SG13 The Cylon War

by ShadowXV

What happens when Earth is informed about a group of unknown humans by the Asgard and Earth with some help sneaks in an SG team. I got a new beta we are currently going through all chapters.

10. War is Hell Politics Are Worse

Hello Everyone sorry it took so long, but there was a lot of work done to this chapter. Pride and I have work on things for a bit on this chapter, and it took some time getting some of the things right. I do hope to have the next chapter up faster, but no promises Politics are evil to deal with in any story. Well on with the story flames will be used to cook dinner.

SG-13 The Cylon War

Chapter 10

War is Hell. Politics are Worse

Presidential Office

Delphi, Caprica

It had taken time, but the original ceremony of reunification for the 13 tribes had finally been found. It had taken the researchers at the Delphi Museum the better part of two weeks, sifting through mounds of historical documents to uncover it. But now having read through it for the fifth (or was it the seventh) time, Adar was beginning to wonder if they should amend or even completely rewrite the archaic process. Not only were some of the rituals questionable to begin with, there were passages that none of the researchers could understand let alone translate. Adar only wished the Earthers were there. Maybe they could shed some insight on the documents that had laid unseen for centuries..

But for hundreds of years the thirteenth tribe was considered a myth, something to be talked around a campfire or over a friendly coffee. Everyone had an opinion, but willingly admitted that it was all a childish fantasy. Just something to fill the empty time. Unfortunately, ever since Simpson and Harris' departure, there hadn't been any ongoing signs of the Earther's presence. Nor was there any indication that they were on their way back. The lords only knew if the Earthers were going to keep this appointment with destiny.

As with any conspiracy/fantasy, there were self-pronounced experts claiming to have the inside track on what was really going on. Some of the 'half-baked' theories being expounded were fodder for the grocery store tabloids, along with the occasional claim of someone having Zeus' love child. That rapidly changed as clips from various gun camera footage showing strange ships dealing death to the Cylons, were leaked from the military archives. Once again the old arguments were pulled out and dusted off and re-examined with respect to the new evidence that others from Kobol might have also survived. But once the video clips from the box had been released to the public media, they and the leaked camera footage from the war took the Colonies by storm.

As a result, security was at the highest it had ever been. Two-thirds of the Colonial fleet had been posted in the Helios Alpha system, with three whole battle groups ensuring the security of Caprica itself. Not wanting the rest of the system to feel neglected, a circulating web of picket ships had been arranged along the outer reaches. If nothing else, it was hoped that the display of martial might would reassure the Earth delegation it was best for all that they returned under the Colonial banner.

It was with a wearied sigh that Adar leaned back in his chair. With what had already come to pass, he was pondering for a moment all of the possible changes that could take place over the following days.

Colonial Ship Charybdis

Central Picket posting

'Above' the Barycentre

Cyrannus System

The Void. The Dump. The wart on Zeus' backside.

This place had many names, none of them very complementary. What it boiled down to was a punishment posting for those poor souls that had succeeded in pissing off or annoy some 'senior' officer.

Something Fleet Captain Stavros had unwittingly done well.

The older Sagittaron born Veteran had had the misfortune of crossing paths with an ambitious, newly commissioned, wet-behind-the-ears Caprican Lieutenant that was itching to make a name for himself. And once the dust had settled, the Lt. had gained a berth on a prestigious in-system Battlestar, while Stavros and his crew had been banished to the hinterlands. And in the end they might get to hear about the news about the Earther's arrival, 4th or 5th hand, in the next 3 months. If only they were that lucky.

Not one to wallow in self-pity, Captain Stavros began pushing his crew to keep to the high standards that he knew they were capable. They had just started into the second 'week' of their deployment when the alarms began wailing away. Shipboard sensors had detected an energy spike off the port bow, causing the alert Duty Officer to sound General Quarters. A flurry of launching EW Raptors exploded from the ship to supplement the existing cameras and sensor readings.

The Captain arrived at the CIC shortly after, joining the crew as they watched the impossible happen. On overhead monitors replayed the image as a swirling blueish (greenish?) something blossoming off in the distance.

"Sensors!," barked the Captain.

"It's a stable something," came the reply. "If I had to make a guess, a portal of some sort. But to where..., I really have no idea."

"Does it pose a threat to the Colonies?"

"I have no idea, sir. You'd have to ask one of the eggheads back at R… Wait one. Something's beginning to form in the middle of the 'cloud'. Something big!"

With an actinic flash of light, a ship almost the size of a Mercury Class Battlestar was spat out from the depths of the cloud. Decelerating at an insane rate of speed, the ship began a gentle bank, coasting until it came to a stop 20 km away, facing the Charybdis. Almost as if a challenge of old, the other ship sat silent and still, waiting to see who would blink first.

Similar to the battlestar, this ship had two rectangular flight pods tucked close to the blocky main hull, running about three quarters the length of the ship. An armored 'cloak' rested over most of the upper surface with a sensor/control tower towards the aft on the port side. The only insane detail to the whole picture was the multitude of windows that could be seen throughout the vessel.

Taking a moment to steady his voice and nerves, the Captain requested that a hailing frequency be opened.

"This is Captain Stavros of the Colonial Ship Charybdis. Identify yourself and your reasons for being in Colonial Space."

"Captain Stavros. Please forgive the abruptness of our arrival. This is Colonel Green of the Tau'ri War Carrier, Kaga. We are on a mission to transport a civilian delegation for a meeting on Caprica. May we have permission to enter Colonial Space?"

The communications officer was a little stunned, to say the least. He'd had a chance to hear both the Djerba recordings and then the commentary that came with the message to the President. Both had been somewhat awkward and stilted. This voice, however, was more fluent than the others; easier to follow and understand.

"Permission? Colonel Green, don't you think it's a little late to be asking permission?"

"Well, Captain Stavros, since this is officially the first time that we've met, we thought we'd mind our manners."

"Manners? That's almost like a thief slipping out the back door to ask permission to come in the front."

"Captain, we're not here to cause any problems. But if I was informed correctly, we were happily playing in your backyard. It was you folk who insisted we come inside."

There was a momentary pause over the airwaves.

"This really isn't getting us anywhere, is it Mr. Green?"

"No, I don't believe it is, Captain Stavros."

There was another pause.

"If there is any concern, Captain Stavros, I heard no disrespect. Just the usual comments of an exceptional officer attempting to defend his post."

"My, uhm, thanks, Colonel Green. Please hold your position until clearance is granted."

"Understood. Kaga out."

Breathing a sigh of relief, Stavros turned, issuing orders as he moved.

"Alright, let's not keep our visitors waiting. I want all images, videos, and voice recordings loaded and sent on a Raptor, yesterday. The President is probably waiting for them. So the sooner we pass the message, the sooner they get to where they need to go. So let's move it, people."

Colonel Green had a concerned look on his face as he turned to face the Admiral.

"Are you sure this is what you wanted, sir? A first contact is usually handled by the commanding officer, not a lowly XO like myself."

"I can appreciate your concern, Mr. Green. But I think you can also agree that this is not a usual first contact. I can assure you that many of those people are expecting me to lead the delegation, to impress them with Tau'ri know-how. In reality, though, it's supposed to be two civilizations meeting for the first time. I really need to remain in the background."

"But, sir, sooner or later they will ask about you."

"And sooner or later I will respond. But until that point, we need to focus on the mission at hand. By the way, good call on handling the Captain. Carry on, XO."

"Aye, Admiral."

"Can I safely assume that things are still calm?," quipped a voice from behind.

"Yes, Mr. Woolsey, they are," Simpson responded, turning to face the delegates. "We were just making polite with the locals."

"And the translator," interrupted Dr. Jackson, "did it perform as we had hoped?"

"Yes, Dr. Jackson, the translator worked just fine. Colonel Green had no problems hashing out a minor issue with the dear Captain. The remote units should work fine when you meet with the Colonial delegates tomorrow."

"That is a relief," muttered Woolsey. "I was concerned that Dr. Jackson would end up shouldering most of the communications. I still don't understand why you are choosing to not participate in the negotiations. Because of your intimate knowledge of their language, culture, you'd be ideal to help communicate our intents and offerings to them. Instead, you're planning to spend all of your time on board the Kaga. Why?"

Shifting from foot to foot, Simpson shook his head.

"Mr. Woolsey, for the moment, this is where I'm needed the most, training this crew. From what I understand, there are battles coming, and this crew needs all the training it can get."

"But we're in the Colonial home system," countered Woolsey. "We're on a diplomatic mission to peacefully communicate with them. Why treat it as if the fighting could break out at any moment?"

Simpson took a deep breath, releasing it out slowly.

"Did you just hear Captain Stavros response? If that is any indication of the general population, there are still many Colonials that are just a bit 'pissed' with me for my prior visit. They are a proud people ready to defend what is theirs. If I just simply show up, they'll assume we're here for something. It's best that we put a civilian face on the delegation to direct them to our true concerns. As for me, I need to ensure that this ship is ready to defend itself from all enemies. As it stands, this crew is not ready for a toe to toe battle with the Wraith. I mean to see them ready for it. So, unless something comes up that requires my attention, I will remain here with my crew."

"Point taken, Admiral."

"And what of the common Colonial," intruded Jackson, "is there any chance that some of them might want to start something?"

"Like on Earth, there are always some that will want to rock the boat, get attention, or even voice a grievance. But considering how much we helped, or lost ourselves," Tim paused for a moment, "I'm hoping that should keep them in check, as long as nothing damages the goodwill we've built up for you."

Richard Woolsey frowned as one more concern came to mind.

"Is there any chance that any of the Colonials might use your wife to force issues their way? I realize that this would be a rather crass and underhanded move on their part, but what I've learned about human nature, it is an option some might consider using regardless of the ethical or moral repercussions."

Simpson wearily sat down in the command chair, an air of concern clearly enveloping him.

"I've been hoping that something like this will never come up. While the ceremony Sarah and I took part in was in a 'Vegas' style setting, it was one full of traditions including, flowers, tattooing, and full registration with both the religious and civilian agencies. There would be a great cry of outrage from the strongly religious if anything like that were tried." Simpson chuckled for a moment, recalling a recent colonial news article. "I've known a couple of politicians that were bodily thrown from their office for even suggesting it in jest."

With an even longer pause, the Admiral continued in an even quieter voice.

"However, if Sarah has chosen to annul the marriage, I can almost guarantee that the kid gloves will be off and some might even be out for blood."

"This is Carlos Hypatia of the Colonial News Network bringing you a late-breaking news flash."

"Ever since the release and leaking of various video footage, there has been an ongoing debate if in fact the Thirteenth Colony truly exists. Various experts and conspiracy buffs both sides of the argument have come forth with evidence that they claim conclusively proves their point of view. But, unfortunately, none of this has proven to give a decisive answer. That is until now."

"It has been reported and confirmed by Presidential sources that the Thirteenth Tribe has arrived. A ship calling itself the Kaga was intercepted by Colonial forces in the upper limits of this system. After requesting and being given permission to enter our system, they began the final leg of their journey to Caprica escorted by Captain Stavros of the Charybdis."

"The battle groups headed by the Atlantia, Pegasus, and the venerable Galactica are in the process of clearing an approach to the capital to prepare for this historic return of our missing brethren. All private and commercial traffic is requested to stay clear of the no-fly zone. It has been said that the FTL drive used by the Earthers has been described as significantly different requiring a bit of a runway to slow down. How different? Our sources say we'll find out in the next hour."

"Please stay tuned as we continue to cover the unfolding events."

Battlestar Galactica

Caprica Orbit

Sarah couldn't just stay at home. It just wasn't the same without Tim. Nothing was the same. And that was what bothered her the most. The house they had shared was no longer a home but just some place to keep her belongings. It was in space that she found the most comfort. Being among her shipmates was the only place she felt she could work things out. In times of trouble, it was her home and her refuge.

Given the scuttlebutt that had circulated through the ship, it took a few days to 'persuade' some of the more enthusiastic pilots to stop fawning over her. Whether it was the other's nursing black eyes, or Sarah seeking help for bruised knuckles, word eventually came down that she was to be left alone. To Sarah's relief, life quickly returned to some tolerable level of normal.

That is until the announcement of the Earth ship's arrival.

All available Vipers and Raptors had been quickly pressed into crowd control duty. It was not turning out to be the easy task the pilots had thought it would be. Everyone seemed to think that they should be entitled to the best 'seat' in the house to watch the Thirteener's return. What made it worse was that the area cordoned off was much larger than usual. So, as one private ship was herded back into position, two more would jump the boundaries in search of a better view point.

"Gods-damned Newsies!," she muttered. "When will they stay where they're told to?"

"What?," came a reply over the private military airwaves. "They haven't responded to your god's given charm yet?"

"Starbuck!," growled a very ugly Sarah, "I've been told to hold off dispensing reminders to everyone. But in your case, I'm starting to think I could make an exception."

"Take it easy there, 'Athena,'" came the defensive response. "This crap is trying for all of us out here. At least the other side of your family is finally showing up. Who knows, maybe Tim will finally make an appearance."

"Don't remind me. I'm still not sure these days if I want to shoot him or salute him," 'Athena' growled.

"Ooooh, girl! With an attitude like that, I'm just hoping you'll be selling tickets to the main event. Knowing you, there might be a couple of moves I could use on Zak if he ever gets out of line."

Whatever response Sarah was about to give was interrupted as the main frequency to all ships crackled to life.

"Attention all craft. This is the five-minute warning to clear the no-fly zone. Visitors and escort are expected to arrive at any time."

"Hey, Racetrack," piped up 'Kat.' Any idea what we're to expect? Sparkles, showers of stars, the blessings of the lord's poured out on the people? Anything like that?"

"No," came the response, "but I've been told you'll know it when you see it." There was a pause, as the sound of controls being manipulated came over the airwaves. "Wait a moment. I've got an energy spike. I think something's coming in."

Moments later a nearby flash of light revealed the familiar form of the Charybdis, her id signal sounding out loud and clear over the IFF receivers.

"Come on, Racetrack," moaned Kat. "Even I would have recognized the jump signature of one of our ships."

"But that wasn't it," replied a quiet Racetrack. "And if I'm reading this right, the energy spike is still building."

"What the frak is that!," came a cry over the wireless.

20,000 to 30,000 kilometers behind the Charybdis, something new formed in the darkness of space. A glowing, swirling cloud began to blossom near the far end of the no-fly zone startling some of the nearby ships.

"Holy Mother Hera," some quaking soul muttered over the wireless.

The cloud grew to almost five battlestars wide when a bright flash erupted from its depths, spitting out the visitor. The unknown ship coasted forward trailing gossamer threads of exotic matter from the tips of its hull, while in the background the cloud quickly faded into the blackness of space. With the grace and maneuverability expected from a much smaller ship, the newcomer banked and began coasting up to a position alongside the Charybdis.

"Caprica Space Control, this is the Tau'ri War Carrier Kaga," the airwaves crackled. "We are advising you that we are taking up a parallel course and position to the Charybdis, as previously instructed."

"Kaga, Caprica Space Control. We acknowledge. Welcome to Caprican space."

Bridge

War Carrier Kaga

Caprica Orbit

A soft whistle passed through Simpson's lips as he gazed on the tactical display.

"God, that is a lot of ships out there. A hell of a lot more than what we had battling the monster Cylon space station. I'm almost betting you could go for a walk and always have something to step on."

He paused for a moment while he took a long look at the sight before him.

"Mr. Green, please have the single squadron of Reapers launched for CAP duty. Include the two Jumpers. I don't want to give the impression that we are being overwhelmed by their display. All communications is to be done over subspace frequencies until otherwise cleared. Let's not let them find out too much too soon, okay?"

Richard Woolsey shook his head as he gave Simpson a long-suffering stare.

"Admiral Simpson," he commented, "may I remind you that this is a diplomatic mission. There is no need for the rattling of swords on our part. I just don't want to give any reason to start a fight we would most likely lose."

"True, Mr. Woolsey, but please remember that this is all Colonial Standard practice. While I might be launching less than what they would expect, this is the same procedure the Colonials would follow if the roles were reversed. What I'm concerned with is the potential fallout when Dr. Jackson takes the stage."

Daniel stopped for a moment, a stunned look slowly spreading on his face. "I'm really not that bad," he retorted.

Simpson, grinning right back at him, raised an eyebrow.

"Am I?," Daniel questioned quietly.

"Not really Dr. Jackson. Most of the time it depends on how they take to having their history and beliefs being turned upside down. The Colonials are a proud people, ones with which you will need to tiptoe carefully through the negotiations. There are still some findings I haven't been able to report to you, and they ultimately may have some bearing on how things work out with your negotiations.

CIC

Battlestar Atlantia

Caprica Orbit

"So people, what can you tell me about that ship?"

"Not much so far, Admiral. It's just under the size of a Mercury class Battlestar. It has the maneuverability of a destroyer or frigate. And it arrived using a form of FTL that no one has yet been able to identify."

"Is there any reason that sensors can't come up with more than that?"

"We're not sure. Something is playing havoc with the sensor returns in a way that prevents us from getting a lock or any definitive reading. The only thing we're pretty sure is that the power they're using to run this thing is far more than the maximum output of two or more Zeus class Battlestars."

"And we let the gods-damned thing into orbit. Oh Zeus!," Nagala muttered, running a hand through his rapidly thinning hair. "So nothing more that we knew an hour ago?"

Yes, Sir," came the disgruntled reply.

"Anything about the fighters?"

"Small, maneuverable, and with their dark color pattern, damned hard to follow visually. Any actual details will have to be gleaned from any gun camera footage from someone that was lucky enough to have been nearby. Their version of a Raptor is something else. Greenish in color, it's basically a flying tube with visibility to the front only. For a moment it seemed that something like 'Wings' opened up on the sides as they moved into position above and below the ship, but other than that, nothing."

"Has there been any communications from either the fighters or the ship?"

"Other than the chatter between space control and the Kaga, nothing that we've been able to detect."

Scrubbing his face with both hands, Admiral Nagala took a moment to control his breathing and thoughts. Nothing made sense here. They seemed to be civilized enough, just wanting to make contact with the Colonies. But, in his eyes, to be hiding so much and apparently in plain sight was simply unnerving.

"Alright then. Any thoughts or assumptions on what we might have here? Come on, people! I'd rather have educated guesswork here rather than nothing at all."

"Admiral..."

"Dr. Baltar now is the time for you and your 'eggheads' to get off your well-paid backsides and contribute. The tacticians around here can't offer what they don't know. This is the point where you step in."

"If you insist. Initially, the overall design of it is too similar to our battlestars to be a coincidence. While we now have a contoured body with retractable flight pods, this newcomer is blocky and fixed. More of a modular design. It's very similar in style to what we produced earlier in ship development only a lot lighter. If I hadn't seen the battle footage from the Pegasus, I'd swear that ship wouldn't last a minute in a pitched battle."

"When the fighters and 'Raptor's,'" Baltar air-quoted, "were launched, I overheard Raptor 451 comment about a glow or sparkly effect as the Earther's craft left the end of the flight pod. This made me wonder. And later on, when another Raptor commented they saw figures moving about in the flight pod itself, it confirmed a hunch I started to have; energy shields. I don't know how they've accomplished it, or are generating the power to run it, but it all fits."

"And 'Kaga'?," prompted Nagala.

"No idea," responded a nearby linguist. "I can find no resemblance to any language we have from the name alone. All I can figure is that it is a possible a play on Colonel Simpson's call sign. Other than that, I have no idea."

"That's just stellar, everyone," moaned the beleaguered admiral. "Just frakkin' stellar."

"Kaga, this is Caprican Space Control. The Colonial Leadership is ready to receive your delegation. Have your shuttle fly to 30 km ahead of the Kaga where two Vipers will be ready to escort it to it's destination."

Copy that, Control. Jumper 209 will be departing in 10 minutes."

"Sorry. 'Jumper'?"

"Just something we've come to call them, Control."

"Un.. understood, Kaga. Viper escort will be waiting. Control out."

"Kat, are you able to pick up the Earther's shuttle yet?"

"It's just leaving the port flight pod now, Starbuck. Mind you…," she paused for a moment, "I'm getting possible sensor ghosts coming along with it."

"Probably those fighters of theirs," muttered Starbuck. "Keep cool and don't let them rattle you, Kat. We'll show them what it means to be professional."

With gun cameras trained on the 'Jumper' craft recording what details they could, the two Vipers calmly held their positions waiting to escort the Earthers to the meeting. The sensor 'ghosts' continued to be a growing concern as the mark one eyeball couldn't quite pick them out from the blackness of space. Where ever they were, Starbuck knew they could become a significant problem.

As the Jumper crossed the 30 km boundary, the two Vipers smoothly slid into place on either side.

"Jumper 209, this is Colonial Flight. We're here to escort you planetside."

"Colonial Flight, Jumper 209 copies. Must mean you're off the hook, Kage."

"Yeah, I heard Maverick. It sounds like you've got the Colony's finest leading you down."

Starbuck started for a moment, looking closer at the Earther's shuttle. "Tim? Is that you in there?"

"Nope. High and a little right of your six o'clock."

"Crap!," growled Starbuck, as she cranked her neck around to see. "I'm guessing that's another 'kill' for you, then?"

"Naw. You didn't know I was here. Maybe next time."

"Aw, how gracious of you, Kage," she snarked. "You gonna come down to see the family?"

"It all depends oncity," he replied quietly.

"On…?"

"Permission and if there's a family to go down to…," there was a sudden cough as the voice returned to a business like demeanour. "Colonial Flight, you'd better get going. There's unnecessary ears listening in, and I, for one, don't want to be the reason you caught crap from Tigh or the 'old man'. Hopefully we can talk later. And since you were kind enough to provide the drinks the first time we met, the next round is on me."

"I'm holding you to it, Kage. Colonial Flight, out."

As the trio of shadowing Reapers banked away to fade into the darkness of space, the Jumper and two Vipers began their descent to the planet below. Easing their way through the buffeting turbulence of re-entry, the three craft wended their way to the Fleet base outside of the planets new capital city. It was a sobering moment for the Jumper's occupants as they passed over the rubble that was CaprCity, What once boasted gleaming towers reaching to the sky, was now a grim reminder of losses for both the planet's population and SG-13's own team mates during the recent war.

Approaching the base, they could clearly see the landing site marked out with flags and red carpet. Neatly lining up with the end of the carpet, the jumper pilot began preparations for landing. Killing most of its forward speed, the Jumper slowed down as the drive pods were lowered and 'wings' retracted back into the hull. Reaching its destination, the Jumper did a smart about turn and quietly lowered itself to the tarmac. Moments later, to the Colonial's surprise, the rear hatch unlocked and levered itself to the ground.

Peering out the rear of the Jumper, security could see that things had been set up for a simplified State Visit. A red carpet ran the distance to a stretch ground vehicle. Pennants on standards alternated with Colonial soldiers, weapons shouldered, for the length of the carpet. Near the Jumper a Colonial Admiral and another individual in flowing robes waited patiently.

After taking a moment to straighten themselves out, and ensure the Asgard translation stones were in place, Woolsey and Jackson stood from their seats to emerge from the Jumper. Walking down the carpet, the Admiral came forward to greet them.

"Gentlemen, it's a pleasure to have you here. I am Admiral Nagala, Head of the Colonial Fleet, and this is Elosha, our spiritual representative for the 12 Lords of Kobol."

"It's a pleasure to be here Admiral. I am Richard Woolsey, Representative for the United Earth Government, and this is Dr. Daniel Jackson, a cultural specialist, and linguist."

Appearing a little puzzled, the Admiral attempted to peer deeper into the Jumper. "Mr. Woolsey, is this your entire party?"

"Yes?," came the concerned response. "Is there a problem?"

"No, not really. It's just that we had assumed there would be more." Turning, Nagala gestured to the ground vehicle. "But if this is everyone, would the two of you care to join us? The President is waiting at a secure location to continue the dialogue."

"Colonel Green, I have a hail from the ship calling itself the Pegasus."

"Alright, Mr. Ferguson," muttered the Colonel. "Keep the translation program in place and direct it to the command chair. I'll take it there."

"Aye, sir. Transferring now."

Punching a button on the control arm, Green responded.

"Pegasus, this is Colonel Green of the Kaga. What can I do for you?"

"Colonel Green, this is Admiral Cain, Pegasus Actual. I just wanted to welcome you and your crew to our humble system."

"Why thank you, Admiral. We took a long gaze at your fair world as we arrived. It reminded me a lot of my home world."

"It took you awhile to get here, Colonel?"

"Not really. We had 3 or 4 other destinations we had to survey on our way here. Of them all, yours is the closest to what we know as home."

"That's nice to hear. Are you Kaga Actual, and if not, could I please speak to Kaga Actual?"

"I'm sorry, Admiral Cain, but I am just the humble XO. The Admiral is off the bridge at the moment tending to several duties. I do apologize for his absence, but I can advise him that you inquired about him when he returns?"

"I would appreciate that. Thank you. Pegasus out."

Presidential Retreat

Pan's Wilderness Preserve

Caprica

Almost ignoring the ongoing banter between Dr. Jackson and the Colonial representatives, Woolsey quietly gazed at the changing scenery; from the welcoming throngs of people to the quieter pastoral views of the surrounding countryside. Many was the time where he had wondered what it was like to take that ride, to see the different sights. 'The more things change, the more they stay the same,' Woolsey chuckled to himself.

The retreat was strangely similar to the Camp David retreat of rural Maryland back home. The vehicle began to slow as it approached the front of an almost rustic building, sitting in a clearing surrounded by dense growth of ancient forest. Paths could be seen radiating out in all directions from the structure, lined by fully mature deciduous trees, their long slender branches arched up and over to give each path a solemn cathedral-like feel.

As an aide opened the door to the parked vehicle, an energetic Adar was there warmly welcoming the two into the building.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please come in," he gestured, directing the party to the central meeting room. "It's been a while in the making, but finally all of the tribes of man are finally drawing back together again. I see that you've become acquainted with Admiral Nagala, and Priestess Elosha. I am Richard Adar, President of the 12 Colonies, and beside me is Senator Carolanne Adama."

"Adama," mused Daniel, as everyone took their seats. "You wouldn't be related to an Admiral Adama by any chance, would you?"

"My husband. Why? Did Tim, that flighty son-in-law of mine, have anything to say about us?"

"Only nice things, I can assure you," Woolsey responded with a frown.

"Yeah, I bet! If that man had any lick of sense he would have gotten himself back here to support his wife and do his duty to the Fleet. But no. The first chance he gets, he runs for home. Gods, I get it. We all suffered in one way or another due to that damnable war, but that's no reason for the child to run and hide."

"Senator Adama, I think there's a bit more to it than you realize," Dr. Jackson firmly responded. Turning to Adar, he asked, "Did she see the information package we left you?"

"Yes, she did," came the reply. "The non-technical contents and video clips were made public a month after we received them."

"Admiral Nagala, can I safely assume that any reasonable order lawfully given in the Colonial service is expected to be fulfilled, regardless of the circumstances?"

"Without question."

Turning back to the senator, Daniel continued.

"So, based on that information, Timothy Simpson was placed in an impossible position. He had lost his original family in our infamous 'Rain of Death' where many millions of perished. Later he looses people he had grown very closes to, effectively what had become his surrogate family, defending your worlds. And now, because he had to respond to a lawfully given order by a superior, he's likely to lose a third. Don't you think you could have a little compassion for him?"

"Well, why couldn't he have just stayed and been happy here?"

"Because," interrupted Woolsey, "like you, we are still rebuilding. We need all the experienced people we could find to help. In Tim's case, he had inadvertently gained space combat experience. Something you have obviously noticed. It is only at the suggestion made by a race friendly to our world that we are making formal contact with you."

"And by the grace of the Lords of Kobol, this means that the lost tribe will have returned," intoned Elosha. "And once you embrace what your heritage is, Mankind will be whole again. We will help you rebuild what you have lost, and together we can bask in the glory of the Lord's blessing together."

Seeing the concern forming in Woolsey's face, Adar was quick to jump in.

"Of course if you've been out of touch with the faith, we can provide priests to guide you while we prepare the ancient ceremonies of reconciliation."

There was a pause while Richard Woolsey collected his thoughts. He knew there might be some difficulties, but things were starting to get way out of hand.

"Mr. President, I think there has been a misunderstanding here."

"What misunderstandings, Mr. Woolsey? It's a time to rejoice. The tribes of Man will be together once again."

"Mr. President, we didn't come here to join with you. We came to see if we could arrange the beginnings of an alliance between your 12 Colonies and our planet Earth."

"But you're human," sputtered Senator Adama. "You're human, and you're from Earth! What confusion could there be?"

"If it's a question of how our mutual military forces would fit together," Nagala offered, "I can assure you we can find a way of honoring the existing rank structure. With the technology you have to offer, we can ensure peace throughout the galaxy, as the Lords say we should."

Woolsey looked on, his mouth open as he tried to find a diplomatic way to ease the Colonials down. The comments of disdain and disbelief continued to build in number and volume, as idea after idea came to mind only to be shot down as unusable. In a moment of mild panic, he glanced over to Daniel for any sort of help. With a quick whistle, Daniel broke through the growing cacophony.

"Ladies, gentlemen, I believe what Mr. Woolsey is trying to say is that while you think that we are the people from your culture's past, I can confirm we are not."

The resulting silence was deafening.

"You're not from the Earth of the Thirteenth Tribe?," whispered Elosha.

"I'm sorry, but no," offered Woolsey. "As part of the mission to get us here, the Admiral was tasked to survey three other star systems. It was during the surveying of one system. We came across a world that we believe to be your 'Earth.'"

"Is it possible that you could give us the coordinates so that we might contact this Earth?," Adar quietly asked. "To see if this is the world of our lost cousins?"

"Certainly. I'll have the Kaga transmit the coordinates once we return. But I must warn you. It's not likely you will get any response. There was clear evidence that the planet had suffered a major conflict several centuries in the past where nuclear weapons had been used. Radiation levels are presently low enough on most of the planet's surface to allow short visits, but it won't be fit for habitation for many years to come."

"My gods," whispered a stunned Nagala. "And all this time, we'd been hoping, ..praying, ... Are you sure they were Colonial?"

"Regretfully, yes. The teams we sent down for short searches reported finding technology similar to yours. Decidedly different versions maybe, but clearly similar."

Jackson and Woolsey looked at the silent Colonials with sympathy. Daniel, for one, could appreciate the feeling of loss. He thought back, remembering the feeling that came from the loss of Tollana and Narim's last message.

"Even though you claim not to have Colonial history, are you sure that you won't join and become one with us," offered President Adar. "With our strength and your technology, we could protect the galaxy, as the Lords had willed we should."

"I'm sorry, Mr. President, but no," Woolsey gently replied. "May I suggest that Dr. Jackson and myself return to the Kaga to give you some time to think about what we've said. Later, we can reconvene and continue at a later time."

"For now, I agree. But," he continued, "to share views into each other's culture, is there a chance that we could continue the talks aboard your ship?"

"I will have to confirm that with the Admiral, but I don't see that as a problem."

"Very well, Mr. Woolsey. Please forgive my rudeness, but it seems there is much for us to think on. One of my aides will escort you to the transport outside. It will return you to your 'Jumper.'"

"Thank you, Mr. President. Until later."

It was a full 30 minutes later before any motion took place in the retreat. As if in a daze, Adar made his way to a table at the side of the conference room. Selecting a tall glass among the many there, he proceeded to pour a healthy amount from a very dusty bottle. It was only after half emptying the glass that he remembered the others presence in the room. Refilling his glass, and three others like it, he made his way around the room before retaking his seat.

"So," came the soft quiet prompt.

"Yeah. So," responded Nagala.

"I imagined there would be differences, difficulties, possible conflicts of faith, but…," began Elosha.

"But what?," questioned Nagala.

"I didn't think that the crisis would be mine!," she cried out. "The Tau'ri delegation was nothing like what I was hoping to see. Instead of fellow humans looking forward to rejoining the family under the Lords, we have these 'people' wanting to arrange treaties; as if there was no more to the galaxy than agreements and alliances rather than the union the Lords would have us enjoy."

"No offense meant Priestess," commented Nagala, "but during their debrief, Admiral Adama broached a similar thought. He observed that the ships of these 'Tau'ri' were more powerful than even what we'd been able to develop so far. He couldn't help but wonder what sorts of threats they could have encountered that would have forced them to need such technology."

"Personally, I agree we can't take all of this at face value. There is too much that borders on the realm of the fantastic about what these people claim. I, for one, want to see the evidence about the Thirteenth tribe's demise. For all we know, that world is dead at these people's hands. But if what they claim is true, I am just as confused as to why they won't throw in with us and have all humans benefit from their technological improvements. It just feels like a great contradiction between what they say and what they're willing to do."

"Interesting," opined Adar. "Senator, do you have any insight to offer?"

Carolanne Adama studied her glass, her thoughts just as muddled and mixed as it's contents. The others waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts.

"I'm not sure how usable some of my thoughts are going to be, biased as they might be. Admittedly, I was out of line with Dr. Jackson. But what mother wouldn't when faced with a potential threat to her daughter's happiness. Just the same, as the good admiral stated, if the information is correct, and I am beginning to believe it is, then this paints a much different picture of the galaxy than what we might have originally assumed or have been told. No disrespect meant, Priestess."

"Just the same, I still feel there is more to the story that what they're letting on. I don't know if it was intended to be kind, but all I know is that there was hesitation in both of their voices when they spoke of this 'Earth.' With any luck, this visit to the Kaga will be approved. And maybe, just maybe, we finally pin them down and get some answers for a change."

"Are you sure that is what you want, Senator?" queried the priestess. "There is the Legend of Pandora, where when opening the vessel given to her by the gods, she loosed all sorts of curses upon mankind. These curses were never to be re-bottled again. Who is to say that might not be the case here. As conflicted as I am, I know that the best we can do is approach this cautiously, lest we inflict the same disasters upon ourselves."

"Thank you for that thoughtful insight, Elosha," murmured Adar. "There is much here that we still do not understand, and much that the Tau'ri are not saying. I am hoping that during these future meetings the answers will be more forthcoming, but not at the cost of what it means to be of the 12 Tribes of Man."

"So say we all," assented Nagala.

Port Flight Deck

War Carrier Kaga

Caprica Orbit

Admiral Simpson watched as the two men slowly made their way down the Jumper's boarding ramp. The men's fatigue was clearly showing on their faces.

"Rough meeting?," he quipped grinning, as he led the two to his ready room.

"More than you'd like to know," groaned Dr. Jackson.

"Hey. My team lived here for a number of years. I have a good idea of what they're like."

"Yes, Admiral, you did warn us," responded Woolsey, hands in mock surrender. "Unfortunately they now know of their 'Earth.' It was only because they insisted we were their lost tribe that we felt that we had to inform them."

"And that went over…,"

"Not well," admitted Daniel. "But I have to give them points for stubbornness. Even while realizing their loss, they still kept on insisting that we should join with them."

"And I figure it's been that stubbornness that has kept them going," admitted Simpson, "in the face of many challenges and obstacles."

Pulling a dusty bottle from a side cabinet, Simpson poured a quick measure for the three of them. Eyeing the glass gingerly, Woolsey took a hesitant sip.

"Not bad," he admitted. "Can I assume this came from the Colonies?

"Yes, but I'm not revealing where I've stashed the rest. If word ever got out, I'd image the whole crew would be expecting a round on me."

"I thought so. The bottle looks similar to one in the conference room. We never had a chance for refreshments. The conversation became rather stormy, almost from the get-go."

"I can only imagine."

"There was a formal request from the President."

"Oh?"

"He's asking that the next round of talks take place here, on the Kaga."

"Partly to see if I'm here and partly to see what we have to work with, I suppose," Simpson commented thoughtfully. "And they still have no idea of my rank?"

"Not that we know of," said Daniel. "Do you know how much longer will we need to keep this up?"

"We all know that this is to be an alliance of worlds. The military should have no influence in it, regardless of what the Colonials believe." Simpson took a thoughtful sip of his drink before continuing. "I know it will come out eventually. Let's just wait and see when that will be."

"If your mother-in-law is included on the list of visiting dignitaries, it could be sooner than you think," pointed out Woolsey. "If it wasn't for a bit of deflection on Daniel's part, she was almost ready to crucify you for cowardice."

"I can believe it," muttered Simpson. "Mind you, considering the circumstances, can you blame her. To have a son-in-law, her daughter's seeming answer from the gods, rabbit at the first opportunity to go home? How would you feel?," he pondered quietly. "I think it's time for you to get some rest, gents. I'll arrange to have the visiting VIP's up here in two days time. I can only hope that by then you will be ready to face them."

Port Flight Pod

Battlestar Pegasus

Caprica Orbit

"Mr. President, I cannot protest enough about you visiting that war ship. You being on the Pegasus, this close is already too much of a risk. To board that ship, in my opinion, is simply unacceptable. Isn't there someone else that can take your place, sir?"

"As much as I would like to agree with you, Nicola, this is one of those times when the risks must be taken. I began these talks, I mean to see them through to the end. I know this goes totally against everything you've been trained for, but this is history in the making. For good or for ill, I'm going to be a part of it and not sit on the sidelines."

"Mr. President?," interrupted Nagala, some gear in hand.

"Yes?"

"The Tau'ri sent over some items for the visiting members to wear while in the flight pod."

"What, new specialized space suits they're testing out?"

"No, sir. White vests and hearing protection" responded a confused admiral.

"They're expecting us to just disembark in the flight bay itself? In open vacuum?"

"I don't know, sir. The message that came with the gear said that they had promised every protection to the visiting dignitaries and that this was a part of it."

Adar shot a withering stare at Agent Krystos, just daring her to stop him.

"You know my opinions, Mr. President. Consider my acceptance of your continuing actions only under EXTREME protest."

"Duly noted, Agent Krystos. Are the others ready to go, Admiral?"

"Outfitted and boarding the transport as we speak. We're just waiting on you, sir."

"Okay then. Let's not keep history waiting, shall we?"

"LSO to Admiral Simpson."

"Simpson here, LSO. What's the word?"

"The Colonials are on their way, sir. They're coming over in something they call a "Gemini Traveller." No specs were included in the transmission, but what they did send was a revised visitor list. The number of people has been doubled with some substitutions. If my information is correct, they should be on final approach in 15 minutes."

"LSO, for reference sake the Gemini Traveller is roughly the same tonnage as an Al'kesh bomber but designed to operate outside of the atmosphere. Best thinking is to treat it like a space-bound C-130 Hercules with the same level of technology for motion compensation."

"So low and slow, keeping the tractor beam ready to assist them in the bay, sir?"

"Exactly."

"LSO copies, Admiral." There was a pause. "Colonial transport is now 10 minutes out."

"Oh, crap."

"Problems, sir?," piped up Colonel Green. A concerned Jackson and Woolsey looked on intently.

"Nothing a deep rabbit hole wouldn't fix. It seems a few more people wanted to crash the party. Instead of a Jumper worth of people coming to visit, we have an Al'Kesh transport worth showing up. Mr. Green, do we have spare personnel to hand hold and secure the extra visitors?"

"I'll find out as quick as I can, and if not I will pull people from other duties to cover the extra visitors. Did we send enough equipment over?"

"Apparently. Get a rush on the extra people. The transport is nine minutes out and closing."

"Admiral," Mr. Woolsey piped up, "shouldn't both you and Colonel Green be dressed up to receive our guests?"

"Mr. Woolsey," Simpson replied soberly, "I'm still needed to assist the CAG with training the pilots. Some should be able to hold their own against the Wraith, but the rest of them are still a work in progress. At the same time, Colonel Green is needed to stand a command watch. As I was instructed neither of us should be present during these meetings. We will be available if something comes up, but in an advisory role only."

"I understand. Still, don't you think it polite to stay and greet our guests before returning to duty?"

"Of course. What sort of a host would I be if I acted otherwise, Mr. Woolsey," Simpson grinned in return.

Karl "Helo" Agathon had Colonial 115 stationary and off to the 'out' side of the Kaga's Port flight pod. He'd been Adama's first choice as pilot primarily for his eye for detail, and also for his ability to keep calm in stressful situations. He'd been a Raptor driver for most of his career, having learned to deal with pretty much anything that came his way. That is until now.

The sight of the various Tau'ri fighters 'screaming' into the pod had him just a little unnerved. He was beginning to assume that his upcoming task was to merge with those self-same fighters, avoid the sides of the pod, and stop in a very short amount of space. This would have been slightly feasible in his Raptor, but the transport he was flying now was a whale in comparison. There was no way in Hades it was going to be possible.

"Colonial 115, Kaga LSO. You can begin your approach now. All other traffic has been halted until you've been tucked away. Please descend 200 metres and approach at 15 m/s parallel to the approach lights. Please be prepared to idle your engines as you cross the outer boundary. Do you copy?"

"Copy LSO," Helo replied, breathing a sigh of relief. "I thought our pilots were crazy at times. Yours make them look tame in comparison."

"Copy that 115. I gather that's a mentality issue, regardless the society they come from," came the chuckled response.

After advising his passengers, Helo began with the usual approach. Lining up on the bay, he trimmed his attitude and lowered the landing gear for imminent landing. As he crossed the outer edge of the pod he noticed a play of light across the viewing port and a bit of a jerk as his forward speed dropped slightly. Almost immediately the control display lit up with all sorts of warnings, even some Helo had only seen in flight school. A startled collection of cries came from the passenger compartment as the transport shimmied and shook.

'This can't be happening,' he thought to himself as instinct took over. Hands danced over the control panel as he followed his training, trying to avoid disaster.

"Colonial 115, this is Kaga LSO," a voice came calling over the headset. "Cut your engines. I repeat, CUT YOUR ENGINES! Do you copy?"

"I'm trying to avoid a crash here, LSO," Helo gave in panicked reply.

"You won't. Trust me."

"Trust you?," was his skeptic response.

"Yeah. And when we get you down, I'll be the first to buy you a round in the mess."

"Okay, LSO. Colonial 115 copies. This disaster is now in your hands. Powering down engines, now."

Very quickly the rocky ride that had begun at the pod's entrance changed to a smooth sailing to a lit pad half way down the pod's length. Beginning to trust the LSO's instructions, Helo began his shutdown checklist as the transport seemed to be magically moved to its destination. He kept the RCS system live however, just in case.

The transport was just touching down when Admiral Adama squeezed through the compartment door, just in time to witness Helo complete his checklist. The older man watched quietly as the pilot scrubbed his face with his hands, while looking up to offer a prayer of thanks. The Admiral chuckled quietly, as Helo's head snapped around.

"Admiral, you startled me. Is Everyone okay back there?"

"A little shaken up, but none the worse for wear. What happened?"

"The gods only know, sir. We were on a normal approach when I noticed the transport suddenly slow down. Trying to compensate, I ended up with a whole slew of warnings, including a couple I've only seen during advanced disaster training."

"But you were able to work it out, right?"

"No, sir. Kaga LSO advised me to cut the engines. From there, they did all the flying. Sir? Is everything okay?"

Adama had become still, a look of shock forming on his face.

"Is that man standing out in front of the transport? Without an EVA suit?"

Before Helo could respond, a solid knock resonated from the ship's boarding hatch. Elosha looked on in fright, backing up to the seat furthest away. The rest of the passengers looked on in disbelief.

"LSO, Colonial 115. What in Hades is going on?"

"Sorry to scare you like that 115. We don't have an elevator large enough to bring you down. Instead, we thought you'd like a first hand view of the flight deck. It can be quite impressive. There is a boarding ladder in place to help you down."

"You mean there's air out there?!"

"Sure. I thought you knew by now? Don't you have equipment to check pressure balance? Take your time to confirm it. When you're ready to come out, ensure all passengers have a white vest and hearing protection. It can get noisy at times."

In a daze, Helo made his way to the primary airlock. It was only after he had operated and checked the results of the comparator twice did he begin to believe his eyes. There really was an atmosphere out there. Against the concerns of the other passengers, he slowly activated the locking mechanism.

As the hatch began to crack open, the cacophony of noise rolled into the passenger cabin like an ocean wave, immersing them in one great splash. Squeals of overworked tires vied with the whine of slowing engines, while in the distance multiple thundering booms occasionally punctuated through. Ensuring that vests and headphones were in place, a blue shirted deckhand, outside the hatch, used hand gestures to direct them to climb down the ladder. With much trepidation, mostly from the civilians, the party cautiously made their way down the ladder to find themselves in front row seats to seeming chaos.

Framed between the pod's wall and their own transport's thrusters was a scene of bedlam where a rainbow of coloured individuals raced haphazardly over the open deck. Here were red people handling what looked like armaments, there were blues, under the direction of a few yellows, using deck vehicles to manhandle fighters onto lowering elevators. From time to time a fighter would 'scream' into the pod, accompanied by the thundering booms, only to stop still only hundreds of metres downrange. To the civilians it was scary, but to the military it was oddly comforting.

After allowing them a few minutes to absorb the activities, their blue guide began directing them to a nearby hatch.

"I would like to welcome you to the Kaga," a familiar voice offered, as the Colonials finished removing their vests and headgear. "I'm sorry that the landing was a bit of a harrowing experience..."

"Harrowing? Try frightening," Senator Adama retorted, as the outside hatch was dogged shut, "or is being jostled about your idea of setting the mood for negotiations, Mr. Simpson?"

Sarah's head jerked around to see. It was her Tim, but not as she remembered him. Gone were the double breasted Grey's she'd seen him wearing on duty, but in their place was a tan coverall with a drab green over-piece, festooned with unit crests and some sort of identity tag on the upper left chest. This clearly was something more of a functional outfit rather than a dress uniform in which he should have worn to greet them.

"Senator Adama, No, that was not the intention. Not at all. There were misunderstandings and miscommunication on both sides which clearly resulted in a little roughness with your arrival. We're sorry that you had to go through it."

Mr. Woolsey quickly intruded, hand up to forestall the irate Senator.

"Since I can understand that your 'rocky' arrival may have unsettled you, it was decided that you would be offered a chance to recover from your ordeal before formal talks resumed. As such, quarters have been set aside for you and your party to rest and accustom yourselves with us and this ship."

"That is greatly appreciated, Mr. Woolsey," offered Adar. "I'm hoping that will include access to Mr. Simpson here? Reading and seeing something is one thing, but to have a personal guide would be invaluable to our understanding."

"I will do everything I can to be available to you, Sir. But in the long run it will depend on how much time I can free up from my other duties," Simpson replied firmly.

"Your duties?," snarked the Senator. "Your duties, first and foremost, should have been to the Colonies and your wife! Or was that not so important once you were able to get home?"

"Madame Senator. If you would.."

"Just as I thought," she snapped. "Hiding behind protocol and rhetoric. I should have seen that coming."

Simpson's face went neutral as his hands clenched in quiet frustration. He had hoped for some chance to explain his side of the story, but it seemed that for now it was not to be.

"For the most part," Simpson offered through clenched teeth, "I would like to say it is good to see everyone once again. Mr. President. Admirals. Sarah." A glance at the other members of the delegation showed similar signs of concern and betrayal, but the most heart wrenching was Sarah.

"And with that," he quietly spoke, his heart heavy with pain, "I must leave you. I've been delegated the task of confirming the details of Colonial 115's rough arrival. If you will all excuse me, I need to speak with the LSO, before he goes off shift. Please check with your escorts to arrange time with me."

Brusquely grabbing a well used helmet and flight bag off a hook on the nearby wall, Simpson trudged out.

Looking quietly at the closing hatch, Admiral Cain queried,"What exactly are Mr. Simpson's duties aboard the Kaga?"

"The same thing he did here in the Colonies. Looking after his people, Admiral," Daniel replied softly. "Looking after his people."

Tim wearily plodded to his quarters. Today's session, while exhausting, was one for the books. Finally after all the hard work, the tactics were now firmly sinking in. This crop of pilots were now grasping the difference between atmosphere and space combat, and in a couple of instances surprised even Tim. This didn't make them veterans by any stretch of the imagination, but with ongoing practice and patrols they would be well on their way.

The small smile that had graced his face faded to a frown as he noted the marine sergeant standing outside his office door. Knowing there were very few reasons why he'd be there, Simpson strode right on up to find out.

"Sergeant, it's a little strange for you to be standing out here," Simpson joked, offering a salute to the Non-com. "Please don't tell me you're on report again."

"No, sir," replied the Sergeant. "It's one of the Colonial delegates. She insisted on seeing you privately. Claims that she's your wife, sir. The best I could figure was to have her wait for you in your office."

"Is she a young Colonial Captain?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"For her alone, I agree that you did the right thing."

Closing his eyes, Tim slowly let out a deep breath to calm his nerves and collect his thoughts. This was going to be unpleasant, but it was something he had to face.

"Sergeant, in a moment, I am going into that room. The door will be closed but not shut. I want you to stand guard and keep an ear open to what happens inside. I guarantee that things are going to get noisy and quite possibly very messy. But if, and only if, it sounds like someone is being torn limb from limb are you to enter and attempt to end the conflict by any reasonable means. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir," replied the marine, grinning from ear to ear.

"And wipe that grin off your face, Sergeant, or I'll be selling tickets to the next time you and Lucy have a blow-out. I remember you describing how vindictive she can be!"

"Yes, sir," the marine replied, grinning all the more.

With a shake of the head, and one last deep sigh of resignation, Simpson entered.

From the moment she was let into the office she could tell it was his. But then again it wasn't. For some strange reason it had the same feel as when she got to see her father on the Galactica. Here and there were the various pictures and mementos that had gone missing when Tim had left. Many were in prominent locations on the walls while other special ones were close and personal on the desk that dominated the room. The rest of the room, as she could see, was a collection of pictures and documents from before her time with Tim. Here and there were pictures of Tim's team, during happier times, mixed with official looking documents announcing something she could not understand. The puzzle that was Tim Simpson kept growing by leaps and bounds.

From the moment that Sarah had been left alone in the office, it was as if she had made it her personal mission to find out everything she could about Tim. As far as she knew, couples weren't supposed to keep secrets from each other, right? And most anyone would readily agree that not being from the Colonies was a whopper of a secret. It was with that attitude that Sarah began nosing her way through the office, pulling drawers and poking into closets and cabinets. Nothing was sacred in her eyes. The day of reckoning had come and it was time for Tim to come clean.

It was an hour later that a familiar voice interrupted her search.

"You know, if it wasn't so good to see you, I could have you held for military espionage?"

Tim knew from the start that he wasn't dealing with any ordinary anger. Maybe it was the way Sarah took a moment to slowly rise from the Cupboard she had been searching. Or it could have been that while turning to face Tim, she crossed her arms over her chest. But what clinched it for Tim was the almost fiery stare that she gave him as she considered her response.

"Something tells me the same could be said for you, DEAR," came the frosty response.

"But that was something that I was forced into," Tim quietly offered, removing his duty jacket. "It's not like a draft gives you much of a choice."

"Oooohhh, nnnoooooo," she replied snarkily, "no choice what so ever. Just like you had to come here. Just like you had to spend time on our worlds. Just like you had to be at that bar. Just like you HAD TO BE WITH ME!," she screamed.

Tim clearly hear the anger in her voice building as he quietly hung up his jacket. It was only when her voice had attained the harpy-like shrillness that he turned to see what was going on.

SLAP!

For a moment it almost seemed as if Tim was viewing his own personalized map of the galaxy before Sarah's apoplectic face returned to his sight. Residual swirling stars punctuated the searing sting to the left side of his face. It was only as he moved to sooth the pain that he realized that Sarah was on the move again.

SLAP! SLAP!

Instantly the star map returned in all its sparkling glory. Tim could not remember when he had been in so much pain. He knew there was going to be some fallout with Sarah over his disappearance, but he never thought it would be this violent.

"I thought we meant something to each other, Tim," Sarah yelled, swinging at him again. "How could you just up and run off like that?! Do you know how much frakken Hades CI put me through?!" Tim barely dodged a well aimed backhand. "That was NOTHING to the crap the MEDIA put me through!"

Tim's office was steadily being reduced to a disaster area only because he had badly underestimated her ability to wage a personal war. Mementos of past friends as well as present day belongings were beginning to make mountainous piles of debris about the office. The only problem was that Sarah's fury showed no sign of abating.

"Sarah, would you… Ow, god damn it, Sarah! Can't you calm down for a minute? Can't we try to talk this out?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he had made things go from bad to worse.

"Calm down. Calm Down?! I've gone through Hades for the past months, and YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN?!"

Sergeant Yamoto was a veteran of the USMC. He'd seen action in Somalia. He'd fought insurgents in Afghanistan. Hell, he'd even gone toe to toe with the Jaffa and Kull Warriors that Anubis had dropped on Earth during that last global assault. But the battle he was now overhearing in the Admiral's office was leaving him unsure.

Sure, he'd pissed his wife off from time to time. There was that one time he'd literally spent 2 months in the dog house when he'd left Lucy standing in the bedroom doorway for a surprise deployment of his unit. She'd gone out of her way to dress up in that sexy little outfit he had always loved, in hopes of a romantic evening together. It didn't help anything when the operation was given the stand down notice a couple of hours later. Even with all the begging and grovelling he'd done since, there were times she still swore he'd done it to get some time out with the boys.

But if the noise coming from the office was any indication, it was going to be amazing if any of the room's contents, or occupants for that matter, were still intact or even recoverable. Simply put, this had to be an argument for the record books. Even on his best days, the sergeant hadn't riled up his wife anywhere near to what the Admiral was having to deal with right now. Though it was hard to make out what was being said between the two of them, the anger she was expressing at the Admiral certainly was not.

And then came the scream.

Yamoto had heard all of the stories, the urban legends, and still that had not prepared him for what he was hearing now. Like other men he had heard of the saying, 'Hell hath no fury...', but it was only now that he understood. Somewhere in hell, there had to be a demon quaking in it's cloven hooves from the outrage the Colonial Captain was only now releasing.

Quickly stepping into the room, Sergeant Yamoto could tell that the battle was clearly a one sided affair. Admiral Simpson was only trying to protect himself from the Colonial Officer's assault. His raised arms were bloodied and bare, the shirt sleeves being shredded and dangling from the shoulders. Clearly the Admiral was on the defensive, just hoping to survive this encounter.

The Colonial Officer's transformation, Yamoto later swore, was straight out of the pages of mythology. It was as if 'Alecto', the Fury of Vengeance, had been sent by Hades himself to exact retribution on the poor Admiral. Gone was the pretty, confident Colonial Officer he'd escorted in earlier. In her place was a woman who's sole purpose was to get back at the one who she believed had wronged her. The wild-eyed grimace that was her face, haloed by unbridled hair, was blood spattered from the wounds inflicted by the talon like actions of her hands as she slashed again and again.

Several attempts to get through to the two proved to be futile. Shouting and pleading had no effect; simply no one was listening. Stepping between to separate the two combatants was to be sheer foolishness, as the blows the Captain were delivering would not have cared who they impacted on. Yamoto could only hope the Admiral would be lenient afterwards.

The click and whine of the Zat'nik'tel arming itself was but a small addition to the roiling din in the confined office space.

The tap of the shoes echoed the length of the conference room as Adar paced back and forth. He'd been doing this for well over the past hour or so, while, from time to time, his worried stare scrutinized the Tau'ri delegation's position at the other end of the table. As Elosha had commented earlier, these Tau'ri were something totally else.

Allowing each of the members to look into their own specialties, Adar had found this group of humans to be so unlike anything he had encountered before. Not really being religious, he still found himself falling back on earlier teachings when he came across something he didn't fully comprehend or didn't fit into his big view of things. With a couple of exceptions, those guidelines worked and were what made him what he was today; stable, successful, the type of leader the Colonies had needed during their recent time of crisis. But what he was learning about the Tau'ri was far outside anything he'd had to deal with before.

Adar paused for a moment, while looking at the Tau'ri as if for the first time, asked them, "Who ARE you people?!"

Dr. Jackson and Mr. Woolsey glanced at each other with a puzzled look. Woolsey responded with a slight shrug of his shoulders, "Humans. Just like you."

"Just like us? I don't think so. You are a young, newly emerging society that is only now feeling its way throughout the galaxy. Your own history points this out. Your pilots are only just becoming adjusted to dealing with space combat. Gods, this ship is so new I could still smell the paint on the walls!"

"I have to admit that the technology you've shown us so far is remarkable, in some areas bordering on the fantastic. In a couple of instances Dr. Baltar had to be bodily removed from some items before he did any irreparable damage trying to find out how they worked. But it still confirms in my mind, you are like small children unwilling to share your toys. You couldn't imagine how much good this technology could do for the rest of humankind. Just one of these ships could have changed the entire war!"

"Oh, I know, Mr. President," replied Woolsey. "I gather that Dr. Baltar has always reacted like that to something new?"

"Yes, yes," Adar responded impatiently. "But that is not the point here."

"Do you happen to recall what he said about what caught his attention?"

"All I could get out of him was that the principles you used to develop these things was so revolutionary as to be almost alien to what he understood. It was just his way of saying how impressed he was with how you could 'step out of the box' to make these grand toys."

"Oh, I get it now," interrupted Senator Adama. "You're looking for some praise for having done something really unique, is that it? A fulfillment of some need for approval?"

"No! That isn't it at all," exploded Daniel. "From the very first day we began to travel the stars, we've been battling to keep our planet safe. The road we have travelled has not always been the easiest nor the safest, and we've learned some hard lessons along the way. One of the biggest of those lessons was to never actively determine the course of a society's development. We've seen how slippery that slope can be, and how disastrous the results can become. Ultimately what we've felt we could pass onto others has boiled down to two simple questions: how much of it can they responsibly handle, and, if it was a gift to us, do we have the owner's permission to pass it along"

"Oh drop the philosophy lecture, Dr. Jackson!," snarled Carolanne Adama. "Now you're going to hide your brilliance, reluctance, or gods forbid, insecurities behind some trumped up aliens. The next thing you're going to say is that we could have been saved by little green men from the moons of Ragnar!"

Mr. Woolsey could see that this was headed for an early melt down if cooler heads didn't prevail.

"Admirals," he started, looking at Cain and Adama, "do I understand that there is a maximum operating distance each ship can work within?"

Giving Cain a grudging glance, Adama responded. "The usual distance a ship will jump is about five to 10 light years. The red line for most ships is limited to about 30 light years."

"And in all the time you've been in the Cyrannus system, how far out have you mapped?"

Adama frowned for a moment, glancing again to Cain as if for confirmation.

"No more that 100 to 150 light years in any given direction. Why?"

"And can I safely assume you haven't found any worlds with any appreciable amount of life on them?"

"None," he sputtered, shaking his head. "Well, there's been plant and small animal life, but what has any of this got to do..."

"To most of the space faring cultures, it's common knowledge that there is little if anything in the way of intelligent life in this section of space. Obviously you are the exception, but still it is no wonder that you believe that humanity is the only life form or that you were alone. We, on the other hand, have encountered at least 5 different non-human life forms in our travels. Many of these races have proven to be friendly while others have shown themselves to be an all too real threat to our very survival."

"We didn't come here to challenge your beliefs or change your way of life. We came here to ask for help to deal with one of these dangerous races. Unlike your Cylons, an alien species called the Wraith use humanity as cattle, livestock if you will. They suck the life force from your body and throw away the aged, dried out husk when they're done. They don't negotiate, they don't reason, they simply feed on you. The only reason we have survived any encounters so far has been because of good planning, good allies and plenty of good luck."

"But if things are working out just fine for you so far, why come to us?," the senator shot back. "If we are so isolated, as you say, why should we worry about this 'impending doom'?," she air-quoted.

"Only because luck has a nasty habit of running out when you least expect it," Daniel replied. "I know that from personal experience."

"One clear example was when we were into the second year of our travels when one of our scientific teams landed in a binary star system where a main sequence star shared a common orbital centre with a dwarf star. The objective was to take measurements and observations for the scientific community back home. It was supposed to be something nice and simple."

"Each team has a general purpose carry-all vehicle called a MALP, which is also outfitted for sound and video for communications purposes. The first indications that something was wrong was when we began getting signals coming back at a much slower speed than what we were used to. Instead of seeing the usual video feed of 24 frames a second, we started to get signals coming in at 11 frames or images over six minutes, and all of them were extremely red shifted."

Dr. Baltar's head snapped up, making a sharp gasp.

"After we had been able to clean up the images, the true problem became apparent. The Dwarf had suffered an implosion, turning it into a black hole. Those were the last images we had of them before they hit the event horizon. I lost a good friend that day."

Baltar bounced in his chair in excitement.

"Are you telling me, that you have images taken at or about the event horizon of a black hole?! This is astounding! This is completely unheard of! Do you realize what you were watching?"

"Dr. Baltar, we were watching good men and women die in front of us. There wasn't anything exciting about it."

"Oh. Yeah," came the subdued response. "When you put it that way, please forgive my enthusiasm." There was a moment of silence as Baltar collected his thoughts. Looking up pensively, he asked, "But if your team was that close to the black hole, how was it that your ship was able to pull you away safely?"

"I never said we were on a ship. One of the first alien devices we were able to make use of was called a Stargate. All the funky technical jargon aside, when you 'dial' the coordinates of a second Stargate, a wormhole would be formed between the two to allow you to travel great distances almost instantly from one 'gate' to the other. When I travelled with the original expedition, the first trip we made was approximately 300 to 400 light years in distance. Since then we've made trips, almost daily, exploring many distant corners of the galaxy."

It seemed as if the Senator Adama had had enough of this fairy tale. Alien life? A faint possibility at best. But magical 'gates' that could carry you through the stars was the tallest tale any one could have dreamed up. What next? The Lords were aliens in disguise? Carolanne was all set to finally put these upstarts in their place when she was interrupted.

"Dr. Jackson, do you have a description of these 'Stargates'?," inquired Gaius. "A picture, maybe? Did they happen to go by any other names?"

"Doctor?," inquired a concerned Adar. "Where are you going with this?"

"When I was in college, there was a teacher that was bent and determined to make all students conform to the lord's teachings. Because I was willing to question every hypothesis or assumption, he forced me to do an in depth reading of the sacred scrolls to understand the limitations they had placed on what we could do and not do."

"One of the documents I had to read must have been ancient. One section of text was so old I spent more of my time doing the translation before I actually got to read it. The point is that one of the lines talked about the lords travelling between the stars as if walking between rooms. If there is even a grain of truth to this, I want to know."

"Gaius Baltar," whispered Elosha, "I am aware of the text to which you speak. It is not what we consider an accepted text for common use. There is much in it that conflicts with the accepted teachings of the lords. Would you unravel a lifetime of faith for your curiosity?"

"Forgive me Priestess, but as a scientist, I would rather be damned for knowing the truth rather than spend a lifetime of ignorant bliss believing in a lie."

"Priestess Elosha," interrupted Daniel, "if I may. Many of the deities that we observe back home would employ a variety of mundane methods to have their will be done rather than have to constantly display their divine powers. Their followers continue to claim that it is the faith in their nature that makes the difference rather than constant proof they would need to display to keep their followers in line. Wouldn't it also follow that your lords would likely do the same?"

Turning back to the scientist, Daniel continued.

"Dr. Baltar, the Stargate is a 29 metric tonne ring approximately 4.6 metres in diameter that is constructed from a metallic grey mineral. Built in two pieces, the outer ring has nine chevrons placed equidistant around the perimeter while the inner ring has a series of 39 symbols representing 38 constellations and the place of origin. 'Dialling' six of these constellations followed by the origin emblem would set up a wormhole between the two 'gates'. Anyone passing through this wormhole could then travel great distances almost immediately."

"As for the name, there are only three that stand out to me. The more primitive peoples tend to favour the name Doorway to Heaven. The Goa'uld and their former soldiers, the Jaffa, commonly refer to it as the Chappa'ai. However the name I've heard used, by those whom I believe to be its original builders, is the Astrea Porta."

"So, it's true then. The stories about the lords." Baltar whispered.

"I can't say anything about your lords," replied Daniel, "but it should settle some doubts as to their existence."

The solemness of the moment was broken as a knock came from the conference room door.

With a concerned glance toward Mr. Woolsey, Daniel rose from his seat to check it out. There was a short, quickly murmured conversation while Daniel cast a worrisome look back at the Colonial Delegates. He returned to the table a couple of minutes later, clearing his throat.

"There seems to have been an incident," Daniel began.

"Nothing serious I hope," worried Adar.

"Well, both Tim and Sarah are presently unconscious in our infirmary. Captain Simpson had requested a chance to talk with Mr. Simpson, and had been escorted to his office. The Sergeant who had escorted the Captain reported that the conversation very quickly grew in intensity and volume. When he attempted to intrude, he found the two of them so involved that he had no option but to subdue both of them."

"Subdue?," growled Senator Adama, dangerously. "What did you do to my daughter?"

"The Sergeant used a form of non-lethal crowd control that simply knocked the both of them unconscious. They have been transferred to the infirmary simply as a precaution."

"If you would like to ...," Daniel began to say as Senator Adama rose from her seat. Her look speared him to his chair as if to say, 'Do you REALLY need to ask?'.

"Ask a silly question,...," he sighed, rising from his seat.