. It was his own program that was responsible, there was no telling yet how this would blowback onto him yet.

The green-eyed youth smiled lightly. "The Cylons are machines are they not? Logic holds then that they are especially gifted in the field of computer programming. We are told as much from the last war anyway. So many dead just because someone wanted a faster computer." The boy smiled tightly.

"And I have to say if 'I' was a Cylon planning to destroy the Colonies, I wouldn't rely on people to get the job done. I would use what I knew best to accomplish the objective. Technology. As you say if entire squadrons are going offline, it would be highly inefficient to be relying on people to accomplish the shut downs. It would be far more achievable using some sort of program and buried subroutine that can be activated by a signal. It would have to be a relatively recently installed program as well so that no one had the time to find any hidden codes in it. If you're trying to find what is responsible I'd suggest looking for any programs from the last couple of months that have been largely distributed throughout the fleet and are innocuous enough not to attract much attention."

"…Are you some sort of …programmer or something?" the scientist asked. "You are very knowledgeable for someone your age.

"A programmer? Me? …No." The boy laughed.

"I'm sure you know how it is Gaius. The new generation is often more experienced with technology than the previous generation simply because we are more accustomed to being in a time with advanced technologies and still have time to focus our attention more than adults who are distracted by more time consuming tasks."

"Right…that may be so, but you are unnaturally bright. And I don't mean just intelligent, you almost seem … content," Gaius said in suspicion. "It is very odd behaviour." The boy's smirked before laughing as if Gaius had told him some great joke.

"I shall choose to take that as a compliment," the green-eyed boy said. "In truth though, I guess you could say that I was somewhat of an experiment for my parents. They liked to give me as much stimulus' and intellectual curiosities as possible whilst I grew. So I expect that will account for my little oddities. I haven't gotten out much I'm afraid. And as for the second issue, what is there to not be content about?"

"We're alive aren't we? Not the nameless fallen back on the colonies. And on Colonial One no less. That can afford a certain contentedness. The situation isn't that bad."

Gaius scoffed. "Trust me, the situation could be far worse."

"How's that?"

"The Cylons could show up at any moment and wipe us all out for one. We're probably going to be here for hours at the very least whilst a couple of the Colonial military members in this little rag tag fleet check over all those ships."

"Oh, is that what they're doing?" the teen asked looking out the window. "There certainly are a lot of ships out there. I see your point. It'll probably take days to check all of them. And if the Cylons show up before they are finished…Have they told you how long it's going to take? Or where we're going to go for that matter?"

Gaius looked down to the papers on the low table in front of his passenger chair, trying to distract himself from the thoughts of a possible Cylon attack at any moment by starting work again. "Ragnar anchorage I believe. One of the military higher-ups is trying to force our new Madam President there."

"He'll need luck with that. I saw her on the way in. She seems…tenacious."

"Hmmph," Baltar said, obviously not quite a fan just yet.

"It is impressive that she was able to gather so many ships together so quickly," Harry remarked.

"If you say so," Gaius said distracted by what he was reading. The sound of whispering made him look up though. The raven haired boy was whispering softly into the blond boy's ear. The scientist couldn't hear what was being said but after a few moments the boy looked up at the older boy nodded once, before jumping off his lap and running off out of sight.

"Is that child yours?" Gaius asked.

"Huh? No of course not, I'm not even eighteen. So he's not mine. Biologically anyway. I guess he kinda is mine now though. I expect all his family was on Caprica."

"He's a strange child," Gaius remarked returning to his work. "Rather quiet."

"I like that about him actually," the teen said. "If it wasn't for that, he would look rather like someone I went to school with who I wasn't on particularly good terms with. …I might call him by that actually, just to give it some positive connotations."

There was a sound of light feet running and both males watched as the blond child ran past with the co-pilot on his heels. A clipboard in his arms. The child ran out of the first class section into second class through the curtain divider. Gaius watched that in surprise but the green-eyed youth just smiled lightly.

"I suppose I should attend to that. Goodbye, Gaius," he said standing up.

"Um, goodbye," the scientist said startled at the abrupt departure. "What a strange pair," he muttered as he left.

The green-eyed youth did not head backwards however rather forwards from the first class cabin into the now empty cockpit. He had already known that the pilot was elsewhere with the president. Sitting down he quickly used the communication panel to send an encrypted message. It took him another few moments to cover up that any message had been sent before he stood up once more and exited. It had taken him all of thirty seconds from entry to exit.

He walked through first class to second class, no one paid attention to him as he did so. He caught sight of the blond boy running towards him the co-pilot hot on his heels. The boy stopped at his feet. "There you are, Draco," Harry said loudly taking the clipboard off the boy and passing it to the flustered looking man. "Sorry about that."

The man frowned, before muttering it was fine, returning back to the cockpit.

The green-eyed youth smiled before bending down in front of the child ruffling his hair. "I think we should both be careful not to be making friends with the wrong sort, but then, I can help you there."


Battlestar Pegasus CIC

Location unknown

Rear Admiral Helena Cain stood beside her XO as he began summarising out the reports he had acquired over the communications network in the last twenty minutes or so. Unfortunately it had taken Lieutenant Hoshi far longer than an hour to fix the long ranger sensors and communications equipment, despite her warning of throwing him out of the airlock. It had been a lame threat however as there was no way that she would be throwing crewmembers out of hatches until they did something that warranted it. She kinda had a soft spot for Hoshi anyway.

When the equipment had been fixed she had Belzen go over it. It was definitely a pity her new aide had been sucked out an airlock with Gena and those marines.

"At least 70% of the fleet has been destroyed by this point. About another 25% are disabled or currently engaged with the enemy. The readings I've been receiving are bizarre to say the least. Entire squadrons, even whole Battlestars have just been going off line."

Cain sighed heavily thinking. "The Cylons must have done something to our ships. A new program or hidden shutdown code. …Gena was one of them, and as a systems analyst she was in perfect position to do this. I bet the same thing happened in the rest of the fleet. Now whenever the Cylons come near, they can just hit the 'off' switch on us."

The admiral had been given time in the last few hours to inspect some of the problem areas in her ship. They were suffering plain and simple. At least 900 crew members were dead. Entire sections were exposed to space having undergone explosive decompression. Her once proud vessel was a wreck which would probably take weeks to bring back to a fighting fit form. That's if she had a crew at that point. The explosions and the Cylon infiltration had done their damage.

She had seen the new Centurion models and they were far more lethal than the hulking specimens of her childhood. Those ones seemed rather pathetic in comparison actually. What had surprised her is what her crew were calling skin jobs. She had been called down by a marine team to identify what she had been told was the body of Gena. Whoever this was person was, even though she looked exactly like her, was obviously different. For one thing her Gena had been wearing different clothes and had intentionally sucked herself out the airlock with several of her crew members. This one had apparently come in leading the Cylon Centurions. Cain now had to admit that her Gena was not a traitor, rather that she had been a Cylon infiltrator he was just using her to have free access to the ship. Cain did not like being used.

"What ships are still functional then?"

"Well there is us … barely. I believe the Galactica as well. Some other Battlestars, four or five that will probably engage the Cylons with the next few minutes, and I just noticed the Hades battlegroup. They were practically off the grid. Unless they jump it'll be hours before they engage any Cylons," Belzen remarked.

"An entire fraking fleet! What the gods do they think they are doing not fighting!" Cain demanded.

"That's McAra's fleet," Belzen said simply.

Cain's lip curled in disgust. "McAra!... Why am I not fraking surprised."

Helena knew Rear Admiral Dolph McAra. He wasn't a soldier he was a politician. Rising to his position not through talent or merit but through connections. A regular sycophant that lawmakers like Adar kept promoting so they could have a loyal stooge in the Admiralty. Someone so that when the politicos needed another budget cut they had someone in the right place to agree with it. The only saving grace was that the man didn't outrank her.

She was a Rear Admiral Upper-Half and he was a Rear Admiral Lower-Half. It was a minor distinction but one that fraking counted and gave her some Gods damned peace of mind when she slept at night. Although she expected that sooner rather than later, the beauracrats would promote him past her.

"What are your orders, Sir?" her XO asked. Cain frowned thinking tapping her board. She had a look at the Colonial positions before turning back to her second in command.

"We jump. Straight to Hades."

"What about the rest of the Colonial fleet?"

"There is nothing we can do about that," Cain said bitterly. "Hoshi was able to fix it so we could listen in what's happening, but our long range communicators are fraked. And by the time the deck hands clear the bays enough to be able to launch a Raptor from that mess down there, the rest of the Colonial fleet will be wiped out. We need to jump now and begin to rally our forces."

"What about the other Battlestars out there? We could jump to them first before jumping to Hades. It'll be hours before Hades contacts the Cylons, plenty of time to gather some more ships," Belzen suggested.

"In a perfect world I'd do that. But I can't count of McAra not to turn and flee should anymore Battlestars fall. An entire equipped battle group takes precedence over independent, dead and damaged ships. Plot the jump," Cain ordered.

"Yes, Sir."


Ragnar Anchorage

Several hours later

Dural sat on the box of supplies rubbing his neck, the prelude of a headache beginning to appear. It had been half an hour since the Colonials, or rather Gaius Baltar, had accused him of being a Cylon and had left him here for dead. He wouldn't die though. It may take another few hours, but there were Basestars in the vicinity of Ragnar. They would either destroy the station and he would be killed, and hence uploaded into a new body, or… the station would be searched first in which case he would be discovered and hence rescued. Either way he wasn't worried about that.

What was bothering him is that Baltar had been right about him. He was a Cylon but there was no way…no way at all that he could have known that, or that he was the one to have left the tracking device on the Galactica dradis console. It didn't add up.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The model Five shielded his eyes as gunshots began to blast out the lock. A few scant moments later the doors were being pulled open by a pair of Centurions. Light spilled into the poorly lit armoury and the two robots entered, taking up position on either side of the now opened blast door.

Figures walked forward. A Three, Six and Eight. A man with short raven hair and a lightning bolt shaped scar lead them in.

"Thirteen. The humans have their fleet. They've gotten away," Dural said as he stood up.

"I'm aware. I've been watching their progress. …And their escape"

"The council is aware too" the Six said, turning to the man. "They've untied your hands. You can begin God's will at last." He nodded in response.

"The fleet is ready then," Three remarked.

"They will not escape us for long," Eight added.

"So you're going after them then?" Dural asked.

"If I had been allowed to intercept forces freely, there would be no human fleet to deal with at all," Thirteen said with narrowed eyes.

There was the sound of footsteps approaching. A figure came into view standing just outside the access doors. He looked like a younger version of the man already standing in the room except he had no scar, longer hair that fell between his eyes, a sleeveless black muscle shirt, combat pants and boots. He seemed athletic, probably around nineteen and around 5ft 8 or 9 inches tall.

"Our agents within the fleet have reported in. They will not get far," he said in a confident manner. The look-a-like with the scar already in the room nodded in acknowledgement before turning back to Dural.

"I shall leave the Galactica and the Civilian fleet for you to deal with. I shall go after Pegasus and the remaining military elements."

"But the war is over. They don't matter anymore," Dural persisted.

Thirteen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "This war hasn't even begun yet," he said his face cold. "Tell the others about the human fleet...when they arrive."

Turning, he walked away, followed by the pair of Centurions, and the female Cylons.

"Hey! You cannot just leave me here," Dural called after them. They ignored him continuing to walk away, out and past the athletic man standing stationary outside the blast doors. "Hey!" Dural yelled after them moving forward towards the door.

Despite that the electric motors in the door were either destroyed or inactive, they blast doors began to slide shut, seemingly under their own power.

"NO!" Dural yelled running towards the doors, only to have them close in front of them. The smirking face of the scar-less, emerald-eyed man standing still on the opposite side being the last thing he saw as it closed in front of his nose.

Dural banged uselessly on the steel.

"Gahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

END CHAPTER


AN: Thank you to those of you have offered thoughts and reviews for the last chapter. Thanks especially to SurrealDeceptions for your insight and interest. In that light, look for that button down the button and review.

EDIT: 30/09/11 Fixed up a myriad of typos that were long overdue.

EDIT: 01 April 2012 Fixed up even more overdue typos.