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 7

Look who coming to Dinner

*Battle Star Valkyrie*

*Armistice Line*

*Sector 12*

Battle Group 73 were in the midst of final preparations for the first of many assaults that the Colonials were to make in Cylon space. Now, after all that the Colonies had suffered, the fight was finally being taken to the enemy. This particular fight was to reclaim the world of Djerba, a former resort world that had been taken early in the first Cylon war. And, if the Gods looked favourably on the Colonies, there would be many more added to the list.

The CIC was showing more than its usual brand of controlled chaos today. Colonel Simpson found himself having to pause or sidestep on numerous occasions just to keep from landing on his backside from the flurry of bustling Non-coms. Apologies were offered but usually faded out long before they could be completed.

"Officer of the Day," called out Simpson, as he scanned the maddening crowd.

"Over here, Sir," came a reply from the other side of the room.

"Fleet Status, Captain," Simpson queried as he approached.

"The fleet is as ready as it will ever be, Colonel," responded the Captain. "The only exceptions are a couple of support ships. They're effectively ready to go but claim that they have a couple of details they still have to work out."

"Wonderful," moaned the Colonel. "Don't tell me. They want to do another sacrifice, on top of the multitudes already performed, just to make today's outcome more favorable?"

"Something like that," came the chuckled reply.

"Then you can tell the ship's commander," gruffed Colonel Simpson, "that if he isn't ready by the time Commander Nash gives the word, his ship will be 'sacrificed' as a diversion so the rest of us can get a clear shot at the Cylons. Got it?"

"Copy that, Colonel!," laughed the Captain. "Copy that loud and clear."

"Everything ready to go, Colonel Simpson?"

"Commander!" replied a startled Simpson. "Yes, Sir!"

"But?"

Simpson groaned. "It's the captain of the Ares' Bane, sir. He wants to do one more sacrifice to ensure today's battle. You know I'm not against anyone's practices, but in a battle the less distractions you have the better it goes."

"I know," responded a grinning Nash, "but you have to realize that for some of us, this day has been a long time in coming. We figure its best to get all the help we can get."

"Understood, Commander," came the reply. "I only wish he'd done it earlier."

Reaching up to the overhead rack, Commander Nash pulled down the handset and selecting fleet-wide communications.

"All ships, this is Commander Nash. Set Condition One throughout the fleet. All Raptors to be prepared, all Vipers loaded and in the tubes, ready to launch. Weapons are to be armed with weapons free acknowledged after jump. The clock for FTL Jump is set to 20 minutes. Mark!"

While the intel provided by the scouting Raptors was only two days old, the Admiralty didn't want to take any chances on success. In addition to the five Battle Stars Nash had under his command, an additional two Zeus class Battlestars had been included. It had been assumed that the Commander was going to need all the help he could get. And at the same time, everyone was itching to see what this new class was capable of in battle field conditions.

In an impressive feat of navigation, the entire fleet jumped in-system almost as one. While Vipers and Raptors were literally thrown out of the ships, the CIC crew hurriedly scanned the system to identify targets of opportunity. Onboard weapons were quickly unlocked and turned to take aim on…..

"What in Zeus' name is that?," growled a frustrated Nash. "Did we mis-jump?"

"No, Commander," came the reply. "Sensors and star charts put us exactly where we're supposed to be. The planet Djerba is off the upper starboard beam."

"Then where in Hades did all this debris come from? Do we have ANY Cylon contacts?"

There was a momentary pause before a quiet voice responded. "I think that all the debris is what remains of the Cylon contacts."

"What are you talking about?! I want Vipers and Raptors to initiate an immediate sweep of the system. I damn well don't want to get caught with my pants down."

"Commander Nash? Colonel Simpson?," piped up the Comms Officer, "I'm getting a colonial style buoy signal in the middle of the debris, bearing 325 carom 48. The signal is rather garbled because of the background radiation. I'm doing my best to clear it up."

Colonel Simpson, consulting the DRADIS display, commented, "Have Raptor 909 investigate it. Approach with extreme caution. What ever did this to the Cylons, I really don't want to be next on the menu."

Holding his earphones tight to his head, the Comms officer muttered to himself as he tweaked the controls, trying to clear up how a Colonial message buoy made it this far from the colonies. Suddenly the mutterings stopped as if cut off while his eyes grew larger and larger.

Growing impatient, Nash finally blurted out, "Spit it out, man! What have you been able to get!"

"I don't know what triggered it, but the beacon signal has just been replaced by a recorded message. The language seems to be some sort of derivation of ancient Caprican, but … you … can … just…. " There was a pause as the officer clamped his head set firmly to his head. In a small voice, he continued. "Sirs, you are going to want to hear this for yourselves."

"Fine!," growled the Commander. "Put it on the overheads."

With a click and a sudden crash of static, a voice quickly filled the CIC.

"… it the most. Please remember, you are not alone."

'Strange,' Simpson silently mused, 'I'd swear that sounded like Dr. Jackson.'

There was a pause before the voice began again.

"Attention Colonial Forces."

"What you see before you are the remains of the Cylon Fleet that had been stationed in this system. They and the forces on the planet below have been neutralized. Consider it a 'helping hand' as you prepare for strikes even further into Cylon territory."

'Damn!' Simpson realized internally, 'It really IS Dr. Jackson!'

"We know of your struggles with the Cylons and have been helping you from the beginning of this war. The first time was a strike on a ship yard/fuel refinery three months after the opening attacks. It was successful enough that the Cylons halted their offensive. This gave you the opportunity to recover and take the fight back to them on a levelled playing field."

"We do realize that this war has not been without losses. Days before the opening salvoes fell on your colonies, the Cylons discovered and decimated a human populated world outside of your area of known space. Even though the society was early into its development, they were still destroyed for what they were and what Cylons thought they could become."

"In addition to this, a reconnaissance team of our was in Caprica city when it fell. Their purpose was to simply learn about your people and culture, see how we could approach you in peaceful first contact."

"Our absence during your struggles was not to be an indication that we think so little of you. Why we haven't taken on a more active roll is because we also have threats and obligations of our own. We will continue to help as we can, where we can, and when you need it the most."

"Please remember, you are not alone."

The universe seemed to stop as the entire bridge crew looked at each other in stunned silence. Some mouths opened and closed without a sound being made. The most frustrated were the Viper and Raptor pilots repeatedly asking for instructions but receiving silence in reply.

Colonel Simpson, hiding his own shock, took a moment to appraise the crew's response. Some were 'waking up' and dealing with the piling tasks at hand. Others, not being able to comprehend the curve ball that the universe had thrown them, began to shift into a catatonic state of being.

'Nice play, guys!' mused Simpson, sarcastically. 'This will either hide us even deeper undercover or paint the biggest bulls-eye the galaxy has ever seen.'

It took Commander Nash a moment longer to shake himself out of his daze. A glance at the over head DRADIS repeater showed the fleet in position and ready for action. Although the debris field obscured some of the systems details, it was abundantly clear that the Cylons were no longer a threat here.

"After Raptor 909 can confirm it is safe to handle," announced Nash, "I want the message buoy brought onboard and stored in the secure lock up in the rear of the Port flight pod. As of right now, I want a communications lock down on any details about this message buoy. Nothing, I repeat, nothing about this buoy is to leave the CIC. Do I make myself clear?!"

Acknowledging the flurry of 'Yes, sir's, Nash then turned his attention to the Colonel.

"Simpson, I need you to carry out the ground portion of this mission. I want the landing, surveying and construction to begin as quickly as possible. Thank the gods that we won't have to worry about losses this time 'round. Once you've initiated that process, take some Raptors and survey the damage to the Cylons. I want to know what hit them, how hard, and how fast. What ever you have to report, do it in person. For the time being the less people who know the better."

"Yes, Sir," responded Simpson. With a salute, he quickly made his way to the awaiting Raptor and the newest mystery in Colonial history.

Almost as if the others could feel the Commander's will, activity in the CIC rapidly returned to normal. The only common thought that ran through everyone's head was:

'What the Hades is going on, and who are these people?!'

*Picon Fleet HQ*

*Picon*

*Three Weeks Later*

To say that the message buoy retrieved by the Valkyrie was driving the Colonial Intelligence (CI) paranoid was greatly understating the obvious. Knowing that there were other unknown human worlds out there was cause for cautious enthusiasm. That one of these worlds was actively observing and assisting was reason for deep concern. But to have them able to insert a reconnaissance team unobserved and uninvited was the basis for the greatest nightmare scenario that CI could have possibly imagined.

The analysis of the message alone created two headaches. Trying to trace anyone's movements in Caprica quickly became a lost cause. For all intents and purposes, the records were lost beyond recovery. The more religious of the analysts agreed with the original Comm officer's assessment. Of course, it was confirmed the person was speaking 'Caprican', but the tone, the inflection, even some of the phrasings pointed toward a more Kobolian root than what was used today.

Untraceable teams? A modern language with ancient overtones? Who the Hades were these people?!

Although their observations and speculations had been sent back with the message buoy, Commander Nash found himself ordered to transfer command of the Djerba Forward Operations Base (FOB) and to return to Picon at best possible speed. What began in confusion swiftly became astonishment as they reached the planet. Flag ships from every active fleet the Colonies had were presently in orbit about the planet making it the most prized target the Cylons could ever hope for, and making it the greatest tactical mistake anyone could make during wartime. But the President had demanded it, and everyone responded.

The trip from ship to conference was brisk and uneventful. The skies around Picon were noticeably empty of any civilian traffic; this being ordered by martial decree. The conference took place in a subterranean hall many metres below the surface. In the centre of the room sat a table, a circular ring approximately 15 to 20 metres in diameter liberally populated by chairs, microphones and notepads. The open area in the middle contained the large monitors for displaying various images. A ring of lights illuminated the conference table while leaving the extreme edges cloaked in darkness. As each officer entered the room, a subordinate directed them to their assigned seat in a quick and efficient manner.

Many of the officers questioned their neighbors, wondering why this meeting was called for in the first place. Many rumors abounded, none fully substantiated. When Admiral Adama noticed as his son-in-law being escorted into the room to a different table, it seemed likely that the rumored events surrounding the Djerba operation may have more substance than any of the others. Only time would tell.

Personnel rose to their feet as the President and Fleet Admiral Nagala entered the room.

"Please, be seated," offered Adar.

With a permissive nod from the President, Nagala began the briefing.

"I realize that this is not the appropriate time or method to gather everyone together, but we need all the experienced input we can get for what is becoming a rather unusual turn of events. It is common knowledge that the Valkyrie and its Battle Group left four weeks ago to assault and set up an FOB in the Djerba system. Considering the potential losses we anticipated, two additional Zeus class War Stars were included as backup. The results were an exceptional success, but in the process we now know that there is another player in this war."

The Admiral paused for a moment to let the background whisperings to die down before he continued.

"When the Valkyrie and her Battle Group jumped in, all they found was a debris field orbiting the planet Djerba. Subsequent reconnaissance flights over the planet found that any and all planet based installations were similarly demolished. Thankfully this meant that we could claim the planet with absolutely no losses of ships and personnel."

But amongst the orbiting debris was a message buoy very similar to ones we employ." The central screens began displaying images for all to see. "Shortly after the fleet's arrival, the homing beacon signal put out by the buoy was replaced with the following message."

As the recorded message played itself out, there was a myriad of whispering, shushing, and murmurs that ran about the room. Battle hardened veterans of many campaigns sat impassionate, but with their eyes widening slightly as concern, worry, and the occasional wonder flickered across their faces.

Having already heard the message first hand, Colonel Simpson sat back to quietly observe the group's reaction. Until now he, like the others, had heard most of the myths and legends about worlds of humans living outside of the 12 Colonies of Man. In all cases these ideas were brushed aside as simply that: rumours, myths, and wild flights of fancy. But now to have one of those legends to be able to prove itself as fact, Tim was concerned how the Colonial mentality was going to be able to handle it.

"Do we know anything concrete about these people?" piped up a voice from the far side.

Nagala shook his head. "Nothing more than what we've heard in the recording."

"Have we been able to dig up any proof of this so-called 'team's' existence?"

A quiet, unadorned woman on the President's left spoke up in response.

"No, and that is what's pissing off the Intelligence community as a whole. Even with what we have, the chance of finding out is now slim to nil. Any Caprican records are either destroyed or buried under irradiated garbage. Good luck finding any sane individual willing to try to recover THAT and survive."

"Is there any chance this is a last-gasp Cylon trick or something to drive us so paranoid that we'd question each other's loyalty?"

Admiral Nagala turned to give Commander Nash a piercing stare.

"Commander, I think that you would be best to answer that question. You were there after all."

"I don't believe so," Nash began, glancing at the others in the room. "Considering the losses the Cylons have been suffering lately, they couldn't afford to lose the amount of ships and personnel that they did at Djerba. A rough calculation based on the amount of debris we found in the system placed the enemy fleet at about nine Basestars. That is almost double the number reported by the scouting Raptors two days prior. If nothing else, that tells me that they intended to keep this system."

"And at the same time, I need to point out another pertinent detail. The scouts we sent in left the system 48 hours before my Battle Group jumped in. Not only does this make for a very narrow window of opportunity, but the fire power required to inflict this amount of damage in that amount of time is far and above anything we or the Cylons have in our respective arsenals. The debris in orbit seems to be composed of entirely materials of Cylon origin, nothing else. If I had to hazard a guess, it was a fast, one-sided massacre. The Cylons didn't have a chance."

"So, are you saying that the entire operation was accomplished entirely through orbital bombardment?"

The Commander turned and gave Simpson a nudge.

"You were on the surface, Colonel Simpson. What's your opinion?"

Turning a glass of water in his hands, Simpson took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"During the recon and construction of the FOB," he began, "I had the opportunity to take a closer look at the planet-side carnage. From pole to pole, and all the way around the equator, not one Cylon installation was overlooked. As Commander Nash has already noted, this was nothing short of a massacre. As for it being entirely orbital in nature, not a chance. The accuracy and collateral strike damage inflicted was consistent with what you would see done by a precision fighter strike."

With a scrutinizing look, Admiral Adama queried, "What makes you think that fighters were used and not Capital ships?"

"The damage done was small and on target, with very little wastage on the side," replied Simpson. "If this had come from orbit the scoring would have been larger, and the collateral damage area around the target would have been bigger. No, this was a surgical strike done up close and personal."

There was a pause before Simpson continued.

"I didn't want to add this next part, only because how crazy it would sound. I am not able to classify the weapons used in this strike. The damage inflicted was above and beyond anything I've seen anywhere in the Colonies. Where there were 'intact' centurions to inspect," he air quoted, "the strikes literally melted through the armour and the interior superstructure. The ground around the targets was littered with globs and shards of glass. To me it was like a bizarre scene from recent sci-fi flick."

Although these people haven't said much about themselves," continued a shaky Admiral Nagala, "what they have had to say about our war is nothing less than astounding. When we finally opened up the buoy, we found two sets of documents. The first set of documents has seemingly given us the entire list of Cylon staging areas and the cold calculated jump coordinates to put us right on target."

Many heads snapped up at this tidbit of news. Gone were the weeks of searching, endangering crews for little or no results. This could bring the war to a close in almost no time!

"And the other set of documents, sir?"

Admiral Nagala nervously looked at Adar almost as if to ask permission. The President gave him a grudgingly weary nod of assent.

"The second set of documents were the most disturbing. As you can all imagine, the basic Centurion has been upgraded from the 'chrome toaster' that is the most familiar to us. Strength, endurance, flexibility, things we assumed would be upgraded. What we did not expect was the development of a whole new series of Cylon models. Simply put, they have made great strides in the area of cybernetics, creating 8 human form models. So very life like, that you would not realize you'd met one until you were told. Take a look for yourselves."

One after one, the images of the eight models were displayed on the central overhead screens. Gasps, groans, along with "Isn't that…" were interspersed with "Oh my gods…". The gathered people were stunned to see images, or in some cases close relatives, of individuals they knew or met on a daily basis.

"Gods!" muttered Cain. "I know some of these 'people'! Do you know how we're supposed to weed them out before we have a widespread panic on our hands?"

"CI was quick on the mark with this one," remarked Adar. "Over the past two weeks, very quiet raids were performed, rounding up the more high profile infiltrators. In another week or so, announcements will be released simultaneously on all 12 worlds of these Cylon models. I'm not going to be naïve enough to assume there will be no bloodshed, gods knows the losses we've had during the strike on Caprica city, but I hope enough will be brought in for interrogation. We need to find out as much as we can to end this war as quickly as possible."

"If there is any concern from any officers present at this meeting, let me assure you that everyone present is a loyal Colonial. Some of you have no idea about this, but for what it is worth, I'm sorry for the excessively intrusive search CI has had to make into each one's background. No doubt you'll be getting an earful from your respected spouses the next time you make contact. We felt it necessary, considering the shadowy intents this unknown player has shown, or not shown, at this point in time."

There was a considerable pause in the brief as the President and advisers gathered and sorted through their notes. The other officers around the conference table began a low muttering and whispering, trying to get a grasp of the surprises that had just been recently revealed. Partially listening to the commander beside him, Simpson's gaze was drawn to the displays overhead, studying the images, the details, anything that would help him.

On each page, the model was displayed in a mug-style shot, front and side, with a quick description of personality and assumed purpose. Scanning further down the page, Simpson noted a sort of smudge at the bottom. A quick scan of the other 'bio's' provided a similar smudge at the bottom of those pages as well. Simpson moved forward in his seat to get a better view.

Commander Nash, noticing the change in his subordinate's concentration, piped up.

"What's up, Simpson? I've seen that look in your eye before. What are we missing here?"

"I don't know, Sir. But at the bottom of each page is a similar smudge, Mark, what ever you want to call it. I can't quite make it out, but it looks vaguely familiar. Is there any way of getting it enlarged?"

"Mr. President?" called out Nash.

"Yes, Commander Nash?"

"Is there any way of enlarging the bottoms of the first two pages? There is something there that isn't clearly visible."

The CI woman responded,"I assure you, Commander; the pages have been carefully analyzed. Any information that could be extracted has been."

"Would it hurt just to let the rest of us have a look?"

With the sigh of a parent humoring a difficult child, the woman made the adjustments. The difference was startling to Simpson.

"I don't believe it. Joe is not going to let me live this down." he quietly muttered to himself, settling back in his seat. "Earth."

Nash's head snapped around, almost causing him whiplash.

"Earth?" he commented out loud. "What are you talking about? This isn't the time for any cultist flights of fancy here."

Simpson was suddenly aware of the silence. Looking down to the people around him, he noticed he had everyone's undivided attention. Taking an audible swallow, he responded.

"It may be nothing, but the smudge at the bottom of each of these pages is actually a symbol I've seen before. During my leave, after returning on the Pegasus, I had gone to pay my respects to friends I had lost in Caprica City. While there, I ran into one friend that had survived and was then working at the Delphi museum. He and his girlfriend had assisted each other while working on interrelated artefacts and prophecies. One of the prophecies included a series of strange symbols, this being one. There was a reference to this being the directions to earth."

"Earth?" piped up one of the more pragmatic admirals. "What a load of crap. And I expect you'll say that the Lords will shortly come down and solve all of our problems, right?"

"Nash. Are you sure this man is mentally stable? After all, that he's been through?"

Simpson, in a moment of fury, stood up to address the others.

"I take great offence to that remark sirs. Just because I'm willing to keep my eyes open to what is around me doesn't mean I'm unstable. The documents in question are available for you to see if you wish. What is so special is that they are a part of a hermetically sealed collection that had survived since the period of the exodus from Kobol. And because of their age, they are opened only on rare occasions. It was only chance that I was there when Joe and Susan happened to pull them out to do research of their own."

Dropping into his seat, Simpson offered a parting shot.

"Everyday there's something new to know, people. And in combat, knowing is half the battle."

Offering a commanding stare around the table, Simpson noticed an accepting smirk from both Admirals Cain and Adama. The overall arrogance at the meeting had been building far too long, and it was the simple Colonel's observations that had knocked that arrogance down a peg. It was a sheepish Adar who cleared his throat.

"Clearly taken and understood, Colonel Simpson. I'll make sure that a team is sent to the museum to see if there is any other valid information that can be gleaned from those older documents. Is there anything else we should know before going in?"

"Just take your time, sir. The documents are ancient and in very delicate condition. Your contacts will be Joe Harris and Susan Karahalios. They are the one's mostly in charge of that section of the archives. I'm going to have to prepare a note for Joe, otherwise he'll think it's an invasion."

"It's nice to see we can finally name our 'friends,'" remarked Admiral Corman, "but is there any reason they can't just jump in and lay waste to these machines, Simpson?"

"Well," Simpson drawled, "I can think of two very apparent ones."

"And they are…"

"Firstly, they claim that they have their own enemies and obligations."

"That's nice. And how does that apply to us?"

"I'm not saying these people are warlike, but we all know how conflict can speed up the development of technology. Based on the damage inflicted on the Cylons, I can only imagine that for someone to have developed weapons, ships, computing power to this level indicates someone who has endured considerable conflict. The real question I would ask is: if they are able to field this level of technology, how powerful and dangerous are their enemies?"

There was a mutually unspoken nod of realization as Tim's assessment as universally agreed upon.

Breaking the silence, Nagala struggled to finish the briefing.

"At present, our fleet is comprised of 275 Battlestars, most of which are older ones reactivated from the mothball fleet. We are hoping to bring that past 300 in the very near future. Based on both, the information outlined in these documents and information we can gain from the captured Cylons, we are planning a single series of surgical strikes at each of the staging areas to take place simultaneously. With this we would end this war and remove the threat of the Cylons completely."

"Copies of the documents concerning the human form Cylons will be downloaded to the databases on each of your ships. This information is to be available to the Commander and XO until otherwise advised. Understood?"

"With respect to the Monster station the Cylons have, is there any further intel as to its location?," queried Commander Nash.

"The Monster Station, as you call it, we now know as the Home Colony of the Cylons. As to its location, we've not been able to come up with anything concrete at this point in time. The word is that it is always moving, but tends to keep to the core of their home territory. Just the same, though, when you get out there, keep a sharp eye open for it. The plan so far is that 100 Battlestars will be kept back to defend the Colonies. We're hoping that should be one Hades of a deterrent for any Cylons with ideas of retribution."

The rest of the meeting was boringly comprised of other housekeeping such as security and ongoing requests for resupply and repairs. Afterward, as Simpson stood around waiting while Commander Nash conferred with Admiral Nagala, he was approached by Admiral Adama.

"Colonel."

"Admiral. Something I can do for you?"

"Do you think I could wrangle you away from here for an hour?"

Tim chuckled, placing his forearm behind his back. "Twist my arm, sir. PLEASE twist my arm."

*Scorpion Shipyard*

*Battlestar Pegasus*

*Four Months Later*

It was a weary Colonel Simpson that occupied the co-pilot seat of the Raptor. He quietly pondered recent events, acknowledging that the past several months had been a complete whirlwind of activity both locally and for the colonies as a whole.

The weeding out of the Cylon infiltrators was done with much less public panic than what was first assumed. Baltar, for all of his posturing and arrogance, was the most humiliated of all. It was a great embarrassment to realize how close his womanising behaviour had come to manipulate him into orchestrating the fall of the Colonies. It was an unexpected show of humility that he accepted the military's conditions to be able to continue with his work in R&D.

Joe was initially rattled by the CI's invasion of the archives. He assumed that everything had finally hit the fan until he was passed Simpson's message. Simpson received a reply stating that he was a cruel man and that he would get his some day soon.

Records that had rarely seen the light of day since the Colonies' exodus from Kobol were now being carefully examined for anything that could explain their new benefactors. While the supposed existence of Earth was readily confirmed, there was nothing more that anyone could divine from the records except a series of six symbols. Their meaning and purpose were completely unknown as no other relics or artefacts had anything vaguely similar, leaving the researchers with more questions than answers.

As they approached the Pegasus, Simpson could clearly notice improvements over the older Battlestar; increased armour, improved manoeuvrability being just the most apparent. Like with the Valkyrie, Colonel Simpson decided to take a visual inspection of the ship, to appreciated her features for what they were rather than what was said on paper. During the slow run along the upper port side and the lower starboard side, he noticed details that had not been included in the original briefing; something he would need to take up with the Admiral when he landed.

The inspection brought up memories, some good and some bad. Unlike with the Pegasus, parting from Commander Nash had been neither easy nor pleasant. Between repeated cajoling and almost outright attempts at bribery for him to stay, the last month on the Valkyrie was extremely emotional. Between the threats of desertion and transfer requests, it was impressive the amount of loyalty he had gained from both the officers and enlisted men serving under him. Leaving had almost been like abandoning those who had began to rely on him for their continued well-being.

His moment of introspection was interrupted by the pilot's reply, "Raptor 425 on an inspection fly-by ordered by Colonel Simpson." In an attempt to forestall any problems for the pilot, Simpson donned the spare headset.

"Pegasus Control, this is Colonel Simpson. Raptor 425 will be landing in the next 5 to 10 minutes. I needed to do a 'walk around' before I came on board."

"Pegasus Control copies that, Colonel. We hope the Lady meets with your approval."

"That she does, Control. That she does. Simpson out."

Overhearing the communications with the inbound Raptor, Cain slightly shook her head in amusement. 'You could never take the pilot out of that man,' she thought to herself. But she wouldn't have it any other way. She could afford Simpson's little idiosyncrasies as the man's attention to detail had benefited the ship on a number of occasions. Before returning to the tasks at hand, Admiral Cain informed the deck crew to have Simpson report to the CIC as soon as he landed.

The first thing Simpson noticed on final approach was the lack of pot holes littering the flight deck, minimal scrapes, and scuffs. "So new that it's not even out of warrantee," muttered Simpson.

Not wanting to waste any time, it seemed like minutes later that Simpson entered the CIC. Noticing Cain at the tactical plotting table, Simpson approached and offered her a proper salute.

"Colonel Simpson reporting as ordered, Ma'am."

"Welcome back, Colonel. It's good to see you again."

Turning to the right, Admiral Cain called out, "Officer of the Deck? You have the Conn. I will be in my ready room with the Colonel."

"Understood, Ma'am," replied the Captain.

"Follow me, Colonel," Cain commented.

"It good to see you again, Tim," began Cain, as the two officers entered her ready room. "How was your tour on the Valkyrie?"

"On the whole, it was a good experience," Simpson replied, shaking his head, "But then, you knew I was being brought back to Pegasus. Right?"

"Very good, Colonel," replied Cain. "With all the changes going on, I needed you to know how to handle the position of XO. You sure as Hades weren't going to get the experience here, what with all the construction yet to be completed."

"So, instead of letting me go stale here in dry dock," mused Simpson, "you had Nash do the dirty work teaching me how to be an XO. Hands-on."

Cain nodded.

"Yes. With Belzen being made the commander of his own ship and Shaw being assigned as his XO, you were only one of the senior officers left that I could trust to take the XO position. But with your reluctance to advance, I needed you to gain the experience you needed to fill the position. Commander Nash was hesitant in the beginning, but I heard he quickly found you indispensable."

"Indispensable?," scoffed Tim. "It almost felt like an act of treason trying to leave that ship!"

"That's what Admiral Nagala warned me about," admitted Cain. "You left a hell of an impression behind you, Colonel. A hell of a GOOD impression. What I saw during the conference at Picon only confirmed my suspicions."

"Well, for all the good it did," replied Simpson, "I'm waiting for it to bite me in the backside."

"We'll see," commented Cain, thoughtfully.

"So how is the shakedown cruise going so far, Admiral?"

Cain paused before answering.

"It going well, so far. We're running into some major problems with the new FTL and sub-light drives. Given the fact the design is based on the technology we pulled from the Cylon database, I guess we're doing okay."

"Wait a minute!," responded Simpson. "New tech?! As in from the database we recovered from Djerba?"

"You got it in one, Colonel. This ship is a flying test bed for the intended upgrades we have planned for the fleet."

Simpson muttered some very inventive evil curses under his breath.

"It has always been my belief that this is not the best way to approach to improvements , Admiral. Too many untested systems in one ship at one time is not a good thing. Best case scenario, If something goes wrong, we could be in for a very long walk back. Worse case scenario, if a number of things go wrong, there may be nothing to walk back from."

"Kiss. Kiss. Why don't more people follow it," Tim nervously muttered to himself?

"EXCUSE ME, Colonel?," remarked a startled Admiral Cain.

"No, no. Not you, Admiral," responded a sheepish Simpson. "KISS is a philosophy I tend to follow. It's the reason why many of my plans work so well. I always try to remember K.I.S.S. Keep It Simple, Stupid."

"Okay, then," said a mollified Cain. "But at the same time, I can understand it. Simple works. Something I"ll have to remember from time to time."

Before any thing else could be said, the office door opens admitting an attractive woman Simpson recognized as being from the Technical Upgrades office.

"Oh! Sorry, Helena. Is this a bad time?"

"Colonel Simpson, I would like to introduce Gina Morris from the Upgrade crew. Gina, this is Colonel Simpson, my new XO. And no, Gina, this is not a bad time. The Colonel and I were bringing each other up to date on various points of our activities."

Looking at Cain out of the corner of his eye, Simpson raised an eyebrow. "Something new, Admiral?" he smirked.

"Not one word from you, Tim," Helena growled, looking with her patented evil stare, "Not one word. Or, I swear by the gods, I'll have your wife, and Starbuck transferred over so fast, it'll make your head spin. From what Admiral Adama says, they KNOW how to keep you in line.

Seeing the Admiral with a gentle pink blush over her face, Tim just sat there with a knowing smile on his face and his hands up in surrender.

"I didn't see anything wrong, Ma'am. In fact, I'm happy for you. As far as I'm concerned, it's a private affair, with absolutely nothing to do with me."

Turning to Gina, Tim continued.

"Miss Morris, it has been a pleasure meeting you. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around from time to time."

Executing a textbook withdrawal, Simpson slipped from the ready room and made his way back to the CIC.

Making the most of his time, Simpson spent the rest of his shift familiarizing himself with the ship's layout and details. Remembering his earlier discussion with the Admiral, Simpson cringed as he noticed more and more of the 'Next Generation' improvements the designers had added to the Pegasus. He only hoped that they wouldn't end up biting the crew in the backside.

*Battlestar Pegasus*

*In mid-system of Helios Alpha*

*One Month Later*

The Pegasus was completing the final leg of her Shakedown Cruise with all onboard systems proving themselves better than the XO had originally believed. To have built a Battlestar with so many untested systems was folly. To have done so during wartime was just begging for the unmerciful attentions of Até herself.

Simpson thought back to the days before disclosure when the Prometheus, the first of the Earth fleet, would provide a never fail to provide an unending stream of issues. At times there seemed to be an ongoing betting pool what the next problem would be. The, then Colonel Carter, seemed beside herself as she and her army of technicians battled to solve one problem after another. Simpson just prayed that this would not be the case for the Pegasus.

To most of the surviving warriors, the War had taken on a different look and feel. The once oppressive Cylons were now withdrawn and defensive. It was almost as if they were building up their forces for one last big hurrah. But then again, no one was sure of even that. For the time being, they could only keep a vigilant watch on the DRADIS screen, hoping and wondering when this war would end.

Colonel Simpson was present in the CIC, keeping the 'Afternoon' watch, when the Admiral made her appearance. A quick glance at the room's clock confirmed that she was early for her shift, usually meaning something was up.

"Admiral. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, Colonel," Cain assured him. "I'm here just to get an update on the ship's status. Is everything ready to go?"

"Almost, Admiral. All ships are present and accounted for," replied Simpson. "It's just that the late arrivals are jockeying themselves into position. At this rate we should be ready to jump within the hour."

Cain looked on with a small smile on her face. "Are you ready to get back in the fight, Colonel?"

"A little bit, Admiral," smirked Simpson, "but also just a little bit hesitant. The last time I hit the front, the front hit back with one hell of a surprise. I'm not sure anyone would care for another one just yet."

"Yes, the message buoy from Earth," commented Cain, thoughtfully. "I'm really wondering what their whole game plan is. Why don't they show themselves instead of all these 'cloak and dagger' operations of theirs?"

"We just have no idea what it has been like for them all this time," Simpson commented after a thoughtful pause. "It's been thousands of years since they left, and who knows what problems they may have encountered. Who knows, maybe it's that they have had to travel a radically different path than what we have. We'll never know until we meet face to face."

Earth Defence Forces Headquarters

Washington, DC

General O'Neill was looking over reports with a bitter sweet smile on his face. The Ori forces had finally been defeated, but at a cost. They had lost 15 of the 50 Prometheus class cruisers they had been using for local defence. It had been a gamble in the first place, but this clearly showed that even armed with the advanced technology, the Prometheus was simply outclassed by anything that was floating out there these days. Somehow they would have to speed up production of the newer classes to ensure that the other threats out there wouldn't just walk all over them.

Hearing footsteps in the outer office, O'Neill raised his head in time to see General Samantha Carter stride in. The look on her face spoke of problems. Not Earth ending, thankfully, but problems just the same.

"What's wrong, Sam?"

"I know we've got a policy of keeping the public informed," she replied, dropping a newspaper on his desk, "but I think we have a leak somewhere."

At first glance, everything seemed okay. The headlines and contents looked to be what the PR people had issued in the last news release. Jack, puzzled, looked back up at Carter.

"It looks okay to me. What's wrong?"

"Check the small article on the bottom right of the front page."

Gazing down, the breath seemed to catch in his throat as he read the special mention. In a small, one column article, there was announcement that the UEF had decided on placing Admiral Timothy Simpson as the Commanding Officer of the UEF Fifth Fleet. Below an earlier military photo was also a brief biography that included, of all things, that he was presently on a deep cover assignment within some place known as the 12 Colonies of Kobol.

With a cold granite look in his eyes, he stabbed at the intercom on his desk.

"Janice, I want you to contact all military leaders on the planet right now! There will be a meeting here in the next 30 minutes, no exceptions. Anyone trying to beg off will be transported in regardless of their state of dress, or how delicate a position they're in."

"What the hell….," he muttered to himself.

"Jack?" she said, stepping back in defense. "I wasn't aware we were making Tim an Admiral."

"That's because no one was supposed to know," growled O'Neill. "Right now, we are assuming he has survived the war simply on the basis of how good he was against Anubis, and how well he'd survived up to the last check in they had made. The Asgard only detected two markers in the Caprica City debris. We can only assume the other two are still alive."

"Simpson was being chosen based on the fact that he is the only one with any usable understanding of space combat. This war with the Cylons is honing that with experience we are going to need to train our forces into something that can defend us. After a lengthy discussion with Admiral Cole, it seemed that Simpson would be the natural choice, as soon as we could extract him from the Colonies."

"It's kinda ironic, don't you think, Sam? The team's original orders were to avoid contact with the Colonial Military. Instead they get caught up in the thick of things mixing it up with the very people they were told to avoid. And in the process they gain the experience and knowledge about skills we were going to need the most. Call it fate, karma, or that someone out there is really looking after our backsides."

"After our losses with Anubis, the Ori and ongoing encounters with the Wraith, we've lost more experienced pilots and commanders than what we can afford. Sure we can field the ships and personnel, but most of them are still green as grass, and have no more effect than simple cannon fodder. We need people like Simpson to help rebuild and retrain those people into something more effective."

Carter paused a moment before speaking. "So if this is the case, why keep his name off the list in the first place? Why not make any mention of his present status?"

"Because we are stretched damned thin as it is, Sam," O'Neill groaned, as he tilted back in his chair. "Because our present adversaries seem to be under control, the public might get it in their minds that we need to help our poor, beleaguered cousins. And right now we can't commit anything substantial to assist them without incurring greater costs to our own forces. 'Green', remember?"

"And, the general consensus is that until their war is done and finished, we cannot afford to distract them with something as silly as a first contact scenario while the Cylons are still a threat. Everyone in the tactical staff agree that would be the most disastrous outcome."

"And so," began a pondering Sam Carter, "just like before, the cycle begins again. The public cries out to help the Colonials, not realising that we're not quite finished with the problems of our own, let alone haven't got the ships to spare for an operation of that size. The ultimate in Catch-22 leaving us as the butt of the Galaxies newest joke."

Looking O'Neill in the eye, she continued with her thoughts.

"I realise that we need the ships but what the public expects us to accomplish is impossible. We can hardly hold Atlantis and Asura as it is, and it's only because of the drones. It's amazing that we haven't lost both systems to Wraith already, but with the way things are going, it's only a matter of time."

"I've done everything I can to speed up production, but it still takes several months just to complete an X-305, 6, or 7. The biggest problem is the size and complexity of the components involved. Sure it's easy and quick to build an X-304, but against the Wraith, it's under powered and under armed. Somewhere we're going to have to strike a balance between what we can have and what we're going to need."

"Even with the increased production speed that you have provided," Jack sighed, "our problem right now is that we only have a grand total of 150 ships in our fleet. That includes everything from the venerable X-303 to the X-307 that launched just yesterday. Thanks to the Council's oh-so wise interference, ship construction is a middle priority with Orbital Defence platforms being top of the list to protect Earth, Pegasus, and any of the other colonies we may have out there. At this rate, it will be years before the fleet will be at a size to be taken seriously."

"So," replied Carter, "are you telling me to reconfigure that empty 307 bay for more 304's?"

"No, lay the keel for the next 307. We're going to need something with some solid hitting power to back up what we already have to deal with the Wraith. The 304's have their place but we'll still need their big brothers in the fight right along side them."

"I can only hope to God that Simpson is still alive," O'Neill muttered wearily. "That so called 'Rain of Death' didn't just rob us of our loved ones, it robbed us of talented military personnel that could have been of great help to us right now. I admire Thor for going out on a limb for us, but even all the high tech isn't worth spit if you don't have the people to use it effectively. I know we need to retrieve Simpson, but we'll have to do it at a time that is the least disruptive to the Colonies. And as painfully as this may sound, we're going to have to do with what we've got until that opportunity presents itself."

Office of the Prime Minister

Brussels, Belgium

Two Days Later

Prime Minister Rose Tyler was not a happy camper. Strike that, she was pissed. Because of the leak to the paper, the media was having a feeding frenzy trying to flesh out this mystery Admiral. When the paper that published the leak was approached, they immediately clammed up claiming something about anonymity of their sources. That tune quickly changed when the military lawyers advised them about potential treason charges for releasing secure information during a wartime operation.

Information was offered, provided, and in some cases poured out most willingly to avoid the potential consequences. The only problem was that everyone had the same story; the page left the editor's computer with all of the PR approved information, but had somehow been altered by the time the printer mounted the plates on the printing presses. Absolutely no one had any idea how or why the changes had been made.

The meeting of the UEF High Command was tense and nervous. It was made all the more intimidating with the calm, icy stare that Tyler laid on the officers, one by one.

"Now People! Do we have ANY idea who or how this was done?"

"Not at this time, Madame Prime Minister," admitted Admiral Cole. "But rest assured that when we find out, and we will, those involved will pay dearly for this."

"And the political and tactical fallout so far?"

"On a morale level, the public seems to feel safer 'knowing' we have the ability to keep the world safe. Logistically, it's a different story."

"We've had to re-think our planning and allocation of resources. The Fifth Fleet was supposed to be in quiet reserve, being built up slowly as the assets became available. Now with the fleet squarely in the public eye, every one assumes that it is a fully operational unit just waiting to do its part. In reality, we're having to scramble to redirect any spare ships that were earmarked for the other fleets; all for the purpose of giving the Fifth Fleet the appearance of being ready."

"The public are also responding just as they did with the other leaks," the Intelligence member commented. "Already we've been hearing of whispers wondering when we'll get off our backsides and help these poor people. Apparently Admiral Simpson is admired for at least doing his part 'over there', while back here some people are asking the question, 'Why aren't we?' "

"Is there any way we can offer any assistance?," queried Minister Hammond. "A couple of missions here and there won't seem like much, but it might put us in a stronger position when the time comes to open talks with the Colonials. It might even ameliorate the situation when they realize that we've placed 'spies' among them? I know personally that I would question their intentions if I found one of their spies had made his way up in our military."

Admiral Cole shook his head regretfully.

"As much as I would like to, Minister, I really don't think that would work right now. Yes, the BC-307 Hood has been working through its shakedown tour and the Bismarck was just launched, but in both cases the crews are green and inexperienced. In battle, that is effectively sending a valuable ship out on a suicide mission with no value gained from the loss."

"And nothing is being done to change this?!," asked a stunned PM.

"We're in the process of taking a page out of the US Naval manual, so to say," commented Indian General Rajive. "Back during the Vietnam war, the US instituted the Naval Fighter Weapons School to relearn dogfighting for the pilots."

"Don't tell me," groaned O'Neill. "Top Gun?"

"Please don't shoot me, but yes. Top Gun. The big difference is that multiple schools are being set up for all aspects of operations, from the bridge all the way down to engineering. We're training the best initially and working our way down the list, hoping that by the time we hit the bottom, much of what has been taught will have filtered through to the others. Our only limitation is the qualified personnel we have to teach them."

"And I assume that Admiral Simpson is one of those qualified to teach, right?," PM Tyler asked. "So what is keeping us from simply going in, finding him, beaming him out and being on our way?"

"Not just the time and inconvenience to locate him, Ma'am, but the potential upheaval in the Colonial's Campaign against the Cylons," responded General O'Neill. "Try to imagine that you're fighting for your life against a known enemy in front of you, only to find out an unknown and unexpected enemy about to strike from behind. It's unsettling, demoralizing, and something you do not recover from too readily."

"I was discussing this earlier with General Carter, Ma'am. Simpson, if he is still alive, is in there for the duration. All we can possibly do is guerilla strikes to aid them as best we can. The best time to get Simpson out is when all is said and done, and not a moment sooner."

"I see," muttered Tyler. Turning in her seat, she faced the lone diplomat at the meeting. "Your input, Mr. Woolsey?"

"No matter how you play this," Woolsey replied slowly, "this has all the makings of a nightmare. I agree removing Admiral Simpson right now would be disastrous. At the same time, having the Colonials find out one of their own is a 'spy' is not going to curry favours from them any time soon. They might think we were in it to gather technology for our own benefits at their expense."

"But on the other hand, the sacrifices Simpson and his team have made on the Colonial's behalf might look more favourably on us in the long run. Especially if we were to 'sweeten the pot' so to say. The technology they possess is somewhat antiquated in comparison to what we commonly use. If we were to offer plans, schematics, or hints to things they would have accomplished on their own in, say, the next decade or so, it might soften the blow when they fully realize what is going on."

"In other words," commented Tyler, "offer them just enough but not so much that they would become a danger to themselves and anyone around them?"

"Like teaching a kid how to build a slingshot, but not a P-90?," commented Carter.

"Exactly," replied Woolsey. "Enough to help defend, without giving them more than what we think they can handle for now."

"The nice thing about this," interjected General O'Neill, "is that the Colonials final assault on the Cylon home world won't take place for another few months. This should give us the time we need to bring both the Bismarck and the Hood up to a level of readiness to assist them effectively. With us using those two to soften the target up, it should be a piece of cake. Can anyone think of any snags we might run into?"

Richard Woolsey looked over at General Carter.

"General Carter, I was informed that you had made some overall design changes with the new BC-307's. What were they, may I ask?"

"Well, because of our present lack of support ships, I had to make them multitasking, and self… support… Oh, Crap!"

"I thought so," commented Woolsey. "Something like the Colonial Battlestars, maybe?"

"Very much so," responded Carter. "Close enough that they will see the similarity. In my defence, I used the overall design because of its robustness and general survivability in combat. I really didn't mean to 'plagiarizer' anything so drastically. Even some of the crews have taken to calling them 'Battlestars'."

"We can only hope," Woolsey said with a chuckle, "that they consider it the ultimate in compliments."

"Alright people," interrupted PM Rose Tyler. "Be it as it may, the public wants us to offer help to the Colonials when they assault the Cylon Home world. I don't care if all we can do is to hit-and-run the Cylons, I want the Colonials know that we were there helping where we could. What I don't want is another society turning their guns on us because they feel we owe them for some reason. Do I make myself clear?"

"I believe," responded General O'Neill," I answer for the others, Madame Prime Minister, when I say, 'We understand and we will make it happen one way or another'."