Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate in anyway shape or form the lucky people of MGM do. I also do not own Battlestar Galactica the people of NBC own it. I am only writing the story for fun and nothing else.
SG-13 The Cylon War
*Chapter 4*
*Loss*
*Cylon Colony*
*Three Weeks Earlier*
'This is not good, not good indeed,' though One to himself, as he meandered the halls of the Cylon Colony ship. The opening strikes of the war had gone off without a hitch, causing massive damage to critical infrastructure and control centres across the Colonies. Precisely as One had predicted. It should have broken most of the Colonial will to fight, to curl up like whipped puppies to lick their wounds.
Instead, unexpectedly, the Cylons had suffered a major raid on a Tylium mine/refinery well within Cylon controlled space. It was an unheard of response if based on past experience. It should never have taken place, but it did. And if that wasn't enough, the shockwave generated by the massive explosion was enough to cripple a nearby shipyard used to build and maintain most of the current model basestars used in the war.
The damage was enough to put a halt to the beginning offensive for the better part of three months.
Taking full advantage of the situation, the Colonials scrambled to repair their ship yards. In the end they were able to repair enough of the damaged infrastructure to maintain their own defenses and possibly entertain the thoughts of rebuilding.
In the long run both sides had broken even, losses equaling gains. John's great scheme of a quick win was left moldering in the ashes of defeat. Even now, as he rambled through the Colony's halls, his influence quickly waning, the looks the other models gave him spoke the same message over and over. 'I told you so."
Entering the room of consensus, he announced, "We need to force the humans back on the defensive if we are going to have any chance of rebuilding our forces!"
A two looked at him in absolute disbelief.
"I don't see that happening anytime soon. At last count, the Colonials had at least 300 active Battlestars of varying classes with support ships. We are having difficulties just holding them off as it is and I doubt they will agree to another armistice since we were the ones to break this one."
"The original plan had us trying to manipulate their government for years," commented a Three, "in the hopes that policies put in place would reduce the Colonial Armed Forces to an ineffective shadow of its former self. Thanks to that impromptu attempt to kick start the fall of the Colonies, my contacts in Adar's Administration say that they haven't seen this much military support in years. Between the draft and voluntary enlistment, the Fleet alone will have enough people to man existing Battlestars and any others they will be able to build."
"Well then," remarked a Four, "our only option now is to crush the humans morale, and do it solidly enough to at least give us time to rebuild, or at best force another armistice."
"Attack! Attack!," wailed Eight. "Has Ones madness become THAT infectious?! And I suppose you have some sort of idea to make this happen, Four?!"
"By taking a page out of the Colonials own playbook," Four responded quietly. "We take almost half of the remaining fleet deep into Colonial controlled space, and blow Caprica City clean off the planet."
The resulting silence fell with a THUD in the conference room.
"By destroying their seat of power," continued Four, "it should demoralize them enough to cause two favourable reactions. First, it should stun them enough that we should be able to reduce their fleet strength, and secondly, it should cause them to instinctively draw back into their own space in a defensive posture, leaving us alone to rebuild."
Stunned, it took One a couple of minutes to voice a question.
"Why not reduce the planet to a glowing lifeless rock?"
"Two simple reasons: it would take more nukes than what we possess to totally carpet bomb the planet, and the Colonials would bring in enough battlestars to defend Caprica before we could get the job done. The main idea is to get them off our backs, not eliminate them, at least not for now."
"And the insanity just keeps spreading," muttered the Eight, "but as this seems to be the only workable idea we have on hand, do we have consensus?"
*CAGs Office*
*Battlestar Pegasus*
Major Simpson took a moment to lean back in his chair and scrub his face with his hands. His desk was littered with paperwork dealing with squadron rosters, nugget dossiers, hardware requirements, and potential training plans to bring his squadrons up to a survivable status. Ever since being assigned the position, Simpson had done everything he could to ensure the survival of his people. Some would take to the training and survive. The others…., well when their number was up, it was up.
The Pegasus was finally headed in for some well deserved dock time. The past six months had seen some fairly heavy combat, meaning that she and her crew were in need of some R+R. Tim was no exception. He, like everyone else, needed a chance to decompress, reset, whatever the psychologists wanted to call it. So, once his paperwork was done, nobody would be able to see him for dust.
There was a very good reason for this urgency; a goblet of ambrosia with his name on it, to be raised in toast at Sean and Jenn's upcoming wedding. There was no measure to the pride and happiness he felt for his team mates' decision when he had received the invitation. He tried to show those feelings, in true SGC fashion, when he replied that 'Undomesticated Equines' could never keep him from coming. The only disappointment would be that Sarah wouldn't be able to attend. She and the Triton were out on deployment and would not be back in time for the celebration.
A quiet scuffing of a boot heel on the hatch coaming broke through Simpson's daydream. Looking up, he noticed Admiral Cain regarding him with a smile and a slight shake of the head.
"Admiral. Something I can do for you, Ma'am?"
"Shouldn't you be getting ready for some well-earned leave, Major? The last time we had dock time, you spent most of it updating training, completing supply requisitions, anything but relaxing. I don't know if you realize it, but you've gained a reputation as one hades of a CAG that all the pilots look up to. And while I appreciate your dedication to duty, I also realize you also need a break."
"Oh I'm planning on it, Ma'am," replied Simpson. "As soon as the last detail on this training syllabus is finished, I'm off to see two good friends. It's their wedding tomorrow. We're to meet in Caprica City, and from there we're off to the temple in Delphi to solemnize and celebrate the ceremony."
Cain nodded enthusiastically.
"An excellent reason for leave, but I do hope you plan to take some time for yourself. It's good to be with friends, but after the partying I bet you and they will want some alone time. Especially you; the last couple of months have been hard on all of us."
"You won't hear any argument out of me, Admiral," Simpson commented wearily. "We've all earned some well-deserved leave."
The moment of quiet was broken by a blaring announcement over the tannoy.
"ACTION STATIONS. ACTION STATIONS. ALL PERSONNEL MAN YOUR ACTION STATIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ACTION STATIONS."
The two officers broke into a run to their respective stations; Cain to the CIC and Simpson to the Launch Bay.
Entering the CIC, Cain barked out, "Colonel, Status!"
"We've received reports of a Cylon attack on Caprica itself, Ma'am."
"Jump Drive status?"
"60 seconds from ready. All fighters being prepped for a Combat Jump, ready to be launched on arrival. Orders are to jump in to attack the Cylon force from the rear."
"Are the jump coordinates loaded and ready? Shipboard weaponry locked and loaded?"
"Yes, Ma'am!"
"What are those toasters thinking," Cain quietly muttered to Belzen. "From the reports I've read, the war hasn't gone too well for them lately. They've lost more ships that we have during the last couple of months, and now they're attempting this? Something must be up!"
"I guess we'll find out if and when the time comes, won't we Ma'am."
"Mr. Fasjovik," Admiral Cain called out loud. "Jump us as soon as the drive is ready. We need to hunt some toasters!"
*Battlestar Galactica*
*Caprica Orbit*
One of the basic tenets of battle is that plans never survive contact with the enemy.
The Colonial plans for a quiet recon deep in Cylon space were abruptly cast aside as a small flotilla of Basestars had made a surprise jump into Caprican space and immediately began firing on anything within reach. Within moments debris and panic spread throughout space.
One's initial satisfaction quickly turned to annoyance as the Battlestars again proved to be hardier opponents than he had anticipated. While the Raiders were able to blunt the Colonial 'teeth', the ship to ship weaponry was causing more than enough damage to the Basestars. Monitoring the progress One started to wonder if there would be anything left to complete the primary objective.
Tactical maps and reports lay strewn across the CIC plotting table as Admiral William Adama 'calmly' attempted to shore up an extremely defensive position. He'd been able to rein in the mounting panic with an initial flurry of orders. The morass of ships was fanning out to provide the beginnings of a 'shield' deployment. This was to offer maximum protection to the various assets from the widespread damage they'd come to expect from the Cylons.
Lt. Kara "Starbuck" Thrace-Adama was fully expecting to be a multiple Ace by the time this battle was over. Many of the Viper pilots would be as well; if they could survive it. The Raiders were more numerous than fireflies on a warm summers evening, except with a lot more bite to them. The wireless chatter clearly reflected the situation. The supportive cheering was intermixed with abruptly cut off cries for help as fighters from both sides were being shot down with frightening regularity.
"DRADIS is showing new contacts!," called out a bridge crewmember. "I'm getting Colonial IFF's. It's the Pegasus, Sir!"
"Is there any messages from the Pegasus?" queried Adama.
"Just now, Sir. Admiral Cain has instructions to assault the toasters from behind. The intent is for them to 'hammer' the Cylons on our 'anvil'."
"Understood," rumbled Adama.
Major Simpson had reached and boarded his viper moments before the command to jump was announced. Still not comfortable with the feeling, Tim suffered through a couple moments of post-jump nausea before clearing his mind for launch. During these precious minutes he took the time to observe how rapidly the ground crew cycled the line of Vipers through the launch tubes and into the ensuing battle. There were big differences between the Colonials and the Tau'ri, and he hoped he'd be able to report those differences back to Earth.
Space was filled as the entire complement of Pegasus Vipers and Raptors were launched to support the Galactica. The rest of Simpson's squadron formed up around him as they made their way to the battle, wing mates quickly sorting themselves out. With the Raptors in place supplying onsite intel, the true size and complexity of this furball quickly became apparent. The Galactica's Vipers were clearly overwhelmed and needed immediate assistance. Breaking into their elemental teams, the Pegasus Vipers punched through the cloud of Raiders to assist their Colonial teammates.
Listening to the Galactica wireless chatter it was clear that most fighters were either on or just about past their bingo and skosh points and needed to refuel and rearm. Simpson broke into the chatter.
"Galactica Vipers, this is Kage of the Pegasus. Sorry to be late for this dance but our invites got lost somewhere in the mail. If you are getting close to bingo or skosh, land now for resupply. We can hold the line until you get back."
"Kage," called out Starbuck. "As in Tim Simpson? 'Athena' told me you had joined the fleet."
"Yeah. I was drafted a while back," replied Simpson, as he downed his first Raider. "Apparently I hit flight school just after you transferred out. Shame. I would have liked to see what you could have taught me."
"Yeah, yeah," moaned Starbuck. "One fight and the guy thinks he's 'Sierra Hotel.'"
With a momentary smile of remembrance, Admiral Adama broke into the chatter.
"Kage, Galactica Actual. What are your standing orders?"
There was a pause as Tim flipped his fighter to take out another Raider.
"Galactica Actual, Kage. Our orders are to support the Galactica fighters and to hold the line."
Nodding to himself, Adama quickly replied, "Copy, Kage. All Galactica fighters! If you have not already done so, land immediately for refuel and rearm. Pegasus is here to hold the line until you return."
As the rearming/refueling of Vipers progressed, Adama quietly monitored DRADIS activity. What he was seeing concerned him greatly.
"Reports say that this attack is happening all over Colonial space," Adama commented to Colonel Tigh. "But for some reason the number of Basestars jumping in here has almost doubled since the start of the attack. Something is up. I don't know what it could be, but something is up."
One was starting to panic. His losses were far more than he had anticipated even with the reinforcements showing up on time. The Colonial defense line was also. It was a great relief that the "special" basestar arrived in-system. "About time," he muttered to himself. "Send the order for the two heavy Raiders to prepare for their run. Once they've delivered the "package" they can jump out and join us at the rally point."
For those studying the DRADIS display, the fight was beginning to take on a life of its own. The ebb and flow shifted from location to location. It acted as if it was searching patiently for something. And in the end find something, it did.
The Triton had taken several hits early in the battle: some to the dorsal armor plating, and a couple to each of the flight pods. The damage was nothing to really worry about, or so they thought. A lucky strike on the Port Pod had ruptured small feeder lines supplying Viper fuel and life support for the maintenance bay, starting a small fire. Damage control had been dispatched to deal with it. With harried efficiency they arrived on site to locate and extinguish it. Thinking it was done, they moved on to the next trouble spot. They were wrong.
The fire 'ate' its along a damaged conduit until it reached the main fuel reservoir. The resulting explosion shifted/twisted the Triton enough that incoming Cylon missiles missed the armor plating and struck the 'soft' under belly near the engine section. Internal explosions rippled from bow to stern showing up like glowing ugly blisters marring the streamline shape. The once proud battlestar was quickly reduced to an expanding cloud of dust and debris.
Up to this point the Cylons were becoming desperate. Any attempt to break through the Colonial defensive line was met with stiff resistance. With the destruction of the Triton, the Cylons had the opportunity they had been looking for. With all basestars barely holding their own, it was decided to implement One's plan with just the two heavy Raiders rather than include a large escort. And with that, the two Raiders were launched, to make a jump through the gap to the planet below.
*Caprica City*
With the beginning wail of the air raid sirens, the city quickly changed from the bustling metropolis that it was to a veritable ghost town. Most of the population had scattered to the various public bunkers seeking the safety that they offered. Others found shelter in basements, cellars, any place they felt the safest. A hardy few chose to watch what they could of the battle from the entrance ways, hoping to catch a glimpse of the brave Colonial Warriors as they vanquished their Cylon foes.
That victory was not to be as their end was written in the sky.
A small quick flash and accompanying contrail announced the arrival of the two heavy Raiders as they made their final approach to the objective point. Very quickly the tracings of the intercepting vipers joined the raiders, corkscrewing in and about the clouds in an intricate dance of death. At one point victory seemed assured as Colonial missiles homed in to make short work of the Raiders, but only one 'intercepted' the missiles creating an impressive blossom of death.
Hidden by the debris cloud of its dying wing mate, the primary Raider checked its position. Once it had confirmed it was in place, it launched the anti-ship missile at the city. Its task complete, the Raider activated its jump drive to get clear of the impending explosion.
Streaking towards the centre of the city, the missile quickly outstripped the pursuing Vipers attempts to shoot it down. The explosion, when it came, reduced the centre core to a smoking crater, while buildings surrounding the edge were melted and shattered by the heat and shockwave.
Laura Roslin, the Secretary of Education, had been caught at the hospital when the sirens began their wail. Her only warning was the initial flash of the bomb detonating over the city. Quickly she was blinded, by the searing heat that bubbled her skin and set fire to her hair. Mercy came moments later when the shockwave shattered the room's only window, slicing her into oblivion.
Sean and Jennifer's warning was when power to the hotel's Cloud 9 suite suddenly cut out. The following rumble and vibrations quickly reached catastrophic proportions as all surfaces surrounding them broke into table sized chunks. Ignoring the carnage around them, the two lovers clung desperately to each other to share one last bittersweet kiss. As the building collapsed beneath them, the surrounding dust cloud engulfed and swept them on to eternity.
*Cylon Command Ship*
It was with great relief that One witnessed the mushroom cloud billowing over the city's ruins. Without hesitation he sent the signal for all remaining Cylon forces to withdraw. They had accomplished what they had come to do. The loss of ships was higher than he had anticipated, but the blow they had dealt to the heart of the Colonies was worth it. It should, he hoped, swing the balance of power back to the Cylon Empire, and give them the time to rebuild the advantage. Cylons would again control the war.
Little did he know that by this one act he had doomed the Cylon race to destruction.
*Caprican Defense Line*
*Caprican Orbit*
The Colonial Forces endured the emotional rollercoaster ride that followed the abrupt withdrawal of the Cylon Basestars. The euphoric high of defeating the oppressive 'toaster' forces was quickly followed by the crushing low as they gazed on the radioactive ruins of their capital city. Although each warrior continually told themselves that they had done everything that they could have, the little voice in the back of their minds haunted them with the understanding that even that might not have been enough.
While all available Raptors were dispatched on SAR duties around the ruins of Caprica City, it was a somber group of Vipers that returned to their battlestars. Or, in the case of the recently dispossessed, any Battlestar that had room to take them in. Major Simpson was operating on autopilot as he gathered his despondent pilots back to the barn. Most of his charges were stunned, almost catatonic in disbelief and self-denial. This just could not have happened! There must be some mistake.
Simpson, on the other hand, was quietly simmering in anger. Not only was he pissed at the Cylons, but he was just as pissed at himself. How could he! This was twice he had failed the civilians he had sworn to protect. Not only that but two of his teammates had depended on him to keep them safe. He should have seen something to keep it from happening again, but now he could only see their faces and mentally apologized for letting them down.
His mood had not really improved after landing on the Pegasus. The others barely noticed him as he made his way back to his office. His After Action report was the hardest he had ever written. Several times he had to back up and erase scathing sections where he had almost placed the entire defeat upon himself. He was so wrapped up in his grief and self-loathing that he missed the quiet step that had announced Cain's arrival.
From past experience, Cain expected Major Simpson to be hard at work, using it to avoid dealing with the aftermath of some very hard fought battles. But in this case it seemed that he took it more personally; like the loss of his two close friends in the ruins of Caprica city. As she watched she noticed how he would pause, shake his head, and vigorously scratch out a portion of his report. Sometimes the same section would be redone several times, and other times he'd crumple the paper up and start fresh as if he was dealing with his own inner demons.
After a couple of minutes, the Admiral gently cleared her throat, startling Simpson out of his inner turmoil.
"Admiral! I'm sorry I didn't see you there. Is there something I can do for you?"
"No," Cain replied, "But there is something you can do for yourself. Put down the stylus and get out of here. Officially, you are on leave. Right now. You need to clear your head. The loss of this battle and, more importantly, your friends, has emotionally compromised you." Nodding towards the paperwork, she continued. "It's so bad that you can't complete something in the past that you wouldn't have wasted more than 5 minutes with."
Bristling at her comments, Tim was about to argue when he stopped himself. All the bravado and bluster seemed to leak out of him like a punctured balloon.
"You're right, Admiral," he admitted. "Just let me finish this and I'll be on my way."
"No," Cain countered quietly. "Leave it alone. It will be here when you get back. I'm going to need you with your head on straight when things really get going."
*Delphi*
*One week later*
With Joe looking on, Simpson kneeled to brush dirt and leaves away from the simple grave marker for Sean and Jennifer. Like so many others around them, the graves were empty, sometimes not even a casket. The bomb had either vapourized or destroyed the bodies as to make them unrecoverable. That is, of course, if you wanted to ignore the residual radiation to search the rubble.
"I hope they were together, in the end," murmured Tim.
"I'm sure they were, Tim," offered Harris, "I'm sure they were."
It was common knowledge that the long range communications device had been left in the care of Sean and Jennifer. And now with their loss, any means of contacting Earth was gone. Simpson and Harris were there until Earth chose to initiate first contact.
"Rest in peace my friends," offered Simpson, "and let everyone we've lost along the way know we are doing fine."
"I will miss you two," added Joe. "Nothing will ever be the same. And if you happen to run into Oma along the way, could you please see if she would cut us a break or two? Thanks."
After a few more moments of respectful silence, the two of them began walking to the entrance way to allow others the privacy to mourn their losses.
"I had heard from Sean that you were moving out of Caprica City. Something about nothing there to really challenge your 'giant' intellect," chuckled Simpson.
"Yeah, well after a while the security gig was starting to wear kinda thin. All standing around and making sure nobody got into things they weren't supposed to. Do you know how exciting it is trying to keep six year olds away from the stuffed Daggit heads? Sheeesh!"
Tim couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's lament.
"Anyway, I found something much more challenging here in Delphi. You are now looking at the basic technician/researcher for the Delphi Museum of Kobolian History," announced Joe.
"Not bad, old friend. Not bad," commented Simpson. "I suspect there will be various artifacts and curios floating around that are stumping them but just might make some sense to you. All the best to you, Joe."
"And to you too, Tim," replied Harris. "From all of us, stay safe, hear?
*Area 51*
*Earth*
*Two days later*
Her chair creaked and groaned as General Samantha Carter leaned back. She had been reviewing design changes for the Floating Dock that was in orbit around Earth. It was working well for the existing ship sizes, but with larger designs coming down the pipeline, it was only a matter of time before General O'Neill would need more room for his 'toys'.
It took a while to secure the materials, but finally the PDA construction system was getting into full production. The highest priority right now were the satellites and in-system ships they needed to defend the growing number of Earth's colonies. It was good that the Goa'uld system lords had been given a solid trouncing, but the galaxy still has it's secrets both sublime and grotesque.
Her musings were abruptly interrupted as O'Neill barged into her office, a serious thundercloud floating overhead.
"Sam, I'm hoping that the new shipyard can produce faster than our current ones, 'cause Daniel did it to us again!"
"How the hell did that happen?! The last time I heard he'd missed his chance at Atlantis and hadn't been off the Earth for the past few months."
"Do you remember, a little while ago, when that woman, Vala Mal Doran I think her name is, tried to steal the Prometheus?," Jack chuckled humorlessly, "Well she returned recently with a tablet alluding to a possible trove of ancient artifacts. In the process of discovering this collection, she and Daniel activated an ancient long, long range communications device. To make a long story short, they've encountered an offshoot of Ascended Ancients who demand that we worship them or die."
"Only Daniel, I swear. Only Daniel!," muttered Sam. "Has there been any news about SG-13?"
"All the Asgard could say was there had been an attack on the Colonial capital city. Captains Jennifer Simmons and Sean Wirges were in the city and died as a result of a nuclear explosion. Simpson and Harris are still alive. Because of location markers placed in their bodies, the Asgard were able to locate and retrieve the remains of Simmons and Wirges. Because they were so deeply buried in the rubble, no one is likely to notice."
"Damn! What a waste," sighed Carter. "Is there any chance we could have them pull Simpson and Harris out?"
"I had a long and vigorous talk with the Prime Minister and General Hammond," grumbled O'Neill. "Contrary to what I believe, it is felt that Simpson's continued service in the fleet would help us in the long run. Besides, his unexplained disappearance would draw too much unwanted attention. So, he and Harris stay there for now."
"Mistake after mistake after mistake," growled Carter. "They should have pulled the team out as soon as they had completed their mission. Remembering what it was like to lose Daniel, I can only just imagine what they must feel losing two of their teammates, especially when those two were about to be married. That is, if the rumours were true?"
"Oh, it was truth alright. Captain Harris reported that Simpson had blatantly encouraged it, just before he and Simmons responded to their draft notices. I realize this beats the hell out of the 'non-frat' regulations, but I'm backing him up on this. As soon as the remains are decontaminated, I have orders in place to have them interred in a joint grave. I will never be accused of separating a husband and wife."
Her eyes were glistening, Sam asked in a quiet voice, "When will the funeral take place?"
"From what I've been told, two days from now. Every one from the SGC is planning to be there; at least the ones involved before disclosure. Family looks after one another."
*Delphi*
*Caprica*
*One Week Later*
Tim Simpson sat and gazed somberly out of his hotel window into the darkening evening sky. Placing his interlaced fingers at the back of his head, he leaned back and stretched, forcing the stiffening joints to pop and creak in complaint.
He was bored. He was depressed.
Admiral Cain had placed him on one month's leave, and he had no idea what to do with himself. Joe, at least, had thrown himself into his new job with the Delphi Museum. More to deal with his case of survivor's guilt Tim figured.
Tim had no such distraction.
The theatre in Tim's mind repeatedly played the battle over and over. From time to time, images from the encounter on Earth would splice themselves in, until it became one great mélange. Cylon Raiders shooting down Terran Airliners. Goa'uld Death Gliders being shot down by Colonial Vipers. This kept going on and on until the images of Caprica and San Francisco lying in ruins became so intermixed he couldn't tell one from the other.
'ENOUGH,' Tim mentally shouted at himself. 'This isn't getting me anywhere.'
Abruptly rising from his chair, Tim realized that staying here wasn't going to help his mental issues. He needed to get out, walk, breath the night air, do something to help him cope. Even, he finally thought, to hit a bar to quietly toast his fallen comrades. With purpose in his step, Tim quickly showered and dressed according to his dark mood, black slacks and dress shirt.
Not knowing the city, he was reminded of a bar that Joe had recommended; one that felt like home. Soon Tim found himself in a comfortable couch, drink in hand, soaking up the very 'homey' atmosphere. If he closed his eyes and shifted himself just so, he would swear he was back at O'Malley's, away from all this insanity and pain.
"Hey, Tim. Do you mind some company?"
Abruptly breaking from his quiet 'happy place', Simpson found himself looking into the very friendly eyes of someone he thought was far away.
"Sarah! What are you doing here? I thought you'd been deployed out along the border somewhere!"
"You kinda need a ship to be deployed," she gently chided. "The Triton went down during the battle over Caprica. I lost a lot of good friends that day. But then, to hear it from Joe, we both did."
"Yeah," sighed Tim, gesturing to the couch. "Instead of raising a happy toast, I'm here sipping one in quiet memory. It's strange how things can change so quickly in so little time. The funny thing is that of all the places Joe could have told me to go to, this place reminds me so much of home."
"I'd like to hear about your home," Sarah queried, as she sat down beside him. "What was it like there, your family, surroundings?"
"Right now it seems so far away," pondered Tim. "I left after a rather rough fight with my sister. The way things are, I'm not likely to be heading back any time soon. Besides, you're here now, dressed to kill, as it were," he commented, softly caressing her cheek. "What's say we give our mutual friends a proper farewell. Okay?"
It wasn't lost on Sarah that Tim hadn't fully answered her question. From what everyone had to say, Tim was an extremely private person. But seeing him in such a vulnerable state, she was willing to allow a temporary reprieve. For now, that is.
"Do you have any idea which ship you'll be assigned to?
"From what I've been told," muttered Sarah, darkly, "the admiralty has this 'great' recruiting scheme they want to do. And my family, the whole family mind you, is the focus of this public relations stunt to put a friendly face on the military."
"Friendly? I can appreciate the harassment Tigh is going through keeping the civilian media types in line. I have problems just keeping my Air Wing trained and operational without that sort of interference. Just the same though, gathering all the Adamas in one hull ought to cause Colonel Tigh to lose what few hairs he has left. I figured he'd had enough trouble on his hands with Starbuck alone."
Sarah's frown slowly melted into the impish grin that Tim found so endearing.
"Hmm… A bald Colonel Tigh. Now there is something I'd like to see…"
Tim and Sarah continued to enjoy time together over the following two weeks, enjoying the various sites and activities that Delphi had to offer. The level of comfort the two of them felt for one another only grew with time, drawing them closer and closer. By the end of the second week, it was clear to any observer that the relationship had grown far past that of a simple friendship.
Tim and Sarah were sharing a comfortable couch, watching the setting sun from Tim's hotel room. Sarah's head was resting on his shoulder. Tim's arm was firmly, almost possessively, around her. Both their leaves were to end in the next couple of days and the two of them wanted to enjoy this time to the fullest.
"We should get married," Sarah announced suddenly.
Tim paused for a moment before turning his gaze. Sarah's eyes were staring determinedly back at him.
"I'm not saying no," he slowly began, "but I think this could be a bad idea. Several reasons come to mind starting with Starbuck, Apollo, Zak, not to mention your father. Do you have any idea how they are going to react to this?"
Sarah shifted, settling herself in Tim's lap with her arms around his neck.
"Oh yes, I've been wondering. But at the same time this war has killed millions, with millions more to go before it ends. I don't want to spend my life knowing I had the man I loved but in the end let him go. I look into your eyes and I see mystery, pain. I want to spend the rest of my life finding out why!"
"We've only been together, on and off, for the past few months," responded Tim. "What makes you think that this is the right thing to do?"
"Simply because it feels so right, Tim." Sarah closing her eyes, rested her forehead on his. I know you're not big on religion. I don't think I've ever seen you go to Temple for that matter, but it's like they brought us together for some reason. If nothing else, I just don't want to let you go."
Holding her head gently in his hands, Tim looked deeply into her eyes.
"You do realize this is going to cause a whole host of problems," Tim sighed. "Knowing my luck, your father is going to come after me with a blunt rusty bayonet. I just hope he gives me a bit of a head start."
Mentally Simpson was in awe of how far things had gone. 'First Sean and Jennifer, and now I'm going native. I am not looking forward to the debrief General O'Neill is going to give me when I report in. Hell, how are Sarah and the others going to react when First Contact is initiated, and the truth finally comes out.'
"We're living in a time of War," continued Sarah. Leaning forward, she gently kissed his forehead. We could die tomorrow. So live for the moment. Come with me to the Temple of Aphrodite and let's get married."
"Carpé diem," murmured Tim, in a moment of déjà vu.
"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just a little something I heard somewhere. It's supposed to translate to 'Seize the day,'" commented Tim. "Okay then. Let's do it. But what are we going to do about your dad and the others?"
Sarah simply shrugged her shoulders.
"I really don't know. I figured I could hold off telling my dad until the Pegasus left, but after that is anyone's guess."
"Why do I get the feeling that this was going to happen whether or not I agreed to it?" Tim mused.
"That's because I marked you as mine from the moment we first met," she chuckled.
*Battlestar Pegasus*
'Thank God for the reprieve,' Simpson thought to himself.
He had not looked forward to the personal, albeit friendly, grilling from the Admiral when he returned to the Pegasus. Thankfully that wasn't the case as Cain still had another week of leave. Major Simpson took advantage of the down time to catch up with his paperwork. Locking the hatch, he dove into the work of sorting out the squadron assignments and training schedules.
As far as he knew, no one even had the inkling of his recent marriage. The only ones who could possibly find out were Cain and Belzen. She would be on leave for another week. Belzen would be a problem only if it posed a real threat to the safety of the ship. Tim hoped that with any luck at all the whole issue would just slip under the DRADIS. He should have realized that with Murphy on his side, the only luck he would have would be bad.
With assignment sheets plastered all over the walls, Tim was deep in thought when the hatch handle gently rattled. The following firm knock on the hatch door broke his concentration.
Disgruntled at the intrusion, the Major tossed his stylus on the table and shoved his chair back against the wall. Stalking to the hatch door, he unlocked it and quickly swung it open. Any maledictions he had intended for the offending crewman quickly caught in his throat as he came face to face with a bemused Admiral Cain.
"This is very unlike you, Major, keeping your door locked. Trying to get your paperwork completed before the next deployment?"
Simpson quietly strode back to his seat, paperwork in hand.
"Sorry about the door, Admiral," Simpson commented, shuffling some papers on his desk, "but I think I've finally been able to pin down the squadron assignments to both my and the pilot's satisfaction."
The lack of any ready response unnerved the Major. Slowly raising his head, he noticed a knowing look on her face.
"So," Cain casually commented, "Anything special while you were on leave?"
"Not that I was aware of," Simpson warily countered. "The Temple of Aphrodite had some sort of festival on the go, but nothing worth mentioning. Why do you ask?"
"It's funny you should mention Aphrodite," drawled the Admiral. "I noticed your personnel file had been updated recently."
'Oh crap!,' he thought to himself. 'She knows!'
The Admiral watched with growing concern as the blood seemed to just pour from the Major's face. Fear took a momentary foothold as Simpson mentally scrambled to figure a way out of this considerable pitfall.
"Hey, hey! Not to worry," the admiral rushed to assure him. "It's not like I'm about to toss you into THAT lion's den. Not yet at least," she finished with a grin.
With color slowly returning to his face, Simpson gave the Admiral a guarded look.
"Look, Simpson," she began. "I know how much you guard your personal life. But something special like this is something that should be shared amongst friends, even if your new bride just happens to be Adamas youngest!"
Simpson opened his mouth to speak, but Cain held up her hand to stop him.
"I know they've announced that the WHOLE Adama family is gathering together on the Galactica. Some gods-awful PR excuse for recruiting if you ask me. But the mission the Pegasus is about to depart on requires you to stay here with your head screwed on right. Do you think you can handle that, Major?"
"Yes, Ma'am!" Tim replied, confidently. "I know it's something I'll have to deal with, but handling anyone named Adama, right now, would not be beneficial to my continued good health. I'd probably do better dealing with the Cylons."
"Well then, you're getting your wish. Our next assignment is a search and destroy mission. There's a jump capable Cylon space station out there and we need to get rid of it. One major problem is the six basestars it has as protection detail, not to mention what else it might have as back up. Battle group 55 spotted it in sector 12 last month, but it jumped out before anything could be done to it.
"Okay then, Admiral. Let's go hunt ourselves a station!"
*Battlestar Galactica*
*Caprican Defense Line*
To say Colonel Saul Tigh was in a bad mood, was like saying a nuke was just a big firecracker.
In his opinion, civilians were the plague of the universe; Media civilians, doubly so.
The media crew filming the recruiting segment, were everywhere, sticking their noses and cameras into everything. While nothing ever seemed outside their purview, they never seemed to push past a certain point. Tigh grudgingly, in an unspoken agreement, accepted this apparent truce.
It was during one of the formal photo sessions that things finally came to a head.
The Adama family had been gathered in the main conference room for various photos and video clips when the lead reporter began asking some strangely pointed questions.
"Admiral Adama. Do you have all of your family here?," queried D'Anna Biers.
Sarah began to pale.
With a puzzled look on his face, the Admiral paused to scan and confirm all members were indeed present. When he replied, it was in a tone that left no doubt he was telling the truth.
"With the exception of my wife, who is presently on Caprica, yes all of my family is here. Why do you ask?"
D'Anna turned to Captain Adama with a sly look on her face.
"So. I gather you haven't told them the happy news, Captain Simpson?"
The silence was deafening as the whole Adama clan slowly turned to look at Sarah.
Starbuck was the first to break the silence.
"What?! You married Kage? When the FRAK did you manage to pull that off?!"
The Admiral took a long, pensive pause to look carefully at his daughter before he spoke. "Sarah," he rumbled, "what have you done?"
She knew that tone very well, having earned her father's disapproval on a number of previous occasions.
Staring Biers in the eye, Captain Simpson posed the obvious question. "So," she began, "how did you find out?"
Taking up the challenge, Biers stared right back.
"I make it a point of knowing the people I'm dealing with. A contact of mine in Fleet records noticed your file had recent changes and checked up on it. So, why isn't your husband here by your side?"
"For your information, he is presently deployed elsewhere. His presence and skills were required somewhere else rather than posing pretty for your cameras."
Before the seething, D'Anna Biers could get a word in edgewise, Sarah continued. "And before you rush off in a huff to complain to Admirals Corman and Nagala, remember this. This is the family you negotiated for in the first place. You asked for us, and you got us. Deal with it!"
Later, it was a very different meeting as the Adama family and close friends gathered in the Admiral's ready room. Leading the rest, Sarah almost instinctively found and seated herself in the only straight back chair facing her father's desk. The rest flowed in finding seats for themselves around the perimeter of the room, each keeping a careful eye on Sarah as if she had more surprises to spring on them.
"I've sat there often enough. Feels weird not to be there this time."
With an incredulous look on his face, Tigh quietly muttered, "Only you, Starbuck. Only you!"
Admiral William Adama blatantly ignored the background chatter. The once little girl, now grown woman, no longer attempted to study the imaginary dirt that covered her clothes. Now with her head erect, she stared as if challenging to make her change her mind.
"You know," he began in his soft, gravelly voice, "your mother wanted you to have a huge wedding with maids and ushers, flowers, the whole nine yards. And instead, off you go, running off to…, where was it?"
"The Temple of Aphrodite," offered Sarah.
"Aphrodite?! Gods! Your mother is going to have a fit! The Eros special, no doubt! NO! No! I don't need to know!," moaned the Admiral.
"It wasn't like that at all, Dad!," retorted Sarah. "I looked for and found him during my last two week leave. We spent the time taking in the sights and sounds of Delphi. I mean, it was amazing. Almost like I was seeing it again for the first time! In the end, it was all me. I forced the issue on Tim. If nothing else, Tim was a true gentleman, trying to get me to see and make sure I knew what I was doing. It only made me want him more and more."
"So, where is this 'True Gentleman' of yours? Afraid to face the music?"
If his orders were correct, he and the Pegasus should have left a couple of hours ago. He's it's CAG. Besides, to hear him say it, he'd rather take on a Cylon battle group with a spoon rather than have to face all of you. Sir."
Starbuck slapped a hand over her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle a sudden bark of laughter.
With a sheepish grin on his face, Colonel Tigh could only shake his head. "If he's Cain's CAG, then there isn't a hope in Hades that anyone will ever get near him. If anything, she can be a hard taskmaster, but she is very protective of her crew."
Apollo still felt a little put out. "How could you have done it without us there as witnesses?"
"Because, I didn't want a huge affair with all the hoopla. In the end, I got what I desired most, a man who loved me for me.
That seemed to say it all. Before anyone else could continue to rant, Zak spoke his piece.
"Let's just drop it, folks. What's done is done. I doubt there is anything we can really do to him without having issues of insubordination. The only ones here that out rank him are Dad and Unc…, sorry," he quickly amended, "Colonel Tigh."
"Well, Sarah," began the elder Adama. "It's going to be up to you to break the news to your mother. God's help Major Simpson when he gets back. I only cringe at what she will have in mind."
"I know," Sarah responded contritely.
"How long did you think you could have kept this hidden from us," grilled the Admiral. "All it would have taken was a quick check of your records to see the change."
"Obviously not long," countered Sarah. "Tim just need time to work out how he was going to approach any of you. I know he's an extremely private person, but deep inside he is committed to those he calls his friends and family. I know he will never do me wrong."
Admiral Adama took some time to mull this over in his mind before handing down his decision.
"As it is, the Pegasus is on a search and destroy mission, looking for a jump capable Cylon Station. How long this will take is anyone's guess. But when he returns, none of you are to give him any troubles about this surprise. He is now family. Do I make myself clear?"
Author's note: Carpé Diem – Latin – Seize the day.